/u/BlackFaceCowboy, I don’t know if you will see this response. It has admittedly been several weeks since you asked the question, but at the time I did not have a preferred letter translation in hand that I believe helps answer your question. Hopefully you are still interested in an answer. I do apologize, but in my defense ILL can take some time—though I have admittedly gotten distracted.
The easiest answer is that the Franks prior to Clovis’ conversion were generally pagan, i.e. did not adhere to any of the Christian faith traditions. The ‘pagan’ religion of the Franks upon the formation of the Frankish kingdoms in Gaul seems to be a given in our early medieval sources, and so far I haven’t ready anything in the secondary literature to question it. However, the Franks had been active in the frontier zones and military structures of the Empire for quite some time and it is not unreasonable to assume that some Franks had already converted to some form of Christianity prior to Clovis as they acclimated to Roman and imperial culture. Even in the years prior to Clovis’ conversion, as we will see, there was a degree of religious diversity within the Merovingian court. As for the Merovingians, our documentary evidence prior to Clovis is scant, but I still believe there are a couple of things we can say about the religious activity of the family at around the time of conversion.
The Franks had been on the Empire’s radar for a couple of centuries, but the Merovingians only show up some time in the middle of the fifth century, appearing in Gaul as competitors over the growing political vacuum that had followed the withdrawal of imperial patronage decades prior. Ian Wood hypothesizes that the family might have originated in Thuringia, but this is far from certain. Our knowledge of the religious activity of the family in these early stages is minimal to non-existent. The first member we can point to with general certainty is Childeric.^1 Some have pointed to the burial of Childeric, the father of Clovis, as evidence of pagan activity, but inhumations with grave goods are not exclusive to ‘pagans’, and are rather a response to social instability than a reflection of long-standing religious traditions. The Childeric burial is likewise neither Roman or Barbarian, and reflects the cultural and social transitions of the fifth century. The discovery of horse burials associated with the site, however, might reflect non-Christian activity, but it's not an argument we should bet the farm on.
Despite the paucity of contemporary evidence and the ambiguity of material remains, our later sources all assume that the Merovingian family prior to Clovis was ‘pagan’, and I think there is reason to believe that this was generally the case. As is almost always the case, however, the picture is likely more nuanced than the narrative put forth by Gregory of Tours in which Clovis converts directly from his family’s ancestral religion.^2
Thankfully, we have a contemporary source for Clovis’ conversion! This source is (lo and behold) the letter that I wanted to track down before I posted this response. The letter, penned by Bishop Avitus of Vienne in the Burgundian kingdom, was written on the occasion of the Frankish king’s baptism, praising him for his wise decision and exhorting him to remember his Christian obligations as king. Avitus had been invited to the baptism, and though unable to attend, went ahead and sent his congratulations via letter. Avitus can be a bit difficult to read, even in English. The selected translations below are those of Danuta Shanzer and Ian Wood (2002). While dense, they provide for us a fascinating glimpse at the religious atmosphere of the Merovingian court on the eve of Clovis’ conversion. The letter opens:
The chasers after various schisms, by their opinions, different in nature, many in number, but all empty of the name ‘Christian’, the lies that have been uncovered by the keen intelligence of Your Subtlety. While we save such things (sc. the lies) for eternity, while we reserve for future examination the question of who is right on what, even in our present circumstances a ray of truth has shone through. Divine foresight has found a certain judge for our age. In making a choice for yourself, you judge on behalf of everyone. Your faith is our victory.
The schism referenced at the opening is in fact the ‘Arian’ heresy.^3 The implication that Clovis was entertaining or had considered the Arians flies in the face of Gregory’s account, but it makes sense. Arian Christianity was popular among various ‘barbarian’ factions and it is likely that Arians were present at court, given the Franks' diplomatic relationships with the Goths and Burgundians. Clovis’ sister Audofleda had married the Ostrogothic and Arian king Theoderic. It is not unreasonable to assume that she converted upon her arrival. We do, however, have a more concrete example. Lenteild, another of Clovis’ sisters, is named an Arian in the title of a now lost sermon, also written by Avitus of Vienne. Gregory, despite his best efforts to depict Clovis as free of any heretical pollutant, acknowledges that Lenteild was an Arian. That it appears Clovis was thoughtfully considering Arian Christianity implies that there were likely Franks at court, including members of his own family, who had previously converted.
However, as the letter continues, it becomes increasingly apparent that despite his flirtation with the Arians, the emphasis [for Avitus] is on Clovis’ willingness to break with the traditions of his ancestors:
Many in this very situation, seeing true belief, if they are moved to the suggestion, encouraged by priests or their friends, usually invoke the custom of their race and the rites of ancestral observance as stumbling blocks. Thus, to their own detriment, they prefer due reverence to salvation. While they maintain a token respect for their ancestors in continuing to be unbelievers, they demonstrate that they somehow do not know what to choose. Therefore let the dangerous [sense of] shame abandon this excuse after the miracle of your decision! You [alone] among your ancient clan, content with nobility alone, wished whatever could adorn all your lofty ancestry to start from you for the benefit of your race. You have ancestors who did good [deeds], but you wished to be the author of better [ones]. You are the equal of your great-grandfathers in that your reign in the temporal world; for your descendants you have established your rule in heaven.
A king who expresses hesitation at breaking with ancestral rituals and practice should not itself be seen as unusual.^4 And while we should always be careful not to take late ancient and early medieval ethnography at face value, I think we can safely accept Avitus’ reference to the ancestral traditions of Clovis’ family as decidedly non-Christian in a letter addressed specifically to Clovis and his court. When we consider the letter in tandem with the relatively recent arrival of the Merovingians on the late imperial political scene, I think a pagan tradition is more than likely. However, it would appear that as the family became drawn into the world of late ancient politics at the close of the fifth century and beginning of the sixth, conversions were already beginning to take place.
So there it is. Again, apologies for the lateness of the response. If by chance you see it and have any follow up questions, please feel free to ask! For the full translation of the letter and context, check out:
^1 Later accounts report that Childeric was the son of Merovech, after whom the family was named. Merovech was purportedly the son of Chlodio, who does appear in a mid-fifth century panegyric as having been defeated by the Emperor Majorian. Even early medieval writers express some doubt over the connection. Regardless, the Merovingians were relative newcomers in late ancient Gaul.
^2 Gregory definitely had a vested interest in the narrative—few bishops could boast a kingdom whose ancestral monarch had deftly avoided any association with the ‘Arian’ heresy.
^3 As a side note, the tactful tone employed by Avitus when describing Arian Christianity is fascinating—a tone that stands in stark contrast to the rage rants found in his correspondence with the Burgundian king, Sigismund. Shanzer (1997) suggests that the decision in favor of ‘Catholic’ Christianity might have been a close run thing, necessitating a magnanimous and placating approach on the part of Avitus.
^4 In a later source, the late eighth-century vita of St. Wulfram of Sens, the pagan-ruler Radbod is described as unwilling to convert if it meant separation from his presumably hell-bound ancestors in the afterlife. The source is of course a couple of centuries too late for our period and subject to the tropes of hagiograhical writing, but it still remains an interesting connection.