Festivities, Ceremonies, and Rituals in the Lands of the Bohemian Crown in the Late Middle Ages (East Central and Eastern Europe in the Middle Ages, 450-1450, 82) 9789004514003, 9789004514010, 9004514007

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Festivities, Ceremonies, and Rituals in the Lands of the Bohemian Crown in the Late Middle Ages

East Central and Eastern Europe in the Middle Ages, 450–1450 General Editors Florin Curta and Dušan Zupka

volume 82

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/ecee

Festivities, Ceremonies, and Rituals in the Lands of the Bohemian Crown in the Late Middle Ages Edited by

František Šmahel Martin Nodl Václav Žůrek

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Cover illustration: Illumination with a queen crowned by two bishops from the Old Czech translation of the Coronation Ordo of Charles IV. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Šmahel, František, editor, author. | Nodl, Martin, editor, author. | Žůrek, Václav, 1981– editor, author. Title: Festivities, ceremonies, and rituals in the lands of the Bohemian crown in the late Middle Ages / edited by František Šmahel, Martin Nodl, Václav Žůrek. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, [2022] | Series: East Central and Eastern Europe in the Middle Ages, 1872-8103 ; volume 82 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2022004803 (print) | LCCN 2022004804 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004514003 (hardback) | ISBN 9789004514010 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Bohemia (Czech Republic)—History—To 1526. | Bohemia (Czech Republic)—Kings and rulers. | Rites and ceremonies—Czech Republic—Bohemia—History—To 1500. | Nobility—Czech Republic—Bohemia—Social life and customs. | Bohemia (Czech Republic)—Court and courtiers. Classification: LCC DB2082.45 .F47 2022 (print) | LCC DB2082.45 (ebook) | DDC 943.7/02—dc23/eng/20220217 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022004803 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022004804

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Contents List of Figures vii Abbreviations ix Notes on Contributors x Introduction 1 František Šmahel, Martin Nodl, and Václav Žůrek 1 The Coronations of Bohemian Kings and Queens 9 Václav Žůrek 2 Royal Weddings and Divorces 53 Martin Nodl 3 The Last Moments, Funerals, and Graves of the Bohemian Kings 100 František Šmahel 4 Splendor Silesiae: Rituals, Ceremonies, and Festivities at the Silesian Courts 171 Martin Čapský 5 Rituals, Ceremonies, and Symbolic Communication in the Lives of the Bohemian Nobility in the Late Middle Ages 218 Robert Šimůnek 6 Episcopal and Legatine Rituals and Ceremonies 258 Antonín Kalous 7 Holidays and Celebrations in Medieval Towns in Bohemia and Moravia 310 Tomáš Borovský Bibliography 349 Index of Geographic Names 402 Index of Personal Names 404

Figures 1.1 The Crown of Saint Wenceslas with the royal orb and sceptre (Prague Castle collections) 14 1.2 Manuscript of the Coronation Ordo of Charles IV (Praha, Národní knihovna České Republiky, Ms. XIX B 5, fol. 157r) 19 1.3 Illumination with a queen crowned by two bishops from the Old Czech translation of the Coronation Ordo of Charles IV (Wien, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Ms. series nova 2618, fol. 70v) 31 2.1 The Marriage of John of Luxembourg and Elisabeth Přemyslid from Codex Balduineus (Koblenz, Landeshauptarchiv, Inventory I C, no. 1, fol. 5r) 57 2.2 The marriage of Henry I the Bearded and Saint Hedwig of Silesia from Codex Ostroviensis (Praha, Archiv Pražského hradu, Knihovna Metropolitní kapituly u sv. Víta,, Ms. A LVII/1) 68 2.3 Woodcut – Bigamy (Gratian’s Decretum, Venice 1514, fol. 399) 75 2.4 Woodcut – Secret Marriage (Gratian’s Decretum, Venice 1514, fol. 400) 95 3.1 The Funeral insignia of King Rudolf I of Habsburg made of a gold-plated silver metal. Made in Prague after 1307 (Prague Castle collections) 103 3.2 The Reconstruction of the funeral dalmatic of Emperor Charles IV based on a preserved fragment of the original fabric (Prague Castle collections) 124 3.3 Sigismund of Luxemburg, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Bohemia and Hungary from Eberhard’s Windecke Denkwürdigkeiten Kaiser Sigismunds (Wien, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Ms. 13975, fol. 439r) 159 4.1 The Equestrian seal of Přemek I, Duke of Opava from August 26, 1433 (Castle Hradec nad Moravicí collections) 174 4.2 A knight tournament from the Townhall in Wrocław (Photo Martin Čapský) 193 4.3 A man with a wine goblet located above Świdnica tavern in Wrocław (Photo Martin Čapský) 195 5.1 The forefather Vítek and his sons – the central scene of the house of Vítek legend, so-called Division of roses (Castle Český Krumlov collections) 225 5.2 Peter I of Rosenberg as a donor on so-called altarpiece of Vyšší Brod (Národní galerie Praha) 234 5.3 A boar hunting, Codex Manesse (Heidelberg, Universitätsbibliothek, Ms. Pal. germ. 848, fol. 228r) 250 6.1 A bishop lays his hands on priests’ heads (Praha, Národní knihovna České Republiky, Ms. XXIII C 120, fol. 52v) 265

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6.2 The coronation of the king with the participation of all the bishops of the kingdom, or at least the suffragans of the celebrating archbishop (Esztergom, Érseki Simor Könyvtár, sign. 2-36-4/7864, fol. 52v) 278 6.3 The procession with the monstrance carried by the bishop under a canopy. The procession is attended by musicians, residents of the city with candles and a royal couple watching from the stands (Budapest, National Széchényi Library, Ms. Lat. 424, Graduale, fol. 69v) 289 7.1 The Adoration of Baby Jesus in the Missal of Oldřich of Krumlov with the depiction of the donor (Brno, Archiv města Brna, Jacob’s Library, Ms. 7, Missale Ulrici de Krumlov, fol. 13v) 314 7.2 The fresco in the choir of the Minorite monastery church in Jihlava depicts a ceremonial procession, which every year commemorated the successful defence of the town against the night raid in 1402, until the beginning of the Reformation (Photo Tomáš Borovský) 327 7.3 The renaissance fresco on a house in Znojemská Street in Jihlava shows part of the ceremonial procession, which usually entered the city at this place (Photo Tomáš Borovský) 346

Abbreviations AUC – HUCP Acta Universitatis Carolinae – Historia Universitartis Carolinae Pragensis CDB Codex diplomaticus et epistolaris regni Bohemiae CDLS Codex diplomaticus Lusatiae superioris CDM Codex diplomaticus et epistolaris Moraviae ČČH Český časopis historický ČMM Časopis Matice moravské ČsČH Československý časopis historický FRA Fontes rerum Austriacarum FRB Fontes rerum Bohemicarum HZ Historische Zeitschrift MGH Monumenta Germaniae Historica Const Constitutiones et acta publica imperatorum et regum SRG NS Scriptores Rerum Germanicarum, Nova series SRG Scriptores rerum Germanicarum in usum scholarum separatim editi MPH Monumenta Poloniae Historica SRS Scriptores rerum Silesiacarum ZRG KA Zeitschrift für Rechtsgeschichte. Kanonistische abteilung

Notes on Contributors Tomáš Borovský is Assistant Professor at the Faculty of Arts, Masaryk University in Brno. He received his Ph.D. in 2003 at the same Faculty at Masaryk University in Brno. He has published several monographs and articles on medieval history including Kláštery, panovník a zakladatelé na středověké Moravě [Monasteries, ruler and founders in medieval Moravia] (Matice Moravská, 2005). Martin Čapský is Associate Professor in medieval history at the Faculty of Arts, University of Pardubice. He received his Ph.D. in 2006 from Masaryk University (Brno). He has published several monographs and articles on medieval history including Zrození země. Komunikující společenství pozdně středověkého Slezska [The Birth of a Country. Communicating Communities of the late medieval Silesia] (Argo, 2013) and Město pod vládou kazatelů [Town under the Rule of Preachers] (Argo, 2015). Antonín Kalous is Associate Professor at the Department of History, Faculty of Arts, Palacký University in Olomouc. He received his Ph.D. in 2005 from Palacký University in Olomouc. He has published several monographs and articles on medieval history including Late Medieval Papal Legation: Between the Councils and the Reformation (Viella, 2017). Martin Nodl received his Ph.D. in 2013 from Masaryk University (Brno). He is Associate professor in Centre for Medieval Studies at Charles University and the Academy of Sciences of Czech Republic. He has published monographs and articles on medieval history including Das Kuttenberger Dekret von 1409. Von der Eintracht zum Konflikt der Prager Universitätsnationen (Böhlau, 2017). Robert Šimůnek received his Ph.D. in 2003 from Charles University (Prague). He is senior researcher at the Institute of History of the Czech Academy of Sciences. His academic interests cover a wide range in the field of historical geography and history of medieval nobility. He has published several monographs and articles on medieval history including Obraz šlechtického panství v Čechách 1500– 1750 [The image of aristocratic estates in Bohemia 1500–1750] (Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 2018).

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František Šmahel received his Ph.D. in 1965 from Charles University (Prague). He is Professor in Centre for Medieval Studies at Charles University and the Academy of Sciences of Czech Republic. He has published monographs and articles on medieval history including Hussitische Revolution I–III (Hansche Buchhandlung, 2002) and Die Prager Universität im Mittelalter/ Charles University in the Middle Ages (Brill, 2007). Václav Žůrek received his Ph.D. in 2014 from Charles University (Prague) and EHESS (Paris). He is research fellow in Centre for Medieval Studies at Charles University and the Academy of Sciences of Czech Republic. He has published monographs and articles on medieval history including Přenos vědění Osud čtyř bestsellerů v pozdně středověkých českých zemích [Transmission of Knowledge. The Fortune of Four Bestsellers in Late Medieval Czech Lands] (Filosofia, 2021).

Introduction František Šmahel, Martin Nodl and Václav Žůrek Today, everyone happily returns to the distant centuries before 1500, but not to the dark Middle Ages that have been somewhat purposefully condemned by the historians of the Renaissance and Reformation periods. The light and dark of the last millennium has changed since that time in various extents, sometimes even in harmony with a political order or with modern trends. Films and large exhibitions have informed a new awareness about the Middle Ages. The former relies either on chivalric stories or on the mystery of ciphers and treasures. Expensive exhibitions show tens or hundreds of thousands of visitors artfully illuminated gems of medieval art, the almost sacred exclusivity of which is increased by their religious purpose. The catalogues therefore enjoy great popularity, where it is sufficient to read the descriptions to the splendid reproductions for the reader to acquire cursory information. Rituals and ceremonies played a significant role in medieval society by establishing continuity with previous generations and their legacy, while allowing individuals to step out of their everyday routine for a time, both at the level of the local community, village, convent, castle, or city, and at the kingdom- and empire-wide level. Medieval rituals were sensitive to maintaining traditions because it was the formal stability and continuity with the past that gave them legitimacy and confirmed the symbolic dimension of these acts. Rituals became a very important theme for medieval historians back in the 1980s and 1990s under the influence of seminal works by a number of anthropologists and philosophers.1 Inspired by these authors, historians began spending more time researching rituals as important elements of society. Marc Bloch published his breakthrough work on the royal touch long before the field became so popular.2 Medieval studies then concentrated on royal power and the rituals associated with it for many years. The coronation itself was a model ritual with relevant social importance and had the distinction of a 1 Roy A. Rappaport, Ritual and Religion in the Making of Humanity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999); John L. Austin, How to Do Things with Words (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1975); Catherine Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992); Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays (New York: Basic Books, 1973); Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (Chicago: Routledge, 1969). 2 Marc Bloch, Les rois thaumaturges. Étude sur le caractère surnaturel attribué à la puissance royale particulièrement en France et en Angleterre (Paris: Istra, 1924).

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004514010_002

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large collection of surviving sources. That is probably why coronation rituals became the most researched ritual topic in various countries during the second half of the 20th century. The end of the century witnessed revived interest in researching political events that take place within established processes, especially in the context of broadly defined symbolic communication. Research into medieval rituals thus focused specifically on symbolic communication. The work of Gerd Althoff, using material from the early and high Middle Ages, led the research, especially in Germany, to begin to focus on this dimension of medieval politics.3 Rituals and ceremonies were also the focus of the work performed by Anglo-American4 and French5 scholars as well. Medieval studies also took inspiration from other cultural areas, which enriched it not only at the comparative level, but also in terms of methodology.6 There is thus controversy and criticism in the research performed by historians on medieval rituals and ceremonies. The contributions to the proposed book are enlightened by the study of works that are critical of the mechanical use of anthropological methods and seeing rituals everywhere in medieval life.7 The boom in research into rituals in medieval historiography has ebbed, but many areas and periods remain uncharted and many sources have yet to be fully examined. The late medieval period of the 14th and 15th centuries in Central Europe offers a series of uncovered topics. Although many of them have been studied in recent years,8 our proposed book seeks to fill the blank 3 Gerd Althoff, Die Macht der Rituale. Symbolik und Herrschaft im Mittelalter (Darmstadt: Primus, 2003). 4 See especially Geoffrey Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor: Ritual and Political Order in Early Medieval France (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1992). 5 See especially Jacques Le Goff, “Le rituel symbolique de la vassalité,” in Pour un autre Moyen Âge. Temps, travail et culture en Occident: 18 essais (Paris: Gallimard, 1977), pp. 349–420; Jean-Claude Schmitt, La Raison des gestes dans l’Occident médiéval (Paris: Gallimard, 1990). 6 See Axel Michaels, Homo Ritualis: Hindu Ritual and Its Significance for Ritual Theory (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). 7 Peter Dinzelbacher, Warum weint der König. Eine Kritik des mediävistischen Panritualismus (Badenweiler: Wiss. Verl. Bachmann, 2009); Philippe Buc, The Dangers of Ritual: Between Early Medieval Texts and Social Scientific Theory (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001); Frank Rexroth, “Rituale und Ritualismus in der historischen Mittelalterforschung. Eine Skizze,” in Mediävistik im 21. Jahrhundert. Stand und Perspektiven der internationalen und interdisziplinären Mittelalterforschung, eds. Hans-Werner Goetz and Jörg Jarnut (Munich Fink, 2003), pp. 391–406. 8 Cf. Stát, státnost a rituály přemyslovského věku: problémy, názory, otázky, eds. Demeter Malaťák and Martin Wihoda (Brno: Matice moravská, 2006); Rituály, ceremonie a festivity ve střední Evropě 14. a 15. století, eds. Martin Nodl and František Šmahel (Prague: Filosofia, 2009); Tomáš Borovský and Robert Antonín, Panovnické vjezdy na středověké Moravě (Brno: Matice moravská, 2009); Manželství v pozdním středověku: rituály a obyčeje, eds. Paweł Kras and Martin Nodl (Prague: Filosofia, 2014).

Introduction

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space in the research into late medieval ritual functions in the Czech lands. The topic fits nicely into the interest on this theme in the broader region of Central Europe.9 In contrast to the previous analysis of Bohemian sources, the proposed book is not simply a collection of case studies. It contains chapters that offer a systematic narrative of clearly defined events in a set period of time (coronations, funerals, weddings). Other chapters dissect the importance of ritual behavior in a certain environment or institution (the gentry, cities, at ducal court, the activities of papal legate). The focus on a rather narrow chronological grouping of sources placed into their social context allows for a detailed analysis and deeper dive into the material. That is why the result of these analyses in the form of the chapters of this book are more convincing than less thorough overviews, and they put forth a better understanding of medieval society in its everyday and holiday routines. The book offers convincing results that can be a useful source for historians studying Central European history, but also for medieval historians from other parts of Europe. The authors are familiar with the discourse about rituals in international medieval studies in the 1990s, which is why the resulting texts are innovative analyses of the importance of rituals for the functioning of late medieval societies. Ritualized conduct as a component of public symbolic communication had more functions and forms in the Middle Ages, just like it does today. The studies in this anthology prove this as well. With the exception of villagers, the studies contain a broad stratification of medieval society from the royal family through burghers. In accord with the latest research, the authors gave precedence to an open understanding of the terms of ritual, ceremony, and rite, because in a number of cases they cannot be distinguished in the local sources. They also take Moravia and Silesia more into account in order to indicate the need for further comparative studies with the entire lands of the Crown of Bohemia. Emphasis on the comparison with the Western European milieu often leads to the conclusion that predominantly thanks to the surroundings of Emperor Charles IV, a development of a diverse range of new court celebrations and ceremonials occurred in the Czech lands, which in the earlier period found only a weak response. Precisely for this reason, we devote the most scope to it 9 Zbigniew Dalewski, Ritual and Politics: Writing the History of a Dynastic Conflict in Medieval Poland (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2008); Dušan Zupka, Ritual and Symbolic Communication in Medieval Hungary under the Árpád Dynasty, 1000–1301 (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2016).

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in the individual chapters. Václav Žůrek in the chapter “The Coronation of the Bohemian Kings and Queens” focuses on an analysis of the coronation ritual in the Kingdom of Bohemia during the 14th and 15th centuries. In his opinion, the coronation ritual was rooted in the Kingdom of Bohemia during the 13th century, and became a welcome occasion for the representation of royal majesty. But it was only with the ascendancy of the Luxemburgs that it began to be perceived as a constitutive ritual for royal power, and therefore indispensable for their legitimate assertion. By writing down the coronation order under Charles IV, the legitimization character of the coronation was emphasised based, on the one hand, on the sacral essence of royal power. On the other hand, it was based on the public claim of the Přemyslid tradition within the rite by the parade to Vyšehrad and particularly the numerous objects and acts referring to St Wenceslas. Although the thus-prescribed rite was probably never conducted in its ideal form, it influenced all the coronations in the subsequent centuries. The coronation rites conducted during the 15th and at the beginning of the 16th centuries were influenced in their course primarily by the dynamic development of the political position of the nobility, which in the post-Hussite period emphatically asserted their share in the administration of the kingdom. Hand in hand with the calling of the kings based on negotiation and election, the higher aristocracy also wanted this fact publically demonstrated within the ritualized accession. Despite the evident attempt on the part of the Bohemian secular lords to control the coronation ritual, it is not possible even in the post-Hussite period to suppose that it influenced in a substantial way the religious character of the ritual. That was not so emphasized in the testimony of the medieval chroniclers, but we cannot forget that the basic axis of the entire coronation was completely liturgical acts (anointment, conferral of insignia) accompanied by prayers. The entire prescribed ritual was the expression of spiritual connotations, with which royal power was inextricably linked in medieval society. Martin Nodl in the chapter “Royal Weddings and Divorces” examines the ecclesiastical ritual aspects of the conclusion (and dissolution) of marriage in the 13th–15th centuries. The conclusion of marriage in the Late Middle Ages in the aristocratic milieu was one of the most important expressions of the representation of sovereign power. The chroniclers of Bohemian origin, however, have left us only a scant amount of reports on the wedding celebration of the Bohemian kings and their offspring. Oftentimes, even these are only annalistic notes on which we can rest our considerations, but entirely unambiguously they testify to the fact that there was no established or even prescribed ritual normatively mediated by court orders in the Czech lands according to which the preparation of weddings should be governed. On the contrary, everything

Introduction

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depended on the specific situation, on the level of communication between the sovereign houses, on the imitation of earlier or foreign models, or on the adoption of fashion trends, which at that moment shaped the highly variable patterns of the courtly way of life. In the world of aristocrats in the Late Middle Ages, the conclusion of a marriage occurred in the form of the exchange of marriage vows in facie ecclesiae, in the presence of a priest, often also of the registrar, and chiefly through the blessing of the already concluded marriages, the benediction of rings, marriage bed or the woman after the wedding night, by a religious ritual. However, the Church’s effort did not have the aim to remove the secular element from marriage. For the Church, it was only to add to the mutual exchange of marriage vows the most sacred form, which was to strengthen the sacral character of marriage in the eyes of the laymen on the symbolic level. Despite these efforts, however, the conclusion of marriage in royal and ducal families continued to be almost exclusively secular affairs, in which the decisive role was played by the concepts and efforts of the rulers, which clearly suppressed free will in the selection of a partner. The wedding celebrations themselves were much more ceremonial than ritual. The central act of the royal weddings toward the public were not the religious sanctification of the marital consensus but the first marital intercourse (albeit only symbolic), the ritual feasts, dance and tournaments, in which the aura of the sovereign’s house could be reflected in the most grandiose form. František Šmahel in the chapter “Last Moments, Funerals and Graves of the Bohemian Kings” focuses his attention on the eleven royal funerals over the course of two hundred years. At the same time, only half of them took place on Bohemian soil, whereas the second in two Hungarian necropolises, Székesfehérvár and Oradea. From these facts, it arises that the funereal ceremony necessarily did not bear the traces of the traditions of two different court milieus, in which more or less the Polish customs penetrated, and, in the case of John of Luxemburg and Charles IV, also French aspects emerged. There was greater variability in the unwritten funeral orders, if it is possible to speak of them at all, as well as in their known individual points than it was possible to anticipate. In part, this was due to unfavourable external circumstances: the interests of close relatives, who thought of themselves more than the dearly departed. King or not, at the last moment all the crowned heads had to submit to the inexorable fate of all mortals. A specific milieu in terms of the ceremonies and celebrations was that of the Silesian duchy. Martin Čapský in his chapter “Splendor Silesiae: Rituals, Ceremonies and festivities at the Courts of the Silesian Dukes” follows the acts of the presentation of the ducal position and lord of the land role at the courts of the late medieval Silesian dukes on several power levels. The position of

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the Silesian duchy in the power system of Central Europe determined their tie to the sovereign or the transpersonal symbol of the “crown”. The essential attention is therefore devoted to the rituals of the liege oaths put in the hands of the king of Bohemia (and Poland), oaths of loyalty, participation in sovereign festivities and also the places where these acts occurred. The elements of these highly powerful rituals during the 14th and 15th centuries underwent an evolutional transformation that reflected the position of royal power and the political unification of the area of the Silesian duchy into the form of a “crown land” speaking in unison. The second power dynamic of the Silesian political areas determined the ties between the dukes themselves. The author follows their reflection in their share in the political activities of the Silesian dukes either in the form of congresses, courts of the dukes, associations or chivalric brotherhoods, which were accompanied by festivities in the form of feasts, tournaments or hunting entertainments. Finally, the author then investigates the presentation of the power of the lord of the land toward the noble and common subjects, mainly in the acts connected with the assumption of power and symbolic communication with the land community, the performance of his rule and also the death of the duke. Robert Šimůnek’s chapter “Rituals, Ceremonials and Symbolic Commu­ nication in the Life of the Bohemian Medieval Nobility” builds on an analysis of the rituals and ceremonies implemented in the milieu of the Silesian dukes. In it, the author starts from the category of symbolic communication, through which he attempts to show that ritual like ceremonial itself did not exist, because it was always about the relationship between all of the actors, participants in the events, whose conduct was complemented one by the other. He divided his analysis into three sections. The first of them reflects the role of the centre, in this given case the sovereign’s court and the central institutions of the type of the land diet or land court in terms of the formation and presentation of the social ties and simultaneously the milieu that served the nobility as an inspirational source intended for imitation. The transfer of these models onto the local level, hence into the milieu marked by the absence of the sovereign, on the one hand, and defined by social networks, on the other hand, is considered in the second section. Then, in the third part, the author indicates the overlaps and connections. In his opinion, symbolic communication is intrinsically linked in all of its expressive range with the role of stereotypical rituals/ceremonials in the life of an aristocrat, just like the visualization of the social hierarchies. Then, the same category includes also chivalric culture – a complex of models of behaviours and conduct, typically characterized by contradictory theory and practice: the bearer of social status was committed to the

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ideals of chivalry and their demonstration, and not necessarily realizing them in his own life. We are introduced into the milieu of the late medieval church by Antonín Kalous’s chapter “Episcopal and Legate Rituals and Ceremonies.” The bishop was the most significant person in the diocese and his position was given a dual authority – secular and religious. This also influences his activity and his ritual and ceremonial activities. Most of the rituals of the bishop were governed by the Pontifical, a liturgical book of the bishop himself. The most important rituals for the functioning of the religious administration of the diocese were those ensuring the consecration of new bishops, new priests and other clerics, churches and chapels, and further confirmation in the Church. Based on ritual, the bishop could also perform excommunication and accept reformed sinners back into the bosom of the Church. The greatest extension outside of the actual ecclesiastical milieu was the royal coronation, but also other ceremonies reached beyond the walls of the church. For instance, diverse processes were an inseparable part of the activity of the bishop in a town. This was the case because the bishops, besides authority within the diocese, also had important positions in the secular hierarchy of the kingdom, and therefore attended the more important celebrations of the sovereign’s court. The position of the bishop could be disrupted by the sovereign through his authority on the part of the secular power, and on the part of the Church, by the papal legate, who represented and directly embodied the pope. In this area, he then transmits a certain form of papal ceremonial far from Rome to the area where the papal legate performs his office. The papal legate then could replace the bishop in the role of the highest ecclesiastical hierarch of the area. We can therefore encounter the precisely planned ceremonial of the papal legates not only in relation to the bishop, whose rule over the diocese in question the legates took, but also in relation to the highest representatives of secular power. The bishops and legates, who occasionally appeared in individual dioceses influenced an important component of the life of medieval society and ecclesiastical rituals, which ensured the standing operation of the spiritual administration of the kingdom. An independent issue is the question of collective celebratory entertainments in Bohemian and Moravian towns during the 14th and 15th centuries, which Tomáš Borovský analysed in his chapter “Holidays and Celebrations in the Medieval Town.” In the first part, he summarises the main religious holidays and their course in Bohemian and Moravian towns. Besides the regular holidays of the ecclesiastical year, he also devotes attention to the festivities connected with the exhibition of reliquaries, with the activity of charismatic preachers (John of Capistrano) and the foundation of new ecclesiastical

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institutions in the town. In the second part, he focuses on the secular celebrations, like the appointment of a new town council, annual markets, and commemorations of significant events from the past of the town (for instance the successful defence of Jihlava against the aristocratic attackers in 1402) and public executions that were deliberately staged. In the most extensive passages of his text, he deals with the royal entry into the city, because adventus regis was one of the most important (irregular) urban holidays. The author devotes attention also to reversed holidays, which allowed the controlled ventilation of accumulated stress in urban society (Carnival, the Feast of Fools and Feast of the Innocents). In the conclusion, he considers the urban rebellions as a specific type of reversed celebration and analyses selected elements of the celebration, their time, the significance of the processions and feasts, which were the unifying elements of the celebrating community. The present book is a revised and updated translation of the book Slavnosti, ceremonie a rituály v pozdním středověku (eds. Martin Nodl and František Šmahel) published in Czech in Prague’s publishing house Argo in 2014.

Chapter 1

The Coronations of Bohemian Kings and Queens Václav Žůrek The coronation ceremony was undoubtedly the most significant event in a given reign. The need to demonstrate royal majesty both outwardly and inwardly toward the court played a fundamental role in the proceedings. The ceremony during which the future king was anointed, accepted the crown and other symbols of authority, and was installed on the throne was an important ritual for medieval society that contributed to the strengthening of the social order. The king, who acquired the title either through inheritance or election, was declared king during the coronation by the archbishop using the phrase “by God’s grace” (Dei gratia rex); a title that not only accentuated that he is the person selected to lead the people entrusted to him to salvation, but also publicly confirmed the undeniable legitimacy of his rule.1 The exceptional importance of the ritual can be explained on various levels. The coronation was not just a significant event in the political history of the kingdom, nor was it a ceremony that simply expressed the fact that a new ruler took power. The event also said a great deal about the intellectual and cultural system of contemporary society. One of the fundamental functions of the coronation ritual was a reproduction of the social hierarchy. The traditional aspect of the ritual was very important: the coronation was supposed to be organized in the spirit of older rituals, as one of the elements that validated it was the upholding of tradition. If we define a ritual as formalised behaviour with a transcendental overlap (in meaning), then we can describe the royal coronation as an act where the ceremony taking place in front of the audience’s eyes is a representative symbol for the “revelation of the holy” (hierophany). The archbishop’s anointing of the king represents God’s choice, which is materialised and publicly staged during the ceremony.2 1 A summary work that provides an overview of medieval coronations is lacking but we can at least mention the still useful collections Coronations. Medieval and Early Modern Monarchic Ritual, ed. János M. Bak (Berkeley/Los Angeles/Oxford: University of California Press, 1990); Investitur- und Krönungsrituale. Herrschaftseinsetzungen im kulturellen Vergleich, eds. Marion Steinecke and Stephan Weinfurter (Cologne/Weimar: Böhlau, 2004). 2 A ritual is understood here as a formalised act with a transcendental overlap, cf. Axel Michaels, “‘Le rituel pour le ritual’ oder wie sinnlos sind Rituale,” in Rituale heute. Theorien – Kontroversen  – Entwürfe, eds. Corina Caduff and Joanna Pfaff-Czarnecka (Berlin: Reimer, 1999), pp. 23–47, here especially pp. 36–8. For more on the problematic use of the term ritual © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004514010_003

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In this chapter, we examine closely the coronations of medieval Bohemian kings and queens. First, we briefly describe the development of the ritual in Bohemia between the 13th and the 16th centuries with examples of individual coronations. The second analytical part describes the individual phases of the ritual and examines their meaning at the level of symbolic communication, as well as in comparison with other European kingdoms. 1

Přemyslid Coronations When all the people’s hearts were one with a single wish for the Lord’s blessing, for their king, for him to receive the most holy blessing, in the year of our Lord 1297, the twenty-sixth year for our King Wenceslas, on the holiest day of the Pentecost that was June 2 at the time, in the jubilee year, accompanied by the joy of all the people in Prague, in the cathedral church at the main alter of St. Vitus the martyr, by the honourable Sir Gerhard, Archbishop of Mainz, with the celebratory and obligatory humility and respected aid of Sir Burchard, Archbishop of Magdeburg, and many other bishops and famous prelates, the brightest prince Sir Wenceslas, the sixth Czech king, together with his wife, the radiant Lady Judith, daughter of Sir Rudolf, King of the Romans, after invoking and with the contribution of the grace of the Holy Spirit, after receiving the holy blessing and anointing, was properly decorated with the badges of royalty, the crown, and royal sceptre.3

These are the words chronicler Peter of Zittau used to describe the coronation of Wenceslas II, which took place after careful preparations, and its pomp was reflected on the pages of chronicles in the surrounding lands. Reports in the Chronicon Aulae regiae and those by the Styrian chronicler Ottokar show that King Wenceslas viewed his coronation as an opportunity to hold spectacular celebrations. According to reports by Peter of Zittau, Wenceslas’s decision to hold a coronation was accepted with enthusiasm as “his standing demanded” among medievalists, see Pavlína Rychterová, “Rituály, rity a ceremonie. Teorie rituálu a jejich reflexe v medievistickém bádání,” in Stát, státnost a rituály přemyslovského věku. Problémy, názory, otázky, eds. Martin Wihoda and Demeter Malaťák (Brno: Matice moravská, 2006), pp. 11–23; Frank Rexroth, “Rituale und Ritualismus in der historischen Mittelalterforschung. Eine Skizze,” in Mediävistik im 21. Jahrhundert. Stand und Perspektiven der internationalen und interdisziplinären Mittelalterforschung, eds. Hans-Werner Goetz and Jörg Jarnut (Munich: Fink, 2003), pp. 391–406. 3 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, ed. Josef Emler, frb IV (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1884), pp. 74–5.

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that Wenceslas confirm his position as king “in reality and in name.”4 Reading between the chronicler’s narrative lines, it is almost as if the Přemyslid would not be a full-fledged king without the anointing and the placing of the crown on his head. However, this did not correspond to the traditions of the Kingdom of Bohemia in the 13th century. It is not at all clear how the instalment ritual was understood at the Přemyslid court. The promotions of the first two Bohemian dukes to kings, Vratislaus II (1086) and Vladislaus II (1158), were rewards for alliances with the emperor and merely personal decorations. The rituals held were thus necessary for the ruler to attain the new status as the promotion only took place through the ritual itself.5 King Ottokar I of Bohemia, who attained the hereditary promotion of the duchy to a kingdom, had his son crowned during his own lifetime (1228) in order to ensure the freshly-acquired royal title. Wenceslas’s son Ottokar II and then Wenceslas II did not rush to undergo ritual instalment into office: the former waited eleven years and the latter fourteen years after taking power. While Ottokar II reflected his status in his title before he acquired the royal diadem (naming himself the “lord of the Kingdom of Bohemia” – dominus regni Bohemiae), Wenceslas II proudly called himself king from the moment he took over the reins of power.6 Wenceslas III also did not rush into a coronation and in the end never experienced one in Prague. He was crowned in Hungary at the very beginning of his short rule. This was a way for his Hungarian supporters to back the claim the king, crowned in Hungary as Ladislaus V, made to the crown of St. Stephen.7 The rulers during the following interregnum, Henry of Bohemia and Rudolf I of Bohemia, were never crowned, which to a certain extent reflects the understanding of the coronation ritual in contemporary Bohemia. The opportunity to hold the ceremony was of course influenced by the fact that the prescribed celebrant was the Archbishop of Mainz, who had to agree to travel to Prague and perform the ceremony. In general, it seems the coronation was not a constitutional act during the time of the last Přemyslids, 4 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 72: “re et nomine.” 5 The topic is covered in a series of newer works that generally discuss Přemyslid coronations and some individual ones are dealt with specifically: Josef Žemlička, Čechy v době knížecí (1034–1198) (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 1997), pp. 394–401; Demeter Malaťák, “Korunovace přemyslovských králů,” in Stát, státnost a rituály přemyslovského věku, pp. 47–66. 6 Ottokar II of Bohemia negotiated with the curia about his coronation shortly after he acceded to the throne, but that was later abandoned. Cf. Malaťák, “Korunovace přemyslovských králů,” p. 61. Wenceslas’s coronation was discussed already in 1287 and 1292. Contrary to the title, Wenceslas reflected his new status with a new seal where he was shown sitting in majesty with a crown on his head. Cf. Josef Žemlička, Do tří korun. Poslední rozmach Přemyslovců (1278–1301) (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 2017), pp. 275–308. 7 Karel Maráz, Václav III. (1289–1306). Poslední Přemyslovec na českém trůně (České Budějovice: Veduta, 2007).

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but a celebratory confirmation. The undoubtable claim the dynasty had to the lands they had ruled from time immemorial also played a role.8 The chronicler’s description of Wenceslas’s 1297 coronation, mentioned above, confirms this view, as it speaks chiefly of a grandiose celebration. Peter Zittau and Ottokar of Styria describe the number of guests, the precious stones that adorned the royal insignia and Wenceslas’s clothes, as well as the external appearance of the entire celebration in great detail. But they pay little attention to the ceremony itself.9 Chronicler Ottokar stresses the immense costs associated with the coronation and estimates their total. Peter of Zittau described the basic events while accentuating the festive character of the coronation as a celebration worthy of the idealised picture of King Wenceslas presented in his chronicle. The coronation ceremony had its continuation the following day when the king founded Zbraslav monastery where the text of the chronicle was later written. After a celebratory mass, King Wenceslas II knighted an unbelievable 240 men.10 2

Reforms to the Ceremony by the Luxembourgs

The ascension of the Luxembourgs to the Bohemian throne transformed the importance of the coronation. This was supported, on the one hand, by advisers to the king who came from a foreign cultural environment where ritualised instalment to the throne was a necessary constitutive act. On the other hand, this was accomplished by the need to support the rule of King John of Luxembourg with clear symbolic content as quickly as possible. Only two months after taking control of Prague, King John had himself crowned King of Bohemia by the Mainz Archbishop Peter of Aspelt. John’s wife, Elizabeth, was crowned queen as well. The ceremony took place on the first Sunday after the feast of Candlemas (February 7) in 1311. The best record of this ceremony also comes from the chronicler Peter of Zittau. In his work, the author stressed again the celebratory nature of the ceremony, the participation of important men, and the procession from the church of St. Vitus to the subsequent feast. A bit more about the traditional course of coronations is revealed in the chronicler’s statement: “All the kingdom’s officials were in attendance and properly performed 8 9 10

See also Malaťák, “Korunovace přemyslovských králů,” p. 66. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, pp. 72–7; Ottokars österreichische Reimchronik, ed. Josef Seemüller, mgh Deutsche Chroniken 5, 2 (Hannover: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1893), pp. 913–9. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, pp. 72–8.

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their offices. He held the sceptre, he the crown, he the orb, he this, he that, each according to his rank and standing.”11 It is thus clear that even under the Přemyslids, the order of the ceremony was dictated by tradition, because it appears that performing individual acts was associated with certain offices. The ceremony was not immediately reorganized during the preparations for John’s coronation, simply because there was not the time and the nobility, which was in a rather strong position, would not have allowed it.12 The chronicler describes how domestic lords demanded a quick ceremony, but it is also possible to expect a quick ceremony being in the interest of the men surrounding the young king as an effort to preserve their authority. Even the author of the Chronicon Aulae Regiae states with surprise that John was crowned very quickly: “Whose thoughts would not alight with enormous surprise when hearing in person that the king was so lavishly crowned in such a short time?”13 The chronicler reports that two young noblemen were knighted and given the right to hold the crown above the king’s head during the ceremony.14 This unusual spectacle for Central Europe was probably inspired by the French example where the crown was held above the king’s head by 12 peers of the realm who were the leading men of the kingdom (six ecclesiastical officials and six lay lords). The main reform of the coronation ceremony in the Kingdom of Bohemia is associated with John’s son, Charles IV (1346–1378). We do not know much about the ceremony where he – together with his first wife Blanche of Valois – accepted the crown of St. Wenceslas as the chronicler’s records are brief.15 Historians uniformly assume the coronation can be roughly re-imagined using Charles’s written coronation order, which we discuss in detail later. It is clear that the ritual took place with certain innovations that will henceforth change its character. The Prague Archbishop now had the opportunity to anoint and crown the king of Bohemia for the first time since the office was promoted and given special authorities. Ernest of Pardubice took up his role and placed a newly-made diadem, which was also used for the first time, on Charles’s head. This exceptional crown was to serve from that point onward only for the purposes of the coronation. Outside of the ceremony, the crown was to rest on the skull of St. Wenceslas where no one was allowed to touch it under penalty of 11 12 13 14 15

Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 176. Lenka Bobková, Jan Lucemburský. Otec slavného syna (Prague: Vyšehrad, 2018), pp. 83–5. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 178. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, pp. 176–7. These were the sons of Bohuslav of Bor and Fridman of Smojno; see also Josef Šusta, Král cizinec (České dějiny II/2) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1939), pp. 150–3. Chronicon Francisci Pragensis, ed. Jana Zachová, frb s. n. I (Prague: Historický ústav AV ČR, 1997), pp. 200–1; Cronica ecclesiae Pragensis Benessii Krabice de Weitmile, ed. Josef Emler, frb IV, p. 514.

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excommunication.16 The new crown added symbolic value to the ceremony because the new rites made clear St. Wenceslas’s key role as the eternal ruler of Bohemia who temporarily entrusts authority over his people to mortal representatives. This is another case of understanding Charles’s deeds as an intended continuation of the Přemyslid tradition of venerating the Bohemian patron saint. The Přemyslid saint prince was omnipresent in the coronation: the crown was consecrated to him as was the ceremonial sword, and holy oil used to anoint the king was brought by abbots from the Chapel of St. Wenceslas. After the ceremony, the royal couple left for a feast. Charles IV completed his ascension to his father’s throne the next day by founding the Monastery of Our Lady of the Snows in the Prague New Town. As part of his description of the coronation and subsequent feast, the chronicler Beneš Krabice of Weitmile recorded that the festive table that was placed on a raised platform on the market square in front of the Church of St. Gall was waited on by the lords of the Bohemian kingdom according to tradition and they “performed their offices for the new king on covered horses.”17 (figure 1.1)

Figure 1.1 The Crown of Saint Wenceslas with the royal orb and sceptre 16 17

For a concise summary about the crown, see Karel Otavský, Sankt-Wenzelskrone im Prager Domschatz und die Frage der Kunstauffassung am Hofe Kaiser Karls IV. (Bern/Frankfurt am Main/New York/Paris/Vienna: Lang, 1992). Cronica ecclesiae Pragensis, frb IV, p. 515.

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Charles IV was not crowned king merely once during his lifetime, but six times. The first was in Bonn in 1346 when he became King of the Romans. As he did not have the required insignia, he had to repeat the procedure in 1349 once he acquired them. This time the ceremony was in Aachen, which also fulfilled the requirement of the proper location. During his journey to Rome, Charles IV was crowned King of Lombardy in Milan and finally Emperor in St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome (1355). He underwent his last coronation in Arles in 1365 when he became the Burgundian King. In this respect, Charles IV could be considered a medieval record holder. Furthermore, he organized eight coronations for his wives and two more for his son Wenceslas and one his first wife.18 King and Emperor Charles IV strove to accent the sacred nature of his kingdom and imperial dignity. He also undertook spiritual tasks because (according to his own understanding of his office) he was no longer a lay man, but thanks to his anointment during the coronation he actually had a lesser spiritual consecration. The truth is that he was elected a canon at St. Peter’s in Rome as part of his imperial coronation in the spirit of tradition, which he also could have used to defend his reading of the seventh Christmas lesson. He approached the task in imperial majesty and with an unsheathed sword in his hand he read from a section of the Gospel of Luke (Lk 2, 1): “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree.” John of Jenštejn, in his funeral speech given over the body of Charles IV’s, noted that the king had been anointed with holy oil and thus was consecrated as an acolyte.19 Sigismund, his son and successor in his understanding of the imperial office acted similarly. Moreover, witnesses to his coronation in Aachen report that Charles himself read from the Gospel as part of the coronation mass and this may have also taken place during the imperial coronation in Rome.20

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Clearly explained by Peter Hilsch, “Die Krönungen Karls IV.,” in Kaiser Karl IV. Staatsmann und Mäzen, ed. Ferdinand Seibt (Munich: Prestel, 1978), pp. 108–11; on the imperial coronation in Rome see František Kavka, 5. 4. 1355. Korunovace Karla IV. císařem Svaté říše římské (Prague: Havran, 2002). The funeral eulogy was published in frb III, ed. Josef Emler (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1882), pp. 421–32, here p. 429a; for the most recent determination of John of Jenštejn as the author see František Šmahel, “Kdo pronesl smuteční řeč při pohřbu císaře Karla IV.?,” Studia mediaevalia Bohemica 2 (2010), pp. 215–20. Hermann Heimpel, “Königliche Evangelienlesung bei Königlicher Krönung,” in Aus Reich und Kirche. Studien zu Theologie, Politik und Recht im Mittelalter, ed. Hubert Mordek (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1983), pp. 447–59.

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The Coronation Order of Charles IV

The reign of Emperor and King Charles IV brought a series of innovations for organising ceremonies associated with royal power in the Czech crown lands as part of a new strategy of representation enacted by the Luxembourger dynasty, among other goals. Some of these were reforms to the coronation ceremony, which we can study because of the surviving rite recorded during Charles IV’s reign under the name Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum.21 The author of the text used a general prescription from the 10th century that was a common part of the Roman Pontifical as a foundation. It did not include any regionally-specific acts, but it had all the necessary instructions to perform a valid coronation ceremony that would be respected by the church. It is very probable this older order was also used by the Archbishop of Mainz when he was called to Prague to crown the Czech king. The compiler of Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum added further acts and speeches, especially those from French orders, while some of them are not found in other kingdoms and thus can be considered original. The French inspiration the young Charles acquired during his stay at the royal court in Paris was expressed on two levels: it acted as an example of how the coronation rite should be constructed, not just the liturgic orders, but also the inclusion of certain lay acts and other characteristic elements. The result is a unique rite that is specific to a certain place. Some of the passages were carried over verbatim from the French examples, and others were adopted to domestic conditions. The deeds adapted from the French regulations can be primarily understood as an effort to confirm the special position of the king in society as French ceremonies stressed the sacred nature of royal authority. We will discuss specific parts taken from the French examples and key acts later. Part of the text of Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum were prayers recited while dressing the king for ceremonial occasions where he had to appear in his majesty with all the symbols of power (such as during court proceedings).22

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Josef Cibulka, Český řád korunovační a jeho původ (Prague: Českoslovanské akciové tiskárny, 1934). Cf. Václav Žůrek, “Korunovační řád Karla IV. jako ritualizovaný panovnický program,” Časopis Národního muzea – řada historická 176 (2007), pp. 105–43. Cf. Václav Žůrek, “Entre inspiration et adaptation. L’ordre du sacre de Charles IV de Luxembourg et son lien avec la cérémonie française” in Sacres et couronnements dans l’occident chrétien : rite, État et société, eds. Jean-Fran Gicquel, Catherine Guyon and Bruno Maes (forthcoming).

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Let us take a moment to examine the text of the coronation order itself.23 It takes the form of a “scenario” as it includes both orders as to who does what and the text of speeches (prayers, blessings, oaths, forms of address) and hymns. These two levels of text were also usually differentiated in the manuscripts by colour. The writing of the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum took place sometime between the 1340s and the 1370s. The only thing that is sure is that it was created before 1374, which is when the oldest surviving manuscript was created.24 It is the only manuscript of order documented to have been created during the emperor’s life and it can be seen as a bequest to the young king Wenceslas IV. It not only includes the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum, but also the ‘Chronicle of the Czechs’ written by Přibík Pulkava of Radenín. Both texts correspond with one another and in a way form an ideological unit.25 The Cracow manuscript’s first folio is decorated with the letter C, which shows a young king with a small dog. The representative character of the codex is supplemented on the first page by a colourful Czech symbol with a lion. A Latin version of the text survived in two other manuscripts, always with literary and legal texts that were created at Charles’s court. Sometime during the 14th century, the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum was translated into Czech, probably so its content would be accessible to nobles and other parties that did not understand Latin. Interest into the foundations and the course of the coronation ceremony on the part of the leading men of the kingdom could be expected since some of them actively took part in certain prescribed acts and their role was strengthened during the 15th century. The seven Old Czech copies of the coronation rite, mostly created in the 15th century, show that it was a text that was primarily read at that time. This would be natural as Charles IV’s Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum became the accepted order for organising ceremonies and it is the only original text written for the Czech kingdom. It also served as a general example long into modern times.26 23 24

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The text is comprised of a part that sets the order of the king’s ritual, then the queen’s ritual, and the final part are prayers meant to be said while dressing the king. It was published by Cibulka in his book Český řád korunovační, pp. 76–98. ms Cracow, Muzeum narodowe, Biblioteka książąt Czartoryskich, 1414. The manuscript has been in Cracow since the 15th century. It is dated to the given year on the basis of marginal notes from the history of Brandenburg next to the text of the chronicle of Přibík Pulkava in the same manuscript by Josef Krása, Rukopisy Václava IV. (Prague: Odeon, 1974), pp. 110–1. Žůrek, “Korunovační řád Karla IV.,” pp. 136–8. Václav Žůrek, “Předpis, literární dílo nebo pamětní záznam? Rukopisy Karlova korunovačního řádu v kontextu dochování,” in Moc a její symbolika ve středověku, eds. Martin Nodl and Andrej Pleszczyński (Prague: Filosofia, 2011), pp. 103–14.

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Charles IV is oftentimes considered the author of the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum, or it is thought that he at least oversaw the author and thus took part in the creation of the texts. This idea, no matter how unlikely because of the text’s liturgical and not literary nature, has existed since the Middle Ages and was also the case with several other works from the courtly environment. A similar opinion was expressed by a medieval Czech translator, who introduced a speech with the words: “Here begins another different prayer from our wise king.”27 It is not important who compiled the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum, but that this order for organising ritualised ascension to the throne fits well into the intentions that led to the creation of other works at the court of Charles IV with the significant commonality of explicit adherence to the Přemyslid ruling tradition and the associated accent placed on the importance of the patron, St. Wenceslas. The Přemyslid residue in the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum is evident in the ceremonies the Přemyslid kings took part in, which is why they should be seen as an intentional ritualization of the Přemyslid memory that was part of Charles IV’s ruling strategy. (figure 1.2) As part of his rule, Emperor Charles IV paid significant attention to the coronation ceremony: he had the crown of St. Wenceslas made; the coronation order written; and he included a clause that the king must be crowned within six months of taking power into the proposed Maiestas Carolina law codex. However, Charles did not follow his own regulations in the case of his first-born son and successor. Little Wenceslas IV was crowned during his father’s lifetime at the age of two. Coronations of children were not exceptional in Central Europe, but they usually happened only in situations where the crowned was the oldest remaining pretender to the throne.28 The question of the motivation behind the coronation of a two-year old child probably cannot be satisfyingly answered. It is possible Wenceslas IV’s coronation on June 15, 1363 was associated with the ceremony held for Charles’s fourth wife Elizabeth of Pomerania three days later.29 The coronation of the child did not take place at the usual time, meaning on a Sunday as part of a ceremonial mass. Little Wenceslas was thus anointed on the feast of St. Vitus, which in 1363 fell on a Thursday. This date had its own justification because Vitus was 27 28 29

Korunovační řád Karla IV., ed. Martina Jamborová (Prague: Scriptorium, 2019), s. 101. For Hungarian comparisons see Erik Fügedi, “Coronation in Medieval Hungary,” in Idem, Kings, Bishops, Nobles, and Burghers in Medieval Hungary, ed. János M. Bak (London: Variorum Reprints, 1986), pp. 159–89. The coronation of Queen Elisabeth was planned for the closest possible date after the return from Poland where their wedding took place on May 25 in Cracow. Wenceslas was crowned on June 15, and Elisabeth on June 18 in Prague. Cf. František Kavka, Vláda Karla IV. za jeho císařství (1355–1378), vol. 1: 1355–1364 (Prague: Univerzita Karlova, 1993), p. 200.

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Figure 1.2 Manuscript of the Coronation Ordo of Charles IV

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one of the patrons of the kingdom, and the metropolitan cathedral, which was the site of the ceremony, was dedicated to him (among other saints).30 The ceremony itself seemed like a public and ritualised form of designation, but it did not require confirmation with another ritual after Wenceslas’s ascension. The ceremonial anointing and crowning of the two-year old successor was acknowledged as valid in the spirit of the contemporary understanding of the king’s two bodies. There is no need to stress that basically only the fundamental acts could be carried out with a two-year old child. The farcical nature of the entire ceremony is also reflected in the letter alleged to be from Wenceslas to his father; a pamphlet written at the imperial court that is sometimes attributed to Chancellor Jan of Středa (John of Neumarkt), and elsewhere to Archbishop Ernest of Pardubice.31 Later reports claim the archbishop opposed this “empty game” but in the end carried out his task.32 As František Kavka believes, it is likely that the coronation was a victory for the political need to separate the title of king and emperor,33 or that this was Charles’s attempt to assure symbolically Wenceslas’s succession before the coronation of Elisabeth of Pomerania. Her son Sigismund inherited the Czech lands after the death of his stepbrother and was crowned Czech king in the summer of 1420 in a rather politically unfavourable situation.34 As he did not have control over all of Prague, the 30 31

32 33

34

Cronica ecclesiae Pragensis, frb IV, p. 528. Jiří Spěváček, Václav IV. (1361–1419). K předpokladům husitské revoluce (Prague: Svoboda, 1986), p. 46. Pavel Žídek recorded a less than flattering report of the coronation of little Wenceslas 100 years later in his Spravovna (Book of Government): “He was crowned at the Castle, and in the moment cried vehemently and defecated on the Alter of St. Maurice where he stood when he was crowned and cried until one baker gave him a kolach, which calmed him.” – Zdeněk V. Tobolka, M. Pavla Židka Spravovna (Prague: Česká akademie císaře Františka Josefa, 1908), p. 178. The genre of the text should be taken into account, which was a mirror for princes probably meant for George of Poděbrady, in which Žídek used Wenceslas IV as a deterrent example and as the pinnacle of vice. Regesta Imperii, vol. VIII. Die Regesten des Kaiserreichs unter Kaiser Karl IV. 1346–1378, ed. Alfons Huber (Innsbruck: Universitäts Buchdruckerei, 1877), no. 3958a. Kavka, Vláda Karla IV. za jeho císařství, p. 200, note 71. According to Kavka, Charles’s position became much easier than it was in the previous period when he had to appear as emperor and king at the same time. Little Wenceslas acquired more weight in marriage politics and could nominally take control of Brandenburg and in July he accepted fealty from the local magnates. See also František Kavka, Karel IV. Historie života velkého vladaře (Prague: Mladá fronta, 1998), p. 235. The surviving testimonies from Vavřinec of Březová and Eberhard Windecke are succinct: Laurentii de Brzezowa Historia hussitica, ed. Jaroslav Goll, frb V (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1893), p. 396; Eberhard Windeckes Denkwürdigkeiten zur Geschichte des Zeitalters Kaisers Sigmunds, ed. Wilhelm Altmann (Berlin: Gaertners Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1893), p. 111; Jörg K. Hoensch, Kaiser Sigismund. Herrscher an der Schwelle zur Neuzeit 1368–1437

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coronation’s plans could not include a procession to Vyšehrad or the holding of a public feast. Sigismund was mostly interested in the archbishop placing the crown of St. Wenceslas on his head. In other words, he wanted to legitimise his ascension to the throne through the coronation ceremony performed at the prescribed location by the prescribed prelate, the Prague Archbishop Conrad of Vechta, and to be decorated with the prescribed symbols of authority. His coronation ritual thus fulfilled the general demands for validity. An interesting testimony in this respect came from the tense atmosphere of the nascent armed resistance against Sigismund and the first crusades of 1420. This comes from the pamphlet Porok české koruny králi Uherskému, že neřádně korunu přijal a v královstvie České sě násilím tiskne (A Complaint from the Czech Crown to the Hungarian King that he improperly accepted the Crown and controls the Kingdom through violence). The Latin version that was most probably written for a foreign public is known under the title Corone regni Boemie satira in regem Hungarie Sigismundum, and begins with the words Nuper coram (Recently before).35 The text speaks in the voice of the Czech crown and addresses Sigismund, who it considers a vandal that unjustifiably calls himself Czech King. Outside of political and ideological arguments, the author also works with the idea of an incorrectly organised (and of course in this case unauthorised) coronation of Sigismund as Czech King. It points out the private nature of the coronation ceremony (it was closed and not open – non aperte sed operte) and that the king did not recite the oath, which was a significant part of the prescribed ceremony.36 Vavřinec of Březová’s chronicle also noted the improper course of the ritual to install Sigismund because of the absence of important lords and burghers. He thus called the ceremony as secret and even illicit.37 However, we have to understand these references

35

36 37

(Munich: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1996), p. 292–4; František Kavka, Poslední Lucemburk na českém trůně. Králem uprostřed revoluce (Prague: Mladá fronta, 1998), pp. 71–2. Both texts were last published in the book Husitské skladby Budyšínského rukopisu, ed. Jiří Daňhelka (Prague: Orbis, 1952): Latin text pp. 173–8, Czech on pp. 32–40; for the context surrounding the creation of both texts see John Martin Klassen, “Images of anti-majesty in Hussite Literature,” Bohemia 33 (1992), pp. 267–81 and most recently Petr Čornej, “Husitské skladby Budyšínského rukopisu: funkce-adresát-kulturní rámec,” Česká literatura 56 (2008), pp. 301–44. Husitské skladby, p. 173. Laurentii de Brzezowa Historia hussitica, frb V, p. 396; the Old Czech version literally says “About the secret coronation of King Sigismund at the Prague Castle and the naming of some new knights. We go on the 28th day of the month of July, the Sunday after the feast of St. James at the 12th hour, king Sigismund at Prague Castle without the presence of all noble lords and elders, Prague councillors was crowned king. […] The same year and the

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as part of contemporary political propaganda. When in 1436 Sigismund was accepted King of Bohemia by the Czech lords and the cities after sixteen long years, his coronation on July 28, 1420 was retroactively validated and carried out in the spirit of domestic traditions.38 4

Post-Revolutionary Ceremonies

Although Charles’s coronation order was mostly a written testimony about the ideological program of the Czech kingdom during the emperor’s time, and remained more or less unrealised during the reign of the Luxembourgs, it did become a model in the 15th century that organisers tried to follow.39 It was not always easy because the situation in the post-revolutionary Czech lands, i.e. after 1436, forced the improvised alteration of some regulations and traditions.40 That can be seen on the first of the Luxembourg’s successors to wear the crown of St. Wenceslas: Sigismund’s son-in-law Albert II (1438).41 The question of the leader of the coronation was conflictual, because the standing of elected Archbishop John Rokycana was problematic and the Roman Church considered the Prague cathedra vacant. It is difficult to imagine that the Catholic Roman King Albert would allow himself to be crowned by an archbishop installed by self-proclaimed electors, which is why Olomouc Bishop Pavel of Miličín was brought in.42 The fundamental changes observed in the performance of the ritual can be interpreted as the result of the growing influence of the nobility at the expense of the Church and the king. The strengthened position of the estates was

38 39

40 41 42

same days King Sigismund was crowned.” The composition Porok calls it a “clandestine coronation” – Husitské skladby, p. 39. Petr Čornej, “Skrytý význam politické podívané: Zikmundův příjezd do Prahy 23. srpna 1436,” in Idem, Světla a stíny husitství. (Události – osobnosti – texty – tradice). Výběr z úvah a studií (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 2011), pp. 186–97. Petr Čornej, “Pohaslý lesk panovnického majestátu v porevolučních Čechách,” in Lesk královského majestátu ve středověku. Pocta Prof. PhDr. Františku Kavkovi, CSc. k nedožitým 85. narozeninám, eds. Lenka Bobková and Mlada Holá (Prague/Litomyšl: Paseka, 2005), pp. 99–122; František Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály, ceremonie a festivity české stavovské monarchie 1471–1526,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity ve střední Evropě 14. a 15. století, pp. 147–70. Some were forgotten because they would no longer be understood and would not fulfil their original role. For a concise discussion about Albert’s coronation, see Rudolf Urbánek, Věk poděbradský, vol. 1 (České dějiny III/1) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1915), pp. 338–45. Cf. Frederick F. Heymann, “John Rokycana: Church Reformer between Hus and Luther,” Church History 28 (1959), pp. 240–80.

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expressed visually as the crown of St. Wenceslas was carried in procession to the cathedral by four lords: Oldřich of Rožmberk, Supreme Burgrave Menhart of Hradec, Supreme Judge Mikuláš Zajíc of Házmburk and Kost, and Hanuš of Kolovraty. The carefully selected foursome, two Catholics and two Utraquists, represented the equality of both confessions and the validity of the agreement called Compactata of Basel. This group also showed that the new phenomenon of a confessionally divided land and nobility had an influence on organising royal ceremonies such as the coronation.43 The central act of the entire ceremony continued to be the anointment, but over time the placing of the crown on the head of the future king took on more importance in the eyes of lay magnates. This function was usurped by the above-mentioned four lords in the case of King Albert. Together with the bishop, they placed the crown on the sovereign’s head and thus demonstrated who the king is beholden to for his throne and who he should lean on. The role of celebrant was also diminished in the case of the acclimation, where according to Charles’s coronation order he was to turn to the assembled “people” (populus) with the question: “Do you princes and administrators want to also subjugate yourselves and establish a firm faith in his rule and be obedient to his orders according to the words of the holy apostle, who orders: Be subject to the king as a superior just as the soul is subject to a higher spirit?” Those present were prescribed to reply by acclaiming: “Happily! Happily! Happily!”44 In the case of the coronation of Albert II, this role was played by the most important of the lay Lords present, Oldřich of Rožmberk. As the four lords held the crown above Albert’s head with Bishop Pavel of Miličín, he called to those present: “Czech lords! See the Czech crown! Is it your will for us to place it on the king’s head and crown him Czech king?”45 When those present agreed, the crown was placed on the king’s head and the St. Wenceslas Chorale was sung. Oldřich then ended the act with the words: “Czech lords, this king is the lord of the Czech crown!”46 And so it was. He was not king for long, however, as he died a year later. 43

44 45 46

Robert Novotný, “Proměna rituálu: Šlechta v období dvojvěří,” in: Rituály, ceremonie a festivity ve střední Evropě 14. a 15. století, pp. 237–46; Čornej, “Pohaslý lesk panovnického majestátu,”, pp. 100–104; Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály”, pp. 163–6. For the Compactata see František Šmahel, Die Basler Kompaktaten mit den Hussiten (1436). Untersuchung und Edition (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2019). Cibulka, Český řád korunovační, p. 79. Korunování Albrechta II., frb VII, ed. Josef Emler, p. 40: “Ir hern von Behemen. Hy ist dy crone! Ist ewer wille, das wir sie dem konige vffseczen vnd cronen en zu eynem Behmischen konige?” Ibidem: „Ir hern von Behmen! Ir sehet wol, dysir konig ist herre der Behmischen cronen.“

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Albert’s son and successor, Ladislaus Posthumous, performed the ritual making him Czech King at the age of thirteen. In the contemporary thinking he was nearly an adult, but he had been crowned Hungarian King as a 12-week old baby.47 We have little information about his coronation on October 28, 1453.48 The Prague ceremony was recorded by the German noblemen George of Ehingen, who in his commemorative travelogue mentioned that not only was he part of an embassy that took part in Ladislaus’s coronation in Prague, but primarily that he and others named and unnamed were knighted by the young king.49 In light of the lasting dominance of the nobility in political life, we can expect that the ceremony copied much from the coronation of Ladislaus’s father Albert in 1438, especially the lords not only carrying out their previously prescribed services, but also placing the crown on the sovereign’s head and pronouncing the acclamation address. According to the king’s own words, “the usual ceremonies were performed.”50 After spending the night at the castle, the king went in procession to the Old Town and King’s Court, throwing money to the people lining the way.51 The election of the nobleman George of Poděbrady to the Czech throne was a watershed event in the political history of the kingdom. The new conditions were demonstrated by a procession with the newly elected king from the Old Town Hall to the Church of Our Lady Before Týn on March 2, 1458, which included many elements reminiscent of royal dignity usually displayed in the sovereign’s ritual behaviour. King George was accompanied by the leading men of the realm led by Supreme Marshal Jindřich of Lipá, who walked with a sword in his hand in the spirit of the installation ritual. He was to play the same role two months later during the coronation. A ceremonial Te Deum was sung in the church, just like at the end of the election, followed by a speech from Archbishop John Rokycana with George seated next to the main altar. While this procession, which demonstrated the election of the new king and the beginning of his rule, was organised ad hoc and was rather innovative, George’s coronation copied the examples of previous ceremonies as significant changes

47 48 49 50 51

“Die Denkwürdigkeiten der Helene Kottanerin. Die ältesten deutschen Frauenmemoiren (1439–1440),” ed. Karl Mollay, Arrabona 7 (1965), pp. 237–96, here p. 272. Rudolf Urbánek, Věk poděbradský, vol. 2, (České dějiny III/2) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1918), pp. 741–9. Georg von Ehingen, Reisen nach der Ritterschaft, vol. I, ed. Gabriele Ehrmann (Göppingen, 1979), pp. 26–7. Urbánek, Věk poděbradský, vol. 2, p. 747. Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, ed. František Šimek (Prague: Historický spolek, 1937), p. 116.

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could have undercut the already delicate legitimacy of his rule.52 As in the case of Albert II, changes in the rite characteristic for post-Hussite political culture were expressed: there was the confessional fragmentation of the nobility on the one hand and the increased influence of both camps on the other as demonstrated by personal participation in certain coronation rituals, such as the placing of the crown of St. Wenceslas on George’s head. The remaining rituals were to be performed by two bishops (Augustin of Györ and Vincent of Vác), who Matthias Corvinus sent from Hungary because there was no appropriate and willing prelate available in the Czech crown lands. It is worth noting an observer’s remark that the ideal moment for the act itself was selected astrologically. This is the reason the bishops had to wait an hour and a half after the procession brought the king from his chambers to the church, he had taken the oath, and the prayers were said to continue the ceremony by placing the crown on his head.53 A concise record of George’s coronation survives on two folia of a contemporary manuscript.54 The scribe only wrote down the royal oath taken during the ceremony. A question as to whether the prince present was worthy to be promoted to king in the eyes of the Church was asked at the beginning. This was followed by promises and pledges by the crowned sovereign. These were prescribed by Charles IV’s coronation rite, in contrast to those George made into the hands of the same prelates a day earlier. The king had to answer whether he will worship according to the holy and Catholic faith, to protect the Church, and to administer the kingdom according to the justice of his predecessors. He answered “I want” (Volo) and then spoke the pledge prescribed in the order at the very end, after enthronement. In the oath, George promised to respect the law for God’s holy church and the entrusted people, and that he will show the appropriate respect to bishops, abbots, counts, and to protect property entrusted to the church. It is possible the wording of the oath spoken by the Utraquist king attracted the scribe’s attention and thus he committed it to his record as part of a collection of legal texts. It is noteworthy for the organisation of the coronation that the introduction, according to the short record of the ritual, was at least partially organised according to William Durand’s Pontifical written around 1295 and which had become widespread in Europe 52

53 54

According to the king’s own formulation, the coronation took place “more majorum regumque antecessorum nostrorum”  – Urkunden und Actenstücke zur österreichischen Geschichte im Zeitalter Kaiser Friedrichs III. und König Georgs von Böhmen (1440–1471), ed. Adolf Bachmann (Vienna: Carl Gerold’s Sohn, 1879), p. 246. Zdeněk Žalud, “Elekční horoskop pro korunovaci Jiřího z Poděbrad,” in Jiří z Poděbrad. Král český, ed. Václav Liška (Prague: Olympia, 2018), pp. 93–114. ms Prague, Knihovna Národního muzea (hereafter KNM), V E 13, fol. 127r–v.

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by the 14th century. It was used to organise coronations in Hungary (as well as in Poland). The Hungarian bishops probably brought their own pontifical like the one made for John Filipec. The wording of the surviving fragment corresponds to the royal coronation, which they used to celebrate at least part of the ritual.55 The aforementioned extant report also speaks about the organization of the liturgical part of the ritual according to the pontifical (and not according to Charles’s coronation order).56 In his work Traktát k panu Janovi z Rožmberka (Treatise to John of Rožmberk), Hilarius Litoměřický provided an important testimony about the coronation ritual in the context of relations between sacred and lay authority. The author has a rather critical view of King George of Poděbrady and he characterizes the king’s statement that “the pope has no power over us, we have nothing from him, you elected me, and not him” as “stupid and unchristian words.” The author also explains the king was elected by nobles, but he was crowned and anointed by ecclesiastic lords. It is thus obvious that there is a clear gesture of subordination in this act as “the one who anoints and blesses is bigger than the one who is anointed and blessed.” Hilarius also points out that through the hand of the bishop, the king is de facto anointed by the Holy Father. He explains that it is this act that is constitutional for royal authority. Even if George were elected one hundred times but neither the Pope nor the Archbishop approved of his anointment, then in Hilarius’s view he would not have a claim to the royal title. One of the significant Czech Catholic scholars based this view on the fundamental canon law that the one who confirms ranks higher than the one asking for the confirmation.57 The ascension of the Jagiellonian dynasty to the Czech throne in 1471 meant the return of Catholic sovereigns. However, from the humble reports we have of the ceremonies, it does not seem that this meant a significant change in the organisation of coronation ceremonies.58 Noteworthy is a report by a Polish chronicler that Vladislaus did not acquiesce to Charles’s coronation order during his instalment, and only took communion of one kind. The confession of the king did not express itself in any other way during the coronation ceremony. Despite the land being religiously divided and for a time even ruled 55 56 57 58

Fügedi, “Coronation in Medieval Hungary,” pp. 159–89; Zbygniew Dalewski, Władza, przestrzeń, ceremoniał. Miejsce i uroczystość inauguracji władcy w Polsce średniowiecznej do końca XIV w. (Warsaw: Instytut Historii PAN, 1996), pp. 133–89. ms Prague, KNM, V E 13, fol. 127v: “hec omnia super ea que in pontificali continentur sunt continuata.” Hilaria Litoměřického traktát k Janovi z Rozenberka, ed. Zdeněk V. Tobolka (Prague: Česká akademie císaře Františka Josefa, 1898), pp. 22–3. Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály,” pp. 151–62.

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by a Utraquist, all royal rituals were organised with cooperation from both camps, so instead of Utraquist influence on rituals associated with royal power, post-Hussite Bohemia shows an increase in the influence of nobles on the originally ecclesiastic ritual. Prague only experienced a truly reformed coronation with Frederick V of the Palatinate in 1619. Characteristics of post-revolutionary coronations in the Czech lands were first and foremost a public demonstration of the increasing power of the nobility, which symbolically put itself into the role of the power that gives the king his dignity, demonstrated by the usurpation of the claim to place the crown on the king’s head or to address those present in the acclamation.59 When Vladislaus II of Hungary ascended to the Czech throne, he did not control all of the Czech lands because Moravia and secondary territories paid homage to the Hungarian ruler Matthias Corvinus, who was elected Czech King by some of the nobility on May 3, 1469. His election in the Olomouc cathedral was slightly reminiscent of Poděbrady’s election a few years prior and was also concluded with an oath and the singing of Te Deum. Corvinus was never crowned because he was never able to take control of Prague or Karlštejn where the crown jewels were held.60 Vladislaus II’s coronation ceremony unusually took place during the week, on Thursday, August 22, 1471, and in contrast to the previous coronations, this time the nobility resigned the right to place the crown on the head of the young king.61 We know a bit more about the coronation of Vladislaus’s son, Louis II, which took place on order of his father on March 1, 1509 before Louis reached the age of three. The young boy was crowned much like little Wenceslas IV, with the help of his father. In the procession, Louis had to be carried by Frederick, Margrave of Brandenburg. Although the surviving reports tell us Louis was not able to complete fully all the prescribed rituals because of his age, all the necessities formally took place. The procession to the cathedral was an opportunity for many lords and knights to demonstrate their loyalty to the dynasty and the importance of their house to the kingdom: the crown was carried to the church by Supreme Burgrave Zdeněk Lev of Rožmitál together with his political rival Petr of Rožmberk; the sceptre was carried by High Steward Vojtěch of Pernštejn; and the imperial orb by Supreme Judge Petr Holický of Šternberk.62 The ceremonial atmosphere of the coronation in the cathedral 59 60 61 62

Čornej, “Pohaslý lesk,” pp. 112–4. Antonín Kalous, Matyáš Korvín (1443–1490). Uherský a český král (České Budějovice: Veduta, 2009), pp. 135–9. Čornej, “Pohaslý lesk,” pp. 113–4; Josef Macek, Jagellonský věk (1471–1526), vol. 1. Hospodářská základna a královská moc (Prague: Academia, 1992), p. 185. Cf. the table in the appendix of the article by Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály,” p. 166.

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was interrupted by the cries of Princess Anna, who also demanded a crown like the one her little brother received. King Vladislaus acted quickly, placing the crown of St. Wenceslas on her head, which along with the bowing of the Lords present calmed her.63 The community of Lords seemingly no longer desired the coronation of children, partially because installing a successor during the life of the king prevented the nobility from influencing the choice, but also for the lack of dignity in the coronation ceremony. When Ferdinand I wanted to install a similar demand, the land diet agreed under the condition: “the heir needs to have grown to an age where he has reason.”64 The last medieval sovereign crowned Czech King was Ferdinand I, whose coronation concludes our quick overview. We have detailed information about the ceremony Ferdinand underwent on February 24, 1527 thanks to surviving German and Latin reports (including a recording of the notes in the hymns). Basically, the entire ceremony took place in the spirit of Charles’s order without the procession to Vyšehrad and several other acts. The lords also no longer played such an important role to the benefit of the clerics. Despite that, some sources say Supreme Burgrave Zdeněk Lev of Rožmitál took upon himself the role of the person who addresses the public during the acclamation. He asked if they wanted Ferdinand as their king.65 According to the testimony of a copy of the coronation order for the Bishop of Trent Bernardo Clesio, who assisted during Ferdinand’s coronation, the question was asked in Czech. 5

Queens

From the beginning, the status of queen in the case of the ritualised ceremony sanctifying the sovereign’s wife (the sources often use the term benedictio) was 63 64 65

Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály,” p. 166; Macek, Jagellonský věk, vol. 1, p. 198. Antonín Rezek, “Jednání Čechův, Moravanův i Slezanův s Ferdinandem ve Vídni a korunovace královská v Praze (roku 1526 a 1527),” Časopis Musea Království českého 51 (1877), pp. 469–88, here p. 482. Cf. the text about the coronation of Ferdinand I.: “Tunc supremus burgravius interrogavit status regni, an optarent, ut coronaretur legitime per eos electus rex corona regni Bohemiae?” – “Coronatio Ferdinandi I in regem Bohemia”, in Sněmy české od léta 1526 až po naši dobu I. 1526–1545 (Prague: Královský český archiv zemský, 1877), no. 157, p. 223. In this case it’s more understandable from the point of view of courtly hierarchy as the supreme burgrave was generally respected as the most significant office. For Ferdinand’s coronation, cf. Rezek, “Jednání Čechův,” especially pp. 483–484; on the same in comparison with subsequent ceremonies, see also Benita Berning, ‘Nach altem löblichen Gebrauch’. Die böhmischen Königskrönungen der Frühen Neuzeit (1526–1743) (Cologne: Böhlau, 2008), pp. 96–120.

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influenced by her societal role. The oldest sanctifying passages say that contrary to her male counterpart – the king – the queen’s first mission is not to lead the people entrusted to her to salvation (which is suggested, but in the background), but to be the mother of the next king.66 This aspect appears in speeches accompanying the anointing of queens beginning in the 9th century. The royal couple was rarely crowned together after the ascension of the Luxembourgs to the Czech throne, such as in the cases of John and Elizabeth (1311) and Charles IV and Blanche (1347). In all other instance, the royal couple was anointed separately, partially because of age (during the coronation of child kings), or the fact that the queen was a new wife that required a special ceremony. As we can see from the record written by Peter of Zittau about the coronation of Queen Beatrice of Bourbon, the second wife of King John (1337), the independent ceremony for the queen should take place with the appropriate dignity. However, this case was different as we can see by the chronicler’s dissatisfied comments: “In the same year, on Sunday, May 18, Queen Beatrice was crowned at Prague Castle by John, bishop of the same church, with the crown of the Czech lands but not with the same great ceremonial pomp as we have seen at previous times during such coronations and King John stood and observed without his crown and without the royal shroud.”67 Sometimes the queen’s separate coronation was intentional, as was the case of Queen Joanna of Rožmitál, who was crowned in separate ceremony a day after her husband George of Poděbrady (1458). That was also the case of Anna of Jagiellon (1527) and Barbara of Cilli (1436), the latter crowned years after her husband. The motivation to hold separate ceremonies for the royal couple is not clear. Charles IV’s coronation order and other similar rites included a simplified ritual for the queens that de facto copied the king’s and followed directly after it. It only omitted some specific acts: the queen was not elected, there was no acclamation, nor did she swear an oath. The archbishop anointed her forehead, breast, shoulder blades, and then he presented her with the crown, sceptre, ring, and wand.68 The most detailed description of a queen’s coronation comes from 1400 when Wenceslas IV’s second wife Sophia of Bavaria was crowned. Everything took place exactly according to Charles’s order, which probably happened 66

67 68

There was no situation in the medieval Bohemia where a woman was crowned as the sole ruler of a kingdom as happened in Poland in 1384 when Queen Hedwig was crowned (“in regem Polonie coronate”). For details see Stephan Flemmig, “Die Herrscherweihe der Hedwig von Anjou nach dem Krakauer Ordo ad regem benedicendum als Quelle spätmittelalterlicher Herrschaftsauffassung”, Acta Poloniae Historica 95 (2007), pp. 5–40. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, pp. 334–5. Cibulka, Český řád korunovační, pp. 92–4.

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for the first and last time for a woman. The queen walked to the church in a procession of high-ranking officials, members of the royal family, church officials, and Prague councillors. The surviving testimony says she arrived with her hair let down and her tunic cut in the front and the back to allow for the above-mentioned anointing. According to a surviving description of the ritual from 1400, several Czech specifics from the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum were upheld. The characteristic part concerning the escort of the Abbess of the Convent of St. George at Prague Castle and noble men and women was fulfilled. Sophia was brought to the church with Kunhuta of Kolovraty, abbess of the Convent of St. George, on one side, and, on the other, she had Catherine of Sweden, her sister-in-law and widow of John, Duke of Görlitz. Another prescribed Czech peculiarity were the short sermons, even though the author of the record only mentions the Czech sermon by Jan of Mýto. During the rest of the religious ritual, the crown was held above the queen’s head by Jindřich of Rožmberk and Břeněk Švihovský of Riesenburk and Skála. The author explains this by saying the gold crown, richly decorated with precious stones and pearls, was very heavy. This service prescribed in Czech and French orders granted nobles the prestige of taking part in the coronation. At the end of the mass, Sophia took communion under both kinds as was demanded by the Czech coronation order, completely copying the French example.69 (figure 1.3) During the 15th century, two queens were crowned: Sigismund’s wife Barbara of Cilli and Joanna, the wife of George of Poděbrady, who had a special ceremony organised for her the day after her husband’s ceremony on a Sunday. As we can read in the record in the dean’s book of the Faculty of Arts at Prague University, Joanna was anointed and crowned by the same bishops in the presence of the new king. During the ride in the carriage, she wore the crown on her head with her hair let down as was the tradition.70 Another witness reports the queen’s ritual was celebrated by Jan of Rožmberk, who performed the rite for her husband the day before and carried the sceptre before her while Jindřich of Michalovice carried the imperial orb.71 Conflicts over which noble will carry which insignia in the procession to the cathedral did not only break 69

70 71

Codex diplomaticus et epistolaris Moraviae, vol. XIII, ed. Vincenz Brandl (Brno: nákladem vlastním, 1897), no. 19, pp. 27–8; Václav Žůrek, “Korunovace královny Žofie. Řád Karla IV. a jeho užití v praxi,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity ve střední Evropě 14. a 15. století, pp. 203–12. Monumenta historica Universitatis Carolo-Ferdinandeae Pragensis, vol. I/2, Liber decanorum facultatis philosophicae, (Prague: Universita Karlo-Ferdinandova, 1832), p. 59. Urkundliche Beiträge zur Geschichte Böhmens und seiner Nachbarländer im Zeitalter Georg’s von Podiebrad (1450–1971), ed. František Palacký (Vienna: Kaiserlich-Königliche Hof- und Staatsdr., 1860), pp. 151–2.

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Figure 1.3 Illumination with a queen crowned by two bishops from the Old Czech translation of the Coronation Ordo of Charles IV

out during ceremonies for the king, but they also occurred during the planning of Mary of Hungary’s coronation. Her husband Louis II first postponed the ritual because of these conflicts, but in the end, he carried the insignia himself with his wife in order to avoid any rows. Louis walked with the crown on his head, the sceptre in his right hand, and the imperial orb in his left. Mary also

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held a gold orb and two gold-covered loaves of bread, which were probably meant to serve as an offertory to the church, although a witness says she also brought them to the coronation feast. Only the sword was entrusted to a foreign guest, Margrave George of Brandenburg.72 6

The Course of the Ritual

The European tradition of the coronation ritual begins with King Pipin III the Short. In his effort to find support to justify his claim to the Frankish throne, he decided to base his power on a stronger foundation unknown to the Franks up to that point: for him, the proper source of legitimacy became the Christian Church. During the 9th century, the combination of the coronation and the royal anointment created a complex ritual that became the inspiration for coronation rituals throughout Europe, imitated to this day. Archbishop of Reims Hincmar wrote down the first rules or coronation rites in the 9th century. This was then used to organize subsequent coronations and significantly contributed to the establishment of a constant form for the ceremony and the church was still largely in charge of its organization. The coronation order as a type of text was originally created as a collection of liturgical speeches meant for the bishop celebrating the coronation. Only during the 13th century did it separate itself as a prescript used to organize a specific ceremony. Together with the separation from the pontifical, the texts were supplemented by orders for performing the ritual, which gave the originally universal order a local character. Individual manuscripts mostly fulfilled the role of regulations of how to organize a coronation and individual variations of the text were usually created when a change to the organization of the ritual was made. A manuscript with the text of the order could also have been written down as a record of a specific ceremony that had been performed in order to dispel any doubts about its validity or meaning. This first occurred in Capetian France in the beginning of the 13th century when royal advisers started supplementing the originally solely-liturgical ceremony with lay rituals.73 These were added to the coronation rite and became not only a traditional aspect, but a necessary 72 73

Kronika Bartoše Písaře, ed. Josef V. Šimák, frb VI (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1897), pp. 11–2. Richard A. Jackson, “Manuscripts, Texts, and Enigmas of Medieval French Coronations Ordines,” Viator 23 (1992), pp. 35–72.

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one that corresponded to general developments in Europe. The ceremony was adapted in individual kingdoms and purposefully changed according to momentary needs. The result was the originally universal ritual becoming locally specific, especially in light of the items used and the acts performed. This included their explanation in the framework of the ceremony through stories that tell the origin of individual symbols and insignia used to legitimise the ruling dynasty. The rising importance of speeches in vernacular languages, as well as the characteristic role of local saints, became part of this trend of regionalisation as well. These developments also resulted in the only original Czech coronation order being created during the reign of Charles IV. The influence of Charles IV’s rite in the subsequent centuries was considerable as we can see in extant examples of coronations.74 The Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum gradually became a norm that most organizers probably tried to uphold. That is at least how we can interpret many details from individ­ ual coronations.75 The sources, however, do not offer more information about the observance of the order and the surviving manuscripts do not mention a later understanding of Charles’s coronation order being used to organise a specific ritual. The exception is a 15th century scraped text about communion under both kinds that can be found in one of the manuscripts.76 During the confessional division of the kingdom, this passage, which was borrowed from the French model during the creation of Charles IV’s order, acquired new connotations. The directive that was originally meant to stress the sacred essence of the royal rite was automatically seen as being pro-Hussite in light of the sharp conflicts over communion under both kinds. At the time, it was unthinkable for the catholic king of Bohemia to take communion under both kinds, even during such an exceptional and ceremonial event as the coronation, without it being understood as approval for Utraquists practices. The ritual that caused no disturbance in France where it was still part of the coronation, for example, was understandably problematic in 15th century Bohemia. The sources only discuss a solution to this dilemma in the case of the coronation of Vladislaus II, who remained loyal to Catholic practice. 74 75 76

A detailed analysis of the individual acts prescribed by the coronation ordo was presented by Cibulka, Český řád korunovační, pp. 98–152; cf. Žůrek, Korunovační řád Karla IV., pp. 114–22. A useful summary of the course of coronations in 1348–1527 is in an appendix to the article by Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály,” pp. 163–5. This is the third surviving manuscript of Charles’s coronation ordo, which Cibulka did not use for his edition, cf. ms Prague, Národní knihovna České republiky, XIX B 5. Ordo ad coronandum regem Boemorum can be found on fol. 156v–163r.

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The key act of the entire instalment ceremony even in the early Middle Ages was the anointment with holy oils, which contained the immense symbolic potential for explaining the foundation and legitimacy of royal authority. Just like bishops, kings were from the beginning anointed chiefly on their heads, and gradually on their arms, shoulder blades, shoulders, and breast. It was primarily the anointing on the head that became a point of conflict during the period of competing papal and lay authority. Pope Innocence III even forbade the anointing of lay men on the head in 1204, but this ban was almost always ignored. Anointing was intended to demonstrate publicly that the king was selected “by the grace of God” and he was given the gift of the Holy Spirit to lead his people to salvation. The symbolic significance of anointing the head was mostly in line with the wide-spread understanding of Aristotle’s organic explanation of society as a body: the head was represented by the king, who was analogously anointed on the head. As late as the 15th century, English ambassadors to the Council of Basel argued they should have preference selecting seats over those from Castile by saying their king was anointed on the head and the Castilian sovereign was not.77 The act of anointing the king also played a key role in Charles IV’s coronation order. The author tried to imitate the procession that took place in Reims where the abbot of Saint Remi brought the Holy Ampulla to the church, which legend said were brought to Earth by a dove embodying the Holy Spirit.78 Just as St. Remi was the chief saint that increased the symbolic importance of the ritual, St. Wenceslas naturally filled that role as the chief patron of Bohemia. Two abbots wearing mitre brought the holy anointing oil from the chapel built over the saint’s tomb. The king was anointed on the head, breast, shoulders, should blades, and hands. When the archbishop anointed the king on the head in a movement in the shape of a cross, he was to say: “I anoint thee king with holy oil.” The oil used for the anointing was not a normal liquid. It must not have been desecrated through contact with a lay person, which is why it was wiped off with bread and, as we know from later practice, the king’s shirt with the spillage was burned after the ceremony. We also know how the king was to be dressed according to Charles’s coronation order. He entered the church in a tunic cut open in the front and back 77 78

Hermann Heimpel, “Sitzordnung und Rangstreit auf dem Basler Konzil. Skizze eines Themas,” in Studien zum 15. Jahrhundert, vol. I (Oldenbourg: De Gruyter, 1994), p. 6. The ceremony and explanatory comments first appear in an order written by Hincmar for the coronation of Charles the Bald in 869, cf. Francis Oppenheimer, The Legend of the Sainte Ampoule, London 1953; Patrick Demouy, Le Sacre du Roi (Reims: Nuée bleue, 2016).

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in order to allow for the anointing on the breast and back. As part of the ceremony, after being anointed by the archbishop, the king was dressed in tunicles and dalmatics; clothes that were meant for deacons and subdeacons. The author of the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum probably thus wanted to stress that the anointed king was no longer a lay person because he underwent ecclesiastic ordination. On top, the king wore a cape with a fastener and bracelets on his arms. The archbishop also anointed his hands and the king put on gloves. The queen was to be anointed on the head, chest, and shoulder blades. That is why Charles’s order stipulates that her shirt and clothes are also to be open or even cut open to the waist in the front and back. Adherence to the order can be seen in the above-mentioned coronation of Queen Sophia in 1400. A visual image of the anointing of the queen on her breast through her cut-open tunic can be seen in the illumination that accompanies the coronation rite of French King Charles V, which shows the queen with clothes on her breast cut open where she is being anointed by the archbishop while two women at each side hold a veil over her breasts.79 The entire coronation ritual offered a whole series of opportunities to demonstrate continuity with previous rulers. The most significant of these are the royal insignia, the transfer of which was a necessary part of a successfully performed ritual. The symbol of royal authority in the Middle Ages was the crown, and its placement on the sovereign’s head was another necessary act in installing a new king. This symbol of authority gave its name to the whole ritual in many languages. As a symbol of authority, the crown has a tradition that dates back to at least Biblical times (2 Kings 11,12). A significant role was also played by the New Testament understanding of the crown of thorns as a characteristic symbol of Jesus Christ. Various head coverings as a symbol of authority appear in many cultures, including ancient states of the pre-Christian period. The tradition of decorating the head of sovereigns with a crown came to the West from Byzantium thanks to the pope’s mediation during the rise of the Carolingians at the end of the 8th century. The act of placing the crown on the king’s head became a representative symbol for the entire ritual in the iconography of the coronation early on in the Middle Ages. In many territories, coronation diadems by themselves became a symbol of the lasting nature of royal authority. The crown also served as a representative symbol of royal authority in general. For example, the collection of hereditary lands in Central Europe under the rule of Luxembourgs was called the Lands of the Czech 79

See the illumination from the Ordo of Charles V in ms London, British Library, Cotton Tiberius B. VIII, fol. 68r, reproduced in Demouy, Le sacre, p. 223.

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crown. Specific diadems were also associated with famous rulers or dynastic saints whose charismatic power thus supported the legitimacy of the current regime. In the 1340s, a richly decorated crown consecrated to St. Wenceslas was fashioned for the coronation of Charles IV. It is not clear if it imitated an older example or not. However, this spectacular diadem became the coronation crown and the symbol of royal authority in the Czech kingdom, remaining as such to this day. The crown was altered during Charles’s reign, who after 1374 probably had it re-worked to embed newly-acquired precious stones.80 The symbolic importance of its decoration with precious stones also found its expression in the blessing spoken before the coronation act itself: “… bless and sanctify this crown. Just as it is decorated with various precious stones, let your servant, its carrier, by filled with the many gifts of the finest virtues.”81 A similar cult function for the crown reserved only for the coronation can be found in many countries: the crown of St. Stephen in Hungary, the crown of St. Edward in England, or the crown of Charlemagne in the Empire or in France. This is why in countries like England and France the archbishop would exchange the holy crown used only for this occasion at the end of the coronation ceremony for another that the king would wear as he left the church and would use as an everyday symbol of his authority. It was also true the royal couple had to respect hierarchy even during such a ceremonial event as the instalment ceremony. That is why when the king and queen came to communion at the end of the coronation mass, which was made more solemn in the Czech lands and elsewhere by the taking of both kinds of communion, both had to remove their crowns as a sign of humility as was also their obligation during the preceding reading of the Gospels. Besides the crown, the king received the sword, sceptre, golden orb, bracelets, spurs, wand, cape, ring, and other items according to local tradition. Much of this regalia was filled with meaning associated with famous and saintly rulers. The insignia were often surrounded by a story about their creation or the original owner that made the item unique and necessary in order to perform the new sovereign’s instalment ritual. The creation of a set of crown jewels as we know them from many countries is the result of a strengthening of the legitimising function of the coronation ceremony. Besides being anointed by a representative of God on Earth that demonstrated his selection to rule, the king’s position was also strengthened by the auspices of saints present through the items associated with them.

80 81

Otavský, Sankt-Wenzelskrone. Cibulka, Český řád korunovační, p. 90.

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Another significant symbol of rule the king accepted during the coronation was the sword, which represented his chivalric virtues and military might, as well as his obligation to defend his subjects. Similar to the crown, the sword was also usually associated with one of his famous predecessors on the throne. The sword of St. Wenceslas in Bohemia was not only a ceremonial weapon, but also a reliquary because there was a cross carved into the blade that held the relic of St. Wenceslas. This sword was long time considered an artefact from the high Middle Ages that was artificially associated with the Přemyslid prince, but the latest research has shown that it actually dates to the 10th century, the time of St. Wenceslas.82 The sword was carried to the church in the ceremonial procession, and in most countries it was cared for by a man of military rank (marshal, constable). According to Charles’s coronation order, the king was obligated to accept the sword when the archbishop presented it, but he was then to sacrifice it to the altar. One of the Lords present would ransom it and carry it unsheathed in front of the king for the rest of the ceremony. In Hungary and Poland, the king would swing the sword in each cardinal direction three times at a certain point in the ritual. Of course, the sword had another significant ceremonial function: In most countries, it was tradition to raise new knights, as witnessed in many descriptions of coronation ceremonies for Czech kings. Wenceslas II allegedly knighted 240 men a day after his coronation. According to the chronicler Vavřinec of Březová, Sigismund’s newly knighted men did not perform any chivalric acts for the greater good, and thus the people were said to have called them not true, but painted knights.83 Thanks to Sigismund’s letter to Mikuláš of Lobkovice, one of the “painted knights”, we know that during the knighting the king tapped the recipient of the honour three times on the left shoulder with the sword of St. Wenceslas (which has survived to this day). As part of the coronation, the king accepted a series of symbols of power that had their own individual meaning. The portrait of a sovereign in his majesty was not complete without the sceptre (the symbol of legal power) and the imperial orb (representing the world, or authority). The king also received the ring as part of the ceremony, which was a representation of the symbolic marriage he entered into with his subjects. He then accepted the bracelets from the archbishop. In some kingdoms, the ruler was decorated with spurs as a 82

83

Milena Bravermanová, “Pochází korunovační meč zv. svatováclavský z pokladu po Přemyslovcích a je jeho čepel dokonce památkou po sv. Václavu?,” in Od knížat ke králům. Sborník u příležitosti 60. narozenin Josefa Žemličky, eds. Eva Doležalová and Robert Šimůnek (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 2007), pp. 105–23. Laurentii de Brzezowa Historia hussitica, frb V, p. 396.

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symbol of a knight, or another sceptre in the form of a wand or rod (virga or also baculum), which also represented legal and ruling powers. The act of establishing the new sovereign on the throne was also incorporated into the coronation ceremony. In the kingdom of Bohemia, as elsewhere, this custom had its own tradition. A closer examination of the act as described in Charles’s order shows nothing that would resemble a Přemyslid tradition. Prelates led the anointed king with all the insignia to the raised throne, where the archbishop would address him using the prescribed formulation that originated in the 10th century and that left no one in doubt as to what was the chief source of the new king’s legitimacy: “Stand. The place that up to now belonged to you by right of succession of your ancestors and hereditary law, take it from this moment by the will of almighty God and because we, the apostles of God and other of God’s saints, presented it to you.”84 We have to realize that most prescribed speeches were formulated several centuries in the past and in a different historical context, especially from the point of view of the development of lay and ecclesiastic power. Charles’s coronation ritual included several specific passages and directives that we do not find in other contemporary kingdoms. One of these opens the text. On the eve of the Sunday when the ceremony was to take place, the archbishop and other prelates would take the prince to pray at Vyšehrad. The inclusion of the procession was inspired by Charles’s interest in stressing the continuity of his rule with the Přemyslids, and Vyšehrad presented a place of memory associated with the oldest Czech princes. The chronicler Přibík Pulkava of Radenín, who wrote the Chronicle of the Czech for Emperor Charles IV, explains the prelude to the coronation when describing the beginnings of Czech history: he places a speech into the mouth of Přemysl the Ploughman about the bast shoes and pouch he took with him, and that these items should forever remind his successors of the ruling dynasty’s humble beginnings. Pulkava adds that at his time the items were still stored at Vyšehrad and that when the soon-to-be king arrives on the eve of the coronation, he was shown the shoes and the pouch was placed over his shoulder.85 The preservation of the shoes as a sacral item of the Přemyslid dynasty is first mentioned by the chronicler Cosmas of Prague, and then the so-called Dalimil adds the pouch in accordance with the fable of Přemysl the Ploughman and his wife Libuše.86 The Italian Franciscan friar Thomas Tuscus, who visited 84 85 86

Cibulka, Český řád korunovační, p. 91. Przibiconis de Radenin dicti Pulkavae Chronicon Bohemiae, ed. Josef Emler, frb V (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1893), p. 7. Cosmae Pragensis Chronica Boemorum, ed. Bertold Bretholz, mgh SRG NS II (Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1923), p. 17; Staročeská kronika tak řečeného Dalimila, vol.

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Prague for some time in 1260s–1270s, also mentions the shoes and their use during the coronation.87 It seems that this was not an invented tradition in the times of the Luxembourgs, but a revived one that served as a reminder of the oldest chapters of Přemyslid history. The silence in Charles’s order about the Přemyslid memorial items can be explained by understanding that the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum was based on liturgic texts. Even if lay acts were part of its descriptions in later periods, respect for elements from the pre-Christian period that were not at all incorporated into the Christian tradition were not appropriate for the official order of the royal ceremony. Humanist Enea Silvio Piccolomini, who later became Pope Pius II, expressed a deep mistrust in the fable of Přemysl the Ploughman and its later traditions when he wrote: “But I do not believe Charles either. Kings are so trusting and do not consider anything an untruth that adds to the glory of their dynasty.”88 From Vyšehrad, the soon-to-be king returned in procession to Prague Castle where he took part in vespers and was finally led to his bedchamber, where in the morning representatives of the spiritual and lay authority “found” him and took him in ceremonial procession to the cathedral. It is difficult to find a parallel to the procession to Vyšehrad in other countries. There is a similar procession in Poland in the 15th century, but those rites can be attributed to inspiration from Bohemia. The coronation order of various kingdoms includes prescription for before the ceremony itself, with most demanding the future sovereign spend the night in the cathedral in contemplation or to fast similarly as one did before being knighted, or that he was to be ritually bathed. Generally, this can be characterised as a form of spiritual preparation for the future king and a metamorphosis to his new state. In this spirit, the coronation was a rite of passage that the king was to undergo on the day in question. We can understand the procession to the roots of Přemyslid authority at Vyšehrad connected with participation in vespers in the cathedral in a similar way. The author of the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum stressed the transformational character of the ritual by labelling the ruler undergoing the ceremony

87

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2, eds. Jiří Daňhelka, Karel Hádek, Bohuslav Havránek and Naděžda Kvítková (Prague: Academia, 1988), p. 139. Thomae Tusci Gesta imperatorum et pontificum, ed. Ernst Ehrenfeuchter, mgh SRG XXII (Hannover: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1872), pp. 527–28. See also Kateřina Kubínová, “Dosud přehlížené svědectví o Přemyslových opánkách a mošně a o korunovaci českých králů,” in Ars videndi. Professori Jaromír Homolka ad honorem (Prague: Katolická teologická fakulta, 2006), pp. 79–83. Newly with an accent on the trustworthiness of his record Libor Jan, “Přemyslovská pověst v podání minority Tomáše z Pavie,” in Klio viae et invia. Opuscula Marco Cetwiński dedicata, ed. Anna Odrzywolska-Kidawa (Warsaw: Wydawnictwo DiG, 2010), pp. 83–9. Aeneae Silvii Historia Bohemica, eds. Dana Martínková, Alena Hadravová, and Jiří Matl (Prague: Koniasch Latin Press, 1998), pp. 22–3.

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as the prince to be crowned (princeps in regem coronandus) and calls him king (rex) only after being anointed and crowned.89 Another Czech speciality prescribed in Charles’s coronation order are two short sermons: one to clerics (ad clerum) and the other to the people (ad populum). This does not mean that sermons were not part of the coronation ceremony elsewhere. Sermons were among the most significant forms of communication in medieval society. They were used to present listeners with many important lessons from the Christian faith, but they were also speeches that contributed to the self-presentation of the dynasty. That was probably the intention behind the sermons that were made part of the new king’s inauguration as we can surmise from the surviving text of the sermon given during the coronation of Charles IV. The author was Nicolaus of Louny, an Augustinian friar and one of the first professors of theology at Prague University. He chose a verse from the Book of Isaiah as the theme of his sermon (Is 62, 3: “You will be a crown of splendour in the Lord’s hand, a royal diadem in the hand of your God”). The surviving text is a complicated explanation of the symbolic meanings of Charles’s origin: the recalling of famous ancestors is exceedingly appropriate at the moment of coronation according to Nicolaus because it stresses the king’s understanding of himself as one in a series of sovereigns selected by God’s grace. In his explanation, the author chiefly concentrated on royal genealogy and tried to prove that Charles, a descendent of Charlemagne on his father’s side, and St. Wenceslas and the Přemyslid kings on his mother’s, is the most appropriate candidate to sit on the Czech royal throne. The preacher also recalled the actions of the king’s predecessors and ancestors, which were to inspire him. Nicolaus also viewed the anointing as a fundamental moment for legitimising the future king, stressing that he was called to rule by God. The famous past of Charles’s family became another supporting argument for the legitimacy of his rule. Despite not knowing whether Nicolaus actually gave his sermon, the text represents an interesting testimony about the way he used ideas that were part of the dynastic representation of the Luxembourgs, which we can find in other works written at the court in Prague.90 No other text of a sermon given during the coronation of Czech kings has survived. It is only in the description of the ceremony for Queen Sophia (1400) that we know that university master Jan of Mýto, called the Sophist, 89 90

Jaromír Homolka, “Ráno a večer. Počátek korunovačního ceremoniálu podle řádu Karla IV.,” in Verba in imaginibus. Františku Šmahelovi k 70. narozeninám, eds. Martin Nodl and Petr Sommer (Prague: Argo, 2004), pp. 169–88. Jaroslav Kadlec, “Die homiletischen Werke der Prager Magisters Nikolaus von Louny,” Augustiniana 23 (1973), pp. 242–70.

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gave an exhortation where he explained the significance of the royal insignia: the crown, precious stones, sceptres, and the orb with the cross. The theme allowed him to explain to the listeners, especially the lay public, the meanings of the ceremony and the individual insignia. The record also tells us that Jan of Mýto spoke Czech, which would suggest this was the prescribed sermon to the people.91 It is possible that the original plan intended the sermon to the people to be delivered in Czech. Its significance is plainly clear from the intentions of the author of the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum. Those present were to give the acclamation in Czech and in the moment the king was installed on the throne, clerics sang Te Deum laudamus and lay people continued with the song Hospodine pomiluj ny!92 (Lord, Have Mercy on Us). Including a Czech acclamation and the singing of old Czech songs can be understood as adherence to a supposed local form of the ceremony, but it cannot be proven that it actually existed. The use of Czech could just as likely have been a reflection of the contemporary atmosphere that was inclined to broader use of the vernacular language. It is not clear how intensively Czech was asserted in the ceremonies of the 15th century, which was a period of growing importance of vernacular languages in Central Europe. According to the surviving copy of Charles’s coronation order made for Bishop of Trento Bernard Clesio for his participation in the coronation of Ferdinand I in 1527, it is clear that the archbishop’s speech in the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum addressing the public and asking if they agreed to and subject themselves to the crowned prince was to be spoken in Czech.93 It is very probable that the version written in Czech following the Latin version corresponded to a more general practice in Europe or at least within the Empire. The coronation order for Roman kings called the order of Aachen from the time of Rudolf of Habsbourg includes the note that kings usually do not understand Latin and thus all questions and answers should be in the language of the people, in this case German.94 This practice cannot be 91 92 93

94

CDM XIII, pp. 27–28, no. 19; see also Žůrek, “Korunovace královny Žofie.” Cibulka, Český řád korunovační, p. 91: “Cunctus autem clericorum cetus tali rectore gratulans, sonantibus ympnis alta voce concinat: Te deum laudamus. Vulgus vero: Hospodyn pomyluy-ny.” Cibulka, Český řád korunovační, p. 79: “Vultis tali principi …”; During the coronation of Ferdinand I this role was played by Supreme Burgrave Zdeněk Lev of Rožmitál. See also “Ceremoniae observatae in coronatione Ferdinandi I regis Bohemiae anno 1527,” in Sněmy české od léta 1526 až po naši dobu I. 1526–1545 (Prague: Královský český archiv zemský, 1877), no. 157, p. 223. Coronatio Aquisgranensis, ed. Georg Heinrich Pertz, mgh LL II (Hannover: Bibliopolii avlici Hahniani, 1837), pp. 384–392, here pp. 386–387: “rex tanquam illiteratus et laicus”.

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ruled out in the Czech lands, where the prescribed reply from those present was to be in Czech.95 The question asked of the public preceding the acclamation is documented to be in Czech only for the 1527 coronation of Ferdinand I, although we can consider it likely in the case of Albert II’s coronation in 1438 when, as we have discussed, Oldřich of Rožmberk addressed the public instead of the celebrant. This was the only moment when all those present actively took part in the ritual, but it is doubtful that nobles were able to understand Latin perfectly. Many years later, Pavel Stránský wrote that the king took the coronation oath in Czech, which can be considered more a reflection of an older tradition than the contemporary reality of the 17th century.96 The oath was also a regular part of coronation regulations in all countries. The king usually took the oath after being installed, but sometimes this took place before. According to Charles’s coronation order, the king was to take the oath twice, first as part of the so-called scrutinium, where the king promised to maintain the Catholic faith and uphold the laws. Basically, the same oath was then sworn toward the end of the ceremony after instalment. The inalienability of the king’s domain that Charles IV tried to assure in the law codex Maiestas Carolina was to be confirmed as part of the coronation, when the king was to pledge to the inalienability of several specific estates “before the Prague Archbishop places the crown on his head.”97 The author was probably thus referencing the scrutiny. The order that the king pledged to maintain and not forsake the royal domain was used in many territories and was also included in coronation orders. Charles IV’s order from the never-enacted law is in this respect unusually specific in its list of inalienable estates. The proposed oath was not included in the coronation order and we can thus infer that it was not part of the ceremony either, most probably to not remind the king or the lords present about the un-promulgated law.98 The coronation ceremony was not limited to just the prescribed rituals, but it also included a series of traditions. These consist of the aforementioned knighting, a feast held in a public place as was the case in the 14th century and later at Prague Castle, a chivalric tournament, and other events. As this was a ritual designed to demonstrate publicly the legitimacy of the ascension of a 95 96 97 98

Cibulka, Český řád korunovační, p. 79. Pavel Stránský ze Zápské Stránky, Český stát, ed. Bohumil Ryba (Prague: Odeon, 1953), p. 125. Bernd-Ulrich Hergemöller, Maiestas Carolina. Der Kodifikationsentwurf Karls IV. für das Königreich Böhmen von 1355 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1995), p. 60. Martin Nodl, “Karel IV. a reprezentace královské moci: královská přísaha a královská korunovace, Ordo ad coronandum regis a Maiestas Carolina,” in Moc a její symbolika ve středověku, pp. 93–102.

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new king and not everyone could be personally present inside the cathedral, public processions also played an important role. These could take place on the eve of the coronation as was prescribed during the reign of Charles IV when the future king was to walk through all of Prague’s towns to Vyšehrad and back (a similar procession then awaited his body one more time, after his death).99 In many cases, however, these were not undertaken and remained an unfulfilled section of the Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum. Prague Castle was uninhabited for most of the 15th century and the king resided at King’s Court in the Old Town. That is why he had to travel to the Castle and back, during which he could receive tribute from the people of Prague and other spectators. Contemporary records show that coins were thrown to the spectators during this event so they did not crowd the king. This practice was also designed to show the generosity of the new ruler, but it can also be evaluated pragmatically. It was appropriate for the procession with the king to be greeted by a lane lined with people. Two rulers with advanced ideas of self-presentation based on public demonstrations of piety also founded ecclesiastic institutions as the culmination of taking the throne and both founded a monastery a day after their coronations: Wenceslas II at Zbraslav and his grandson Charles IV founded Our Lady of the Snows in Prague’s New Town. We basically lack iconographic sources for the coronation of the Czech kings. It is possible that only the illuminated initials that accompany Litomyšl Bishop Albert of Šternberk’s pontifical from 1376 show the key act of placing the crown on the head of the king and queen. The same image accompanies two later manuscripts of an Old Czech translation of Charles’s coronation order from the Jagiellonian period. It can be expected that both manuscripts were created as a gift for the incoming king. Czech nobles probably wanted to use this method to instruct first King Vladislaus and later his son Louis about the political legacy of Charles IV. This is why both manuscripts include the Maiestas Carolina code and Charles’s coronation order. This text associated with the ceremonial instalment of the king and including the entire order written in understandable language probably had significant symbolic importance for the Czech nobility. The text of the order is accompanied by three illuminations showing prelates placing the crown on the heads of the king and queen and the royal couple in their majesty. We must see these images as a visual accompaniment to the text and not its component. In the image, the crown is placed on the head of the king and queen by two prelates, which does not correspond to the text of Charles’s coronation rite that they accompany. It is very probable, however, that the 99

Cf. František Šmahel’s chapter on royal funerals in this book.

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illuminator was inspired by a standard image from medieval pontifical, which especially in Central Europe displayed the king and queen this way regardless of local context and the actual order of the ceremony. Pontificals created in a Roman Curia environment or in Western Europe often tried to stress the role of the bishop or archbishop during in the coronation ceremony with their visual accompaniments. This is rather rare in Central European manuscripts.100 Besides the aforementioned example of Albert of Šternberk, we can mention the one belonging to Oradea Bishop John Filipec (died before 1509), which was probably used to organise the Hungarian coronation of Vladislaus II, or a pontifical from the Polish environment written for Erazm Ciołek (died before 1522).101 For a closer idea of the visual form of the ritual, we often have to rely on parallels from other areas, such as France, where a series of coronation scenes are offered in the richly illuminated Grandes Chroniques de France. Images of the instalment rituals of new kings appropriately provide a rhythm for the narrative of French history. The most valuable, however, are two French coronation orders (one from the 13th century and another from the 14th) accompanied by detailed illuminations of a nearly documentary nature that can be used to recreate the ritual step-by-step.102 7

Actors – Organisers – Public

A fundamental change in the Czech coronation rite took place with the foundation of the Prague Archbishopric. Pope Clement VI granted, or more appropriately transferred, the right to anoint and crown Czech kings to the Prague archbishop in a charter dated May 5, 1344.103 That was a significant shift beyond only the symbolic level. From this date onward, the ceremony was in the hands of a domestic prelate that was influenced to a much greater extent by the sovereign and it was thus much easier to organise the ritual. The king of 100 Cf. Éric Palazzo, L’évêque et son image. L’illustration du Pontifical au Moyen Âge (Turnhout: Brepols, 1999), on the topic of coronation scenes, see especially pp. 266–305. 101 Cf. Ludwig Schmugge, “Das Pontifikale des Bischofs Albrecht von Sternberg,” Mediaevalia Bohemica 3 (1970), pp. 49–86. 102 Le sacre royal à l‘époque de Saint Louis: d’après le manuscrit latin 1246 de la BNF, ed. Jacques Le Goff (Paris: Gallimard, 2001); Carra Ferguson O’Meara, Monarchy and Consent. The Coronation Book of Charles V of France. British Library MS Cotton Tiberius B. VIII (London: Harvey Miller Publishers, 2001). 103 Monumenta Vaticana Bohemica, vol. I, ed. Ladislav Klincman (Prague: Typis Gregerianis, 1903), no. 393, pp. 239–40.

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Bohemia was less dependent on the will of the Mainz archbishop, and the form of the coronation was much more under the direction of the Prague court the next time around. This is the reason we can suppose that a unique coronation rite for Czech kings was only compiled for the first time after 1344. This would have been meaningless earlier on as the coronation ritual was at the very least organised according to an order recorded in the Mainz pontifical (the so-called Pontificale Romano Germanicum) the celebrant brought with him.104 The affiliation of the kingdom with the Mainz Archbishopric influenced the opportunities and circumstance for organising a coronation ceremony. Negotiations with the metropolitan had to take place each time and his willingness also depended on the actual political situation within the empire. Kings of Bohemia were not the only ones to see this state as a deficiency when compared to neighbouring kingdoms like Hungary and Poland. The author of the chronicle of Polish princes recalls a speech by Bishop Nanker about the Czech king: “Know that he is not a king, but a little king (regulus) […] because many kings have their own archbishops who anoint, sanctify, and crown them, but the Czech king has no one for that and when it is necessary, he has to turn to the Mainz Archbishop, who crowned the Czech king in the past.”105 Developments in the Czech kingdom, however, showed that the Prague archbishops had few opportunities to anoint a Czech king. Archbishop Ernest of Pardubice had the honour twice: for Charles IV and his two-year old son Wenceslas. Charles’s second-born son, Sigismund, was crowned by acting Archbishop Conrad of Vechta, which is the end of the medieval list of coronations. During the coronations of other Czech kings, the post of archbishop was either occupied by the elected Utraquist Archbishop John Rokycana, whose assistance would desecrate the ceremony in the eyes of Catholics, or the Prague archbishop seat was vacant. Thus, all kings of the post-Hussite period were forced to be anointed and crowned by other prelates as the Roman Church considered the office of the Prague Archbishop vacant until 1561. The archbishop that was selected as celebrant was not the only cleric to take part actively in the ritual. He was assisted by other invited bishops. Another prescribed role fell to two abbots who brought the holy oil from the chapel of St. Wenceslas to the altar in a chalice. The Ordo ad coronandum regem boemorum does not offer details as to which abbots were to perform this service. We can infer they must have been selected from among those monastery abbots the pope had granted the right to wear a mitre. The coronation of the 104 Žůrek, “Korunovační řád Karla IV.,” pp. 128–34. 105 Chronica principum Poloniae, ed. Zygmunt Węclewski, mph III (Lviv: nakładem własnym, 1878), p. 520.

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queen required the participation of the abbess of the convent of St. George at Prague Castle, the oldest ecclesiastic institution in Bohemia. The standing of the superior of this order was already exceptional because of the monastery’s location. During the reigns of the last Přemyslids, the abbess was usually a member of the ruling dynasty. That is why the author of Charles’s coronation order reasoned the assistance of the abbess through her dignity (propter sui dignitatem). Abbess Kunigunde of Bohemia, member of the Přemyslid dynasty, allegedly actively took part in the coronation of John and Elizabeth in 1311, so it is possible that her participation in the coronation ritual of the queen was the norm already during the time of the Přemyslids.106 We can also read about the presence of the contemporary abbess in the coronation of Queen Sophia. Finally, we cannot forget the choir of clerics that participated in the ceremony with the prescribed hymns. Coronation ceremonies became a welcome opportunity to show oneself at the royal court, not only for high-ranking church officials, but also for nobles and burghers. Because of the importance of the ritual, no member of these social groups hesitated to attend, and if it was at all possible, they arrived at court and took part in the ceremony. At least that was the case if they agreed with the succession of the new king. An elected king took power in the Czech kingdom several times during the 15th and 16th centuries, lacking the support of all elite classes. Those who travelled to Prague for coronation ceremonies (clerics, nobles, and burghers, mostly from Prague) significantly expanded the court that normally included a much smaller number of people. These courtiers were supplemented by a number of foreign guests who provided lustre and an international dimension, something that was true of the ceremony in the Přemyslid period as well. The configuration of the expanded ceremonial court (the so-called curia plena) was altered as many important men of the kingdom could demand one of the prestigious services incorporated into the coronation as a result of their influence despite not currently holding an important position at court, and not taking part in its operations. It was, however, the most appropriate opportunity to demonstrate their personal and dynastic prestige. The most honourable method for a member of the court or other lay dignitary to take part in the ceremony was to carry insignia in the procession accompanying the king and queen from the castle palace to the cathedral. The procession was led by the supreme chamberlain, blazing a path with the wand. Who provided the service of carrying the individual insignia, especially the crown, imperial orb, sceptre, and sword, was not constant as can be seen 106 Zdeňka Hledíková, Arnošt z Pardubic. Arcibiskup, zakladatel a rádce (Prague: Vyšehrad, 2008), p. 87.

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when comparing the cases we know about.107 That is why we do not see a set of unchanging rules binding an office, be it courtly or land, and a specific service during the ceremonial instalment ritual. It seems the greater role was played by the current political position of active individuals. Sometimes, one of the honorary services was performed by a man who held no office at the time and if needed the honorary functions could be divided among more people ad hoc. Besides the procession, the ransoming of the sword and its carrying in front of the king was an honorary function, which, as in other countries, was probably entrusted to the highest-ranking military official.108 The conflicts that erupted over who would carry the insignia, especially at the beginning of the 16th century, are witness to the shifting nature of these honorary services.109 In the post-Hussite Bohemia, the most influential lay lords received an opportunity to grow their prestige both during the procession to St. Vitus cathedral and by taking part in the ceremony itself. This rather unique situation in the European context was the result of domestic social and political developments. The importance of the sacred aspect of royal ceremonies had eroded and the influence of the estates constantly grew. This evolution culminated in the most important moment of the coronation, which gradually became the act of placing the crown on the head of the future king, being performed by Czech lords with the celebrating (arch)bishop together, as took place symbolically during the coronation of Albert II in 1438 and most probably also in the case of his son Ladislaus Posthumous. An unusual honorary service was carrying the future king who was still a child to the coronation just as Frederick, Margrave of Brandenburg, carried little Louis in 1509. Burghers also wanted to demonstrate their social standing through active participation in the coronation. We can use a record from the Old Town book of privileges with a surviving description of Queen Sophia’s coronation from 1400 to evaluate their role. According to this record, the Old Town councillors, the first notary and other notaries, and the elders of the city went to the Castle on order of King Wenceslas IV. The councillors came dressed in the same, probably black colour, along with the entire community accompanied by candle bearers from among the city’s guilds and tradesmen. The queen’s master of the curia, steward Bořivoj of Svinaře, ordered the glove-wearing councillors 107 Clearly described in Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály,” pp. 163–6. 108 Václav Žůrek, “Dvůr a dvorská hierarchie v korunovačním obřadu pozdně středověkých Čech,” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku III. Všední a sváteční život na středověkých dvorech, eds. Dana Dvořáčková-Malá and Jan Zelenka (Prague: Historický ústav AV ČR, 2009), pp. 93–103. 109 Cf. the case of Louis II of Hungary, his wife Mary, and King Ferdinand I as described by Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály,” pp. 156–62.

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to come to the royal palace with the silver-covered sceptres. Their other task was to lead the procession during the ceremonial arrival at the cathedral. The motivation for recording this passage into the Old Town book of privileges was simply because they were asked to provide these services. As Charles’s coronation order does not mention the participation of burghers at all, the record of their active participation can be seen as a sort of privilege that represents recognition of their confirming role in the ritual sanctifying Queen Sophia.110 Who was present in the cathedral and thus who was the expected public for whom the ceremony was performed? Who were the people (populus) spoken about in the coronation order? These were not just the simple inhabitants of medieval Prague. Besides important prelates and religious individuals associated with the cathedral and archbishopric, they were university professors and especially representatives of the nobility from all of the lands of the Czech crown, whose active role we have already discussed. The public also included burghers, predominantly from Prague as well as guests from abroad, and ambassadors from other sovereign courts. St. Vitus cathedral, even in its medieval dimensions, could hold quite a large number of people and there is no mention in the sources of scaffolding being built for spectators.111 The coronation was usually a public event and all those in attendance confirmed its importance and the validity of the coronation ceremony with their presence. The complaint in the Old Czech Annals claims the coronation of Louis II was “sort of not free, admittance to the church was not granted except for favour and no coins were thrown, nor are casks of wine and beer at court as was usual under other kings.”112 Critical complaints about Sigismund’s ceremony in 1420 testify to the contemporary idea that the coronation should have taken place publicly. Vavřinec of Březová, who was also probably the author of the pamphlet Porok koruny české (A Complaint of the Czech Crown), bases his critical denouncement of Sigismund’s coronation on ideas about its prescribed course, which is why he points out its closed nature and the absence of a royal oath. This idea has a more general character and we do not have to suppose Vavřinec’s knowledge of Charles IV’s coronation order (though a certain awareness among the political elite in the Czech kingdom about Charles’s coronation rite can be expected, mostly on the basis of its surviving copies, Old Czech translations, or cases of concise excerpts). Proof of a lasting knowledge of the proper order of the 110 Žůrek, “Korunovace královny Žofie,” pp. 208–9. 111 The rood screen would have blocked the view in many cathedrals before the Council of Trent. In Reims, for example, this significantly reduced the number of people that could watch the coronation in person. 112 Staří letopisové čeští od roku 1378 do 1527, ed. František Palacký (Prague: J.H. Pospíšil, 1829), p. 300; For more see F. Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály,” pp. 156–7.

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coronation is further documented by later efforts to uphold the prescription in the latter post-Hussite period.113 A significant role in organising the ritual associated with royal authority was played by the genius loci, the city and place that played host to this event from the early Middle Ages. Later rulers also referenced this tradition, which was generally only changed in exceptional cases and with great difficulty. The strength of tradition and the threat of putting into doubt the whole ritual as a basic foundation for rule, was rather strong. This change took place in Poland where Cracow replaced Gniezno in the 14th century. In Hungary, the tradition of St. Stephen established Székesfehérvár as the coronation location just like the tombs of St. Remi and St. Ampulla established Reims as the coronation site in France. The only place in medieval Bohemia where coronations took place was the cathedral of St. Vitus, which never had its role doubted, even during the period when Prague Castle was uninhabited and the king resided in the town below. Comparative studies from medieval Europe show the fundamental elements for a valid coronation were respecting the determined location, celebrant, and insignia, and we must not forget the prescribed acts. These could be altered and if the new order was sufficiently convincing and effective, it could become the new tradition. The efforts of medieval rulers and their associates to maintain traditions in order to assure the validity of the ritual can best be demonstrated in the phenomenon of repeated coronations. This procedure is not documented in the Czech environment, but Charles IV allowed himself to be crowned a second time at the tomb of Charlemagne in Aachen in 1349. The main reason for the repeated ceremony was that one of the three basic conditions dictated by tradition in the given territory was not fulfilled: in this case the “appropriate” place, celebrant, and insignia, especially the crown. These rules cannot be demonstrated more clearly than in the story of Charles I of Hungary, who claimed the Hungarian throne in the first decade of the 14th century. After the public declaration of the claim to the Hungarian throne by the house of Anjou, Charles Martel of Anjou allowed himself to be crowned by the papal legate, which shows a complete lack of understanding of the context and importance of tradition for the coronation ritual in Hungary. After his death, Charles I registered his claim and had himself crowned for the first time in Esztergom in 1301 by the local archbishop. This ceremony fulfilled only one of the three listed criteria: the prelate celebrating the ceremony. Only a few months later in the same year, his competitor for the throne, the 113 On post-Hussite coronations in a broad sense see Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály,” pp. 151– 62; Čornej, “Pohaslý lesk panovnického majestátu,” pp. 99–122; on later copies of the coronation rite, see Žůrek, “Předpis, literární dílo nebo pamětní záznam,” pp. 103–14.

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Přemyslid Wenceslas (dubbed Wenceslas III in the Bohemia and Ladislaus V in Hungary), son of Wenceslas II, was crowned. His ceremony took place in the Székesfehérvár basilica and Jan of Kalocza placed the crown of St. Stephen on his head; which was thus the only point where the local tradition was not upheld. The rivalry was understandably accompanied by a fight to persuade a decisive majority of supporters among the influential Hungarian nobility. This was associated with the conflict for control over Székesfehérvár and possession of the insignia. After resigning his claim to rule in Hungary, Wenceslas III presented the insignia to allied pretender Otto III of Bavaria, who was decorated with the insignia in the prescribed church by two bishops as the Hungarian metropolitan was in his opponent’s camp. Charles I had himself crowned again in 1309, probably to strengthen his claim and demonstrate his dominance, this time at a point when a large part of the kingdom recognised him as its sovereign. This took place in Buda using a crown that was especially created and consecrated for this ceremony. However, this was not enough in a kingdom where the charismatic authority of the tradition of St. Stephen literally controlled royal majesty. Charles thus had to acquire the crown of St. Stephen and undergo a third coronation on August 27, 1310 when the prescribed diadem was placed on his head by the Esztergom metropolitan in St. Mary’s basilica in Székesfehérvár. The tradition was thus fulfilled only on the third attempt.114 The symbolic importance of the coronation for Charles I is confirmed by a fresco from the Špišská kapitula chapter from around 1320, where the kneeling king is crowned by the Virgin Mary and the Christ Child with the assistance of a burgrave with a sword, the archbishop holding the crown, and a cleric with the imperial orb. The lasting importance of the above-mentioned conditions for a valid coronation in Hungary was known 130 years later to the nanny Helena Kottaner, who held 12-month-old Ladislaus Posthumous during his own ritual. In her memoirs, she remembered the importance of the Hungarian tradition: “Because in the Hungarian kingdom they have three laws, and if only one is violated, the idea that the king is not valid is true. The first law is that the Hungarian king must be crowned by the holy crown [of St. Stephen]. The second is that the king must be crowned by the Archbishop of Esztergom. The third is that the coronation must take place in Székesfehérvár.”115 The traditional place for holding the installation ritual of Hungarian kings also included a specific throne as recalled by the poem written by an Austrian monk who 114 Cf. Pál Engel, Gyula Kristó and András Kubinyi, Histoire de la Hongrie médiévale, vol. 2. Des Angevins aux Habsbourgs (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2008), pp. 23–9; Dušan Zupka, Ritual and Symbolic Communication in Medieval Hungary under the Árpád Dynasty (1000–1301) (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2016), pp. 36–45. 115 “Die Denkwürdigkeiten der Helene Kottanerin,” p. 272.

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visited Hungary in the 1240s and saw the court of Bela IV of Hungary for himself: “To this day, when kings are crowned they are placed on Stephen’s throne, and his famous weapons decorate those who are sanctified as king by the leading clerics of the kingdom.”116 Continuity was one of the fundamental factors that contributed to the legitimisation of royal authority. The need to recall older traditions is especially marked in the coronation ceremony. Medieval society did not usually question the authenticity of individual historical arguments; but the authority of the past was only effective when it created a continuity between the thematic past and the present. It was identification with the dynasty that ruled the territory from time immemorial or a connection to an ancient or legendary ruler and carrier of charismatic legitimacy that could aid the current sovereign in consolidating his claim to the throne and offer arguments for legitimising his position. The importance of the coronation for establishing the ruler’s authority and confirming his legitimacy was impossible to ignore in medieval kingdoms. Recall how the contemporaries of the French King Charles VII considered his coronation in Reims in 1429 a watershed moment as Joan of Arc led him to it precisely according to her promise. The moment of his anointing with the holy oil from St. Ampulla and placing the crown of Charlemagne on the head of the dauphin Charles was seen by observers as a breakthrough moment and a triumph despite the English not having been defeated or even expelled from the French kingdom.117 8

Conclusion

The cultural and political development of Czech medieval society can be documented using the course of individual coronations of Czech kings and queens. At first, the Roman rite was adopted in the Czech lands along with Christianity, becoming dominant in the 9th century in the Latin cultural circle. This prepared the ground for the coronation ritual itself, which was undoubtedly liturgical. During the 13th century, the coronation ritual in the Czech kingdom became a welcome opportunity to represent royal majesty. However, it was only with the ascension of the Luxembourgs that it became understood as a constitutional ritual for royal authority and thus necessary for its legal 116 Scriptores rerum Hungaricarum, vol. II, ed. Emerich Szentpétery (Budapest: Societate Histor. Hungarica, 1938), p. 607. These verses come from the Chronicon Rythmicum Sitticense: “Reges usque hodie / quando coronantur, / in prefati Stephani / solio locantur / Suis armis inclitis / illi decorantur / qui per regni presules / in reges consecrantur.” 117 Colette Beaune, Jeanne d’Arc (Paris: Perrin, 2004).

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enforcement. The creation of the coronation order under Charles IV stressed the legitimising character of the ritual based on the sacred foundation of royal power on the one hand, and public adherence to the Přemyslid tradition as seen in the procession to Vyšehrad and the multiple items and acts associated with St. Wenceslas on the other hand. Even though the ritual was probably never carried out in its prescribed form, it influenced all coronations in the subsequent centuries. The coronation ceremonies organised in the 15th and the beginning of the 16th centuries were chiefly influenced by the dynamic development of the nobility’s standing, which claimed its share of the administration of royal power in the post-revolutionary period. The higher nobility wanted to demonstrate this fact in the ritualised installation of the ruler hand-in-hand with acclamation of the king on the basis of negotiations and elections. Beginning with the coronation of Albert II in 1438, and until the coronation of Ferdinand I in 1527, we can document the more active role of lay lords in the ritual that took place in St. Vitus Cathedral. This was possible thanks to the absence of the Prague archbishop as the coronation had to be administered by other bishops. All the described individualities held an importance for the course of a certain ceremony, but the question remains as to the extent of the influence these changes had on the understanding of the coronation ritual in contemporary society. A successful, or rather a valid ritual, was not so much dependent on external conditions, but on upholding the set order considered correct by the society in which it took place. However, the validity of the ritual is understandably not interchangeable with respect to the authority of the crowned king. That is why the kingdom was ruled by an anointed and crowned ruler aged only two years as was the case with Wenceslas IV, or that the coronation could be postponed for a relatively long time under certain circumstances. Regardless, the coronation ritual as such was necessary to reproduce the social order and fulfil the constitutional function for valid royal authority in the medieval Czech lands. Despite the clear effort on the part of Czech lay lords to dominate the coronation, it cannot be supposed even in the post-Hussite era that this would fundamentally influence the religious nature of the ritual. This was not stressed in the records from medieval reporters, but we cannot forget that the fundamental axis of the entire coronation was liturgical acts (anointing, presentation of insignia) accompanied by prayers. The prescribed ritual was an expression of spiritual connotations that royal power was inherently associated with in medieval society. Despite various specifics seen in the coronations of various kingdoms, the installation ritual represents one of the examples of cultural unification in medieval Europe.

Chapter 2

Royal Weddings and Divorces Martin Nodl Weddings, just like baptisms and funerals, were events in medieval aristocratic life that were proscribed by ritualised behaviour beginning in the 12th and 13th centuries. The forms came from highly formalised general expectations used across medieval Europe, as well as many local norms that were often based on pre-Christian traditions of courtly celebrations. Weddings provided the parents of children whose marriages were motivated solely by political concerns the opportunity to demonstrate outwardly their wealth and power and to use the event to secure informally political alliances with the invited guests. In this respect, weddings were not only costly courtly celebrations, but also carefully-considered investments, whose returns depended on the strength of the concluded marriage and the ability of the young wives to overcome the dangers of childbirth and postpartum complications, which were the most common cause of death among aristocratic women. From the point of view of rituals and ritual behaviour associated with marriage, we need to realize at the outset that aristocratic ideas about how to establish a marriage fundamentally differed in many aspects from those of medieval church representatives.1 In the noble world, decisions about the choice of a partner were made by parents, especially in the case of daughters, while the Church preferred the agreement of both potential mates. Nobles married their family members, while the church favoured a strict ban on marriages between close blood and spiritual relations. Royal and ducal courts were tolerant of mistresses, while the Church demanded strict monogamy. There were also differences in the expectations for matrimonial ritual practices among ecclesiastic officials, nobles, and the common people. From the end of the 12th century onward, canons and church reformers worked for all marriages to be concluded in facie ecclesiae.2 However, we need to understand the term “before the eyes” of the church in a broader sense. According to the 1 Joachim Bumke, Höfische Kultur. Literatur und Gesellschaft im hohen Mittelalter (Munich: Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, 1997), p. 544. 2 Cf. James A. Brundage, “Marriage and Sexuality in the Decretales of Pope Alexander III,” in Miscellanea Rolando Bandinelli Papa Alessandro III, ed. Filippo Liotta (Siena: Accademia senese degli intronati, 1986), pp. 57–83. For general overview see Christopher Nugent Lawrence Brooke, The Medieval Idea of Marriage (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989).

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Fourth Lateran Council, a priest was to be present for a wedding, which was to take place in front of the church doors. In this early phase, the priest did not officiate the ceremony, but was only a witness or a spiritual individual that blessed the sacrament the partners exchanged with one another through his sacred power and his presence. However, we know from the rural and town environments of the late Middle Ages that marriages were very often established in a completely lay manner without the participation of a priest.3 The resistant lay world adapted to the demands of the Church only very slowly, and remained loyal to its old, sometimes archaic rituals.4 However, the ecclesiastic sacralised wedding established itself among ruling houses in the 13th century and it seems almost unthinkable that Wenceslas I or Ottokar II of Bohemia would not be married in front of a priest, to say nothing of the marriages of Charles IV or his numerous relations and children. However, we lack sources for most royal weddings, remaining dependent on simple entries in chronicles recording that a certain king or prince married a particular bride. The actual way Kings of Bohemia and their children were married can thus often only be observed through suggestions, in fragments of chronicle entries, or in marriage contracts that did not define the ritual, but instead ensured the bride’s property rights and filled the royal coffers.5 We still encounter purely lay weddings in the imperial environment as late as the beginning of the 13th century. The two marriages of Holy Roman Emperor Otto IV are a good illustration. His first marriage to Beatrix, the daughter of Philip of Swabia, took place according to the French tradition with 3 Martin Nodl, “Pronikání kanonického práva do českého prostředí, jeho recepce nařízeními církve a rezistence laického prostředí vůči kanonickým předpisům,” in Sacri canones ser­vandi sunt. Ius canonicus et status ecclesiae saeculi XIII–XV, ed. Pavel Krafl (Prague: Historický ústav AV ČR, 2008), pp. 651–9. 4 In Poland, however, the nobility was very resistant to church regulation in many ways in relation to the manner of marriage, cf. Maria Koczerska, “Zawarcie małżeństwa wśród szlachty w Polsce późnego średniowiecza,” Przegłąd Historyczny 66 (1975), pp. 9–22; Maria Koczerska, Rodzina szlachecka w Polsce późnego średniowiecza (Warsaw: Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1975), pp. 15–41. 5 In this respect, surviving wedding contracts for the Luxembourg monarchs has comprehensively analyzed Dieter Veldtrup, “Ehen aus Staaatsräson. Die Familien– und Heiratspolitk Johanns von Böhmen,” in Johann der Blinde, Graf von Luxemburg, König von Böhmen 1296– 1346, ed. Michael Pauly (Luxembourg: Section Historique de l’Institut Grand-Ducal de Luxembourg, 1997), pp. 483–542; Dieter Veldtrup, Zwischen Eherecht und Familienpolitik. Studien zu den dynastischen Heiratsprojekten Karls IV. (Warendorf: Fahlbusch/Hölscher/ Rieger, 1988); František Kavka, “Zum Plan der luxemburgischen Thronfolge in Polen (1386– 1382). Strittige Forschungsfragen,” Zeitschrift für historische Forschung 13 (1986), pp. 257–83. For Polish Jagiellonian kings and princesses cf. Urszula Borkowska, “Pacta matrimonialia domu Jagiellonów,” Roczniky Humanistyczne 48 (2000), pp. 44–60.

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a cleric present. After her death in 1212, he married Mary of Brabant without the participation of the Church. However, this was an exceptional case in the contemporary aristocratic environment. It is possible the purely lay nature of the wedding, where the couple took their oaths in front one of Otto’s relatives who played the role of officiate, was what perked the interest of contemporary chroniclers and minnesangers,6 almost as if the old-style ritual was an exception from the everyday as opposed to an expression of the dominant ceremonial practice. That could also explain the “great silence” among narrative sources about the weddings of the Kings of Bohemia and their issue. For example, none of Charles IV’s four marriages have been colourfully described by narrative chroniclers.7 This may have been because none of the weddings took place on his territory and the King of Bohemia and later Holy Roman Emperor travelled to the lands of his brides, which was an exception for the time when women usually travelled to their husbands, often in lavish fashion. The silence of the chroniclers could also stem from the royal wedding ritual being so well-known and easily identified that there was no reason to record it. For chroniclers that delighted in descriptions, the courtly celebrations, opulent feasts, and tournaments that took place after the couple exchanged their vows were a much more attractive topic than the church ceremony that was often closed to the public, or in the case of kings and dukes it was sometimes reserved only for a narrow group of courtiers and wedding guests. The lack of domestic testimonies about weddings in the Czech environment could equally be influenced by the fact that Charles IV and other kings were only exceptionally married in Prague. The capital last saw a royal wedding in 1303 when Wenceslas II married Elisabeth Richeza of Poland,8 the 6 Bernd Ulrich Hucker, Otto IV. Der wiederentdeckte Kaiser (Frankfurt am Main/Leipzig: Insel, 2003), pp. 371–85. 7 Cf. Veldtrup, Zwischen Eherecht und Familienpolitik; František Kavka, Čtyři ženy Karla IV. Královské sňatky (Prague: Paseka, 2002). The wedding of Charles’s daughter Catherine to Rudolf IV Habsburg is characteristic in this respect. According to the marriage contract, this 1348 marriage between children should have been confirmed in 1353. Charles decided to combine the wedding celebration with a large congress of princes held in Prague before June 1353. As this was to be a thoroughly grandiose event also attended by the Polish and Hungarian kings, Charles IV enacted a tax on the realm to finance the wedding. See Regesta Imperii, vol. VIII. Die Regesten des Kaiserreichs unter Kaiser Karl IV. (1346–1378), ed. Alfons Huber (Hildesheim: Universitäts Buchdruckerei, 1968), p. 634, no. 6366. The fact representatives of Strassbourg were invited is the only thing we know about the celebration itself (Regesta Imperii, vol. VIII, p. 123, no. 1553), which implies that a number of imperial estates took part. Other than that, the sources do not mention any wedding celebration. 8 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, ed. Josef Emler, frb IV (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1884), p. 86.

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daughter of the Polish King Przemysł II, and then in 1306 when the widowed Elisabeth married the recently elected King Rudolf I of Bohemia.9 The Zbraslav chronicler that reported about both of these weddings ignored the ceremony itself and focused on the queen’s coronation, as was the norm in such cases, as well as the subsequent feast; the 1306 marriage was only mentioned. Neither John of Luxembourg, nor his son Charles, nor his sons Wenceslas and Sigismund were married in Prague after 1303. Preparations for a grand wedding between Ladislaus Posthumous and Magdalena of France, daughter of French King Charles VII, were scuppered after Ladislaus’s unexpected death.10 Prague played host to the weddings of several royal daughters in the 14th century, but none of them attracted the attention of the chroniclers to record a detailed description. As the same is true for chroniclers of neighbouring lands, and because we lack the royal accounting for the period that would list the resources spent on the weddings, not to mention the absence of a list of invited guests or even marriage rites, as seen in the imperial environment of the 15th century, we must rely solely on the laconic fragments from weddings of royal daughters that provide only dim flashes of knowledge about courtly marriages. The only exception that provides a detailed record of a wedding from a domestic chronicler is the record by Peter of Zittau that details the marriage of Wenceslas II’s daughter Elisabeth of Bohemia to John of Luxembourg, the son of Holy Roman Emperor Henry VII.11 (figure 2.1) We thus face a dilemma. Do we tell the story of this wedding that took place on imperial territory, most probably using the traditions of the French court that in many respects differed greatly from the court celebrations and rituals of the Empire and the Kingdom of Bohemia; or do we try to re-build a sort of idealised picture of an aristocratic wedding from the 13th–15th century? The preparations for the above-mentioned wedding in Speyer and its several days of celebrations will, to a certain extent, become an omnipresent guide. However, as this wedding is something exceptional in the Central European context, and because the couple were both considered adults at the time they took their vows, we will have to leave the story in our narrative 9 10 11

Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 110. Rudolf Urbánek, Konec Ladislava Pohrobka (Prague: Česká akademie věd a umění, 1924), pp. 116–46. I already attempted to confront this source with others to capture the exceptional nature of this wedding in the study Martin Nodl, “Rituál královských svateb a zásnub,” in Antropologické přístupy v historickém bádání, eds. Martin Nodl and Daniela Tinková (Prague: Argo, 2007), pp. 163–87. See recently published catalogue of the exhibition Královský sňatek. Eliška Přemyslovna a Jan Lucemburský – 1310. Katalog výstavy Galerie, Muzea a Archivu hl. m. Prahy, ed. Klára Benešovská (Prague: Gallery, 2010), does not offer anything new about the topic at hand, which is also true of the description of the wedding of John of Luxembourg and Elisabeth of Bohemia.

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Figure 2.1 The Marriage of John of Luxembourg and Elisabeth Přemyslid from Codex Balduineus

several times to tell other accounts: including the weddings of juveniles; weddings that were prepared but never took place for one reason or another; or marriages that ended not in the death of one of the partners, but instead a politically motivated divorce. We will have to abandon the Speyer wedding entirely for the 15th century, especially for the second half, as a more costly model of wedding celebrations, seemingly according to the Burgundian example,12 began to take hold in the imperial environment.13 The most opulent were weddings that took place in Urach (1474),14 Amberg (1474),15 and

12 13

14 15

For the Burgundian example see Werner Paravicini, “Die zwölf ‘Magnificenses’ Karls des Kühnen,” in Formen und Funktionen öffentlicher Kommunikation im Mittelalter, ed. Gerd Althoff (Stuttgart: Jan Thorbecke, 2001), pp. 328–39. This model was theoretically defined by Karl–Heinz Spieß, “Höfische Feste im Europa des 15. Jahrhunderts,” in Das europäische Mittelalter im Spannungsbogen des Vergleichs. Zwanzig internationale Beiträge zu Praxis, Problemmen und Perspektiven des Historischen Komparatistik, ed. Michael Borgolte (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2001), pp. 339–57. Recently Gabriel Zeilinger, Die Uracher Hochzeit 1474. Form und Funktion eines höfischen Festes im 15. Jahrhundert (Frankfurt am Main/Berlin/Bern/Bruxelles/New York/Oxford/ Vienna: Peter Lang, 2003). This wedding was processed in detail by Maximilian Buchner, “Quellen zur Amberger Hochzeit von 1474,” Archiv für Kulturgeschichte 6 (1908), pp. 385–438; Maximilian Buchner, “Die Amberger Hochzeit (1474). Ein Beitrag zur politischen und kulturellen Geschichte

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Landshut (1475),16 during which organisers consciously mimicked previous weddings and competed in lavishness and cost while contributing to the creation of a new type of courtly celebration that the imperial aristocracy would copy and cultivate deep into the 16th and 17th centuries.17 These celebrations usually lasted four days beginning with the exchange of vows and church blessings on Sunday, and ended with a ceremonial farewell to guests on Wednesday. Grandiose feasts where men ate apart from women, contrary to Burgundian tradition, were part of these weddings.18 An omnipresent act at the celebrations was a ceremonial dance in specially-prepared dance halls. Another inalienable part of weddings were chivalric tournaments that were held in a different form each day as an expression of a rebirth of chivalric culture. Contrary to the Burgundian court where burghers took an active role in weddings (such as in impressive living images or at symbolic joint feasts), ducal weddings in the imperial environment were reserved only for aristocratic guests and noble clients. Lavish demonstrations of wealth thus had a different audience in the imperial environment than in Burgundy, where it served to legitimise sovereign power to the outer world. German dukes and counts, as well as the Kings of Bohemia, reserved their displays of power only for a socially exclusive environment while guests from the municipal or rural milieu were resigned to a passive role in a space of temporary abundance represented by the throwing of money and paradise wells and fountains that

16

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18

des ausgehenden Mittelalters,” Zeitschrift für Geschichte Oberrheins 25 (1910), pp. 584–604; 26 (1911), pp. 95–127. The Landshut wedding is the most researched wedding of the second half of the 15th century because of the wealth of surviving sources. Cf. primarily Sebastian Hiereth, Herzog Georgs Hochzeit zu Landshut im Jahre 1475. Eine Darstellung aus zeitgenössischen Quellen (Landshut: Verkehrsverein, 1988); Thomas Alexander Bauer, Feiern unter den Augen der Chronisten. Die Quellentexte zur Landshuter Fürstenhochzeit von 1475 (Munich: Utz, 2008). The Habsburg environment was summerized by Karl Vocelka, Habsburgische Hochzeiten 1550–1600. Kulturgeschichtliche Studien zum manieristischen Repräsentationsfest (Vienna/ Köln/Graz: Böhlau, 1976). For illustrations of wedding celebrations in the 16th century Czech and Moravian environment see for example Petr Maťa, Svět české aristokracie (1500– 1700) (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 2004), pp. 605–40; Petr Vorel, “Pernštejnská svatba v Prostějově,” ČMM 114 (1995), pp. 139–62; Petr Vorel, “Aristokratické svatby v Čechách a na Moravě v 16. století jako prostředek společenské komunikace a stavovské diplomacie,” in Slavnosti a zábavy na dvorech a v rezidenčních městech raného novověku, eds. Václav Bůžek and Pavel Král (České Budějovice: Jihočeská univerzita. Historický ústav, 2000), pp. 191–206; Pavel Král, “Křtiny, svatby a pohřby. K vzájemné reflexi panovnických a šlechtických přechodových rituálů ve druhé polovině 16. a první polovině 17. století,” in Šlechta v habsburské monarchii a císařský dvůr (1526–1740), eds. Václav Bůžek and Pavel Král (České Budějovice: Jihočeská univerzita. Historický ústav, 2003), pp. 439–56. Zeilinger, Die Uracher Hochzeit 1474, p. 67.

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provided cheap wine during the duration of the wedding celebration.19 We have no information from the Czech environment about wedding celebrations comparable to those that took place in Landshut, Urach, and Amberg. Despite their low level of narrative information, fragments of reports about the planned marriage of Vladislaus II to Barbara of Brandenburg, or the weddings of the daughters of George of Poděbrady that took place in Cheb a decade earlier, can testify that the model of courtly wedding celebrations and the ceremony whose fundamental contours were repeated from wedding to wedding found use in the Kingdom of Bohemia. 1

Selecting a Bride

In most cases in the aristocratic environment, the selection of a bride was a question solely for the groom’s family.20 The freedom to marry according to one’s own wishes as stated in canon law was significantly limited at the courts of ruling houses. Only independently ruling adult men seeking a bride held initiative on their side. However, in the late Middle Ages, even sovereigns had to consider the wishes of the estates in their selection of a bride. That was the case with Vladislaus II, who was forced by the Hungarian estates to marry the widow of Matthias Corvinus even though it was known she was infertile. If parents concluded a marriage for their children, as was generally the case, the selection of a partner was wholly up to the head of the family. Besides political interests, attempts to solve political conflicts, and the use of bride-heirs as a tool of dynastic expansion or to gain a strong ally,21 the appearance of the prospective bride also played an important role in the selection. The first records of painting the portraits of potential wives come from 13th-century Western Europe.22 Caution was needed, however, and candidates for a potential bride’s 19 20

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22

Zeilinger, Die Uracher Hochzeit 1474, p. 75, on the contrary, high-quality wine was reserved for guests at the wedding table in Urach. Jörg Rogge, “Nur vekaufte Töchter? Überlegungen zu Aufgaben, Quellen, Methoden und Perspektiven einer Sozial– und Kulturgeschichte hochadeliger Frauen und Fürstinen im deutschen Reich während des späten Mittelalters und am Beginn der Neuzeit,” in Principes. Dynastien und Höfe im späten Mittelalter, eds. Cordula Nolte, Karl-Heinz Spieß and Ralf-Gunnar Werlich (Stuttgart: Jan Thorbecke, 2002), pp. 235–76. Karl-Heinz Spieß, “Europa heiratet. Kommunikation und Kulturtransfer im Kontext europäischer Königsheiraten des Spätmittelalters,” in Europa im späten Mittelater. Politik – Gesellschaft – Kultur (Historische Zeitschrift, Beihefte 40) (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2006), pp. 435–64. Karl-Heinz Spieß, “Fremdheit und Integration der ausländischen Ehefrau und ihres Gefolges bei internationalen Fürstenheiraten,” in Fürstenhöfe und ihre Außenwelt. Aspekte

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hand would send their own painter to avoid being duped by a false image. In exceptional cases, the painters were tasked with depicting the most intimate and erotic parts of a woman’s body: her exposed breasts.23 For prospective grooms, the best-case was whether they could choose from among several princesses. The age of the brides played no role, nor was there an effort to marry off the oldest royal or ducal daughter before the others. This is demonstrated by how King Charles I of Hungary (who stripped Wenceslas III of power in the kingdom) behaved in 1318 when he sent two Hungarian counts to Prague, with a translator as noted by the Zbraslav chronicler, to request that John give him one of his sisters as a wife.24 As both women were in Luxembourg at the time, John made them come to Bohemia so the representatives of the Hungarian king could meet them in person. This took place at Zbraslav monastery, where John had the Hungarians freely choose which girl (both were still minors under the age of 14 at the time) they would like their king to marry. The Hungarian messengers quietly discussed amongst themselves, considering the girls’ beauty, builds, and gaits. In the end, they requested John give the younger Beatrice in marriage, who was immediately betrothed to the Hungarian king in absentia. The betrothal was thus per procurationem, which had started to become the norm at the time, and which was to become almost the rule when concluding a royal marriage in subsequent centuries.25 The Zbraslav betrothal was accompanied by a double ringing of the bells and the singing of Tebe, Bože, chválíme (We Praise You God) by a choir of monks. The symbolic consummation of the marriage of the future Hungarian queen with one of the Hungarian nobles representing the king most probably did not take place, or at least the chronicler does not mention it. After several days, Beatrix was sent in the company of Bohemian and Moravian lords to the Moravian border with the Hungarian Kingdom, and there she was presented to the embassy sent by her future husband. In the case of Elisabeth of Bohemia, who took part in the Hungarian selection as Czech queen, played by the community of the estates, or more precisely its representatives that stood in opposition to King Henry of Bohemia, played a deciding role in the selection of her husband. The question of whether the

23 24 25

gesellschaftlicher und kultureller Identität im deutschen Spätmittelalter, ed. Thomas Zotz (Würzburg: Ergon, 2004), p. 271. Karl-Heinz Spieß, “Unterwegs zu einem fremden Ehemann. Brautfart und Ehe in europäischen Fürstenhäusern des Spätmittelalters,” in Fremdheit und Reisen im Mittelalter, eds. Irene Erfen and Karl–Heinz Spieß (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1997), p. 24. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 249. Evidence of marriages per procurationem dates back to 13th century, cf. Edgar Blum, “Le marriage par procuration dans l’ancien droit,” Nouvelle revue historique du droit français et étranger 41 (1917), pp. 383–402; Spieß, “Unterwegs zu einem fremden Ehemann,” p. 25.

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initiative to appeal to the Holy Roman Emperor Henry VII came from the Zbraslav Abbot Konrad or from Czech nobles is not important. What is significant is that Abbot Konrad travelled to Heilbronn to negotiate with the king about the Czech throne and to offer him Elisabeth’s hand as the heir to the kingdom. The complicated negotiations were interrupted for a time by Henry’s Roman coronation campaign, but the Czech lords refused to deviate from their chosen course. According to Peter of Zittau, the question of whether Henry’s brother Walram or his son John should become the next King of Bohemia and Elisabeth’s husband originated in Prague. In the end, the majority favoured John because, as a young man, he would “easily learn the traditions of our country,” according to the chronicler.26 If there is a grain of truth to this story, then the Czech nobles used the same reasoning as kings when seeking wives for their sons. They too wanted the bride to be as young as possible in order to learn the norms and traditions of the territory she would inhabit. Sometimes this was a culture similar to her own, but other times she would be cast into a foreign world without prior knowledge of the local customs and language.27 Even during the wedding ceremony and subsequent celebration, the bride was dependent on a translator if she did not speak Latin, and she often had little idea what was going on around her. On the other hand, most girls were prepared to leave the family home from an early age and taught to be loyal to their parent’s wishes, with no room for independent decision making. The social practice of parents choosing the fate of their children was so widespread that only exceptional girls were able to stand up to it.28 If truth be told, the fate of girls was not very different from that of men. Juvenile princes living at their father’s court also could not freely select a bride or reject the next queen or duchess chosen by their fathers. However, there are cases of girls resisting the wishes of their fathers or brothers. From the Czech environment, the most famous case of rejecting the dynasty’s will comes from Agnes, the daughter of Ottokar I of Bohemia.29 According to legends, Agnes stymied all her father’s and later her brother’s efforts to use her in the spirit of contemporary matrimonial politics. The author of her oldest legend, who was most probably a mendicant, used her reluctance to marry to the extent that he 26 27 28

29

Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 134. For further examples see Spieß, “Fremdheit und Integration,” pp. 268–9, 277–8. With examples Ilona Fendrich, “Die Beziehung von Fürstin und Fürst: zum hochadeligen Ehealltag im 15. Jahrhundert,” in Fürstin und Fürst. Familienbeziehungen und Handlungs­ möglichkeiten von hochadeligen Frauen im Mittelalter (Ostfildern: Jan Thorbecke, 2004), pp. 98–100. Generally on the topic, see Christian–Frederik Felskau, Agnes von Böhmen und die Klosteranlage der Klarissen und Franziskaner in Prag. Leben und Institution, Legende und Verehrung (Nordhausen: Verlag Traugott Bautz, 2008).

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fictitiously included Emperor Frederick II among her suitors in order to show that even the head of Christendom had to bow to her piety. In this respect, Agnes’s story is similar to that of Saint Margaret of Hungary, who according to legend Frederick II also wished to marry. Ottokar II of Bohemia then joined him in the “marriage market,” refusing to recognize Margaret’s sanctity and attempted to pressure her parents into a marriage despite her having sworn an oath of purity while a child. He had also allegedly married a nun and nothing bad happened to him.30 However, Margaret, just like Agnes, refused to give in to pressure from her relatives. She spurned any effort to see her married off, led by the examples of her saintly predecessors, especially King Emeric, who allegedly honoured a heavenly order to remain in a virginal relationship with his wife.31 John of Luxembourg also had experience with his will being rejected when he attempted to gain his former rival Henry of Bohemia to his side in the 1320s. His sister Marie stood up to his plans in 1321, as did his niece Beatrix three years later. Beatrix’s rejection came at the last minute, as costly new platforms had been built for the celebration at the Wilten abbey in Carinthia where the wedding was set to take place.32 The Zbraslav chronicler does not tell us whether Elisabeth of Bohemia was able to select her husband from between the Luxembourgers John and Walram. As an 18-year-old woman, she faced a difficult choice. She would have to stand up to her own sister Anne together with the legitimate king. She could choose a 14-year-old boy, or a seasoned warrior. She knew neither personally, although she could have learned something from the Abbot of Zbraslav. In any case, the final decision lay with King Henry. Unfortunately, all reports about the talks between the 12-member Czech embassy to the Holy Roman Emperor in Frankfurt in 1310 come from the quill of the Zbraslav chronicler, who did not take part in the negotiations himself and was dependent on the retelling of his abbot. According to his claims, the Holy Roman Emperor favoured his brother Walram to become Elisabeth’s husband. However, he encountered strong resistance from the Czech side, which had various causes. The Czech representatives, on the one hand, desired a king they could form to their own image, while at the same time they were conscious of the fact the son of the Holy Roman Emperor will have greater authority then “just” his brother.33 They 30 31 32 33

Scriptores Rerum Hungaricarum, vol. II (Budapest: Societate Histor. Hungarica, 1938), p. 691. Scriptores Rerum Hungaricarum vol. II, p. 689. Veldtrup, “Ehen aus Staaatsräson,” pp. 518–9; Josef Riedmann, “Adelige Sachkultur Tirols in der Zeit von 1290 bis 1330,” in Adelige Sachkultur des Spätmittelalters (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1982), p. 117. On the background of the meeting, see Jiří Spěváček, Jan Lucemburský a jeho doba (1296– 1346) (Prague: Svoboda, 1994), pp. 124–34.

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were aware that the age difference between John and Elisabeth could pose a certain obstacle. However, Zbraslav Abbot Konrad said the four years between the couple would disappear within two years that no one would recognize that John is the younger of the two. In the end, the Czech representatives were able to convince the Holy Roman Emperor to select his son John as the Czech princess’ husband: “On the fifteenth day after our arrival in Frankfurt, in front of archbishops, bishops, abbots, dukes, counts, and numerous other nobles, he promised and spoke these words: ‘John, my first born, will marry the Princess Elisabeth as lawful wife.’ The messengers then pledged the same for the girl. Thus the joyous betrothal was agreed to and privileges and documents were officially confirmed. The king also determined the place and time of the wedding, and limited it with the following conditions, saying: ‘We will set the final date to celebrate the wedding of our son and daughter and we certainly do not want it changed. We thus set and order the girl betrothed to our son to arrive in the Imperial city of Speyer from this day, July 25 until September 1. If she is not brought to the determined place in this period, we declare from that point forward all the agreed upon betrothals to be void, as we are confronted by very important imperial matters and we cannot allow for a longer period of time.’”34 There was no need for a papal dispensation as was the case with most royal weddings of the time as the Luxembourgs and the Přemyslids were not related in any way. The only obstacle thus was the bride actually arriving for the wedding. 2

Marriages of Minors

According to canon law, there were two milestones that influenced eligibility to marry, the first of which was reaching the age of seven. Marriages completed before the age of seven were legally void because children of that age could not independently express their will and thus mutually exchange the sacrament of marriage. Canon law differentiates between infantes (children under the age of seven) and impuberes (children over the age of seven). In practice, however, children less than seven years old were betrothed, but all these cases demanded the children confirm their betrothal once they reached the canon-defined age of eligibility. Children over the age of seven, who were seen 34

Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 140. In the following text, Petr Žitavský places words into Henry’s mouth whereby the Roman ruler talks about his son and Elisabeth as being engaged: “Elisabeth enim, domina vestra, nunc filia mea est; Johannes, inquit, primogenitus meus, nunc sponsus, gaudebit super sponsam et gaudebunt de me filius et filia, et delectabor in eip. Ite, adducite eam pocius ad me, ut possim lecius vivere.”

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as legally understanding the meaning of the institution, could be married, but not per verba de presenti, but only per verba de futuro. The consummation of this future-facing vow that had an indisputable character for the validity of the union could only take place once the children were fit for it, which was considered to be the age of 14 for boys and 12 for girls.35 In the late Middle Ages, marriage contracts were even concluded between children that were yet to be born. Although their validity in the eyes of canon law was zero, aristocrats tried to guarantee their fulfilment with various obligations and even monetary penalties. Charles IV in fact obligated himself to an unusually exorbitant fine in 1368 when he promised to marry his daughter to the son of Nuremburg Burgrave Frederick Hohenzollern if both were to have such children within the next five years. The fine or failure to uphold the agreement was set at an astronomical 100,000 gold pieces, which could have been a result of the agreement also relating to the Emperor’s promise to marry his first-born son Sigismund to Frederick’s 3-year-old daughter Catherine.36 The betrothal of small children and even those yet unborn is documented in both the Přemyslid and Luxembourger royal dynasties. The practice, widespread only from the 14th century onward, clearly testifies to the betrothal of children under the age of seven to be a solely political move that was rarely fulfilled as Dieter Veldtrup showed. Sometimes the pope did not consent to issuing the necessary dispensation, while other times the contracts were simply cancelled without erupting into a more serious conflict. We even know of cases from a century before when a royal family vehemently tried to conclude a juvenile betrothal to further its aspirations for power. In the Czech environment, the greatest reaction was caused by the denial of Henry VII, son of Emperor Frederick II, from consummating a marriage to Agnes, the daughter of Ottokar I of Bohemia;37 and the unmasked resistance of Ottokar II to the marriage of his daughter Kunigunde to Hartmann of Germany, son of Rudolph I of Germany. Ottokar II’s violation of the betrothal of his daughter and son to the children of Rudolph I of Germany38 was understood by some contemporary observers 35 36

37 38

Cf. Veldtrup, Zwischen Eherecht und Familienpolitik, pp. 23–4, 76–82. Codex iuris Bohemici, vol. II/1, ed. Hermenegild Jireček (Prague: Královská česká společnost nauk, 1896), p. 559, no. 593; Regesta Imperii, vol. VIII. Die Regesten des Kaiserreichs unter Kaiser Karl IV. 1346–1378, ed. Alfons Huber (Innsbruck: Universitäts Buchdruckerei, 1877), no. 4612–4614; Veldtrup, Zwischen Eherecht und Familienpolitik, p. 398. Václav Novotný, Čechy královské za Přemysla I. a Václava I., (České dějiny, I/3) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1928), pp. 560–6, 646–9. First contract dated November 21, 1276 was published in CDB, vol. V/2, eds. Jindřich Šebánek and Sáša Dušková (Prague: Československá akademie věd, 1981), pp. 518–21, no. 822. The new, modified contract dated May 6, 1277, where Judith’s dowry was reduced and

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to be the cause of a new escalation of the conflict that eventually led to the downfall of Ottokar II.39 In any case, the King of Bohemia resisted fulfilling the agreement that he was forced to sign by the Holy Roman Emperor and delayed the symbolic confirmation of the juvenile marriages in order to keep his hands free in further political posturing. The good timing of marriage contracts could play a significant role at a certain point in time regardless that future new coalitions and marriages could weaken the original potential of certain couplings or even erase it entirely. Rudolph I of Germany, just like Charles IV, was a master of marital politics.40 The advantageous pairings of his children paved his road to the Roman throne and served to eliminate Ottokar II, who in the 1270s simply lacked the children to match Rudolph’s expansion on the marriage market. The political ambitions that were to be fulfilled in his Roman coronation and the Roman crown for one of his children were not abandoned even after 1278 when Rudolph presented a grandiose project, the foundation of which was an alliance of the houses of Habsburg and Anjou previously initiated by Pope Gregory X. This project included the next wife of Wenceslas II, who was originally slated to marry Charles I of Anjou. Rudolph also opened a parallel track to his Anjou project that was supported by the pope, which was a proposed marriage alliance between Rudolph I and Edward I of England that included Kunigunde’s potential husband Hartmann.41 After all these projects failed, Rudolph put considerable energy into influencing the Kingdom of Bohemia through marriages agreed upon before the Battle on the Marchsfeld. At the time of their betrothal in 1277, neither Judith of Habsburg nor Wenceslas were eligible to be married according to canon law, both per verba de presenti and de futuro. But according to the colourful testimony of Ottokar of Styria,42 who claimed to have been present at the wedding, Rudolph arrived together with Wenceslas in Jihlava where the wedding was set to take place in November. The Holy Roman Emperor then sent for his daughter, who was

39 40 41 42

which removes the passage about the marriage of Rudolph’s son Hartmann to Ottokar’s daughter Kunigunde, can also be found in CDB, vol. V/2, pp. 541–6, no. 836. As in Příběhy Přemysla Otakara II., ed. Josef Emler, frb II (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1874), p. 329. Karl-Friedrich Krieger, Rudolf von Habsburg (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesell­ schaft, 2003). For more detail, see Ruth Köhler, Die Heiratsverhandlungen zwischen Eduard I. von England und Rudolf von Habsburg. Ein Beitrag zur englisch–deutschen Bündnispolitik am Ausgang des 13. Jahrhunderts (Meisenheim: A. Hain, 1969). Chronicle editor Ottokars Österreichische Reimchronik, (ed.) Joseph Semmüller, mgh Deutsche Chroniken 5/1, pp. XCV–CVI, noticed the Styrian chronicler liked to imitate the chivalric epics by Wolfram of Eschenbach, where the exquisite and refined description of a wedding celebration played an important role.

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in Vienna.43 Judith arrived with her ladies-in-waiting decorated in sumptuous jewels that rivalled those worn by Queen Kunigunde, the beauty of which were described by the chronicler in detail. The wedding ceremony began with a morning mass where the betrothed received the blessing of Henry, Bishop of Basel.44 After that, a feast was held followed by a tournament where the Holy Roman Emperor ordered alternate seating of men and women to increase the merriment. Rudolph himself thus allegedly sat next to Kunigunde and began to express his love for her in the courtly manner. In contrast, Ottokar describes Judith and Wenceslas behaving like children: Judith described how she plays with dolls and Wenceslas talking about the sparrowhawk he hunts with. A symbolic consummation of the marriage allegedly took place at the end of the wedding day, which was supposed to complete the lay character of the union in the eyes of the courtiers. Wenceslas and Judith were laid down in a marriage bed in a room in one of the city’s houses. Whether they remained there until morning as Ottokar claims in unknown. It is not likely, however, as minors were only laid down side-by-side during symbolic consummations of the weddings of juveniles, with physical contact coming in the form touching hands or feet. Sometimes it was enough for them to be covered by the same duvet in their marriage bed,45 which could have been consecrated by the church as well.46 Symbolic consummation was also used in case of per procurationem marriages where the representative of the groom was laid down with the actual bride. An unsheathed sword was placed between the husband’s representative and the bride as was the case in the marriage of Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I and Anne of Brittany in Rennes in 1490, to ensure the bride was not defiled in any way.47 Contrary to Ottokar of Styria, the Zbraslav chronicle only mentions the wedding indirectly with the statement that neither Judith nor Wenceslas were 43

44 45

46 47

Oswald Redlich, Rudolf von Habsburg. Das Deutsche Reich nach dem Untergange des alten Kaisertums (Innsbruck: Wagner, 1903), pp. 332–333, tried to explain the discrepancy between the dating and localization of the wedding by Ottokar of Styria to Jihlava in November 1278, while the Salzburg annals place it to Čáslav in January 1279. The latest dating of the wedding is by Libor Jan, Vznik zemského soudu a správa středověké Moravy (Brno: Matice moravská, 2000), pp. 220–1, who sided with Ottokar of Styria’s report and deftly refuted the possibility of a Čáslav wedding. Ottokars Österreichische Reimchronik, mgh Deutsche Chroniken 5/1, pp. 237–40. Jörg Wettlauger, “Beilager und Bettleite im Ostseeraum (13. bis 19. Jahrhundert). Eine vergleichende Studie zur Wandlung des Eheschließungsrechts im Spätmittelalter und in der frühen Neuzeit,” in Tisch und Bett. Die Hochzeit im Ostseeraum seit dem 13. Jahrhundert, ed. Thomas Riis (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1998), pp. 90–2. Wettlauger, “Beilager und Bettleite,” p. 98. Wettlauger, “Beilager und Bettleite,” p. 105.

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eligible for marriage at the time of their betrothal because of their young age, and they continued to live with their parents afterwards.48 According to this account, the betrothal was consummated only in 1285 in the imperial city of Cheb when both reached the age of 14. The wedding in Cheb and the one in Speyer were associated with the presentation of a fief to the new King of Bohemia. It is noteworthy that the Zbraslav chronicle does not mention any church service that took place in Cheb, nor does it mention the confirmation of marriage vows. It only reports about the physical consummation that took place during the night from the 25th to the 26th of January. This “usual contact” completed “the wedding celebration agreed to long ago.” What was promised years before was thus concluded by “a completely regular marriage.” The next day, a celebratory mass was performed in the Franciscan church in Cheb. The Zbraslav chronicle, however, does not tell us whether the couple received a ceremonial blessing or whether the bride was blessed after the wedding night as was sometimes the tradition.49 Regardless, it appears that for this author, only the wedding in Cheb was valid and not the wedding in Jihlava, mostly because of the physical consummation that established the marriage between the minors. John of Luxembourg followed in Rudolph I of Germany’s footsteps when he had a symbolic consummation performed in 1330 for an earlier juvenile betrothal in an effort to avoid a marriage alliance from falling apart. He had his son John Henry laid next to, i.e. join in marriage with (copulari matri­ monialiter)50 Margaret, the daughter of former Henry of Bohemia.51 This took place at the moment John Henry reached the age of seven (the betrothal of the children took place two years earlier in Wilten abbey). In this case, the symbolic consummation missed its mark as the marriage was annulled in the end, against the wishes of John Henry as we will see below. The importance of consummation can also be seen in the case of the Austrian Duke William and Polish Princess Hedwig. Her father, the Hungarian and King of Poland King Louis I completed the marriage contract with the Austrian Duke Leopold III in 1378. However, four-year old Hedwig was not yet eligible for marriage, contrary to the status of eight-year-old William. The marriage was thus to be confirmed and consummated in the future. However, this never took place once a conflict over the Polish and Hungarian thrones erupted after Louis’s death. Both the princess’s grandmother and the Polish nobility 48 49 50 51

Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 25. For later period cf. Antonín Podlaha, “Nejstarší rituál pražský,” Časopis katolického ducho­ venstva 42 (1901), p. 446. Here is also “benedictio sponsi et sponsae,” p. 445. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 306. Veldtrup, “Ehen aus Staatsräson,” pp. 522–3.

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started to seek a new husband for Hedwig in the person of the Lithuanian Grand Duke Jogaila. William refused to satisfy himself with the situation and Austrian and monastic propaganda soon presented the claim that William and Hedwig consummated their marriage and thus the Polish princess committed bigamy by marrying Jogaila.52 The Polish chronicler Jan Długosz then added a new story to the legend that was told throughout Europe: William had travelled to Cracow and met with Hedwig, who allegedly was inclined to marry him. They were able to escape to the Franciscan abbey and there consummated the marriage initiated when they were children.53 Whether the stories of the Austrian chroniclers or Długosz’s elaborate tale designed to improve the image of the jilted Austrian duke were true or not, one thing is clear: William was unable to establish his rights and his wedding to Hedwig as a child was never considered legally valid. Thus, nothing prevented the Polish princess from marrying again, which fundamentally influenced the future of Poland for centuries to come. (figure 2.2)

Figure 2.2 The marriage of Henry I the Bearded and Saint Hedwig of Silesia from Codex Ostroviensis 52 53

Jarosław Nikodem, Jadwiga król Polski (Wrocław: Zakład Narodowy imienia Ossolińskich, 2009), pp. 122–56. Jana Długosza Roczniky czyli Kroniki sławnego królestwa polskiego, vol. 10. 1370–1405, ed. Zbigniew Perzanowski (Warsaw: Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1981), pp. 197–8, 203.

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The Journey to Meet the Bride/Groom

Let us return to the marriage of Elisabeth of Bohemia. The time and place of Elisabeth’s arrival were set by Holy Roman Emperor Henry VII at the Frankfurt diet. Now it was up to representatives of the Czech nobility to accompany the bride to her groom. Only part of her original embassy returned to the Czech lands as the Cistercian abbots, who probably feared the reaction of Henry of Bohemia, remained in the Empire and eagerly awaited reports from home. Everything was now in the hands of the husband of Elisabeth’s sister Anna, whose position in the Czech Kingdom was uncertain. However, according to the Zbraslav chronicler he did not object to the Czech nobility’s talks with the Holy Roman Emperor and was just as indifferent to the embassy members that returned to Prague and began to assemble Elisabeth’s trousseau. Under normal circumstances, the princess’s family would provide the trousseau, usually a very opulent one that was to demonstrate outwardly the family’s wealth and prestige. This usually included jewels, valuable clothing, silverware, or expensive furniture. In the case of Antonia Visconti, who was to become the wife of Eberhard, Count of Württemberg, her trousseau was recorded in a special book with 98 paper sheets.54 A great emphasis was placed on the bride’s carriage, which was layered in gold and pulled by horses covered with golden blankets.55 In other cases, the horses and the bride’s entire accompaniment was dressed in the colours of the family or the bride’s territory, which was both for identification, but also as an expression of ducal or royal self-identity. The procession itself was usually made up of several dozen horses, a number that could even end up in the thousands. The costs for the procession were paid by the bride’s father or family up to the meeting with the groom or his representatives. After merging with the groom’s embassy, the costs were usually transferred to the future husband, even though host cities also contributed as was the case when Anne of Foix stayed in Venice on her way to Vladislaus II in Hungary.56 In the 15th century, it was considered good manners for a member of the bride’s family to be part of her party, chiefly her father or brother,57 who as the most important member of the family was to provide his glory to the wedding ceremony itself. That is why the absence of the King of Bohemia Vladislaus II at the wedding in Landshut between Hedwig, the daughter of 54 55 56 57

Spieß, “Unterwegs zu einem fremden Ehemann,” p. 26. For examples see Spieß, “Unterwegs zu einem fremden Ehemann,” p. 27. Josef Macek, Jagellonský věk v českých zemích (1471–1526), vol. 1. Hospodářská základna a královská moc (Prague: Academia, 1992), p. 215; Josef Macek, Tři ženy krále Vladislava (Prague: Mladá fronta, 1991), pp. 145–57. Spieß, “Fremdheit und Integration,” p. 274.

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King of Poland Casimir IV, and George, son of Louis IX, Duke of Bavaria, was so negatively received by public opinion. He did not attend despite requests from Emperor Frederick III, who wanted to present him with the royal insignia and give him Bohemia in fief. Even the King of Poland Casimir allegedly sent his son Vladislaus the necessary funds to attend his sister’s wedding with the corresponding pomp. The fact that he did not attend in the end caused extensive grief, and in the case of the emperor great disgruntlement, not speaking of the various rumours and general humiliation. The negative prophecy that was behind Vladislaus’s refusal to attend, as recorded by a Polish chronicler, was of no help to his situation.58 In the case of Elisabeth of Bohemia, the participation of her family at the planned wedding was not possible, and there were even problems with her trousseau. The princess did not have her own resources, so she was dependent on Czech nobles and burghers that supported her marriage to the son of the Holy Roman Emperor. According to the Zbraslav chronicler, the messengers took out a loan with Prague’s merchants and used the borrowed money, which was more than 1,000 grzywna, to compile a truly exceptional trousseau. “And with the favour of fate, this girl was prepared for her departure six days after the return of the messengers, along with a large party and with the proper glory.”59 Everything thus took place quickly as the procession left Prague the next day, August 14. Peter of Zittau recorded the stories that were told in Bohemia at the time about the departure of the Czech princess. Supporters of Henry of Bohemia allegedly spread the news that the Holy Roman Emperor would not give Elisabeth to his brother, much less his only son, and will grant her to some non-noble man. Elisabeth’s departure could also be seen as a certain relief as her enemies believed this an elegant way of getting rid of her.60 Whether the chronicler’s observations were based on evidence or whether these are his fictions that were designed to demean the legitimately elected and accepted king, one thing is clear: Elisabeth’s opponents overplayed their hand and gave the Holy Roman Emperor a trump card he could play in the fight for the Czech crown. Messengers were sent during the trip to Speyer to inform the Cistercian abbots and possibly even the Holy Roman Emperor about the timing of the arrival. The abbots that were staying in Ebrach near Bamberg in the fall of 1310 learned from servant William of Plasy that the princess had arrived in Nuremberg a few days beforehand.61 The Czech embassy was made complete when they encountered her later and embarked on the rest of their journey. 58 59 60 61

Jana Długosza Roczniky czyli Kroniki sławnego królestwa polskiego, vol. 12, ed. Jerzy Wyrozumski (Warsaw: Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 2006), p. 383. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 141. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 142. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 143.

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The meeting with representatives of the Holy Roman Emperor took place, probably according to previous arrangements, in Sinsheim near Heidelberg. The royal embassy was led by Henry’s brother Walram, who Elisabeth was originally supposed to marry. From here, the entire procession left for Speyer. A ceremonial welcome of the bride probably did not take place despite the Zbraslav chronicler recording that many people ran out to meet her. The emperor and his son were staying at the nearby Abbey in Heimbach. Contrary to other princesses, Elisabeth did not have to wait long for her betrothed. It did happen that despite the agreed time and place, the ceremonial meeting of the couple changed so many times that the wedding celebration would be postponed by up to several weeks. For example, Isabella of England waited six weeks in Cologne for Emperor Frederick II,62 and the wealthy bride Maria Bianca Sforza impatiently waited for ten weeks in Innsbruck for the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I63 Henry VII had no reason to delay his son’s arrival in Heimbach, although he was probably unpleasantly surprised as Henry of Bohemia captured Kuttenberg, the treasury of the Kingdom of Bohemia. On August 25, Elisabeth received a welcome in Heimbach worthy of the future wife of the Holy Roman Emperor’s son. The procession of an uncountable number of knights was accompanied by musicians playing harps, drums, and horns. The meeting of the couple took place in the abbey’s expansive dining room. Elisabeth wore an embroidered gown decorated with gold. We do not know if the Holy Roman Emperor kissed Elisabeth to welcome her as was the tradition in other cases. The Zbraslav chronicler only notes that he took Elisabeth’s hand in his right and his son’s with his left, and publicly expressed his will to join the two in marriage. In order to separate outwardly the male and female spheres of life, Elisabeth was later received by the Queen of the Romans who kissed her as a gesture of welcome. An opulent feast with gold-layered tableware was prepared in the abbey dining room decorated with silk hangings. Empress Margret sat on one side of Elisabeth and Henry’s mother Beatrix was on the other. After the feast, Elisabeth was introduced to her new courtiers. It is not known whether her accompaniment included Czech ladies-in-waiting64 as was the norm elsewhere, but it does not seem probable as we do not hear about a personal translator or chaplain either. The assignment of her own entourage meant Elisabeth entered her husband’s court, which now carefully watched over her behaviour 62 63 64

Spieß, “Unterwegs,” p. 30. Hermann Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I. Das Reich, Österreich und Europa an der Wende zur Neuzeit, vol. I (Vienna/Munich: Oldenbourg, 1971), p. 367. On the role of female household see Werner Paravicini, “Das Frauenzimmer. Die Frau bei Hofe im Spätmittelater und Früher Neuzeit,” in Das Frauenzimmer. Die Frau bei Hofe im Spätmittelater und Früher Neuzeit, eds. Jan Hirschbiegel and Werner Paravicini (Stuttgart: Jan Thorbecke, 2000), pp. 13–25. In the same volume cf. especially Brigitte Streich, “Frauenhof und Frauenzimmer,” pp. 247–61.

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and decided the way the wedding would take place. The welcome of a bride oftentimes symbolised the arrival of new life as seen in the story of Roger of Wendover, who testified that Isabella of England was welcomed with flowers and palm branches upon arrival in Cologne in 1235.65 The welcome could even take forms known from modern times. Upon arrival in Friburg, Eleanor of Scotland, wife of Archduke Sigismund, passed through a lane lined with 3,000 ceremonially dressed children with paper flags in Austrian colours.66 4

The Wedding Ritual

Intensive preparations for the wedding itself began with Elisabeth’s welcome in Heimbach. We do not know when the invitations to guests were sent out, but the five days of celebrations during which the royal court remained in Heimbach were probably not enough. It is possible Henry VII sent out general invitations beforehand, when he learned the Czech embassy had departed Prague and Nuremburg. We know that in the later Middle Ages invitations to weddings became an almost bureaucratic matter: detailed lists were created, oftentimes months in advance. The invited were to reply, mentioning the company that would arrive with them in order to prepare accommodations.67 The invitations oftentimes specified the colour of clothing68 the wedding was to use and even the most appropriate gifts for the newlyweds. During the preparations of large weddings in the imperial environment of the second half of the 15th century, honoured guests were asked to bring their own cooks and footmen as there could never be enough experienced kitchen staff.69 The decorations of city or castle palaces was usually grandiose for the most important weddings. New wooden constructions had to be built, while sometimes city buildings had to be interconnected in order to create larger spaces to host feasts and banquets. During the wedding of Wenceslas II to Elisabeth Richeza of Poland during Pentecost in 1303, the king had a gallery built out of cut and hewn logs between the churches of St. Vitus and St. George, decorated with hangings of various colours including gold and silver, as well as a large podium where the feast itself was to take place.70 65 66 67 68 69 70

Spieß, “Unterwegs zu einem fremden Ehemann,” p. 29. Ferdinand Rüegg, “Hohe Gäste in Freiburg im Üchtland vor dessen Beitritt zur Eidgenossenschaft,” Freiburger Geschichtsblätter 15 (1908), p. 25. Cf. Hiereth, Herzog Georgs Hochzeit, pp. 20–30; G. Zeilinger, Die Uracher Hochzeit 1474, p. 33–8. Spieß, “Unterwegs zu einem fremden Ehemann,” p. 30. Zeilinger, Die Uracher Hochzeit 1474, p. 37. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 87.

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In the 15th-century imperial environment, two spaces had to be prepared as male and female guests were separated during celebrations. Information about, similarly sized, the Speyer wedding is very fragmented, and the Zbraslav chronicler only mentions that tables, chairs, and stools described as “work so artful and sublime that is was appropriate for royal standing and rank,” were set on the side of the Speyer cathedral. As we know, similar preparations were made in Prague during the second wedding of Wenceslas II, but the Zbraslav chronicler noted that decorations in Speyer were more lavish. Even the walls of buildings were decorated with exceptional cloths during the ceremonial entrance of the Holy Roman Emperor, his son, and his bride into the city on August 31, along with a large number of dukes and magnates. A feast followed the welcome in Speyer, which was provided for by Queen Beatrix and Elisabeth of Bohemia together to outwardly demonstrate her acceptance into the house of Luxembourg. All the feasts that we know of as associated with the Speyer wedding were attended by both male and female guests. The future emperor strove to introduce traditions that dominated the French and Burgundian courts for centuries afterwards into the imperial environment. As we already know, these efforts were for naught and segregated feasts later returned to ducal courts.71 Many brides that came from lands with different ceremonial traditions were disgruntled by this practice. They also found it difficult to adjust to the oftentimes strictly separated worlds of men and women as practiced at Habsburg courts that became part of their marital lives.72 The program in Speyer was packed on that last day of August. The wedding vows themselves were preceded by the Kingdom of Bohemia being given in fief to Henry’s son John. By granting the fief before the marriage was completed,73 Henry wanted to make clear he formally did not recognize Elisabeth’s hereditary rights to the Kingdom of Bohemia and that the marriage of his son to her had a purely symbolic character; that John is the new King of Bohemia solely on the basis of sovereign royal decision. The granting of the fief in this case was also an opulent ceremony. The Holy Roman Emperor sat on a throne in front of the main doors to the Speyer cathedral. John rode to him on horseback, accompanied on either side by dozens of knights that carried red banners with a white lion in the middle. The next King of Bohemia dismounted before his

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Spieß, “Fremdheit und Integration,” pp. 280–81; Spieß, “Höfische Feste” p. 347. Compare the strict division of the male and female worlds at the late medieval Habsburgs court in Spieß, “Fremdheit und Integration,” p. 280; Jaroslava Hausenblasová, “Soukromí jako obřad. Rituály a ceremonie na dvoře Anny Jagellonské,” in Rituály, ceremonie a fes­ tivity ve střední Evropě 14. a 15. století, eds. Martin Nodl and František Šmahel (Prague: Filosofia, 2009), pp. 97–108. Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, ed. Josef Emler, frb IV (Prague, 1884), p. 467.

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father, falling to his knees to swear fealty. His father then presented him with the royal sceptre and kissed him. The second climax of the day was the ceremonial betrothal of John and Elisabeth. According to the Zbraslav chronicler, this took place in the evening, but not in the Speyer cathedral or in front of its doors, but in the royal palace where the entire court gathered after the granting of the fief. In this respect, the abandonment of the sacred space could demonstrate the lay character of the exchange of the wedding vows, which had a long tradition in the imperial environment. On the other hand, the fact that the Cologne Archbishop John officiated the ceremony demonstrated the marriage would take place in facie ecclesiae.74 Unfortunately, we do not know what ritual or the words the archbishop used for the wedding. Nevertheless, it is more significant that this act concluded the wedding celebration on August 30, and the benediction of the valid marriage only took place the next day. It is also noteworthy that the Zbraslav chronicler could not say whether the bride slept without her husband that night or whether she shared her marriage bed with him.75 The first day of September began in Speyer with a ritual waking. Around 8 in the morning, Elisabeth was led from her bedroom with the wife and mother of the Holy Roman Emperor on either side of her as had been the case during the welcome feast in Heimbach. The fact that Elisabeth belonged to the house of Luxembourg was to be clear by her wedding clothes.76 Her hair was let down past her shoulders and the gown was not decorated in accordance to French fashions. Our reporter Peter of Zittau expressed surprise that the bride’s head was left bare without a crown or wreath. This small note could testify to Elisabeth not being considered a virgin after her wedding night and thus not wearing a wreath. On the other hand, our only testimony of the acts that follow speaks only about benediction, about blessing the marriage, and not blessing the bride after her wedding night as we know from the Czech and especially the Polish environments of the 14th and 15th centuries.77 And as the chronicler mentions the laying of the newlyweds only at the end of the description of the next day’s celebration, it appears probable that the lack of a wreath was either a purely French tradition, or a symbolic expression that the 74 75 76 77

Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 150. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 150: “Nova sponsa forsitan nocte illa sine sponso iacuit, sicque illa dies se tota in gaudio consumavit.” For the acceptance of the groom’s colours and changing into new clothes, see Spieß, “Fremdheit und Integration,” p. 278. Monika Saczyńska, “Rytuały kościelne związane z małżeństwem w Polsce póżnego średniowiecza (na podstawie pontyfikalów krakowskich z XV wieku),” in Manželství v pozd­ ním středověku: rituály a obyčeje, eds. Paweł Kras and Martin Nodl (Prague: Filosofia, 2014), pp. 63–76.

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girl is already a married woman regardless of whether she was still a virgin or not. From the princess’s room, the procession went to the Speyer cathedral. At this point, the bride was not accompanied by any member of her own family, but by her father-in-law, the Holy Roman Emperor Henry VII. This was slightly unusual, but the context of the wedding probably demanded it. Henry presented Elisabeth to his son only in front of the main altar. He was probably awaiting them there, though it cannot be ruled out he arrived after the bride.78 The mass was celebrated by the Mainz Archbishop Peter of Aspelt. After reading the Gospels, John and Elisabeth kneeled and accepted the archbishop’s blessing. This ritual also surprised Peter of Zittau. He did not omit to emphasise that “betrothed in Bohemia never accept such a blessing.”79 The newlyweds then approached the altar and “brought Jehova the appropriate offering.” It is unknown what gifts the couple left in the church, just as we do not know in which part of the ceremony they exchanged their rings, whether the rings had been specially blessed, nor whether John and Elisabeth kissed during the betrothal or blessing as traditions varied greatly in this respect. (figure 2.3)

Figure 2.3 Woodcut – Bigamy

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Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 150. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 150.

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Pontificals, whose texts usually pertain to the highest levels of the aristocracy, regularly included blessings of the rings.80 Reports from chroniclers (from outside Bohemia) very often mention the placement of the rings on the bride’s or groom’s finger during, not after, the speaking of the marital vows, which plays witness to the rings becoming a symbol for matrimony in the royal and ducal environment.81 The rings could have served as a symbol of betrothal, especially in lower social circles, although they could have been replaced by other items as well.82 Rings also played their role among the Czech nobility as can be seen by a short record from the Zbraslav chronicler who claimed that Petr of Rožmberk married Viola of Teschen with the approval of King John of Luxembourg even though he had been betrothed through a ring to the daughter of Jindřich of Lipá.83 Another grand feast followed the blessing of Elisabeth and John’s marriage, again taking place next to Speyer cathedral. The prepared seating order placed men to the left (the kings’ table) and women on the right (the queens’ table). Bread was brought at the beginning of the feast and the kings of Bohemia and of the Romans ceremonial washed their hands. The bread and washing of hands evoked a Biblical feast in this case and should have provided the meal taking place after the benediction with an almost sacred character. At the time, a conflict erupted between the Mainz and Cologne archbishops over who would stand at the king’s right, which the Zbraslav chronicler said grew out of the ancient competition between the two metropolitans over exceptional

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Jean–Baptiste Molin and Pierre Mutembe, Le rituel du mariage en France, du XIIe au XVIe siècle (Paris : Beauchesne, 1974). For the Polish environment on the basis of a Polish pontifical see Władysław Abraham, Zawarcie małżeńwtwa w pierwotnym prawie polskim (Lviv: Towarzystwo Naukowe, 1925), pp. 359–71. Contrarily, Olomouc Bishop Albrecht of Sternberg’s pontifical does not include any benediction associated with marriage  – cf. Ludwig Schmugge, “Das Pontifikale des Bischofs Albert von Sternberg,” Mediaevalia Bohemica 3 (1970), pp. 49–86. Urszula Borkowska, “Króleskie zaślubiny, narodziny i chrzest,” in Imagines Potestatis. Rytuały, symbole i konteksty faularne władzy zwierzchniej. Polska X–XV w., ed. Jacek Banaszkiewicz (Warsaw: Instytut Historii PAN, 1994), p. 78; Zeilinger, Die Uracher Hochzeit 1474, p. 61–2. On the methods of marriage in the Czech environment and on marital disputes, cf. Zdeňka Hledíková, “Zápisy z manželských sporů  – nepovšimnutý pramen 15. století,” in Pocta Josefu Petráňovi (Prague: Historický ústav ČSAV, 1991), pp. 79–93. Reprinted in Eadem, Svět české středověké církve, pp. 273–83. For the Polish environment see Abraham, Zawarcie małżeństwa w pierwotnym prawie polskim, pp. 360–3; Maria Koczerska, “Zawarcie małżeństwa”; Maria Koczerska, Rodzina szlachecka. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 230: “que sibi desponsacionis annulo desponsata fuerat.”

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standing within the Empire.84 The argument between prelates created great indignation that had to be dealt with by the Holy Roman Emperor. He took both archbishops by the hand and led them to his palace where he had a private feast served. The conflict between both ecclesiastic electors was incorporated into the images of the Speyer wedding in the so-called Balduin’s Codex, which was supposed to build a visual memory of Henry VII’s acts in the Luxembourger and Mainz environments. The constitutive act of accepting the marriage vows here shows the Mainz Archbishop Peter of Aspelt connecting the hands of the newlyweds, thus contradicting the reports by Peter of Zittau. The tension caused by the conflict did not ruin the spectacular feast. The King of Bohemia John sat in the most prestigious seat under purple hangings surrounded by imperial magnates. Knights served food to the king at the royal table on gaited horses while music played. A banner with the symbol of the Kingdom of Bohemia was planted in the middle of the feasting room. We do not know what foods were served during the feast,85 just as we do not know if theatrical productions or living images were performed,86 as was the norm in the French and Burgundian environment during the 14th and 15th centuries. For example, living images were performed during the celebration of the marriage of Margaret of York to Charles the Bold beginning with Margaret’s arrival in Sluis and the ceremonial entrance to Bruges (after the blessing of the union in Damme), with most evoking Biblical stories, such as the wedding of Queen Salome or the miracles of Cana of Galilee. Living images were also performed during the celebratory banquet and were associated with the tapestries that decorated the feasting room: scenes from the life of Queen Ester, King Jason acquiring the golden fleece; the conquest of Troy; all scenes connected with Burgundian family traditions. Even the gold-covered boats placed on the feasting tables had a direct tie to the land as each displayed the name and symbol of one of Charles’s territories. Then 30 pâtés were served in the forms of castles labelled with the names and symbols of the most significant Burgundian cities. Negotiations about the marriage contract between Ladislaus Posthumous and 84 85

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See Josef Šusta, Král cizinec (České dějiny, II/2) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1939), p. 129. Very many analogies about the variety of feast tables could be listed. Cf. for instance Hiereth, Herzog Georgs Hochzeit, pp. 50–6; Zeilinger, Die Uracher Hochzeit 1474, pp. 71–5, which points out that fewer courses were served in Urach compared with the weddings in Amberg and Landshut. For details on wedding celebrations on the basis of the accounts of Corinthian dukes, see Riedmann, “Adelige Sachkultur Tirols,” pp. 105–31. For living images during the wedding of Charles the Bold and Margaret of York, see Harm von Seggern, Herrschermedien im Spätmittelalter. Studien zur Informationsübermittlung im burgundischen Staat unter Karl dem Kühnen (Sigmaringen: Jan Sigmaringen, 2003), p. 274; Spieß, “Höfische Feste,” p. 345.

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Magdalena, daughter of Charles VII of France confirm that food evoking architectural treasures labelled with the symbols of the groom had a grand tradition in the French environment. At a feast in Tours where the Czech embassy was completing talks about the final wedding details, the guests were presented with a meal in the shape of a castle with four little towers in the corners decorated with the symbols of the Czech messengers and a large tower in the middle decorated with Ladislaus’s banner at its peak.87 An inseparable part of the marriage celebration in the imperial environment was ceremonial dancing and especially chivalric tournaments. Dancing was a ceremonial celebration where the male and female worlds intersected in the imperial environment, contrary to feast. The first dance played an especially symbolic role, lavishly demonstrating the prestige of the invited guests. In any case, the first to dance with the bride was usually not the groom, but either her brother,88 which symbolised separating herself from his parents’ house; or, as in Landshut in 1475, the first dance was given to Emperor Frederik as the highest-ranking representative of worldly authority.89 The tournaments, including the types of weapons and forms of combat,90 were discussed during the wedding preparations and instructions were usually included in invitations in order to avoid one of the guests arriving without the prescribed tournament horses. Spaces for the tournaments were also prepared. The bigger the celebration, the more lavish the preparations. Even usually rather fragmented Czech sources give us fleeting proof of this. A new tanzhús or dance house was built in the Old Town during preparations for the wedding of Ladislaus Posthumous, and the tournament was set for the town’s square. Holy Roman Emperor Frederick III, King of Poland Casimir IV, Saxon Elector William, papal Legate Juan Carvajal, and even both the bride’s brothers (the oldest son of Louis of France and the Burgundian Prince Charles) were scheduled to attend.91 Cheb’s inhabitants also had to build a new dance house in 1459 when they spent nearly six months preparing for the wedding of George of Poděbrady’s daughter Sidonie to the son of the Saxon Elector Albert.92 87 88 89 90 91 92

Urbánek, Konec Ladislava Pohrobka, p. 142. Spieß, “Fremdheit und Integration,” p. 274. Hiereth, Herzog Georgs Hochzeit, p. 47. For the various forms in the Czech environment, see Libor Jan, “Počátky turnajů v českých zemích a jejich rozkvět v době Václava II.,” Listy filologické 128 (2005), pp. 1–19. Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, ed. František Šimek (Prague: Historický spolek, 1937), p. 120. Karl Siegl, “Zur Geschichte der Fürstentage Georg von Podiebrad in Eger in den Jahren 1459, 1461 und 1467,” Mitteilungen des Vereins für Geschichte der Deutschen in Böhmen 42 (1904), p. 212; in broader context on this marriage see Jörg Rogge, “Herzog Albrecht von Sachsen und Böhmen – der Tag von Eger (1459) und der Zug nach Prag (1471),” in Herzog Albrecht der Beherzte (1443–1500). Ein sächsicher Fürst im Reich und in Europa,

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There was no lack of surprises during tournaments at weddings where the couple came from different courtly cultures. Let us return to Speyer in 1310 once again. The tournament lances of the Czech knights were the cause of awe as they were rounded, strong, and the combatants held them under their arms. Contrary to those of the Rhineland knights, the Czech lances were longer and thicker, which aroused fear. The chronicler unfortunately does not tell us whether the Holy Roman Emperor or his 14-year-old son John participated themselves in the tournament, but it would not have been anything unusual if the king himself had joined the lists. We know from 15th-century weddings that even kings and grooms competed for the favour of the ladies. In these cases, it was considered good manners to allow the groom to win. Grooms thus usually fought incognito in order to avoid becoming the target of calumny and ridicule that they are not true knights.93 When that long last day of August in Speyer approached its end, the exchange of vows had to be supplemented by a purely worldly act: the consummation, or a symbolic laying of the couple next to one another on the marriage bed. Great importance was placed on the consummation in the late Middle Ages in the imperial aristocratic environment. It was chiefly in this area where the ideas of lay aristocratic individuals clashed with the strictly canonical thinking of the clerics. It was of no help to Philip II of France to claim during his “divorce proceedings” from Danish Princess Ingeborg that no physical connection took place during their wedding night.94 The decrees of the Fourth Lateran Council and the resolutions issued by Pope Gregory IX clearly stated that a marriage established through the free expression of agreement by the bride and groom is valid even without a physical connection and it cannot be undone or annulled because of an absence of consummation or on the basis of proven impotence.95

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ed. André Thieme (Cologne/Weimar/Vienna: Böhlau, 2002), pp. 32–4. Recently Uwe Schirmer, “Die Fürstenhochzeit zu Eger vom November 1459. Alltagskultur – Logistik – Personenverbände,” in Eger 1459: Fürstentreffen zwischen Sachsen, Böhmen und ihren Nachbarn: dynastische Politik, fürstliche Repräsentation und kulturelle Verflechtung, eds. André Thieme, Uwe Tresp, Erhard Hirsch, Gabriele Annas, Mario Müller and Jörg Schwarz (Dößel: J. Stekovics, 2011), pp. 309–27. Paravicini, “Die zwölf ‘Magnificenses’,” p. 335–6. About the divorce of Philip II of France and Ingeborg of Denmark see Robert-Hermann Tenbrock, Eherecht und Ehepolitik bei Innocencz III. (Münster, 1933) (diss.), pp. 74–80; Georges Duby, Rytíř, žena a kněz. Manželství ve Francii v době feudalismu (Prague: Garamond, 2002), pp. 166–71. For details on the canon-legal point of view, see Jean Gaudemet, “Le dossier canonique du mariage de Philippe Auguste et Ingeburge de Danemark (1193–1213),” Revue d’histoire du droit française 62 (1984), pp. 15–26. On the discussion of the constitutional nature of marriage, see cf. Hubert Kroppmann, Ehedispensübung und Stauferkampf unter Innozenz IV. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des

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The short record by Peter of Zittau – “And when the day of the feast turned into evening, in order to complete all the demands of the sacrament of marriage, the young groom and bride were laid together in bed after first being blessed. However, the loud joy of those standing around and celebrating did not provide the couple with peace as they laid together that night. The next day in the morning everyone rose to continue the celebrations and thus the entire day and the rest of the entire week were meant for pleasurable entertainment,”96 – could play witness to the wedding night in Speyer taking place according to traditions known elsewhere.97 The newlyweds left for the marriage bed before the feast ended and it continued on deep into the night without them. The Zbraslav chronicler was also unable to record all of the details of the wedding celebrations and associated lay rituals that took place in Speyer, which is why we again have to rely on mere analogy. Waking after the wedding in the imperial aristocratic environment was associated with the presentation of a lavish morning gift (Morgengabe), which was a sort of thanks to the bride for the first night of matrimony. During the ducal wedding in Landshut, gifts were presented to the newlyweds just after the bride received her morning present,98 while in Amberg the presentation took place the next day after the ceremonial blessing of the couple following the wedding night.99 The wedding in Urach was a similar case where the newlyweds received their gifts after the blessing and a banquet in the dance hall. As the gifts were rather prestigious and expressed the social status of the giver, two scribes immediately

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päpstlichen Ehedispensrechtes (Berlin: Verlag für Staatswissenschaften und Geschichte, 1937), pp. 16–23, 27–36; Veldtrup, Zwischen Eherecht und Familienpolitik, pp. 21–62, which includes references to other literature dealing with the development of canonic marital law. Recently Michael M. Sheehan, “Theory and Practice: Marriage of the Unfree and the Poor in Medieval Society,” Medieval Studies 50 (1988), pp. 457–87; Maciej Michalski, “Coitus albo consensus, czyli co stanowi o ważności małżeństwa. Relacja z pewnej dyskusji z XI–XIII wieku,” in Nihil superfluum esse. Prace z dziejów średniowiecza ofiarowane Profesor Jadwidze Krzyżaniakowej (Poznań: Instytut Historii, 2000), pp. 159–66. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 152. It must be added that local customs decided whether the man was laid with the woman or the woman with the man. Wettlauger, “Beilager und Bettleite,” p. 103. The order of individual acts was also different: sometimes there was symbolic or even real copulation even before the ecclesiastic blessing of the union, sometimes after the marriage ritual, during the celebration, or after the first celebration – cf. Karl-Heinz Spieß, Familie und Verwandschaft im deutschen Hochadel des Spätmittelalters 13. bis Anfang des 16. Jahrhunderts (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1993), pp. 128–35; Zeilinger, Die Uracher Hochzeit 1474, pp. 59–60. Hiereth, Herzog Georgs Hochzeit, pp. 15, 78. Buchner, “Quellen zur Amberger Hochzeit von 1474,” p. 419.

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recorded what gift was presented by whom so it was not forgotten.100 As the presentation of gifts in the Middle Ages also took on the character of social communication, the newlyweds were not the only people to receive presents. Many guests received gifts from the father of the bride, such as rings, broaches, and silver decorations for horses.101 The exchange of wedding vows, the blessing of the newlyweds, the celebratory feast, the ceremonial dance, the chivalric tournament, and the wedding night were more the beginning of the wedding celebration than its conclusion. In the imperial ducal environment of the second half of the 15th century, it was normal for wedding celebrations to last three to four days and it was considered impolite to depart after the wedding night. Excessive modesty was something only for the world of burghers, where the 15th century saw the first regulations that limited the number of wedding guests and expenditures for the ceremonial feast. Efforts to limit luxury were not the only reason behind these measures.102 On the contrary, the rising self-confidence of the patriciate led to their attempts to create social distinction between themselves and ordinary burghers in this way as the limitations did not apply to patricians and their weddings could sometimes be more lavish and expensive than those of lower nobles. However, even some members of the highest aristocracy tried to limit expenditures on weddings. When Sophia, the daughter of King of Poland Casimir IV, embarked in the company of 60 Polish nobles on her trip to Frankfurt in the fall of 1479 to marry her future husband, the son of the Margrave of Brandenburg Albrecht III Achilles, Długosz writes that the members of her company were shocked. Contrary to contemporary tradition, members of the princess’s company did not receive any food or even fodder for their horses from their host. When members of the Polish royal council prepared for their return trip, they had another unpleasant surprise: They did not receive any gifts from the groom, either.103 The farewells after the end of the wedding celebration were sad for another reason, however. If the groom had sympathy for his bride, he often allowed part of her company to stay, mostly the women or a confessor who was to dispel her

100 Zeilinger, Die Uracher Hochzeit 1474, p. 63. 101 See Hiereth, Herzog Georgs Hochzeit, pp. 19–20. On wedding gifts in Eger 1459 see Rogge, “Herzog Albrecht von Sachsen und Böhmen,” p. 34. 102 Neithard Bulst, “Feste und Feiern unter Auflagen. Mittelalterliche Tauf-, Hochzeits und Begräbnisordnungen in Deutschlan und Frankreich,” in Feste und Feiern im Mittelalter, eds. Detlef Altenburg, Jörg Jarnut and Hans Hubo Steinhoff (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1991), pp. 39–43; Wettlauger, “Beilager und Bettleite,” p. 107. 103 Jana Długosza Roczniky, vol. 12, p. 440.

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fears for the salvation of her soul in a foreign environment.104 If, however, he wanted her to integrate into a new world as fast as possible, for her to accept his traditions and learn the local language, then he separated her from all the women and courtiers that came from her homeland. The goodbyes were also difficult for the parents, which was the case of Henry VII and his wife Margaret. When the Holy Roman Emperor’s court set out on the trip through Strasbourg to Colmar, no one knew the king and queen had seen their son for the last time. According to the Zbraslav chronicler, Margaret cried day and night and the departure of her only son caused her to stop eating and drinking. Members of John’s accompaniment tried to calm her with the promise to serve loyally her son forever. At first, she refused to meet or hear them out. In the end, she gathered her strength, called them back, and told them: “I give you my single born, please help him with wise council and aid. I give you my entire treasure, the beloved light of my eyes, and I give him up almost in grief.”105 John’s father was also upset and could not part with his son. During a discussion with Cistercian abbots, Henry allegedly held his son in his hands and made the prelates swear to help, educate, and constantly watch over him as he is going to a devastated kingdom, a foreign land, and to a different people. In reality, the Holy Roman Emperor could not excessively delay his son as his future was dependent on a quick departure to Bohemia. Here is where fathers of juvenile or very young daughters were in a better position. Although the union had been established and all religious and lay rituals were performed including the symbolic or real consummation, fathers could use their power to delay the departure of daughters to their husband’s court, either for political reasons or out of pure paternal love. Husbands could try their utmost, but the final say was up to the father. That was also the fate of young Wenceslas II. Even after the consummation of the marriage in Cheb in 1285, Rudolf I of Germany took his 14-year-old daughter Judith back to Austria.106 It took at least two years of entreaties and requests for the Holy Roman Emperor to send finally his daughter to Bohemia. Rudolf only relented at the beginning of the summer of 1287 and sent Judith and a large party to the court of her husband, definitely losing his paternal oversight. Contrary to Wenceslas II’s second wife, the Polish Princess Elisabeth Richeza, Judith was not arriving in a an entirely foreign land. German chivalric and courtly traditions dominated at Wenceslas’s court,

104 For examples see Spieß, “Unterwegs zu einem fremden Ehemann,” p. 31. 105 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 156. 106 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 26.

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with minnesangers reciting their poems in German and courtly fashions and norms were probably not that different from the Vienna court.107 Several years later, experience led Wenceslas II to act similarly to his father-in-law Rudolf of Germany. When he accepted the offer of the Polish crown from the Polish nobility, he also accepted the condition to marry Przemysł II’s only daughter Elisabeth. Reports in the chronicles say their betrothal took place before the Polish campaign.108 It is even possible the betrothal was a per procurationem marriage that obligated the King of Bohemia to consummate the union as soon as possible. However, after the coronation in Gniezno, Wenceslas II actually took his time confirming the marriage.109 The Margrave of Brandenburg, whose prematurely deceased son Otto was originally to marry Elisabeth, was also probably involved in the marriage contracts. The princess was sent to Bohemia with the appropriate accompaniment some time in 1300 and the meeting with the Bohemian king’s embassy led by Sedlec Abbot Heidenreich and Beneš of Vartemberk took place in Zittau.110 To the surprise of all, the betrothal or per procurationem marriage was not consummated in Prague despite Elisabeth having reached the age of 14. Instead, the King of Bohemia sent her “to be educated” to Gryfina of Halych, the widow of Leszek II the Black, Duke of Cracow, who knew Polish court traditions and was probably in Bohemia at the time, possibly at the Budyně nad Ohří castle. The delay in the wedding, which Peter of Zittau said continued to grow, caused discontent on the Czech and especially the Polish side. That is why in Brno during Easter 1303, the Zbraslav Abbot Konrad urged the king to consummate finally the marriage and thus avoid God’s wrath: “See the noble royal daughter eligible for marriage betrothed to you, waiting for marriage, yet you delay it. Since for two kingdoms, Bohemia and Poland, you have an only son who is now king in Hungary, you must endeavour to grow the number of your sons with God’s blessing for the joy of your people and kingdoms.”111 Whether the abbot’s speech had an influence on Wenceslas is not important. In any case, 107 To the court culture Wenceslas II see Libor Jan, Václav II. a struktury panovnické moci (Brno, 2006); Dana Dvořáčková-Malá, “Dvorská kultura přemyslovského období. Nástin problematiky a možnosti výzkumu,” Mediaevalia Historica Bohemica 12/1 (2009), pp. 9–43; Dana Dvořáčková-Malá, “Václav II. a jeho dvůr,” in Královský sňatek, pp. 364–71. 108 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 85. 109 No attention is paid to the engagement of Wenceslas II to Elisabeth, the daughter of Przemysł II in Robert Antonín, Zahraniční politika Václava II. v letech 1283–1300 (Brno: Matice moravská, 2009), pp. 210–7. 110 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 85. 111 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 86.

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the marriage and coronation of Elisabeth Richeza as Queen of Bohemia was celebrated in Prague right after Pentecost of that year. The delay in the wedding, possibly caused by Wenceslas II’s unbound sex life and the possible conception of several illegitimate children,112 was fateful for the king according to Peter of Zittau. Elisabeth did not give birth to a son to the disappointment of all, only a daughter Agnes and sooner than “the Queen was cleaned and before she stood from the birthing bed”,113 Wenceslas II unexpectedly died at a young age. Tout ensemble, delaying a wedding or keeping the bride with her father after the union could prove to be a mistake, whatever the political calculations or familial motivations involved. 5

Royal Divorces

Not all medieval royal marriages ended in the death of one of the partners. Contrary to Judaism permitting divorce in the case of the wife’s adultery, Christianity was not allowing one.114 The foundation for this rigorous behaviour supported by the early Christian church were Jesus’s statements in the Gospels that men that left their wives became adulterers and fornicators, committing serious sins.115 The practice of the Frankish church and German law codes116 began to adopt a principle that approved of the dissolution of marriage in exceptional, canonically strictly-defined cases, based on interpretations of the apostle Paul (1 K 7, 12–15), who approved of the dissolution in the case of religious differences. However, the Church exclusively decided on declaring marriages invalid from the very beginning (i.e. proclaiming the previous exchange of marital vows not valid). Its representatives, usually bishops or assemblies of clerics from the diocese or possibly the territory, issued decisions about the existence of obstacles to concluding valid marriages that took effect retroactively. 112 On the illegitimate children of Wenceslas II see Zdeňka Hledíková, “Alžběta, dcera Václava II.,” in Eadem, Svět české středověké církve, pp. 247–53. 113 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 87. 114 The narrative here is based on my study Martin Nodl, “Rituál rozvodu,” in Stát, státnost a rituály přemyslovského věku. Problémy, názory, otázky, eds. Martin Wihoda and Demeter Malaťák (Brno: Matice moravská, 2006), pp. 113–34. 115 Fox example Joseph Bonsirven, “Nisi fornicationis causa,” Recherches de science religieuse 35 (1948), pp. 442–64. 116 Cf. Edith Ennenová, Ženy ve středověku (Prague: Argo, 2001), pp. 60–4. This includes a detailed analysis of German marital law that was in sharp conflict with church law for recognizing various forms of marital unions on pp. 32–44.

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Among canon law experts of the 11th and 12th centuries, there was a discussion associated with the development of Gregorian reforms concerning the sacramental character of marriage and the obstacles that prevented a marriage or could be used to invalidate one from its very beginning.117 Besides adultery and close familial relations, incurable illness, attempts to take the partner’s life, kidnapping, forced marriages, damage to genitalia, and similar objections could also be cited in the practice of the early Middle Ages. At the normative level of the 12th and 13th century, the idea that came to the forefront was that a marriage can be annulled only in instances of fourth degree or higher of consanguinity or if marriage vows had previously been exchanged. Other cases, such as adultery, impotence, domestic violence, and the like could only lead to a separation where neither partner could marry again. The actual influence of papal decrees in the lay environment can only be observed in the files of church courts from the 14th and 15th centuries. Their testimony provides us a definite proof that reasons other than consanguinity and monastic vows were grounds to annul unions: earlier marriages, impotence, forced marriage, failure to fulfil marital conditions (the bride should be a virgin), familial approval, and even the demand of sexual consummation as a constitutive act.118 On the contrary, in cases of adultery the courts almost always ruled for separations where the man and woman had to oblige themselves to live in sexual purity and entering into a new marriage was forbidden. A verdict of legal separation was also used in cases where one of the partners was able to prove poor and inappropriate treatment from the other. However, as we do not encounter separations on the basis of adultery in English dioceses (contrary to Germany), and all separations are based on poor treatment (male pertractaverit), it is more than likely that adultery was included in the poor treatment category in some territories.119 Lower social levels especially emphasised the first physical coupling, which could even take symbolic form. From marital conflicts of the 14th and 15th centuries (even though each conflict was sui generis and the same courts often issued contradictory rulings), we are sure that physical coupling before consensual marriage, as well as long-term impotence, became among the most important arguments for the annulment of a marriage after the exchange of 117 For obstacles to marital legitimacy, see for example Kroppmann, Ehedispensübung und Stauferkampf, pp. 15–6. 118 The causes for annulment on the basis of marital courts in Western Europe was analysed in detail by Rudolf Wiegand, “Zur mittelalterlichen kirchlichen Ehegerichtsbarkeit. Rechtsvergleichende Untersuchung,” ZRG KA 67 (1981) pp. 230–45. 119 R.H. Helmholz, Marriage Litigation in Medieval England (Cambridge/London/New York/ Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1974), pp. 100–7.

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marriage vows. With a certain bit of exaggeration, we can claim that in lower social circles where unions between close relations were not as common, impotence or premarital sex were more often a cause for divorce than first- to fourth-degree consanguinity. In practice, papal dispensations to marriage obstacles only concerned the direct and indirect lines and they could also possibly deal with monastic vows taken in the past.120 The seventh level of consanguinity was considered an obstacle to marriage up to the Fourth Lateran Council by provisions in canon law and Germanic law codes.121 However, the established legal practice before the Council was the idea that if the people did not know whether they were of fifth, sixth, or seventh degree of consanguinity, then their marriage was considered valid and indivisible.122 The Council thus more or less sides with the canons that favoured setting only the fourth level of consanguinity as an obstacle to marriage. If the Fourth Lateran Council is a significant milestone in the setting of the forbidden level of consanguinity and declaring mutual agreement as an act constitutive for a valid marriage, then it was not as important in terms of the granting of papal dispensations related to marital affairs. Up to the pontificate of Innocent III, we know of 12 marital papal dispensations.123 In his effort to assert papal primacy in questions of marital laws and legality, Innocent III interfered in marital affairs much more than his predecessors and used dispensations at an increased rate. Today, we know of 12 dispensations he granted (the most significant political impact was undoubtedly the dispensation to the fourth degree of consanguinity that allowed the marriage between the Holy Roman Emperor Otto IV and Beatrice of Hohenstaufen),124 all before the Fourth Lateran Council.125 However, after the Council that fundamentally altered the heretofore understanding of marital law, the pope did not grant a single dispensation, nor did his immediate successors. The origins of a sophisticated and developed papal dispensation policy thus reach into the mid-13th 120 The issue of papal dispensations that freed men and woman from monastic vows were an exception in papal dispensational policy: for example, popes Boniface VIII and Clement V never issued any of these dispensations and only three cases are known from the pontificate of John XXII. Cf. Anneliese Esch, Die Ehedispense Johanns XXII. und ihre Beziehung zur Politik (Berlin: Vaduz, 1929), p. 20. 121 On papal dispensations generally see Veldtrup, Zwischen Eherecht und Familienpolitik, pp. 96–132. 122 František Laurin, “Pokrevenství a švakrovství jakožto překážky manželství rozlučující podle práva církevního,” Rozpravy České Akademie císaře Františka Josefa 1 (1891), p. 35. 123 Kroppmann, Ehedispensübung und Stauferkampf, pp. 18–9. 124 Hucker, Otto IV., p. 164. 125 Tenbrock, Eherecht und Ehepolitik, p. 19.

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century and are associated with the pontificate of Innocent IV, who granted dispensations as a foundation for marriage or to remove canonical obstacles to already-concluded unions in 272 cases.126 Up to the pontificate of Innocent IV, the canon law authorities and even the popes themselves were unsure of their rights to interfere in marital affairs, both generally and specifically in terms of issuing dispensations, when natural law as well as the Bible only include bans in the cases of first- or second-degree consanguinity.127 It is also significant that up to the pontificate of Innocent IV, dispensations had almost exclusively been issued for concluded marriages, a practice that was also often the case at least into the first decades of the 14th century.128 Innocent III’s interference in 13th-century European politics through a sophisticated marital policy is significantly overrated. Pope Innocent, generally and in the opinion of important canons, did not fully have the options that the popes of the late 13th and early 14th centuries possessed, even though he put forth great effort to attain it. In a broader sense, his marital policy129 was concentrated on influencing ecclesiastic legal processes that should have led to annulling already-established marriages on the basis of existing canonical obstacles that were not considered when the union was established. This was the way Innocent III, from his position of papal authority, influenced the results of the annulment process between Philip II of France and Ingeborg of Denmark; between Ottokar I of Bohemia and Adelheid of Meissen; and between Peter II of Aragon and Marie of Montpellier. The reasons to declare these marriages invalid from the beginning were listed as non-canonical consanguinity, establishing the marriage without ecclesiastic participation, or impotence, which was the lack of physical consummation of a consensual union. Innocent III, however, only issued a final ruling in one case confirming the union of Peter II of Aragon and Marie of Montpellier. He left the other two cases open over the long term. For the Czech environment, the most interesting union and efforts for its dissolution was the case of the marriage between Ottokar I of Bohemia and

126 Kroppmann, Ehedispensübung und Stauferkampf, p. 4. from Innocent IV’s predecessors, Honorius III issued three dispensations and Gregory IX 18. 127 Kroppmann, Ehedispensübung und Stauferkampf, p. 12. 128 Srov. Gerhard Albert Schormann, Beiträge zur Ehepolitik der Päpste von Benedikt XII. bis Gregor XI. (Bonn: Schormann, 1969). 129 Innocent’s activities in marital politics in the broader and narrower sense were categorised in Tenbrock, Eherecht und Ehepolitik, p. 37–99, which analysed in detail all papal interventions into marital matters with an emphasis on their part in the conflict for the Roman throne.

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Adelheid of Meissen.130 The only sources we have about this marital conflict are documents by Innocent III and the letters of Ottokar I to this pope. We can determine from Ottokar I’s testimony that the marriage established at some point in the 1180s (the couple probably did not recall the exact date) was a secret wedding without witnesses and without granting the dowry. The ritual form of a marriage annulment is only known from Ottokar I’s letter addressed to the pope where he describes the beginning of the marital conflict being adjudicated by the Prague Bishop Daniel. Three requests were allegedly made for Adelheid or her legal representatives to attend the proceedings. As she refused, the trial began without her, with Ottokar presenting seven witnesses (whose testimonies have been lost) that claimed their fourth degree of consanguinity violated canonical law. The bishop, in one of Prague’s abbeys at the end of 1198 or the beginning of the following year, issued a verdict in the presence of other clerics that annulled the marriage on the basis of a fourth degree of consanguinity. According to Adelheid’s testimony and description to the pope, the verdict itself was a nearly theatrical production because Adelheid, who finally decided to attend its proclamation, was repeatedly prevented from entering the abbey hall.131 Several months later, Ottokar I married Constance of Hungary, who had Hungarian clerics confirm that Ottokar’s annulment was valid.132 Ottokar probably suspected Adelheid will appeal to the pope after the formal annulment of the marriage, which she allegedly threatened to do together with her brother before the act itself. That is why Ottokar sent a letter to the pope asking him to confirm the annulment and approval for his new marriage. We only know about the proceedings between Ottokar and Adelheid held at the Curia over the validity of the annulment (probably beginning in 1199) through mentions in papal documents. The files that contained the testimony of both sides have unfortunately not survived. Much more important than the names of the individuals the pope tasked with the investigation is the fact that, at least according to a letter from Innocent III to the Archbishop of Salzburg, 130 The political background of the marriage’s annulment was captured years ago by Marie L. Černá, “Rozvod Přemysla I. s Adélou Míšeňskou,” Časopis Společnosti přátel starožitností českých 31 (1923), pp. 9–44. After her, the topic of this divorce was studied in detail by Tenbrock, Eherecht und Ehepolitik, pp. 66–73, whose work is completely unknown in our environment. Most recently, the topic of Ottokar’s divorce with an emphasis on the political level was studied by Martin Wihoda, Zlatá bula sicilská. Podivuhodný příběh ve vrstvách paměti (Prague: Argo, 2005), pp. 144–5. 131 CDB, vol. II, 1198–1230, ed. Gustav Friedrich, pp. 8–9, no. 9: “convocato quorumdam pre­ latorum consilio in quodam monasterio, ad petitionem et mandatum ipsius ducis, ipsa volente ad eos accedere, ut suas coram eis proponeret rationes, militibus eiusdem ducis prohibentibus ei bis vel ter intressum.” 132 CDB, vol. II, pp. 81–5, no. 88.

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in an attempt to return to Philip of Swabia’s camp, Ottokar I called an assembly of his magnates at the beginning of 1205 and pledged to expel Constance and accept Adelheid. According to the pope’s interpretation, Ottokar declared he had rejected Adelheid without reason.133 Even though Ottokar was under pressure and at the time did not have a male heir with Constance (the son born in 1200 that received the name Vratislaus as to deny symbolically the claims of his son Vratislaus from his marriage with Adelheid, died shortly after birth; the situation changed again in 1205 with the birth of his son Wenceslas), the declaration did give him room to maneuver and resolve the long conflict. The form of the pledge he took provided him with a great deal of freedom. According to the pope’s version, his oath was not taken at an assembly of clerics, but at some sort of diet that of itself could not reverse the verdict issued by Bishop Daniel that at this point had been confirmed by Pope Innocent III years before. Ottokar’s emphasis on Adelheid’s legitimacy is also significant. If her legitimacy as his wife was not confirmed (and following the bishop’s verdict the confirmation could only come from the pope), then he could take his oath back because, from a legal perspective, Adelheid would have never been his legitimate wife. The conflict continued even after Ottokar’s oath was taken and the pope repeatedly named new judges that failed to bring a resolution to the case.134 Innocent III promised to issue a final verdict, but that never happened135 just as he never doubted the verdict issued by the Prague bishop (though he was criticised for procedural errors, mostly for issuing a final verdict when he knew or at least suspected that Adelheid wanted to appeal to the pope), nor did he doubt the existence of their fourth degree of consanguinity. The other marriage that made a significant impact on Přemyslid history is the union of Ottokar II and Margaret of Austria. Ottokar was slow to decide to divorce his infertile wife, certainly under the influence of the contemporary context, even though the large age gap between the two could have played a role from the beginning of their marriage.136 Finding himself without an heir, Ottokar decided to act as many sovereigns had before and after. In the first phase, the King of Bohemia attempted to resolve the untenable situation 133 CDB, vol. II, pp. 48–50, no. 55: “quod legitimam uxorem meum sine causa dimissi et propter hoc filios meos filiasque confudi.” 134 This phase of the conflict was precisely described by Černá, “Rozvod Přemysla I. s Adélou Míšeňskou,” pp. 30–41. 135 Without support in the sources and knowledge of Innocent’s marital policy, the literature surmises that the final verdict was to the detriment of Adelheid. Cf. Černá, “Rozvod Přemysla I. s Adélou Míšeňskou,” p. 42, and newer literature is in the same spirit. 136 For a summary about the divorce from Margaret and marriage to Kunigunde, see Jörg K. Hoensch, Přemysl Otakar II. von Böhmen. Der goldene König (Graz/Vienna/Cologne: Styria, 1989), p. 122–9, 273–4.

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differently than a complicated religious-legal annulment of his marriage. Some time before October 1260, he asked Pope Alexander IV to legitimise his offsprings with Agnes of Kuenring: his son Nicholas and two daughters. The pope legitimised the children on October 6 and 7,137 but explicitly said two weeks later in a new document that they could not inherit the Czech throne.138 Ottokar thus decided to annul his marriage when he lost the option of passing the crown to Nicholas. As in the case of his grandfather’s divorce, the legal files of the case have been lost and we must rely on a document by Urban IV where the pope retroactively confirmed the annulment on the basis of Margaret having taken monastic vows at some point in the past. We know from Urban’s document that Margaret herself admitted to entering a convent after Henry VII of Germany’s death. The pope also cited the testimony of several bishops and nobles who also confirmed that she took monastic vows. Today, we only have the testimony of two witnesses139 who swore before the Curia that they heard from many clerics that Margaret had entered the Dominican abbey in Trier in 1243 and she was seen in the garb of this order many times. Convinced by these witnesses, Urban IV confirmed the marriage between Ottokar and Margaret never existed: “prefato matriminio, quod nullum erat”.140 As Ottokar had already entered into a new marriage that faced the canonical obstacle of fourth degree consanguinity, he also issued a dispensation to the betrothed that had already exchanged their vows.141 The Czech and Austrian chroniclers that commented on Ottokar’s annulment in the 13th and 14th centuries were most interested in the causes of the divorce, and an important role in their narratives was of course played by their view of the King of Bohemia. The author of the Zbraslav chronicle interpreted the annulment in favour of Ottokar, claiming the divorce was undertaken in agreement with the Curia and Ottokar initiated proceedings after consulting with the domestic nobility.142 He listed Margaret’s infertility as the chief argument for the annulment and not her monastic vows. Austrian chroniclers who certainly were not inclined to support Ottokar also considered Margaret’s infertility the cause of the divorce. Francis of Prague presented a noteworthy version of the story nearly a century later, claiming Margaret initiated the divorce 137 CDB, vol. V/1, 1253–1266, eds. Jindřich Šebánek and Sáša Dušková (Prague: Československá akademie věd, 1974), pp. 370–2, no. 239–40. 138 CDB, vol. V/1, p. 376, no 244. 139 CDB, vol. V/1, p. 537–8, no. 362. 140 CDB, vol. V/1, p. 479–80, no. 321. 141 CDB, vol. V/1, p. 479–80, no. 321. Cf. Václav Novotný, Rozmach české moci za Přemysla II. Otakara (1253–1271) (České dějiny, I/4) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1937), pp. 106–7. 142 Influence by the Czech nobility on Ottokar’s decision was already rejected by Novotný, Rozmach české moci, p. 103.

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while accusing Ottokar of infertility.143 This version, including Margaret’s accusation of Ottokar’s infertility, was accepted nearly verbatim by Přibík Pulkava in both editions of his chronicle. Contrary to Francis of Prague and to Peter of Zittau, Přibík Pulkava did not consider the legal foundation for the annulment to be Margaret’s infertility, but the monastic vows she took in the Trier abbey and her not having acquired a dispensation from her vows before marrying Ottokar. His narrative thus incorporates not only known facts, but also significant canonical ideas about divorce granted by the pope.144 Doubts about the pope’s exclusive right to grant dispensations in marital affairs, both prior to and following the establishment and consummation of a union, appeared only once the practice of papal dispensation was very developed (several dozen granted annually, although the quantitative increase was significantly expanded by applications from members of Italian patrician families). During the pontificate of Benedict XII, challenges to the pope’s exclusive dispensation rights had an important political subtext that was clearly associated with the long-running conflict between the Curia and Holy Roman Emperor Louis IV. This was significantly affected by the divorce of Margaret, Countess of Tyrol, and Moravian Margrave John Henry on the basis of the latter’s assumed impotence that chroniclers inclined towards the Wittelsbachs claimed had prevented the consummation of the marriage established while they were both children.145 We do not know exactly how divorce was enacted, but it most probably lacked a religious form and ecclesiastical blessing. We could learn about its possible order in the text De iurisdictione imperatoris in causis matrimoniali­ bus by Marsilius of Padua, which was authored some time before February 10, 1342. In the work, Marsilius gives the emperor unlimited power to act in marital law without any concern for the jurisdiction of the church.146 Two documents attributed to Louis IV are part of this treatise. They include a verdict about the annulment of the marriage between Margaret and John Henry and 143 Chronicon Francisci Pragensis, edited by Jana Zachová, frb S. N. I. (Prague: Historický ústav AV ČR, 1997), pp. 8–9. 351. 144 Przibiconis de Radenin dicti Pulkavae Chronicon Bohemiae, ed. Josef Emler, frb V (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1893), p. 144. 145 Contemporary sources were analyzed by Wilhelm Baum, Margarete Maultasch. Ein Frauenschicksal im späten Mittelalter (Klagenfurt/Vienna: Kitab, 2004), p. 82–92. Recently Jürgen Miethke, “Die Eheaffäre der Margarete ‘Maultasch.’ Gräfin von Tirol (1341/1342). Ein Beispiel hochadeliger Familenpolitik im Spätmittelalter,” in Päpste, Pilger, Pönitentiarie. Festschrift für Ludwig Schmugge zum 65. Geburtstag, eds. Andreas Meyer, Constanze Rendtel and Maria Wittmer-Butsch (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer, 2004), pp. 353–91. 146 Dieter Schwab, Grundlagen und Gestalt der staatlichen Ehegesetzgebung in der Neuzeit (Bielefeld: E. und W. Gieseking, 1967), pp. 40–52. Recently to his topic see Baum, Margarete Maultasch, pp. 103–4; Miethke, “Die Eheaffäre der Margarete” pp. 379–83.

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a dispensation for the third degree of consanguinity between Margaret and her new husband, Louis’s son Louis V the Brandenburger. As these are only concepts whose author may have been Marsilius, it is likely they were constructed only in case of need. The exclusive power of the emperor to interfere in marital affairs was supported by the nominalist William of Ockham, who also was part of Louis’s court, in the treatise Consultatio de causa matriomoni­ ali. Ockham, like Marsilius, claims divorce and dispensation as lex humana fall under the emperor’s jurisdiction and give the emperor the power to declare a marriage invalid. According to Ockham, the only obstacle to the marriage of Margaret and Louis would be Margaret’s previous marriage. As the union with John Henry was invalid from its establishment because of impotence, there was no legal obstacle to her marriage to Louis. From a general point of view, it is much more important that Ockham declared any interference into marital affairs by the pope to be invalid. However, because of a lack of relevant sources, the actual legal situation of the annulment of Margaret and John Henry’s marriage as well as the status of her new marriage is unclear. The only thing we know is that Louis IV issued his consent for his son to marry Margaret without any regard to legal obstacles, including the existence of an earlier marriage doubted on the basis of John Henry’s impotence, and especially to the third degree of consanguinity between Margaret and his son as both had the same great-grandparents. According to contemporary practice, this obstacle could only have been removed by papal dispensation. We do not have any proof of a church trial that would have led to the annulment and it is most probable that no such proceedings took place at all. We also are almost certain that Pope Benedict XII was never asked to issue a dispensation and no conflict between John Henry and Margaret was ever adjudicated at the papal court. We only know of Benedict XII’s bull where he exhorts Margaret to return to her husband John Henry under pain of excommunication while also forbidding her from entering into a new marriage. This situation was reflected in the form of the wedding between Margaret and Louis V that took place on February 10, 1342 at Tirol Castle. The bishop of Freising, who was slated to perform the act, fell from his horse and died on his way to Tirol. According to the chroniclers, no other bishop wanted to participate in the exchange of vows after this inauspicious sign from God, so it is likely Emperor Louis IV performed the ceremony himself in the castle chapel. This was nothing unusual as lay people served as the officiates of weddings in lower social strata deep into the 15th century.147

147 For marriage ceremonies administered by laymen in the 15th century, see Peter Leisching, “Wege zur kirchlichen Trauung im mittelalterlichen Tirol,” in Idem, Beiträge zur Geschichte des mittelalterlichen Eherechts (Innsbruck: Wagner, 1978), p. 73–5.

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Bertrand, patriarch of Aquileia, was charged by Pope Benedict XII with leading the canonical trial about the annulment of the marriage and the establishment of a union without a papal dispensation of the third degree of consanguinity. In March, he declared an interdict over Tirol and excommunication on Margaret and her husband, who repeatedly refused to attend proceedings. However, the death of the Benedict XII in April 1342 extended the resolution of the case somewhat. The new pope, Clement VI, excommunicated Margaret, her new husband, and Marsilius of Padua together with Louis IV on April 12, 1343,148 declaring Margaret John Henry’s legal wife, calling her marriage to Louis incestuous and adulterous. Neither the annulment of the union by the emperor nor his dispensation were mentioned in the bull of excommunication, which could testify to the Curia not having exact information about how the divorce and dispensation were acquired and being dependent only on rumours making the rounds on European courts in association with this rather unusual affair. In the new political environment following the election of Charles IV as Holy Roman Emperor and the sudden death of Louis IV, initiatives from the Luxembourgers led to a renewal in proceedings. In 1346, John Henry asked the pope for his marriage to Margaret to be declared invalid (matrimonium ratum et non consumatum) from its establishment on the basis of fourth degree consanguinity that he was not aware of when the marriage was concluded. The pope actually charged Ulrich V, Bishop of Chur, and Betrand, Patriarch of Aquileia, with the investigation in 1348. According to the pope’s words, John Henry tried unsuccessfully for 10 years to consummate physically his marriage to Margaret, who wanted to have a child, which is why she married Louis V without church approval.149 In July 1349, Margaret’s representatives presented Ulrich, Bishop of Chur with her testimony that said she lived with John Henry for ten years and for three years they unsuccessfully attempted to achieve coitus (three years was the time bishops usually ordered couples to live together if they desired to separate because of impotence). According to Margaret, John Henry had been enchanted150 by her step-mother Margaret of Savoy, and thus intercourse could not take place. During the trial, Margaret admitted to marrying Louis V without church approval. In his defence, representatives of John Henry claimed he is capable of intercourse with other women (he already had an illegitimate son John at the time who later became the provost at Vyšehrad), and therefore wanted to re-marry to have legitimate children. Like Margaret, 148 Baum, Margarete Maultasch, p. 110. 149 CDM, vol. VII, 1334–1345, ed. Josef Chytil (Brno: Mährischer Landesausschuss, 1858) pp. 657–8, no. 936. Cf. also CDM, vol. VII, pp. 911–2, no. 358. 150 For details see Wiegand, “Zur mittelalterlichen kirchlichen Ehegerichtsbarkeit,” pp. 234–8.

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John Henry’s representatives also claimed the marriage was legally concluded, but never physically consummated. The bishop’s verdict has not survived to this day, so we do not know the actual legal reasoning that annulled the marriage. The necessary legitimization of the union of Louis V and Margaret (their third degree of consanguinity was irrefutable) came only many years later and was based on the effort to recognize the legitimacy of their children and heirs. The process was completed on September 1, 1359, when Pope Innocent IV’s commissioners first declared the marriage illegitimate. On the next day, when both received a dispensation on their consanguinity, they entered into a new, valid union.151 The interdict was then removed from Tirol and the Curia recognized the legitimate claims of their son Meinhard III of Gorizia-Tyrol, who did not enjoy his inheritance for long as he died young. While the divorces of Ottokar II and Moravian Margrave John Henry were filled with dramatic circumstances, many royal marriages that were never consummated were invalidated through diplomatic means even in spite of the objections of one of the parties, without orders to return to a cast-out wife, without interdicts, and without excommunication. That was exactly the case of the unconsummated marriage between Vladislaus II and Barbara of Brandenburg, the daughter of Brandenburg Elector Albrecht III Achilles.152 The couple never met in person. The marriage was established per procurationem in Ansbach in the fall of 1476 when the bride, already a widow, was only 12 years of age. From that moment, preparations on both sides began at their usual pace. Barbara had a wedding dress made in Venice and her father prepared a lavish trousseau as was the norm of the time.153 When negotiators agreed to present the bride on the territorial border in Cheb and to organize the wedding celebration on February 7, 1477 in Prague with Vladislaus’s father, King of Poland Casimir in attendance, it appeared there was nothing to prevent the marriage from happening. However, the opposite soon proved to be true. Matthias Corvinus gave the Duchy of Głogow, which was to be Barbara’s dowry, in fief to the brother of her dead husband. In the given political climate, there was little hope that Vladislaus would be able to take control of this territory. There was hesitation not only with the King of Bohemia, but within the Czech estates as well. They did not take the marriage concluded per procurationem seriously and sought a 151 Baum, Margarete Maultasch, pp. 167–170; Miethke, “Die Eheaffäre der Margarete,” pp. 388–9. 152 For details on this marriage see Macek, Jagellonský věk, vol. 1, pp. 206–10. 153 Politische Correspondenz des Kurfürsten Albrecht Achilles, vol. 2, ed. Felix Priebatsch (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1897), pp. 262, 267, 271.Vladislaus II of Hungary also had a wedding dress purchased for his wife Anna in Venice 25 years later, Macek, Tři ženy, p. 160.

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new wife for their king in Burgundy and even Mantua. According to Albrecht Achilles’s agent at the Prague court, bets were being placed in the royal office that Vladislaus would never marry Barbara with advantageous odds for the doubters: 10 to 1 against the marriage.154 If Czech nobles did not intend to take canon law seriously, for which the religious situation in a country of two faiths offered fertile ground, then the Catholic king had to act differently. Contrary to many other crowned heads, he did not choose a long conflict at the papal court and turned to passive resistance. He probably never requested annulment with the 12-year-old Barbara in Rome and made no effort to resolve his status until 1490 when the Hungarian estates de facto forced him to marry Beatrice of Naples, the widow of Matthias Corvinus. Barbara styled herself Queen of Bohemia and her father lobbied in Rome and among his political allies, especially his brother-in-law Duke Henry I of Münsterberg-Oels, in a futile attempt to change Vladislaus’s stance. (figure 2.4)

Figure 2.4 Woodcut – Secret Marriage 154 This information was relayed to the Saxon Elector by Zikmund Holko. See Urkundliche Nachträge zur österreichisch  – deutsche Geschichte im Zeitalter Kaiser Friedrich III., ed. Adolf Bachmann (Vienna: Carl Gerold’s Sohn, 1892), p. 413, no. 410.

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The king’s resistance was successful. In 1483, Pope Innocent VIII had no idea whether Vladislaus was married or not and had to ask the Archbishop of Esztergom. Even when he discovered that Vladislaus was married, he only formally acted in 1487 when he ordered the King of Bohemia to take Barbara to Prague and physically consummate the marriage.155 Nothing of the kind happened, however, and the Curia was silent until 1490 when Vladislaus married Beatrice in Esztergom.156 The King of Bohemia approached this marriage pragmatically, however. Before the wedding, he composed a statement saying he had been forced into the marriage and did not consider it valid as he was married and thus could not enter into another union,157 not to mention that Beatrice is infertile and thus ineligible for marriage. The wedding ceremony itself took place almost in secret and Vladislaus and Beatrice did not appear in public as a couple. But a twist in 1491 complicated the entire case. According to witnesses, the king physically consorted with Beatrice several times in Esztergom. However, as the infertile widow could not hold on to him and because the Hungarian nobility started to turn on the union they had forced on the king only a few months before, Vladislaus, possibly after some hesitation, finally repudiated Beatrice. She defended herself at the Curia, but for naught. On January 8, 1493, a bizarre meeting of the papal consistory took place where Neapolitan representatives claimed marriage vows had been exchanged and the union consummated, which Vladislaus’s representatives denied. Pope Alexander VI eventually sided with the Neapolitans and called on the king of Bohemia and Hungary to fulfil his marital obligations. Vladislaus continued to insist on his claims and refused to live with Beatrice in the subsequent years, considering the marriage to be invalid. A final decision came on April 3, 1500, when the pope annulled both the marriage to Beatrice and to Barbara. For this ruling, Vladislaus and Hungarian nobles allegedly paid the pope 30,000 Hungarian gold pieces and each member of the consistory received 2,000 gold pieces.158 What is noteworthy about both marriages and divorces is that Vladislaus did not undertake any special efforts for their annulment and only defended himself against the efforts of both “wives” to uphold their rights at the papal court. Vladislaus and his advisors suspected that canon law was not in his favour in either case as one marriage was concluded per procurationem and the other per 155 Politische Correspondenz des Kurfürsten Albrecht Achilles, vol. 3, ed. Felix Priebatsch (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1898), p. 513. 156 I follow here the description of Macek, Jagellonský věk, vol. 1, pp. 211–2; Macek, Tři ženy, pp. 103–30. 157 Macek, Tři ženy, p. 109. 158 Macek, Tři ženy, p. 125.

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verba de presenti and was consummated by intercourse. That is possibly why he chose resistance. The truth is he did not have the resources to fund expensive legal cases, which in the end were paid for by the Hungarian nobles who oversaw his reign. Vladislaus’s actions to a great extent contradict the established idea of subjugating all matrimonial and dynastic policies to assuring the continuation of the dynasty. A 20-year-old man married a 12-year-old girl in 1476, but immediately gives up on the union after it is formally established. Then he lives without an heir for 14 years, and only marries another woman who is known to be infertile in 1490. He does not try to resolve his marriage for the next 10 years and does not seek a new bride and a potential mother for the possible future heir to two kingdoms. However, Vladislaus’s behaviour was the exception for the time. Divorces in the form of declaring the marriage invalid from its establishment were understood in the Middle Ages as a purely political act, which is wholly accurate for the Czech environment of the 13th and 14th centuries. Sovereigns and high-level aristocrats used the tactic when they did not have a male heir after several years of cohabitation. From the point of view of canon law, the marriage could only be annulled because of incest: a consensual union created between a man and woman related either by blood or spiritually. This was not changed by the Fourth Council of the Lateran. Even the fourth degree of consanguinity offered an excuse to use relations forbidden by canon law as a formal obstacle to already-established marriages. Papal interference into marital conflicts and the annulment of existing marriages were conditioned from the 11th century by the idea of sovereign papal authority and by the growing establishment of papal dispensation rights beginning at the turn of the 12th and 13th centuries. The full and unassailable development of these powers only came during the pontificate of Innocent IV. Divorce as a tactic, as a method of conflict resolution, or as a tool to alter dynastic and matrimonial policies played a significant role in the aristocratic environment long before that. The development of its significance and the spread of its practical use was associated with the general establishment of ideas of monogamy and marriage as an institution that was dissolvable only in exceptional and more or less precisely defined cases based on the regulations of canon law. The period between the end of the 10th century to the beginning of the 13th century is not only the age of the sacralization of matrimony, but to the same degree, also the age of the sacralization of separation and divorce. In comparison to weddings, coronations, feudal oaths, ceremonial welcomes of sovereigns in cities, or funerals, the declaration of the dissolution of a marriage never had a sophisticated ritual form. Its establishment was prevented by the fact that annulments lacked a manifest character because they expressed

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a darker page of the king’s past that should be suppressed or even blocked out, ideally with a new marriage. Divorce, which divided the one body of man and woman into two could also not be manifested because it created new conflicts that were influenced by both lay and ecclesiastic authorities. Even their successful resolution, prevented by the ever-increasing complexity and ponderousness of canon-law practice, did not wash away all the emotions of inadequacy and negative passions left among the parties to the marital legal proceedings from the very partisan testimonies of witnesses.

…

Marriage was among the most significant expression of the representation of sovereign power in the aristocratic environment of the late Middle Ages. However, Czech chroniclers left us with only few reports about the wedding celebrations of the Kings of Bohemia and their offsprings. Even the simple recordings of the events we use as a basis for our suppositions rather clearly show there was no established or even a normative ritual dictated by courtly rites for officiating a wedding in the Czech lands. Everything depended on the specific situation, the level of communication with the ruling houses, the level of mimicking older or foreign examples, and even on the adoption of popular trends that in reality created momentarily very variable formulas for courtly life. In the aristocratic world of the late Middle Ages, establishing a marriage became an ecclesiastic ritual with the onset of exchanging marriage vows in facie ecclesiae and in the presence of a priest who often officiated the ceremony, and chiefly in the blessing of already-established marriages, the benediction of the rings and the marriage bed, or the blessing of the bride after the first night of marriage. Not all the Church’s efforts had the goal of stripping marriage of its worldly nature. The Church only wanted to give the exchange of marital vows the most solemn form possible, which would symbolically increase the sacred nature of matrimony in the eyes of the lay public. Despite these efforts, establishing a marriage in royal or ducal families remained an almost exclusively worldly matter where the deciding factors were the ideas and desires of sovereigns that suppressed free will in the selection of a partner. The wedding celebration itself was more ceremony than ritual. The central acts of royal weddings directed toward the public did not involve the religious blessing of a matrimonial union, but the physical consummation (possibly only symbolic), ceremonial feasts, dances, and tournaments where the ruling house could display its glory in the most spectacular form. The organisation of feasts, seating orders, the serving of the newlyweds by nobles on horseback, dances in public

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spaces, and chivalric tournaments were directed by certain, oftentimes local traditions and acquired a generally accepted form only in the second half of the 15th century. They remained lay courtly celebrations and ceremonies that certainly did not have the character of an ecclesiastical sacralisation ritual and were only directed by more or less ritualised behaviour. In this respect, they did not differ from wedding celebrations in other social strata of medieval society where the lay character was even more underlined by a very reluctant acceptance of the marriage being established before the eyes of the Church.

Chapter 3

The Last Moments, Funerals, and Graves of the Bohemian Kings František Šmahel Death makes no exceptions, even for presidents, kings, and emperors. The Prague depiction of the Dance macabre from 1441 is one of the oldest in Europe, and it leaves no doubt about the fate of sovereigns. One of them, possibly Sigismund of Luxembourg, tries to explain to Death that as a king and emperor he is entitled to the indulgences of the mortal world. Death, however, counters with the words: “You ruled over nations, now you are food for worms.”1 How did the Czech kings of the high and late medieval period die? Of the 12 rulers of Bohemia between 1306 and 1526, two died a heroic death in battle. John of Luxembourg fell at the Battle of Crécy on August 26, 1346, meeting death head-on. On the other hand, Louis II of Hungary (Jagiellon) ended up dead, robbed, and naked in a field at the Battle of Mohács on August 29, 1526. Three Czech kings died while on campaign, two of them of dysentery. Rudolf I Habsburg died after nine months on the throne on July 3, 1307, in the camp outside Horažďovice. Albert II Habsburg breathed his last in Neszmély (Dlouhá Ves), halfway between Esztregom, and Komárno, on October 27, 1439, while returning from an unsuccessful campaign against the Turks. The Czech and Hungarian king Matthias Corvinus passed away on April 6, 1490 in a recently conquered Vienna. The elected but never-crowned Henry of Bohemia, who was twice expelled from the Czech lands, lost the crown in 1310, but died only on April 5, 1335 at his estate in Tyrol. He was denied royal honours and has relinquished them himself, so we will not be bothering with his grave in the Stams Cistercian Abbey.2 Ladislaus Posthumous was crowned in Prague 1 To the iconography of the Dance macabre in the ms Prague, Archiv Pražského hradu, Knihovna Metropolitní kapituly (hereafter APH KMK) A 135/2, fol. 524r see Alexander Patschovsky, “Totentanz, hussitische Revolution und Prager Universität,” in Pocta prof. JUDr. Karlu Malému, DrSc., k 65. narozeninám, eds. Ladislav Soukup et al. (Prague: Karolinum, 1955), pp. 144–65, here p. 160: (Emperor:) “Sum rex et imperator / et deliciarum amator.” (Death:) “Olim imperabas gentibus, iam es superatus a vermibus.” 2 See the comprehensive biography by Robert Antonín, “Jindřich Korutanský,” in Čeští králové, eds. Marie Ryantová and Petr Vorel (Prague/Litomyšl: Paseka, 2008), pp. 155–68. The Stams

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004514010_005

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cathedral, but died before he could assume personal rule. He was not yet 18 years old when he died on November 23, 1457, and his sudden death was suspicious to some contemporaries, remaining so despite its cause being believably explained.3 The remaining Czech kings that died either at their residences or among their loved ones lived to a rather old age. Sigismund of Luxembourg was nearly 70 when he died in Znojmo on December 9, 1437. His father Charles IV was 62 when he passed on November 29, 1378. Wenceslas IV was 58 upon his death on August 16, 1419. Vladislaus II died at the age of 60 on March 13, 1516, while John of Luxembourg and Matthias Corvinus were 10 years younger. Albert II was the unfortunate one of the group, living only to the age of 42. This brief survey shows the difficulty in compiling their last moments, funerals, processions, grave preparations, posthumous ceremonies, and other memorials that followed the death of the Czech sovereigns. Each king has a different story, but there are commonalities that can be noted in the conclusion. 1

Rudolf I and the Funeral Insignia of the Czech Kings

The death of the 25-year-old King Rudolf surprised his allies while pleasing others. Do not cry for him, appealed the chronicler Dalimil “Czech children,” saying Czechs “elect their murderer as prince.”4 Another contemporary chronicler, the Zbraslav chaplain and later abbot Peter of Zittau, had the opposite opinion and he was privy to more information as Cistercian abbots played a significant role in the events to be discussed. He recorded that the dying king called for Heidenreich and Konrád, the respective abbots of the Sedlec and Zbraslav monasteries, to take down his last will and to perform certain religious acts as was expected of a king trying to be worthy of God’s forgiveness. The abbots arrived to find the king still alive, but he was able to speak only a few words.5 The testament did not survive, but it was recorded in history, as is what happened to Rudolf’s corpse. Chronicler Francis of Prague, who disliked

monastery is listed as his last resting place by Heinz Dopsch, “Heinrich VI.,” in Lexikon des Mittelalters, vol. IV (Munich/Zürich: Artemis, 1989), col. 2070–1. 3 See Josef Macek, “Smrt Ladislava Pohrobka,” ČsČH 14 (1966), pp. 766–75. 4 Staročeská kronika tak řečeného Dalimila, eds. Jiří Daňhelka et al. (Prague: Academia, 1988), pp. 476–7. 5 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, ed. Josef Emler, frb IV (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1884), p. 111.

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Rudolf for what he saw as the damage he inflicted on the “Czech” nation and especially on the Prague chapter, explained Rudolf’s death from dysentery as God’s punishment.6 After the king’s death, Henry of Rožmberk allegedly had Bavor of Strakonice, the lord of the besieged Horažďovice, brought to the dark tent that contained the body of the dead Rudolf, which appeared as though the monarch were still alive. Bavor, out of fear of the king, gave up his castle Zvíkov.7 Peter of Zittau recorded that Rudolf was buried in Prague in the centre of the cathedral (in medio ecclesie) and the funeral was presided over by the Zbraslav abbot. Both of these claims deserve closer scrutiny. Primarily, it is strange that the abbot did not work to have the king buried at Zbraslav to earn the prestige that accompanied a royal burial site.8 That at least would seem to be the case as exemplified in the chronicler’s complaint that the murdered Wenceslas III would have chosen to be buried at Zbraslav if he had been able to express his wishes before his death.9 This was also the case with Rudolf, who was known as King Porridge for his very spartan lifestyle. The cathedral was chosen because it was both dignified and corresponded to family traditions. The king’s uncle and son of Roman King Rudolf, Duke Rudolf II Habsburg, was interred in the cathedral in 1290. Seven years later, his sister Queen Judith Habsburg, the first wife of Wenceslas II and the founder of the Zbraslav abbey, was also buried in the crypt after her death on June 18, 1297 as there was no appropriate space for her grave at Zbraslav. (figure 3.1)

6 Josef Šusta, “Smrt krále Rudolfa,” Lumír 44 (1916), pp. 153–8. On the contemporary opinion about the nature of the illness see Josef Šusta, Soumrak Přemyslovců a jejich dědictví (České dějiny II/1) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1935), p. 716, n. 1. 7 Chronicon Francisci Pragensis, ed. Jana Zachová, frb S. N. I (Prague: Historický ústav AV ČR, 1997), p. 51; Šusta, Soumrak Přemyslovců, pp. 716–7, considered the story reliable as it’s confirmed by the lien for Zvíkov issued by Rudolf a day after his death on July 4, 1307, see Regesta diplomatica nec non epistoralia Bohemiae et Moraviae, vol. II. (1253–1310), ed. Josef Emler (Prague: Karel K. Erben, 1882), p. 919, no. 2133. 8 See Klára Benešovská, “Aula Regia près de Prague et Mons regalis près de Paris,”, Cîteaux 47 (1996), pp. 231–45; Jiří Kuthan, “Pohřebiště českých knížat a králů z rodu Přemyslovců,” in Splendor et gloria Regni Bohemiae, ed. Jiří Kuthan (Prague: Katolicko teologická fakulta University Karlovy, 2008), pp. 20–6; and Milena Bravermanová  – Michal Lutovský, Hroby, hrobky a pohřebiště českých knížat a králů (Prague: Libri, 2001), pp. 35–9. 9 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 109. Wenceslas III found his last resting place in the Zbraslav monastery 20 years later when Queen Elizabeth of Bohemia had him re-buried next to their father on Oct 3, 1326 (ibidem, p. 280).

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Figure 3.1 The Funeral insignia of King Rudolf I of Habsburg made of a gold-plated silver metal. Made in Prague after 1307

We know that King Rudolf of Habsburg was buried in the middle of the Romanesque cathedral, probably in a crypt that contained the remains of his family. The king’s widow, Elizabeth Richeza of Poland, commissioned an altar to Simon and Jude sometime before 1319 to aid her second husband Rudolf’s soul.10 We assume the altar was moved to a new chapel at the south end of the extended chancel in 1368 at the latest and dedicated to the same saints. In accordance with posthumous traditions, Emperor Charles IV ordered two graves created on the right side of the chapel in 1373. They became the final resting place for the remains of all three Habsburgs. This fact, recorded by the Prague church chronicler Benessius Krabice of Weitmile, the third director of the construction of St. Vitus Cathedral, was lost for centuries, possibly in part because the chapel was dedicated to the Holy Cross. This reliable testimony records that the grave on the left-hand side contained the remains of Queen Judith, while the one on the right contained the body of King Rudolf and that of an Austrian duke of the same name.11

10 11

The first husband of Richeza was the Czech King Wenceslas II, who died 1305. Chronicler Benessius of Weitmile claims King Rudolf lay on the eastern side of the double grave with his uncle on western side, see Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, ed. Josef Emler, frb IV (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1884), pp. 547–8.

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The remains were spared undignified disturbances until they were discovered at the end of May 1870. Although the graves were anthropologically and historically examined for the first time in 1872 and then again in March 1929 and December 1991, certain findings obfuscated the situation rather than provide answers. Setting aside the skeletal remains, the wealth of the burial items is noteworthy. This includes a lead plaque originally attached to the wooden coffin with the following Latin text: “Hic iacet Rudolphus dux / Avstrie filius Alberti regis / Romanorum, dictus Cassye. – Here lies Rudolf, Austrian Duke, son of Albert, Roman King, dubbed Porrige.”12 Researchers were more surprised by the burial insignia, which included the crown, sceptre, and orb. The gilded silver crown, 132mm high with a diameter of 192mm, was made by combining 8 pieces in a low ring. The four wider pieces are finished with lilies on top, while the narrower parts placed opposite each other are adorned with crosses at the top. The crown’s rigidity comes from two arched connecting pieces that have a relief of the Virgin Mary at their intersecting point.13 The six-sided hollow sceptre measures 634mm and is capped by a flower with six petals cut from metal: three bent down and three reaching high holding a sphere. The orb with a diameter of 117mm and a height of 127mm was created by fusing two metal balls combined using repoussé. A cross with arms of equal length also made of silver was affixed to the top.14 It is noteworthy that the first and oldest grave studied in this chapter contained the most complete set of burial insignia along with other items while also being rather well-preserved. The insignia made of 1 kilogram of silver covered in gold were obviously quite expensive. It is also noteworthy that the order to make these duplicate insignia was probably awarded to Prague jeweller Konrád, who had made similar, but more expensive burial insignia for the grave of King Ottokar II ten years before. Emanuel Poche noted the quality of the work and expressed the hypothesis that these were replicas of the real insignia that both kings used during their daily tasks as sovereign.15 It is hard 12 13

14 15

Emanuel Poche, “Zwei böhmische Königskronen,” Umění 26 (1978), pp. 481–2, expressed the assumption that the text exchanged the titles with the King’s uncle. The description adheres to Jaromír Homolka, “Umělecké řemeslo v době posledních Přemyslovců”, in Umění doby posledních Přemyslovců (Prague: Středočeské muzeum, 1962), p. 152, as well as older works. The geometric shape is formed by the symmetric placement of four curved or arched archs with a central square or diamond. Bravermanová  – Lutovský, Hroby, hrobky a pohřebiště, pp. 184–5, for a newer comparison of the measurements of the items, see Milena Bravermanová, “Hroby králů a jejich příbuzných na Pražském hradě”, Castrum Pragense 7 (2005), pp. 53–88, at p. 57. Poche, “Zwei böhmische Königskronen,” p. 482. See also Homolka, “Umělecké řemeslo,” pp. 149–50, here two reproductions.

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to believe that later Czech kings, much more significant than the frugal Rudolf “Porridge,” would provide us with only wooden facsimiles. These feudal insignia were imitations of the crown jewels that were commemoratively displayed on an anniversary of the death of Přemyslid rulers.16 The same was true for anniversaries of royal deaths after 1353. Many imitations of the insignia may have thus been readily available in the cathedral.17 There is no mention of John of Luxembourg’s burial insignia, which does not mean that they were not in his first grave in the Benedictine Münsterabtei in Luxembourg. King John was constantly travelling and thus it is possible he carried some sort of insignia with him. If this is not the case, it is hard to believe that insignia made of precious metals could have been produced in the hectic 12 days between his death in battle and his funeral. That would suggest wooden insignia were used in his funeral, which is what we encounter in the graves of other Czech kings beginning with John’s son Charles IV. It seems unthinkable that such cheap imitations were used in the burial of such a universally respected emperor as Charles IV, but as only fragments of a wooden crown were found during the last opening of Charles’s tomb, it is likely that contemporaries believed worthless stones coloured gold and wooden insignia were enough to symbolize the emperor’s majesty.18 According to extensive testimony from a German eyewitness included in a chronicle of the years 1368–1406 written by an unknown Augsburg chronicler19

16

17 18

19

Emanuel Poche, “Na okraj Cibulkových ‘Korunovačních klenotů,’” Umění 19 (1971), pp. 296–304; Poche, “Zwei böhmische Königskronen,” pp. 481–94; Jan Frolík, “Insignes funèbres des sépultures des Rois de Bohême dans la cathédrale Saint-Guy du Château de Prague,” in Památky archeologické 83 (1992) (L’archeologie et la culture spirituelle du Moyen Age III), pp. 159–64. Inexpensive copies of the insignia used in funerals were only the outer attributes of sovereignty and thus had no legitimacy. On copies of insignia used in the coronations of Roman kings and emperors see Jürgen Petersohn, “‘Echte’ und ‘falsche’ Insignien im deutschen Krönungsgebrauch des Mittelalters? Kritik eines Fotschungsstereotyps”, Sitzungsberichte der wiss. Gesellschaft an der J.W. Goethe Universität Frankfurt am Main 30/3 (Stuttgart: Wissenschaftliche Gesellschaft an der Johann-Wolfgan g-Goethe-Universität, 1993), p. 94. Evidence of this below in note 68. Knowledge of funeral insignia was summarised by Bravermanová, “Hroby králů,” pp. 72–4. For comparison see Frolík, “Insignes funèbres,” pp. 161–4. It’s not likely the original insignia were replaced during one of the many times the remains were moved. A testimony from 1743 about worthless colourful stones on a wooden crown is cited by Bravermanová and Lutovský, Hroby, hrobky a pohřebiště, pp. 187–8. Augsburger Chronik von 1368–1406, ed. Ferdinand Frensdorf, (Die Chroniken der deutschen Städte vom 14. bis ins 16. Jahrhundert IV. Die Chroniken der schwäbischen Städte I)

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that became better known after Burkard Zink published its copy,20 Charles’s body rested on a bier in gold and purple trousers and a purple cloak. We will discuss burial clothes later, but at this point we should note that the crown of Lombardy lay to the right of Charles’s head, the crown of the Holy Roman Empire was placed above his head, and the Czech crown was to the left. As the king had a crown representing his majesty on his head, these must have bene the burial insignia and probably the aforementioned, gold-coloured wooden crowns. The imperial sceptre was placed to his right as were the orb and an unsheathed sword.21 The Emperor, wrapped in robes of gold brocade, was placed inside the tin coffin, itself a rather new invention,22 with replicas of the royal insignia, a cavalry shield, and an imperial military standard with the eagle’s head facing down.23 Fragments of gold-coloured wooden burial insignia were found in the coffins of Ladislaus Posthumous and George of Poděbrady. Parts of a wooden sceptre, orb, and a wooden cross were found in the grave of the former in 1928. Their condition today is very poor and typical in light of the constant movement of the royal remains: only an unidentifiable gold-coloured wooden fragment remains. Several more fragments of the wooden sceptre and possibly the crown survived in the grave of King George.24 The fragmentation of the wooden insignia may not be just a result of age and gradual decomposition. According to the trustworthy testimony of the Wrocław manuscript of the so-called Old Czech Chronicles, the royal seal was broken and destroyed after the funeral, as

20 21

22

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(Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1865). The independent piece Wie caiser Karel starb (only in the Berlin manuscript A) is on pp. 59–63. Cf. “Excerpta boica ex Burckardi Zenggii Chronico Augustano,” ed. Andreas Felix Oefelius, in Rerum Boicarum Scriptores nusquam antehac editi, Tomus I (Augsburg: Adam & Veith, 1763), pp. 258–9. According to František Kavka, Am Hofe Karls IV. (Leipzig: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1989), p. 121, imperial jewels were laid on pillows around the catafaulque and reliquaries with the remains of saints were displayed nearby. This supposition could not be confirmed, but it is very likely. The bodies of the přemyslid monarchs were placed in wooden containers that were probably hammered shut with nails. See a comparison in Kateřina Tomková, “Pohřební ritus na Pražském hradě a jeho předpolích ve středověku a novověku – charakteristika a vývoj”, Castrum Pragense 7 (2005), pp. 159–96, here p. 185. The first French king to rest in a tin coffin was Charles VI in 1422 – see Ralph E. Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais. Les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance (Paris: Flammarion, 1987), p. 63, note 49. All according to Augsburger Chronik von 1368–1406, p. 62. The current state was mapped by Bravermanová and Lutovský, Hroby, hrobky a pohřebiště, pp. 188–9, which also includes the report from 1743 about the metal cross in Ladislaus Posthumous’s coffin.

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was the orb and sceptre, and his sword was also interred.25 Wooden insignia were also probably used in the funeral of Vladislaus II Jagiellon in Prague’s Old Town on Monday, March 31, 1516, which we will describe in greater detail later. Here, we need only mention the partial commentary in the three manuscripts (“K”, “L” and “O”) of the Old Czech Chronicles, which states the royal insignia were carried in procession: the butcher Ziga Vaníčkovic carried the royal standard, Master John Pašek carried the “wooden sword covered in silver,” Mayor George Hrdina held the crown, John Hlavsa the sceptre on the right side and John Nastojte with the “orb on black taffeta” on the other.26 The reported burial insignia of Emperor Sigismund of Luxembourg may have been a return to older traditions when silver was not replaced with wood. They were discovered in 1755 while building a well in the inner courtyard of the fortress built on the former location of the Oradea cathedral destroyed by the Turks. Sigismund of Luxembourg, who ordered his final moments be full of majesty and include the crown jewels, was interred into this former crypt of Hungarian monarchs at the end of 1437. The originals were not placed into the grave, a process overseen by his successor Albert II Habsburg who accompanied the body of his deceased father-in-law first to Székesfehérvár and then on to Oradea.27 The items found in the excavation caused quite a stir. The first worth noting was a fragment of a silver gold-coloured crown with painted lilies and red and green stones. It was accompanied by a rather deformed silver orb with a diameter of 940mm and a total height of 176mm with a Latin Cross at its top, and later the badge of Sigismund’s Order of the Dragon. It is this component that would seem to confirm the connection to Sigismund’s burial. We will now leave these insignia as they cannot be reliably associated with Sigismund’s grave in the critical historiography.28

25 26 27 28

Cf. Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, ed. František Šimek (Prague: Historický spolek, 1937), p. 121. Staří letopisové čeští od roku 1378 do 1527, ed. František Palacký (Prague: J.H. Pospíšil, 1829), pp. 397–8. Copies had to be used in his funeral as well, as in Rudolf, Meyer, Königs- und Kaiser­ begräbnisse im Spätmittelalter. Von Rudolf von Habsburg bis zu Friedrich III. (Cologne/ Weimar/Vienna: Böhlau, 2000), p. 163. On the location of Sigismund’s grave inside the Oradea (Nagyvárad) cathedral, see Terézia Kerny, “Begräbnis und Begräbnisstätte von König Sigismund” in Sigismundus rex et imperator. Kunst und Kultur zur Zeit Sigismunds von Luxemburg 1387–1437 (Budapest/ Luxembourg: von Zabern, 2006), pp. 475–9; on the funeral insignia allegedly from Sigismund’s grave see the catalogue entry of Imre Takács, pp. 94–5, num. I. 3 (“Bruchstück einer Krone”) and I. 4 (“Reichsapfel”).

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The Unfulfilled Last Will of King John of Luxembourg

Preparing for death was an unwritten obligation for all good Christians, but especially for brave knights who could leave the battlefield for the afterlife at seemingly any moment. The Czech King John of Luxembourg took that important step six years before his death on a field near Bouvines before a battle with the English forces that had laid siege to Tournai. He had a good reason to do so, as six months before he had to come to grips with complete and incurable blindness. On Saturday, September 9, 1340 he took down his last testament, expressing the wish to be buried in the Clairefontaine Cistercian abbey no matter where he was to die.29 He bequeathed an annual rent of 50 tournois livre to the abbey for spoken and choral masses to be held on the anniversary of his death. The cloister was the family abbey of the Dukes of Luxembourg and thus had an important symbolic value as a burial site. In light of John’s first wife Elisabeth († 1330) and children being buried at Zbraslav, it is possible that in his last testament John felt more like the Duke of Luxembourg than the King of Bohemia. We also cannot rule out the influence of his second wife Beatrice Bourbon and the interests of her son Wenceslas.30 King John’s death at Crécy on August 26, 1346 was the personification of the contemporary ideal of a hero’s death. He earned the admiration of contemporaries for even participating in the battle. However, the doubts of some historians are expressed by Jiří Spěváček: “His continued life of blindness has lost meaning. That is why he voluntarily ended it in his last battle.”31 If this is true, why did he not do so sooner? In the end, the speculation does not matter as he refused to leave and the chronicler Benessius Krabice of Weitmile recorded John as saying the noble sentiment: “God willing, the Czech King shall never 29

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The document states: “Sepulturam corporis nostri eligimus in monasterio monialium de Claro Fonte, ord. Cister. Trevirensis diecesis prope Arlunum, ad quod monasterium corpus nostrum, ubicumque mori nos contingeret, ordinamus et volumus apportari et ibidem sepeliri.” See Regesta diplomatica nec non epistoralia Bohemiae et Moraviae IV (1253–1310), ed. Josef Emler (Prague: Karel K. Erben, 1892), p. 320, no. 819. I accept with a bit of embarrassment the description published by Michel Margue, “‘Regum de stirpe’  – Le prince et son image: Donations, fondations et sépultures des Luxembourg dans leurs terres d’origine (première moitié du XIV e siècle),” in King John of Luxembourg (1296–1346) and the Art of His Era, ed. Klára Benešovská (Prague: Koniasch Latin Press, 1998), pp. 100–16, here pp. 106–7. Jiří Spěváček, Král diplomat. Jan Lucemburský 1296–1346 (Prague: Svoboda, 1982), p. 245. The pros and cons were delicately examined by Lenka Bobková, Velké dějiny zemí Koruny české, vol. IVa: 1310–1402 (Prague/Litomyšl: Paseka, 2003), p. 207, which states that as a Christian, John did not take his own life, but merely took the option on offer. See also note 241 for further literature.

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flee from the battle.”32 In the chronicles by Jean Froissart, we see that when the order to attack was given “he asked where his son Charles was. His guides said they do not know, but that he was probably fighting somewhere. The king then said: “Gentlemen, today you are all my friends and brothers in arms. That is why I ask of you, as I myself am blind, lead me into the fray so that I have enemies within reach of my sword.” The knights agreed and because they did not want to lose him in the battle, they lashed the reins of their horses together. They then moved the king ahead slightly according to his wishes and he advanced upon the English. The Czech Lord Charles, who had already become the Roman king and travelled with the associated insignia, joined him on the battlefield as was fitting. When he saw the situation had turned against the French, he left the battle. His father the King charged the enemy’s lines and fought very bravely as did his attendants, but they had advanced too far, and they were all killed on the spot. They were found dead the next morning with their horses still tied together.”33 We should not take this testimony as the whole truth. Froissart claims John of Luxembourg died in a manner expected of a leading and generally well-known representative of the waning chivalric era.34 Right after the battle, the English Prince Edward III ordered the heralds to bring all the dead magnates and knights to one place and to create a list of their names. Czech King John of Luxembourg was the first on that list as the most important of them all. Because of the August heat, Eduard ordered the body of the dead king taken to the nearby Maintenay priory where surgery was performed. His entrails were sewed into a leather pouch and buried in the Valloires Cistercian abbey, while the heart and the embalmed body were delivered by the English heralds to John’s successor on the Bohemian throne, his son 32

33 34

Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, p. 341: “Absit, ut rex Bohemiae fleret.” On the English campaign and the Battle of Crécy see also Henri de Wailly, Crécy, 1346. Anatomy of a Battle (Poole: Blandford Press, 1987), The Battle of Crecy, 1346, eds. Andrew Ayton and Sir Philip Preston (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2005) and recently Richard Barber, Edward III and the Triumph of England: The Battle of Crécy and the Company of the Garter (London: Penguin Books, 2013). Chroniques de J. Froissart, vol. 3 (1342–1346), ed. Siméon Luce (Paris: Renouard, 1872), p. 178. Michel Margue, “Jean de Luxembourg, prince idéal et chevalier parfait: aux origines d’un mythe,” Mediaevalia historica Bohemica 5 (1998), pp. 11–26, here 19–22. On the same topic without knowledge of the previous study, see Jana Fantysová-Matějková, “Jak se tvoří mýtus. Froissartova líčení smrti Johna Lucemburského v bitvě u Kresčaku,” in Ve znamení zemí Koruny české. Sborník k šedesátým narozeninám prof. PhDr. Lenky Bobkové, CSc., edited by Luděk Březina, Jana Konvičná, and Jan Zdichynec (Prague: Casablanca, 2006), pp. 545–58.

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Charles, who had retreated with the French king to Amiens. While recovering from his wounds in the Ourscamp abbey near Nyon Charles opened negotiations with the Dominican cloister in Montargis, which had temporarily housed the body of his beloved aunt Marie, his father’s sister and the wife of French King Charles IV, in 1324. After an agreement, the details of which are unknown, the heart of King John was interred there until the French Revolution when the remains were destroyed along with a memorial that tradition claims included the Czech and Luxembourger coats of arms.35 Regardless of Charles’s intentions, he could not satisfy his father’s will considering the contemporary situation. The generosity of the English prince allowed for a dignified burial, but the heat was a significantly limiting factor. That is why John’s entrails at first seemingly temporarily and later permanently remained in Valloires, while Charles had to decide the fate of the other remains. He allowed the heart to be buried in Montargis, while he ordered the embalmed body taken to Luxembourg and buried in the Alt-Münster Benedictine abbey near the city walls. The procession arrived in Luxembourg on September 7, 1346, 12 days after the battle. Mathias of Neuenburg’s account said the English king allegedly ordered the cart be pulled by or be accompanied by 12 war horses (destriers) adorned with the Czech coat of arms.36 We should note in association with the participation of horses in the funerals of the high aristocracy, which we will discuss further below, that Charles purchased two fast horses (coursiers), but we do not know whether they became a votive gift to the abbey. Charles needed funds to give his father a dignified burial. He acquired a rather impressive sum of 677 schilds from his councillor and banker Arnold of Arlon, which only covered expenses for the funeral itself, the wake, and the needs of the party.37 It is not known whether Charles was actually present for his father’s funeral at the beginning of October 1346. There are also doubts about the date a massive marble headstone was installed, showing the fallen hero accompanied by 50 knights who died along with him at Crécy. Later accounts of its appearance are indirectly confirmed by two documents from 1384 where 35

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Information about the funeral of John of Luxembourg was supplemented and in places newly interpreted by Michel Margue, “‘Fecit Carolus ducere patrem suum in patriam suam.’ Die Überlieferung zu Bestattung und Grab Johanns des Blinden,” in Grabmäler der Luxemburger. Image und Memoria eines Kaiserhauses, ed. Michael V. Schwarz (Luxembourg: Cludem, 1997), pp. 79–96, here pp. 86–90. Mathias von Neuenburg, Chronik, ed. Adolf Hofmeister, mgh SRG NS IV (Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1924–1940), p. 399. Cf. Margue, “Fecit Carolus,” pp. 90–1.

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Wenceslas IV had an altar erected in the choir of the abbey church in front of the headstone (sepulcrum) of his grandfather, the Czech King John.38 John’s remains continued to have an eventful story even after burial at Alt-Münster. Reinforcement of the walls after the attack of French King Francis I was turned away in 1543 required the razing of the old abbey. John of Luxembourg’s remains were exhumed and temporarily interred in the Franciscan cloister before being returned into the newly built St. Mary’s abbey (Neu-Münster) at the end of the century. In the meantime, John’s skull was lost, but it was found in 1630 with the help of Isabella Clara Eugenia, the ruler of the Spanish Netherlands. Archduke Albert of Austria had a monumental memorial to John created in 1613, but it was destroyed in a fire at the abbey in 1684. The coffin or other container with John’s remains survived and were interred into a baroque crypt that copied the Holy Sepulchre. The French revolutionary army destroyed the abbey once again in 1795 and the royal remains were saved by the monks and hidden in a baker’s stone cellar. On his deathbed several decades later, the baker admitted to possessing the odd treasure to Mayor John Baptist Boch. His son then acquired the remains and transferred them to Mettlach, where they were purchased by the Prussian crown prince and future king Friedrich Wilhelm (IV.). The prince, under significant influence from contemporary romanticism, had the remains of “the last crowned knight” re-buried on August 26, 1838 in a hermitage built by his architect Karel-Fridrich Schinkel on a steep cliff in Castell-sur-la-Sarre near the town of Saarburg. However, the bones of the king did not find a permanent resting place there, either. Shortly after the end of World War II, units of the young Luxembourger army infiltrated the mausoleum in Castella under the cover of night and seized the remains of their national hero. They were later interred in the cathedral in the foyer of the archducal crypt in front of the baroque headstone brought from Neu-Münster.39 Finally, in 1980, John’s remains were exhumed one more time and re-buried in a new coffin after undergoing anthropological analysis. It probably will not be the last time, as the instinct among researchers is to open and re-open the graves of the great

38 39

These and other sources are listed in Margue, “Fecit Carolus” pp. 91–4, which also discusses the possible appearance of the headstone. The overview is based on: Margue, “Fecit Carolus” pp. 91–2; Stefan Schmitz, “Epilog: Ritter und Märchenkönig. Friedrich Wilhelm IV. und Karl Friedrich Schinkel bauen ein Mausoleum für Johann den Blinden,” in Grabmäler der Luxemburger. Image und Memoria eines Kaiserhauses, pp. 155–74, here especially pp. 172. Cf. Spěváček, Král diplomat, pp. 245–246; and Bobková, Velké dějiny zemí Koruny české, vol. IVa, pp. 208–10.

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and powerful, such as to perform DNA testing.40 In 1999, a call for offers went out for a new design for the entire space with a focus on the European significance of John, Czech King and Duke of Luxembourg. The question is, what led Charles IV to not even attempt to fulfil his father’s last will? Of the hypotheses on offer, the most likely is that Charles simply had no other alternative at the time. The first irreversible decision was made by the surgeons at the Maintenay priory when they separated the remains into several parts as was the norm for royals and magnates in France and England. Although Charles IV was only 20 in 1346, he must have had personal knowledge of court funeral rituals. In 1328, he was 12 years old when he attended the funeral of his royal uncle, Charles IV (the Fair) of France. Because he was an exceptionally curious young man, it can be expected that something of this spectacle remained in his memory.41 This includes the king’s body being put on display with all the symbols of power, the grand procession with its set organization, and the three funerals when burying the body in Saint-Denis, the heart in the Paris Dominican church, and the entrails in Maubuisson.42 It is unknown whether Charles took part in the funeral of his father-in-law Charles of Valois († December 16, 1325) three years earlier, when his remains were buried in three places on the basis of an agreement with Pope Clement V. His entrails were buried by the Cistercians in Chaalis, the heart was buried in the Minorite church in Paris, and the body was given to the Dominicans of the city.43 If the triple burial of his father’s remains was an acceptable solution for Charles, the exclusion of the Clairefontaine abbey, practically the home abbey of the Luxembourg dynasty, was not a fait accompli. Charles had respected his father’s wishes in terms of bringing him to Luxembourg, but he chose the more significant Benedictine abbey at the family home instead of the lesser 40 41 42

43

Emanuel Vlček, Jan Lucemburský. Tělesné vlastnosti 10. českého krále ve světle antropologicko-lékařského průzkumu (Prague: Národní muzeum, 1980); Emanuel Vlček, Čeští králové I. Fyzické osobnosti českých panovníků I (Prague, 1999), pp. 143–64. Charles’s attendance at the funeral of his eponymous French uncle was indirectly confirmed in Vita Caroli, ed. Bohumil Ryba (Prague, 1978), pp. 28–30. The excerpt from the testament of Charles the Fair with instructions detailing the separation and burial of individual parts of his remains was published by Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, pp. 47–8, n. 21. On older burial traditions of French kings, see Alain Erlande-Brandenburg, “Le roi est mort. Études sur les funérailles, les sépultures et les tombeaux des rois de France jusqu à la fin du XIIIe siècle,” Bibliothèque de la Société française d’archéologie 7 (1975), especially pp. 20–2. See also Elizabeth A.R. Brown, The Monarchy of Capetian France and Royal Ceremonial (Hampshire: Variorum, 1991), pp. 259–60. His wish to rest between the bodies of his two deceased wives while his heart was to be laid to rest in the location his third wife chooses for her last resting place was behind this separation, see Joseph Petit, Charles de Valois (1270–1325) (Paris: A. Picard et fils, 1900), pp. 219–20.

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Cistercian one. The idea that this stemmed from John’s new will does not stand up. Political interests probably played the deciding role as Charles wanted to be seen as a legitimate heir to the dynasty.44 The dynastic dimension of the life of the chivalric king and his historical memory corresponded to John’s remains resting in three separate domains: the entrails in English-held territory, the heart in France, and the body in Luxembourg.45 This example would be neither the first nor last time a sovereign’s last wishes were not taken into account. The Roman and Czech King Albert II offers another example of last wills being cast aside. He dictated his last testament four days before his death on October 27, 1439 in Neszmély. The gravely ill Albert expressed the wish for his body to be taken to Vienna to the church of St. Stephan and laid alongside his kin.46 As soon as the body was embalmed, the funeral procession embarked for Vienna led by Chancellor Kaspar Schlik and other magnates. The city leaders already began preparations for a spectacular funeral, but they were disappointed to learn that the procession turned to the south in Raab, destined for Székesfehérvár, considered to be the capital of the Hungarian kingdom (sedes, metropolis regni Hungariae). The Viennese were convinced this was the work of the treacherous Hungarians, but in the reality the decision was made by the pregnant Queen Elizabeth, who tried to shore up quickly her unstable position and prepare the succession for her child if it were to be a boy. We do not have to go into details here, but she had her husband buried in the cathedral associated with the coronations of Hungarian kings on October 30 or 31, 1439, four or five days after his death.47 Both wills discussed above named the monarchs’ desired resting place at their beginnings. On the other hand, neither of Charles IV’s two wills from 1376–1377 mentions where he wanted to be buried. However, by constructing an 44 45 46

47

This idea was rejected by Margue, “‘Regum de stirpe’”, p. 105. This was noted by Margue, “Fecit Carolus,” pp. 88–9. Albert’s last will ist published by Karl Gutkas, “Der Mailberger Bund 1451. Studien zum Verhältnis von Landesfürsten und Ständen um die Mitte des 15. Jahrhunderts (Zweiter Teil),” Mitteilungen des Institus für österreichische Geschichte 74 (1966), pp. 347–92, here cf. p. 382: “gen Viennan füren und zu sant Stephan bey unser vorworden legen und uns begen.” Exerpt in Regesta Imperii XII. Albrecht II. 1438–1439, ed. Günther Hödl (Vienna/Cologne: Böhlau, 1975) pp. 274, no. 1178. Cf. Hans Diether Heimann, “‘Testament,’ ‘Ordenung,’ ‘Gifte unter den Lebendigen.’ Bemerkungen zu Form und Funktion deutscher Königsund Fürstentestamente sowie Seelgerätstiftungen,” in Ecclesia et regnum. Festschrift für J. Schmale zu seinem 65. Geburtstag, eds. Dieter Berg and Hans-Werner Goetz (Bochum: Winkler, 1989), pp. 273–84, here pp. 276–7. For further details and information about sources Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 159–65; on contemporary context see Daniela Dvořáková, “Mulier prudens: Helena Kottanerová, dvorná dáma kráľovnej Alžbety,” in Spomienky Heleny Kottannerovej, eds. Daniela Dvořáková and Mária Papsonová (Budmerice: Rak, 2008), pp. 14–7. The funeral of Albert II will be discussed further in another context.

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extensive royal crypt inside St. Vitus Cathedral, the Emperor clearly expressed that he would like to be buried alongside his three deceased wives.48 Charles’s son Sigismund Luxembourg was also aware that the remembrance of the sovereign began with the selection of a last resting place. He chose Oradea as his preferred burial site in April 1406 out of a desire of laying alongside King Laudislaus, whom he held in high regard during his last moments.49 Sigismund began favouring the Oradea church at the beginning of the 15th century, ordering there the construction of a new altar (and possibly another altar dedicated to his patron), as well as an expansion to the crypt.50 There is nothing known about the will of Wenceslas IV, even though he had made some preparations for his death. He surprisingly chose the Zbraslav Cistercian church as his last resting place and had an impressive tombstone created.51 Ladislaus Posthumous was too young to have made preparations for his death, but it was obvious at the time that he would be interred in the royal crypt in the Prague cathedral. The same was true of George of Poděbrady, even if it meant that he as an Utraquist was buried at a Catholic site. His will has not survived, but we can assume its existence and that he did not neglect matters for after his death. According to a chronicler, his body was laid to rest on March 25 at Prague Castle, but his entrails were buried “next to the grave of Master Rokycana.”52 George was thus a king of “two peoples.” Matthias Corvinus’s testament could not be found, as was the case of the last will of Vladislaus II of Hungary, which was cited by Josef Macek

48

49 50 51

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The German version of the first political testament from Dec. 21, 1376 was uncovered by Ludwig Schlesinger, “Eine Erbtheilungs- und Erbfolgsordnungurkunde Karls IV.,” Mitteilungen des Vereins für Geschichte der Deutschen in Böhmen 31 (1892–1893), pp. 1–13. The second from Dec 18, 1377 was published by Fritz Quicke, “Un testament inédit de l’Empereur Charles IV (18 octobre 1377),” Revue Belge de philosophie et d’histoire 6 (1927), pp. 256–77. A comprehensive paraphrasing of both documents was presented by Jiří Spěváček, Karel IV. Život a dílo (1316–1378) (Prague: Svoboda, 1979), pp. 458–67; see also Bobková, Velké dějiny zemí Koruny české, vol. IVa, pp. 431–7. Cf. Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, p. 149. For more, see Kerny, “Begräbnis und Begräbnisstätte,” pp. 475–6. The selection of Zbraslav as Wenceslas’s last resting place is mentioned in Laurentii de Brzezowa Historia hussitica, ed. Jaroslav Goll, frb V (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1893), p. 346; the headstone was known among others to Sagan (Żagań) Abbot Ludolf, see Johann Loserth, “Beiträge zur Geschichte der husitischen Bewegung III. Der Tractatus de longevo schismate des Abtes Ludolf von Sagan,” Archiv für österreichische Geschichte 60 (1881), p. 478. More details on Wenceslas IV’s three funerals are below. Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, p. 147. A metal container was used for the heart of Ferdinand I in 1564, a photograph of which was published in Bravermanová and Lutovský, Hroby, hrobky a pohřebiště, p. 227.

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without documentation of a source.53 Louis II of Hungary probably also did not consider a will knowing that he would be buried together with his father and his predecessor in Székesfehérvár. 3

The Funeral of Charles IV: Preparations

Funerals closed the late medieval sovereign’s cycle of ostentatious presentation of their own dignity (dignitas) to the general public. Contrary to most other court ceremonies, the king only participated through his dead body. This may be the reason that ritual burial rites (ordines) are very rarely recorded in the Middle Ages. Sovereigns often did not have the time to prepare them, despite having built their sarcophagi for their chosen cathedral. Emperor Charles IV proceeded in this respect very ambitiously, knowledgeable in the fact that the general representational manifestation of his own majesty was an intrinsic part of political activity.54 The first act in his efforts was the consecration of a new chapel dedicated to St. Wenceslas in St. Vitus Cathedral on November 30, 1367. Besides the cult centre, a new sandstone tomb for the remains of the Emperor’s most important predecessor and patron of the Czech crown was also consecrated.55 53

54

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On his death and testament, see Josef Macek, Jagellonský věk v českých zemích (1471–1526), vol. 1. Hospodářská základna a královská moc (Prague: Academia, 1992), p. 220. The officially record will included religious articles targeting Czech Utraquists, whose feasibility was doubted by the witnesses themselves. The extensive older literature in František Šmahel, “Spectaculum et pompa funebris: Das Leichenzeremoniell bei der Bestattung Kaiser Karls IV.,” in Idem, Zur politischen Representation und Allegorie im 14. und 15. Jahrhundert (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1994), pp. 1–37. See also Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 100–19 and Marie Bláhová, “Die königlichen Begräbniszeremonien im spätmittelalterlichen Böhmen,” in Der Tod des mächtigen. Kult und Kultur des Todes spätmittelalterlicher Herrscher, ed. Lothar Kolmer (Paderborn/München/Vienna/Zürich: Ferdinand Schöningh, 1997), pp. 101–3 and latest summary by František Šmahel, “Die letzte Ausstrahlung der kaiserlichen Majestät: Die Reise Karls IV. nach Paris und seine Prager Pompa funebris,” in Kaiser Karl IV. 1316–2016. Erste Bayerisch-Tschechische Landesaustellung. Ausstellungskatalog (Prague: Národní galerie, 2016), pp. 247–51. For more see Viktor Kotrba, “Kaple svatováclavská v pražské katedrále,” Umění 8 (1960), pp. 329–56. Work decorating the chapel and installing inlays on the walls was continuing at the time. On the date of creation of the statue of St. Wenceslas, its author, and location, see the summary from Jiří Fajt, “Sv. Václav se znakem rodiny Parléřů”, in Karel IV. císař z boží milosti. Kultura a umění za vlády Lucemburků 1310–1437, ed. Jiří Fajt (Prague: Academia, 2006), pp. 222–4, no. 72. Further literature, especially Ivo Hlobil, “Neue Beobachtungen zur Wenzelstatue im Prager Veitsdom,” in Parlerbauten, Architektur, Skulptur, Denkmalpflege, ed. Richard Strobel (Stuttgart: Theiss, 2004), pp. 221–7, recently see Jiří Kuthan and Jan

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Charles took the next step in December 1373 when he had the remains of six Přemyslid kings and princes exhumed, transferred, and re-buried according to a prepared order into three central chapels of the choir gallery in the cathedral.56 We already know that the graves of Rudolf I of Bohemia and the eponymous Austrian and Swabian duke Rudolf remained in their original locations. In 1376–1377, Peter Parler created tombs with supine representations of the Přemyslid kings. The intentions of this act were mirrored in the location of the mausoleum and the layout of the graves together with a differentiation of type of ruler. The monumental Přemyslid burial statues were located in the dark ground-level zone, with the busts of the ruling Luxembourgs associated with the Czech Kingdom above them, and a depiction of all eight Czech patrons were higher still in the light of the column gallery.57 The layout of the Přemyslid graves was determined by a number of factors. Besides the chronological principle and distance from the central axis, the idea of opposing couples was used in each chapel as prince-warriors in full armour are countered by prince-clerics in flowing robes and cloaks.58 As the chivalric archetype had preference over the cleric, it would be interesting to know how Charles and his artistic advisers conceived his own tomb.59 However, it has not survived, and we only have a general description

56

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Royt, The Cathedral of St. Vitus at Prague Castle (Prague: Karolinum, 2017), pp. 176–91. On the hypothetical concept of the cathedral as a memorial to Charles IV, see Michael Viktor Schwarz, “Felix Bohemia Sedes Imperii: Der Prager Veitsdom als Grabkirche Kaiser Karls IV.,” in Grabmäler der Luxemburger: Image und Memoria eines Kaiserhauses, ed. Idem (Luxembourg: Cludem, 1997), pp. 123–53. Chronicler Beneš of Weitmile, who described the entire transfer in detail, claims each transferred grave had a lead plaque (lamina plumbea) with the name of the monarch engraved upon it. See Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, pp. 547–8. On Přemyslid headstones in a broader comparative context, see Romuald Kaczmarek, “Schilde, Helme und Kissen. Erwägungen zu den sekundären Details der Přemyslidengrabdenkmäler im Prager Dom,” in Künstlerische Wechselwirkungen in Mitteleuropa, eds. Jiří Fajt and Markus Hörsch (Ostfildern: Jan Thorbecke, 2006), pp. 73–90. I kept the inteterpretaiton formulated by Jaromír Homolka, “Zu den ikonographischen Programmen Karls IV.,” in Die Parler und der schöne Stil 1350–1400, vol. 2. Europäische Kunst unter den Luxemburgern (Cologne: Museen der Stadt Köln, 1978), pp. 613–6. The dynastic-propagandist elements in the ordering of the busts were noted by Schwarz, “Felix Bohemia,” pp. 136–42. Parler’s funeral sculptures were typologically differentiated by Jaromír Homolka, “Prag und Böhmen. Die Skulptur”, in Die Parler und der schöne Stil 1350–1400, vol. 2, pp. 650– 3; more recently on the basis of written sources, see Ivo Hlobil, “Gotické sochařství,” in Katedrála sv. Víta v Praze (Prague: Pražský hrad, 1994), pp. 60–95, here pp. 76–80. The Prague cathedral was understood as a memorial in Charles’s conception as postulated by Olaf B. Rader, “Erinnerte Macht. Zu Symbol, Form und Idee spätmittelalterlicher

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from the Austrian historian and theologian Thomas Ebendorfer who saw it upon his visit to Prague in 1438. The royal mausoleum in front of the altar in St. Vitus cathedral was built out of rectangular blocks of stone piled two-feet high, protected by an iron grating that even at the time was violently broken in three places.60 Whether the cenotaph covered a marble or other slab with Charles’s figure cannot be determined. In any case, the tomb, lying equidistant between the chapels of St. Wenceslas and St. Sigismund, the main altar, and the tomb o St. Adalbert of Prague,61 was completed in temporary form on the last day of Charles’s funeral on December 15, 1378. The epitaph to the deceased Emperor was engraved on the occasion and was included in the speech given by Archbishop John of Jenstein: In the year one thousand, three hundred and seventy-eight on the 29th day of November, Lo, I, Charles IV, once the scourge of the entire world, an Emperor who never knew defeat, safe by death, was laid low; in this tomb, here am buried. Oh Lord, if only my soul rises to the stars, I now only that all pray for me, those I abandoned in death and favoured in life. And so let his soul rest in holy peace.62

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Herrschergräber,” in Kunst als Herrschaftsinstrument. Böhmen und das Heilige Römische Reich unter den Luxemburgern im europäischen Kontext (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2009), pp. 173–83, here pp. 175–8. Thomas Ebendorfer Chronica regum Romanorum I, ed. Harald Zimmermann (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 2003), pp. 545–6: “Tandem vero Karolus (…) anno Domini MCCCLXXVIII (postquam XXXII annis administravit imperium) Prage rebus excessit humanis, sepultus in ecclesia kathedrali ante aram sancti Viti in regio mausoleo, quadris lapidibus structo et ad duorum pedum altitudinem a pavimento in sursum elevato, desuper ferreo munito cancello, quod et ego in tribus locis ruptum et apertum et per quorundam furiam conspexi temeratum.” That is only one of the possible suppositions compared by Schwarz, “Felix Bohemia,” p. 130; Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 110–14. The original plan for a two-chambered grave for Charles IV was published by Bravermanová and Lutovský, Hroby, hrobky a pohřebiště, p. 42. On some important aspects, mainly in relation to the location of the grave and Charles’s cenotaph, see Klára Benešovská, “Ideál a skutečnost. (Historické a badatelské peripetie kolem královského pohřebiště v katedrále sv. Víta v Praze v době Lucemburků)”, Epigraphica & Sepulcralia 1 (2005), pp. 19–48, here pp. 26–7; cf. also Bravermanová, “Hroby králů,” pp. 58–9. The funeral speech by Archbishop John of Jenstein published as the sermo by John Očko of Vlašim Josef Emler, frb III (Prague, 1882), pp. 423–31. To the authorship of this Eulogy František Šmahel, “Kdo pronesl smuteční řeč při pohřbu císaře Karla IV.?,” Studia Mediaevalia Bohemica 2 (2010) pp. 215–20. The epitaph in its original Latin on p. 429

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Charles certainly wanted to make the Prague cathedral into a royal necropolis much like Saint-Denis in France. Contrary to St. Louis, he went about realizing the goal more piously and seemingly did not consider removing the remains from the Přemyslid graves in the Basilica of St. George, in the St. Agnes cloister, the Cistercian abbey at Zbraslav, or any other location.63 It was Charles’s initiative that probably led to the more dignified burial of the remains of St. Ludmila of Bohemia, Boleslav II, and Vratislav I in the aforementioned Basilica of St. George, although not all the tombs were completed during his lifetime.64 Although the renovation of the mausoleum in the Prague cathedral was conditioned by the progress of work on the building itself, it cannot go unnoticed that Parler’s tombstones were created shortly before the Emperor’s death. Charles, in what seems like a premonition of his rapidly approaching demise, wanted to guarantee personally the dignity of his final resting place. It would not have been surprising had Emperor Charles IV issued instructions for his own funeral considering his highly-developed sensitivity to court and dynastic ceremonies. He certainly did not lack experience as he not only attended the funerals listed above, but also “with great magnificence and glory” (cum magno apparatu et solemnitate) managed funerals for his three deceased wives,65 which according to their analogous French and English ceremonies, differed little from those organized for men.66 Charles also had to bury piously

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reads: “Anno mill. trecent. LXXXVIII, tercia Kal. Decembris. / Quartus ego Carolus magni quondam tremor orbis / Cesar et invictus, modo victus morte, sub ista / Fossa tegor, deus alme precor meus astra subintret. / Spiritus, o cuncti, pro me pia solvite vota, / Quos moriens liqui, quos vivos optime fovi. / Et sic anima eius requiescat in sancta pace.” Abbot Suger’s project to transform St. Denis to a “dynastic necropolis” was completed by St. Louis by transferring the remains of many royal ancestors and creating monumental gravestones for them. Cf. Erwin Panofsky, Abbot Suger. On the Abbey Church of St.-Denis and its Art Treasures (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979); Ralph E. Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, pp. 55–9. On Charles IV’s visits to the Saint-Denis basilica, see František Šmahel, The Parisian Summit, 1377–78, Emperor Charles IV and King Charles V of France (Prague: Karolinum, 2014), see the index. This is true of the gravestone of Prince Vratislaus from 1379, see Viktor Kotrba, “Tumba knížete Vratislava v bazilice sv. Jiří na Pražském hradě”, in Sborník k sedmdesátinám Jana Květa (Prague: Univerzita Karlova, 1965), pp. 123–30. The much more complicated circumstances surrounding the remains of Ludmila of Bohemia were analysed by Ivo Hlobil, “Gotický náhrobek sv. Ludmily na Pražském hradě,” Umění 33 (1985), pp. 377–402. So states chonicler in his record of the funeral of Queen Blanche of Valois († Aug. 1, 1348), see Chronicon Francisci Pragensis, frb S. N. I, p. 205. Anne of Bavaria († Feb. 2, 1353) was according to this chronicle “solemniter sepulta” (ibidem, p. 214). Nothing more is known of the funeral of Charles’s third wife, Anna of Schweidnitz († July 11, 1362). Compare with Wolfgang Brückner, Bildnis und Brauch. Studien zur Bildfunktion der Effigies (Berlin: Schmidt, 1966), pp. 74–5 and Erlande-Brandenburg, “Le roi est mort,” pp. 23–5.

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several of his siblings during his lifetime, as well as the children of other noble relatives. And the funeral of the first Prague archbishop, Ernest of Pardubice († June 30, 1364), was an especially spectacular event.67 Charles’s ambitious desire to assure his eternal salvation while forever elevating his memory and that of his family can further be seen in the changes he made to his foundation of the Choralists (mansionarii) in 1343. The first impulse for this move came from his second wife, Anna of Bavaria, who charged the Choralists and their preceptor with caring for the grave of her deceased first-born son Wenceslas, where she ordered that candles burn at all hours of the day. After the Queen’s death on February 2, 1353, Charles expanded her endowment with funds for the founding of three altars where the Choralists were to sing a mass for the salvation of his family each day. He also established three anniversaries, one for each of his deceased wives (Blanche of Valois and Anna) and a third in the future for himself. Three new altars (St. Nicholas, St. Innocents, and St. Louis) were built close (in capite) to the still-under-construction royal tomb, where candles from Queen Anna’s foundation were to burn.68 The Choralists still carried out these tasks in 1416, according to the surviving order of benefices. This ordo commendarum is exceptionally valuable because of the listing of special obligations for every anniversary, which included the ringing of certain bells, and displaying of certain hangings and royal insignia.69 The muddled sources about the order seem to suggest that on the anniversary, wooden platforms with house-like chests (cistae) that symbolized the dead members of the royal family were placed around Charles’s cenotaph.70 However, we also have to admit the possibility that Charles, in contrast to his political testament, issued no orders about his funeral and that court officials together with Prague prelates put together the ceremony after his death on 67

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Details in Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, pp. 528–31. On his gravestone in the St. Mary’s church in Klodzk, see Tomasz Mikołajczak, “Geneza artystyczna i ideowa nagrobka Arnošta z Pardubic w Kłodzku,” in Arnošt z Pardubic (1297–1364). Osobnost  – okruh – dědictví (Wrocław/Prague/Pardubice: Univerzita Karlova, 2005), pp. 243–59. All important details in this respect were captured by Zdeňka Hledíková, “Fundace českých králů ve 14. století”, Sborník historický 18 (1972), pp. 5–51. For the cathedral singers (mansionarii), see Jan Ryba, “Mansionáři v pražském kostele,” Pražský sborník historický 30 (1998), pp. 5–89, here p. 22. “Ordo commendarum post anniversaria vigiliarum,” ed. Václav Vladivoj Tomek, Základy starého místopisu pražského IV (Prague: František Řiwnáč, 1872), pp. 248–52. Eight relevant records were selected and published in translation by Benešovská, “Ideál a skutečnost,” pp. 37–8. As surmised by Benešovská, “Ideál a skutečnost,” p. 26.

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November 29, 1378. Although the Emperor clung to life for several days after a severe injury and an attack of gout, some preparations could have taken place in absolute secrecy before his actual death.71 Emperor Charles died on Sunday, November 29, 1378, three hours after sunset, which would mean at about eight o’clock.72 That evening, the royal office began sending out messengers.73 The approximate date of the funeral must have already been known. The royal doctors and surgeons began embalming the lifeless body despite Prague being gripped by bitter cold.74 That proved to be fortuitous as temperatures rose significantly in the next six days. Regardless, embalmment was part of protocol for funerals of crowned monarchs and other high-ranking individuals. New methods of preservation gradually replaced more primitive methods (more teutonico).75 As there is no mention that his entrails were buried separately, Charles IV seemingly did not express any wish in this respect. Representatives of Prague’s community and guilds probably joined the preparations on the following day. The funeral itself represented an economic boost to a number of professions and trades. Chiefly, a huge amount of black cloth was needed, as was the creation of several hundred sets of clothing. The New Town and Old Town of Prague paid for black clothing for 150 tradesmen, while the royal chamber paid for the clothes of another 114 candle bearers. The 71

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On the nature of Charles’s illness, see Bobková, Velké dějiny zemí Koruny české, vol. IVa, p. 456. A detailed commentary on the atlas of skeletal remains was published by Emanuel Vlček, Čeští králové I. Fyzické osobnosti českých panovníků II (Prague: Vesmír, 2000), pp. 165–98. A comparison of contemporary (shortened) testimonies was published in Regesta imperii VIII. Die Regesten des Kaiserreichs unter Kaiser Karl IV. 1346–1378, edited by Alfons Huber (Innsbruck: Universitäts Buchdruckerei, 1877), p. 498, no. 5951a. See also “Chronicon Viennense,” in Geschichtschreiber der hussitischen Bewegung in Böhmen I, ed. Konstantin Höfler, fra I, (Vienna: Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1856), p. 5. To the role of the royal office during the funeral of Emperor Frederick III Hans Peter Zelfel, Ableben und Begräbnis Friedrichs III (Vienna: Verband der wiss. Gesellschaften Österreichs, 1974), pp. 100–1. The embalmment is evidenced by the discovery of a vertical incision on the chest bone and a mummification sponge in the stomach cavity. For more, see Emanuel Vlček, “Karel IV., jeho tělesné vlastnosti a zdravotní stav,” Staletá Prague 8 (1978), pp. 82–3. On the extreme cold, see Annotationes in ms Olomouc, University Library, M II 15, fol. 3v (ed. Šmahel, “Smuteční ceremonie a rituály,” pp. 148–9). On new embalming techniques, see Dietrich Schäfer, “Mittelalterlicher Brauch bei der Überlieferung von Leichen,” in Sitzungsberichte der Preußischen Akademie der Wissenschaften (Berlin: Verlag der Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1920), pp. 478–98. On the same topics, see Brückner, Bildnis und Brauch, pp. 67–8; Ralph Giesey, The Royal Funeral Ceremony in Renaissance France. (Geneve: Librairie Droz, 1960), Chapter 2.

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consumption of cloth, including more expensive materials for the court, was undoubtedly much larger, although some probably used existing attire. Black, which was installed as the Christian colour of mourning by Pope Innocence III, was to give the procession uniformity.76 As colouring the cloth was a complicated technological process, especially in the cold of winter, drapers and cloth makers from the surrounding towns were able to sell their stock.77 The contemporary iconography and surviving headstones show that the flowing black cap was reserved in funerals for candle bearers and weepers (pleurants, Weiner, Klagemänner).78 The royal funeral would have also been very profitable for Prague’s candle makers.79 The funeral procession itself included 564 candle bearers and hundreds more burned next to the catafalque and even above the royal body when it was displayed in Prague’s churches. This was not unusual as complaints about the massive consumption of candles in funeral processions were logged in German and other cities.80 Those who sold food also saw brisk business 76

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See also Louis Réau, Iconographie de l’art chrétien, vol. 1 (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1955), p. 73; Michel Pastoureau, “Les couleurs de la mort,” in A réveiller les morts. La mort au quotidien dans l’Occident médiéval, eds. Danièle Alexandre-Bidon and Cécile Treffort (Lyon: Presses Universitaires de Lyon, 1993); Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, p. 220. It is noteworthy that the numerous visualisations of funeral scenes in Wenceslas IV’s beautifully illuminated Bible include a reminicance of his father’s funeral in 1378 – cf. Faksimilienausgabe der Wenzelsbibel I–VIII (Dortmund: Harenberg, 1990). Few cloth dyers have been evidenced in Prague thus far. Cf. Zikmund Winter, Dějiny řemesel a obchodu v Čechách v XIV. a v XV. století (Prague: Česká akademie Císaře Františka Josefa, 1906), pp. 132–3, which also discusses cloth making in other Czech cities. A certain idea comes from an analogy from the funeral of Emperor Maxmilian II in March 1577, which required clothing for 200 poor people and several thousand ells of black cloth were needed to decorate the cathedral – Sněmy české od léta 1526 až po naši dobu, vol. 5: 1577–1580 (Prague: Královský český archiv zemský, 1887), pp. 91–2, no. 63. Of the many contemporary images, see the miniature in Book of Hours of François de Guise (Musée Condé Chantilly), which clearly differentiates the black clothing of the candlebearers and mourners form the men carrying the coffin to the grave. Compare with the reproduction in Histoire de la France religieuse, vol. 2 (Paris: Seuil, 1988), p. 73. Compare iconografic sources in Gloria K. Piero, “Death ritual in fifteenth-century manuscript illumination,” Journal of Medieval History 10 (1984), pp. 271–94; Gabriele Bartz and Eberhard König, “Die Illustration des Totenoffiziums in Stundenbüchern,” in Pietas liturgica, vol. 3. Im Angesicht des Todes, (St. Ottilien: EOS, 1988), pp. 487–528; Paul Binski, Medieval Death. Ritual and Representation (London: British Museum Press, 1996). On specialised wax candlemakers in Prague, see Winter, Dějiny řemesel, p. 130. Candles were also made from tallow at home. As stated by Brückner, Bildnis und Brauch, p. 39; Neithard Bulst, “Feste und Feiern unter Auflagen,” in Feste und Feiern im Mittelalter, ed. Detlef Altenburg (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1991), p. 43.

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during royal funerals as a large cache of consumables had to be obtained for receptions.81 Goldsmiths also profited as they had to quickly fashion the funeral regalia from gold-covered silver. It thus seems almost unthinkable that cheap wooden replicas were used in the funeral for Emperor Charles IV. It therefore stands to reason the original insignia were replaced during one of the many later manipulations of the royal remains.82 Finally, carpenters were needed to build catafalques in several Prague churches for the movable bier. In appearance, the catafalque in St. Vitus cathedral partially recalled a so-called castrum doloris (parade bed), which were also used in the Prague funerals for Maximilian II and his son Rudolf.83 It is no wonder that it took 11 days to prepare for a wonder the likes of which Prague had never seen before. During this period, the dead sovereign’s body was displayed in the audience chamber at the castle palace.84 It seems the canon regulations demanding immediate transfer of the body to a church were pushed aside when it came to the emperor and king.85 This was also because St. Vitus Cathedral received the highest honours during the final ceremonies. According to a later account, Charles, in accordance with his wishes, was shrouded in the simple clothing of a poor monk.86 This is contradicted by an eyewitness and the fragments of cloth found in Charles’s sarcophagus.87 Representation of royal dignity during funerals was among the most important 81 82 83

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Judging by the analogy to the wake during the funeral of Maxmilian II, where Emperor Rudolf II searched far and wide for fish – Sněmy české, vol. 5, pp. 122–3, no. 70. See above and a comparison with Frolík, “Insignes funèbres,” pp. 161–4. Brückner, Bildnis und Brauch, pp. 42 and 69–70; Edmund W. Braun, “Castrum doloris”, in: Realenzyklopädie der deutschen Kunst III, col. 372–9; Josef Janáček, Císař Rudolf II. a jeho doba (Prague: Svoboda, 1987), pp. 164, 504–6. Two of Rudolf II’s mandates from February 1577 are enlightening in this respect (Sněmy české, vol. 5, pp. 91–2, no. 62–63). On the transient status during the funeral of Frederick III, see Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 181–2 and pictures on 83–6. See “Augsburger Chronik von 1368–1406,” ed. Frensdorf, p. 59, which states: “Item er ist ob der erde gestanden in dem sal gantzer 11 tag.” The body of Joanna of Bavaria, the first wife of Wenceslas IV, was also displayed in the royal palace in January 1387 and not in the cathedral, see Annotationes in ms Olomouc, University Library, M II 15, fol. 4r (ed. Šmahel, Zur politischen Präsentation, p. 34). Hans Hollerweger, “Gebräuche und Begräbnisliturgie,” Lexikon des Mittelalters I, col. 1806; For France see Colette Beaune, “Mourir noblement à la fin du Moyen Age,” in La mort au Moyen Age (Strasbourg: Librairie Istra, 1975), p. 127. This later report (P. Vigilius Greiderer, Germania Franciscana I (Innsbruck: Trattner, 1777), fol. 716) accepted Spěváček, Karel IV. Život a dílo, p. 480; Vlček, Karel IV., p. 79. It is possible that only Charles’s undergarments, which could not be seen, were made of rough cloth as was the case of Maximilian I – cf. Hermann Wiesflecker, Maximilian I. Die Fundamente des habsburgischen Weltreiches (Vienna: Verlag für Geschichte und Politik, 1991), p. 382. On the surviving cloth in royal graves during Charles’s period, see Bravermanová and Lutovský, Hroby, hrobky a pohřebiště, pp. 199–205, and other literature listed there.

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monarchic-dynastic acts of its kind besides the coronation and the king’s processions.88 In this respect, there is one noteworthy semantic point that the term repraesentatio in one case meant the same as honorarius tumulus, or honorary memorial.89 This suggests why traditional order was upheld during the official display (ostensio) of the deceased sovereign. 4

The Funeral of Charles IV and the Funeral Rites of the Czech Kings

The death of Charles IV was recorded in a whole series of contemporary annals, but without the details of his funeral.90 The one valuable exception is the record by an unknown contemporary in manuscript M II 15 in the Olomouc University library.91 Besides the three surviving funeral speeches to be discussed below, the primary testimony is that by a German eyewitness (Wie caiser Karel starb), the 1763 edition of which exploited the opulent description of the funeral František Martin Pelcl (1781), later František Palacký, and V.V. Tomek.92 Broad paraphrases of the colourful descriptions can be found in more recent literature,93 but deeper comparative analysis is less frequent. The impulse for those came from Heinrich Brunner at the end of the 19th century,94 who was followed after World War II by Wolfgang Brückner and his excellent analysis of horses and knights in funeral rites.95 (figure 3.2) 88 89 90 91 92

93 94 95

For more on this topic and its ceremonial aspects, see Robert Antonín and Tomáš Borovský, Panovnické vjezdy na středověké Moravě (Brno: Matice moravská, 2009). Brückner, Bildnis und Brauch, pp. 90–5. The location of his grave in the choir of St. Vitus Cathedral is seldom given as it is in the “R” manuscript of so-called Old Czech Annals. See Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, p. 1. Cf. Šmahel, Zur politischen Präsentation, p. 34. Franz Martin Pelzel, Kaiser Karl der Vierte, König in Böhmen, vol. 2 (Prague: Joh. Adam Hagen, 1781), pp. 942–6; Franz Palacky, Geschichte von Böhmen, vol. II/2 (Prague: F. Tempský, 1877), p. 403 (without citing a source); Václav Vladivoj Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 3 (Prague: František Řiwnáč, 1893), pp. 317–20; Josef Kalousek, Karel IV. Otec vlasti (Prague: J.R. Vilímek, 1878), pp. 116–8. Cf. Spěváček, Karel IV. Život a dílo, pp. 480–3; Kavka, Am Hofe Karls IV., pp. 121–3; František Kavka, Vláda Karla IV. za jeho císařství (1355–1378), vol. 2 (Prague: Univerzita Karlova, 1993), pp. 240–5; Bobková, Velké dějiny zemí Koruny české, vol IVa, pp. 456–62. Heinrich Brunner, “Der Totenteil in germanischen Rechten,” Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, Germanische Abteilung 19 (1898), pp. 133, 137. Wolfgang Brückner, “Roß und Reiter im Leichenzeremoniell. Deutungsversuch eines historischen Rechtsbrauches,” Rheinisches Jahrbuch für Volkskunde 15–16 (1964–1965), esp. pp. 157–9. This work was then used by Urszula Borkowska, “The Funeral Ceremonies of the Polish Kings from the Fourteenth to the Eighteenth Centuries,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 36 (1985), pp. 516–7.

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Figure 3.2 The Reconstruction of the funeral dalmatic of Emperor Charles IV based on a preserved fragment of the original fabric

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Contrary to the coronation, a written record of the funeral has not survived and possibly was not even created.96 Thus we again return to the question of whether and to what extent Charles himself left orders for his ceremonial departure from this world. Although a standard funeral ritual for Czech kings probably did not exist until the reign of Charles IV, there was knowledge of domestic and foreign practices. If funerals of sovereigns followed each other closely, the memory of the ritual was embedded in the participants. That could have been the case in 1307 during the funeral of Rudolf of Bohemia, which came only two years after the death of Wenceslas II of the Přemyslids. After that, Prague experienced only one royal funeral until the end of the 14th century: that of Charles IV in December 1378. The basic necessities were dictated by church procedures and the traditions used during the funerals of ecclesiastical and lay magnates.97 Knowledge of older written records can also not be ruled out, especially the well-known and widely-read chronicles. One such work was the Zbraslav Chronicle, which included a detailed account of the funeral for the Czech King Wenceslas II, who died on June 21, 1305. The chronicler claims that the King not only chose to be laid to rest in the Cistercian abbey that he founded, but he also set the order of the abbots and other priests in celebrating the funeral mass. The deceased’s wishes were fulfilled with a single exception. Although he requested a simple death shroud of inexpensive rough cloth, after washing the body servants immediately shrouded it in his most sumptuous clothes from his coronation. There is no mention of embalming, but the chronicler did record that the dead king had a crown placed on his head and his ring was put on his finger, the sceptre and orb were placed into his hands. It is beyond doubt that the deceased’s wishes were secondary to the presentation of royal majesty. The overall effect was supplemented by the use of expensive carpets and cloths in the room where the king’s body was displayed.98 As the royal palace at Prague Castle was still being rebuilt after a fire, Wenceslas II’s funeral began at the home of the wealthy goldsmith Konrad 96

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According to Kavka, Am Hofe Karls IV., p. 121, the monarch’s funeral was not “normalised by any order.” Written procedures for royal funerals were very rare. As far as I am aware, the De exequiis regalibus survived in England in the Liber regie capelle, ed. Walter Ullmann (Cambridge: Henry Bradshaw Society, 1961), pp. 111–5. Cf. entry “Begräbnis, Begräbnissitten,” in Lexikon des Mittelalters I, col. 1804–8; Lexikon für Theologie und Kirche II, col. 116–20; Reallexikon zur deutschen Kunstgeschichte, vol. 2 (Stuttgart: J.B. Metzler, 1954), col. 332–5; statute by R. Naz, “Funérailles,” in Dictionnaire de droit canonique, vol. 5 (Paris: Letouzey & Ané, 1953), col. 915–30; entry for “Bestattung IV. Historisch,” in Theologische Realenzyklopädie, vol. 5 (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1980), pp. 743–9. For the first orientational comparison see the introduction by Lothar Kolmer in the collection Der Tod des Mächtigen, pp. 9–26. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, pp. 97–102.

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close to the stone bridge in the Old Town from which the procession embarked led by the clergy. The leading magnates carried the bier with the king’s body from church to church, followed by huge crowds whose lamentations allegedly drowned out the hymns sung by the priests. It is interesting to note that the procession avoided the bishop’s cathedral at Prague Castle. The canons asked the successor for the right to bury his father, but the request was denied. One day before the funeral, the body was loaded on a boat and taken from Prague to Zbraslav in the early afternoon. The king’s son, who would take part in the ceremony the next day, accompanied the body. Monks held vigil over the dead king, singing hymns. The Zbraslav abbot first served a mass for the deceased with many bishops and prelates in attendance, which was followed by a funeral held according to Cistercian rights.99 The chronicler also thought it worth noting that the king was placed into the sarcophagus inside the sanctuary with a golden crown, sceptre, orb, and all other valuables.100 While the funeral of Wenceslas II had only a rough outline for a program, the events following the death of Charles IV in 1378 went ahead according to a prepared and detailed agenda. Notes and observations from diplomats about similar ceremonies abroad could have served as a template. These could have included accounts of the funeral of Charles I of Hungary in July 1342 or that of Polish King Casimir II the Great in November 1370. Charles most probably participated in the former event as the marriage agreement between his minor daughter Margaret of Bohemia with the crown prince Louis meant he had a significant reason to attend. He embarked for Visegrád from Wrocław where according to sources he received the news of Charles I of Hungary’s serious illness on July 8, 1342.101 He arrived too late, but was still able to meet with Polish King Casimir the Great, who was the brother of the dowager queen. The presence of both sovereigns in Visegrád is confirmed by the contemporary account titled On the Death of King Charles (De morte regis Karoli), which John Thuroczi incorporated into his Chronica Hungarorum.102 It is not known, however, what Charles saw of the funerals.103 99 100 101 102

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Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 99. Cf. Bláhová, “Die königlichen Begräbniszeremonien,” pp. 93–4. Chronicon Aulae Regiae, frb IV, p. 99. According to Jiří Spěváček, „Das Itinerar Karls IV. als Markgrafen von Mähren,” Historická geografie 5 (1970), p. 120. Johannes de Thurocz. Chronica Hungarorum, ed. Elisabeth Galántai and Julius Kristó, vol. 1 (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1985), p. 159: “Deinde vero potentissimi regis obitum famosissimus rex Kazmyrus Polonie proximus eiusdem et marchio Morauie in Wyssegrad venientes condolenti animo celebraverunt.” According to Josef Šusta, Karel IV. Otec a syn (České dějiny II/3) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1946), p. 404, Charles “probably” only took part in the funeral. Charles’s participation

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It was basically possible to travel from Silesea to Visegrád in between his documented stay in Wrocław (July 8) and the death of the Hungarian King on July 16, 1342. If Charles took part in the funeral at Visegrád, then it would have to have been on July 17, the date the dowager queen asked representatives of the church and the aristocracy to arrive. That day, the ceremonially dressed body of the dead king was taken in procession from St. Mary’s Church in the town below the castle and placed on a boat after mass to be transported to Buda. After a night of prayers and other rituals, the body was taken from Buda to Székesfehérvár (Alba Regalis) where St. Mary’s Basilica played host to the actual funeral, preceded by Louis’s coronation on July 21. Finally, the remains of Charles I of Hungary were placed into the crypt on August 14, 30 days after his death in accordance with ecclesiastical regulations.104 If Charles IV was an eyewitness to the events on July 17–20,105 we must ask what could have left an impression on him. The importance of this question grows when we realize that Charles, seven years later, was one of the organizers of the funeral for his rival and uncrowned Roman King Günther von Schwarzburg. The funereal elements that Charles may have observed and later re-used included the presentation of the dead king with an uncovered face (non velata facie), with a crown on his head and dressed in a scarlet tunic, leggings embroidered with precious stones, and gold shoes. Charles was also possibly impressed by the funeral procession of Rudolf I of Bohemia with three knights dressed in the king’s armour carrying his triumphal banner and coat of arms. The knights who acted “as the person and soul of the King” (in persona et spiritu eiusdem domini regis) remained outside the church and later were sacrificed along with the horses, weapons, and arms at the gravesite.106 When Charles IV learned of the death of his rival Günther von Schwarzburg in June 1349 while in Mainz, he quickly departed for Frankfurt and after accepting fealty from the collected knights, electors, and imperial magnates, he paid his last respects to his rival in an opulent Roman funeral. Although the electoral nature of the imperial kingship made developing a continuous burial in the funeral is considered indisputable by Spěváček, Karel IV. Život a dílo, p. 120 and Bobková, Velké dějiny zemí Koruny české, vol. IVa, p. 186. 104 Cf. “De morte regis Karoli” in Johannes de Thurocz. Chronica Hungarorum, pp. 154–9. 105 Charles was still at Visegrad on August 3, but was cited as being in Brno on August 14, before the body was interred, see Spěváček, “Das Itinerar,” p. 120. 106 Briefly about the funeral of Charles I of Hungary Borkowska, “The Funeral Ceremonies,” p. 516. Hungarian historiography, as far as I can judge, did not give this question much attention. According to Josef Deér, Die Heilige Krone Ungarns (Vienna: Hermann Böhlaus Nachf. Kommissionsverlag, 1966), pp. 226–7, note 166, only Ladislaus III (†1205) was buried in Székesfehérvár in the 13th century. Charles I was the first to choose the church of St. Mary as his last resting place once again.

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ritual impossible,107 it cannot be ruled out that Charles used his own experiences and knowledge to prepare the ceremony.108 The presentation of the dead rival during the funeral procession on June 19, 1349 is noteworthy. A group of riders followed the clergy in the procession, with the first of their number stripped of armour and carrying the deceased earl’s standard. The second horse, accompanied by two knights without helmets on tournament horses, carried his armour (suppellex). The group was completed by a fifth horse where the helmeted knight held Günther von Schwarzburg’s sword and shield. There were also 16 servants with upturned wax candles. Rich cloth covered the bier with the body of the dead king that was carried by 20 earls dressed in black. Charles IV had a place of honour reserved among the mourners, followed by the electors and other magnates. All five of the ceremonially attired horses were brought during the funeral mass to the main altar of the Church of St. Bartholomew where they were sacrificed along with the deceased’s armour, which his friends bought for 400 Rhenish guilders.109 Charles did not participate in the funeral of his royal brother-in-law Philip VI of France in 1350, but he probably had heard reports of the spectacular ceremony, the bills from which have survived to this day.110 He was prevented from attending the May 1364 funeral of another brother-in-law, John the Good, at least partially because of the distance from the site: the second Valois king of France had died in English captivity and was buried in London. A special manual for royal funerals (De exequiis regalibus) was most probably issued in conjunction with the event, which was thought to direct the funeral after the death of English King Edward III in 1377.111 107 According to Brückner, Bildnis und Brauch, p. 37. 108 The same opinion is in Brückner, “Roß und Reiter,” p. 156, who pointed out a similar repraesentatio during the funeral of French nobleman Du Guesclin. See also Giesey, The Royal Funeral Ceremony, p. 85 and 90. 109 Compare with two versions of the Frankfurt chronicle: Frankfurter Chroniken und annalistische Aufzeichnungen des Mittelalters I, ed. Richard Froning (Frankfurt: Carl Jugel, 1884), pp. 90–1. This singular source was not entirely accurately interpreted in Brückner, Roß und Reiter, pp. 155–6. The dates of the death and funeral were specified by Karl Johnson, Das Königtum Günthers von Schwarzburg. Ein Beitrag zur Reichsgeschichte des XIV. Jahrhunderts (Leipzig: Veit, 1880), pp. 117–25. On the headstone with a noteworthy sculpture of a knight, see Die Parler und der schöne Stil 1350–1400, vol. 1, edited by Anton Legner (Cologne: Kölner Museen, 1978), pp. 245–6. Further details can be found in Meyer, Königsund Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 88–99, and pictures on pp. 43–6. 110 The bills were issued by Jules Viard, “Comptes des obsèques de Philippe VI,” Archives historiques, artistiques et littéraires 2 (1890–1891), pp. 49–53. Cf. Giesey, The Royal Funeral Ceremony, p. 25. 111 On the dating, see Giesey, The Royal Funeral Ceremony, pp. 83–4, with a list of editions in note 22. On the question of his alleged funereal mask, see Brückner, Bildnis und Brauch,

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In terms of contemporary accounts, Charles may have had knowledge of the double funeral of his rival, the Polish King Casimir the Great. The first took place on November 7, 1370, three days after Casimir’s death, but without the presence of his successor, Louis I of Hungary. After arriving in Cracow, Louis was first crowned and two days later (November 17) organised a second funeral for his predecessor that in its magnificence included some elements used in his father Charles I of Hungary’s funeral in 1342.112 As that funeral was organised by his widow Elisabeth of Bosnia, who was also Casimir the Great’s sister, there was speculation that the ceremony took place according to Polish rites.113 The description of Casimir’s second funeral recorded by under-chancellor Johnek of Czarnkow114 is noteworthy for the very similar listing of participants in the procession. It was led by four wagons covered in black cloth, each pulled by four horses. They were followed by 40 knights in full armour on horseback garbed in scarlet, which seemingly acted as an accompaniment to the 12 members of the honour guard that carried banners with coats of arms. The last one carried the banner and coat of arms of the Polish kingdom riding Casimir’s favourite horse outfitted with the king’s finest golden helm, representing “the person of the deceased king.”115 The first part of the procession was separated into lay and monastic clergy by two candle bearers. The place of honour behind the bier was reserved for the new king, the archbishop, and high-ranking church and lay officials. The rest was made up of 400 courtiers dressed in black, followed by burghers and the simple folk of the city. Besides the knight representing the king, the donations to churches and the final act of snapping the banner deserve note.116 We will soon see to what extent the royal rituals were repeated eight years later during Charles IV’s funeral in Prague.

112

113 114

115 116

pp. 72–5. A new explanation of royal theology in connection with the funeral of Edward III was presented by Kristin Marek, “Monarcosomatologie: Drei Körper des Königs. Die Effigies Köning Eduards III. von England,” in Bild und Körper im Mitelalter, ed. Kristin Marek et al. (Munich: Fink, 2006), pp. 185–205. The acceptance of the Hungarian ceremony is discussed by Ewa Sniezynska-Stolot, “Dworski ceremonial pogrzebowy królów polskich w XIV wieku,” in Sztuka i ideologia XIV wieku (Warsaw: Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1975), p. 90; similarities are also admitted by Michał Rożek, Groby królewskie w Krakowie (Cracow: Wydawnictwo literackie, 1977), pp. 63–4. As in Borkowska, “The Funeral Ceremonies,” p. 516. “Kronika Jana z Czarnkowa,” ed. Jan Szlachtowski, in mph II (Warsaw: Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukow, 1961), pp. 646–8. A newer paraphrasing comes from Joannis Dlugossii Annales seu Cronicae incliti regni Poloniae, Liber decimus, (Warsaw: Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1985), pp. 19–21. “Kronika Johna z Czarnkowa,” p. 246: “ipsius regis mortui personam representans”. “Kronika Johna z Czarnkowa,” pp. 646–7: “dextrarium ipsius domini regis meliorem, item subagazo militem armatum veste regali vestitum in ambulatore regio, domino regi magis

130 5

Šmahel

The Funeral of Charles IV – Pompa Funebris

According to an eyewitness report, the king’s body rested on a large bier covered in golden cloth and pillows. It cannot be said with certainty whether this “beautiful bier that was 14 ells long, 4 ells high, and 3 ells wide,” was used as a catafalque.117 The same is true for the baldachin carried in the procession.118 The king’s body was dressed in gold and purple trousers and a purple cloak. On the right side of Charles’s head was the crown of Lombardy, the crown of the Holy Roman Empire was above his head, and the Czech crown was to his left. As the king had the crown of his majesty on his head, these must have been the funeral insignia. The imperial sceptre was at his right, as was the orb and an unsheathed sword while an uncountable number of candles burned around the catafalque. Sounds echoed throughout the ceremonial display of the king’s body (ostensio corporis) as well as throughout all the other parts the ceremony. The ceremonies were accompanied by the rhythmic ringing of bells, exalted cries, and loud expressions of grief. This was an ancient Christian tradition, as the more mourners paid at an Old Testament funeral, the more reverent the ceremony.119 After the display of the body, the second phase, pompa funebris or funeral procession, began on December 11 shortly after midday.120 The organizers probably chose the time of the beginning with respect to the working masses of Prague for whom the spectacle was organised. The course of the four-day procession had to be considered from all aspects as each stop was an expression of the given location’s prestige. It would not be far from the truth to say the funeral was a final replica of the coronation.121 In Charles’s procession, which

117

118 119 120 121

dilecto et meliori, vexilliferis vexilla ferentibus et ipsum militem ipsius regis pesonam repraesentantem praecedentibus, ad altare obtulerunt. Post quorum oblationem, cum vexilla, ut moris est in talibus observari, frangerentur.” The alleged dimensions (length about 8.5m and a width of about 1.8m) are acceptable, only the height of 2.4m seems exaggerated. Different dimensions are listed in Excerpta Boica, pp. 258. A Prague ell measured 0.591m – cf. Ivan Hlaváček, Jaroslav Kašpar and Rostislav Nový, Vademecum pomocných věd historických (Prague: H&H, 1993), p. 144. On the use of the canopy, see Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 106–7. E. g. Adolf Novotný, Biblický slovník (Prague: Česká biblická společnost, 1956), p. 664. The Augsburger Chronik does not give the time of day, which added Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 3, p. 318. This was a broader phenomenon used in Poland as late as the 17th century where the connection of the funeral and coronation and visa-versa was symbolised by the image of the phoenix – see Borkowska, “The Funeral Ceremonies,” p. 532. The question is whether the motif of two phoenixes gazing at each other with a stylised tree of life between them, which decorates a Byzantine brocade originally found in Charles IV’s sarcophagus, has some political symbolism. A reproduction of the motif is in the catalogue to the exhibition 1316 – Kaiser Karl IV. – 1378, München 1978, pp. 159–60, no. 183. It’s also controversial

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incorporated older Czech traditions,122 Vyšehrad played a central role alongside Prague Castle and the cathedrals. This legendary seat of the Přemyslids was also associated with the Vyšehrad Evangeliarium, which mentions the first royal coronation in 1085. Just as Charles made a pilgrimage to Vyšehrad on the eve of his coronation on September 1, 1347 to continue symbolically the Přemyslid tradition,123 the site became an origin point for his last journey. While the course of the procession from the Castle over the Stone Bridge and through the Old Town remained unchanged for three decades, the New Town was now sprawling on the area between the old city and Vyšehrad. Its representatives also wanted to pay their last respects to the city’s founder and the court’s masters of ceremonies did not disappoint them, accepting their offer. As our only testimony does not mention a stop at the cathedral,124 it can be inferred the procession began in the audience hall of the royal palace. The first stop was in the Lesser Town before crossing the Stone Bridge. Here the bier was handed off to 18 Old Town and 12 New Town councillors. Leading burghers carried the bier from the Dominican church of St. Clement to the other side of the bridge, handing it off to other dignified individuals in front of the New Town hall. Each group numbered 30 men, which suggests they took turns carrying the heavy bier. It is also possible they walked alongside the bier as a sort of honour guard and the burden was carried by servants, the feet of which were the only things visible from under the black drapes. That was the case on French miniatures depicting the royal funerals of Charles VI and Charles VII.125

122

123 124 125

whether the cloth fragment comes from the grave of Charles IV, with discrepancies pointed out by Nina Bažantová, Pohřební roucha českých králů (Prague: Koniasch Latin Press, 1993), pp. 8–14; More recently in Bravermanová and Lutovský, Hroby, hrobky a pohřebiště, pp. 202–3 and Karel Otavský, “Textilní fragmenty z královské hrobky v pražské katedrále sv. Víta,” in Císař Karel IV. 1316–2916, eds. Jiří Fajt and Markus Hörsch (Prague: Národní galerie v Praze, 2016), pp. 608–10. More on this in Rudolf Urbánek, “K české pověsti královské,” Časopis společnosti přátel starožitností českých 24 (1916), p. 51; Václav Žůrek, “Korunovační řád Karla IV. jako ritualizovaný panovnický program,” Časopis Národního muzea 176 (2007), pp. 105–143, here pp. 114–5; Ordo ad coronandum regem Boemorum were last published by Jiří Kuthan and Miroslav Šmied, Korunovační řád českých králů (Prague: Filozofická fakulta Univerzity Karlovy, 2009), here at p. 220. Briefly discussed in Spěváček, Karel IV. Život a dílo, p. 335. A shorter stop in the St. Vitus cathedral assumed Spěváček, Karel IV. Život a dílo, p. 480, and afterwards Kavka, Am Hofe Karls IV., p. 121, as well. Cf. the illumination showing the bier with the body of Charles IV († 1422) in ms Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, fr. 5054, fol. 27 – reproduced in Ralph E. Giesey, Cérémonial et puissance souveraine. France, XV e–XVIIe siècles (Paris: Armand Colin, 1987), ill. 1. Cf. images of the funeral procession with the body of Charles IV departing from the Hotel Saint-Pol. in a codex of the same library, ms. fr. 2691, fol. 1, which is reproduced in Paris et Charles V. Arts et Architecture, ed. Frédéric Pleybert (Paris: Mairie de Paris, 2001), p. 27.

132

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The procession probably made its way around the Old Town Hall through the Havel market to the New Town. In any case, the next stop was the Emmaus Monastery. From there, 30 burghers dressed in black carried the bier with the king’s body to the chapter church of St. Peter and St. Paul at Vyšehrad. The procession was led by 564 lightbearers.126 Prague guilds purchased 300 candles for their members while the old and new towns bought black clothing and candles for 150 leading tradesmen. 114 lightbearers from King Wenceslas IV’s retinue closed out the lead group. The councils of both Prague towns also paid for the participation of 28 juratory officials in black clothing with embroidered silk scarves.127 The officials were probably there to separate the lightbearers from the rest of the procession, which included pupils of 18 parish schools and their teachers, canons from the cathedrals and their students, monks from all the monasteries and abbeys, as well as the students and professors of both Prague universities. This is the order presented by our main witness whose count of 7,000 university students needs to be reduced by a factor of five.128 A younger university statute from 1392 gives a processional order from the front beginning with the rector and theologians all the way to the rear rows of bachelors.129 However, the Emperor’s funeral procession had a different order: the closer to the dead king, the closer the relationship to him and therefore the greater the expression of dignity. It is unclear whether the nuns from the 7 convents took part in the procession, nor is it known whether the populous lay clergy participated, with the exception of the aforementioned canons. However, it is likely that high-ranking prelates and lay clergy attended Charles’s funeral according to analogous royal funerals in other countries.130

126 Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 3, p. 318, correctly lists this number according to information from an eyewitness. Contrarily, Spěváček, Karel IV. Život a dílo, p. 480; Kavka, Am Hofe Karls IV., p. 122, only list candlebearers that were burghers, which mistakenly included officials to be discussed below. 127 On officials and their obligations, see Winter, Dějiny řemesel, p. 104. 128 The number of parish schools was given exactly, with 11 in Old Town and 7 in New Town at the time – cf. Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 3, p. 263. On the number of university students, see František Šmahel, Pražské universitní studentstvo v předrevolučním období 1399–1419 (Prague, 1967), pp. 32–7. 129 Statuta Universitatis Pragensis, eds. Antonius Dittrich and Antonius Spirk (Prague: Joannis Spurny, 1848), pp. 18–9. On conflicts arising from the order used during Frederick III’s funeral, see Zelfel, Ableben und Begräbnis Friedrichs III, pp. 102–3 and Meyer, Königsund Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 180–1. 130 See also Giesey, The Royal Funeral Ceremony, pp. 38–40; Borkowska, “The Funeral Ceremonies,” p. 522.

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A group of standard bearers announced the royal and imperial majesty of the deceased sovereign. The leading banner made of red silk was followed by the banners of the so-called secondary Czech crown lands,131 the Czech Kingdom, and the Holy Roman Empire. Each banner was accompanied by three riders in armour with the same symbols. The group was rounded off by a knight carrying an ermine pelt covered helmet with a gold crown in one hand and an unsheathed sword with the point facing down in the other. He was also accompanied by three men on horseback with imperial banners and coats of arms. The observer noted that the yellow cavalry banner with the black imperial eagle was turned upside down. Table 3.1

The make-up of the Charles IV’s funeral procession

Group

Number of Mourners

Head of the Procession – Lightbearers Lightbearers from Prague’s guilds City commerce officials Lightbearers from Prague’s city councils Lightbearers from King Wenceslas IV

360 28 150 114

Clergy, Students, University Teachers and pupils of parish schools Teachers and students of chapter schools Students of monastic studies Teachers and students of universities Parish priests, vicars, preachers Monks and nuns Prelates and bishops

about 400 about 80 about 60 about 800 about 200 ? ?

Colour of Clothing, etc.

black clothing, silk scarves black clothing black clothing

131 A report in the “Augsburger Chronik von 1368–1406,” p. 61, gives the following order: the lands of Bautzen, the lands of Görlitz, the Principality of Luxembourg, Lower Lusatia, the Margraviate of Moravia, the Dutchy of Świdnica and the Dutchy of Wrocław. A collection of symbols but not their order corresponds to the heraldic decoration of the Old Town bridge tower from 1373–1377 and a newer heraldic frieze at Točník Castle. See Josef Petráň, Český znak (Prague: Ministerstvo kultury ČSR, 1970), pp. 33–8; Dobroslava Menclová, České hrady, vol. 2 (Prague: Odeon, 1972), pp. 168–71. These lists lacked the Dutchy of Nysa.

134 Table 3.1

Šmahel The make-up of the Charles IV’s funeral procession (cont.)

Group

Number of Mourners

Colour of Clothing, etc.

Banners and Knights Lead banner Banner of (Lower) Lusatia Banner of Bautzen (Upper Lusatia)

1 1+3 1+3

Banner of Wrocław

1+3

Banner of Görlitz

1+3

Banner of Świdnica

1+3

Banner of Luxembourg

1 [+ 3 ?]

Banner of Moravia Banner of the Kingdom of Bohemia Symbol of the Roman Empire A knight with a helmet with a gold crown

1+3 1+3 1 [+ 3 ?] 1

A knight with a drawn sword

1

A knight with the banner of the Holy Empire A knight with a shiny eagle

1 1

A knight with a yellow cavalry banner

1

a banner of red silk white with a red ox A battlement in a white field a black eagle in a yellow field a half flag, a white lion in a red field a half-black, half-red eagle in a white field a red lion on a blue-striped field a red eagle on a white field a white lion in a red field a black eagle in a gold field a helmet covered in stoat pelt the sword points to the ground a white cross with a slight tail in a red field a black eagle in a silver field a black imperial eagle with its head facing down

Bier with the body of Charles IV Banner lords / burghers carrying the bier Knights carrying a baldachin

30 12

black clothing a gold canopy

Last Moments, Funerals, and Graves of the Bohemian Kings Table 3.1

135

The make-up of the Charles IV’s funeral procession (cont.)

Group

Funeral guest, participants Wenceslas IV (?), brothers and uncles Empress Elizabeth of Pomerania, Queen Joanna of Bavaria, Margrave Agnes of Oppeln and ladies in waiting Banner lords, knights, noblemen Burghers Inhabitants of Prague and the countryside

Number of Mourners

Colour of Clothing, etc.

?

20 wagons 500 26 wagons ?

the wagons were covered by black cloth dressed in black

Note: Those in italics are groups assumed to have taken part.

The sword pointing toward the ground and the upturned banner suggested these implements had played their earthly role. It is very probable the banners were followed by lords, knights, and other noblemen dressed in black who numbered some 500, according to the eyewitness.132 Polish kings had different funeral processions, so there could have been other possibilities.133 The golden canopy above the bier was carried by 12 knights who were probably replaced by prominent burghers at stops along the way. It is noteworthy that Charles’s son, the crowned Czech and Roman King Wenceslas IV, is not mentioned by the witness, but the presence of the successor was an intrinsic part of foreign royal funerals.134 The account also does not mention the many sons, cousins, and other male relatives of the dead sovereign. The participation of female relatives, however, was carried out according to tradition: Empress Elisabeth of Pomerania, followed by Queen Joanna of Bavaria, and Moravian Margrave Agnes of Oppeln, the wife of Jobst of Moravia. They all rode (probably along with their young children) in the company of ladies in waiting in 20 wagons cloaked in black. The most prominent women of Prague 132 “Augsburger Chronik von 1368–1406”, p. 61. 133 Compare with Rożek, Ordo funebris, pp. 58–68; Borkowska, “The Funeral Ceremonies,” pp. 522–8. 134 His presence was assumed by Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 3, p. 319 and also by Kavka, Am Hofe Karls IV., p. 122. On French analogies, see Giesey, The Royal Funeral Ceremony, chapter 4.

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followed in 26 wagons.135 Everyone who was someone in contemporary Prague either walked or rode in the funeral procession. The simple folk stood along the route because the spectacle would be meaningless without an audience. Pompa funebris, like any other ceremony, was first and foremost a representation of majesty. The route was rather long and today would require three hours to travel without any stops. It probably took much longer as the much shorter procession of Maximillian II took at least three hours.136 However, it is possible observers joined the procession after it passed, as was the case of the funeral of Ladislaus Posthumous in November 1457.137 Crowds attending the funeral of Emperor Maximillian II in March 1577 created a dangerous rush when one royal servant began throwing memorial coins.138 This was probably an older Austrian tradition as Austrian nobles gave out money during the funeral of Ladislaus Posthumous.139 The body remained on display overnight in the church of St. Peter and Paul bathed in the light of hundreds of candles, which were also burning in other Prague churches. After morning mass on Sunday, December 12, the procession embarked on its way to the Minorite church of St. James in the Old Town.140 Charles’s body spent the night of Monday, December 13 in the church of St. Mary’s at the Order of Knights of Malta’s convent in the Lesser Town.141 Honours were thus bestowed upon all of Prague’s constituent towns and significant religious orders. It is not known whether or to what extent the funeral procession was the same as it moved from place to place day after day. Regardless, it was an exhausting and costly endeavour. Most of the expenditures were of course paid by Prague’s burghers and other communities, but the costs were significant even for prelates and nobles. 135 “Augsburger Chronik von 1368–1406,” p. 60, some manuscripts list 10 more carts. The cart numbers are in an acceptable range, but their reliability cannot be guaranteed as is the case with other figures in this record. 136 Sněmy české od léta 1526 až po naši dobu, vol. 5, p. 132, num.76. 137 Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, p. 121. 138 See also Rosemarie Vocelka, “Die Begräbnisfeierlichkeiten für Kaiser Maximilian II. 1576/77,” Mitteilungen des Institus für österreichische Geschichtsforschung 84 (1976), pp. 115–6; Janáček, Rudolf II., pp. 166–7. 139 Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, p. 121. The poor received only cloth during the Vienese funeral of Frederick III, as in Zelfel, Ableben und Begräbnis, p. 114. 140 The main report is supplemented by Annotationes in ms Olomouc, University Library, M II 15, fol. 4r, see Šmahel, Zur politischen Präsentation, p. 34. See also for the stops during the funeral of Joanna of Bavaria. The large Church of St. James served to display the remains of Emperor Maximilian II in 1577, more in Janáček, Rudolf II., p. 163. 141 Libor Jan, “Pohřební obřady za Karla IV. v kostele Panny Marie Na konci mostu,” in Verba in imaginibus. Františku Šmahelovi k 70. Narozeninám, eds. Martin Nodl and Petr Sommer (Prague: Argo, 2004), pp. 189–92.

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6

137

The Funeral of Charles IV – Ceremonies, Speeches, and Sacrifices

On the last day of the funeral, Wednesday, December 15, 1378, the dead sovereign was put on display in St. Vitus Cathedral and hundreds of candles burned around the catafalque.142 Seven bishops assisted the Cardinal and Archbishop of Prague who administered the choral funeral mass, as did several suffragans, a throng of abbots, abbesses, and other canons with metres. The participation of the bishops of Bamberg and Regensburg probably required a delay in the final ceremonies. The main and most reliable source, the so-called “Annotationes,” does not name the archbishop or the bishops, but it is probably Prague Primate John Očko of Vlašim, who was the first Czech to be named cardinal shortly before the funeral.143 It is also beyond all doubt that Očko’s successor John of Jenštejn took part in the requiem as the bishop of Meissen. It will soon be clear that both nominal identifications will play a role in attributing the main funeral sermon. We know very little about the actual liturgy of the ceremony. Analogously, it can be expected the mass was performed in a black robe without the Gloria Patri, Credo, or last blessing according to Roman rites.144 A significant if not the main part of the funeral was the speeches, mostly in the form of sermons. As mass was performed in each of the churches where the Emperor’s body stayed for at least a while, each stop probably had at least one sermon. In the church of the Order of Maltese Knights in the Lesser Town, the preacher was the minorite Henry from Vildštejn, who was the bishop of the Albanian town of Korja in 1372–1383. He preached in Prague in 1370 and acquired a certain notoriety as a preacher in Avignon and Vienna.145 Whoever thought the preacher would list the dead Emperor’s achievements in his speech would hardly have believed their ears, except for those familiar 142 “The Augsburger Chronik von 1368–1406,” p. 61, puts the number at about 500. 143 The bishops are listed by the author of the Annotationes, in ms Olomouc, University Library, M II 15, fol. 4r, see note 138: “In crastino feria quarta quatuor temporum [15. XII.] peracto offertorio cum magna sollemnitate traditus est sepulture archiepiscopo seu cardinali predicto, Misnensi, Pamburgensi, Ratisponensi, Olomucensi, Luthomyslensi et ipsius suffraganeo ac suffraganeo Pragensi episcopis et multis abbatibus presentibus.” 144 Naz, “Funérailles,” col. 916–8; Reiner Kaczynski, “Seelenmesse,” Lexikon des Mittelaters VII, col. 1679–80. More reports are only of the ceremonies during the funeral of Frederick III as described by Zelfel, Ableben und Begräbnis, pp. 108–11 and Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 183–5. 145 Cf. Helmut Bansa, “Heinrich von Wildenstein und seine Leichenpredigten auf Kaiser Karl IV.,” Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters 24 (1968), pp. 187–223. The author expressed the supposition that Henry of Vildštejn was of Czech origin, which is the sentiment generally expressed in the literature. See also Luigi Tavano, “Heinrich von (Enrico di) Wildenstein,” in: Die Bischöfe des heiligen Römischen Reiches 1198 bis 1448, ed. Erwin Gatz (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 2001), p. 817.

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with his preaching style. But even they may have been surprised, however, because Henry from Vildštejn lost all inhibition in his speech. It was packed with Biblical quotes that he connected with short sentences into a pre-determined scheme.146 Henry placed emphasis on the verses where he spoke for himself. These used double syllable rhymes both at the end and in the middle of individual verses. As an example of his poetry, here are some of the verses where Henry told the “honourable fathers” (as he addressed his audience), what the Emperor was like while he lived: “exaltatus regie sceptro dignitatis, / illustratus signaculo sancte trinitatis, / ductor gratus in omnibus creatis, / cum sanctis deputatus et angelis beatis, / expiatus cruore agni gratis”.147 Although Henry of Vildštejn claims to have given his speech while standing over the body of Charles IV on December 14, 1378 in the Knights of Malta’s church of St. Mary, the actual record itself seems more like a concept than a final text.148 The author of the sermon given standing over the Emperor’s coffin was considered by older researchers to be John Očko of Vlašim.149 It was only Jaroslav Kadlec who suggested the idea that the speech was given by his successor John of Jenštejn.150 The date of Jenštejn’s ascension to the post of archbishop is disputed.151 If Jenštejn officially took office on November 30, 1378, the honour of giving the funeral sermon would have been his. It seems the reality was John of Jenštejn gave the speech on orders from John Očko of Vlašim, who remained in active service until March. The case of the second speech, offered by the Rector and Master of Theology from Paris’s Sorbonne and a Prague scholastic, was very similar. The texts of all three surviving manuscripts say that Master Adalbert prepared the sermon “de mandato domini nostri Iohannis, archiepiscopi Pragensis et legati sancte 146 Bansa, “Heinrich von Wildenstein,” pp. 164–202 (analysis), 203–11 (edition). 147 Bansa, “Heinrich von Wildenstein,” p. 204. 148 Recently to this topic Vojtěch Večeře “Oslava Karla IV. v pohřebních kázáních Jindřicha z Vildštejna jako příklad morálně exhortativního dosahu funerální homiletiky,” Mediaevalia Historica Bohemica 22 (2019), pp. 73–95. 149 The edition by Josef Emler issued under the title “Řeč arcibiskupa pražského Johna Očka z Vlašimi,” frb III, pp. 421–32. 150 Jaroslav Kadlec, “L’oeuvre homilétique de Jean de Jenštejn,” Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale 30 (1963), pp. 299–323. This attribution was considered certain by Josef Tříška, “Přispěvky k středověké literární universitě III,” AUC – HUCP 10/1 (1969), p. 28; Franz Machilek, “Privatfrömmigkeit und Staatsfrömmigkeit,” in Kaiser Karl IV. Staatsmann und Mäzen, ed. Ferdinand Seibt (Munich: Prestel, 1978), p. 101; Pavel Spunar, Repertorium auctorum Bohemorum provectum idearum post universitatem Pragensem conditam illustrans, vol. 1, Studia Copernicana XXV (Wrocław : Institutum Ossilinianum, 1985), p. 59, no. 69/1. 151 Kadlec’s attribution was doubted from this perspective by Spěváček, Karel IV. Život a dílo, p. 482, n. 2; and later by Kavka, Vláda Karla IV. za jeho císařství (1355–1378), vol. 2, p. 250, n. 55; Bobková, Velké dějiny zemí Koruny české, vol. IVa, pp. 459–60.

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Romane ecclesie reverendissimi.”152 As it happens, John of Jenštejn was the second in line among the standing Prague prelates. He filed the sermon among the famous collection of his own works in the manuscripts in the Vatican Library Vat. Lat. 1122 (fol. 210ra–215ra), which means that we can name him as its author with a good amount of certainty.153 This does not clear up the uncertainties surrounding both funereal sermons. Both survive only in Latin and their length would require audiences listening to about three hours of speech in a cold church. Not only that, but most of the guests from the lay estates would not understand the text. It is noteworthy that the lay magnates only tapped Adalbert of Ježov while the Archbishop turned to “a highly-respected father” (reverendissimi patres). In light of these facts, should both sermons be considered more literary works designed for posterity and contemporary intellectuals, while the actual sermons given over the body were only summaries in Czech or German? Although both speeches have the status of a sermon to the clergy (ad clerum), they are sources that deserve more detailed examination. In the first part of his sermon, John of Jenštejn uses many biblical quotes to express sorrow over the Emperor’s death as the protector of the faith and church.154 Then, according to scholastic rules (modo scholastico), he listed all his sovereign and Christian virtues, which were followed by the seven possibilities for mercy that he performed thanks to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. Charles was chiefly given the gift of wisdom, and because he knew the books of King Solomon (who was ignorant of Charles’s works), he thus knew more than the legendary ruler. Moreover, Charles was an emperor who ruled over the entire Christendom, while Solomon only ruled over the Israelites. While Solomon used his wisdom to wage war, Charles used it to strengthen peace. The former built a temple of God, while the latter decorated it in gold and jewels. On top of that, while Solomon abandoned the lord, Charles was a faithful servant to the end, earning eternal salvation.155 152 The funeral speech given by Vojtěch Raňkův of Ježov edited from ms Prague, Národní knihovna České republiky (hereafter NK ČR), XIV C 16, ed. Ferdinand Tadra, frb III, pp. 433–441; and later from this and two other manuscripts (ms Prague, APH KMK, F 14 and Prague, NK ČR, XIX A 8), Jaroslav Kadlec, Leben und Schriften des Prager Magisters Adalbert Rankonis de Ericinio (Münster: Aschendorff, 1971), pp. 155–74, n. 12. 153 I deal with this question in detail in the article “Kdo pronesl smuteční řeč při pohřbu císaře Karla IV.?,” pp. 215–20. 154 “Řeč arcibiskupa pražského Johna Očka z Vlašimi,” pp. 423–6. 155 Hans Patze, “‘Salomon sedebit super solium meum,’ Die Konsistorialrede Clemens’ VI. Anläßlich der Wahl Karls IV.,” Blätter für deutsche Landesgeschichte 114 (1978) (Kaiser Karl IV. 1316–1378. Forschungen über Kaiser und Reich), pp. 33–4, expressed the idea that the author of the sermon knew the consistoral speeches of Arnošt of Pardubice and

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The second gift from the Holy Spirit was Charles’s intellect (spiritus intellectus). He was able to communicate in almost all Christian languages and was exceptionally proficient in a number of them, including his native Czech as well as German, Latin, French, Lombard, and Tuscan. Other gifts from the Holy Spirit were his ability to listen to advice and his strength of judgement. The least praiseworthy of Charles’s virtues was his expansive intellect (scientia), which was the match of any doctor of theology and one of the reasons for his founding a university in Prague along with many colleges. Charles’s sixth gift from the Holy Spirit was his piety expressed in his care for the poor, widows, and orphans. The last gift was that all the actions he undertook were in accordance with the four cardinal virtues: wisdom, justice, courage, and moderation. It is no surprise that Jenštejn proclaimed Charles a saint in front of the attendees, giving seven reasons: being anointed with holy oils, his noble dignity, meticulous care for all sacred matters (negotia sancta), many miracles (miracula) and prophetic visions, a deep devotion while accepting the altar sacraments, countless other virtues including regular prayer, and finally accepting all seven holy sacraments. We will leave our speaker here, having acquired a sufficient idea of his funereal sermon. While John of Jenštejn used a wealth of scholastic arguments in his speech, Adalbert Raňkův used rhetorical figures in his laudatio funebris. He also deployed many biblical quotes, but also gave significant space to lay authors, speakers, and poets. He cited Aristotle, Cicero, Seneca, Valerius Maximus, Quintus Horatius Flaccus, Marcus Aenneaus Lucanus, Sidonius Apolinnaris, Claudian, and Cassiodorus, and the church fathers St. Augustin and St. Jerome, as well as newer authors like Galfredus de Vino Salvo, little-known English poet Johannes de Alta Vita and his personal favorite Robert Grosseteste.156 The speech was decorated with rich verses. I counted almost 100 in 12 places. One of the excerpts of Claudian’s work to honour the consul Stilicho has 32 verses. Even experts in Latin would have exceptional difficulty understanding Adalbert’s text, not to mention the flood of little-known place names. There is doubt whether the audience would be able to assess the uneven work. A personified Bohemia, which Charles treated so well and which had no excuse to complain, appears several times. One thing is clear on the first reading: Adalbert’s speech was meant to be delivered only in Latin. No one would have Pope Clement VI. given in Avignon on November 5 and 6, 1346 during the election of Charles IV as Roman King. Both compared Charles IV to King Solomon. 156 Vojtěch chose as the theme of his sermon a quote from Jeremiah’s Book of Lamentations I, 16: “This is why I weep / and my eyes overflow with tears.” See Kadlec, Leben und Schriften, pp. 155–74 and 178.

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been able to provide a parallel translation to Czech or German, even a shortened summary. Our scholastic claims that not only did the Holy Roman Empire and the great Czech Kingdom lose their protector, but so did all of Christendom. This introduction, which justified mournful cries and tears, was followed by a warning of warriors cheered on by a hostile crowd and prepared for battle and the pillaging that follows. Adalbert says those calls can already be heard and used biblical quotes to point out: “Those who hate the Czechs lifted their heads at the death of the Emperor. But you, the god of Israel, do not give up the heritage of our efforts for foreign nations to trample! Don’t subject us to the disdain of neighbours and to the laughter of our enemies.”157 Our speaker seemed to share honestly this idea, speaking elsewhere about the despair among the Italians and Germans. The “most Christian” Emperor provided exemplarily rule to all his lands and he was a true servant of God like a second King Josiah and as “alter Constantinus” respected and listened to the church and its clerics.158 Moreover, he defended the church’s old privileges and generously granted new ones to the masters and students of his newly-founded Prague university. Fortuitously, the orphaned lands had hope because the burden of imperial worries and care for the Czech Kingdom was taken up by Charles’s son, “the brightest prince” Wenceslas.159 Afterwards, offertory was given to the metropolitan cathedral. Despite offerenda being part of burial rites since the fourth Lateran Council in 1215,160 the sacrifice of the funereal horses inside the church itself leave the impression of an ancient practice. An older opinion held that pre-German rites called for a warrior to be accompanied on his trip to the afterlife by clothing, weapons, and

157 Kadlec, Leben und Schriften, p. 157. 158 Charles IV also appears as an “alter Constantinus” in the Eulogy of John of Jenštejn in frb III, p. 429. For literary comparison, see Rudolf Chadraba, “Tradice druhého Konstantina a řecko-perská antiteze v umění Karla IV.,” Umění 16 (1968), pp. 567–603; Machilek, “Privatfrömmigkeit und Staatsfrömmigkeit,” p. 94; Wolfgang Schmid, “Von Konstantinopel über Prag nach Trier: Das Haupt der hl. Helena,” in Kunst als Herrschaftsinstrument. Böhmen und das Heilige Römische Reich unter den Luxemburgern im europäischen Kontext (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2009), p. 314. A similar apostrophe in the form of Constantine’s banner (vexillum Constantini) was pointed out by Bernd-Ulrich Hergemöller, Cogor adversum te. Drei Studien zum literarisch-theologischen Profil Karls IV. und seiner Kanzlei (Warendorf: Fahlbusch, 1999), p. 106 and 316. 159 Both speeches according to David L. d’Avray, Death and the prince. Memorial preaching before 1350 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), pp. 225–6, did not deviate from the older traditions of the genre. 160 Cf. Naz, “Funérailles,” col. 926.

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horses.161 However, Wolfgang Brückner attempted to explain this late medieval act as symbolic recognition of military service to God (sacramentum militare) in accordance with the ideals of a Christian knight (miles christianus) in the offertory part of the funeral mass.162 Although it is not known whether the sacrifice of horses, equipment, and weapons was a reminder of older gifts for the recovery of the Holy Land, they cannot be compared with the mandatory funeral expenditures (portio canonica).163 The parade of horses covered in black around the altar that enraged Hussite nobles during the funeral of King Ladislaus Posthumous in 1457 was not just a simple spectacle, but a ritually defined act of presenting arms on the church altar.164 Basically, this was a symbolic return of a worldly fief to the imperial or national patron associated with the ascension of the deceased sovereign to God’s immediate service. While French funeral rites were ignorant of the offer of horses until 1378, the ritual is documented before that date in England, Germany, and Poland.165 The woodcut depicting the funeral mass for Emperor Friedrich III shows the heads of several horses to the left of the main altar as well as the sarcophagus.166 What took place in Prague was thus nothing new. All banners were sacrificed along with the 26 horses in the funeral procession. The coat of arms carried by the magnates was also an offering as was the helmet decorated with a crown alternatively carried by the Margrave of Moravia Jobst and the Margrave of Meissen Frederic III.167 King Wenceslas took part in the offertory together with the Empress, the magnates, and the ladies-in-waiting. The Empress, in golden robes, could not give the crown away herself because of her grief, and thus charged young Queen Johanna with the task. The knight in armour riding under the golden canopy that had covered the Emperor’s dead body symbolically sacrificed himself at the end of the procession with the last horse. The meaning of this last character is unclear. It may have been the same knight that held the Emperor’s sword upside down in the funeral procession. The question is whether the knight represented the dead king until the moment the sovereign was placed into the grave as was 161 162 163 164 165 166

See esp. Brunner, “Der Totenteil in germanischen Rechten,” pp. 306–8. Brückner, Roß und Ritter, pp. 163–8; Borkowska, “The Funeral Ceremonies,” p. 517. For more, see Naz, “Funérailles,” pp. 927–8. Cf. Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, p. 121. Brückner, Roß und Ritter, pp. 155–61; Borkowska, “The Funeral Ceremonies,” pp. 517–8. A woodcut from the incomplete autobiography of Emperor Maxmilian I. Kaiser Maximilians I. Weisskunig, ed. Theodor Musper (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1956), vol. 2, reprinted by Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, fig. 86. 167 According to Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 3, p. 320, only Margrave Jošt carried the helm.

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the case during the funeral of Polish King Casimir.168 It cannot be ruled out that Wenceslas did not appear until the actual funeral, which would faintly resemble rituals used to bury French kings where the king was represented by a living knight and not an effigy.169 Even though Wenceslas IV was legitimately crowned Czech and Roman king, there was a need to mark the point when he took up his own royal dignity. If this was the moment his deceased predecessor was interred in his grave, then the knight could have symbolised the presence of Charles IV. The call of “The king is dead, long live the king!” was not used in Prague, but it could have been supplanted by a different rite, such as breaking the seal, sword, banner, or other insignia as used in the funeral of Ladislaus Posthumous170 as well as partially at the end of the funeral of Louis II of Hungary.171 This act was also part of the end of Polish royal funerals in the period between the 14th and 16th centuries.172 Gold-covered imitations of the royal insignia were placed into a tin coffin along with the king’s body wrapped in gold-embroidered cloth, his riding shield, and an imperial war banner with the eagle’s head facing down.173 With the body in the coffin, the 17-day funeral of Charles IV came to an end. It is not clear, however, whether the crypt was sealed at the same time as biblical tradition dictated it, which should only happen 30 days after death.174 That practice was rather rare, but it was used in the 14th century funeral of Günther of Schwarzburg.175 7

A Special Case: The Three Funerals of King Wenceslas IV

Czech and erstwhile Roman king Wenceslas IV died in his country seat just before the great Hussite uprising on Wednesday, August 16, 1419. The body of the poor king was laid to rest only after a series of bizarre episodes typical for 168 Borkowska, “The Funeral Ceremonies,” p. 515. 169 Personal and other research was summarised by Giesey, “Cérémonial et puissance souveraine,” pp. 25–31. 170 Cf. Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, pp. 121–122. All symbols of the lands were broken during the funeral of Polish King Kazimir (see Joannis Dlugossii Annales, p. 20), while all the sacrificed banners and erbs from the funeral of Frederick III were hung on the walls of the cathedral of St. Stephen, see Zelfel, Ableben und Begräbnis, pp. 113–7. 171 Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 9 (Prague, 1894), p. 420. 172 Borkowska, “The Funeral Ceremonies,” pp. 515–6, 525. 173 All according to “Augsburger Chronik von 1368–1406,” p. 62. 174 Cf. Novotný, Biblický slovník, p. 664 and Theologische Realenzyklopädie, vol. V (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1980), entry “Bestattung II,” pp. 734–8. 175 See more in Brückner, Roß und Ritter, p. 156.

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revolutionary times. His remains were buried three times over five years. Just after death or the next day at the latest, the king’s body was embalmed and prepared for transport from Nový hrad near Kunratice to Prague Castle.176 Queen Sophia was wracked with fear that the king’s body could be desecrated as a result of the disturbances in the city and gave the order to transfer his remains to the Vyšehrad fortress at dawn on Friday, August 18. However, a fire that consumed the Carthusian monastery on the other side of the Vltava frightened the servants so much that they did not dare bring Wenceslas’s body to Prague Castle and temporarily interred the coffin with his body in the chapter church of St. Peter and St. Paul. Only during the night and early hours of Monday did the body start its trip, first to Zbraslav before travelling by water to a landing below Prague Castle.177 Wenceslas was then laid to rest in the St. Wenceslas Chapel of the Prague cathedral in a simple burial robe inside a wooden coffin until Saturday, September 30, when the body was placed in a tin coffin. A ceremonial funeral was out of the question at the time, and thus the next night the coffin returned to Zbraslav where Wenceslas wished to be buried. Everything was done in secret and the cart was only accompanied by two servants. In the Zbraslav church, John performed the royal funereal rites that could take place only in the presence of monks, local residents, and other attendees.178 176 The circumstances of Wencelslas IV’s first funeral were reliably recounted on the basis of surviving documents by Václav Vladivoj Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 4 (Prague: František Řiwnáč, 1899), pp. 6–7, 13–4. The application of pleasant-smelling ointments “prout mos est regum condire corpora” is mentioned in the report “De origine Taboritarum et de morte Wenceslai IV”. Cf. the unsatisfactory edition by Konstantin Höfler, Geschichtschreiber der husitischen Bewegung in Böhmen I, p. 533. According to Josef V. Šimák, “K dějepisectví doby husitské,” ČČH 26 (1920), pp. 171–5, this is a record in the form of a copy from 1422. If the author was Abbot John from the Zbraslav monastery, the witness was well-informed. Josef Pekař, Žižka a jeho doba (Prague: Odeon, 1992), vol. 2, p. 233, n. 1, concluded the author could have also been a member of the court. 177 The timing of transports from Vyšehrad and eventually to Zbraslav is listed in Chronicon Universitatis Pragensis, ed. Jaroslav Goll, frb V (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1893), p. 581. According to Petr Čornej, “Tzv. kronika univerzity pražské a její místo v husitské historiografii,” AUC-HUCP 23/1 (1983), p. 21, the second half of this compilation is made up of various reports from 1414–1421. In my evaluation this does not, however, exclude the possible authenticity of this testimony. 178 Both listed sources compliment one another. The presences of religiouses, fisherman, and bakers is mentioned in Laurentii de Brzezowa Historia hussitica, frb V, p. 346, which Pope Pius II allegedly used for his Česká historie – cf. Aenae Silvii Historia Bohemica, eds. Dana Martínková, Alena Hadravová and Jiří Matl (Prague: Koniasch Latin Press, 1998), pp. 106–7, 140–1. Żagań Abbot Ludolf knew about Wenceslas’s headstone and his delayed funeral – see Loserth, “Beiträge III. Der Tractatus de longevo schismate,” p. 478. A brief report about the funeral in Zbraslav was also in “Chronicon Bohemie, alias Pragense,” in Geschichtschreiber der hussitischen Bewegung in Böhmen I, p. 5.

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The coffin was later placed into the grave (sepulcrum) that Wenceslas IV had created during his lifetime. The morbid nature of the events that took place in the royal crypt less than a year later shocked the father of modern Czech historiography, František Palacký, who left them out of his monumental History of the Czech Nation in Bohemia and Moravia.179 On August 10, 1420, armed Taborites who had effectively helped repulse the first crusade sent against Prague marched on Zbraslav led by radical preacher Václav Koranda. They entered the unguarded monastery, destroyed ceremonial items, and helped themselves to the wine in the cellars according to the record from Hussite chronicler Vavřinec of Březové, who chided the drunk Taborite allies for initiating an unsuccessful attack on the royal garrison at Vyšehrad upon their return.180 It is noteworthy that the well-informed Prague chronicler, who was obsessive in his drive to document every crime committed by the Taborite brothers, did not record any of the shocking acts that took place in connection with the grave of Wenceslas IV. What actually happened at Zbraslav on August 10, 1420, is thus a matter of conjecture as the testimony of other sources is not entirely reliable. Shortly before his death in August 1422, Abbot Ludolf of Żagań recorded the shocking reports from the heretical lands in his tract “On the Long-running Schism.” One of the reports alleges that the Hussites only burned Wenceslas IV’s remains after entering the monastery. For better orientation, I will label this version of events as case A. It would be a mistake to believe that Ludolf was enraged by the Taborites as he chastised Wenceslas IV at every opportunity. The sovereign, whom Ludolf considered a supporter of the Hussite heresy, deserved the flames that he had escaped during his lifetime.181 Other people told Ludolf that the wild band was not able to complete their intentions.182 If 179 The German version under the title Geschichte von Böhmen. It is interesting to note that he himself published one of the accounts: Staré letopisové čeští od roku 1378 do 1527, ed. František Palacký (Prague: J.H. Pospíšil, 1829), pp. 25–6. 180 Laurentii de Brzezowa Historia Hussitica, p. 399. 181 Loserth, “Beiträge III. Der Tractatus de longevo schismate,” p. 478. Cf. Franz Machilek, Ludolf von Sagan und seine Stellung in der Auseinandersetzung um Konziliarismus und Hussitismus (Munich: Robert Lerche, 1967), p. 157. More on Abbot Ludolf’s extremely negative views of King Wenceslas also on pp. 156–8. 182 The sources that mistakenly mention Žižka’s presence at Zbraslav are listed by Pekař, Žižka a jeho doba IV, p. 59, n. 6. This should be supplemented by the continuation of “De origine Taboritarum et de morte Wenceslai,” which is found in the compilation titled Incidencia in the ms Prague, NK ČR, XXIII G 27, where a mention of Žižka can be found on fol. 233v–234r. The context suggests that three years after Wenceslas’s death “Zischka sabbato ipso die Laurencii per Wiclefistas corpus Wenzeslai regis Bohemie fecit exhumari et ossa eius in ecclesia dispergi et monasterium incinerari.” Saturday was St. Lawrence Day,

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the intention was not completed (case B), Ludolf could still justify it as God’s judgement. A third case (C) claims the Taborites defiled the king’s body with their clubs and spears while shouting insults and vilifying him.183 Abbot Ludolf in this case praised Jesus for everything he allowed to happen to the unfit king. The beginning of the 1420s saw the appearance of rumours about abuse of the king’s body. The Prague burgher who wrote the Latin treatise On the Benefits of War called the Taborites corpse defilers (vispiliones) sometime in the second half of the 1420s without actually explaining his reasoning.184 The tales of the terrifying destruction of the Zbraslav monastery grew outside the country in direct proportion to the distance from the site. There were rumours in Magdeburg that the Hussites burned all the monks they captured during the attack.185 Rhineland diplomat Eberhard Windecke, who was in the Czech lands in the services of Sigismund of Luxembourg in 1420 and who later collected information about Czech heretics, heard reports that the Hussites exhumed Wenceslas IV’s body from its grave during their attack and destroyed his head and chest (case D).186 That was how the Hussites repaid the protection he and his favourites had provided. Windecke remarked this was a case where the unfit king was enabled by his equally loathsome advisers and vice versa.187 The well-informed humanist Enea Silvio Piccolomini in his Latin History of Bohemia noted that the heretics in Zbraslav violated the royal tomb and scattered the bodies they found within. According to stories Eneáš had heard, a local fisherman named Muška secretly collected the remains of King Wenceslas, whom he had a fondness for, and hid them close to his home. Once the situation was calmer soon afterwards, Muška returned the king’s body and

183 184

185 186 187

August 10, 1420, so the episode is associated with the Taborite sacking of Zbraslav. That’s how this was understood by Franz Martin Pelzel, Lebensgeschichte des römischen und böhmischen Königs Wenceslaus, vol. 2 (Prague/Leipzig: Schönfeld-Meißner, 1790), p. 689. Loserth, “Beiträge III. Der Tractatus de longevo schismate,” p. 479: “fustibus et lanceis et modis diversis aliis transfodiendo et alias dehonorando viis exhonorasse variis et modo multiplici deturpasse.” “Tractatus de commoditate belli et alia plura” (Quando egresus) ed. Ferdinand Seibt, Hussitica. Zur Struktur einer Revolution (Cologne/Vienna: Böhlau, 1990), pp. 210–47, here at p. 229. After Seibt (p. 48), this reproach relating to the Zbraslav events was repeated by Machilek, Ludolph von Sagan, p. 158. Dating the treatise to May or June 1421 (Seibt, Hussitica, pp. 45–47) does not withstand scrutiny because its creation should be dated to the second half of the 20th century; see my review in ČČH 89 (1991), p. 270. Magdeburger Schöppenchronik, ed. Karl Hegel, (Die Chroniken der deutschen Städte VII. Die Chroniken der niedersächsischen Städte) (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1869), p. 354. Eberhart Windeckes Denkwürdigkeiten zur Geschichte des Zeitalters Kaiser Sigmunds, ed. Wilhelm Altmann (Berlin: Gaertners Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1893), p. 133. Windecke lists several advisers with names so garbled that they could not be identified, see Eberhart Windeckes Denkwürdigkeiten, p. 133.

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received 20 gold pieces as a reward.188 Silvio acquired these reports from various reliable sources. The question is whether he used the Old Czech Annals as a source as they include Muška’s story as well as details about the actions of the Taborites in the Zbraslav royal crypt. The oldest-known version of the Old Czech Annals (the so-called “R” manuscript, aka the Wrocław text) states: “King Wenceslas was again dug up by the Taborites and laid on the altar. They made him a crown of straw, forced beer into his throat and said ‘when you were alive, you liked to drink with us. Then they left and burned the monastery’” (case E).189 It appears this was a later addition when younger editors embellished simple records with colourful and fanciful episodes to attract the attention of readers and listeners.190 The spark of inspiration for these additions to Silvio’s chronicle may have come from the so-called A Very Fine Chronicle about John Žižka, which says his warriors “opened the grave, took out the body of King Wenceslas and sat it among themselves” (case F).191 However, the famous Taborite leader did not participate in the raid on the Zbraslav Monastery, which undercuts the reliability of this later testimony.192 The chief question remains who copied whom? The natural storyteller Enea Silvio, who finished his chronicle in the spring of 1458, would certainly not omit a story nearly identical to the ones that he himself concocted.193 This would suggest the bizarre legend about the Taborite drinking binge with poor King Wenceslas had to come from after 1458 regardless of the various dating of the two texts (“R” and “G”) of the Old Czech Chronicles and the Very Fine Chronicle.194 Of the six ways King Wenceslas IV’s body was defiled as recorded 188 Aenae Silvii Historia Bohemica, pp. 106–8. 189 Staré letopisy české z Vratislavského rukopisu p. 25. Cf. a younger, almost verbatum version of this report in manuscript G made accessible by František Šimek, Staré letopisy české z rukopisu Křižovnického (Prague: Odeon, 1959), p. 51. 190 The change in literary taste as the Middle Ages shifted into the Renaissance explains this morbid story, as in Petr Čornej, “Václav IV. v proměnách času (Příspěvek k české pověsti královské),” Česká literatura 33 (1985), p. 419, and again in more detail (but without citing sources) in his book Tajemství českých kronik (Prague: Vyšehrad, 1987), p. 101. 191 Kronika velmi pěkná o Janu Žižkovi, čeledínu krále Vácslava, ed. Jaroslav Šůla (Hradec Králové: Kruh, 1979), p. XVI. 192 Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, p. 20. 193 Compare with the fictional drum that used skin from Žižka’s dead body to induce the Germans to flee in Aenae Silvii Historia Bohemica, p. 138. 194 There is no reason to list all the suppositions that were made in association with the listed chronological texts. The final edit of the “R” text in the Wrocław manuscript, which dates to the first half of the 16th century, was created actually at the end of the 15th century (according to F.M. Bartoš in the Introduction of the edition on p. XV), so it has not been possible yet to differentiate the later additions from the 1520s to the chronological

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in the sources, two can be easily dispelled. As the remains of this sovereign have survived in the crypt of St. Vitus Cathedral in Prague, the burning of the body (case A) and the destruction of the bones to make them unrecognizable (case C) can be ruled out. The violent separation of the head from the body and its destruction (case D) can be indirectly ruled out by the final report from the last anthropological study of the remains.195 Even if we can rule out the burning and destruction of the buried king’s bones, the deeper connotations still need explanation. Abbot Ludolf offered a peak into the foggy range of late medieval sensibilities in a reference to the Old Testament book about the prophet Amos where Jehovah expresses the intent to send fire down upon the Moabites “because they burned the bones of the King of Edom to chalk” (Am 2,1–2).196 Four other Bible passages suggest the sources for the medieval imagination. The fate of the Judean king Jehoiakim was revealed by Jehovah with the words: “He will be buried like an ass, dug up and then tossed outside the gates of Jerusalem” (Jr 22,19). Even the New Testament’s Revelations mentions the bodies of two prophetic witnesses that remained unburied on the ground for the enjoyment of the people (Re 11,7–10). These are examples of bodies being left unburied, but the Bible also contains a number of cases where enemies were defiled as they lay in their graves. The bones of Judean nobles and priests were scattered from their graves and left in the sun “like manure on the surface of the Earth” (Jr 8,1). And according to Kings II 23–16, the Judean King Josiah had the bones of the seducers of the Israelites taken from their graves and burned on an altar. These and other biblical stories were in the minds of not only the learned opponents of Czech heretics, but also Hussite preachers. It was only a small step for the biblical story to become inspiration or used for revenge.197 It would record. The “G” version, which often matches the preceding texts, received a final edit in the 1520s (for more on dating and author attribution, see Šimek in the Preface of the edition, pp. 14–18). The dating of the Kronika velmi pěkná varies in a broad range from the mid-1430s until the beginning of the next century. 195 The coffins with the remains of Czech monarchs in the royal crypt were opened many times over the centuries, and not always with the appropriate piety and effort to keep the remains intact. See the critique by Frolík, “Insignes funèbres,” pp. 163–4. During the last opening of Wenceslas’s coffin on Feb. 21, 1983, only the skeletal remains were found, but no tracks of burning or violence were discovered. For more, see Vlček, Čeští králové I. Fyzické osobnosti českých panovníků II, pp. 248–53. 196 Loserth, “Beiträge III. Der Tractatus de longevo schismate,” p. 479. 197 Biblical and medieval documents sometimes overshadowed stories from newer periods or even contemporary history. Some of these are listed in my study “Blasfemie rituálu? Tři pohřby krále Václava IV.,” in František Šmahel, Mezi středověkem a renesancí (Prague: Argo, 2002), pp. 165–6. In this respect, I should mention the apt observation by Brückner,

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thus not be surprising if bizarre scenes actually took place in the Zbraslav monastery that were only recorded in the younger versions of the Old Czech Annals (case E). An analysis of the texts seems to show that the story of the defilement of the king’s body was created through a gradual embellishment of a fictitious but attractive episode surrounding an actual event, which was the Taborite destruction of Zbraslav. We know the drunken Taborite party with the body of Wenceslas IV (case E) and its possible inspiration in the form of the Taborites sitting and speaking to the dead king in the Very Fine Chronicle About John Žižka (case F) could hardly have been created before the final edit of Silvio’s Czech History. The dating of the latter is the turn of the 15th and 16th centuries198 while the surviving Old Czech Annals texts (“G” and “R”) can be dated to the first quarter of the 16th century. The later dating of both corresponds not only to a shift in literary preferences toward an engaging narrative as documented by Petr Čornej, but also an increase in the expression of macabre sensibilities in art and literature since the end of the 15th century.199 If we seek out literary works available to a reader proficient only in Czech, we find a wealth of morbid motifs that play with the idea of death. Valerius Maximus’s story of a man who toasts with his guest using cups made from the remains of his beloved wife attracted the attention of the author of the Old Czech composition “Tkadleček”.200 There was also the story of the real heir to the throne being discovered through an archery competition where the king’s son was the only competitor to refuse to strike the heart of the dead monarch.201 Finally, there was the story of the murdered wise man Alkibiad that came from John Guallensis’s Czech translation of On Four Cardinal Virtues. Despite the king’s order, Alkibiad’s adulterous wife decided to bury

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Bildnis und Brauch, p. 191: “The vituperation of the dead bodies of Czech kings and the destruction of their monuments is one of the spectacular succession acts (or more exactly rituals) of victorious enemies and bloody revolutions in every period of Western European history.” See Pekař, Žižka a jeho doba, vol. 2, pp. 155–6. Here, I mean the multiplying imagery of a personified Death, including decomposing corpses (so-called transi). I list a series of evidence in “Blasfemie rituálu,” pp. 167–9. Tkadleček. Hádka milence s Neštěstím, ed. František Šimek (Prague: Odeon, 1974), pp. 72–3. On the motif itself and is expansion, see Karel Dvořák, Soupis staročeských exempel (Prague: Univerzita Karlova, 1978), p. 123, no. 4057. Cf. the text published by Karel Dvořák, Nejstarší české pohádky (Prague: Odeon, 1976), pp. 183–4, no. 73. On the spread of the motif, see Dvořák, Soupis staročeských exempel, pp. 64–5, no. 1272.

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the body of her dead lover and to share with him the deathbed.202 And these are not all the stories involving dead bodies that we can encounter in the lay literature available to readers of Czech at the end of the 15th and the beginning of the 16th centuries.203 A reading of one of the texts with death as a theme, seeing one of the popular printed graphic images, or walking near sculptures of skeletons would be enough to inspire fantasies and jump-start the individual’s imagination. If skeletons can dance with the living, why not a piss-up with a dead king? Inspiration from the Dance with Death seemed to permeate into the Very Fine Chronicle, while the scene of a rousing party with the body of King Wenceslas in the additions to the Old Czech Annals incorporated various contemporary images into a blasphemous scene. The preceding embellishments thus only serve to underscore the tendency to denounce the Taborite iconoclasts using the contemporary imagination of the end of the 15th and beginning of the 16th centuries. The story of their drinking with the decomposing body of Wenceslas IV is not a product of the explosion of the Hussite revolution, but comes from an imagined history a century later. Wenceslas IV’s third and hopefully final funeral took place five years after his death during efforts to stabilise Prague by the conservative regime. The city fathers seemingly wanted to make up for lost time, so to speak. As soon as they learned the location of the bones, they ordered that they be transferred to Prague, piously placed into a dignified coffin, and to begin the funeral rites. The event attended by the guilds was one of the few formal gatherings held in Hussite Prague. The candle-lit procession embarked from Vyšehrad on July 25, 1424 and travelled through both of Prague’s towns to St. Vitus Cathedral where Wenceslas was buried alongside his father.204 As no royal insignia were found when his grave was opened in February 1983, there is good reason to believe they were simply not placed into the coffin in contrast to previous practices.205 The 202 O čtyřech stěžejných ctnostech, ed. František Šimek (Prague: Královská česká společnost nauk, 1951), p. 56. For the literary and folklore context, see Hana Šmahelová, “Smrt kmotřička a ošizená smrt,” Česká literatura 35 (1987), pp. 193–209. 203 Cf. the exemplum of the seventh master in the “Chronicle of the seven Sages,” which was printed around 1502 in Pilsen by Mikuláš Bakalář. An early modern Czech edition was issued by Jaroslav Kolár, Kronika sedmi mudrců (Prague: Odeon, 1985), here at pp. 101–6. 204 Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, p. 25; other partial testimonies are in Aenae Silvii Historia Bohemica, pp. 106–108. The date of the funeral was specified by František M. Bartoš, “Kolem Kroniky velmi pěkné o J. Žižkovi,” Jihočeský sborník historický 6, 1933, p. 128. 205 Frolík, “L’archeologie et la culture spirituelle,” pp. 162–3. For comparison with the fragments of textile that survived, see Bažantová, Pohřební roucha, pp. 18–21. On the newly restored royal dalmatic from the last grave of Wenceslas IV, see Mechthild Flury-Lemberg

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times also led to Wenceslas IV’s chosen resting place being passed over, but the rulers of Hussite Prague are in this case innocent: the Zbraslav headstone had been destroyed in the meantime. However, one honour was bestowed upon the dead king: the procession with his body was the last to travel the traditional funeral route of Czech kings from Vyšehrad to Prague Castle. 8

Pompa Funebris for Kings Ladislaus and George of Poděbrady

The Latin word exequiae referred to a range of ceremonial and liturgical acts associated with the funerals of nobles and non-noble individuals. We use it for stylistic reasons to limit the use of the word funeral and its derivatives. The broad definition makes the word exequiae an excellent choice to describe the last journey of Czech King Ladislaus Posthumous. Czech Catholics, the secondary Czech crown lands, the Roman Curia, and many political actors in the region viewed the ascension of Ladislaus to the throne with the hope that he will quickly complete the ongoing restoration and eradicate the remains of the Hussite heresy. The news of his death shortly before he was to take independently the reins of power must have been that much more of a shock. Some historians and court astrologers say this fulfilled the gloomy predictions made on the basis of the appearance of several comets in recent years.206 Ladislaus suddenly became ill during preparations for his wedding to the French Princess Magdalena. There were many foreigners already in Prague at the time, from Austrian court servants to magnates and diplomats who left reports about the swift illness that took the King’s life.207 Enea Silvio Piccolomini was not in Prague, but he did record Ladislaus’s final moments from second-hand accounts with the goal of showing how a sovereign should prepare to leave this world. and Karel Otavsky, “Das Grabgewand König Wenzels IV.,” Aachener Kunstblätter 60 (1994), pp. 293–304. See also Bravermanová and Lutovský, Hroby, hrobky a pohřebiště, pp. 216–8; Bravermanová, “Hroby králů,” pp. 76–82. 206 The reports in the sources about comets and other heavenly bodies were collected by Rudolf Urbánek, Konec Ladislava Pohrobka (Prague: Česká akademie věd a umění, 1924), pp. 159–160. It’s significant how much space was given to natural disasters and the alignment of planets in relation to the unexpected death of Ladislaus Posthumous by Viennese theologien and historian Thomas Ebendorfer, see Thomas Ebendorfer, Chronica Austriae, ed. Alphons Lhotsky, mgh SRG NS 13 (Munich: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1993), pp. 439–41. 207 All the important information about the causes and course of Ladislaus’s illness was critically sorted by Urbánek, Konec Ladislava Pohrobka, here esp. pp. 128–36.

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When physicians gave up hope that the King would recover, the governor of Bohemia, George of Poděbrady was brought to the silently suffering king. He tried to comfort the monarch, but Ladislaus had come to accept God’s will and he handed over the kingdom to George. He then made two requests that were in the interest of the “common good” as was said at the time. He first tasked George with ruling fairly and giving justice to widows, orphans, and the weak. Secondly, George was to assure the safe return to all those that had accompanied the King to Prague from Austria and other lands. When a moved George gave him his word, Ladislaus called his priests “who took care for the salvation of his soul and gave him the sacraments according to Christian tradition. The King bequeathed his jewels to the Prague church and ordered his hair, shining like gold, to be cut, so no vanity would remain on his person. The servants then invented various delays. When the tortured soul could no longer remain, the King requested a blessed candle, grasped it in his hand, and he began to recite the Lord’s Prayer as he gazed at an image of the crucified saviour. When he reached the end and said ‘and deliver us from evil,’ he spoke no more and appeared to be falling asleep, and not to be dying. And thus, he left the living world.” For who is allowed to enjoy rank, property, and power forever? That question is how Eneáš Silvio concludes his obituary for the deceased 18-year-old king.208 Enea Silvio, the next pope Pius II, who truly had no love for the Hussite Czechs nor their representatives, would hardly recognize the sorrow over the death of Ladislaus Posthumous expressed by George and other lords as heartfelt if he was not convinced of its sincerity. Despite the various rumours and calumny about the alleged murder of the king that began to spread in foreign countries, Utraquist Prague attempted to prepare a truly regal funeral to honour the king, considering the circumstances. There were extensive changes to the locations when compared to Charles’s funeral. Vyšehrad castle was still in ruins and the sovereign’s seat had been moved during the reign of Wenceslas IV to King’s Court close to the Powder Tower in Prague’s Old Town, which diminished the role of Prague Castle in the funeral. There were also changes to the schedule. The King’s body was put on display in the large hall of King’s Court on November 24. It was not washed or embalmed for fear of infection and a purple and gold brocade cloth covered it to the breast to mask the inflated abdomen. The Psalter was read constantly next to the catafalque while groups of people filed past, with the reading covering the noise of sobs, the chief background noise at medieval funerals, accompanied by gestures of lamentation. The funeral took place under strict security measures on November 25. The governor, George of Poděbrady, immediately took action. He called all the 208 Aenae Silvii Historia Bohemica, pp. 248–51.

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nobles and representatives of towns that happened to be in Prague to assemble and requested they help him keep peace and order in the Czech lands and abroad. He also announced that he would keep the office of governor until the next diet. The mayors of Prague were also to remain in place until the next king took the throne, which was doubtlessly true of other royal cities as well. George also posted guards at all the gates so no one left the city until after the funeral was over.209 He quickly began preparations for the funeral and procession. As no one living could recall the funeral of Charles IV, and as the memory of Wenceslas IV’s temporary funerals had also faded, a new agenda needed to be created, the existence of which can be evidenced from the chapter in the manuscript “R” of Old Czech Chronicles titled: “The Burial Rites of King Ladislaus.” The chronicler must have had access to the document, as he paraphrased it and added certain observations he had acquired.210 We will do the same while also deferring to the commented paraphrasing. The chronicler opens his record concisely: “On Friday, the day of the Virgin St. Catharine [November 25, 1457], the procession embarked after the sermon.” What does that mean? The sermon certainly took place in the Church of Our Lady Before Tyne and the only possible leader would be the elected Utraquist Archbishop John Rokycana, who took part in the procession and other ceremonies in a “black chasuble.” Did this take place without the king’s body, which was still resting on the bier at King’s Court? If so, then Rokycana and other Utraquists went from the church to the court where they joined the other participants in the funeral. After blessings with holy water, the procession with the king’s body set out for the Cathedral.211 The other option is that Rokycana gave the sermon while standing over the dead king’s body, which was carried to the church from King’s Court on its bier. This is less likely, however, because of the resistance among Austrian and domestic Catholic magnates. It is noteworthy that the Catholics were annoyed at Rokycana for the simple spraying of holy water.212 Rokycana and his Utraquists thus probably had to satisfy themselves with a funeral sermon without King’s body (sine corpore) and to demand another sermon in the cathedral. The tradition of carrying the dead king’s body through the city was not completely removed, but the New Town was omitted from the procession for time reasons.213 We can now look at the old chronicler’s procession order: 209 See Urbánek, Konec Ladislava Pohrobka, pp. 137–44. 210 Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, pp. 121–2. It is also possible that the record was created right after Ladislaus’s funeral, an idea enforced by the lively description of some of the episodes in the cathedral. 211 According to Urbánek, Konec Ladislava Pohrobka, p. 139. 212 See Urbánek, Konec Ladislava Pohrobka, p. 139, n. 2. 213 That was probably the thinking of Enea Silvio cf. Aenae Silvii Historia Bohemica, pp. 252–3.

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the vanguard was made up of tradesmen carrying burning candles, probably with each guild separated under its own banner. Dark clothing was the norm in the procession, but a uniform black could not be procured in such a short timeframe. The next group were pupils of parish schools and monks. The rectors, masters, bachelors, and students of the Prague university came next in the hierarchic procession, followed by servants leading 10 horses covered in black cloth and meant for the offertory.214 The next group following the altar sacraments were Utraquist clerics carrying burning candles,215 followed by Archbishop John Rokycana in a black chasuble. The Utraquist chronicler does not mention any Catholic priests or prelates, but they need to be accounted for as well despite Wrocław chronicler Eschenloer claiming there were not many of them.216 Rokycana was followed by knights (probably in royal service at court) in monk-like black robes and with a black candle in their hands. Here we have to supplement the chronicler using the concluding portion of his testimony where he mentions an unsheathed sword, the orb, sceptre, and flags and banners. The royal insignia including the downward-pointing sword were carried by specially chosen nobles. Here is a point we would like to know more about, because the analogy with other funerals would suggest the handling of the insignia was an honour reserved for the highest land, court, and town officials. We also have to accept the possibility that only the sword was carried before the king, while the crown jewels were carried on the bier as in the German “folk” song about King Ladislaus’s death which said the king had a golden crown on his head.217 We now come to the central part of the procession. Prague’s councilmen followed the sword, carrying or accompanying the bier upon which the king’s body was covered up to his breast by a gold brocade cloth. Ladislaus’s head was uncovered, displaying his golden hair for all to see one last time. The Old Town Councilmen and elders accompanied or carried the dead king over the river to 214 Urbánek, Konec Ladislava Pohrobka, p. 139, shows that black-clad young men sat atop the horses. I never found this mentioned anywhere, but it could be an analogy coming from the Hungarian or Polish environment. Twelve knights in armour riding black-clad horses accompanied the dead body of Robert of Anjou in 1342. However, they carried the banners of 12 territories – see also Áron Petneki, “Exequiae regis. Die Begräbniszeremonie des Königs Matthias Corvinus vor ihrem ungarischen Hintergrund,” in Der Tod des Mächtigen, pp. 118–9. 215 That is how I understand the report from Wrocław chronicler Petr Eschenloer where the priests carried burning candles and “sacra”, see Historia Wratislaviensis, srs VII, ed. Hermann Markgraf (Wrocław: Josef Max & Komp., 1872), p. 15. 216 Historia Wratislaviensis, p. 15: “postea clerus probus paucus.” 217 Rochus von Liliencron, Die historischen Volkslieder der Deutschen vom 13. bis 16. Jahrhundert, vol. 1 (Leipzig: Vogel, 1865), p. 494, no.106a, verse 12: “ein chron von gold ward im perait, / die setzt man auf sein hare.”

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the Lesser Town (Malá Strana), where they were replaced by the town’s councilmen who accompanied the body to Prague Castle. They were then replaced by the canons and their students who carried the king into the choir of the Cathedral.218 The chronicler did not omit the sobbing simple folk at the end of the procession, but he did forget to mention the crown land administrator George of Poděbrady and other high-ranking magnates close to the bier and guarding the king and the symbols of his lands.219 The canons ordered the horses taken into the church before entering the Cathedral.220 Utraquist representatives protested because they believed it to be desecration of the sacraments of Corpus Christi and claimed “that type of thing is unheard of.” They were wrong about that, however, as we saw in the funeral of Charles IV. The old chronicler also noticed or was informed that foreigners gave money to anyone who wanted to attend the offertory. The poor people, he complained, “took the money from the Germans and many kept (it) for themselves.” There were even more mutual misunderstandings between foreigners and the local population and between Utraquists and Catholics. Rokycana took the opportunity, which he understood as his obligation, to give a sermon that used verses from a poem by Nikolaus of Bibra: “The death is coming regardless of your rights” (Mors est ventura, que non curat tua iura). The inspiration for this could have been Hus’s sermon in memory of emperor Charles from November 29, 1409. Our chronicler seems to have misunderstood the verses and, in the belief he heard the name of a famous saint, attributed the statement to St. Bonaventura.221 The anger among the canons over Rokycana’s sermon in their church was expressed by Václav of Krumlov who said: “Master, cease, that is enough of the sermon.”222 Ladislaus’s seal was broken at the end of a short ceremony on the order of the governor as a symbolic end to his reign. The insignia and sword, which the 218 As in the funeral of Charles IV, we must account for bearers under the bier that might not be visible. 219 The participation of George of Poděbrady is mentioned in a younger version of the Old Czech Annals (MS “H”) and other sources listed by Urbánek, Konec Ladislava Pohrobka, p. 139, n. 8. 220 This is confirmed by a folk song: “Man opfert im zechen gedakte pferd / und auch darzu ain guldeins swert.” See Liliencron, Die historischen Volkslieder, vol.1, p. 494, num. 106b, verse 15. 221 The listening error was explained by Šimek, Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, p. 122, n. 4. See also the passage in Hus’s sermon “Confirmate corda vestra”, ed. Anežka Schmidtová, Iohannes Hus, Magister Universitatis Carolinae Positiones, Recommendationes, Sermones (Prague: Státni pedagogické nakladatelství, 1958), p. 122. 222 Peter Eschenloer. Geschichte der Stadt Breslau, ed. Gunhild Roth (Münster: Waxmann, 2003), p. 199, said Rokycana was forcefully removed from the cathedral. Urbánek, Konec Ladislava Pohrobka, p. 140, n. 4, ruled out this version of events.

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knights had trouble with, met the same fate. In the end, George of Poděbrady circled the catafalque with Ladislaus’s banner three times. He then tore the banner to shreds, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it. The same was done with the banners of other lands and “the Germans, seeing and regretting what happened to their royal banners, began to weep profusely.” The tattered banners then hung over his grave for a long time afterwards. After the funeral at around two o’clock in the afternoon, the Czech lords mounted their horses and rode to their pubs for lunch.223 We can add that the city folk did the same after coming to the Castle on foot. It is sad that we know so little about the funeral of the last native Czech king as the Utraquist chroniclers used few words to note the death and funeral of George of Poděbrady. The same chronicler who recorded the funeral of Ladislaus Posthumous so colourfully only recorded the date of George of Poděbrady’s death (during the night of Saturday, March 23) and his funeral (on Monday, March 25).224 He added a note about the cask with his entrails buried in Our Lady Before Tyne next to the grave of John Rokycana and several introspective words about his adherence to Christ’s truths.225 The author of the younger record in the manuscript “G” of the Old Czech Chronicles removed the note about the cask, but added the criticism that George rejected “the sound advice of the good and saintly priest Martin Lupáč,” who he did not wish to speak to in Kutná Hora despite Lupáč aiding in his election. The conclusion that follows is truly shocking. Lupáč allegedly begged God: “Dear God, destroy the King George and his family.” And our chronicler claims that is what happened because none of his sons were still alive at the time, with the exception of Prince Viktorin who died on August 30, 1500 in Těšín.226 223 This last act was recorded by Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, p. 122. 224 The time of death is also recorded in other texts in the Old Czech Annals. Georg Heimburg, whose testimony will be discussed, listed Friday (March 22), as did Budějovice Landeshauptman Markvart of Rakovice in a letter to John Tluksa of Vrábí. He learned “that heretical king” died while seated on the commode at hour 16 on April 2 or April 3 in Soběslav. That would correspond to our 9 pm, which in March would be considered night. The letter is published in Archiv český V, ed. František Palacký (Prague: Domestikální fond království Českého, 1862), p. 314, no. 5. 225 Archiv český V, p. 147. Franz Palacky, Geschichte von Böhmen, vol. IV/2 (Prague: F. Tempský, 1860), p. 664, also states that George had a partially deteriorated liver, a gall stone the size of a pidgeon’s egg, and “an inch” thick layer of fat on his stomach. The same information without sources is listed in Václav Vladivoj Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 7 (Prague: František Řiwnáč, 1906), p. 295. 226 Staré letopisy české z rukopisu Křižovnického, p. 281. As Martin Lupáč died in April 1468, this must have been an older matter, probably from Lupáč’s treatises defending the voided Compactata from 1462, whose open call against Catholics did not agree with Rokycana nor King George. More details available in Rudolf Urbánek, Věk poděbradský, vol. 4 (České dějiny III/4) (Prague: Nakladatelství Československé akademie věd, 1962), pp. 556–60.

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Everything we know about King George’s funeral comes from the document Gregor Heimburg sent to the Saxon princes on March 27.227 This German jurist who steadfastly stood by George’s side in foreign policy matters told the dukes that over two days (Saturday and Sunday), King George’s body was displayed with the proper majesty at his seat. On Monday, the king’s remains were carried with the same dignity and majesty through the streets of Prague to St. Wenceslas Cathedral where it was buried.228 The funeral mass was celebrated by clerics and monks from both faiths, expressing their respect for the protection he provided. It would not be far from the truth to believe that the funeral of George of Poděbrady had the same order and agenda as the funeral of Ladislaus Posthumous 13 years earlier. It was not so long ago that the event was forgotten by contemporaries. On top of that, the hasty circumstances of the funeral were also similar and thus the procession also probably avoided the New Town as immediate needs were more important than tradition in the case of royal funerals. 9

Funerals of the Czech Kings Outside Bohemia

All four Czech monarchs to be discussed here were also kings of other lands. They could only be buried in one of their kingdoms, and whether it was their decision or not, they were interred in the traditional burial cities of Hungarian kings: Oradea and Székesfehérvár. They would have found more peace in Prague, though not without the occasional disturbance of their remains. The Turkish expansion, however, left both Hungarian cities destroyed, leaving architects and anthropologists uncertain when identifying their corporal and other remains.229 227 Karl Adolf Constantin Höfler, “Böhmische Studien,” Archiv für österreichische Geschichte 12 (1854), pp. 307–406, quote on p. 347: “Gnedigen herrn als vnser her der Kunigk am ffritage nehist vorgangen vorscheyden vnd dornach samstag vnnd Sonntag noch gewonheit der fordern Kunige in Kuniglicher Zirde in dem kuniglichen hoffe offenbarlich allermeniglich geczeiget vnd am montage darnoch mit demselben gezirde durch die stat Prage in sent Wenzels Kirchen bie die andern Konigenn zitlich begrabenn und mit selampten alter priestern und monche beyder wesenns loblich begangen worden, ist mit grosser elage geistlich und wertlichs stands beyder wessens als er die ouch glich gnediglich biss in seyn todt geschutzt und geschirrmet hat.” 228 This shortened dedication of the Prague cathedral was regularly used in the second half of the 15th century. 229 On the archeological and anthropological research in Oradea and Székesfehérvár, see the most recent work by Kerny, “Begräbnis und Begräbnisstätte,” pp. 475–9, with further literature and floor plans.

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Emperors and kings do not die alone, something Roman Emperor and Hungarian and Czech King Sigismund Luxembourg knew very well.230 Upon his departure from Prague on November 11, 1437,231 he was provocatively adorned with a golden wreath as a mark of his triumph. He was carried in a litter dressed in a majestic robe, which, according to many reports, he also used in all his remaining public acts in Znojmo. We already know Sigismund generously supported the church in Oradea where he wanted to be buried at the feet of his favourite saint, King Ladislaus I of Hungary.232 Sensing his approaching death, Sigismund gave orders of a ceremonial nature along with those associated with the ascension of his son-in-law Albert.233 Everything suggests a prepared scenario for which we have a report from Sigismund’s diplomat and biographer Eberhart Windecke.234 On Monday, December 9, when the doctors gave up all hope of recovery, Sigismund ordered he be dressed in an ornate chasuble he wore when reading from the gospels during the Christmas mass and be sat upon the throne with the imperial crown on his head. He then heard his last mass surrounded by his closest relatives, his daughter Elisabeth of Luxembourg, her children, son-in-law Albert, Hungarian nobles, and other lords who were among his most loyal associates. His wife Barbara of Cejle was absent, however, after she was imprisoned in Bratislava by Sigismund for her plots. A contemporary illustration of Windecke’s Memories gives us a visual idea of this scene.235 (figure 3.3)

230 Cf. Hans Martin Schaller, “Der Kaiser stirbt,” in Tod im Mittelalter, ed. Arno Borst (Constance: Universitätsverlag Konstanz, 1993), pp. 59–75, here especially p. 65: “Daß ein Kaiser oder König nicht einsam stirbt, versteht sich für alle Chronisten von selbst, zählen sie alle hochrangigen Personen auf, die beim Tode des Herrschers anwesend waren.” 231 Jörg K. Hoensch, Kaiser Sigismund. Herrscher an der Schwelle zur Neuzeit (1368–1437) (München: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1996), p. 460, preferred November 10. See also pp. 461–2 on the king’s funeral. Briefly also Wilhelm Baum, Kaiser Sigismund. Konstanz. Hus und Türkenkriege (Graz/Vienna/Cologne: Böhlau, 1992), pp. 292–3; František Kavka, Poslední Lucemburk na českém trůně (Prague: Mladá fronta, 1998), pp. 253–6. All the important information was summarised and expanded upon by Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 146–58. 232 On Sigismund’s interest in the Oradea cathedral, see Ernö Marosi, “Gotische Skulptur in Grosswardein. Zur Frage des Höfischen um 1400,” in Künstlerische Wechselwirkungen in Mitteleuropa, pp. 91–102. 233 For more, see Aenae Silvii Historia Bohemica, pp. 174–5, which in places fabulates what the author could not have known. According to him, the Emperor called into his bedchamber the Hungarian and Czech lords to discuss the future of his kingdom and recommended Austrian Duke Albert as his successor. 234 Eberhart Windeckes Denkwürdigkeiten, pp. 447, 450. 235 This is visualised in a richly illustrated manuscript ms Vienna, Österreichische National­ bibliothek, Cod. 13975, cap. CCCLX, fol. 439r.

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Figure 3.3 Sigismund of Luxemburg, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Bohemia and Hungary from Eberhard’s Windecke Denkwürdigkeiten Kaiser Sigismunds

Emperor Sigismund, aged nearly 70 years, died that evening, December 9, still sitting on the throne. In accordance with his wishes, he was adorned in clothes made of grey cloth as a symbol of his humility and put on display for three days before being buried. The winter weather meant embalming could be postponed, thus fulfilling the Emperor’s wishes in this respect as well. His father had also wanted to be buried in a plain grey shroud, but the seated

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farewell seems to be a new element corresponding to the changing attitudes towards a person’s final moments and exemplary behaviour by a sovereign.236 After about a two-week trip through Bratislava, Komárno, Esztergom, and Buda, Sigismund’s remains arrived at the church in Oradea where they were entombed near the grave of St. Ladislaus of Hungary and his first wife Mary of Hungary during the last week of 1437 with all the rites befitting an Emperor. We assume only through analogies of funerals for other kings that Sigismund’s body rested on a catafalque and was placed into the coffin with the funeral insignia dressed in an opulent shroud. It’s not known if there was a procession, who gave the funeral speech, nor who celebrated the funeral mass. We do know that all seals were destroyed at the end of the funeral if not before, and other symbols of the Emperor’s majesty were probably smashed as well.237 The text on the headstone, allegedly directly from Sigismund himself, was recorded by a chronicler from the city Klingenberg.238 There is also a unique obituary for the sovereign in the manuscript “G” of the Old Czech Chronicles. After mentioning that Duke Albert and other nobles brought Sigismund’s body to Oradea where they buried him, the following is written: “Versus: Sceptra Sigismundi vindex Concepcio stringit,” which means “The rule of Sigismund was destroyed by the vindictive Conception.” This is a reference to Sigismund’s death on the day after the Feast of the Conception.239 We already know that the wishes and orders or Roman kings were not a sacrosanct obligation for those they left behind. Vienna in mourning waited in vain for its Duke and Roman, Hungarian, and Czech King Albert II of Germany on October 28, 1439.240 The remains were transported that day to near-by Raab, where the king’s widow Elisabeth of Luxembourg ordered the body be taken south to Székesfehérvár for political reasons. There Albert was rather hastily buried in the cathedral on October 30 or 31, 1439. As nobles from far-flung lands could not attend on such short notice, magnates from Austria and Styria took up protocol obligations alongside their Hungarian counterparts. In the grand procession, individual Austrian and other lands (represented by a quartet 236 According to Eberhart Windeckes Denkwürdigkeiten, p. 447, Sigismund thought: “daz alle menglichen sehen solten, das aller dere welt herre dot und gestorben were.” Furthermore, see the interpretation by Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 147–148. 237 Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, p. 461, says without citing sources that the seals were destroyed with the participation of witnesses a day after Sigismund’s death in Znojmo. 238 Reprinted by Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, p. 599, n. 52. 239 Staré letopisy české z rukopisu Křižovnického, p. 144. 240 For details about the funeral of Albert II, see Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 159–74.

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of nobles with banners, helmets, shields, and swords) were followed by four knights representing all three of Albert’s kingdoms in their usual order. Each of the three kingdoms were represented by three other nobles carrying facsimiles of the insignia. At the head of the group was a knight leading a horse with a black blanket and the symbol of the respective land or kingdom. All these horses were part of the offertory at the end of the ceremony. Thanks to a contemporary reporter, we know the names of the knights and nobles that represented the Czech kingdom.241 It can be assumed that Albert rested on the catafalque adorned in splendour with the insignia of his majesty during the entire procession and ceremony in the cathedral.242 It was a truly unique pompa funebris that required enormous effort and expenditure because of the short time for preparations.243 The knowledge we lack about royal funerals can be acquired in other ways in extraordinary cases. The reports about the funeral of Queen Barbara’s nephew, Ulrich II of Cilli, who was murdered in Belgrade on November 9, 1456, are an exceptionally valuable testimony. Although he was not a king, his funeral in Cejle, Slovenia, was worthy of royalty. Ceremonies for the final scion of this great house lasted a month. On the last day, five banners were sacrificed near his black-adorned grave in the light of many candles. Four of the banners represented the counties Ulrich controlled and a fifth represented sorrow, each with shield and a golden helmet. Twelve black-covered horses were also sacrificed. When the armed knight kneeled, the herald tore the banner of Celje and called in loud voice: “Today you are still the Count of Celje, but nevermore.” With that, those present began to sob and weep mournfully.244

241 Cf. “Ausschreiben der ordnung des begeens weillende de (…) herrn Albrechten Römischen, zu Hungern, zu Behaimb, Dalmatien, Croatien atc. Khunigs”, ed. Wilhelm Hauser, “Der Trauerzug beim Begräbnis des deutschen Königs Albrecht II (†1439),” Adler. Zeitschrift für Genealogie und Heraldik 7 (1967), pp. 191–5, here p. 195: “Behaym herr Hanns von Öberstorf das panier, Hanns der Swein den helm, der von Petau den schilt. die kron graf Vlrich von Schawnburg, herr Sigmund Erbestorffer den Apfl, herr Rüdiger von Stahrnberg daß zeptor, herr Nesker das Schwert.” 242 During the initial transfer of the deceased body of Albert to Vienna his “corpus exanime regio cultu ornatum” as stated by Thomas Ebendorfer Chronica regum Romanorum I, ed. Zimmermann, p. 595. Ebendorfer was thus the author of a versed lamentation of the death of Albert II that he included in his Austrian chronicle  – cf. Thomas Ebendorfer, Chronica Austriae, p. 380. 243 Even years later this procession was for the chronicler Bonfini “singularis pompa funebris”  – see Antonius de Bonfinis, Rerum Hungaricarum Decades I–IV, eds. I. Fógel, B. Iványi and L. Juhász (Leipzig/Budapest: Teubner, 1936–1941) here vol. III, p. 84. 244 All according to Urbánek, Konec Ladislava Pohrobka, p. 72.

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King Albert II only visited the St. Mary’s Cathedral in Székesfehérvár during his coronation. If it was his widow who decided to bury him there, then it speaks to the importance the cathedral had for Hungarian political and historical thinking.245 When Albert II’s successor to the Hungarian throne Matthias Corvinus died unexpectedly in Vienna on April 6, 1490, it was understood that he would be buried in Székesfehérvár. The seals of the of the dead king were destroyed during the first meeting of the royal council, which suggests that this supremely political act was associated with the king’s death more than with his funeral. The dead conqueror’s body was displayed in state in St. Stephen’s Cathedral despite the low expectations for grief among the Viennese.246 In this case, Matthias’s official biographer Antonio Bonfini effectively captured the difference between symbolic and actual funeral services. In the first case, the deceased was represented by a cenotaph, while a stone tomb with the coffin or a sarcophagus was used in the latter case.247 Bonfini is also the author of the only description of Matthias’s funeral, which took place in Székesfehérvár on April 24, 1490. Even though he did not participate himself, he had reliable reports, which is why his account is believable. The simple transfer of Matthias’s body was engrained in the memory of observers and participants as the ship that carried the dead monarch down the Danube was accompanied by 50 other crafts. The stop in Bratislava was especially moving, as the locals came out to express their grief to the Queen widow. She travelled on to Buda and was present for the presentation of the castle and the royal treasure, but she did not continue to Székesfehérvár. Matthias’s body laid in state in the middle of St. Mary’s Cathedral with his face covered, dressed in a majestic cloak atop a raised catafalque covered with a purple cloth. The funeral insignia were laid beside the body as was the case in the funerals we have encountered thus far. The catafalque was lined by prelates on one side and by Hungarian magnates on the other. The funeral itself was preceded by a procession that probably had a traditional feel, including the horses with black covers and symbolic shields carried

245 More in Petneki, “Exequiae regis,” pp. 120–2. 246 Of the statutes available due to language, see for comparison Petneki, “Exequiae regis,” pp. 113–23. On the symptoms of the sudden illness, see Leslie S. Domonkos, “The Medical History of a Medieval Hungarian King: Matthias Corvinus (1458–1490),” in R. Várkonyi Ágnes Emlékkönyv, ed. Péter Tusor, (Budapest: ELTE, 1998), pp. 122–47. Briefly on the topic and the political effects of Matthias’s death, see Antonín Kalous, Matyáš Korvín (1443–1490). Uherský a český král (České Budějovice: Veduta, 2009), pp. 331–3. 247 Antonius de Bonfinis, Rerum Hungaricarum Decades IV, p. 161: “ut hic cenotaphium, sarcophagum illic pro dignitate principis jure facerent.”

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by knights in full armour.248 It appears that one of them carried an exquisite funereal shield commissioned by chapter provost Dominik Kálmáncsehi that has survived to the present day. Matthias’s symbol surrounded by a wreath of sunlight was placed in the middle of the leather-covered wooden shield. One of the four relief symbols on the edges of the shield probably corresponds to Moravia. The Latin text on the outside the shield reads: “St. Mary, mother of God, pray for the King Matthias.”249 It seems it was the provost that ensured the shield was not damaged during the destruction of the sovereign’s banners, shields, and other symbols at the end of the funeral. Other valuables needed oversight, including a large gold cross allegedly worth 45,000 gold pieces that was displayed next to the catafalque. The historian Bonfini reported that all in attendance loudly wept and sobbed during the ceremony. And if it was true that twelve knights, either on horseback or not, tossed the banners and symbols including conquered spoils around the catafalque, then the funeral must have been quite a spectacle.250 Holy Roman Emperor Frederick III, who died three years earlier received a monumental headstone that is awe-inspiring even today. Thanks to his military record King Matthias at times eclipsed even Frederick. That gives us at least an idea of what the sarcophagi of Sigismund of Luxembourg and Matthias Corvinus may have looked like.251 A series of condolences could be listed, but a quote from the sympathy note sent by the Florentine Republic to Queen Beatrice about a month after Matthias’s funeral bears repeating: “We lost a friend, a patron, a defender of our dignity, and an excellent supporter of our community.”252 It is also worthy to note how the death of the sovereign was announced abroad. In a note to the Polish king Sigismund, the office of Louis II of Hungary described the death of 248 Kalous, Matyáš Korvín, p. 333, mentions 12 riders dressed in purple that carried the symbols of royal power and an unsheathed sword. 249 A golden funeral shield 61cm × 44.5cm is stored in the Paris Musée de l’Armée, inventory num. J 7. A description and literature cited is listed in Jolán Balogh, “Totenschild des Königs Matthias,” in Corvinus und die Renaissance in Ungarn 1458–1541 (Vienna: Amt der Niederösterreichischen Landesregierung, 1982), p. 235, no. 128. 250 Antonius de Bonfinis, Rerum Hungaricarum Decades IV, p. 165, only says: “Cum in basilicam dive Virginis perventum esset corpusque in medio constituissent, equites gemebundi, qui universa cum ense signa pretulerant, insignia cuncta pro are magna humi deiectarunt, veluti regis casu omnia sua trophea, signa partaque regna una corruerent. Ad quod spectaculum omnes collacrimarunt.” 251 For comparison, see Edgar Hertlein, “Das Grabmal Kaiser Friedrichs III. im Lichte der Tradition,” in Der Tod des Mächtigen, pp. 137–64. 252 A paraphrasing of the quote was taken from the catalogue Corvinus und die Renaissance in Ungarn, p. 237, no. 129c.

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his father, Vladislaus II of Hungary, as “a shining example of how to die well for both princes and subjects.”253 We now arrive at the fourth Czech king buried outside the crown lands. According to the Venetian traveller and historian Marina Sanuto, Vladislaus II died surrounded by prelates. Before he took his last breath on March 13, 1516, he instructed his son Louis to be loyal always to the pope. He then gave the legate his and his wife Anne’s valuables. He also allegedly cancelled all decisions targeting the Roman Church in the Czech lands and called on his son and his guardians to expel all heretics from the country, especially the so-called Czech Brothers. These articles of Vladislaus’s will were officially taken down, but witnesses of this last act doubted its feasibility.254 We would like to know more about Vladislaus’s funeral in Székesfehérvár, but we can only assume that the traditional rites of the Hungarian kings were observed. We can say much less about the funeral of the last Czech king in our survey, Louis II of Hungary, other than to describe the symbolic acts that took place in Prague. Louis II’s death in itself was unique as he was left lying robbed, naked, unrecognized, and dead on the battlefield. There was a long-held belief that he survived the Battle of Mohács on August 29, 1526. Queen Mary had taken refuge in Bratislava and sent her chamberlain, who found Louis’s naked body in the swamps. He brought the Queen a ring she gave her husband and some of his beard in a kerchief. Royal servants placed Louis’s body into a coffin and sent it off to Székesfehérvár where Louis was laid to rest alongside his parents and other Hungarian kings.255 10

Funeral Ceremonies without the King’s Body

There are no records of funeral services for absent sovereigns (absente corpore) in older times, which is surprising for an Emperor as significant as Charles IV, especially since we know of symbolic funerals in Nurnberg, Nördlingen, and Frankfurt for Rupert, King of Germany.256 The silence of the sources could 253 Cf. Acta Tomiciana. Tomus Quartus Epistolarum. Legationum. Responsorum. Actionum et Rerum Gestarum; Serenissimi Principis Sigismundi Primi, Regis Polonie et Magni Ducis Lithuanie (Poznań: A. Popliński, 1855), p. 18. 254 On the death of Vladislaus II, see Macek, Jagellonský věk, vol. 1, (Prague: Academia, 1992), p. 220, according to I diarii di Marino Sanuto (1496–1533), ed. Giovanni Monticolo (Città del Castello: Lapi, 1900), XXII pp. 130–2. 255 According to Macek, Jagellonský věk, vol. 1, p. 318. 256 Cf. Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 242–6, here especially the overview on p. 243.

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be attributed to testimonies lost to time or a lack of research into the proper sources. More or less by chance, we learn that a funeral mass in absentia regis was served for Emperor Charles IV at least in the Litomyšl bishopric. If it took place there, they could have taken place elsewhere as well. In reality, records of the oldest council accounts show symbolic ceremonies (obsequia) for Charles IV in Görlitz. An entry dated December 21, 1378 says the city spent 1 gold piece and 11 shillings for cloth and 378 groschen for wax. Grooms and others who carried candles were paid 27 groschen, while reading the Psalter was rewarded with a half grzywna, and priests and monks received 6 shillings and 5 groschen for funereal speeches. This information allows us to surmise that a candlelight procession was organized along with a funeral mass.257 For now, let us return to the sermon delivered by the above-mentioned Minorite Henry of Vildštejn in Litomyšl on December 30, 1378, which he opened with a discussion of the last words in the book of Job 42, 17: “He died like an old man sated with days.” Biblical quotes again mix with Henry’s verses. However, contrary to his sermon at the Knights of Malta church, he evoked the dead Emperor more often, possibly because the method of address suggests he was speaking to lay lords and not just clerics. Alluding to Revelations 22, 16: “I am a root and the offspring of David,” and the preacher allows Charles himself to speak: “I am Charles, son of the exalted king John, and grandson of the Emperors Henry and Charlemagne.”258 Here, Henry displayed his knowledge of the Emperor’s self-presentation of his imaginary ancestry and he would also make use of his knowledge of Charles’s trips to the Roman Curia and to France in another part of the sermon. Charles, in his humility, not only removed his biretta, hat, or hood before the pope and the French king, but he also led their horses. That would have been impossible in the case of French King Charles V as Emperor Charles had great difficulty walking towards the end of his life. However, Henry could be recalling the recent meeting of the two in Paris on the field in front of the Saint-Denis chapel on January 4, 1378. Both first bowed, then embraced and took each other by the hand. The French king then moved to keep the Emperor on his right.259 And that is the extent of recollections about the Emperor that Henry of Vildštejn included in his Litomyšl speech. 257 Die ältesten Görlitzer Ratsrechnungen bis 1419, CDLS III, ed. Richard Jecht (Görlitz: Selbstverlag der Oberlausitzischen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften, 1905–1910), p. 44. The note “pro collaciam” could also mean refreshments. In this context, however, it probably means sermon speeches. 258 The Litomyšl sermon was published by Bansa, “Heinrich von Wildenstein,” pp. 214–223, the citation in the text is more related to pp. 214, 217, 220. 259 On the facts of the event, see Grandes Chroniques de France in Šmahel, The Parisian Summit, 1377–78, pp. 200–1.

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The idea that important imperial cities honoured dead emperors and kings is strengthened by evidence of symbolic funerals that had a set program. The ceremony for the deceased Emperor Sigismund took place in this important imperial city on January 6–7, 1438. A wooden stool was built in front of the Frauenkirche altar and covered in black cloth. Copies of imperial jewels, which the city council had created for the occasion at great expense, rested on top. 400 candles allegedly burned around the bodiless catafalque, creating a chapelle ardente as these candle-lit funereal compositions came to be known.260 According to local tradition,261 vigils took place on the first day. The abbot of Heilbronn celebrated a mass with other abbots and many clerics in attendance The Frankfurt city council organized a large procession to the church of St. Bartholomew (today’s cathedral) and ordered three portraits of Sigismund, with one of them said to be a majestic work.262 It also must be noted that Pope Eugene IV himself served a funeral mass for Sigismund in Bologna on January 8, 1438.263 Much of the evidence suggests that funeral rites for Sigismund in Prague were observed in the cathedral where the vigils were held and a mass was celebrated by the Basel legate Philibert, bishop of Coutances. As lords, nobles, freemen, prelates, and canons, as well as councillors and burghers representing all four of Prague’s towns attended the offertory, it can be assumed that independent services were not held in Our Lady Before Tyne and other Utraquist churches.264 Contrary to Prague, cities in Lusatia deeply mourned for the dead Emperor who was such a rock of stability for them throughout the Hussite wars. Bells rang for 30 days at the turn of 1437–1438 in Görlitz. The city council also built a sarcophagus for the funeral mass.265 The city had further expenditures less than two years later when the news of Albert II’s death arrived. It appears the black cloth and sarcophagus survived from the previous ceremonies, as the city spent only 16 groschen in the week between November 8–15, 1439 on pupils carrying candles and for drinks for grooms.266 An extra 2 shillings and 6 groschen had to be spent later for candle wax.267 260 Further data was collected by Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, see the entry Trauerarchitektur in the index. 261 That is the content of a contemporary report, see Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, p. 151, n. 34. 262 On the funeral ceremonies in Nuremberg and in Frankfurt, see Hoensch, Kaiser Sigismund, p. 462. 263 Cf. Meyer, Königs- und Kaiserbegräbnisse, pp. 150–1. 264 Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, p. 79. 265 Oberlausitzer Urkunden von 1437–1457, CDLS IV, ed. Richard Jecht (Görlitz: Selbstverlag der Oberlausitzischen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften, 1911–1927), p. 78. 266 CDLS IV, p. 79. 267 CDLS IV, p. 80.

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Upon Albert’s death, all the bells in Prague’s churches rang out and Albert’s death was mourned in the traditional fashion: vigils and funeral ceremonies on November 11–12, 1439, at least in the cathedral and Catholic churches.268 Utraquists organized funeral services for Sunday, November 22 in Our Lady Before Tyne. Royal insignia, including swords, were placed on the “bier” on orders from the mayors and councillors (probably from all of Prague’s towns). We can only speculate whether these were the originals. In any case, “the community of both genders” contributed to the offertory, a rare case where the participation of women in a funeral for a Czech king is noted.269 A similar posthumous honour was bestowed by the church council on December 7, 1439 in Florence. Prior John Joffridi of the Burgundian monastery in Arbois celebrated the funeral mass for Roman, Czech, and Hungarian King Albert II. In Vienna, which was shocked by the unexpected change to Albert’s last will, university professor Thomas Ebendorfer was the main speaker.270 It appears the symbolic rites for Emperor Sigismund were still well remembered in Nurnberg and the ceremonies for his son-in-law did not differ significantly, including the candles surrounding the simulated grave. An imperial diet was in session in Frankfurt, which added a solemn air to the acts of remembrance. The news of the Emperor’s death caused mass grief, with some attendees allegedly flinging themselves on the floor. After several touching speeches, a vigil was organized for January 6 where nine mitre-wearing prelates read all nine lessons. A choral funeral mass was celebrated the following day where the Cologne Archbishop read the Epistles while his counterpart from Mainz read the Gospels. All participants wore black as a sign of their grief.271 The death of the next Czech king and successor to the throne Ladislaus Posthumous engendered a lively response throughout the realm, but more in terms of literature than in funerals in royal or other cities. Surprisingly, we have no reports of any taking place, even in Sileasian Wrocław or Vienna. However, he is the only Czech king in history to have an opulent funeral ceremony performed on his behalf in France. A report of Ladislaus’s death was dispatched 268 John of Bischofswerdy made the announcement to the Görlitz council from Prague on Nov. 18, 1439, see CDLS IV, p. 102. 269 Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, p. 87. The offertory took place despite the objections of the Utraquist priests, see Rudolf Urbánek, Věk poděbradský, vol. 1, (České dějiny III/1) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1915), p. 461, n. 4. 270 According to Thomas Ebendorfer Chronica regum Romanorum I, p. 832, the “solemnes exequie” took place in Vienna on January 28, 1440. Most probably, Ebendorfer himself composed “Epythanii planctus regis Alberti in suis exequiis MCCCCXL” for the event, which is printed in the first collection of this edition on pp. 600–2. 271 Citations of sources of all listed sources are listed in Deutsche Reichstagsakten unter König Albrecht II. Zweite Abteilung, ed. Helmut Weigel (Stuttgart: Perthes, 1935), pp. 426–7, note 1.

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to the embassy sent to France for his bride, the Princess Magdalena. The sad news arrived on December 24, 1457 in Tours, where the departure of the bride was being prepared. Charles VII, who was ill at the time, was informed only after several days out of fear his condition could deteriorate. In the meantime, Queen Marie of Anjou prepared a majestic funeral. A massive number of candles were procured for the church of St. Martin and 300 symbols of Ladislaus’s lands were produced. Another 500 were set aside for a nocturnal vigil where 500 black-clad individuals participated with large candles. All altars were covered in black and marked with the symbols. A raised catafalque with 1,000 candles became the centre of attention during the ceremonies. The embassy stopped on the return trip in Paris, where further funereal ceremonies were performed on January 9, 1458 in honour of the dead King Ladislaus.272 George of Poděbrady’s funeral (March 25, 1470) included all the corresponding ceremonies and symbols. However, there was no reason to mourn publicly the excommunicated monarch outside of Prague, especially in Moravia and secondary Czech crown lands belonging to King Matthias. The case was very different for the man who replaced both embattled sovereigns: Vladislaus II. As we already know, he was buried in Hungary in accordance with his wishes, which were known beforehand so the Czech lands could only plan for symbolic ceremonies. The report of the King’s death at 7 am on March 13, 1516 arrived in Prague on Holy Saturday, which was on March 22. Even if the sad news had spread throughout the city by the evening, the ringing of bells and funeral mass were postponed for a week in light of the Easter holidays. However, the Old Town Council sent out warnings on Easter Sunday of out of fear of unrest, summoning representatives of other royal cities to a meeting on April 2.273 Amid an atmosphere of high military alert, Mayor Jiřík Hrdina called a meeting of the Old Town Council on March 29, which ordered the city fathers to attend Monday’s funeral masses dressed in black with a black candle. The funeral was presaged by Sunday’s ringing of the bells in all of Prague’s churches. The councillors and city fathers met at 11 am on Monday at the Old Town Hall from which they departed in an orderly procession to attend the morning funeral mass in Our Lady Before Tyne. A bier covered in black samite emblazoned with “a golden cross with coats of arms” was brought from the parish house. Lord Burian Lazar had the honour of carrying the crown, while other councillors had the sceptre, orb, and wooden sword. All the insignia were 272 Broadly covered in Urbánek, Konec Ladislava Pohrobka, pp. 141–4. 273 On the tense situation in Prague caused by heightened relations between the estates, see Václav Vladivoj Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 10 (Prague: František Řiwnáč, 1894), pp. 418–20, which also goes into detail about the symbolism of the funeral.

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displayed on a previously prepared wooden podium covered in black cloth. A procession followed the service. Some councillors and city fathers walked in front of the clerics, while the insignia were carried behind. The butcher Ziga carried the royal banner; Master John Pašek the “silver-covered wooden sword;” Mayor Jiřík Hrdina the crown; John Hlavsa the sceptre from the right side, with John Nastojte holding the gold-covered orb in black taffeta on the other. These three in a row were followed by four black-clad “young men” with black hats and burning candles, followed by twelve (other sources cite a more believable eight) “exceptional” burghers in black marten fur carrying the bier “as if the king himself were laying upon it.” The procession exited the church, circumvented the square and returned. We can assume the named councillors returned the insignia to the table in front of the bier covered with a black damask.274 A mass celebrated by the Abbot of the Emmaus Monastery wearing a mitre followed.275 The mayor and councillors kneeled or sat around the bier under a large cross on benches covered in black cloth. After the sacrifices, priest Jakub Uher gave a sermon on the second chapter of the book of Daniel about the strange statue that appeared to Nebuchadnezzar in a dream. The preacher seemed to stress Daniel’s explanation that it is God who anoints kings and who deposes them. After the sermon, the mayor and his selected councillors approached the table in front of the bier, took the insignia, and carried them to the great altar where they gradually gave them to the abbot. He took the insignia and the wooden sword, which he broke in two, and placed them on a monstrance located on stool covered in black. “And they sang the canon to the end. And the banner was raised. Afterwards, everyone, the councillors, city fathers, priests, and other clerics and university masters went to the town hall, where Old Town Scribe Master Wenceslas thanked the elders in the name of the council.”276 A procession was also documented to have taken place in New Town at St. Henry’s “but with a shorter program.” This while the lords held a funeral mass in St. Vitus Cathedral during a session of the land courts only on May 26. Praguers were much more affected by the tragic death of 20-year-old Louis II of Hungary. The news of the massive defeat of his army at Mohács reached Prague on September 9, 1526, but various rumours as to the king’s 274 The main sources are three manuscripts “K, L, O” of the Old Czech Annals, published by Palacký, Staří letopisové čeští, pp. 397–8. 275 According to Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 9, p. 351, this was Matyáš (or Matouš) of Slaný. 276 Staří letopisové čeští, p. 398. Master John of Přeštice in the dean’s book of the artistic faculty only mentions “funebre officium, quod senatus Pragensis summa cum celebritate magnificentiaque executus est”, see Monumenta Universitatis Carolo-Ferdinandeae Pragensis, vol. I/2, (Prague: Universita Karlo-Ferdinandova, 1832), p. 260. A more concise report comes from Dean Jiří Písecký on the death of King Ladislaus (ibidem, pp. 282–3).

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fate swirled. Before Louis II’s death was confirmed on September 17, intense negotiations about the vacant throne began. A diet was called for October 5 in Prague, which was preceded by meetings of royal city representatives and a session of the land courts. Funeral masses for King Louis were scheduled for October 10 so domestic and foreign magnates, including the heir Archduke Ferdinand, could participate. Besides the foreign guests, officials and members of the diets of both higher estates participated in the ceremonies in the cathedral at Prague Castle, while the burghers and representatives from other cities gathered in the “lower” church of Our Lady Before Tyne.277 According to the Chronicle by the scribe Bartoš, the inhabitants of Prague tried to give the best impression to the participants by ringing bells and singing, but this was only “out of tradition more than grace and to not violate order.”278 This is documented by the impertinence recorded in the Memories of the Prague Uprising from 1524. When Master John Pašek announced the sad news of the king’s death in the Carolinium, a certain hat maker named Poledne remarked that “A happy day has come.”279 The preparations and procession essentially mimicked the symbolic funeral from ten years earlier, with only the honorary actors changing. This time, councillors carried the bier, more burning candles were visible, and participants of the diets attended as well.280 11

Conclusion

Only half of the royal funerals held in the two-century period under consideration in this study took place on Czech territory, while the other half were in Oradea and Székesfehérvár. These realities dictated that the funeral ceremonies included elements of two different courtly practices, which were supplemented to greater and lesser extents by Polish and French rites in the cases of John of Luxembourg and Charles IV. The unwritten records of funeral rites, if we can even discuss such a thing, and their individualities included more variability than we would expect. This was partially caused by negative external factors and partially by the selfish interests of close relatives who thought more of themselves than of the dearly departed. King or not, in their last moments, crowned heads had to face the inevitable fate of all mortals. 277 To the political negotiations after the Battle of Mohács, see Václav Vladivoj Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 11 (Prague: František Řiwnáč, 1897), pp. 1–24. 278 Kronika Bartoše písaře, ed. Josef V. Šimák, frb VI (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1907), p. 198. 279 Paměti o bouři pražské r. 1524, ed. Josef V. Šimák, frb VI, p. 327. 280 The councillors who carried the insignia were recounted by Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. 11, p. 14.

Chapter 4

Splendor Silesiae: Rituals, Ceremonies, and Festivities at the Silesian Courts Martin Čapský The territory historically known as Silesia (or more correctly Silesia and Opole), disintegrated into relatively small duchies, was controlled by the Bohemian kings only during the 14th and 15th centuries. The Silesian dukes constituted a unique aristocratic layer within the Bohemian crown lands, ranking just below the sovereign in the hierarchy of power. Most of the Silesian dukes came from the Piast dynasty – the Polish royal family that separated into several parallel lines in the 12th century. They gradually acquired the illegitimate line of the Přemyslids in the second half of the 15th century and the descendants of the Bohemian King George of Poděbrady. The displays of power and symbolic communication of the Silesian dukes thus combined archaic elements from the ducal period of the Polish states with inspiration from the royal court in Prague and probably the imperial environment as well. These “new” impulses included the feudal and loyalty oath that represented the fundamental political relationship to the Bohemian king and the crown itself. However, symbolic steps that defined relations between the lord and his territory that date back to a much older period showed the greatest momentum. The Bohemian king basically did not interfere with the internal matters of the duchies with their own dynasty of dukes. It should be noted that no central royal bodies existed in Silesia until the last third of the 15th century. The monarch and his court had to negotiate powers constantly with individual lords and later their associations. The mosaic of political relations was supplemented by duchies directly ruled by the Bohemian king and his authority was represented by a landshauptman or governor. In this uncertain power environment, symbolic behaviour played a very significant role by creating the relationship not only between the Bohemian king and the Silesian duchies, but also between the dukes and their territories. The varied elements on the palette of symbolic communication also included the actual feudal or loyalty oaths, promises to rule justly, and the locations where these acts took place. In the 13th and 14th centuries, many symbolic acts took place in churches or in open spaces close to churches. The legitimising potential of sacred sites was strengthened by saintly remains on display and a corps

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004514010_006

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of assembled clerics. With the passage of time, the role of the public began to grow. Raised platforms began to be built for the monarch, where he would receive oaths of loyalty. We thus encounter two ways of confirming agreed-upon treaties. Negotiations that culminated in a symbolic act on holy ground transferred guarantees of compliance to the transcendental realm. Symbolic acts that took place in front of as broad a public as possible where the protagonists often appeared on raised platforms relied on witnesses as representatives of the entire body politic as the guarantee to perform the specified act.1 1

Silesian Dukes as Vassals to the Bohemian King

The chronicle of Zbraslav from the first third of the 14th century includes records of the Bohemian Kingdom expanding at the expense of Poland. During King John of Luxembourg’s campaign against Cracow, he was sought out by the Polish, or upper Silesian, dukes and they swore fealty to him voluntarily, extending their right hand, testifying to the vassal oath.2 The words of the Zbraslav chronicler about extending a right hand as part of the vassal oath are among the few surviving narrative testimonies of accepting the duchy in fief. The generally described ritual is supplemented to a lesser extent in other written sources. John of Luxembourg’s document from 1327 testifying to the creation of Duke Henry VI’s vassalage first speaks of placing the entire territory into the king’s hands,3 only for the monarch to grant the Piasts the right to hold the fief as feudal lords for life. Duke John of Ścinawa also confirmed the transfer of the duchy and its rights into the hands of the king and in the next step he accepted the duchy back.4 We encounter a similar scene in the declaration of 1 A complete view of the feudal act of bestowing a fief as a social system was presented by Jacques Le Goff, “Le rituel symbolique de la vassalité,” in Pour un autre Moyen Âge. Temps, travail et culture en Occident: 18 essais (Paris: Gallimard, 1977), pp. 349–420 and Gerd Althoff, Die Macht der Rituale. Symbolik und Herrschaft im Mittelalter (Darmstadt: De Gruyter, 2003). 2 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, ed. Josef Emler, frb IV (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1884), p. 285: “Eodem tempore multi duces ad Johannem, regem Bohemiae, visitantem eorum terminos venerunt eiuque fidem et dexteram sub forma homagii ultronei prebuerunt.” 3 Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens und seiner einzelnen Fürstenthümer im Mittelalter, vol. I, eds. Colmar Grünhagen and Hermann Markgraf (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1881), pp. 66–7, no. 8: “… ad manus nostras virium compos suarum voluntarie resignavit ad commune terre sue commodum et honorem.” 4 Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens, vol. I, p. 129, no. 9: “… in manus regis ipsius sponte et libere nostro et nostrorum heredum et successorum nostrorum nomine resignantes, … a rege predicto suo heredum ac successorum suorum nomine et feudum perpetuum recepimus.”

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Henry IV the Faithful’s obligations, where he freely and fully gave up lordship over his duchy and accepted it in fief in return.5 The vassal oath was accompanied by the submission and subsequent return of the ducal banner. The first documentation of this ritual dates to 1289.6 The spear with the banner was a generally respected symbol of rule over a territory, a military attribute, and most importantly a symbol of ducal rank and honour. The duke gave up his “free” rule in order to re-acquire it as a vassal of the sovereign.7 Later testimonies also discuss the banner as a symbol of ducal power. A resolution from the Bohemian Diet in the mid-15th century mentions Silesian dukes presenting themselves to the king with unfurled banners and many iconographic sources include examples of this.8 Besides the image of lords and their banners decorating the walls of sacred and profane buildings, we can see the duke on a gold coin issued by Přemek, Duke of Opava. The representative coin was minted according to the example of the Hungarian ducat and the engraver at the beginning of the 1520s modified the attributes of the saintly ruler according to the wishes of the customer. The royal orb was removed from the saint’s hand, the crown and halo were replaced by a ducal hat, and the engraver substituted the axe with a ducal spear and banner.9 (figure 4.1) 5 Cf. Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens, vol. I, pp. 129–31, no. 10. 6 Archivum coronae regni Bohemiae, vol. I/1, ed. Václav Hrubý (Prague: Ministerstvo školství a národní osvěty, 1935), p. 50, no. 32: “Resignavi etiam et ex nunc resigno publice per vexillum meum eundem ducatum meum,”. Vassal oaths by Silesian dukes at the end of the Přemyslid and beginning of the Luxembourgs era were most recently studied by Robert Antonín, “Jan Lucemburský a slezská knížata v letech 1327–1329,” Slezský sborník 108 (2010), pp. 5–20; Robert Antonín, “Karel IV. a odkaz ‘polské’ politiky posledních Přemyslovců,” ČČH 108 (2010), pp. 34–69, and Přemysl Bar, “Lenní listiny z let 1271–1348 a integrace slezských vévodství do svazku zemí Koruny české,” in Slezsko země Koruny české. Historie a kultura 1300–1740, eds. Helena Dáňová, Jan Klípa and Lenka Stolárová (Prague: Národní galerie, 2008), pp. 103–13. 7 For the most recent study of the symbolism of the spear and banner as a sign of ducal honour, see Przemek Wiszewski, “Spór o honor pierwszych Piastów i ich miejsce wśród arystokracji Rzeszy. Przekaz Thietmara z Merseburga,” in Tomáš Borovský, Dalibor Janiš and Michaela Malaníková et al.: Spory o čest ve středověku a raném novověku (Brno: Matice Moravská, 2010), pp. 11–45. On the transformation in the understanding of this symbol in the oldest period of the Piast state, see Przemek Wiszewski, Domus Boleslai. W poszukiwaniu tradycji dynastycznej Piastów (do około 1138 roku) (Wrocław: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wrocławskiego, 2008), pp. 404–13. 8 Archiv český, vol. I, ed. František Palacký (Prague: Domestikální fond království Českého, 1840), pp. 268–72, no. 9. 9 Older historians associated the inspiration for the ducat with the alleged ducat from Margrave Jobst and thus doubted its validity. For the newest interpretation, see Martin Čapský, Vévoda Přemek Opavský (1366–1433). Ve službách posledních Lucemburků (Brno/Opava: Masarykova Univerzita, 2005), pp. 261–2.

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Figure 4.1 The Equestrian seal of Přemek I, Duke of Opava from August 26, 1433

The document issued in November 1344 for the benefit of Henry V of Iron lacked a reference to the transfer of the banner. The Bohemian king and the duke were in a different standing to one another than had been the case in the foundational wave of vassal oaths. The duchy had been previously declared a fief held in perpetuity and its fate was decided by the will of the sovereign who usually respected the hereditary rights of sons or close relations. Sovereign rights were no longer placed into the hands of the king because the duke no longer possessed them. The act of granting the fief was stressed, but it was primarily loyalty that obligated Henry V of Iron to King John of Luxembourg.10 10

Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens, vol. I, pp. 163–4, no. 38: “… alle unser lande und Glogow halbe und was dar zu ghört, da wir recht zu haben, … zu rechtem lehen und zu manschaft enphangen.” See Lenka Bobková, “Českému králi a koruně chceme zachovávat věrnost. Lenní a holdovací přísahy v zemích Česko koruny v pozdním středověku na

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An analogous shift in the rights declared when accepting the fief also appeared in sources characterising the position of other duchies. Boleslav III the Generous swore a vassal oath to the Bohemian king in 1329. In his document, John of Luxembourg wrote that the Piasts gave him and his successors on the Bohemian throne the Dutchy of Legnica including all holdings and rights before receiving the land back in fief.11 In 1343, the duke’s sons came before the king and while recalling their father’s vassal oath swore their own loyalty and vassal oaths, promising never to act against their natural lord.12 The vassal and loyalty oaths set the basic contours of relations between the monarch and the Silesian dukes for the coming decades. The usual order of steps is reflected in Wenceslas IV’s document issued in 1383 to the Legnica dukes Ruprecht and Boleslav. Both petitioners travelled to the Prague court where the sovereign confirmed their rights to the duchy acquired through a once previously-performed vassal oath accompanied by a pledge of loyalty.13 The use of symbolic communication should have ended recent political conflicts. On the same day (January 6), their uncle Louis I of Brzeg acquired confirmation of his holding of the Duchy of Brzeg after affirming his previously-sworn vassal oath and declaration of fealty made in the presence of the remains of saints, which accompanied the granting of the fief by the Bohemian king.14 Political practice based on the relationship between the king and a particular lord started to change in the late Middle Ages as a result of the gradual political unification of the Silesian territory. Silesian lords began to coordinate their actions beginning in the last third of the 14th century. Originally, this was represented only by joint actions against criminals and breakers of the peace.

11 12 13

14

příkladu Slezska a Horní Lužice,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity ve střední Evropě 14. a 15. století, eds. Martin Nodl and František Šmahel (Prague: Argo, 2009), pp. 51–63. Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens, vol. I, pp. 302–4, no. 2: “das lant ze Lygnitz … und alle andere ihre eygen lant, die er von sinen siner erben und nachkomeling namen uns mit willen und untbetwungen oufegeben hat, … verligen haben ze einem rechten erblehen.” Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens, vol. I, pp. 321–2, no. 21: “perpetue fidelitatis homagio solitum iuramentum.” Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens, vol. I, pp. 356–47, no. 45: “von uns als eynem konige czu Behem tzu furstenlichen lehen entpfangen haben und ouch dorubir gewonlich huldunge gelubde und eyde gethon haben.” The request to bestow the fief was an expected part of the ceremony associated with investiture that took place in a public space in front of witnesses. For more see Claudia Garnier, Die Kultur der Bitte. Herrschaft und Kommunikation im mittelalterlichen Reich (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2009), pp. 206–7. Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens, vol. I, pp. 347–8, no. 46: “als von eym kong czu Behem unserm liben gnedigen erbherren recht und redlich czu furstlichin lehen emphangen haben und ym ouch als eynem kong czu Behem gehuldet gelobt und gesworn haben leibhafftig eyde czu den heiligen.”

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The ducal association gradually began to take on more solid organizational forms and there are cases at the turn of the 14th and 15th centuries where associations of dukes began to represent Silesia as a unified political space. Soon afterwards, agreements between dukes and duchies immediately subordinate to the Bohemian crown were forged. The changing nature of the political field demanded a change in symbolic communication. The most striking element of the unifying territory was the oath sworn jointly to the new ruler as its form evolved over several decades. Some Silesian lords swore a joint oath of fealty to Sigismund of Luxembourg in the spring of 1420 at the beginning of the crusade against the Hussites. The act took place in Świdnica but was not considered a precedent.15 The late medieval tradition of mass loyalty oaths in Silesia is thus associated with King Albert II of Germany. In 1438, twelve Silesian lords swore together (though each for himself) on the Gospels to remain loyal to the king, to provide counsel, and to fulfil all their obligations to the Bohemian crown. The councilmen of the city of Wrocław took the oath on behalf of the Duchy of Wrocław.16 The surviving sources document another change. The Gospels replaced relics as what the dukes placed their hands on while taking the oath. The replacement of one “symbol” with another recalls a similar process seen in Imperial environments as early as the 13th century and it also shows the growing role of the public. We could take a further step in our study of connecting the strengthening of the role of the public with a weakening of the emphasis placed on the sacred legitimisation of the act. Oaths on the Gospels as opposed to relics become a personal obligation to God, as the saint ceases to be the guarantor of the contract (older versions of the tradition claimed the saint would use miracles to ensure fulfilment), while the public is given a more important political role. The oaths taken in the Wrocław square concurrently show the greater weight given to the assembly of burghers, whose chroniclers continued to stress the confluence of Wrocław’s interests with those of Silesia in terms of a unified political space.17 15 16 17

A number of Silesian lords swore fealty to Sigismund only during his stay in Svidnica. Cf. Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens, vol. I, pp. 392–3, no. 92. Cf. Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens, vol. I, pp. 20–1. On pledging using relics, see more detail in Marie Starnawska, Świętych życie po życiu. Relikwie w kulturze religijnej na ziemiach polskich w średniowieczu (Warsaw: DiG, 2008), pp. 405–414. For the religious level of the oath accompanied by a call to God as its guarantor, see André Holenstein, “Sellenheit und Untertanenpflichtung. Zur gesellschaftlichen Funktionen und theoretischen Begründung des Eides in der ständischen Gesellschaft,” in Der Flucht und der Eid. Die metaphysische Begründung gesellschaflichen Zusammenlebens und politischen Ordnung in der ständischen Gesellschaft, ed. Peter Blickle (Berlin: Duncker und Humblot, 1993), pp. 13–63.

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Beginning in the second third of the 15th century, two concurrent legalsymbolic acts defined the political environment of the territory. Mass oaths of loyalty sworn by the entire political representation began to take on more importance, especially for particular political institutions (associations of Silesian lords, associations of Silesian duchies ruled directly by the Bohemian crown). Next to these there were rituals associated with confirmation of the legal (vassal) dependence of individual duchies. The vassal oath was sworn into the hands of the Bohemian sovereign only when there was a change in the person of the duke, while a new king required “only” the obligation to declare fealty by taking an oath. During the visit of King Matthias Corvinus to Wrocław in 1469, the local understanding of welcoming the elected king was reflected in a series of loyalty oaths taken by Silesian lords and duchies directly ruled by the Crown, the Lusatian League, and Lower Lusatia.18 The Wrocław bishop, in the role of one of the Silesian lords, promised Matthias Corvinus directly with the help of God and [all] saints to maintain loyalty and obedience to him as a Bohemian king and feudal lord by right and the same pledge was then repeated by all the other magnates.19 The declaration of loyalty to the legitimate ruler was not associated with the repeated granting of the fief. According to Wrocław city scribe and chronicler Peter Eschenloer, who was a contemporary witness, the king’s stay in Wrocław saw one exception to this rule when he granted Duke Frederick I the Duchy of Legnica in fief to calm the situation in the territory after it was plunged into long-lasting conflict over succession to the deceased ducal family.20 A brief overview of vassal rituals performed by Silesian lords would not be complete without mentioning the behaviour of the Silesian Piasts in the Polish 18

19 20

Cf. Peter Eschenloer, Geschichte der Stadt Wrocław, vol. I, ed. Gunhilde Roth (Münster: Waxmann, 2003), p. 766 “… und huldten alle seinen koniglichen gnaden als eyne konig zu Behemen, nemlich alle ffursten in Slesien, auch alle mannen und stete in Slesien, auch die Sechslande und –stete Budissin, Görlitz, auch das marggrafftum Lusicz, und alle obgenanten zur cron in Behemen gehörende.” The oaths of loyalty sworn to George of Poděbrady have been omitted, as their timing and choice of place was determined by the spread of George’s political influence and the concurrent ban on the “heretic king” entering Wrocław. See Václav Filip and Karl Borchardt, Schlesien, Georg von Podiebrad und römische Kurie (Würzburg: Verein für Geschichte Schlesiens e.V., 2005). Lehns- und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens und seiner einzelnen Fürstenthümer im Mittelalter, vol. II, eds. Colmar Grünhagen and Hermann Markgraf (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1883), p. 655, no. 21. Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens, vol. I, pp. 452–4, no. 162. “… uns als seinen herrn und khönig zu Böheimb erkhandt ufgenommen, auch sein aydt und holdung die er eynem khönig zu Böhaimb pflichtig ist gethan hatt.”

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environment. In the mid-15th century, the Polish kings were successful in subjugating the fragmented Duchy of Oświęcim. The successful Polish expansion on the north-eastern edge of the Bohemian crown lands was facilitated by the empty throne in Prague and the weakened power of the small duchies. In 1440, Wenceslas I of Zator pledged fealty to the Polish king, followed by his brother John III of Oświęcim in 1453. The general framework of the ritual can be re-created using written records created by the Cracow court at the time. Reports of oaths of fealty pledged by the Duchy of Moldova and the Mazovian dukes also document the use of the rituals. The king sat on a raised platform surrounded by prelates and the royal council. The future vassal approached the monarch on horseback, accompanied by his court and holding his banner and the symbols of his duchy. After dismounting, he showed fealty to the sovereign with a request to retain his rights. He then placed his fingers on the cross and swore loyalty to the king and the Polish crown. The king then took him under his protection. As a sign of his favour, the king exchanged kisses of peace with the vassal and accepted the spear and banner from the duke. Another manuscript speaks of a king who accepts the banner from his vassal, returns it, and then takes the vassals clasped hands into his own, similarly to the Western European ritual of “hand and mouth.” The breaking of banners evidenced in a number of Polish ceremonies was different from rituals in the Western European space. The breaking of the banner by the sovereign or its being laying at the feet of the ruler was designed for a public that did not fully accept the symbolism of vassal rights and expected the vassal to subjugate himself as an act of recognising royal superiority. The main goal was the demonstration of royal majesty and not the granting of the fief per se. However, since the implementation of rites by the Luxembourgs, the Silesian environment began to differentiate itself gradually, and to a greater extent, over the coming decades.21 The final decade of the 15th century in the Silesian environment was notable for the establishment of central administrative institutions and how Vladislaus II of Hungary reacted to the reforms of his predecessor Matthias Corvinus. Silesian ideas about the territory as a political unit took on definite dimensions with the mass oaths of fealty – now inseparably associated with Wrocław (!) – proclaimed to the Bohemian monarch. The demand sent by the 21

On feudal holds at the Cracow court, see Zbigniew Dalewski, “Cermoniał hołdu lennego w Polsce późnego średniowiecza,” in Theatrum ceremoniale na dworze książąt i krolów polskich (Cracow: Zamek Królewski na Wawelu, 1999), pp. 31–4, and Maria Starnawska, “Hołdy książąt mazowieckich. Próba analizy ceremoniału,” Kronika zamkova 19 (1989), pp. 7–17. On the politics among the Dukes of Auschwitz, see Jerzy Rajman, Pogranicze śląsko-małopolskie w średniowieczu (Cracow: Wydawnictwo Naukowe Akademii Pedagogicznej, 2000), pp. 204–9.

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Silesian lords to King Vladislaus II in Buda was clear: once the king arrives in Wrocław, his loyal subjects will together (!) swear fealty to him according to Silesian tradition and rites as was the case with Vladislaus’s predecessors on the Bohemian throne.22 The road to a loyalty oath taken together was, as the above has shown, very gradual. On top of that, at the end of the 15th century, these were not promises of “future” holdings often made during the life of one monarch to the expected successor, but a political demand made by a confident landed community combining their lasting loyalty with a defined significant place of memory. Wrocław was a key referential point for the community where symbolic-legal acts defining the mutual relationship between central and ducal power took place (and nowhere else). This also represented a newly created tradition.23 The selection of locations where vassal oaths to the Bohemian king were taken had no symbolic rules for a long time, with the momentary location of the king’s court as the deciding factor. An exception comes in 1329 when the act took place in front of the Wrocław cathedral.24 The granting of a fief to Boleslav III the Generous was preceded by the declarative end to his conflicts with his brothers brokered by the Bohemian king. The public reconciliation of the siblings and their expressed consent with the expected vassal oath took place in a spot under the direct protection of St. John, to whom the cathedral was dedicated. The saint thus became the guarantor of a renewal of peace and not the promises of the Silesian Piasts.25 Transcendental guarantees of 22

23 24 25

Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens, vol. I, p. 48, no. 27: “… sobalde seine konigliche gnade gen Bresslaw kommet und und dorczu beschicken geruchet, alsdenne sullen wir holdunge und eide gemeiniklich noch gewonheit und ordenunge der Slezien an alle widersprechen seiner koniglichen gnaden thuen, also als unser vorfarn kunigen zu Behmen unsern erbhern geschworn und gelobet haben.” On places of remembrance for pre-modern cultures, see Jan Assmann, Písmo, vzpomínka a politická identita v rozvinutých kulturách starověku (Prague: Prostor, 2001), pp. 57–61. See Lehns– und Besitzurkunden Schlesiens, vol. I, pp. 306–7, no. 5. On the role of churches and their surrounding areas as public spaces, see Christoph Dartmann, “Medien in der städtischen Öffentlichkeit innere Friedensschlüsse in der italienischen Kommunen des Mittelalters,” in Fridensschlüsse. Medien und Konfliktbewältigung vom 12. bis zum 19. Jahrhundert, eds. Bent Jörgensen, Raphael Krug and Christine Lüdke (Augsburg: Wißner-Verlag, 2008), pp. 23–53; Arnd Reitemeier et al., “Kirchspiele und Viertel als ‘vertikale Einheit’ der Stadt des späten Mittelalters,” Blätter für Deutsche Landesgeschichte 141/142 (2005/2006), pp. 603–40 or Monika Apsner–Eichner, “Kirchhöfe  – öffentliche Orte der Fürsorge, Versorge und Seelsorge christlichen Gemeinschaften im hohen und späten Mittelalter,” in Camapana pulsante convocati. Festschrift anläβlich der Emeritierung von prof. Dr. Albrecht Haverkamp, eds. Frank G. Hirschmann and Gerd Mentgen (Trier: Kliomedia, 2005), pp. 159–96. On the role of saints as guarantors of renewed peace, see also Starnawska, Świętych życie, pp. 549–51.

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contracts must have been a great temptation for Luxembourgs’ interests. The area in front of a cathedral did not, however, become the permanent space for paying fealty. Silesian magnates continued to seek out the monarch on his trips, during stays in Prague, or even outside his own crown lands. Embarking upon the journey to their future lord helped establish relations of superiority and subordination, because by coming they expressed their respect and anticipated the next phase of the expected ritual.26 The above shift in the political nature of the late Middle Ages brought pressure to create new forms of symbolic acts. The Wrocław city council began advocating for the demand to pay fealty together within the territory of their city. This demand was based on the Silesian idea of the space as a unified territory with Wrocław as its capital. Even though the council’s ambitious plan did not come to fruition, the demand for the monarch’s presence and to take the oath of fealty in the Silesian capital gradually became common among the Silesian leaders. In 1498, Silesian lords conditioned their oaths with the king’s arrival, thus completing the transformation of the conglomerate of Silesian duchies into a territorial community. 2

Dukes as Royal Courtiers

The Legnica edition of the chronicle of Polish lords that deals with the Piasts from the Brzeg-Legnica line presented readers with a series of fabulous stories. According to one of the most well-known, Duke Louis II of Brzeg organized a feast for the imperial electors in Mainz so opulent that the Roman King Sigismund of Luxembourg himself forbid the sales of heating wood to the duke in order to not be eclipsed by his own courtier and diplomat. Louis remained calm and avoided embarrassment by buying a large amount of walnuts. The duke ordered his servants to maintain the fire with shells while he exquisitely served the highest-ranking members of the imperial aristocracy.27 26

27

Although we cannot rely on any direct evidence, it is likely that because of the tight timing other vassal acts could have taken place in front of the cathedral in 1329. The oath from Boleslav is documented to have been on May 9, the same day Henry IV the Faithful declared his vassal obligation, and Conrad Spindleshanks took his a day later, while John of Ścinawa pledged fealty on April 29. Compare with Archiv Koruny české, vol. II. Katalog listin z let 1158–1346, ed. Rudolf Koss (Prague: Zemský správní výbor, 1928), pp. 118–9, no. 148; pp. 120–1, no. 152; 121–2, no. 153, pp. 122–3, no. 154. See Józef Mandziuk, Historia kościoła katolickiego na Śląsku, vol. I/2 (Warsaw: Uniw. Kardynała Stefana Wyszyńskiego, 2004), pp. 33–45. Liegnitzer Chronik, ed. Franz Wachter, srs XII (Wrocław: Josef Max & Komp., 1883), pp. 98–99. On interpreting this excerpt, see M. Čapský, Vévoda Přemek, p. 17.

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This constructed story was clearly meant to raise the position of the former magnate of Brzeg in his role as a “benevolent prince” whose primary characteristic in this period became wisdom (sapientia); all while playing a key role in the traditional chivalric framework of defending his honour, in this case from the Roman king himself.28 The story is rather exceptional, however, as Silesian princes were more likely to use the sovereign’s majesty for their own self-presentation instead of having the means or even desire to compete with the monarch. We can thus find the Silesian Piasts and Přemyslids at the side of King and Emperor Charles IV on his trips to Italy, France, and his own imperial territory. In 1355, Duke Henry V of Iron was wrapped in a golden chivalric band after the coronation Charles IV and other dukes were in the Luxembourg’s retinue.29 Individuals were selected to be diplomats for the Luxembourgers to Avignon. Duke Przemyslaus I Noszak of Cieszyn was charged with a special mission: brokering a marriage between the English king and Wenceslas IV’s sister Anna. He was richly rewarded for his efforts when Wenceslas IV gave him the crown’s half of the Duchy of Głogów in fief.30 With their presence, the Silesian lords also helped increase the prestige of the travelling royal court. However, despite their standing in the aristocratic hierarchy they never acquired an institutionalised role in the coronation ritual of Bohemian kings. Contemporary reports name them only as spectators and participants in the procession. We do find the Silesian dukes in studies of accompanying events, chivalric games, or in knightings.31 The dukes had even more space during visits by the king to their territory. Beginning in the 28 29

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Wojciech Iwańczak, “Wizja monarchy – Ryczerza idealnego w kulturze okresu predhusyckiego,” Śląski kwartalnik historyczny Sobótka 38 (1963), pp. 1–21. On the participation of Silesian dukes in the retinue of Charles IV, see František Šmahel, The Parisian Summit, 1377–78. Emperor Charles IV and King Charles V of France. (Prague: Karolinum, 2014), and from the perspective of the Opava duke, see Dalibor Prix, “Vévoda Václav I. Opavský. Příspěvek k dějinám Opavského vévodství počátkem poslední čtvrtiny 14. století,” Acta historica et museologica Universitatis Silesianae Opaviensis 3 (1997), pp. 54–89. For more on the knighting of Henry II, see Marian Kapłon, Głogów i księstwo głogowskie w okresie średniowiecza. Genealogia Piastów Głogowskich (Głogów, 2003), p. 94. See also Idzy Panic, Książe cieszyński Przemysl Noszak (*ok. 1332/1336–†1410). Biografia polityczna (Cieszyn: Polskie Tow. Historyczne, 1996). For the coronation rites of Czech kings, see the chapter of Václav Žůrek in this book and Demeter Malaťák, “Korunovace přemyslovských králů,” in Stát, státnost a rituály přemyslovského věku. Problémy, názory otázky, eds. Martin Wihoda and Demeter Malaťák (Brno: Matice moravská, 2006), pp. 47–66. Regal insignia were presented in the coronation procession beginning in the 12th century while the act of carrying them was dictated by high-ranking land and court offices. Cf. Václav Žůrek, “Dvůr a dvorská hierarchie v korunovačním řádu pozdně středověkých Čech,” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku,

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second third of the 15th century, there is an increase in the number of chronicle entries that record joint ducal-royal festivities. King Albert II knighted several dukes in Wrocław and other magnates accompanied the sovereign during the renewal of the city council, meetings with a Polish embassy, and during major church services. King Albert II even participated in the tournament held during the wedding of Duke Wenceslas I of Cieszyn to the widow of Louis II of Brzeg. The decision to take part was unfortunate, however, as he was unhorsed and injured by the bride’s brother Albrecht III Achilles, the Elector of Brandenburg, unexpectedly extending his stay in Wrocław.32 Wrocław scribe and chronicler Peter Eschenloer took note of all rituals, ceremonies, and festivities paid for by the Wrocław community during subsequent royal visits. According to his records, the tournament organized during the visit of Ladislaus Posthumous almost became a massacre of the allegedly rule-violating heretical Bohemians in attendance by the Silesians.33 The demanded arrival of Matthias Corvinus in 1469 caused the city to take on more debt. Together with the magnates, the king spent his free time at opulent balls and participated in tournaments that were held daily outside the city hall. On the feast of Corpus Christi, a lavish eucharistic procession took to the streets as six dukes had the prominent role of carrying the baldachin and other magnates took part in the royal procession. Conflicts with the city were forgotten for the moment as casks of heavy wines and beer from Wrocław and Bautzen were taken from the city’s cellars to the houses of the magnates.34 A similar reception was created for Matthias’s successor to the Hungarian and Bohemian throne, Vladislaus II of Hungary.35

32

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vol. III. Všední a sváteční život na středověkých dvorech, eds. Dana Dvořáčková-Malá and Jan Zelenka (Prague: Historický ústav AV ČR, 2009), pp. 93–103. Ze starých letopisů českých, eds. Jaroslav Porák and Jaroslav Kašpar (Prague: Svoboda, 1980), p. 137; Coronatio Adalberti regis Romanorum Ungariae et Bohemiae, ed. Franz Wachter, srs XX (Wrocław: Josef Max & Comp., 1883), p. 27. For more summarising the current state of research, see Mlada Holá “‘Fuit honorifice susceptus’. Holdovací cesty českých panovníků do Vratislavi v pozdním středověku,” in Korunní země v dějinách českého státu, vol. III. Rezidence a správní sídla v zemích České koruny ve 14.–17. století, eds. Lenka Bobková and Jana Konvičná (Prague: Togga, 2007), pp. 292–3. Duke Louis V of Bavaria separated the Czech tournament participants from the threatening mob. See Peter Eschenloer. Geschichte der Stadt Wrocław, vol. I, p. 179. Peter Eschenloer, vol. I, pp. 763–5. Peter Eschenloer, vol. I, pp. 764 and 768. The list of “pro honor” gifts helps identify the lords present. Besides the previously mentioned participants of the Eucharistic procession, duke John of Gliwice from the Oświęcim Piasts, duke Przemko of Cieszyn, duke Wenceslas of Rybnik, and duke John of Głubczyce of the Ratibor and Opava Přemyslids attended, as did Duchess Bolka of Głogów. For the more recent work on royal visits, see Mlada Holá, “Holdovací cesty a návštěvy českých králů ve slezské Vratislavi v pozdním

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The Duke of Brzeg offered accommodation to part of Vladislaus’s retinue as it went to Wrocław through Nisa and Olava in 1511, excelling in welcoming the king. The duke met him dressed in Hungarian-styled red clothing and shining armour, accompanying his 50 mounted men in a carriage overlaid in gold costing 600 gold pieces. It was made by Swabian craftsmen and was pulled by horses wearing gold-layered horseshoes.36 This demonstration of luxury was beyond the means of most medieval ducal houses whose members had to satisfy themselves with much less opulent displays. This should be viewed more likely as a prelude to the birth of the Renaissance cavalier. 3

Representation of the Silesian Dukes at Their Courts

The ducal hat and chivalric armour including a sword, or less often a spear, are among the traditional attributes carved into the surviving headstones of Silesian dukes that visually recalled their dual role as prince-magnate and prince-knight. Headstones always represented a specific multi-layered medium that kept the memory of the deceased alive. In the case of aristocratic dynasties, their placement in a prestigious space (most often in the chancel or a privileged chapel of an abbey church) also played a role, as did their collection. Together, they create a notion of “lasting” and thus the tradition of blessed rule by the ducal dynasty. The sculptures did not capture the individual image of the deceased, which was not the task given to the contracted artist anyway, but a general idea of ducal power. The decorations of belts, pearl-studded ducal hats, and luxurious delicate decorations to clothing (probably dependent on the individual style of the sculptor) were secondary, but their inclusion in the previously-ordered composition helped create the picture of a magnate-knight that was to be remembered.37

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středověku (1437–1526),” in Lenka Bobková et al., Česká Koruna na rozcestí. K dějinám Horní a Dolní Lužice a Dolního Slezska na přelomu středověku a raného novověku (1437– 1526) (Prague: Casablanca, 2010), pp. 166–91. Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX. Urkunden der Stadt Brieg, ed. Colmar Grünhagen (Wrocław: J. Max & Comp., 1870), p. 175, no. 1238. On the role played by headstones in presenting the ducal house, see Janusz Kębłowski, Pomniki Piastów śląskich w dobie średniowiecza (Wrocław: Zakład Narodowy imienia Ossolińskich, 1971), pp. 14–5. For the most recent work on ducal headstones, see Dagmar Adamska–Heś, “Wokół problematiky tumby nagrobnej Bolka II w Krzeszowie,” in Viae historicae. Ksęga jubileuszowa dedykowana Profesorowi Lechowi a. Tyszkiewiczowi w siedemdziesiątą rocznicę urodzin, eds. Mateusz Goliński and Stanisław Rosik (Wrocław: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wrocławskiego, 2001), pp. 321–30 and Bogusław Czechowicz, “Późnogotycki nagrobek pary książęcej w dawnym kościele dominikanek w Raciborzu,”

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Luxury goods meant wealth, success, and God’s favour, which helped the prince rule over the land. It was a constant legacy that the dynasty stressed while caring for the salvation of its members and communicating with subjects. Lavish and costly clothing, jewels, or an expensive weapon were naturally not just attributes reserved for the dead. Their use expressed elements of symbolic communication with the world of the living and they belonged among the traditional characteristics that helped create the prince’s authority in everyday life.38 As such, they naturally found themselves in another role – in the position of items tallied, valued, and divided in the process of the fragmentation of the individual Piast and Přemyslid lines. The division of family treasures included several relics, jewels, and weapons that were seen not only as items made out of precious metals, but chiefly as possessing exceptional symbolic potential.39 We find a series of examples of a similar view in Silesian sources. In 1437, the dukes of Ratibor signed a contract among themselves adjusting not only the division of the territory, but also their family treasure. All the silver was to be divided into two halves, as was the arsenal that included cannons, ammunition, and armour. The treaty also dealt with the family’s relics. They were to remain temporarily at Ratibor castle, which was to belong to Wenceslas, but they were catalogued in the presence of witnesses and upon Nicholas’s request the remains in question were to be made accessible. The third area of property was the documents. The complicated separation of privileges confirming the dukes of Ratibor and Opava’s inherited status was resolved through compromise. The archive including primarily imperial and royal privileges remained at Ratibor and Nicholas was to have free access to them. Debt notes

38

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Opolski rocznik muzealny 10 (1992), pp. 33–54. These also cite the results of older research about the topic usually led in an artistic–historic or heraldic–genealogical direction. The headstones do not display the dukes as individuals as this aspect was reflected in the date of death, but instead as social types. This thesis allows us to approach the sculptures as a collection of characteristics, similar to Peter Burke’s approach to modern portraits. Cf. Peter Burke, Žebráci, šarlatáni, papežové. Historická antropologie raně novověké Itálie. Eseje o vnímání a komunikaci (Prague: H&H, 2007), p. 22: “Portraits must be considered a form of communication, silent speech, a theatre of status, a set of characteristics representing views and values and as a tool for self-presentation.” A weakening of the symbolic potential was reflected in their melting down and secondary use. This fate of former ducal treasures is shown indirectly in the recently collected items for the broad exhibition “Silesia – The Pearl in the Bohemian Crown.” Not much has survived from the treasures of Silesian lords and the presented items from precious metals all came from ecclesiastic sources. The connection with liturgy permanently provided the gold items a symbolic importance exceeding the value of the metal itself. See the exhibition catalogue Slezsko – perla v České koruně. Tři období rozkvětu vzájemných uměleckých vztahů, eds. Andrzej Niedzielenko and Vít Vlnas (Prague: Národní galerie, 2006).

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were treated differently as they were divided between both dukes and were no longer listed as part of the common archive. Both parties also agreed to use the hunting ground surrounding the monastery in Rudy.40 The Ratibor example shows the basic types of property kept in the ducal chambers41 and the close connection with the familial ducal archive. The list of relics was also assembled ad hoc according to the documents because such a step had no meaning for the daily activities of the court. The complete nature of the collection of valuables was accompanied by the memories of the ducal courtiers and each item thus had its own “history.” It is in this spirit that Opava Duke Bolek explained to a nobleman that the gold crown, large horn covered in silver, and a similar chalice were the former valuables of the wife of Wenceslas, Duke of Opava, the mother of the current Duke John of Głubczyce.42 In their city book, the burghers of Brzeg recorded the existence of a collection of silver dishes that included six bowls, one large bowl, four chalices, and a pitcher, with the postscript that the items were sent by the Duchess of Mazovia.43 The absence of inventories from ducal chambers forces us to turn to other sources that offer only partial information, which include sparse mentions in city books, records of collateral for debts, contracts dividing family property among ducal benefactors, and any last wills and testaments that survived in document form. 40

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Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. VI., eds. Wilhelm Wattenbach and Colmar Grünhagen (Wrocław: J. Max & Comp., 1865), pp. 59–61, no. 195. The continuity of hunting grounds was documented on the Habsburg example by Michael Laichmann, Die kaiserlichen Hunde. Das Rüdenhaus zu Erdberg in der Organisation der kaiserlichen Jägerei in Niederösterreich 16. bis 18. Jahrhundert (Vienna: Deuticke, 2000), pp. 7–8. The tradition shifts the beginning of hunts here to the Babenberg dynasty. In other cases, revenue from mining activities or weavers could also be divided as was the case with the Opava Přemyslids in 1434. Cf. Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. VI., pp. 55–7, no. 188. The royal chamber during the twilight of the Přemyslids provided a similar picture as it included an analogous list of valuables including relics, valuable dishware, crown jewels, expensive clothing, other jewels, etc. Some of the liturgical items and paraments were found in the royal chapel of All Saints. For more see Libor Jan, Václav II. a struktury panovnické moci (Brno: Matice moravská, 2006), p. 74. A strikingly different view is offered by inventories of the Burgundian dukes, which were studied by Martin Nejedlý, Fortuny kolo vrtkavé. Láska, moc a společnost ve středověku (Prague: Aleš Skřivan ml., 2003), pp. 74–7. Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. VI., p. 92, no. 284. On material from the imperial environment, see the analogous relationship in Karl-Heinz Spieß, “Materielle Hofkultur und ihre Erinnerungsfunktion im Mittelalter,” in Mittelalterliche Fürstenhofe und Erinnerungs­ kulturen, eds. Carola Fey, Steffen Krieb and Werner Rösener (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007), pp. 167–84. Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX, p. 86, no. 602.

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Each of the listed sources includes mentions of ducal treasuries from a different point of view. Documents from medieval Wrocław have a special place among surviving city books. Their pages tell us about ducal jewels used as collateral, unpaid-for silver and gold dishes, liturgical items, and relics. A similar picture comes from documents about loans taken from Jewish financiers.44 Their important role in the local circulation of money is not ignored by the narrative sources. The chronicle of the Legnica dukes describes an act of mercy committed by the Duke of Brzeg: one of Louis of Brzeg’s towns was being sold in a stylized retelling of his return from Turkish captivity. He learned of the suffering of his subjects in Prague and, deeply touched by the sacrifice, sold his jewels to the Prague Jews, borrowed money from Bohemian lords, and ransomed the town. The idea of a prince returning from captivity with valuable jewels was an embellishment by the chronicler, but for us the expected meaning of presenting this “event” in this way is very interesting. The sale of personal jewels was described by the chronicler as an extreme solution where the duke gives up his personal valuables in favour of the good of the territory.45 A view into ducal treasures was presented by the unexpected discovery of a cache in an Opole house at the end of the 19th century. A burgher hid pawned ducal valuables in a hiding place probably around the turn of the 13th and 14th centuries. Besides knives decorated with precious metals, clothes, and jewels, a golden florin with a lily from 1310 transformed into a ring with the ducal coat of arms was also discovered. This piece also testifies to a de-monetisation of gold and (rare) currency in the first half of the 14th century in Upper Silesia. Coins transformed as such also found their way into the possession of a number of Silesian Piasts.46 Reports about divvying up property within a ducal dynasty are rather rare, contrary to oftentimes very precise division of income and the setting of borders of newly created domains. Besides the previously-mentioned Ratibor example from 1437, Przemysław I Noszak had to resolve a conflict in 1464 between Duchess Margaret of Ratibor on one side and brothers Wenceslas and 44

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An example comes from the Prague chapter of the Order of St. Clare, who stored items and relics with master goldsmith Wenceslas (“Wenczlaw Goltschmyt von Prage”) at the outset of the Hussite troubles, including the arm of St. Prokopius of Sázava in a silver reliquary. The master, who moved back to Prague after Sigismund of Luxembourg took the throne (as documented by the sale of a house in Wrocław), retuned everything in order. Cf. Archiwum państwowe Wrocław, fond Akta miasta Wrocławia, Libri excessum et signaturarum (1436–1437), microf. num. T 80 397, p. 68. Liegnitzer Chronik, srs XII, p. 100. Cf. Borys Paszkiewicz, Pieniądz górnośląski w średniowieczu, (Lublin: Wydawnictwo Uni­ wersytetu Marii Curie-Skłodowskiej, 2000), pp. 50–1.

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John of Ratibor on the other over a relic (three thorns) stored in the chapel at the Ratibor castle, as well as access to the family’s archive. The Duke of Cieszyn decided the relics must not leave the castle chapel and the family’s privileges should remain in the hands of the lord of Ratibor with both sides able to access the family treasury.47 A specific category of sources that occasionally provide a rare view into ducal chambers are surviving testaments. Besides wills with a clear political legacy and intent to manage family conditions into the future, there are also detailed instructions on handling personal items, set rewards for servants, and desires for funeral arrangements. Duke Louis I of Brzeg had his testament recorded in 1396. He stressed assuring the future of the chapter of St. Hedwig of Silesia that he founded in Brzeg and did not fail to include acts of humility and charity in the expected funereal ceremonies. Benefactors were obligated to provide gifts to the pupils of the parish school, clerics without property, and poor people, who should receive the duke’s clothes and capes. His bed linens were donated by the family to the Brzeg hospital. Cloth of gold was used to make a chasuble for chapter priests. The lord of Brzeg also recalled his scribe Nicholas, who received silver from the duke’s melted seals to make a chalice, while the golden seal remained with Louis’s family. Books, chasubles, chalices, monstrances, relics, precious stones, jaspers, and crystals were to remain in the possession of the chapter of St. Hedwig founded by the duke.48 The range of individual items in the inventory again shows this was not a complete picture of the family treasure as such. Besides finances, Louis of Brzeg only listed his personal items (clothing, bed linens), objects symbolising his personal power (seals), and the property of the Brzeg chapter, confirming his earlier donations and the foundational rights that were now transferred to his successors.49 At least part of Louis’s extensive library was later administered by his descendants and the same can be expected for the nucleus of the family treasure kept in precious metals and relics.50

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Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. VI, p. 87, no. 268. Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX, pp. 253–5, no. 36. The foundational charter from June 1386 was accessible in Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX, pp. 251–3, no. 35b. The library of Louis I of Brzeg included De regimine principum which was later owned by Wrocław Bishop Wenceslas of Legnica. Cf. Legnica: Zarys monografii miasta, ed. Stanisław Dąbrowski (Wrocław/Legnica: Silesia, 1998), p. 69. The personal assets of Duke Wenceslas of Opole after his death in 1453 included jewels, money, and promissory notes where the duke was the creditor. Cf. Jerzy Horwat, Księstwo opolskie i jego podziały do 1532 r. (Rzeszów: Wyd. Uniwersytetu Rzeszowskiego, 2002), p. 227, note 126.

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The will of the Duke of Brzeg and Legnica is also interesting for the descriptions of places where parts of the family treasure were kept. Louis’s charter directly speaks of the sacristy and chapel where the parament, relics, monstrance, and other liturgical items were kept. It also mentions the tower and there is space reserved for other less-directly specified places. The church is mentioned as one of the books is attached to the pulpit with irons. The above-discussed dukes of Ratibor also kept relics in the chapter church at their castle.51 The assets of churches, both parish and convent, in which the lord held foundational rights were understood as a less constrained part of ducal treasures and the dukes did not hesitate to use these reserves of precious metals in necessary cases.52 Valuables left in chapels and churches were, at least during important church holidays, displayed for the faithful to see. Acquiring these liturgical items attracted more attention than those whose only currency were precious metals. 51

52

Cf. Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX, pp. 253–5, num. 36. The castle spaces reserved for the magnate are reflected in the urbarium of the Ratibor chateau from 1595. While the ground floor was reserved for meetings of the land court, the first floor was home to a large hall associated with ducal representation, a chamber, bedroom, an armoury, and other chambers empty at the time. Cf. Augustin Weltzel, Geschichte der Stadt Ratibor (Ratibor, 1861), pp. 290–1. The duke also had the first floor of the Opava chateau reserved for him and similar arraignments were at other residential seats. See Martin Čapský, “‘… okna sklenná, ale některá kolečka od povětří vybita  …’ Reflexe rozpadu zeměpanské rezidenční sítě na pozdně středověkém Opavsku,” in Korunní země v dějinách českého státu, vol. III, pp. 187–206; Bogusław Czechowicz, Książęcy mecenat artystyczny na Śląsku u schyłku średniowiecza (Warsaw: DiG, 2005); Małgorzata Chorowska, Rezydencje średniowieczne na Śląsku. Zamki, pałace, wieże mieszkalne (Wrocław: Oficyna Wydawnicza Politechniki Wrocławskiej, 2003). In 1485, Viktorin of Poděbrady, Duke of Münsterberg and Opava was remedying the changes made by Duke Přemek I of Opava when he complained what pain it caused him to see the holy relics displayed in a wooden monstrance in a document that survived in the copies of the Opava municipal privileges and in the archive of the Dominican convent. He set out to set aside a sum for a new silver monstrance that no descendant or successor was allowed to remove from the church assets. Viktorin encountered the events mentioned above. In the time of his predecessors, especially during the time of Duke Přemek I, some of the liturgical items, such as chalices, monstrance, or crosses were used to defend the territory from the Hussites. Cf. Das Buch der Stiftungen zum ehemaligen Dominikaner–Kloster in Troppau, ed. Gottlieb Kürschner (Opava: Verlag des Stadtmuseums, 1903), pp. 15–6. The freedom the dukes had in accessing church property can be seen from another event in the life of Viktorin of Poděbrady. During the time he held the Duchy of Pless, he visited a local parish rectory, entered the chamber, examined the chest inside and found a seal from former Opava and Ratibor Duke Wenceslas. See more in Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. VI, pp. 118–9, no. 359.

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We can see a reflection of this attention in the pages of the Legnica ducal chronicle in a chapter expressively called: “How the Head of St. Andrew’s Came to Legnica.” It highlights the role of Ruprecht of Legnica, who sent the remains of St. Andrew, stolen in Morea and transported to Silesia, back to their original resting place and as a reward received a fragment of the apostle’s skull. The newly-built silver reliquary displayed for the faithful to see could be identified by its Greek lettering.53 Jobst of Glucholaz, abbot of the Augustinian monastery (In area) in Wrocław, discussed relics held by Silesian princes in his chronicle. The parts of the texts that stress his activities and expanding the monastery’s assets listed relics acquired from Duke Conrad IV from his family’s collection kept at their residence.54 These included the head of one of ten thousand holy knights acquired along with holy relics with a papal bull, and other relics from the bodies of St. Catharine, St. Anne, St. Cordula, Agnes of Bohemia, wood from the true cross, a fragment of cloth from the Lord’s tunic and other pieces of clothing, a piece of cloth from the shroud Jesus was wrapped in, and a piece of St. Mary’s cloak and her belt that Conrad’s ducal predecessors had acquired from the Emperor in Constantinople.55 The items were placed into a container in a large cross and kept with other relics in the reliquary at the Oleśnica castle. Jobst did not fail to mention the large monstrance and the exceptionally polished beryl used to decorate the reliquary.56 The abbot was able to enrich further his monastery thanks to Świdnica and Jawor Governor Albert of Colditz, who may not have been a duke, but his possession of splinters from the post where Jesus was whipped, fragments of cloth from the shroud Jesus wore on the cross, pieces of John the Baptist’s shirt and St. Agatha of Sicily’s shroud suggest the paths relics might have taken to end up in ducal hands. The Colditz family acquired them directly from the pope while Thim of Colditz held the post of Bishop of Meisen and they soon became part of the family treasure.57 Ducal treasuries including relics and valuables were thus not a constant unit that were sold off in moments of financial need, but a valuable asset 53 54 55 56

57

Liegnitzer Chronik, srs XII, pp. 96–7. Chronica abbatum Beate Mariae virginis in Area, srs II, ed. Gustav Adolf Stenzel (Wrocław: Josef Max und Komp, 1859), p. 234. Chronica abbatum, srs II, pp. 234–5. Chronica abbatum, srs II, pp. 234–5. Reliquaries of the True Cross were very popular at Piast courts in the late medieval period, which the magnates encouraged with the possibility to acquire indulgences associated with adoration of this important Christological symbol. For more see Starnawska, Świętych życie, pp. 109–10. Chronica abbatum, srs II, pp. 234–5. On how relics travelled through Central Europe, see M. Starnawska, Świętych życie, pp. 140–73.

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that supported ducal representation and the usual position in the hierarchic exchange of gifts. This expression of social communication is more assumed than documented in a number of cases. One of the few mentions comes from the very dawn of the modern period in the accounting records of Sigismund, Jagiellonian prince and duke of Opava and Głogów, which provide extraordinary insights. Frederick of Legnica and other Silesian magnates exchanged gifts with Sigismund, sent musicians to one another, invited each other to feasts, and ducal treasures played an important role in strengthening these ties.58 A series of Silesian noble families that had fallen on harder times found it increasingly difficult to display “generosity,” one of the demanded ducal attributes, in the late medieval period and we encounter greater efforts to regulate expenditures. These fears take on a marked appearance in cases of mutual inheritance agreements: cases where one of the ducal lines lacks a male heir and the dissolution of the ducal treasure was a real threat.59 In the agreement from 1407 that guaranteed inheritance between the Opava and Ratibor lines, the dowries of the daughters of the Opava Přemyslids were set according to the nobility of the future husband. A suitor who was not of ducal blood received a dowry of one thousand grzywna (ingots) of Prague groschen less.60 The costs of weddings for the daughter of magnates often reached exceptional amounts and paying for them was a problem even for those of higher aristocratic standing than that of the Silesian dukes. Efforts to display proper representation could then lead to borrowing jewels from the groom’s family, especially if they belonged to a non-ducal family as was the case of the wedding between Duchess Anna of Opava and John of Házmburk and Kost in 1461. The nobility of the ducal 58

59

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For more see Horwat, Księstwo, p. 255, note 288. The ways of interpreting the unique surviving Jagiellonian accounts from the turn of the 15th and 16th centuries were suggested by Petr Kozák, “‘Citharedo cum cane saltante ad mandata domini principis dedi …’ Všední den na dvoře hlohovského a opavského vévody,” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku, vol. III., pp. 223–39. As the author suggests, the courtly life of a Jagiellonian prince must be more associated with the court than with the representational model of Silesian dukes. A similar step was taken by the last of the Opava Přemyslids, Duke John Pious, who (probably after his immediate family died of plague) donated some of his family’ jewels to the Franciscan convent they founded, including a pearl crown for a monstrance, cloth of gold for chasubles, and other cloth for liturgical shrouds. See ms Prague, Knihovna Národního muzea, Nostická knihovna, Annales oppidi Leobschyzensis, d 12, fol. 11. Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. VI, pp. 27–8, no. 112. The contract was never enacted thanks to the marriage of John II, Duke of Opava–Ratibor to a relative of the Polish king and the birth of two male heirs of the Ratibor line. The dowry of the daughter of Duke Přemek of Opava, the wife of John Jičínský of Kravaře, thus greatly exceeded the upper limit of the given contract. For more see Čapský, Vévoda Přemek, pp. 169–71.

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daughter was her main asset. The newly-acquired prestige for the noble family can be displayed in a much more prosaic way. The document listing the borrowed clothing, jewels, gold, and silver from the family of the groom, whose marriage to a bride of ducal (and by extension royal) blood but meagre means was a surge of prestige for the Bohemian noble family, also includes an unexpected testimony. The bride’s mother refused to return most of the items after the wedding. Some of the jewels thus served not only the bride, but also to represent her ducal parents.61 The assets held by the Silesian dukes only became a true dynastic treasure when put on display (in the case of expensive clothing or jewels) or demonstratively exchanged (in the case of relics) in front of observers. Expensively-made and richly-illuminated manuscripts played a similar role, as was the case with the extensive Lublin Codex with a German-language legend of St. Hedwig and other written records of her life assembled on orders from Duke Louis I of Brzeg. The duke thus became in his own mind and in the mind of the public the creator of the codex, such as when Legnica Duke Wenceslas II initiated the chronicle of Silesian dukes. Both acts were another characteristic of a successful ruler.62 Demonstrations of wealth had other dimensions that we should not ignore. Every ducal family was rather dependent on loans to cover immediate expenses. The size and conditions of these loans were determined by the creditor’s estimate of the debtor’s ability to pay. In moments of a rather visible loss of assets, this entire system of mutually supporting loans began to collapse and threatened to upend the debtor’s finances. Lavish displays of wealth were a means of communication among the aristocratic levels of society that aided in marriage politics, building networks of supporters, and squelching potential rivals.63 This symbolic communication between the dynasty and its surrounding environment played a role not only in presenting the 61

62 63

Dalibor Prix, “Vévoda Václav II. Opavský a Hlubčický. Ve stínu otce, husitů a bezvládí,” Časopis Slezského zemského muzea B – 48 (1999), p. 206. On the date of the wedding, see Marek Starý, “Manželství opavských Přemyslovců,” in Genealogické a heraldické informace 1998 (Brno: Genealogický a heraldický klub, 1999), pp. 38–47. On artistic production at the court of the Duke of Brzeg, see Alicja Karłowska-Kamzowa, Fundacje artystyczne księcia Ludvika I. Brzeskiego. Studia nad rozwojem świadomości historycznej na Śląsku XIV–XVIII w. (Opole: Państwowe Wydawn. Naukowe, 1970). We can again mention the case of Opava dukes in the mid-15th century. Symptoms of financial problems illuminated in the text sources became a harbinger of pressure applied by creditors on the one side and competitors for power on the other. Opole Duke Bolek or Czech King George of Poděbrady must have noticed such signs of weakness and basically pushed the Přemyslids out of their domains in several phases. Cf. Pavel Kouřil, Dalibor

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magnate to the public, but also by preserving an image of the magnate in the memories of future generations. The rich clothing that dukes were depicted wearing on their headstones transferred their legacy in a generally understandable way64 and not even Duke Louis of Brzeg, who requested a very humble funeral (accenting Christian virtues) in his will, mentioned his posthumous representation as a member of the dynasty. The headstone’s appearance was a matter for his descendants, exceeding his person and becoming part of dynastic representation. As in the case of personal jewels, there was a difference in Louis’s will between property (and prestige) that he could use and he created himself, and the family treasure (and splendour of the dynasty), which was infinitely more important. 4

The Aristocratic Culture of Small Courts

Besides social exceptionality strengthened by the accent placed on continuity and the tradition of ducal rule, aristocratic honour also played an important role for the Silesian magnates. Defined as generally accepted norms of behaviour, it was subject to contemporary transformations and most openly manifested itself in the dukes’ defence of their front seats at meetings of the Silesian diet. At the beginning of the 16th century, Vladislaus II of Hungary altered the make-up of the ducal curia, seating the bishop of Wrocław first, followed by the dukes, and then the so-called holders of free estates. Protecting ducal status included a much broader field of activity than just simple political action. Contacts between equals confronted both sides with meeting mutual expectations that if not fulfilled could lead to a loss of trust and gradual ostracising from the network of relations.65 Not upholding the required code of

64

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Prix and Martin Wihoda, Hrady českého Slezska (Brno/Opava: Archeologický ústav AV ČR, 1999). Headstones played a similar role to the family portrait galleries of the later period. Cf. Brigitte Streich, “Sepultus in Wymaria. Grablegen und begräbnisrituale der Kurfürsten und Herzöge von Sachsen,” in Mittelalterliche Fürstenhofe und Erinnerungskulturen, eds. Carola Fey, Steffen Krieb and Werner Rösener (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007), pp. 249–75. A discussion of the dress of late medieval Silesian dukes was purposely omitted as it would be too unrelated to the topic at hand. The use of headstones as a visual source was studied by Zdzisława Wawrzonowska, Uzbrojenie i ubiór rycerski Piastów śląskich od XII do XIV w. (Łódż: Zakład Narodowy im. Ossolińskich, 1976). For more see Kazimierz Orzechowski, Historia ustroju Śląska 1202–1740 (Wrocław: Wydawnictwo uniwersytetu wrocławskiego, 2005), p. 88. For the most recent discussion of honour and nobility, see Robert Novotný, “Čest a urozenost v mentalitě pozdně

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conduct was at the same time an attack on the dignity of the other party who then must object to any such lack of respect. A spark for these conflicts could even be a row over hanging family banners, which erupted between the Opava Přemyslids and the Habsburgs in 1399.66 An opportunity to show the required amount of respect was the common use of the form of address “Dear Uncle,” to open the text of documents between individual magnates, of meetings between ducal families, and invitations to aristocratic festivities such as tournaments, feasts, and hunts. When Louis I hosted dukes Vladislaus of Opole and Nicholas of Głubczyce at his court in Brzeg in 1390, the mediation of their conflict extended beyond sundown. Six years later, the dukes returned to the castle, probably on invitation from the lord of Brzeg, this time to elect a so-called elder to lead the ducal league.67 (figure 4.2)

Figure 4.2 A knight tournament from the Townhall in Wrocław

Ducal feasts did not attract the interest of the chroniclers to any great extent. However, we can expect an abundance of food and the excessive consumption of drink so criticised by the clerics of the day. According to the author of her legend, it was St. Hedwig, the patron of Silesia, who tried to avoid this vice. The duchess would exhaust her body with physical activity, refusing to wear shoes, warm clothing, and taking long fasts. She took part in courtly festivities

66 67

středověké šlechty,” in Tomáš Borovský, Dalibor Janiš and Michaela Malaníková et al., Spory o čest ve středověku a raném novověku (Brno: Matice Moravská, 2010), pp. 54–68. Eduard Marie Lichnowsky, Geschichte des Hauses Habsburg, vol. V. Vom Regierungsantritt Herzog Albrecht des Vierten bis zum Tode König Albrecht des Zweiten (Vienna: Schaumburg, 1841), p. XXXI, no. 318. Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX, p. 74, no. 524 and p. 81, no. 566.

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alongside her husband, but only drank spring water from her chalice instead of wine. When her husband discovered the ruse, the water was transformed into the finest wine when he tasted it. The miracle protected the saint from further complaints and allowed her to continue in her exemplary temperance. In a more developed German version of the legend from the mid-14th century, Henry I the Bearded chided Hedwig not only for violating her ducal status, but also for her habit of drinking water, which he considered one of the reasons for her weak condition and frequent illnesses.68 There is a question as to what extent wine, which protected the drinker from a number of infections and other illness spread through contaminated drinking water, was a daily drink in Silesia. It seems that beer and wine drinking were mixed, even at the highest levels of the ducal environment. According to the legend, St. Hedwig and her husband would have the best beer available to them, but she would refuse to consume it, sending it to the needy and beggars that surrounded her in great crowds. However, the aristocratic environment did not shun beer as such and courtiers (allegedly) were jealous of the poor, who thus received a higher-quality drink from the duchess then was reserved for them.69 Beer was also at the centre of an extensive conflict between the city of Wrocław and the bishopric and chapter at the beginning of the 1380s. The row was over beer import rights as Duke Ruprecht of Legnica sent his brother – Wrocław Bishop Wenceslas – a cart loaded with the best lager from Świdnica as a New Year’s gift, but the city council had it confiscated and the cart drivers imprisoned. The chapter then issued an interdict against the city and later Wenceslas IV himself had to intercede.70 The ducal table was only scrutinized in detail with the editions of the accounts of Sigismund I, Duke of Głogów and Opava. The Polish duke and soon-to-be king maintained a court worthy of his royal blood, including several cooks that would prepare selected delicacies, sometimes supplied by church institutions, for the food-loving Jagiellonian and his closest courtiers. What is important for our interest is that other dukes sat at the table with Sigismund, especially dukes Frederick II of Legnica and Bartholomew of Ziębice. Thanks to their political activities, we can expect them to have discussed important political matters over baked eels and stuffed quail washed down with Hungarian wine.71 (figure 4.3) 68 69 70 71

Legenda o św. Jadwidze (Legende der hl. Hedwig), eds. Trude Ehlert, Wojciech Mrozowicz and Jerzy Łukosz (Wrocław: Wydaw. Dolnośląskie, 2000), p. 77. Legenda o św. Jadwidze, p. 142. The so-called “beer war” is covered in detail by Wacław Korta et al., Świdnica. Zarys monografii miasta (Wrocław/Świdnica: DTSK Silesia, 1995), p. 72. For more on Sigismund’s court see Kozák, “Citharedo,” pp. 223–39.

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Figure 4.3 A man with a wine goblet located above Świdnica tavern in Wrocław

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Chivalric tournaments documented to have taken place in Silesia as early as the 13th century also helped to strengthen social ties. A tournament held in 1284 in Nysa by the Wrocław Duke Henry IV Probus was a personal revenge against Bishop Thomas II, who considered the city and its surroundings part of his own domain. Besides demonstratively re-establishing control over the city, the duke financed the tournament using proceeds from the bishop’s estates. In the 14th century, the tournament became a regular part of life during which men were knighted and in exceptional cases there were fatal injuries to participants. The 1390s alone saw the deaths of the sons of Wenceslas I of Legnica and Henry VIII the Faithful in quick succession.72 The spread of examples of chivalric courtly culture was one of the most significant characteristics of a changing Silesian society in the High Middle Ages. The dukes and their courtiers quickly adopted elements of behaviour that opened the door to the imperial aristocracy and careers in the surrounding monarchic courts. The Codex Manesse from the 1320s describes the difference between the Imperial elite and Silesian duke Henry with his characteristic black eagle with a silver perisonium in a gold field, and it was not the only document of its kind. The famous herald Claes Heinenzoon created a coat of arms called Gelre, where he included the coats of arms of the dukes of Brzeg, Legnica, Ziębice, Oleśnica, Opole, Opava, and Świdnica as well as other members of the Silesian nobility. Louis II of Brzeg and Legnica listed as “le duc de Brich” was depicted in tournament garb in a large collection of coats of arms the Order of the Golden Fleece compiled sometime around 1435/1436 at the Burgundian court. Alfonso V of Aragon granted Duke Wenceslas II of Opava the Order of the Jar named according to the characteristic link to a chain that held a figure of a griffon; the mythical beast that was half lion, half bird of prey. The granting of membership also bestowed the power to expand the order and grant membership on further travels to five other noble men and women, who could then invite one other noble individual. The order’s symbol was a broad white sash. Thanks to Pero Tafur, a Spanish visitor to a tournament held in Wrocław by King Albert II in 1438, we know the ceremonies associated with bestowing this order had arrived among the Silesian dukes. In his report, Pero Tafur did not fail to stress that the members of the Wrocław aristocracy that were part of the order not only welcomed him warmly but would provide him with escorts to his rented lodgings after balls and feasts.73 72 73

For more see Bogdan W. Brzustowicz, Turniej rycerski w królewstwie polskim w późnym średniowieczu i renesansie na tle europejskim (Warsaw: DiG, 2003), pp. 204–8. For more see Milada Studničková, “Hoforden der Luxemburger,” Umění 40 (1992), pp. 320–8. Werner Paravicini, “Von Schlesien nach Frankreich, England, Spanien und

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The Silesian dukes did not have to travel to far-flung lands to become members of chivalric orders, which were a phenomenon of late chivalric-courtly culture, especially after the Silesian magnates formed their own in 1413.74 Thanks to the survival of the statutes of the Gesellschaft des Rodinbads published by the German historian Hermann Margraf just before the start of the 20th century, we have a rather clear idea about the formal obligations of individual orders. The founding document was issued on August 7, 1413 by the Wrocław Bishop Wenceslas of Legnica together with dukes Louis II of Brzeg, Přemek I of Opava, Conrad III the Older, Conrad IV, and Jan II the Mad. They obligate themselves to gather for the order’s first meeting on the first Sunday after the Feast of St. Martin, which was on November 12. During the intervening months, the dukes were obligated to affix their seal beneath the founding document and confirm their membership in the association (along with the selected noblemen) into the hands of the Legnica councilmen. This act entitled them to continue to wear their common badge and participate in annual gatherings associated with chivalric tournaments held alternatively in Legnica and Görlitz. Legnica Castle could have served as a base in the former case, as it was among the most well-appointed ducal residencies in Silesia. The upper floor of the western tower also contained the so-called green chamber, which was decorated with motifs of flowers and nine knights. The members of the group did have a certain freedom of action and the place of meeting could have been moved to another city after consultation with the elected elder. Meetings of the Rundenband took place from Sunday to Wednesday. The group would gather on Sunday during matins, followed by a choral mass with prayers for the souls of the dead. The agenda for the following days was filled with

74

zurück. Über die Ausbreitung adliger Kultur im späten Mittelalter,” in Adel in Schlesien, vol. I. Herrschaft – Kultur – Selbstdarstellung, eds. Jan Harasimowicz and Matthias Weber (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2010), pp. 135–206; Johannes Vincke, “Zu den Anfängen der deutsch–spanischen Kultur– und Wirtschaftsbeziehungen,” Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Kulturgeschichte Spaniens 14 (1959), p. 180, no. 82. On the Order of the “konve” see Bohumil Baďura, “Styky mezi českým královstvím a Španělskem ve středověku,” Táborský archiv 7 (1995–1996), pp. 5–87. For more on chivalric journeys by the Opava Přemyslids, see Čapský, Vévoda Přemek, pp. 184–200. A testimony about the culture of Albert II’s court was provided by Joseph Gottschalk, “Der Bericht des Spaniers Pero Tafur über den langen Aufenthalt des Königs Albrecht II. in Wrocław 1438/1439,” Schlesische Vierteljahrschrift 27 (1976), pp. 77–92. On the Order of the Dragon in the context of chivalric brotherhoods, see Ritterorden und Adelsgesellschaften im Spätmittelalterlichen Deutschland, eds. Holger Kruse, Werner Paravicini and Andreas Ranft (Frankfurt am Main/Bern/New York/Paris: Lang, 1991), pp. 230–47 and Sigismundus rex et imperator. Kunst und Kultur zur Zeit Sigismunds von Luxemburg 1387–1437, ed. Imre Takácz (Budapest/Luxembourg: Philipp von Zabern, 2006), pp. 251–63.

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tournaments, feasts, and ceremonies associated with accepting and installing new members.75 Chivalric groups were not a solely male phenomenon, but accepting girls and women was regulated by stricter rules than was the case for men. The nobility of candidates was stressed, but their instalment could only take place at the annual meeting. A duke that violated this order and the statutes on this point was obligated to pay 50 three-score groschen into the joint treasury. The stratified social hierarchy was also reflected in the fine for the same violation paid by lesser nobles, who were penalised just 20 three-score groschen. Both guilty parties would lose the right to wear the order’s symbol, as they would have had they behaved in a way that violated aristocratic honour. Even in this moral category, the social exceptionalism of the Rundenband was clear as a loss of honour was associated with actively taking part in commercial transactions, which meant crossing the line between the world of the nobility and that of merchants. This point may have been an attempt to separate the noble-born from the wealthy members of the patrician class (especially in Wrocław) that was buying property.76 The wearing of the order’s badge was also governed by regulations. A member who failed to wear it in public paid a fine of 6 groschen and any witness that would fail to point out the deficiency would pay double that. The order was not, however, dependent on the income from fines. Most of its funding came from annual fees. Wrocław Bishop Wenceslas of Legnica contributed to creating mass foundations in the Legnica chapter church of the Holy Sepulchre with 12 three-score groschen, while the remaining five founding dukes added 6 three-score groschen each. Nobles paid 1 three-score to purchase an annual salary.77 A member’s other obligations included participation at tournaments and the timely announcement of their taking place. Anyone who wanted to participate in the tournament the following year was obligated to express this 75 76 77

Hermann Markgraf, “Über eine schlesische Rittergesellschaft am Anfange des 15. Jahrhunderts,” in Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte Schlesiens und Wrocławs (Wrocław: Morgenstern, 1915), pp. 92–5. See Markgraf, “Über eine schlesische Rittergeselschaft,” pp. 92–5. The most recent discussion is in Ritterorden und Adelsgesellschaften, pp. 250–255. On Legnica as the meeting place see Brzustowicz, Turniej rycerski, pp. 207–9. Margrave John of Brandenburg–Kulmback called the Alchemist, the brother-in-law of Henry II of Brzeg and Legnica, was also accepted as member of the group and in 1420 he promised to give 1 three-score groschen to the Marian church named by the highest ranked representative of the chivalric order. The new members from Swabia, Bavaria, and Frankia who received their order badge from him were to support the construction of a Marian church in Langenzehnn southwest of Nuremburg in Frankia. Cf. Markgraf, “Über eine schlesische Rittergeselschaft,” p. 93.

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intent at the annual meeting in Legnica or Görlitz and thus give the others a chance to join his expedition.78 The founding of a chivalric order was in general a characteristic acceptance of late medieval cultural models. The immediate impulse that led to the founding of the Rundenband cannot be clearly identified. In 1412, a number of Silesian dukes took part in a tournament in Buda held by Sigismund of Luxembourg with the Polish king in attendance to mark an agreement with the Polish royal court. The list of participants included dukes Louis II of Brzeg, John I of Ziębice, John of Ratibor, Boleslaw I of Cieszyn, and the Duke of Opava. Although their enchantment with the Buda court and the manifest majesty of the two rulers could be interpreted as the impetus, the lists of Buda tournament participants and those who took part in the first meeting of the order in Legnica are not completely identical.79 Hermann Margraf preferred to consider the group’s political mission. Bishop Wenceslas of Legnica at the time was facing the question the future of his own family’s duchy and the bishop himself planned to assure its problem-free transfer to his nephew Louis II of Brzeg. In 1411, he acquired the approval of the Bohemian king for this intention and Louis launched his public life associated with Legnica when he began using the title governor. The interests of the Duke of Brzeg were attacked by his older brother Henry, residing in Chojna and Oława, sparking a border war between the two siblings. It is possible this is why the first statute of the chivalric order was an obligation that its members are bound to help each other against all except the Bohemian king. Not even this explanation can be considered definite, however.80 Historians have also been attracted to the pyramid-like structure of the chivalric brotherhood. Each of the dukes had a defined subordinate territorial unit where he was to help achieve peaceful resolutions to conflicts between individual signatories of the group’s rules. The hierarchic axis of the chivalric 78

79 80

Cf. Markgraf, “Über eine schlesische Rittergeselschaft,” p. 93. On the function of tournaments as a method of maintaining prestige in the late medieval noble environment see also Werner Meyer, “Turniergesellschaften. Bemerkungen zur sozialgeschichtlichen Bedeutung der Turniere im Spätmittelalter,” in Das ritterliche Turnier im Mittelalter. Beiträge zu einer vergleichenden Formen– und Verhaltensgeschichte des Rittertums, ed. Josef Fleckenstein (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1985), pp. 500–12. The list and the document were provided by the catalogue to the exhibition Sigismundus rex, pp. 454–5. Markgraf, “Über eine schlesische Rittergeselschaft,” p. 91. The document confirming the transfer of the Duchy of Legnica to Louis II of Brzeg was issued by Wenceslas IV in Prague on November 30, 1411. Cf. Urkunden-Buch der Stadt Liegnitz und ihres Weichbildes bis zum Jahre 1455, ed. Friedrich Wilhelm Schirrmacher (Liegnitz: Krumbhaar, 1866), pp. 290–1, no. 214.

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brotherhood was confirmed by the words of John, Margrave of Brandenburg, who presented himself as the “governor of three lands” – Bavaria, Frankia, and Swabia – and his brother-in-law Duke Louis II of Brzeg and Legnica, who at the time led the group and whom he addressed “king.” When the group was founded, the 6 dukes were accompanied by 24 elder nobles representing individual branches of the territorial group. Gradually, there were four representatives each from the Bohemian lands (in this case the text of the copy was damaged and only two names survive), the Duchy of Legnica, the combined Duchies of Wrocław, Brzeg, and Świdnica, four named who represented Görlitz and Bautzen, a damaged list was preserved of those who represented Żagań and, Głogów and the final names were from the Duchy of Oleśnica.81 As a result of the above-described organizational structure, we can assume that four elders always acted as the leaders of the other members from the listed lands and were subordinate to one of the dukes. They resolved any conflicts that arose, and the parties involved had the opportunity to present their appeals to the listed Piast and Přemyslid dukes.82 Besides chivalric tournaments, feasts, and balls, dukes also had the chance to get to know one another during hunts, which were also associated with the opportunity to present oneself in the role of a magnate (holding rights), knight (skill in using a weapon and horse), and as a generous host. Participation in hunts for would continue to gradually be less a replacement for military activity and more a sort of courtly entertainment for high medieval aristocratic society. The hunt represented an opportunity to actively demonstrate participation in chivalric-courtly culture with its gradually evolving socially distinctive symbols. The hunt was also an opportunity to present hunting apparel that mixed practical functionality with high cost and functional singularity. A diversified wardrobe modelled on the example of one activity = one outfit, which naturally stressed aristocratic exceptionalism, was made even more exceptional by collections of special weapons, jewels, and badges.83 Confrontations between man and animal were also an opportunity to demonstrate physical strength, 81 82 83

Markgraf, “Über eine schlesische Rittergeselschaft,” pp. 94–5. On the attempt to set the geographic spaces each duke was responsible for, see Čapský, Vévoda Přemek, pp. 198–9. On the representative role of the hunt in the courtly environment, see Birgit Franke, “Jagd und landesherrlichen Domäne. Bilder und höfischen Repräsentation in Spätmittelalter und Früher Neuzeit,” in Die Jagd der Eliten in der Erinnerungskulturen von der Antike bis in die Frühe Neuzeit (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000), pp. 189–220; Sigrid Schwenk, “Die Jagd im Spiegel mittelalterlicher Literatur und Jagbücher,” in Jagd und höfische Kultur, ed. Werner Rösener (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1997), pp. 405– 464; Helmut Brackert, “‘deist rehtiu jegerîe.’Höfische Jagdarstellungen in der deutschen Epik des Hochmittelalters,” in Jagd und höfische Kultur, pp. 365–406 and in the context of

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skill, and adoption of practical experience that were more or less transferred orally in an aristocratic education. This is why the aristocratic environment could maintain its advantages over of the rest of society over the long term in this area. Hunting motifs from the ancient world to contemporary hunting scenes created one of the significant legitimising mechanisms of the nobility as a social layer. An important role was played by manuals that stressed the exceptionalism of falconry and deer hunts. It is also noteworthy that many of the authors of such books were often members of the nobility themselves,84 including individuals from Silesia as well. There was an unpublished text from the second half of the 14th century by an unspecified Hertzog Bolche von polant, who we can probably guess was one of the Opole Piasts or Bolko II the Small, Duke of Świdnica, the father-in-law of Emperor Charles IV.85 Besides the high aristocracy, the authors of hunting manuals were a diverse mix of socially differentiated expert hunters and others from courtly circles. Eberhart Hicfeldt, who was probably one of King Ladislaus Posthumous’s falconers, was one of the latter. He came from Silesia and wrote his German-language manuals at some point in the second half of the 15th century.86 Many sources differentiate between several types of ducal hunts. During the 12th and 13th centuries, Western Europe saw the popularity of precisely organized hunts increase. Their external characteristic became a consistent set of signals of blowing horns whose monotone sound forced the creation of a range of short and long blasts that those organizing the hunt and the hunters themselves used to communicate with one another. This sound and the barking of dog packs formed the background of scenes of hunts or returns from hunts portrayed as everyday events in chivalric novels. Hunts called “venationes clamorose” or “venationes cum magna tuba” demanded the existence of a welltrained and coordinated courtly hunting apparatus. Contemporary manuals stated that hunters needed to be able to recognise the bark of individual dogs and had to maintain a sufficient number of rested animals whose training began when they were still puppies.87 The training itself was thus demanding

84 85

86 87

Silesian ducal courts see Martin Čapský, “Lov a jeho role na dvorech slezských knížat,” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku, vol. III., pp. 207–22. Among the most famous authors were Frederick II of Sicily and Gaston Phoebus, Count of Foix. Cf. Johannes Fried, “Kaiser Fridrich II. als Jäger,” in Jagd und höfische Kultur, pp. 149–66, and Nejedlý, Fortuny kolo vrtkavé, pp. 166–94. The existence of the text was pointed out by Martin Giese, “Graue Teorie und grünes Weidwerk? Die mittelalterliche Jagd zwischen Buchwissen und Praxis,” Archiv für Kulturgeschichte 89/1 (2007), pp. 19–59, esp. p. 35. On the legitimising role of hunting scenes in the decoration of noble residences, see Franke, Jagd, p. 191. For more see Giese, “Graue Teorie,” p. 39. About hunting training and education see Schwenk, “Die Jagd im Spiegel,” pp. 419–24.

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in terms of time and the experience demanded of dog handlers because the procedures had to be repeated many times. This raised the question of what to do with the dogs in periods between magnate visits. Cooperation between dog packs and riders on horseback was maintained by other members of the court, including clerics as documented by the Cistercian privileges in Jemielnica in Upper Silesia, who in 1361 acquired the right to hunt “cum magna tuba.”88 Because of the special relationship between Cistercian monasteries, it can be expected that the Cistercians only used (and probably to a significant extent supported) ducal hunters and received the privileges in return.89 Other surviving sources also include mentions of hunting dogs, as well as falconers. It was the latter that played the role of a distinctive activity only available to aristocrats, while burghers were also known to take part in hunts with dogs according to magnate privileges. A number of local documents from the 13th century include the transfer of wild animal hunting rights in areas surrounding cities, which were usually specified below to mean hares and in exceptional cases deer or foxes.90 Deer hunts in courtly environments, including according to imperial manuals, could have been enlivened with a hunt on foot or using birds of prey as indirectly suggested by Duke Nicholas II of Opava’s document from 1337. The duke sold the village of Suchapsina, which was held by the rights of Hlubčice but located in the Duchy of Opava to the Ratibor Dominican nuns for 300 grzywna with all rights including hunting (“Jagdhaber”) with the exception of the wood near the village and the local wetlands and their hunting rights, which the duke kept for himself. The duke’s decision was probably influenced by his love of falconry and the presence of water fowl provided a favourite target for the trained avian hunters.91 Late medieval Silesian magnates very consistently fulfilled expectations by opulently presenting their wealth and power. Estimates that hunts had no significant place in the magnate economy can also help us to this conclusion. They were instead a part of a complex mix of rights and obligations summarised in 88 89 90

91

Cf. Agnieszka Samsonowicz, “Łowy władców – łowy poddanych,” in Łowiectwo w tradycji i kulturze (Pułtusk: Łowiec Polski, 1994), pp. 60–8, and Samsonowicz, Łowiectwo w Polsce Piastów i Jagiellonów (Wrocław: Warszawska Firma Wydawnicza, 1991), p. 179. Cistercian monasteries and other ecclesiastic institutions often served as a base for the ducal hunting apparatus. See Martin Čapský, “Lov a jeho role.” Wild animals were among the first elements of the binary opposition of wild vs domestic. Similar freedoms were granted to the new town Trachenberg in 1253 by Duke Henry III.: “… et venandi lepores cum canibus ad hec aptos.” See Schlesisches Urkundenbuch, vol. III, ed. Winfred Irgang (Cologne: Böhlau, 1984), pp. 354–6, no. 565. Burghers could also receive approval to use blinds. Regesten zur Geschichte des Herzogthums Troppau, ed. Franz Kopetzky (Vienna: Carl Gerold’s Sohn, 1871), p. 69, no. 251.

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the expression “schutz und schirm,” or the legitimate use of weapons. The right to hunt was also the obligation (!) to hunt. Just as the nobleman was obligated to protect subjects from the enemies of peace, he was also obligated to face marauding animals with a weapon in hand. Moreover, subjects were obligated to help their lord with the hunt by finding personnel, horses, dogs, funding, etc. It is this spirit that we must use to approach other types of aristocratic “festivities” that helped to build and maintain the splendour of the ducal house and to supplement the individual’s and the family’s social relations within aristocratic society.92 5

Dukes and the Cycle of Life

The image of the duke on a hunt, surrounded by hunters, falconers, grooms, and other members of the hunting party also evokes the matter of relations between the magnate and his servants. A relationship based on a necessary measure of trust was reflected in the last will of Louis I of Brzeg, who bequeathed horses and monetary salaries to grooms from his stables.93 The Duke of Brzeg gave rise to another testament in 1396 that set down rites for funeral ceremonies. A declared limited pompa funebris also plays witness to elements normal for the time that accompanied Silesian magnates on their last journey. According to Louis’s decision, his body was not to put into a coffin, but only laid on a course wooden plank and thus lowered into the grave. The body was not to be adorned in ducal clothing and jewels, but covered in a clean shroud and bathing gown, thus willingly rejecting a spectacularly lavish funeral procession. The duke swore his paternal love for his sons and begged them not to hire professional mourners to memorialize him, nor should the duke’s horses and banners appear. And he again appealed that they fulfil his last will.94 It was often the end of a life that attracted the attention of narrative sources. Our short survey of festivities accompanying the circle of life will thus paradoxically begin with its end. The surviving sources pay exceptional attention to the placement of the body into the grave. Chroniclers are also interested in the death itself but are less likely to mention the magnate’s last resting place 92

93 94

On hunting as an obligation, see Hans Wilhelm Eckhardt, Herrschaftliche Jagd, bäuerliche Not und bürgerliche Kritik (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1976), p. 30. The deportment of the aristocracy-led economy of social behavior was studied in-depth by Petr Maťa, Svět české aristokracie (1500–1700) (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové Noviny, 2004). Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX, pp. 246–7, no. 33. Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX, pp. 253–5, no. 36.

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and say even less about funeral ceremonies. There is surprisingly little to learn about processions from residences and reports about stops at selected monasteries are also few and far between. The Legnica Chronicle recalls the death of Duke Ruprecht with a short report about his leaving the world of the living and that his and his wife’s graves are in the small chancel of the Legnica chapter church. Louis II of Brzeg died in the baths and was buried in the Carthusian monastery he himself founded. Duke John of Lubin died while en route to Wrocław and his mother decided he would be buried in Oława. Frederick of Legnica, who was given more space in the ducal chronicle, died after a long illness and was buried in the above-mentioned Carthusian monastery. The list of such examples is extensive.95 The selection of a burial site was determined by familial traditions, the contemporary popularity of individual ecclesiastic orders, and situational necessities associated with the division of lands, but also the personal decisions of individuals. Duke William of Opava had himself buried in the newly-built chapel of the Opava parish church because the local minorites who cared for the Přemyslid tomb refused to adopt stricter regulations. The duke, with the help of burghers, helped fund a new Franciscan monastery and his body ended up in the new chapel outside the Minorites’ area of activity, violating a near century-long tradition.96 Except for exceptional cases like the funeral of the Vladislaus, son of the duke of Cieszyn in Pisa, who died during Charles IV’s trip to Rome, there are several clear phases in the building of crypts by the dukes of Silesia. Contrary to the oldest period associated with the popularity of the rural Benedictine and Cistercian orders, the branching lines of Silesian ducal families became enthralled with urban orders like the Minorites and Dominicans. Their dominance was violated only during the 14th century by members of the contemplative orders and chapters. Newly-founded Franciscan monasteries became popular in the 15th century and there are individual cases of 95

96

For more on the death of a duke, see Liegnitzer Chronik, srs XII, pp. 95–106. The Ratibor Chronicle provides a more concise record, listing only the date of a duke’s death. Cf. Ratiborer Chronik, ed. August Weltzel, Zeitschrift des Vereins fïr Geschichte und Althertum Schlesiens 3 (1860), pp. 114–26. On narrative sources on the Moravian–Silesian border, see Martin Čapský, “Marné hledání paměti. Opavští Přemyslovci ve stínu nezájmu nejstaršího dějepisectví moravsko–slezského pomezí,” ČMM 123 (2004), pp. 431–41. See Martin Čapský, “Příchod františkánů–observantů do Opavy a jeho odraz v městském prostředí,” in Wkład kościołów i zakonu franciszkanów w kulturę Katowic, ed. Antoni Barciak (Katowice: Societas Scientiis Favendis Silesiae Superioris, 2003), pp. 273–82. The symbolic role of magnate crypts was described by Thomas Meier, “Königs– und Kaiserbegräbnisse im Spätmittelalter. Anmerkungen zu einer verpaßten Chance,” Zeitschrift für historische Forschung 29 (2002), pp. 323–38.

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placing tombs in urban parish churches or close to them.97 This rough sketch shows that even in the relatively small duchies that Silesia disintegrated into during the 14th century, the magnates did not hesitate to invest into costly construction projects associated with the creation of a new tomb. This raises the question: what were their expectations for their own funerals? Although besides the expressed desires of Louis I of Brzeg we do not have another complete set of orders, we can lean on other fragments to help us reconstruct the resulting picture. I will leave the architectural style of the crypts aside and focus on the elements associated with the funeral procession and the presentation of the body of the deceased magnate. The Duke of Brzeg already mentioned that the deceased’s weapons were regularly displayed among the mourners and the duke’s favourite horses were led by their bridles – recalling the magnate as a guardian of justice and a knight – and the weapons sometimes found further use as generally understood and visualised attributes. The sword could be broken and placed on the coffin as a symbol of the last male heir of a dynasty as was the case in 1521 after the death of Duke Valentin Hunchbacked of Ratibor. The liturgical program accompanying the funeral was in the hands of the clerics and their number and make-up was determined by the situation. After the death of Duke Wenceslas of the Żagań Piasts, who had moved to Wrocław after the sale of inherited property, the bishop, prelates, canons, vicars, plebeians and lay clergy, abbots, all the brothers of the Knights of the Cross, and scholars from the Wrocław schools all took part in the funereal ceremonies, along with the burghers omitted by the chronicler. The duke was buried in the Franciscan monastery of St. Barbara behind the city walls in 1488.98 Funereal ceremonies were not always without event. Difficulties appeared especially when the duke came into conflict with the church during his lifetime. Local church representatives then had to choose between obedience to their superiors and loyalty to the founders, who also represented armed martial power. The Abbot of the Żagań monastery that held the crypt of the 97

98

For more on ducal crypts, see Czechowicz, Książęcy mecenat, pp. 601–10 and Kazimierz Jasiński, “Franciszkańskie pochówki Piastów,” in Zakony franciszkańskie w Polsce, vol. I/2,3, ed. Jerzy Kłoczowski (Cracow: Wydawnictwo Ojców Franciszkanów, 1989), pp. 177– 95 and Kazimierz Jasiński, “Dominikańskie pochówki Piastów,” in Dominikanie w środkowej Europie w XIII–XIV wieku. Aktywność duszpasterska i kultura intelektualna, eds. Jerzy Kłoczowski and Jan Andrzej Spieża (Poznań: W drodze, 2002), pp. 219–37. Catalogus abbatum Saganensium, srs I, ed. Gustav Adolf Stenzel (Wrocław: Josef Max und Komp, 1835), p. 365 and Annales Glogovienses bis z. J. 1493, srs X, ed. Hermann Markgraf (Wrocław: Josef Max und Komp, 1877), p. 10. For more on the end of the Přemyslid dynasty, see Martin Čapský, “Zlomený meč Valentina Hrbatého – poslední z opavských Přemyslovců,” Dějiny a současnost 28/2 (2006), pp. 36–8.

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Duchy of Głogów thus chose his words carefully even years later in order to avoid displeasing either side. Nevertheless, he had to admit that Henry VIII the Sparrow used monastery property to solve his financial problems and was then excommunicated by the Wrocław bishop. The duke’s trial was prolonged, and the final verdict was announced only after Henry’s death in Szprotawa in 1397. He was buried in the family crypt in the Augustinian canon church in Żagań. In the developing situation, the abbot at the time was forced to react and had the ducal crypt opened and the coffin with the deceased’s remains removed on orders from the bishop. This unfortunate state lasted more than eight days and only after that were petitioners able to break the bishop’s resistance and acquire his approval for a regular burial for the duke. The last scene of the morbid events surrounding the duke’s body were again directed by the Żagań abbot, who after the recital of the required psalms and singing of hymns removed the excommunication of the Duke of Głogów on authority of the Gniezno archbishop. The return of Henry among the faithful opened the door to a new funeral, this time without the ceremony of leaving the canon church.99 None of Henry’s brothers were able to avoid trouble with the Church. The crux of the problem was the dukes’ extreme understanding of magnate rights. The oldest of the Henrys (Henry VI) was able to reconcile with the abbey, but Henry VII Rumpold again died outside the community of the church in 1393. The large, sickness-addled man found his last resting place in the family crypt. The Żagań community of canons was placed in front of the Gniezno archbishop’s court to face the consequences of their decision. In this case, however, neither the peace in the lower Silesian town nor the lasting rest of the deceased were disturbed, and the abbot was able to convince the court that the reasons for excommunication were insufficient.100 Posthumous bequeaths and last wills often included donations in the form of expensive gold brocade cloths or other expensive materials to make a parament. Pupils who sang the liturgical choral were also rewarded. Part of the procession accompanying the duke or duchess on their last journey was usually dressed in black cloth and velvet and funereal decorations also adorned the streets through which the magnate’s body travelled.101 After the death of the last Wrocław Piast, Henry VI, the city spent 15 grzywna of groschen102 on 99 100 101 102

Catalogus abbatum, pp. 239–41 and Kapłon, Głogów, pp. 103–5. Catalogus abbatum, pp. 239–41. Catalogus abbatum, p. 304. Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. III. Henricus Pauper. Rechnungen der Stadt Wrocław von 1299–1358, nebst zwei Rationarien von 1386 und 1387, dem Liber imperatoris vom Jahre 1377 und den ältesten Wrocławer Statuten, ed. Colmar Grünhagen (Wrocław: J. Max & Komp., 1860), p. 62: “Item pro sepultura domici ducis 15 marcis.”

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the crypt and funeral ceremony, but decoration of the final resting place did not stop with the funeral and the creation of a headstone. The heirs of the duke hung his shield with the family coat of arms, a banner, and sometimes a plaque commemorating the magnate’s famous acts including his foundations on the wall of the funeral chapel. In 1496, the Duchess of Brzeg gifted the local chapter two blankets that were to cover the grave of her son John. There was a red cloth blanket for regular days while the canons used a second yellow velvet blanket for holidays.103 The will of Louis I of Brzeg is an important source because it demands the violation of traditions: the model in the memory of generations of ducal courtiers that was updated with every lordly funeral in the surrounding ducal courts. Its orders could have been inspired by the magnificence that accompanied Charles IV and his successors on their last journeys or the ceremonies that took place at Wawel Castle in Cracow. The funeral of George I of Brzeg in 1521 also deviated from the norm, according to written records. George I died around 6 pm on August 18, and his body began to decompose quickly in the summer heat and give off an odour. As the deceased’s older brother Frederick II of Legnica took his time with his arrival, servants placed the body into the ducal crypt without ceremony, according to the records of the city scribe. This undoubtedly was not an actual funeral, but only an attempt to put the remains in a relatively cool place until the Duke of Legnica arrived. After his arrival on Thursday, September 3, preparations culminated with a regular funeral the following day. The body, placed on a bier and covered with a shroud, was thus displayed in “all” churches and in the end rested in the crypt after a traditional church funeral.104 The order of the funeral of George I of Brzeg documents the basic phase of Silesian ducal funereal ceremonies that were later accepted by ducal courts that leaned towards Protestantism.105 After the body was displayed, there was a procession accompanied by a group dressed in funereal colours, and then 103 Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX, p. 162, no. 1133. On the decoration of Henryk IV Probus’s funeral chapel, see Edmund Małachowicz, Wrocławski zamek książęcy i kolegiata św. Krzyża na Ostrowie (Wrocław: Politechnika Wrocławska, 1993), p. 159. 104 Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX, p. 184, no. 1306. 105 In the 17th century, the dukes of Brzeg and Oleśnica acted similarly in funeral ceremonies. The body was first publicly displayed and later travelled in a funeral procession through the main churches of the city of residence. The procession would display the attributes of the duke–knight, such as the ducal mitre, helmet, shield, weapons, armour, and horses. The cart carrying the coffin was draped in black and white cloth and was accompanied by a hierarchically ordered procession. Mourners placed banners, weapons, and written tablets in the funeral chapel. Everything was of course accompanied by the singing of songs, funeral liturgy, and an accent on the funeral sermon. Cf. Jan Harasimowicz, “‘Ars

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the body was placed into the grave. A key role was played by George’s designated heir, who in reference to the death of his brother took up the role of future ruler. The ceremony could not begin without his presence, regardless of the necessity of the moment. Funereal ceremonies were thus a prologue to the ascension of a new magnate that was quickly followed by oaths to the territory’s community and a general confirmation of the vasal relationship to the Bohemian king. Continuing the intentions of his predecessor, fulfilling last wishes, completing any prepared foundations, making declarations to repay debts, or continuing preparations for an anti-Turkish campaign (in the given case) helped reduce uncertainty and necessary tension associated with the ascension of a new ruler. The death of a magnate and subsequent funeral ceremony thus became one of the key moments associated with the lives of Silesian dukes from the point of view of the community. Regardless of the brevity of the above-discussed written records, this was the act the contemporary reporters gave the most attention. Weddings or births of heirs were events associated more with expressing “respect” with a gift “pro honore” in the form of several casks of good-quality wine and a contribution to the feasts that moved from the duke’s tables into the streets of the city.106 Wedding ceremonies received more space in chronicles only when they acted as a backdrop for highly political acts. In January of 1488, Jan II the Mad attempted to use the weddings of his three daughters to the Ziębice grandsons of George of Poděbrady to eliminate the claim on his lands by King Matthias Corvinus. When he called on the noblemen and representatives of cities present to swear loyalty to the newly-married couples during the festivities that lasted into the night, the chronicler notes that the generally very festive mood immediately cooled despite the party extending into its second day. During the first, arrived the invited guests including Henry I, Duke of Ziębice-Oels, his sons, and others from the Bohemian lands, including the lord of Rožmberk. The wedding parties, which had more than 150 horses, arrived after noon and the provost of Głogów celebrated the weddings at approximately 3 pm, which continued the next day with a choral mass where two vicars ministered for the canon. The centre of festivities was the Głogów residence of the Piast dukes moriendi’ i ‘pompa funebris’ na Śląsku w dobie reformacji,” Śląski Kwartalnik Historyczny Sobótka 56 (1990), pp. 185–209. 106 In 1516, the councillors of Brzeg and the city scribe were invited over three days to the wedding. For more see Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX., p. 1277. The characteristics of individual phases of the funeral ceremony following the example from the imperial environment was described by Lothar Kolmer, “Einleitung,” in Der Tod des Mächtigen. Kult und Kultur des Todes spätmmittelalterlicher Herrscher, ed. Lothar Kolmer (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 1997), pp. 9–26.

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where the leaders of the community gathered as well. When the duke was unable to break the resistance of his subjects out of fear of Corvinus’s reprisals, they began to slowly depart after several days. The first to leave Głogów Castle was Henry I, followed by Rožmberk. Jan was only able to coax a conditional promise from the burghers that they will follow the nobles in their choice between Corvinus and the Ziębices. Their fears were justified as the duke loaded up his family and treasure less than a month later and had them taken to safer residence in Świebodzinie. The extensive stir the decision caused only documents how the ducal wedding, which under normal circumstances becomes a unifying symbol between a dynasty and its subjects, failed to meet the expectations the duke placed into it and his relations with the larger community remained damaged.107 6

Dukes and Their Territory

In 1501, the duchy of Opava came into royal hands and Vladislaus II of Hungary (as a Bohemian king) charged Casimir II of Cieszyn with representing him as duke. The community of the territory accepted the king’s decision with great difficulty and expressed its displeasure in indignant complaints that pointed out the governor’s frequent absences and the growing number of injustices committed against orphans and other inhabitants.108 Ducal bureaucrats in their concise description captured the role the dynasty played in relation to their subjects (they were the guarantors of justice) and certain archaic elements of the Silesian political space that to a great extant functioned on the basis of frequent contact between the magnate and the community. This sort of communication model between magnates and the territory was also supported by the splintering of ducal lines, which evened out the hierarchical gap between the dukes and their subjects. One of the Głubczyce chroniclers from the 16th century could not resist characterising the earlier period that almost every larger city had its own magnate.109 However, the outset of the 16th century saw this statement begin to distance itself from reality. Some families were left without a male heir, while others agreed to confirm mutual inheritances. The number of players on the proverbial chess board was thus radically reduced. The new age meant that even some archaic elements of ducal 107 Annales Glogovienses, srs X, pp. 51–2. 108 ms Opava, Zemský archiv v Opavě, Hejtmanství opavsko– krnovské, inv. no. 41. 109 ms Prague, Knihovna Národního muzea, fond: Nostická knihovna, Annales oppidi Leobschyzensis, sign. d 12.

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administration passed into history and became more bureaucratised along the lines of the example set by royal offices.110 The rise of new dynasties brought new questions about the continuity of the heretofore model of rule, personnel in courtly circles, and to what extent new legal systems penetrated the environment. Communities carefully monitored adherence to entrenched rituals of power and tried to adapt them to their own designs depending on their own level of influence. After the death of George of Poděbrady and the division of his domains, Viktorin of Poděbrady came before the Opava nobility and representatives of cities and called to “Our Lord God, Mother of God, and all the saints,” and promised to respect all the estates’ freedom. The estates, in return, acquiesced to a sword being held before the duke, even during legal proceedings, as a symbol of the imperial dignity bestowed by Emperor Frederick III, but without violation of the Duchy of Opava’s rights and traditions. The nucleus of mutual obligation between the magnate and the community was the pledge to rule justly while subjects promised to maintain their loyalty. The mutual loyalty oath was a universal model used in all of Silesia. Leaders of the community assembled in front of the incoming magnate and “humbly requested” maintaining their rights and freedoms. The magnate, who “looked to the loyalty shown to his ancestors,” then declared his readiness to meet his obligation and to protect the subject’s rights and freedoms in the role of a just arbiter. The duke usually accompanied this declaration by issuing a corresponding document. The community leaders then swore loyalty to their new lord.111 The acquisition of a ducal residence also gained a certain importance in confirming the legitimacy of the new lord. The Legnica and Brzeg ducal chronicler noticed during the first entrance of Duke Louis to Brzeg Castle that it was in ruins and the duke spent a significant amount to repair it and the city walls.112 The chroniclers usually ignored ceremonial welcomes for a magnate and one of the few recordings to survive is associated with the Duchy of Legnica, which was embroiled in a heated succession conflict in the mid-15th century. Duchess Hedwig was captured in 1452 and banished from the city with 110 The new Hohenzollern administration in Krnov expressed these elements. Three urbaria were gradually created in 1521–1535 that inventoried chamber goods. See Čapský, “Okna sklenná”, pp. 187–206. 111 Cf. Stanisław Kutrzeba, Prawa – przywileje – statuty i lauda księstw oświecimskiego i zatorskiego (Cracow: nakładem Akademii Umiejętności, 1912), pp. 243–44, no. 5. 112 Catalogus abbatum Saganensium, srs I, p. 146: “… et eciam castrum in Brega, quod ruinosum in eius inadventu fuit nimis desolatum.” On the symbolism of holding a residential castle, see Čapský, “Okna sklenná”, pp. 187–206.

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her son Frederick when she unsuccessfully tried to assert her authority. To add insult to injury, the forced departure from the castle with only one cart took place during a rainy night. The duchess was only granted asylum in Goldberg, whose inhabitants joyously welcomed the magnate. The tables were turned two years later and after a coup on the Legnica city council. The duchess was ceremonial welcomed back within the city walls and was accompanied along with Frederick all the way to the castle itself. The re-taking control over the central residence thus played the role of a symbolic transfer of power.113 We could build out other elements of Silesian ducal welcomes using either imperial or Central European analogies. In reality, the sources that would verify such suppositions have not survived. Even in Wrocław we are not able to differentiate the older layer of ducal festivities from its more modern version influenced by the will of the Bohemian kings. A leftover from the previous period was probably the significant role played by Wrocław bishops, which at the end of the 13th century were still understood as ducal chaplains. In the first half of the 15th century, the bishops would welcome the king entering Wrocław at the head of the city delegation and chronicler Peter Eschenloer, who set out the path Matthias Corvinus took in 1469, let it be known that the city had no prior plan for such a procession. Conclusions from studies of welcomes show that besides the generally accepted framework, the actual order of these rituals was always a bit different. However, the main goal was always an effort to avoid any surprises to expectations on either side. Violations of symbolic communication led to conflicts expressed in heated clashes.114 A necessary part of welcoming a new lord was a mass with the duke and leading representatives in attendance. The liturgical ceremony made up part of the installation into office and concurrently created the right to the magnate’s usual declaration of authority “by the grace of God.” The ducal tradition of the Polish Piastist state was founded in the ceremonial examples accepted in the 11th century from Western lands and implemented into a domestic environment. The sacred legitimisation of ducal power was reflected in the Cracow pontifical from the following century, which besides a blessing for the duke, 113 Annales Glogovienses, srs X, pp. 13 and 20: “Et sic domina dusissa restituta fuerat ad castrum cum filio suo Friderico cum magno honore et hoc fuit circa corporis Christi.” 114 On the general framework of welcomes with a summary of the literature, see Robert Antonín and Tomáš Borovský, Panovnické vjezdy na středověké Moravě (Brno: Matice moravská, 2009). On welcomes during the time of Matthias Corvinus, see most recently Holá, “Holdovací cesty,” pp. 136–65 and Vojtěch Černý, “Král obklopen kacíři. Návštěva Ladislava Pohrobka ve Vratislavi pohledem kronikáře Petra Eschenloera,” in Ve znamení zemí Koruny české, eds. Luděk Březina, Jana Konvičná and Jan Zdichynec (Prague: Casablanca, 2006), pp. 578–84.

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the spear that symbolised his rule, and the armour that symbolised chivalric virtue also include three prayers: Omnipotens det tibi Deus, Benedic Domine fortitudinem, and Deus perpetuitatis auctor. According to Zbygniew Dalewski, these also appear in the oldest edition of the Anglo-Saxon coronation rites. The fact the pontifical was assembled in the Cracow chapter suggest the significant role the Bishop of Cracow played in installing the duke into power over the city senior Piast territory. The content of the liturgical program supplemented the occasional loss of Piast rights to the royal crown and strengthened the position of the Dukes of Cracow within all of Polish territory.115 A more significant acceptance of such liturgical ceremonial elements into the instalment rituals of Silesian dukes is not very likely. The Piasts focused their long-term ambitions on holding Cracow and they entered into conflict with the descendants of Vladislaus II the Exile as late as the beginning of the 14th century. In later periods, the significantly promoted remarks from the Cracow liturgy collided with the constructed splendour of the Bohemian kings. Automatic acceptance of elements from the liturgic program were also prevented by the absence of a prelate with a similar position to the Bishop of Cracow within the power politics of the individual duchies. The Wrocław Piast dynasty had worked throughout the 13th century to keep the Wrocław bishops in a subordinate position. When they died out in 1335, the role of diocese administrator was even more detached from the influence of Silesian dukes and Bohemian monarchs had no interest in changing this situation. We thus have to give up any attempts to determine the origin of peculiar elements included in sacramental ceremonies associated with welcoming a new duke. On the other hand, it can be stated that a significant legitimising argument for the local community was the presence of the claimant at the funeral of the deceased magnate. In the case of the above-mentioned delayed funeral of the Duke of Brzeg, the assembled community decided to wait for the arrival of Frederick II of Legnica, even at the cost of temporarily interring the body, in order to uphold the expected order of funeral ceremonies. Remaining with the dying in their last days, realizing and completing holy foundations, and especially participation in the funeral became one of the important supporting arguments for the new magnate to declare his claims and legitimately assume power, the most important part of which was the already-discussed oath taken by the magnate and the community.116 115 See Zbigniew Dalewski, Władza, prezstrzeń, ceremoniał. Miejsce i uroczystość inauguracji władcy w Polsce średniowiecznej do końca XIV w. (Warsaw: Instytyt Historii PAN, 1996), pp. 103–32. 116 Similar foundations also continued to last in Piast Poland. The Hungarian king and expected successor to Casimir III the Great repeated the funeral with his own participation to avoid any doubt to his claims, See Dalewski, pp. 215–6.

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The funeral mass was usually celebrated by the superior of the monastery where the ducal crypt was located. However, this role did not protect them from demands made by the dukes. The abbot of the monastery complained about the frequent “help” demanded by the Duke of Świdnica. The Knights Hospiteller from the village of Losow also probably breathed a sigh of relief when the procession of Boleslaw III the Wasteful counting 1,500 people including the duke and his wife left their estates after a week and continued on their journey to Hungary. Even so, the commander counted the losses at 100 grzywna of Bohemian groschen.117 Demanding real or imagined ducal rights in some cases could take on the character of an event stamped into the memories of societies for decades to come. In a conflict with the local abbot of Augustinian canons, John I of Żagań violated the boundaries of acceptable interference in the community when he captured the abbot, tortured him with iron, and removed his only healthy eye after he refused to pay a ransom.118 The duke used conflicts within the chapter, a part of which opposed the abbot for his very strict stance on upholding the statutes of the order. Arbitrary violence, however, was a tool whose use threatened the position of the magnate as it doubted his legitimacy. It could easily turn against him during crises with the loss of the community’s loyalty as John’s ancestor Henry V of Iron found out. In the 1350s, he found himself embroiled in a conflict with Frederick of Bieberstein, who claimed one of the fief’s the duke gave in vassal through the female line. The nobleman, who held lands beyond the Lusatian border, did not hesitate to organize a military campaign on ducal territory that was even supported by some of the local nobles. The “Iron Duke” harshly suppressed the uprising and part of the punishment was a public shaming of “disloyal subjects.” The noble representatives of the family had to march through the streets of Głogów with heads and feet uncovered in a group of similarly “dressed” peasants. The nobles took the insult to their honour with great disdain. Sometime later, the duke and his men were attacked in the woods and his head was covered with a hood. Those present then proceeded to insult the immobilised duke, and more was planned for later. We can postulate the possibility that the conspirators were surprised at the ease of how their plan went off and the duke was only saved from further humiliation by a local reeve who brought courtiers to the cellar of the church of St. James where the duke was being held.119 117 Lambert Schulte, “Heinrichau und Münsterberg,” in Kleine Schriften, Darstellungen und Quellen zur schlesichen Geschichte vol. 23 (Wrocław: Hirt, 1918), pp. 103–53. Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX, p. 259, no. 1599. 118 See Catalogus abbatum Saganensium, srs I, p. 289. 119 See Barbara Techmańska, “‘Żelazny książe’  – Henryk V. Głogowsko–żagański,” Studia śląskie 63 (2004), pp. 149–60.

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The Duchy of Głogów oscillated between royal and ducal control. Thanks to a rather wealthy corpus of surviving narrative sources, we witness a broad palette of model situations and symbolic uses of power. When the duchy came into royal hands at the end of the 15th century, the defeated burghers were forced to request a pardon for their jailed representatives with uncovered heads. The penitent procession was led to the Castle bridge by the councilmen where the governor observed their humiliation. A leitmotiv of his speech was the rebellion of the “disloyal” against “God’s will” carried out by the blessed magnate. The scene, which saved the lives of most of the convicted, ended with a pilgrimage to the graveyard of St. John. Another burgher believed to be among the leaders of the insurrection was ransomed after weeks of uncertainty with an even greater humiliation. In the shroud of a penitent man, he had to crawl barefoot on his knees from the jail to the city hall and then on to the castle, accompanied by the councilmen. When he threw himself onto his battered knees, covered in blood and begging the mercy of the governor, he was finally pardoned. Model humiliations of penitents known from a series of examples from the imperial environment were used by Wrocław burghers begging the removal of a ban placed on their city after the murder of a papal inquisitor in the 1340s. The generally accepted formula again counted on the cooperation of both participating sides and allowed both to “save face” without doubting the right to execute justice.120 The surviving sources repeatedly pull our suppositions about political communication and rituals of ducal power into the Lower Silesian environment, but similar events took place in the region’s upper areas as well. At the beginning of the 15th century, Upper Silesian conditions were upturned by the murder of the son of Duke of Cieszyn Przemysław I Noszak. His eponymous son was the victim of murderers hired in the Bohemian lands by Duke of Ratibor John II the Mad. However, the Duke of Cieszyn’s revenge did not target Ratibor. Przemysław I Noszak, with the help of spies, tracked the murderers and captured them with their leader Martin Chřtán, taking them back to his city of 120 On the fate of the Głogów “rebellion” and its orchestrated end, see Petr Kozák, Zrod stavovského Hlohovska (Opava: Slezská univerzita, 2008), pp. 57–89, which also notes the participants of this “second” uprising had more luck than their predecessors who were “forgotten” during the siege of Głogów and the representatives of the city died of hunger and thirst in prison. On the model behaviour of penitents, see Gerd Althoff, “Das Privileg der ‘Deditio’. Formen gütlicher Konfliktbeendigung in der mittelalterlichen Adelsgesellschaft,” in Nobilitas. Funktion und Repräsentation des Adels in Alteuropa, eds. Otto Gerhard Oexle and Werner Paravicini (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1997), pp. 27–52 and Rituál smíření. Konflikt a jeho řešení ve středověku, eds. Martin Nodl and Martin Wihoda (Brno: Matice moravská, 2008).

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residence under armed guard. Three executioners gradually sat the murderers on a hollow iron horse heated by burning coal, carrying them through the streets of Cieszyn and around the ring walls while removing flesh and eventually their entrails from their bodies with pliers. Reports of the horrible scene that played out before the inhabitants of Cieszyn, as well as the revenge for the murder and the insult to ducal majesty reached Cracow, where they were recorded by chronicler Jan Długosz decades later.121 The exemplary nature of punishments in the medieval dispensation of justice, or as Michael Foucault described them ceremonies where the momentarily damaged sovereignty of the ruler is reconstituted,122 was accompanied by the theatrical granting of pardons. The wives of ruling dukes could also play their role here as was the case in the imperial environment, allowing the duke to reconsider his decision through their pleas made in front of witnesses. In 1376, the appeals of duchesses present led to the punishment for a thief captured while stealing armour from the Brzeg city hall to be changed to banishment for life. Three years later, the wife of Duke Henry IX of Lubin, possibly shortly after their wedding, contributed to the release of another individual prosecuted by the city court.123 Land and ducal courts, regardless of the presence of the magnate or his representative, would meet at the ducal residence or in another location associated with the supremacy of the magnate (i.e. refectory monasteries) and the bureaucrats and representatives of the noble community helped the dukes provide justice. The usual formulation stressed by the duke, that he made the decision with the approval of the community of the land, took its origins in the activities of this institution. And the duke, out of tradition, supported it with “gifts” of several casks of wine, beer, and possibly other delicacies. Wine and beer were often presented to land court sessions as gifts from cities or acquired as fines for not attending meetings.124 121 Joannis Dlugossii Annales seu Cronicae incliti Regni Poloniae, vol. X–XI (Warsaw: Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1997), p. 241. On the fate of the initiator of the murder John II of Iron and his possible motives, see most recently Hana Miketová, “Itinerář vévody Jana II. Opavského a Ratibořského,” in Historie 2008, ed. Ondřej Felcman (Ústí nad Orlicí: Oftis, 2009), pp. 37–58. 122 On the understanding of public torture and execution as a political ritual used to demonstrate power, see Michel Foucault, Dohlížet a trestat (Prague: Dauphin, 2000), pp. 86–97. 123 Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX, p. 55, no. 383 and p. 61, no. 425. 124 Cf. ms Wrocław, Archiwum Państwowe, Zbiór Klosego, inv. no. 50 (Preise, Einnahmen, Ausgaben), fol. 49a. Čapský, “Okna sklenná,” pp. 187–206. In the already–mentioned Duchy of Auschwitz, the norm was for a legal official to visit the members of the community and call on them to participate in courts. He would leave notes for the nobles he was not able to meet with the noble’s reeve. Court meetings began an hour after sunrise and those who didn’t arrive before noon was fined three-score groschen. Cf. Kutrzeba,

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Comparing the dates of meetings of land courts or renewals of city councils with the itineraries of magnates shows that sessions of the court were one of the key moments for political communication between the magnate and the territory. The dukes could have used the advantages of the hierarchical space and the procedural order. The liturgical calendar offered a similar opportunity for political communication. Liturgical processions, the feasts of important saints, participation at celebratory masses, or placing the cornerstone of a new chapel and hanging a new bell offered controlled opportunities for meetings between the magnate and his subjects. The duke’s behaviour included a mix of expected generosity with the role of a ruler that cares for the spiritual administration of the community. The Duke of Brzeg cajoled the bishop into allowing celebrations of the feast of St. Anne throughout the duchy – possibly in light of his eponymous wife. Silesian Piasts and Přemyslids joined lay religious fraternal orders or at least significantly contributed to their activities.125 A category unto itself were memorial chapels whose main purpose was the presentation of the magnate in the memory of the community as a ruler touched by God’s grace. Henry VII of Głogów thus founded the Chapel of St. George and decorated it with spoils such as arms and conquered banners. These were trophies from victories over Polish units defeated after their incursion into the Silesian territory in an otherwise rather marginal skirmish.126 7

… And a Few Words in Conclusion

The political situation in late medieval Silesia was, in comparison with other parts of the Lands of the Bohemian crown, quite particular. The basic legal framework of relations between the dukes and the land and the dukes and the monarch meant two layers of rituals. The mutual obligation of the community of the land was fulfilled by the nobility’s and cities’ oath of loyalty and the declarative promise to rule justly expressed by the duke. Supporting arguments Prawa – przywileje – statuty, pp. 244–8, no. 6 and 10. The obligation to visit all (!) knights also testifies to the small amount of noble communities in the fragmented duchies. 125 See Codex diplomaticus Silesiae, vol. IX, p. 42; p. 79, no. 554 and p. 182, no. 286. Expressions of ducal patronage through the construction of sacred and profane buildings was mapped in detail by Czechowicz, Książęcy mecenat. 126 The invasion of Polish units was caused by the duke himself, who first unsuccessfully attacked the Polish city of Wschow, was repulsed, and in the end had to defend himself. The unsuccessful discharge could also be interpretively used as a victory while defending his own territory, protecting his subjects, and thus implemented into the memory structure of society. Cf. Kapłon, Głogów, p. 103.

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when taking over authority included participating in the previous magnate’s funeral and taking control of the chief ducal residence. The declarative definition of relations with the Bohemian king included the vassal oath (homagium) and an oath of loyalty sworn with fingers paced on the Gospels or a relic. The location of the ritual became a legitimising factor only in the late Middle Ages. Both the latter acts were based in the legal tradition that filtered in from the imperial environment (grafted onto older domestic models originating in the Piast period of the Polish state). The universality of this model is documented on the example of the newly formed Duchy of Opava. The symbolic-legal acts of the Opava Přemylids towards the Bohemian kings and the community of the land took on similar if not identical forms as in the Silesian territory. Thus, during the 14th and 15th centuries, the form of power exercised by the Silesian magnates took the appearance of a model that was not just a simplification of formulas creating autocratic splendour, but an individual expression using elements of chivalric-courtly culture based on the necessary symbolic communication with the domestic community, royal courts, and with the aristocratic, especially imperial, environment.

Chapter 5

Rituals, Ceremonies, and Symbolic Communication in the Lives of the Bohemian Nobility in the Late Middle Ages Robert Šimůnek The three categories in the title essentially form the framework of this survey of the noble mentality and, in a certain sense, its everyday reality. Symbolic communication is an over-arching category that includes rituals and ceremonies whose definitions have exceeded being a simple instrument, and whose contemporary importance and historical constructs have been defined to a theoretical perfection.1 Overstating matters a bit, we can say this is all just word play as the topic itself, its contemporary testimonials, and our abilities to reconstruct history today do not change the definitions. No matter what we call it, we are always within the framework of a defined whole. The fundamental (theoretical) difference between a ritual and a ceremony is that a ritual announces and sanctifies a change in state while a ceremony does not. A ritual plays the role of presenting a point of connection and being a bridge between the past, which it connects to, and the future it creates. This exposes another difference: a ritual is unique, while a ceremony can be repeated.2 Those are the default definitions. If we go further and ponder their usefulness in a medieval noble environment, we can find moments common to both. This is the continuity and obligatory stereotypical nature of individual verbal and non-verbal components and their succession, which also includes the environment where they take place. 1 Pavlína Rychterová, “Rituály, rity a ceremonie. Teorie rituálu a jejich reflexe v medievistickém bádání,” in Stát, státnost a rituály přemyslovského věku, Problémy, názory, otázky, eds. Martin Wihoda and Demeter Malaťák (Brno: Matice Moravská, 2006), pp. 11–23, is useful in terms of the utility of sociological categorization in medieval research as is Pavlína Rychterová, “Kam s ním? Rituál a ceremonie v medievistice,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity ve střední Evropě 14. a 15. století, eds. Martin Nodl and František Šmahel (Prague: Argo, 2009), pp. 427–32. 2 Barbara Stollberg-Rilinger, “Symbolische Kommunikation in der Vormoderne. Begriffe  – Thesen – Forschungsperspektiven,” Zeitschrift für historische Forschung 31 (2004), pp. 489– 527, here pp. 502–4, Gerd Althoff and Barbara Stollberg-Rilinger, “Rituale der Macht in Mittelalter und Früher Neuzeit,” in Die neue Kraft der Rituale, ed. Axel Michaels (Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag Winter, 2007), pp. 141–77, here pp. 144–5.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004514010_007

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This all can be said slightly differently: rituals and ceremonies do not exist in themselves. They are expressions of relationships between all actors and participants and are created by their actions. Omitting any of the components or deviating from the formal obligations means violating the established order and severing social ties. Generally, Gerd Althoff’s statement about rituals of power holds true: their meaning is not derived just from the (objective) instruments of power used, but they are defined by how they are understood and the meaning attributed to them.3 A ritual is thus a form or set of forms of communication that play a legitimizing role. It is not just about the specific ritual or ceremony, but the characteristics of a whole spectrum of continuously utilized expressions that can be called symbolic communication. In Althoff’s definition, a ritual’s cyclic nature, stereotypes, and codification need not be its defining specifics.4 In light of the approach to recreating desired forms, the starting point becomes any ceremonial or ritual behaviour that is bound to environmental or social situations and realized through conventional expressions that create a narrative holding meaning. If we were to take a noble wedding as an example of a festivity that every nobleman, even unmarried ones, had experience with, then we can say this is an “intrinsic” confluence of a ritual (the act of concluding a marriage as a “change of state”) and a ceremony (e.g. the feast afterwards that of course includes a seating plan reflecting the social hierarchy of the participants) with a whole spectrum of expressions demonstrating the proper lifestyle (number of guests, who was and was not invited, decoration of interiors, the clothing of the participants, as well as the quality of food and drink on the table). The “inseparability” or confluence of the ritual  – ceremony  – symbolic communication categories also forms the base of the following text divided into three mutually supplemental parts. The first describes the role of the “centre” – in this case the court of the sovereign and central institutions like the diet or court that provided an example of forming and presenting social relations and the appropriate environment. This is especially true of the 3 Althoff and Stollberg-Rilinger, “Rituale der Macht,” p. 142. 4 “Wir sprechen von Ritualen, wenn Handlungen komplexerer Natur, besser Ketten von Handlungen, von Akteuren in bestimmten Situationen in immer der gleichen oder zumindest sehr ähnlicher Weise wiederholt werden und dies bewußt geschieht, ein Wiedererken­ nungseffekt bewußt erzielt wird. Es existiert also in den Köpfen von Akteuren und Zuschauern so etwas wie ein Idealtypus des Rituals, der in der konkreten Durchführung zur Darstellung gebracht und wiedererkannt wird  – und auch werden soll.” Gerd Althoff, “Die Veränderbarkeit von Ritualen im Mittelalter,” in Formen und Funktionen öffentlicher Kommunikation im Mittelalter, ed. Gerd Althoff (Stuttgart: Böhlau, 2001), pp. 157–76, here pp. 157–8.

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sovereign’s court and the representation of the nobility, which served the gentry as a source of inspiration meant to be imitated. The transfer of these examples to the local level, or a level where the sovereign is absent on the one hand and social ties are profiled on the other forms the basis of the second section. The third section points out overlaps and context: the entire spectrum of symbolic communication is inseparably associated with the role of stereotypical rituals/ceremonies in the life of a nobleman as well as a visualization of social hierarchy. All the events in the everyday life of the nobility were not exceptional or festive moments, but on the contrary completely regular events. That is not without significance – it suggests the role ritual behaviour and actions played in the contemporary life of noble society, whether it be within the wider family or social network or a declaration of belonging to a certain group of people.5 1

Rituals and Ceremonies at the Court

Today, there is an incalculable wealth of literature dedicated to medieval “courtly issues” that cannot be consumed without some level of selectivity. The topic of rituals and ceremonies in this environment is similarly expansive, because everything that took place at the court could have underlying meanings and layered symbolism. We thus approach the topic with a conscious acknowledgement of our work being an incomplete study that we try to compensate with a series of illustrations of the roles of rituals and ceremonies in the lives of the nobility starting with those that took place at court or are closely associated with the court environment. 1.1 Knighting, Feudal Oaths, Oaths of Loyalty Loyalty, as one of the basic categories of ethics, finds its representation in a series of ceremonial and ritualistic moments. It is important to note that sworn loyalty was a condition for the honour of the nobility. A sovereign rewarded those “loyal” to him and punished or generously pardoned those deemed “disloyal.” In either case, it was a performance where little was left to chance or spontaneous activity. Knighting is probably among the most well-known ceremonies declaring adherence to chivalric ideals. This chiefly included loyalty (especially to the 5 On the forms of representation of Czech medieval nobility Robert Šimůnek, Reprezentace české středověké šlechty (Prague: Argo, 2013).

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sovereign), commitment to Christianity, and identification with a range of other chivalric virtues. The ancient knighting ritual underwent a significant evolution. The original act of putting on a sword belt as a sign of adulthood became a festive ceremony in the 12th century. The beginning of this change is dated to the knighting of Emperor Friedrich I’s two sons in Mainz in 1184. Afterwards, knighting was associated with bathing, prayer, and fasting as the ceremony included a sacramental blessing. Clerics would bless the sword and reminded the new knights of their role: to protect the church and all those in need.6 Knighting could be found in the Czech lands as far back as the 13th century, including all the expected contemporary meanings. It usually represented an expression of the sovereign’s gratitude or a declaration of a specific personal relationship. Knighting before battle to instil courage was a special case, as was knighting after a battle in recognition of the valour shown.7 Knighting had been a part of the royal coronation itself (but there are questions of how to interpret correctly cases where the sources expressively do not corroborate knighting taking place). We can name the placing of the cornerstone of the Zbraslav Monastery (1297) that followed a day after the celebration of Wenceslas II’s coronation as one case where knighting took place. The ceremony culminated with a mass celebrated by the Archbishop of Meissen followed by the knighting of a significant number of men. The knighting of “worthy” burghers two centuries later was part of the coronation of Louis II of Hungary and his wife Marie Habsburg of Austria (1522), which was anomalous from a ceremonial point of view.8 6 The early phases of knighting are described in Elsbet Orth, “Formen und Funktionen der höfischen Rittererhebung,” in Curialitas. Studien zu Grundfragen der höfisch-ritterlichen Kultur, ed. Josef Fleckenstein (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1990), pp. 128–70 – and the author says of the “milestone” year of 1184: “Die höfische Hochadels-Schwertleite ist wohl seit 1184, spätestens seit der Wende zum 13. Jahrhundert nicht mehr als ein rein weltliches Fest anzusehen.” (p. 151); Werner Rösener, “Schwertleite,” in Lexikon des Mittelalters, vol. VII (Munich: Lexma Verlag, 1995), pp. 1646–7. In relation to the Czech environment, the most recent work came from Robert Novotný, “Proměna rituálu. Šlechta v období dvojvěří,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity, pp. 237–46, here pp. 240–3. 7 On the symbolic importance of knighting as an element of social advancement in a broader context see Wojciech Iwańczak, Po stopách rytířských příběhů. Rytířský ideál v českém písemnictví 14. století (Prague: Argo, 2001), pp. 52–4. 8 Fr. J. Zoubek, “Pasování na rytířství mečem sv. Václava při korunování králů Českých,” Památky archaeologické a místopisné 9 (1871–1873), pp. 1–6. The sources vary as to the number of people knighted in 1297 between 52 and 240 (Dana Dvořáčková-Malá, “Dvorský ceremoniál, rituály a komunikace v dobovém kontextu,” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku, vol. III. Všední a sváteční život na středověkých dvorech, eds. Dana Dvořáčková-Malá and Jan Zelenka (Prague:

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An expression of a personal relationship between the knight and the sovereign was evident in 1250 when Wenceslas I ordered the knighting of the royal administrator from Veliz, Nedvěd, which was evidently associated with preceding events (a controversy between the king and his son). A wealth of documents describing knightings before battle exists, including testimony from the famous Battle of Kressenbrunn where King Ottokar II knighted several warriors before the battle (1260). Burian Kaplíř of Sulevice earned his knighthood from the hand of the Holy Roman Emperor Louis IV at the Battle of Mühldorf (1322), which was called the last battle of knights on German soil.9 It is not a coincidence that the sword and spurs represented the attributes of a knight and continue to hold this association into the modern period, as seen on tombstones, for example.10 One could also earn his spurs through crusades to Prussia and Livonia, as well as pilgrimages to the Holy Sepulchre. For example, Hynek of Poděbrady (1452– 1492), in his translations of Boccaccio’s Decameron, tells of a certain Ludvík. He “was inclined to knighthood and not to being a merchant,” and told his father that “he wants to go to the Holy Sepulchre for his knighthood.” Jan Hasištejnský of Lobkovice was present for such a knighting on his trip to the Holy Sepulchre (1493), but recalls the event without mentioning whether he was among the knighted.11 Knighting ceases to be a transsubstational ritual in the later period, Historický ústav AV ČR, 2009), pp. 33–55, here pp. 37, 39). – On Louis’s coronation František Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály, ceremonie a festivity české stavovské monarchie 1471–1526” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity, pp. 147–70, here pp. 158–62, and p. 161 on knighting. 9 On Nedvěd’s knighting Václav Novotný, Čechy královské za Přemysla I. a Václava I. (1197– 1253) (České dějiny I/3) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1928), pp. 873–4; on knighting ahead of the Battle of Kressenbrunn Maurice Keen, Das Rittertum (Düsseldorf: Artemis Verlag, 2002), p. 124; on knighting in association with the Battle of Mühldorf Wilhelm Erben, Mühldorfer Ritterweihen 1319 und 1322 (Graz: Leuschner & Lubensky, 1932). It’s rather surprising that knighting is mentioned only once and vaguely in the Dalimil Chronicle (from the beginning of the 14th century): “Before the battle, many Czechs were made knights.” On the connections with using the term knight Vlastimil Brom, “Panovnické tituly v Dalimilově kronice. K využití textové lingvistiky pro historickou interpretaci,” in Stát, státnost a rituály přemyslovského věku, pp. 217–34, here p. 229. 10 Michal Slivka, “Symbolika výzbroje a výstroja,” Archaeologia Historica 27 (2002), pp. 589– 605, here especially pp. 595–9. 11 The first moment is described in Tomáš Baletka, “Účast české a moravské šlechty na ‘pruských jízdách’ ve 14. století” in Sto let od narození profesora Jindřicha Šebánka, ed. Kateřina Smutná (Brno: Moravský zemský archiv, 2000), pp. 79–88. – Knighting in the Holy land cited evidence from Hynek z Poděbrad, Boccacciovské rozprávky, ed. Antonín Grund (Prague: Orbis, 1950), pp. 39–40, Jan Hasištejnský z Lobkovic, Putování k Svatému hrobu, ed. František Maleček (Prague: Nákl. J. Otty, 1907), pp. 122–3, a wider contemporary framework of self-presentation through performing a pilgrimage to Jerusalem is in Carola

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becoming one of prestige instead. It is among the more festive occasions to take place at court, on battlefields, and on holy ground. One need only to open Jan Zajíc of Házmburk’s (1496–1553) Sarmacia to discover how this member of an old noble family was knighted three times: in 1509 by Vladislaus II Jagiellon (Vladislaus II of Hungary) as part of his coronation at Prague Castle; in 1515 by Maximilian I during the Vienna meeting of the Habsburgs and the Jagiellons; and in 1522 he was accepted into the lay order of knights and protectors of the Holy Sepulchre. The text clearly shows just how much he valued the ceremonies themselves as he carefully documents each one, which are among the only records of his own life in his writings. He considered his knighting at the Holy Sepulchre to be especially morally binding throughout the rest of his life (the text was probably written in 1552). Zajíc’s text also provides another important testimony: the ridicule of a class of knight-pretenders that illustrates a general devaluation of chivalric values that we will return to in the conclusion.12 The basic framework of the ceremony marking the granting and accepting of a fief was rather stable throughout the Middle Ages. The relationship between the vassal and the lord was a personal one; and thus each vassal experienced the ceremony and its intrinsic oaths repeatedly. In the ceremony, the vassal knelt and placed his clasped hands into the lord’s. Then, still kneeling or possibly standing, took the feudal oath according to the prescribed formulation with his fingers raised to symbolize fealty, or perhaps with his fingers on a relic. Handshakes were part of the ceremony in some cases. They could be used in place of the oath to swear fealty in the case of a prominent individual or under specific conditions. The ceremony and taking of oaths took place in the presence of larger groups of people, either other vassals or witnesses from the lord’s court. Generally, the ritual can be seen as a symbolic act of submission that recognized the superiority of the feudal lord while to a certain extent also compensating for the absence of a real expression of the lord’s superiority over the vassal.13

12 13

Fey, “Wallfahrtserinnerung an spätmittelalterlichen Fürstenhöfen in Bild und Kult,” in Mittelalterliche Fürstenhöfe und ihre Erinnerungskulturen, eds. Carola Fey, Steffen Krieb and Werner Rösener (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007), pp. 141–65. Jan Zajíc z Házmburka, Sarmacia aneb zpověď českého aristokrata, ed. Jaroslav Pánek (Prague: Scriptorium, 2007), pp. 16, 18, 151, 154; on the importance of knighting in Jan’s vision of a Christian knight and his mission, especially pp. 27–41. Details of fief investiture rituals are discussed in Althoff and Stollberg-Rilinger, “Rituale der Macht,” pp. 145–68, recent work about the Czech environment from Krzysztof

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Insight into the feudal oath comes from an event that took place on January 10, 1289. On that day, Casimir of Opole-Bytom presented his banner to the Czech king at the royal palace at Prague Castle in the presence of a number of church officials and nobles, thus resigning free control of his holdings (“resigno publice per vexillum meum”) and then accepting them in fief. He thus performed the symbolic act of homagium, swearing fealty and obedience through a personal oath.14 The oath-taking ceremony itself has been complexly documented in the Olomouc bishopric. Whether we describe the ritual in the late 13th century (documented in 1288), or during the episcopate of Stanislav Thurzo (1497–1540), it has several analogous components: a visualization of the social hierarchy (sitting bishop, kneeling vassal), the symbolic granting of the fief (the vassal places his hands into the bishop’s), and the oath of fealty.15 It can be expected that though the legal foundations for feudal oaths were different, the goals, though not completely the same, were very similar at least from the point of view of the lord: to assure the allegiance of the person in question. The oath of fealty could in some ways provide an alternative to the feudal oath that Czech lords considered to be dishonourable. The fidelitatem et homagium was sworn to King Wenceslas by several mutually antagonistic noble cliques, which included an obligation to uphold a 25-year truce with their rivals (1284).16 Petr of Rožmberk and his relative Bavor III of Strakonice provide an exemplary case from a slightly later period.17 The narrative in both cases was very similar: The oath to king John of Luxembourg was probably delivered while kneeling, and possibly with a kiss (osculum). (figure 5.1)

14 15 16 17

Kowalewski, Rycerze, włodycy, panosze. Ludzie systemu lennego w późnośredniowiecznych Czechach (Warsaw: Instytut Historii Polskiej Akademii Nauk, 2009). Libor Jan, “Lenní přísahy a přísahy věrnosti na dvoře posledních Přemyslovců,” in Stát, státnost a rituály přemyslovského věku, pp. 101–12, here p. 103. The latest work comes from Dalibor Janiš, “Ceremoniál přijímání lén a lenních přísah na středověkém dvoře olomouckých biskupů,” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku, vol. III, pp. 149–63. Jan, “Lenní přísahy,” with extensive citations of individual documents. Martin Mikuláš, “Jan Lucemburský a Petr I. z Rožmberka” in Rituál smíření, pp. 131–7, here pp. 132–4, notes cases of noble fealty oaths by Czech nobles to the sovereign from the period of the late Přemyslids and John of Luxembourg; especially the case of Petr I of Rožmberk who pledged fealty to the monarch shortly after Jindřich of Lipé was captured, where Mikuláš discovered through context that the king de facto purchased Petr and his relative Bavor III’s loyalty.

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Figure 5.1 The forefather Vítek and his sons – the central scene of the house of Vítek legend, so-called Division of roses

1.2 Honorary Offices and Coronations Honorary offices and coronations are connected for a reason. Executing honorary court offices, especially during coronations, were highly ceremonial acts while also serving as a reflection of the standing of the individual and family in the social hierarchy or its special relation to the sovereign. Court offices were an honorary service: i.e. cup bearers, marshals, seneschals, butlers, and sword, shield, and flag bearers. The privilege of “personal service” to the sovereign held its own social prestige.18 The highest hereditary court offices that continued into the early modern period are a special case (such as how the lords from Lipé were marshals, the lords of Házmburk were the masters of tables, etc.). The honorary service model was similar in its foundation to roles in coronation celebrations as an expression of personal participation in the administration of the state and a personal relationship with the sovereign. If we look 18

The basic mechanism was described by Althoff and Stollberg-Rilinger, “Rituale der Macht,” pp. 169–70.

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more closely at coronation trends, we discover that the declaration of both of these aspects became clearer over time.19 The growing and more-defined role of the nobility in the coronation can be seen since the time of the late Přemyslids. The nobility no doubt took part even earlier in such activities, at least as witnesses that legitimized the crowning, but only 14th century sources offer a more defined view of the reality. A section of Petr Žitavský’s chronicle describes the coronation of John of Luxembourg and Elizabeth of Bohemia (1311). Despite the speed at which the ceremony was organized, it does suggest that it was associated with the functioning (and display) of the court and the elites of the time. It is logical that the reality described above can be considered to be valid retroactively; meaning the reality of 1311 is the result of 13th century developments. The key ceremonial element at the time was the carrying of the insignia with the king or queen in the procession from the palace to the cathedral as explicitly described in the Zbraslav Chronicle. Later coronations include lists of names. The carrying of the insignia was reserved for leading officials, but without fixed rules for who should be given the honour (which was impossible when taking into account the specifics of a number of Czech coronations). Carrying the crown was in any case reserved for only the highest officials – moving from the office of supreme chamberlain to the office of the supreme burgrave. In terms of overarching trends, lords gradually took over dominance of the ceremony, which became a forum and tool to express current views and a reflection of the court and noble hierarchy. It also expressed the specifics of a given political situation and the importance of individual people in that context. The coronation of Albert II in 1438 serves as an example as four lords carried the crown: contemporary sources first mention Oldřich of Rožmberk, who held no office at the time; and then list supreme burgrave Menhart of Hradec; supreme judge Mikuláš Zajíc of Házmburk and of Kost; and Hanuš of Kolovraty.20 The prestige associated with carrying the crown jewels, the space 19

20

Two recent works on coronation: Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály” (the author pays significant attention to the accompanying ceremonies); Václav Žůrek, “Dvůr a dvorská hierarchie v korunovačním obřadu pozdně středověkých Čech,” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku, vol. III, pp. 93–103 (and the author’s chapter on coronations in this book). Žůrek, “Dvůr a dvorská hierarchie,” p. 99. – The evidence suggests the most reliable is Bartošek of Drahonice who lists the 4 men who carried the crown, while General Prior of the Knights of Malta Wenceslas of Michalovice carried the sceptre, Hynek Krušina of Lichtenburk/Kumburk carried the sword, and Jan of Rýzmberk and Rabí carried the orb (Cronica Bartossii de Drahonicz, ed. Jaroslav Goll, frb V (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1893), pp. 621–2).

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and time close to the royal couple, as well as an unwillingness to reach an agreement, may have scuppered the coronation of Queen Mary on May 29, 1522. Catholics demanded the right to carry all the insignia, which the Utraquists did not want to allow, while the lower nobility also planned to visualize their part in the event. The king eventually resolved the matter by carrying the sceptre and orb himself, while George of Brandenburg, Louis’s relative and guardian, carried the sword.21 The coronation of Ferdinand I in 1527 represented an adaptation of the coronation ceremony into an expression of its own role in installing a new sovereign at the end of the Middle Ages, serving as a harbinger of the future. The king’s favour of the Rožmberks as his loyal allies and as a counterweight to Zdeněk Lev of Rožmitál and his clique led to the crown being carried by Supreme Burgrave Zdeněk Lev of Rožmitál together with Jan III of Rožmberk while two other Rožmberks were in the procession as well.22 1.3 Festive Occasions in Court Life Coronations were among the key ceremonies and fundamental elements that legitimized the sovereign’s power. They also captured the changing role of the nobility in their framework.23 Coronations are also unique in their ability to record new developments. The day-to-day and festive life of the court presented a series of situations that we can call ceremonial, or at least consider associated with ceremonies, despite being events that were repeated with various levels of frequency, just like the coronation.24 Contrary to the trends in coronations or in the case of assemblies of the estates (land diets) and institutionalized courts,25 festive ceremonies (at least from today’s ability to study them) were simply cyclical without any noticeable changes in meaning. 21 22 23

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Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály,” p. 160. Žůrek, “Dvůr a dvorská hierarchie,” p. 101. Which rather compliments the changing interpretation of the original law as explained by Martin Nodl, “Kosmův mýtus o počátcích práv a zákonů kmene Čechů a jeho pozdější transformace,” in Limity a možnosti historického poznání. Sborník z cyklu přednášek, ed. Martin Elbel (Olomouc/Pardubice: Univerzita Palackého, 2008), pp. 125–34. The range of this topic are well mapped by the texts in the collection Höfische Feste im Spätmittelalter, eds. Gerhard Fouquet, Harm von Seggern and Gabriel Zeilinger (Kiel: Residenzen-Kommission der Akad. der Wiss. zu Göttingen, 2003). Robert Novotný, “Dvorská a zemská hierarchie v pozdně středověkých Čechách” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku, ed. Dana Dvořáčková-Malá (Prague: Historický ústav AV ČR, 2006), pp. 145–61.

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These are chiefly tournaments and hunts, which besides being popular (and not particularly inexpensive) hobbies, also fit into the wider framework of meaning: it was an expression of identification with the ideals of chivalric (courtly) culture. The tournament in the Czech milieu was a certain expression of social distinction (a “chivalric” hobby reserved for nobles), despite the documented non-nobles that took part in them. This includes the famous case of Larva, where such a non-noble not only defeated the courtier Michal, but also battered Hungarians as a chronicler describes with unashamed national fervour.26 Tournaments and various chivalric competitions became an inseparable component of (political) festivities of all types in a broader range than would be expected. Proof can be found in the contemporary notes intended to be secondary that today alert us to the competition existence. For example, a note from Jindřich of Rožmberk to his father Oldřich in 1454 informs him that the king officially offered him the office of warden in Sechsstädte (Upper Lusatia) and Silesia in the presence of Prince Louis of Bavaria, [Albert] the Margrave of Brandenburg, and other guests. He writes that he lost a clasp worth 20 gold coins while tilting with Albert, but won a horse worth 100 gold coins.27 The goal of the letter was not to inform about the competition in general, which Oldřich could have expected from the context, but the specifics of the loss and subsequent win, especially in light of the social position of Jindřich’s prominent opponent. There is little in the sources about the ceremonial importance of tournaments. Individual mentions can be carefully excerpted from the texts and then presented as a narrative, but what exactly would that reveal? Probably little more than what is already known: these festive occasions were a supplement/continuation of ceremonial events. We know next to nothing about their

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Martin Kolář, “Přídavek o turnajích,” in Českomoravská heraldika. Část všeobecná, ed. August Sedláček (Prague: Česká akademie věd a umění, 1902), pp. 372–7, here p. 376; Thomas Zotz, “Adel und Innovation. Neue Verhaltensformen einer alten Elite im hohen und späten Mittelalter,” in Aufbruch im Mittelalter  – Innovationen in Gesellschaften der Vormoderne, eds. Christian Hesse and Klaus Oschema (Ostfildern: Jan Thorbecke, 2010), pp. 231–44, here especially pp. 238–40, which understands the late medieval tournament as an expression of social distinction – if only because the participants had to prove their noble origin and be recorded in the lists; in this context fictitious lists of tournament participants (starting in the 10th century) had a strong legitimising role. Archiv český, vol. 7, ed. Antonín Rezek (Prague: Domestikální fond království Českého, 1887), pp. 208–9, no. 8.

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content, which is also true of hunts that accompanied noble gatherings.28 It is also worth noting the wide range of gifts associated with hunting, which is something we will discuss below. 2

Rituals and Ceremonies in the Environments of Noble Estates

Any activity, behaviour, or situation that repeats unaltered (or least remaining in the same narrative framework) with sufficient regularity becomes a routine. The result of this rather banal reality presents a fundamental problem for studying ceremonies. There are a whole series of situations and moments that can have a ceremonial or ritual nature, but are not described well in the sources. This is not because the sources have been lost, but because these events were simply never recorded. There are sporadic cases to the contrary, such as a report about the near-ceremonial conversion of a Czech nobleman to Catholicism in Würzburg shortly after 1499.29 2.1 Ceremony – Ritual – Routine: Festive Occasions in the Lives of Nobles Christenings, weddings, funerals, tournaments, hunts, trips to cities, and regular feasts and dances is a basic list of festive occasions with ceremonial elements that every nobleman encountered, though with varying degrees of frequency and enthusiasm. However, these moments were so routine that contemporaries felt they were not worthy of recording. There were of course exceptions, 28

29

The limits of study in this area are listed in work by Miroslav Svoboda, “„Jáť chci s tebú hnánie učiniti s ostrým.‟ Sonda do života jihočeského šlechtice před polovinou 15. století,” Jihočeský sborník historický 6 (1999), pp. 25–34, where tournaments (and hunts) are discussed using sorted excerpts from sources. On the tournament Kolář, “Přídavek o turnajích”; Josef Macek, “Das Turnier im mittelalterlichen Böhmen,” in Das ritterliche Turnier im Mittelalter. Beiträge zu einer vergleichenden Formen- und Verhaltensgeschichte des Rittertums, ed. Josef Fleckenstein (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1985), pp. 371–89. In the case of hunts there is a general (and hopefully acceptable in the czech environment) framework from studies in the collection Jagd und höfische Kultur im Mittelalter, ed. Werner Rösener (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1997). Robert Novotný, “Konfesionalizace před konfesionalizací? Víra a společnost v husitské epoše” in Heresis seminaria. Pojmy a koncepty v bádání o husitství, eds. Pavlína Rychterová and Pavel Soukup (Prague: Centrum medievistických studií, 2013), pp. 233–66, here pp. 246–7 (the author is preparing a special study of conversion); the most recent analysis of the role of confession in late medieval noble society Robert Šimůnek, “Konfese – prvek rodových tradic české šlechty v pozdním středověku?,” in Dana Dvořáčková-Malá et al., Dvůr a církev v českých zemích středověku (Prague: Historický ústav AV ČR, 2018), pp. 75–88.

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such as extraordinary situations and conflicts that disrupted the institutionalized order. The fragments we have used to rebuild the picture are only fleeting moments. They are either like the situation described above, or a recording in another type of source. These include a preserved note with the names of servants at a noble feast, or accounting records that allow us to reconstruct a funeral with a certain level of detail.30 Still, some questions remain unanswered: for example, where does the toast come from as a form of declaring social relations in a noble and bourgeois context? There is explicit proof, including material evidence, of toasts from the second half of the 16th century, but J. Butzbach remarked around 1500 that the custom of toasts is unknown in Czech society and everyone drinks as they will, without waiting for others. Does this mean the toast was introduced only in the 16th century, or are there just no sources for the earlier period?31 Weddings, balls, and feasts will serve as our illustrations of festive events. The first is the wedding of Jiljí Štampach of Štampach and Dorota of Žďár on Feb 6, 1503 at a castle in Karlovy Vary. The celebration was opulent with the neighbouring nobles taking part and a number of festive speeches given. However, as the amount of alcohol consumed grew, some of the more negative aspects of the guests’ relations came to the surface. Tensions between revellers rose to the point that Šebestián Šlik and Šebestián Pluh of Rabštejn drew their swords and wounded each other. Several people were killed in the ensuing melee. Hanuš and Šebestián Pluh of Rabštejn were captured while trying to escape and were taken to castle Loket where they were held by the Šliks. Jan and Volf of Gutštejn allowed themselves to be voluntarily imprisoned with the two. Their families quickly gathered an army and stood before the gates of Loket a week later, on Feb 9, demanding the release of the prisoners. The subsequent developments are not important for our purposes as the goal was only to show that the reason we have any details at all about the wedding is because of the brawl among the guests that cost several lives. The fact an 30

31

An example of the last case listed can be the funeral and subsequent liturgical memory of noble Mikuláš Slepička of Nažice († 1512) buried in the St. Vitus parish church in Český Krumlov. See Robert Šimůnek, “Historikův virtuální svět. Interiér kostela jako typ reprezentativního prostoru v pozdně středověkých Čechách,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity, pp. 257–98, here pp. 284–7. Hypothetical questions include the extent and forms that noble funerals copied from royal ones (the newest work on the topic from F. Šmahel in this book). Václav Bůžek, “Přípitek ve společnosti raného novověku,” in Antropologické přístupy v historickém bádání, eds. Martin Nodl and Daniela Tinková (Prague: Argo, 2007), pp. 189– 213; Karel Dvořák, Humanistická etnografie Čech. Johannes Butzbach a jeho Hodoporicon (Prague: Universita Karlova, 1975), pp. 46–7.

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extensive conflict that engulfed the entire country began at a wedding is only a noteworthy coincidence.32 A ball at the Ledeč nad Sázavou castle in 1509 also ended tragically and was thus recorded in the sources. Žofie, the wife of Burian Ledečský of Říčany, was killed along with four others when the floor gave way and they fell through. Her husband and others were lucky to have survived. The ripples of this event were felt a century later when Mikuláš Dačický of Heslov noted the tragedy in his memoir.33 A list of tables and servant names comes from an unknown feast, but when a source with such limited information becomes completely unique simply because of its survival, even such banal notes become noteworthy. Schmidt associates the list with the wedding of Ludmila of Rožmberk and Bohuslav of Švamberk in February 1452, which is acceptable as a hypothesis. The list is fragmented and clearly served as an initial proposal. What is undoubtable is that the feast took place in Český Krumlov. Oldřich of Rožmberk is described as an “old man” and his two sons are mentioned, which gives us an interval of November 13, 1451 to January 25, 1457. Two tables of nobles are listed: one for Oldřich and a second for Jan and Jindřich – their brother Jošt is not listed. Those are followed by three tables for unspecified guests along with two that are named (Puchheimer and Volkensdorfer), as well as an undefined group of Czech nobles “at the new castle,” two women mentioned by name, and maidens. The note was primarily created not as a list of guests, but of servers. The servants for both noble tables are listed (it is noteworthy that Oldřich’s table is assigned to a whole series of Rožmberk officials and servants with the rank of knight), as are those for the other tables, the servers of other named individuals, as well as the names of the cupbearer, page, and those overseeing the kitchens. The list is incomplete and fragmented (there are only names without a list of their tasks). Its importance is only from the point of view of the microstructure of personal relations at the Rožmberk court. Generally, our expectations are confirmed: the seating at the tables and the status of the servants had their own rules. They corresponded to the social hierarchy that was visualized within the festive atmosphere. The only 32 33

Jiří Jánský, Hroznatovci a páni z Gutštejna (Domažlice: Nakladatelství Českého lesa, 2009), pp. 202–4. More in David Papajík, Páni ze Sovince. Dějiny rodu moravských sudích (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 2005), pp. 189–90. An analogous case comes from a reference from 1310: “V Litomyšli v Heřmanicích tanec i s piščcem vzala voda”, see Staročeská kronika tak řečeného Dalimila, vol. II, eds. Jiří Daňhelka, Karel Hádek, Bohuslav Havránek and Naděžda Kvítková (Prague: Academia, 1988), p. 535, where without the tragic effects of a flood, the rural dance would not have the slightest hope of being recorded in memory.

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doubts over whether it really was a wedding are the absence of tables at the same hierarchical level as the two for the Rožemberks (the tables for the Švamberks, in the hypothesised case). The guest tables are clearly meant for people of a lower social standing as only a servant and a boy are assigned to each of the tables.34 Weddings, funerals, and other events that drew a larger amount of people whose make-up was determined by a certain order (contrary to land diets and court proceedings where the make-up of attendees was not the result of pre-selection) were contemporaneously understood to be primarily an expression of an individual’s social relations. These festive/sorrowful occasions gave opportunity to display the hierarchy within an adequate framework (it is peculiar that noble associations and orders that were so popular in neighbouring German-speaking territories never took hold in the Czech environment). As participation itself was an expression of social ties, both the public and private parts of these ceremonies served the same purpose. A minor nobleman gained prestige when a significant noble he served organized his wedding. Zdeněk Lev of Rožmitál organized Wenceslas Zub of Landštejn’s wedding at his Blatná castle in 1514, inviting his own relations and the neighbouring nobility to a “friendly gathering.” Therefore, the social aspect of the wedding celebration is wholly explicit in this case.35 A person’s attendance at a funeral served an analogous role, especially if the relations were expressed through other elements. For example, Jaroslav Lev of Rožmitál chided his relative Queen Johana of Rožmitál for wearing black at a funeral, which displayed her Utraquist leanings.36 In summary, what we are able to document vividly through a wealth of sources starting in the 16th century is seen in earlier periods in only random fragments.37 Further proof that festive and sad occasions became places for political action comes from the wedding of a certain Mr. Nebřehovský, a servant of the Strakonice Prior Jan of Švamberk around 1474. The guests at the event debated political matters with Švamberk and requested the calling of a regional diet.38 34 35 36 37

38

Urkundenbuch der Stadt Krummau in Böhmen, vol. II (1420–1480), eds. Valentin Schmidt and Alois Picha (Prague: Selbstverlag des Vereines für Geschichte der Deutschen in Böhmen, 1910), p. 89, no. 344. Archiv český, vol. 7, ed. František Dvorský, p. 49, no. 31. Simona Kotlárová, Páni z Rožmitálu (České Budějovice: Veduta, 2008), p. 142, note 177. An example of this could be the funeral of the “Heir to Rožmberk” Jan Jiří of Švamberk in 1617. See Pavel Král, “Ronšperské setkání. Švamberský pohřeb jako místo politické komunikace předbělohorské šlechtické společnosti,” Jihočeský sborník historický 68 (1999), pp. 291–307. Archiv český, vol. 6, ed. František Palacký (Prague: Domestikální fond království Českého, 1872), p. 140, no. 20.

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In the following narrative, the wild celebrations in the banquet room are contrasted by the measured words and actions that took place. The Rožmberk’s residence in Český Krumlov played witness to a noteworthy ceremony on March 28, 1456: Petr of Vartenberk, a doctor of letters, the Wrocław canon and “syndicus, procurator et nuntius specialis,” announced to Jošt of Rožmberk, the Prior of the Hospitallers, that he was elected Bishop of Wrocław in a speech that began “Veniat dilectus meus.” Rožmberk asked for a night to consider and the following day, March 29 “ante horam prandii” used “Ecce servus domini, fiat michi secundum verbum tuum,” words originating in Scripture, to accept the office. Both parts of the ceremony were attended by lay people and ecclesiastics. These included Oldřich of Rožmberk and his son Jan, clerics with close ties to the Rožmberks and elite Rožmberk officials. Essentially, this is a sample of people who represented the House of Rožmberk to the outside world. Besides the family members themselves, these included representatives of the ecclesiastical and contemporary elite of their domains, and possibly people from the Prague chapter associated with the Krumlov court. They all played more or less the role of active viewers or actors (nothing more than their presence is noted) which is to witness and legitimize the event. That corresponds to their listing in the notary report.39 There is one more aspect that is fundamental: the location of the event. The assembly did not take place in the castle’s large hall, nor in the castle chapel. Oldřich of Rožmberk’s “stubella solite habitationis” was selected as the site. The simple fact that an event so important as the announcement of the election of a new bishop and the acceptance of the post took place in this room cannot be an act of chance. But what was the message? Was the assembly held in a space meant for quiet individual contemplation an expression of humility and true internal piety in contrast to the spectacular public displays of piety in the Catholic Church? How much were rooms of this kind – quiet spaces for isolated contemplation – used in residential castles? The answer is difficult to determine because the sources only mention them sporadically or in passing. For us, this means that “place” had its own meaning alongside “content.” (figure 5.2)

39

Urkundenbuch der Stadt Krummau in Böhmen, vol. II, p. 99, no. 403. On rituals accompanying the election of a bishop see Arnold Angenendt, “Bischofswahl und Bischofsweihe,” in Spektakel der Macht. Rituale im Alten Europa 800–1800, eds. Barbara Stollberg-Rilinger, Matthias Puhle, Jutta Götzmann and Gerd Althoff (Darmstadt: Primus, 2008), pp. 27–31 (based on examples from the early and high Middle Ages).

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Figure 5.2 Peter I of Rosenberg as a donor on so-called altarpiece of Vyšší Brod

3

(Symbolic) Communication

Taken in a narrow definition, communication can be understood as simple verbal conversation (spoken or written), but a broader understanding of the term can include almost anything (a gesture, image, coat of arms, architecture, the internal layout of a burial site, etc.). It is this aspect of communication that is key for us. There is a reason the Middle Ages are labelled as a period where hearing and seeing took on a ritualized role (the distinctive role of sound does not receive enough attention in my opinion, though it must be

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said that the possibilities to rebuild it are much less promising than in the case of visual elements).40 Opportunities to study communication, including oral discourse, are of course limited to what was recorded in writing. That is the basic reason why so much escapes us – backroom negotiations; private eye-to-eye conversations; agreements made on the edge of or beyond the scope of the law; and deals about bribes, nepotism, or other topics that were usually communicated verbally, even if a messenger was used. That is why we know so little about communication at the court – both official and informal – that could have played a key role in specific contexts.41 A number of questions that highlight the unfillable gaps in the chain of our understanding of Medieval communication can be illustrated in one specific case: documents elevating a number of Czech lords, knights, and burghers to the nobility primarily under Emperors Friedrich III and Maximilian I. The sources do not record the mechanisms of communication from the origin of the “narrative” from the original idea of upgrading social status (de jure confirmation of social mobility), to the moment the noble held the document in his hands. This leaves openings for speculation. Elevation as an example of a ceremonial act will be discussed later. 3.1 Address If we begin with the narrowest definition of communication (as a carrier of meaning), how one is addressed is an indicator of social ties and an expression of social distinction. Whether this comes in the form using the formal or informal case or using titles to address an individual, these cases all had their own rules (although it is not difficult to find cases to the contrary). In the former, the formal case was used to address a person higher on the social hierarchy, with the exception of the use of “tvá milost” (Your Grace). The use of the adjective “milostivý” (merciful) had its own rules as opposed to the word “milý.” While “milostivý” is an expression of respect to someone of higher social 40

41

More in Horst Wenzel, Hören und Sehen. Schrift und Bild. Kultur und Gedächtnis im Mittelalter (Munich: C.H. Beck, 1995), Tomáš Borovský, “Zvony a lidé středověkého města. Komunikační funkce zvonů v městské společnosti,” in Komunikace ve středověkých městech, eds. Martin Čapský et al. (Opava: European Social Fund, 2014), pp. 39–52. This is based on what is known of “power” and the influence of hierarchically lower-ranking servants who worked closely with key figures, recently Zdeněk Žalud, “Královští komorníci, dveřníci a vrátní v lucemburských Čechách (s výhledem do 15. století),” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku, vol. III, pp. 461–73. Meteoric rises and falls are another moment of communication at court where we can only list facts and not interpret context.

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stature or those the speaker would like to win over, “milý” designed an informal friendly relationship between social equals or an expression of patriarchal favour among people of different ranks (the royal address “věrný náš milý” (Our loyal and beloved) was shortened to “milý” when relating to a person of lower social stature who would then express their respect with the phrase “pane mně přieznivý”, i.e. my lord benefactor). An individual’s social relations were also denoted by other forms of address – especially the terms “přietel” (friend) and “bratr” (brother), while we can also encounter the title “consanguineous” in late Medieval Czech society. While “přietel” is a form of address that denotes a broad range of relationships (from noble social networks to patrons and specific relations between those with a humanist education and their benefactors), “bratr”, in cases not denoting an address between siblings, was used in much more narrow meanings. It signalled a close relationship between equals; a friendship; an alliance; or a possible close familial relation.42 The titles used to address (usually a lord, knight, etc.) were often accompanied by an adjective like “urozený” (noble), “statečný” (brave), “poctivý” (honest) that individual classes took for themselves while they quietly yearned for the adjective used by their social betters. Devaluation of address by using unearned adjectives or duplicating titles (“připánkati”) muddied the distinctive character of individual types of address, launching a spiralling effort to find further “improvements” to titles and new epithets.43 42

43

A work devoted to the question of address as an expression of social hierarchy does not exist to my knowledge, only Robert Šimůnek, “Prestižní a patetické titulatury – šlechtická hrdost, pýcha, závist i výsměch,” in Evropa a Čechy na konci středověku. Sborník příspěvků věnovaných Františku Šmahelovi, eds. Eva Doležalová, Robert Novotný and Pavel Soukup (Prague: Filosofia, 2004), pp. 307–22; on the range of meanings for the use of “přietel” as address in the context of social relations among Czech nobles Robert Šimůnek, “‘Přietel’ jako kategorie sociálních vztahů ve středověkých Čechách” in Středověký kaleidoskop pro muže s hůlkou. Věnováno Františku Šmahelovi k životnímu jubileu, eds. Eva Doležalová and Petr Sommer (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 2016), pp. 225–36. The question of (unearned) address in the spectrum of insults to personal honour is discussed by Jana Janišová, “Delikt urážka na cti v českém a moravském zemském právu. Právní normy a právní praxe,” in Spory o čest ve středověku a raném novověku, eds. Tomáš Borovský, Dalibor Janiš and Michaela Malaníková (Brno: Matice Moravská, 2010), pp. 69–110, here pp. 87–90. The titles lord, knight, etc., their associated adjectives, and the gradual addition of various epithets thoroughly discussed in works by Josef Macek, especially Josef Macek, Jagellonský věk v českých zemích 1471–1526, vol. II. Šlechta (Prague: Academia, 1994), pp. 9–64; Josef Macek, Česká středověká šlechta (Prague: Argo, 1997), pp. 9–90; on the spectrum of noble titles Šimůnek, “Prestižní a patetické titulatury – šlechtická hrdost, pýcha, závist i výsměch”; especially the title of count (Graf) Robert Šimůnek, “Comes aneb (Dis)

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The extent to which communication was often formalized in the form of address can be documented by the conflicts, complaints, and accusations born from use of the improper form. The importance of maintaining formal rules is also documented by all the cases where the plaintiff was rejected by use of an incorrect title. What is commented with puzzled misunderstanding in the literature today had clear logic at the time: (possibly unintended) violation of formal rules was a threat to the existing hierarchy. That was also the case with the use of formal and informal address where we can also see the difference between the meaning in a ceremony and in other specific situations. Informal address, which could sometimes have been understood as a collective form of address for nobles, was at other times cause for conflict because the person being addressed in the informal believed themselves to be of higher station than the speaker (though both may have been of noble birth). The form of address was on the one hand an expression of social relations (and as such became a source for conflict), but on the other hand it was also a significant variable in both time and location and the specific make-up of the participants.44 We can sum up verbal communication in all its forms – formal and informal, public and private, among people of the same or different social standing, spoken and written – by saying it had a set of rigid rules. Violating the “ritualized” rules meant violating “order.” That is why we can include communication into the scope of our study. 3.2 Nonverbal Forms of Expression There is no doubt that the Czech nobility was well acquainted with gestures and the nuances they expressed, depending on the context and the actors involved in the specific situation. This must have also been true in terms of ceremonial behaviour. These cases include sobbing (and its meaning as its symbolic message differed case by case), greetings, and farewells (as parting without a farewell is also a “message”), as well as the symbolic meaning of dress,

44

kontinuita v pojetí pozdního středověku,” in Od knížat ke králům. Sborník u příležitosti 60. narozenin Josefa Žemličky, eds. Eva Doležalová and Robert Šimůnek (Prague, 2007), pp. 404–22. An example can be found in the petition by Albrecht of Gutštejn (1516) against Adam Stolinský of Kopisty, who “failed to write lord twice.” See Jánský, Hroznatovci a páni z Gutštejna, p. 336, or the anger of Petr of Noskov (1464), when Jan of Rožmberk titled him “slovutný” (famous, renown), because “only a common man is now famous.” Archiv český vol. 14, ed. Josef Kalousek (Prague: Domestikální fond království Českého, 1895), p. 145, no. 1815, which is an exceptional example of devaluation of the associated adjectives. This still under-researched issue is discussed in the excellent study by Gabriela Signori, “‘Sprachspiele.’ Anredekonflikte im Spannungsfeld von Rang und Wert,”, Zeitschrift für historische Forschung 32 (2005), pp. 1–15.

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titles, and insignia.45 How do we treat the sources? How do we evaluate their testimonies? We oscillate between two poles: “verbatim” acceptance of “facts in the sources,” on the one hand; and across-the-board rejection of every document as stylized and therefore “untrue,” on the other hand. We need to realize there was a difference between what took place and what was expressed. I believe that Althoff’s categorization of situations cited in the sources as being accompanied by (ritual) sobbing as a “necessary” part of certain stereotypical and repeated situations can serve as a fundamental framework. In this respect, sections devoted to sobbing and other associated expressions become very topical without us knowing whether the reference to sobbing was simply an empty phrase or a reflection of the actual state of affairs. The question of the ratio between emotionality and convention is unknowable in many cases. Generally, that means the actions depicted in the sources need not be “untrue” in their description. The problem is how to interpret what has been recorded. Certain types of behaviour were evidently part of a reasoned strategy; the meaning of certain gestures could have been to achieve a certain reaction. This is the basic mechanism that determined the behaviour of the medieval nobleman: the form (external expression) was the carrier of meaning.46 45

46

“Ritual crying” is an intrinsic part of describing certain events – see Gerd Althoff, “Der König weint. Rituelle Tränen in öffentlicher Kommunikation,” in ‘Aufführung’ und ‘Schrift’ im Mittelalter und Früher Neuzeit, ed. Jan-Dirk Müller (Stuttgart: Metzler, 1996), pp. 239– 52, or more broadly on (potentially) emotional expressions Gerd Althoff, “Empörung, Tränen, Zerknirschung. ‘Emotionen’ in der öffentlichen Kommunikation des Mittelalters,” Frühmittelalterliche Studien 30 (1996), pp. 60–79, also Mathias Becher, “‘Cum lacrimis et gemitu.’ Vom Weinen der Sieger und Besiegten im frühen und hohen Mittelalter,” in Formen und Funktionen öffentlicher Kommunikation im Mittelalter, ed. Gerd Althoff (Stuttgart: Böhlau, 2001), pp. 25–52; the Czech environment is described in Josef Žemlička, “‘Král jak ubohý hříšník svých poklesků litoval v pláči.’ Václav II., Zbraslav a svatý Ludvík IX.,” in Verba in imaginibus. Františku Šmahelovi k 70. narozeninám, eds. Martin Nodl and Petr Sommer (Prague: Argo, 2004), pp. 193–210 (the stylization of the Zbraslav Chronicle doesn’t need to be stressed, but the framework is suspiciously similar to the death of Louis IX of France, recorded by William of Saint-Pathus). On ceremonies accompanying greetings and farewells Horst Fuhrmann, “‘Willkommen und Abschied.’ Begrüßungsund Abschiedsrituale im Mittelalter,” in Idem, Überall ist Mittelalter. Von der Gegenwart einer vergangenen Zeit (Munich: C.H. Beck, 1996), pp. 17–39, more recent works about the Czech environment Antonín Kalous, “Rituály a ceremonie při setkávání panovníků. Případ Matyáše Hunyadiho (Korvína),” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity, pp. 121–36. On the three seemingly disparate components Nikolaus Staubach, “Signa utilia – signa inutilia. Zur Theorie gesellschaftlicher und religiöser Symbolik bei Augustinus und im Mittelalter,” Frühmittelalterliche Studien 36 (2002), pp. 19–49, here pp. 35–9. The fundamental framework can also be applied to the Czech noble environment and thus agree with Althoff’s view of the issue – cf. Gerd Althoff, “Christliche Ethik und adliges

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3.3 Symbolic Acts If we have to speak repeatedly about how certain ritualistic and ceremonial behaviour was intertwined with everyday life without being recorded in the sources, the same can be said of symbolic acts and the symbolic meaning ascribed to them, or that could be ascribed (only) in certain situations. In terms of funeral symbols, there was the ceremonial breaking of seals and banners (as symbols) placed in the grave during the funeral of the last member of a noble house. The story of the funeral of Petr Vok of Rožmberk († 1611), the last member of a centuries-old magnate family, became well known. The fact that this was an older tradition that was never explicitly recorded before is suggested by a single reference to the breaking of seals and the placing of a shield into the grave of Adam Tovačovský of Cimburk († 1502), who was “interred with his seal, because that house has all perished.”47 The inspiration could have been the spectacular rituals destroying symbols of worldly power that accompanied noble funerals. The symbolic nature of headwear recently described by historians was only documented in individual cases. The spectrum of meaning was rather broad, but the basic principle defined the hat as a symbolic representation of a bond created between two parties by presenting or touching the headwear. That bond could represent the bestowment of rights, office, or property. A royal hat lined with yellow leather was used when presenting a royal feoffee to a new holder; a birreta was presented to a new member of the Prague chapter by the dean as a symbol of the holder’s rank; and a patron lord granted a cleric a benefice by presenting him his hat. Despite the rarity of direct evidence, these acts were undoubtedly stereotypical for the time. They were repeated procedures (ceremonies) that provided the acts with their symbolic dimension (and thus their legitimacy) as something unique and exceptional without which they would lose their meaning.48

47 48

Rangbewusstsein. Auswirkungen eines Wertekonfliktes auf symbolische Handlungen,” in Wertekonflikte – Deutungskonflikte, eds. Barbara Stollberg-Rilinger and Thomas Weller (Münster: Rhema, 2007), pp. 37–49, citing pp. 48–9: „man konnte mit bestimmten Leistungen bestimmte Gegenleistungen aufrufen‟. Paměti Mikuláše Dačického z Heslova, vol. I, ed. Antonín Rezek (Prague: Matice Česká, 1878), p. 64. František Šmahel, “Modrý klobouček ze Sezimova Ústí (Příspěvek k právní archeologii),” Sborník Společnosti přátel starožitností 3 (1992), pp. 85–9; Jan Hrdina, “O klobouku, klericích a patronovi. Netradiční forma prezentace plebána k farnímu beneficiu pražské diecéze na počátku 15. století,” in Církevní topografie a farní síť pražské církevní provincie v pozdním středověku, eds. Jan Hrdina and Blanka Zilynská (Prague: Filosofia, 2007), pp. 199–207.

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We can also list the display of flags (banners) during travel as a completely normal and nearly undocumented ceremony, except in cases where the accompanying circumstances deviated from the norm in some way. In his notes from the diplomatic mission led by Lev of Rožmitál (1465–1467), Gabriel Tetzel records that when they arrived at the famous pilgrimage site of Santiago de Compostella, the participants hung their flags in the church of St. James. The certainty with which the act is referred to leaves no doubt that it was recorded not to mark the act itself, but to record the ritual taking place at a certain location; a destination for pilgrims from across the continent and where nobles regularly left their banners.49 The banner (with the coat of arms) as an attribute of the noble (underlining the importance of the entire ceremony) is clearly visible in Jan Hasištejnský of Lobkovice’s († 1517) tomb effigy; in the banner that a kneeling Jan Zajíc of Házmburk († 1553) was shown holding, as well as the banner being a traditional component of noble burial sites. Banners with coats of arms often appeared on guesthouses and inns to announce the presence of a nobleman. The routine nature of this ritual of noble travel is illustrated by the story recorded by Götz von Berlichingen in his memoirs years after the fact. An enemy of the Kingdom of Bohemia and his allies near Heidelberg intended to attack a Czech diplomatic mission returning from Cambrai. The ambassadors as well as enemies took lodgings in the same town, but the former saw their enemies’ coat of arms hanging from an inn on the town square, and they requested armed guards and quickly left the town (1508).50 Finally, the symbolism of the written word and its transcription also needs to be mentioned. In the given context, this mostly refers to documents with their seals and codes that served either as evidence, demands, or as a stand-in symbol. Documents expressing a recipient’s rights; a text written on a wall at a height where it could not be read; the urbarium as a symbol of noble rights; the book of municipal rights as a personification of civic freedoms used to swear oaths; and also maps. An early example is the single sheet print with the famous map of Bohemia by Mikuláš Klaudyán (1518) in the lower part, and the 49 50

Ve službách Jiříka krále. Deníky panoše Jaroslava a Václava Šaška z Bířkova, ed. Rudolf Urbánek (Prague: Evropský literární klub, 1940), p. 121. At the time Berlichingen only remembered the outline of the story and not definite people; Jánský inferred that the enemy was one of the Gutštejns. Cf. Jiří Jánský, Páni ze Švamberka. Pětisetletá sága rodu s erbem labutě (Domažlice: Nakladatelství Českého lesa, 2006), pp. 258–9.

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figure of the king and heraldic gallery of the land officials in the upper part – all together symbols of the land.51 3.4 Gestures The most economical form of expression were gestures. Their symbolism was (and is) based on “visually expressing the unseen” and the study of gestures is thus based on the expectation that visible phenomena – individuals, images, items, movements, etc. – carry a meaning and are thus part of a complex system of signs.52 Three gestures (the handshake, oath-taking, and kneeling) deserve closer scrutiny. The handshake was one of the most widely-used gestures because it was used in such a broad range of situations, which also reflected its myriad of meanings. Handshakes were used to confirm promises, agreements, friendships, alliances, as well as being a gesture that accompanied greetings and farewells (although it is difficult to show evidence). Of course, there were rigid 51

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On the meaning of “illegible writing” František Šmahel, “Das Lesen der unlesbaren Inschriften: Männer mit Zeigestäben,” in The Development of Literate Mentalities in East Central Europe, eds. Anna Adamska and Marco Mostert (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004), pp. 453–67. Recent work on documents as representative symbols Simon Teuscher, Erzähltes Recht. Lokale Herrschaft, Verschriftlichung und Traditionsbildung im Spätmit­ telalter (Frankfurt am Main: Campus Verlag GmbH, 2007), with a number of examples from practice, or Christoph Friedrich Weber and Christoph Dartmann, “Rituale und Schriftlichkeit” in Spektakel der Macht, pp. 51–5 (an overview of exemplary cases); from the Czech environment Robert Šimůnek, “Svědecké výpovědi a kolektivní paměť v prostředí vesnických komunit. Spor o faru v Kovářově 1491–1492,” in Právní kultura středověku, eds. Martin Nodl and Piotr Węcowski (Prague: Filosofia, 2016), pp. 165–84; comparisons with ennoblement below. Reading maps as only cartographic or geographic documents has been subsumed as described by Paul Zumthor, “Mappa Mundi und Performanz. Die mittelalterliche Kartographie,” in ‘Aufführung’ und ‘Schrift’ im Mittelalter und Früher Neuzeit, pp. 317–27, Martina Stercken, “Kartographien von Herrschaft im Mittelalter,” Rheinische Vierteljahrsblätter 70 (2006), pp. 134–54. The print with Klaudyán’s map http:// chartae-antiquae.cz/cs/maps/49559. Harry Kühnel, “Abbild und Sinnbild in der Malerei des Spätmittelalters,” in Europäische Sachkultur des Mittelalters, ed. Harry Kühnel (Vienna: Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1990), pp. 83–100; Jan-Dirk Müller, “Visualität, Geste, Schrift. Zu einem neuen Untersuchungsfeld der Mediävistik,” Zeitschrift für deutsche Philologie 122 (2003), pp. 118–32, cited p. 118: „dass es sich bei jenen sichtbaren Phänomenen – Körpern, Bildern, Gegenständen, Bewegungen usw. – um Träger von Bedeutung handelt, um Elemente komplexer Zeichenordnungen, …‟. On display of the castle – one of the key noble attributes  – as a representative symbol Robert Šimůnek, “Vyobrazení hradu ve středověku,” in Daniela Dvořáková et al., Stredoveké hrady na Slovensku. Život, kultúra, spoločnosť (Bratislava: Veda, 2017), pp. 139–52.

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rules as to who could shake hands and who could and could not offer a handshake. Handshakes were also used to confirm oaths as seen when a Rožmberk official wrote to his lord: “… as I promised by giving you my hand …”. Extending a hand was often associated with a promise, such as in 1435 when a treaty is confirmed by “shaking hands and clearly and loudly promising.” Handshakes were recorded during the swearing of a loyalty oath to the new sovereign. They also represented reconciliation, not only as an expression of confirming said reconciliation, but also during negotiations as an expression of willingness to reconcile. In specific cases expressing a patriarchal relationship, the handshake could be used in the ritual of granting fiefs, when the liege lord extended his hand to his vassal or took the vassal’s hands into his own.53 Handshakes were used in a wide range of situations, but regardless of the backdrop, they were always governed by a strict set of rules (or else the entire act itself would lose its meaning). This basic principle has been preserved into modernity, and only modern times have devalued and degraded the handshake into an automatic component of basic etiquette. An oath was another “ritual” act that every nobleman encountered and vassal and loyalty oaths were completely commonplace (as discussed in the section on court rituals). In the latter case, it made no difference whether the oath was pledged to a sovereign or to another individual. Any failure of loyalty was a black mark on the individual’s honour no matter how much theory and practice failed to overlap in this matter. Very often, oaths confirmed a promise or obligation, acting as a parallel or alternative to a handshake. They had their irreplaceable role in meetings of the estates, in the elevation to burgher or to municipal councils, and they were an intrinsic part of all court cases.54 Oaths used as confirmation of an obligation or contract could have been pledged on Scripture (“nostrorum singulorum iuramentis in ewangeliis firmavimus et firmamus”), on a cross (e.g. Gerhard of Obřany pledged loyalty to the 53

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The official royal document Archiv český, vol. 7, p. 264, no. 104; document from 1435 Archiv český, vol. 3, p. 439, n. 16; on shaking hands with the sovereign František Kavka, Poslední Lucemburk na českém trůně. Králem uprostřed revoluce (Prague: Mladá fronta, 1998), p. 211; Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály”, p. 160; handshakes as an expression of (willingness to) compromise – documents from an urban environment Michaela Malaníková, “Rozhodčí a smírčí řízení jako součást brněnského městského práva,” in Rituál smíření, pp. 217–24, here pp. 223–4; handshakes in feudal relationships are discussed above. Specialised studies include Gudrun Gleba, “Der mittelalterliche Bürgereid und sein Zeremoniell. Beispiele aus norddeutschen Städten,” Anzeiger des Germanischen Nationalmuseums (1993), pp. 169–75; Malaníková, “Rozhodčí a smírčí řízení,” pp. 220–1, believes the effort to circumvent ritualized and formalised elements that are irrelevant from the fundamental point of conflict could be a reason for resolving conflicts outside courts where similar components were disregarded.

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king on the cross in 1286: “in ligno crucis Dominice iuramento prestito corporali”), or on holy relics (e.g. Albert of Žeberk resigned the Tachov holding in favour of the king in 1297, pledging to not demand any rights to the property: “promittens tactis sacrosanctis reliquiis in altari”).55 Wenceslas III, in accordance with his father Wenceslas II’s deathbed wish, swore an oath to resolve his father’s debts and obligations on the skull of St. Wenceslas and other relics, an oath repeated by Czech noblemen as well.56 An oath was also a form of ceremonial confirmation of a treaty or one of the tools used to guarantee adherence.57 It was possible to pledge while standing or on one knee. In general, an oath taken while kneeling showed subordination, such as when the Austrian duke kneeled and pledged fealty during Wenceslas’s coronation as Czech king in 1297.58 Charvát interprets the right hand placed on the chest as depicted on Jistislav of Chlum’s († about 1300) grave as a “symbolic pledge to God and the King usual for the upper social strata.”59 Kneeling accompanies many situations  – as illustrated above. It was an expression of respect, loyalty, fealty, and subjugation. A person kneeled before the Body of Christ. An uncountable number of nobles are shown kneeling with the hands folded and praying in scenes depicting them as benefactors (votive scenes) and members of spiritual institutions’ social networks. Vassal and loyalty oaths were pledged while kneeling. Bending the knee played a significant role in achieving absolution and forgiveness, whether this was an expression of a sinners’ humility or as an act of ostentatious submission. A structural analogy between the religious and the political ritual is clear. It was a “dialogue” with rigid rules: A gesture of kneeling (subjugation) from one part suggested (demanded) an adequate reaction from the other; mercy and generosity (from God and people alike). This means it was not nor could it be a spontaneous act no matter how much it was supposed to appear as such, but instead was a pre-ordained scene; a key point on the road to reconciliation (following the 55 56 57 58 59

Swearing on the Gospels Jan, “Lenní přísahy,” p. 104; swearing on a wooden cross, p. 105; swearing on holy relics Regesta diplomatica nec non epistolaria Bohemiae et Moraviae vol. 2, ed. Josef Emler (Prague: Typis Grégerianis, 1882), p. 751, no. 1750. Jan, “Lenní přísahy,” p. 109. Miloslav Stieber, České státní smlouvy. Historický nástin (Prague: Bursík & Kohout, 1910), pp. 60–71, oaths (p. 61–6) were included among the suggested elements along with hostages and contractual sanctions (if violated). Dvořáčková-Malá, “Dvorský ceremoniál, rituály a komunikace v dobovém kontextu,” p. 39. Petr Charvát, “Poslední gesto Jistislava z Chlumu,” Sborník Společnosti přátel starožitností 2 (1991), pp. 69–74 (the author refers to the section on oaths in document dated 1264 – but this is a counterfeit from the 15th century, so any value can only be retroactive).

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confessio → satisfactio principle).60 The topic of conflict and reconciliation is popular for research into the detailed study of forms and expressions of symbolic communication in the medieval and later periods. That is no surprise as it is a specific component of social relations that provides exceptional insights. 3.5 Noble Honour The ritual of reconciliation included legally stipulated (de facto ritual) elements of (symbolically) renewed equilibrium. Acts of humility and subjugation can be adequate to the social status of the individual on one side, while on the other they were clearly demeaning in some cases. We can recall an exceptionally detailed case for its time involving humility that ended the blood feud between Mikuláš of Potštejn and the relatives of Prague burgher Peregrin Puš. It was composed of three basic components: the obligation to create posthumous foundations and penitent pilgrimages, financial compensation, and finally, Mikuláš was to walk with 100 individuals from the St. Clement cloister to the home of the widow Eliška (Prague, 1312).61 There is a reason we focus only on conflicts of honour – a certain selection of the entire range of potential conflict situations. Honour was one of the key 60

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These relations are stressed by Barbara Stollberg-Rilinger, “Knien vor Gott – Knien vor dem Kaiser. Zum Ritualwandel im Konfessionskonflikt,” in Inszenierung und Ritual in Mittelalter und Renaissance, ed. Andrea von Hülsen-Esch (Düsseldorf: Droste, 2005), pp. 263–92, here pp. 264–6, and adds the reality that prepared acts of humility and subsequent reconciliation could not be replaced by documents, which we can confirm later in a Czech example. Regesta diplomatica nec non epistolaria Bohemiae et Moraviae, vol. 3, ed. Josef Emler (Prague: Typis Grégerianis, 1890) pp. 29–31, no. 70; Dalibor Janiš, “Smlouva o hlavu. Rituály sporu a smíření ve středověkém zemském právu,” in Rituál smíření. Konflikt a jeho řešení ve středověku, eds. Martin Nodl and Martin Wihoda (Brno: Matice moravská, 2008), pp. 173– 84, here pp. 180–2. A broad range of literature is available about “ritual reconciliation” – such as Gerd Althoff, “Das Privileg der ‘Deditio.’ Formen gütlicher Konfliktbeendigung in der mittelalterlichen Adelsgesellschaft” in Nobilitas. Funktion und Repräsentation des Adels in Alteuropa, eds. Otto Gerhard Oexle and Werner Paravicini (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1997), pp. 27–52 (deditio in relations between lord – nobility/city in the early and high Middle Ages) and Gerd Althoff, Die Macht der Rituale. Symbolik und Herrschaft im Mittelalter (Darmstadt: De Gruyter, 2003), pp. 181–6 (the example clearly shows the ritual deditio was known across the social hierarchy); Klaus Schreiner, “‘Nudis pedibus.’ Barfüßigkeit als religiöses und politisches Ritual,” in Formen und Funktion öffentlichen Kommunikation im Mittelalter, ed. Gerd Althoff (Stuttgart: Jan Thorbecke, 2001), pp. 53–124 (the attributes of the penitent – simple woollen clothing and bare feet), literature listed in Stollberg-Rilinger, “Knien vor Gott  – Knien vor dem Kaiser. Zum Ritualwandel im Konfessionskonflikt”, pp. 263–4, note 1, and from the Czech environment Rituál smíření. Konflikt a jeho řešení ve středověku.

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characteristics of a nobleman (and the chivalric code).62 Honour underlies the history of the period. Its role in the thinking of the late medieval nobility was that of a connector between collective dedication and individual fates.63 Attacks on honour were a threat to a noble’s social status, while the conflict and subsequent reconciliation had to be sufficiently “ceremonial” if only to reflect the seriousness of the situation.64 The cause may have been an insult directed at either a living person or their (possibly deceased) family members, or any other disrespect of social status – whether verbally (such as by doubting the house’s history; by saying some form of “I’m better than you”; or through simple use of the informal case as mentioned above), or through gestures (these included vulgarities, failure to yield, and remaining seated either on a chair, bench, or horse in a given situation). To deny one’s own honour, to forsake one’s own honour or the honour of one’s ancestors, or even to lack any sense of honour at all, are all cases that appear rather often. The explanation is obvious: an attack against one’s honour or putting it into doubt was a degradation of social capital and status, which actually took place rather frequently. These could be either various public complaints and accusations or private patriarchal commentaries. In the 62

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Honour as associated with social status was discussed by Robert Novotný, “Čest a urozenost v mentalitě pozdně středověké šlechty,” in Spory o čest ve středověku a raném novověku, eds. Tomáš Borovský, Dalibor Janiš and Michaela Malaníková (Brno: Matice Moravská, 2010), pp. 54–68 (and other studies in the same book). The extensive foreign literature includes Verletzte Ehre, Ehrkonflikte in Gesellschaften des Mittelalters und der Frühen Neuzeit, eds. Klaus Schreiner and Gerd Schwerhoff (Cologne: Böhlau, 1995); Claudia Garnier, “Injurien und Satisfaktion. Zum Stellenwert rituellen Handelns in Ehrkonflikten des spätmittelalterlichen und frühneuzeitlichen Adels,” Zeitschrift für historische Forschung 29 (2002), pp. 525–60. Discussed among others by Sven Rabeler, Niederadelige Lebensformen im späten Mittelalter. Wilwolt von Schaumberg (um 1450–1510) und Ludwig von Eyb d. J. (1450–1521) (Würzburg: Gesellschaft für Fränkische Geschichte, 2006). The author’s research is primarily based on the works of Ludwig von Eyb the Younger, which represents an almost encyclopaedic volume that reflects the noble mentality around 1500. It’s certain that honour played a fundamental role in this category. Analogously to the early modern period, where noble conflicts were recently studied in detail by Jana Janišová, Šlechtické spory o čest na raně novověké Moravě (Edice rokové knihy zemského hejtmana Václava z Ludanic z let 1541–1556) (Brno: Matice moravská, 2007); Janišová, “Delikt urážka na cti v českém a moravském zemském právu. Právní normy a právní praxe” – both of which studied older periods as well, add information about the topic from the late Middle Ages, although here we are forced to extract individual cases from rather extensive source materials. It’s also necessary to list precedential cases closely associated with noble honour, see Robert Novotný, “Spory o přednost ve středověku a na počátku raného novověku” in Rituál smíření, pp. 185–202.

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former case, the verbal form oscillated between a matter-of-fact accusation, a public complaint with the goal of forcing fulfilment, or an expressive text loaded with vulgarity (“lající listy”). Images were also employed on occasion. An example of the latter can be seen in the records kept by the administrator Hilarius of Litoměřice, when he urged Jan of Rožmberk to step away from the heretical and denounced King Jiří of Poděbrady: “Hope that for your soul, honour, house, reputation, health and wellbeing etc. that you cannot be found to be anything other than a pure and Christian lord” (1467). Honour is listed second, only behind the salvation of one’s own soul.65 The duel is inseparably associated with the defence of noble honour. However, we cannot find any mention of a “thrown gauntlet,” a gesture that in our mind is an intrinsic part of the duel; but on the contrary the presenting of gloves acted as a stand-in for a handshake and a promise of peace.66 In association with the topic of rituals and ceremonies, a duel could be understood on two basic levels: the fringe of chivalric culture, or as trial by ordeal. In the first case, a duel could be understood as an opportunity to repair a “balance” that was violated. The second case, trial by ordeal, could have had the same cause as the first.67 In both cases, we can see the duel in a narrow understanding as a bout with the goal of symbolically decided/ending a conflict and we can set aside cases where one or both parties pulled their rapiers in passion (the frequency of such cases led to duels being forbidden). The duel as described above – which a modern person has the tendency to view through a Pushkin-esque romantic eye  – is an ancient institution. A duel between (St.) Wenceslas and Kouřim Prince Radslav  – which did not actually take 65

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Archiv český, vol. 6, pp. 115–7, no. 5, 6; Matthias Lenz, “Rechtsstreit, Kommunikation und Öffentlichkeit im späten Mittelalter. Das Beispiel der Schmähbriefe und Schandbilder,” in Propaganda, Kommunikation und Öffentlichkeit (11.–16. Jahrhundert), ed. Karel Hruza (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2002), pp. 189–205 (Czech analogies can be found to individual types). Martin Nodl, “Zaniklý svět rukavic. Kosmas, Gall Anonym a knížecí gesta,” in Středověká Evropa v pohybu. K poctě Jana Klápště, eds. Ivana Boháčová and Petr Sommer (Prague: Archeologický ústav AV ČR, 2014), pp. 397–405. Recent studies of duels as a tool of conflict resolution include Garnier, “Injurien und Satisfaktion”, pp. 549–57 – where the author views the duel as a “Tauschbörse adligen Ehrkapitals”, which is closely related to the transformation of the sphere of symbolic communication among the late medieval and early modern nobility as a result of banning duels. – The situation in Hungary was very different from the Czech one, where duels were an often-used (legal) tool to resolve conflicts up to the 16th century. Daniela Dvořáková, “Súboj jako spôsob riešenia sporov o česť v stredovekom uhorskom práve,” in Spory o čest ve středověku a raném novověku, pp. 46–53.

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place – was the symbolic end to the Legend of the Monk Kristian (Kristiánova legenda) from the 10th century.68 The personification of battles and political conflicts into duels between rulers was not unusual. A famous scene on glazed tiles from the castle Kyšperk depicts a duel between two sovereigns: the Czech and Roman kings interpreted to be Ottokar II and Rudolf Habsburg at the Battle on the Marchfeld (1278).69 There are several reports of duels from the 15th century associated with honour and its defence in one form or another. There is the case of a duel taking place with hostages on both sides. The goal was to resolve the conflict over honour between Jan Děčínský of Vartenberk and Mikuláš of Lobkovice (1456). A row over pre-eminence between Procek of Kunštát and Hynek of Bítov (1457) nearly resulted in a duel and attracted significant attention at the time. It is mentioned by Eschenloer and Silvio (although in his account it was a “de nobilitate” conflict between Jiří of Poděbrady and one of the members of the Černohorský of Boskovice family, where the men challenged each other to a duel).70 Butzbach recalls a duel between a certain earl and a Czech nobleman (neither is mentioned) where the former saw himself above his opponent because of his title. The story claims the earl, who challenged his rival in love to the duel, also surpassed him in property and wealth.71 The final example comes from 1508 when Jindřich of Gutštejn was challenged to a duel by Jaroslav of Šelmberk, whom he called a “traitor without exception” and his father said he “was only stable boy at Bouzov.”72 However, there is also later evidence of duels associated with trial by ordeal. At first glance, this may appear as a relic of ancient legal practices, but the truth is that trial by ordeal, thought to be wiped out in the early Middle Ages, can 68 69 70

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After Radslav saw a shining holy cross on his opponent’s forehead, he threw down his weapon and fell to Václav’s feet. Cf. Kristiánova legenda. Život a umučení svatého Václava a jeho báby svaté Ludmily, ed. Jaroslav Ludvíkovský (Prague: Vyšehrad, 1978), pp. 100–3. Vladimír Kaiser, “Gotické kachle z hradu Kyšperka,” Ústecký sborník historický (1979), pp. 45–59. On the first case Archiv český, vol. 4, ed. František Palacký (Prague: Domestikální fond království Českého, 1846), p. 560, no. 407; Jan Urban, Lichtenburkové. Vzestupy a pády jednoho panského rodu (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 2003), pp. 323–4; the second is mentioned by Robert Novotný, “Úloha zemského soudu pro formování panského stavu,” in Šlechta, moc a reprezentace ve středověku, edd. Martin Nodl and Martin Wihoda (Prague: Filosofia, 2007), pp. 241–50, here pp. 248–9; Novotný, “Spory o přednost,” pp. 187, 202; Aenae Silvii Historia Bohemica, eds. Dana Martínková, Alena Hadravová and Jiří Matl (Prague: Koniasch Latin Press, 1998), p. 248. Dvořák, Humanistická etnografie Čech, p. 45. In detail Jánský, Páni ze Švamberka, p. 246.

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be seen in rural areas up to the 16th century. These duels were used at Prague Castle as part of court cases that could not be adjudicated at the beginning of 1516. The protagonists were Hynek Boček of Kunštát and Volf of Gutštejn. The conflict was over Hynek’s (unresolved) guilt or innocence in the killing of Kryštof of Gutštejn at Hynek’s Polná (1515). The matter was to be resolved through an unusual ordeal. Both participants had a special dispensation from the land diet and the event sparked a noteworthy amount of interest. Zdeněk Lev of Rožmitál wrote at the time that lords from Moravia and elsewhere were planning to attend the melee. It is a shame that nothing more is known about the combat, its result, and its interpretation. We only know for sure that both men survived.73 3.6 Gifts – Trifles – Bribes Gifts were among the most significant tools/forms of expression in the social communication of the day. Gifts had a broad range of levels of meaning. A small gift was a symbolic gesture expressing unselfish friendship, while osten­ tatious gifting was an expression of the social status of the giver as well as the receiver.74 There were also gifts of reconciliation and gifts that expressed patriarchal favour (as a visualization of the social hierarchy). Municipalities would present the sovereign with gifts, as well as other magnates, upon their visits (a certain compensation for the effects of the visit on the city’s coffers  – because the price of gifts increased expenditures stemming from the guest’s complimentary room and board  – was municipal privilege or other concessions that were confirmed or expanded during such events).75 The last category 73

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Jánský, Hroznatovci, pp. 314, 384. The letter of Rožmitál from January 1516 Archiv český 7, pp. 135–6, no. 147: the writer mentioned the battle between both lords, which was extensively covered with the addendum: “it then seems to me, that they nor others should be allowed through the gates of Prague Castle, if they have not been sent to the diet by the king” and later also mentions the necessity to occupy the Castle “for the honesty of king and for any thing” – as if the controversy could escalate into an uncontrolled battle between the backers of both parties. Gifts mirror the social standing of the giver and receiver – it was standing in the hierarchy that determined the gift and its value. Cf. Martin Nejedlý, Fortuny kolo vrtkavé. Láska, moc a společnost ve středověku (Prague: Aleš Skřivan ml., 2003), pp. 74–7; the role of gifts in contemporary royal representation is captured by Jan Dubravius, Theriobulia – Rada zvířat, eds. Miroslav Horna and Eduard Petrů (Prague: Academia, 1983), pp. 90–4, gifts ordered by estates in the context of royal meetings are discussed in Kalous, “Rituály a ceremonie při setkávání panovníků.” If accounting materials survived, then they became a repeated focus of cultural historical interest since the 19th century and thus a well-known topic – it’s enough to reference two recent works: both deal with 15th century Central Europe and “mandatory” gifts that reflect contemporary trends. Miloslav Polívka, “Říšské město Norimberk a

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of gifts offers insight into “mandatory” gifting, but the truth is that gifts were “mandatory” for other occasions as well. Not presenting a gift meant violating norms and the order of things. Therefore, gifts were always “mandatory” to a certain extent as an expression of social status and thus we can call it ceremonial gift giving. The only exception were truly personal gifts given unselfishly and voluntarily. Finally, there were gifts meant as bribes – a “gift” given to an official, chamberlain, or anyone else with the goal of acquiring an (unfair) advantage. A time­ less phenomenon, they were already very much at home in the Middle Ages where there were sophisticated analyses of the difference between a gift and a bribe. Gifts were located somewhere on the murky border between a polite trifle, an expression of favour, and a bribe. For example, Emerich d’Amboise, grand master of the Knights Hospitallers, was presented with a silver chalice from the lords of Rožmberk in 1506. At the same time, the succession to the office of head of the Czech priory (Jan of Švamberk) was discussed, an office coveted by Jan III of Rožmberk. The reason for the confluence of events here is more than clear.76 The monetary value of the gift was secondary in terms of what it symbolised (de facto the social relationship between the giver and receiver). Oftentimes, the gifts were of little value, especially in relation to the social status of the recipient. Consumables, especially well-known or coveted ones, were a widespread and very prestigious type of gift, such as certain types of wine and mead or treats like almonds, figs, and even salmon among fish. Gifts of game are widely recorded, which often had their own symbolic meaning: If there was an animal felled by a noble hunter, it was usually noted in the accompanying letter. There was also prestige in hunting dogs or birds as gifts, which were also widespread. Gifts of household items, clothing, or jewels (more on that below) were much less frequent among nobles and gifts of books and manuscripts are shrouded in mystery. (figure 5.3)

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jeho dary králům Svaté říše římské (Ruprecht Falcký, Zikmund Lucemburský a Albrecht Habsburský),” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku vol. III, pp. 293–304; Lenka Bobková, “Přivítat a pohostit. Holdovací cesta krále Ladislava do Horní Lužice roku 1454” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku vol. III, pp. 253–69. Regardless of whether we’re discussing gifts or bribes – they were as common as they were necessary; a mechanism captured by Petr Kozák, “‘Citharedo cum cane saltante ad mandata domini principis dedi …’ Všední den na dvoře hlohovského a opavského vévody Zikmunda Jagellonského” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku III, pp. 223–39, was generally valid. Especially after 1506 when d’Amboise approved Jan’s membership in the order regardless of the conditions for electing the general prior and confirmed his succession at the same time. Simona Kotlárová, Jan III. z Rožmberka 1484–1532. Generální převor johanitského řádu v Čechách a vladař rožmberského domu (České Budějovice: Veduta, 2010), p. 45.

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Figure 5.3 A boar hunting, Codex Manesse

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The above pertains to people on the same social level, which needs to be noted. It was not exceptional to give gifts to people of lower social stature (it should be noted that it was not without strict barriers – with the exception of cases or true personal friendship) as an expression of favour and to underscore the existing hierarchy. These include all “gifts to loyal men,” which was in essence an expression of a patriarchal relationship. The sharing of honey, wine, and game on New Year’s (which pragmatically can also be understood as part of payment in kind) is an expression of noble sovereignty over the courtiers and a sign of favour as well as collective identity and belonging to the same social circle (or court in this case).77 Testamentary gifts can be understood in a similar symbolic level as an expression of a personal relationship. More interesting than simple lump sum payments are the enumerated gifts in the form of clothing, armour, or specific pieces of jewellery or pottery.78 Gifts were often used as symbolic communication on the level of political relationships. Gifts to envoys were an expression of respect and possibly favour to those they represented. Besides consumables (wine, food) and payment of bills at establishments, gifts of jewellery and horses were common expressions of favour as well. The case of the Bamberg Bishop meeting with Christoph von Thein demonstrates how gifts to envoys became a matter of honour and thus important. Von Thein was given horses and new clothing and the Margrave Friedrich, who was also present, received 50 gold pieces (1508).79 In some cases at least, gifting was accompanied by demonstrative humility where the recipient at first repeatedly refused the gift or was offered the option of choosing 77

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An interesting methodological analysis of a group of gift recipients at the Burgundian court around 1400 (no analogous research could be considered in the Czech environment) showed how far this symbolic moment – gifting as an expression of favour – can contribute to court careers. Jan Hirschbiegel, “Zeichen der Gunst. Neujahrsgeschenke am burgundischen Hof zur Zeit König Karls VI. von Frankreich (1380–1422),” in Menschenbilder – Menschenbildner. Individuum und Gruppe im Blick des Historikers, eds. Stephan Selzer and Ulf Christian Ewert (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2002), pp. 213–40. Division of moveable property (clothing, undergarments, dishware, jewellery etc.) specifically bequeathed to certain benefactors in widow’s wills, especially in cities and from the estate of both noble and burgher women, as published in the article by Martha C. Howell, “Fixing Movables: Gifts by Testament in Late Medieval Douai,” Past & Present 150 (1996), pp. 3–45. The condition of the surviving sources is what prevents us from performing similar reconstructions, especially in the case of nobles: individual exceptions can be found in the inventory of Jan II of Rožmberk († 1472) created in 1475, which proves that some clothing and weapons and some armour from Jan’s estate were gifted to Rožmberk officials and servants. Milena Hajná, “Pozůstalostní inventář Jana II. z Rožmberka. Příspěvek ke studiu každodennosti českého aristokrata v pozdním středověku,” Jihočeský sborník historický 71 (2002), pp. 155–84, here pp. 168–71, 174–6, 184. Jánský, Páni ze Švamberka, pp. 257–8.

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the gift himself. The conventions of the time dictated choosing a gift of little value. Lev of Rožmitál requested two Mores from the King of Portugal just because the king considered them worthless. He added two horses and the king’s brother contributed a monkey (1466).80 The situation surrounding donations of relics was rather sophisticated and oftentimes can only be recreated at a hypothetical level. The primary political role was clear: the gifting of a relic was an expression of favour and could also be confirmation of reconciliation if the situation applied. One known case that took place in the Czech environment deserves attention for its impact on the future, especially in relation to Charles IV. His passion for relics included their effective use as a medium for political communication.81 3.7 Visualization of Social Status Social standing and noble birth firmly placed the nobleman within the social hierarchy, serving among the defining attributes of his self-worth. The zeal nobles used to demonstrate their status and how they jealously defended it is not at all surprising in light of the importance these aspects had for the social standing of the individual. Generally, the visual component of fixed social structures and relations is stressed and its importance is demonstrated by conflicts the merits of which could be debated.82 For a starting point in discussing non-verbal communication used to visualize social hierarchy, we can recall Stollberg-Rilinger’s statement that each 80 81

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Ve službách Jiříka, pp. 111–2. There is extensive literature covering the ownership and gifting of holy relics, e. g. Carola Fey, “Zu Schmuck und Zierde, zu Trost und Heil. Sakrale Schätze und ihre Inszenierungen an bayrischen Fürstenhöfen,” in Fürstenhof und Sakralkultur im Spätmittelalter, eds. Werner Rösener and Carola Fey (Göttingen: V & R Unipress, 2008), pp. 125–40 (with bibliography); Michael Lindner, “Eine Kiste voller Knochen – Kaiser Karl IV. erwirbt Reliquien in Byzanz. Zugleich ein Beitrag zur Datierung zweier Karlsteiner Reliquienszenen,” in Kunst als Herrschaftsinstrument. Böhmen und das Heilige Römische Reich, ed. Jiří Fajt (Berlin: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2009), pp. 289–99. A Bohemian case from a mid-14th century noble environment with a suggested power politics background was described by Robert Šimůnek, “Karel IV. a páni z Rožmberka v 50. letech 14. století. Rituály moci a hledání modu vivendi,” Husitský Tábor 17 (2012), pp. 69–103; Martin Bauch, “Einbinden – belohnen  – stärken. Über echte und vermeintliche Reliquienschenkungen Kaiser Karls IV.,” in Soziale Bindungen und gesellschaftliche Strukturen im späten Mittelalter (14.–16. Jahrhundert), eds. Eva Schlotheuber and Hubertus Seibert (Munich: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013), pp. 79–111. The topic is covered in a broad framework by Karl-Heinz Spiess, “Rangdenken und Rangstreit im Mittelalter,” in Zeremoniell und Raum, ed. Werner Paravicini (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1997), pp. 39–61. The work is limited to the German environment and as the political subtext of the case about social status is stressed, not all the forms and levels where social relations occur have been exhausted.

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public scene evoked the entire social order. She used a sovereign’s entrance (adventus regis) as an example. This did not demonstrate the relationship between the sovereign and the city, but the social hierarchy within the city where the political, religious, economic, and social aspects were inseparable.83 “Space in the Medieval World” is a popular topic in medieval studies despite analysis of the minutia of communication and other relations between people in individual spaces oftentimes seeming to target only a narrow swath of highly-specialized experts.84 The following, however, will limit itself to the real world where the position of a specific person (in a given space and in relation to other actors) oftentimes had a fundamental meaning. The “place in space” logically had (and has) a specific context that made it a representative symbol for the individual and an expression of his (possibly even legal) status.85 It was a visualization of “a place in social hierarchy” and the related conflicts and rivalries created in this respect. The basic principle was still the same across the social hierarchy from a rural church to the land and imperial diets.86 If we examine conflicts over seating at imperial diets in the late Middle Ages, we can imagine completely analogous situations at gatherings on lower social levels. Just like there were tendencies within the Empire to ignore Charles’s measures on the seating of the electors and the Czech king, the “seating charts” 83

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Stollberg-Rilinger, “Symbolische Kommunikation,” citing p. 522: “Es kennzeichnet die Kommunikation der Vormoderne, daß Recht, Politik, Religion, Wirtschaft etc. nicht als selbständige gesellschaftliche Funktionssysteme ausdifferenziert waren. Das heißt: Bei jeder öffentlichen Inszenierung wurde stets das Ganze der gesellschaftlichen Ordnung symbolisch evoziert.” A recent synthesis from the Czech environment on the question of adventus regis by Robert Antonín and Tomáš Borovský, Panovnické vjezdy na středověké Moravě (Brno: Matice moravská, 2009). Of the texts seen as comprehensible for a broader audience, I would cite Susanne Höfer, “Zur räumlichen Makrostruktur der adeligen Lebenswelt im ‘Welschen Gast’ des Thomasin von Zerklaere,” in Raum und Konflikt. Zur symbolischen Konstituierung gesellschaftlicher Ordnung in Mittelalter und Früher Neuzeit, eds. Christoph Dartmann, Marian Füssel and Stefanie Rüther (Münster: Rhema, 2004), pp. 39–57. The early Middle Ages and periods even further in the past have shown to be the origin of phenomena that extend throughout the medieval period according to research – for a visualisation see Gerd Althoff, “Demonstration und Inszenierung. Spielregeln der Kommunikation in mittelalterlicher Öffentlichkeit,” Frühmittelalterliche Studien 27 (1993), pp. 27–50; Jan Zelenka, “‘… huius sedis a dextris sit imperatoris.’ Spory o přednost v hierarchii císařského dvora vrcholného středověku,” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku, vol. III, pp. 57–71. Orders of church pews could be used as an example – by right they were understood as a reflection of social hierarchy, not only because it was not a status codified once and for all, but a reflection of current order as a result of factors working in parallel. Gabriela Signori, “Umstrittene Stühle. Spätmittelalterlicher Kirchengestühl als soziales, politisches und religiöses Kommunikationsmedium,” Zeitschrift für historische Forschung 29 (2002), pp. 189–213.

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of later gatherings tended to reflect the current political situation and ambitions of individual participants than an unbroken tradition.87 Židek’s oft-cited surprise that “with my eyes I saw the lord of Rožmberk sitting below and far away from lord Zdeněk Kostka” is on the one hand a typical example of this type of statement, but on the other hand reflects the problem with sources where a single testimony serves as the only witness to the event. However, the entire section deserves attention: “the high and wise people are oppressed and mocked by the rabble and blasphemed as the low climb higher.” This certainly represents the reality of the time, which can be documented in specific cases, but for our purposes the more serious part follows: the newly wealthy mock the ancient but poor, differences in attire are not upheld, etc.88 This indicates the importance of visualizing hierarchy in the contemporary understanding (from all participants), not to mention the latter wanted to declare their social status with the same expressive tools at the expense of the former, whose deteriorating property meant the threat of losing status as well. We can also notice the close connection between “special relations” and verbal communication and gestures. These combine for very descriptive repeated use of symbolic expressions of the individual’s status when in the presence of another person, even of higher stature. Remaining seated represented a lack of a superior/subordinate relationship or expressed their special status (based on familial relations or other reasons).89 The use of the word “fúkání” (scornful whining) is also noteworthy, as its meaning has not changed in almost five centuries. Noblemen were confronted with visualizations of the social hierarchy in various environments (their residences, the sovereign’s court, on their travels, etc.) and in various situations (diets, meetings, weddings, funerals, tournaments, etc.), which created their own “place in space.” The elementary model for visualizing social hierarchy can also be applied to the spectacular execution of Jan Roháč of Dubá and others captured with him at Sion (1437). Symbolising hierarchy using nooses hung at various heights reflecting the social status of the condemned was a firm part of Sigismund’s demonstration of power. Other 87

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Gabriele Annas, “Repräsentation, Sitz und Stimme. Zur fürstlichen Stellvertretung auf Reichsversammlungen des späten Mittelalters,” in Politische Versammlungen und ihre Rituale. Repräsentationsformen und Entscheidungsprozesse des Reichs und der Kirche im späten Mittelalter, eds. Jörg Peltzer, Gerald Schwedler and Paul Töbelmann (Ostfildern: Jan Thorbecke, 2009), pp. 113–50. M. Pavla Židka Spravovna, ed. Zdeněk V. Tobolka (Prague: Česká akademie císaře Františka Josefa pro vědy, slovesnost a umění, 1908), pp. 11–2. Cf. Spiess, “Rangdenken und Rangstreit,” p. 43; on the relations between nobility, honour, and poverty Novotný, “Čest a urozenost v mentalitě pozdně středověké šlechty,” pp. 56–8.

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elements served to underline this intention, like golden or rusty shackles, and a golden noose for Jan Roháč.90 4

Conclusion

Much about the past eludes us and always will. We have a number of events and stories where we know the beginning, circumstance, the end, and the result. What came in between, the connecting tissue that formed, remains unknown. Sometimes we only know the result – a fragment that leaves us to fill in the blanks of the story. The following paragraph will deal with ennoblement as a typical example of a case where we will define what we believe and how those ideas compare to the facts and the ability to recreate the contemporary reality. The limits that prevent our greater understanding of ennoblement are characteristic not only for many other events, but also stem from events that are cyclical in nature. In this case, we do not know how to discuss the matter because we do not know what led to ennoblement (i.e. what came before), nor are we familiar with the actual “ennoblement ritual.” We only have the undisputed facts in ennoblement documents issued by the Czech kings, or those that were also often issued to Czechs by Roman kings. The development of all communication (in the broadest sense of the term) that preceded the issue of ennoblement documents remains unknown and leaves us only with hypotheses. This not only concerns the magnates (who could not resist the allure of belonging among counts or being a free imperial noble). We have knights (e.g. the Vencelíks of Vrchoviště) and burghers (such as the Glac of Krupka or Silvester Perger, originally a burgher of Rožmberk nad Vltavou) who accepted ennoblement from Roman kings. If we try to examine the symbolism of the ennoblement documents, then we need to be based in what we know about documents as a representative symbol in general: that the ritual presentation of standards was replaced by the presentation of documents. The example is an exceptional case, but its basic framework will serve the purpose: the ceremony presenting Giangaleazzo Visconti (1395) with his ennoblement documents organized by Beneš of Choustník on request form King Wenceslas IV.91 90 91

Petr Čornej and Bohdan Zilynskij, “Jan Roháč z Dubé a Praha. Konec Jana Roháče – pověst a skutečnost,” Pražský sborník historický 20 (1987), pp. 35–61, here especially pp. 54–7 (the same on the stated parallel visualisations). Robert Novotný, “Od veřejné prezentace k zlistinění, od rituálu k formalizaci. Úvahy nad proměnami nejstarší nobilitační praxe,” in Jiří Brňovják et al., Nobilitace ve světle písemných pramenů (Ostrava: Ostravská univerzita, 2009), pp. 75–83, here pp. 81–2, with evidence of fundamental literature about ennoblement in the late Middle Ages.

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The rituals and ceremonies a Czech noblemen encountered were nothing more than a reflection of his place in the social hierarchy from which they evolved and which they served. Understanding the nobility as a homogenous category can be done in an elementary framework where everything above and beyond was a matter of the social context one found oneself in. We constantly encounter declaration of social status, such as conflicts over noble honour in the micro-environments of the rural gentry, that were in principle identical to those we are familiar with among the magnates. Gestures, words, and nonverbal communication were the same, while the environment and the public differed, as did the expressions. The foundations, however, were the same. Weddings, funerals, tournaments, and hunts  – regardless of the various levels of opulence (corresponding to the environment and participants) – were always about the same thing: a declaration of adherence to an estate and a corresponding way of life. Trips abroad by Czech nobles also expressed social status and played a significant role in the context of rituals and ceremonies. These could have been diplomatic missions, court service, for learning (there are a growing number of Czech nobles working at foreign courts throughout the 15th century, and as the time passed, study for a semester or two at a foreign university became part of a proper education), or a pilgrimage or trip of discovery. It is often difficult to differentiate because pilgrimages to famous sites from the Czech kingdom required weeks of travel the noble could use to expand their horizons, taking in the lives of the locals in foreign countries and prominent pilgrims included visits to foreign courts in their itineraries.92 The level of interest provided to individual components of the observed reality was of course dependent on the level of intellectual ability and the traveller’s personal interests. In any case, nobles travelled and whether as participants or observers, they took part in rituals that were often stereotypical and had the same framework of meaning despite the local specifics. They understood them and could introduce the external form to their home environments. 92

Presenting these experiences in the form of diaries or memoires is naturally very selective – from the Czech environment we can cite (besides the repeatedly cited Šašek’s and Tetzel’s diaries) the travelogue by Jan Hasištejnský of Lobkovice, who wrote down a testimony of his travels to the Holy Sepulchre (1493) with details from notes that were no doubt created during the trip. Hasištejnský z Lobkovic, Putování k Svatému hrobu; an entertaining account of Jan’s travels come from Petr Hlaváček, “Náboženské a ‘turistické’ rituály poutí do Svaté země anebo cesta Jana Hasištejnského z Lobkowicz do Jeruzaléma,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity, pp. 339–45. Methodological inspiration in this direction can come from three case studies form the 15th century – Steffen Krieb, “Zwischen Dienst und Fest. Zur Wahrnehmung von Fürstenhöfen in Selbstzeugnissen reisender Adeliger des Spätmittelalters” in Mittelalterliche Fürstenhöfe und ihre Erinnerungskulturen, pp. 65–88.

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The ceremonies and rituals in the lives of nobles were socially mandated not by their framework of meaning, but by their external forms. That includes the phenomenon called chivalric culture, which we touched upon slightly several times. The divide between proclaimed adherence to chivalric ideas (beginning with the chivalric literature and exhibitions that oscillated between courage in the face of opponents and courtly relations with the noblewomen present), and their real projection into daily life is so wide that it is cause for pause, but only upon first glance. In reality, these were parallel worlds: enthusiasm for chivalric ideals and their demonstration carried social status (such as the practice of knighting), and not their actual use in real life (if the opposite were true, Don Quijote would have never been created).93 Not everyone had their own Heinrich von Freiberg. If Jan of Michalovice had not invested into his own memoirs at the end of the 13th century and paid the scribe, his travels would have most likely been forgotten. The fact that he ordered a celebratory text also demonstrates the importance of self-presentation in the manner suggested.94 Even the degenerated chivalric ideals still carried weight. What does it matter that the crusades for the liberation of the Holy Sepulchre became relatively comfortable and safe Prussian campaigns, where the fight against the pagans was preached only pro forma? When advancing Christianity lost its lustre, campaigns against the heretical Czechs would offer the same indulgences as a crusade to the Holy Land. The same intentions to commit chivalric acts were declared and confirmed through the taking of an oath – on a pheasant; another form of a political ritual.95 93

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Cf. Wojciech Iwańczak, “Wychowanie rycerskie w średniowiecznych Czechach,” in Nauczanie w dawnych wiekach. Edukacja w średniowieczu i u progu epoki nowożytnej. Polska na tle Europy, eds. Wojciech Iwańczak and Krzysztof Bracha (Kielce, 1997), pp. 175–86; Wojciech Iwańczak, “Husitské války a etika doznívajícího rytířství,” in Jan Žižka z Trocnova a husitské vojenství v evropských dějinách (Tábor: Albis international, 2007), pp. 183–94, suggests that the Hussite wars were one of the milestones in chivalric culture because some expressions (chiefly the tournament and hunts – noble status symbols) continued to be popular (which can be understood as the form dissipating slower than the content). Arnošt Kraus, Jan z Michalovic. Německá báseň třináctého věku (Prague: Bursík & Kohout, 1888). The noteworthy connections between the end of ‘Prussian travels’ and the beginning of crusades (into Bohemia) was pointed out by Werner Paravicini, “Von der Preußenfahrt zum Hussitenkreuzzug,” in Beiträge zur Militärgeschichte des Preussenlandes von der Ordenszeit bis zum Zeitalter der Weltkriege, ed. Bernhart Jähnig (Marburg: N.G. Elwert, 2010), pp. 121–59; Michel Margue, “Ein Fest am Hof. Das Ritual der ‘Vogelgelübde’ als politisches Medium,” in Dvory a rezidence ve středověku, vol. III, pp. 129–47.

Chapter 6

Episcopal and Legatine Rituals and Ceremonies Antonín Kalous Bishops were among the central personalities of the Kingdom from both the spiritual and the secular points of view. They belonged to the spiritual and secular echelons and were also granted various authorities – both spiritual and secular. That is why we can find bishops in the presence of kings and other power elite, as well as in the presence of common people; and this is why bishops are often actors of various ceremonies, celebrations and rituals based particularly on this dual status. A bishop is, however, primarily a representative of the Church. Church life in the Middle Ages is full of rituals and ceremonies. In this regard, the area of Central Europe is no exception. Especially in the 14th and 15th centuries, the issue of Church development already resonated with the situation in the more developed areas of Western Europe and the Mediterranean, where Church life and Church institutions had been in progress organically for a much longer time than in Central Europe. The Moravian Church, i.e. the Diocese of Olomouc, was drawn closer to the development of the general Church especially thanks to the long pontificates of the 13th-century bishops Robert (1201–1240) and Bruno of Schauenburg (1245–1281). Bishop Andrew (1214–1224) had a similar influence in Bohemia, but more significant changes were brought about to the Prague Bishopric only by the long pontificate of John IV of Dražice in the early 14th century (1301–1343).1 The number and extent of dioceses is enough of a hint in many respects: the Bohemian lands, formed as a state in the first half of the 14th century, had only four dioceses. There were several evident consequences of this fact for the rank of bishop as well as the status of individual bishops. Firstly, the number of bishops in the Kingdom was relatively low. The difference between the Bohemian lands and the part of Europe already possessing a long tradition of 1 Václav Medek, Osudy moravské církve do konce 14. věku (Prague: Ústřední církevní nakladatelství, 1971), pp. 78–106; Libuše Hrabová, Ekonomika feudální državy olomouckého biskupství ve druhé polovině 13. století (Prague: Státní pedagogické nakladatelství, 1964); Libuše Hrabová, “Biskup Bruno ze Schauenburgu a hospodářské přeměny na Moravě ve XIII. století,” in Sága moravských Přemyslovců. Život na Moravě od XI. do počátku XIV. století (Olomouc/ Brno: Vlastivědné muzeum v Olomouci/Muzeum města Brna, 2006), pp. 145–52; Zdeňka Hledíková, Biskup Jan IV. z Dražic (1301–1343) (Prague: Karolinum, 1991).

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Church organization development is most evident if comparing the Bohemian lands to Italy. In order to show the large number of dioceses in 15th-century Italy, Denys Hay compared their amount – that was 263 plus 10 in Sicily and 18 in Sardinia – to those in France (131) and the British Isles (67).2 The Bohemian lands and their four bishoprics could not compete with the above mentioned countries in the number of bishops at all; not even with the neighbouring but much larger kingdoms of Poland and Hungary, which had a higher number of bishoprics.3 Even though the amount of diocesan bishops was supplemented in the late Middle Ages with auxiliary bishops (two or three for Prague and one in each of Olomouc, Litomyšl and Wrocław), they constituted a very limited group within the Czech Church hierarchy and Czech society.4 A very substantial stroke to the body of Czech episcopate was the Hussite Reformation; it was one of the reasons why the seat of the Prague Archbishop remained vacant for one and a half century and the bishopric in Litomyšl practically ceased to exist. Olomouc and Wrocław thus remained the only two active bishoprics in the Lands of the Bohemian Crown. The development of the Czech episcopate during the 14th and 15th centuries was not at all easy. That is why more and more foreign bishops were active in the Bohemian lands at that time. They sometimes had to perform the bishop’s tasks regardless of whether they had been sent there by a Council, by the pope or the monarch of a neighbouring country, or had converted to Utraquism without any approval of their secular or spiritual superiors.5 Apart from foreign bishops, the auxiliary bishops and other Church dignitaries of Czech origin holding the episcopal rank abroad were also present in the country.6 Also, 2 Denys Hay, The Church in Italy in the Fifteenth Century (London: Cambridge University Press, 1971), p. 10; cf. also David S. Peterson, “Religion and the Church,” in Italy in the Age of the Renaissance, 1300–1550, ed. John M. Najemy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), pp. 59–81, here p. 62. 3 Elemér Mályusz, Egyházi társadalom a középkori Magyarországon (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1971), pp. 171–85; Erik Fügedi, “Hungarian Bishops in the Fifteenth Century,” in Acta Historica Academiae Scientiarum. Hungaricae XI (Budapest: Institute of History, 1964), pp. 375–91; András Kubinyi, Főpapok, egyházi intézmények és vallásosság a középkori Magyarországon (Budapest: METEM, 1999); Władysław Abraham, Organizacya kościoła w Polsce do połowy wieku XII (Lviv, 1890); Jacek Wiesiołowski, “Episkopat polski jako grupa społeczna,” in Społeczeństwo Polski średniowiecznej, vol. IV, ed. S.K. Kuczyński (Warsawa: Akademia Podlaska w Siedlcach, 1990), pp. 236–95; Jacek Maciejewski, “A középkori lengyel püspöki kar mint társadalmi csoport a középkorban,” Aetas 22 (2007), pp. 135–41. 4 Zdeňka Hledíková, “Biskup,” in Člověk českého středověku, eds. Martin Nodl and František Šmahel (Prague: Argo, 2002), pp. 139–165, here pp. 144–5. 5 Josef Macek, Víra a zbožnost jagellonského věku (Prague: Argo, 2001), pp. 118–38. 6 Of these two categories I mention at least two significant personalities of the fifteenth century: bishop of Nicopolis William of Kolín, auxiliary bishop of the Olomouc diocese, see

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it is necessary to take into account – since the end of the 15th century – the bishops of the Unity of the Brethren; their public activities were, however, considerably limited.7 Apart from bishops, there was also another party influencing significantly the Church – that is, the representatives of papal authority. Especially legates de latere and similarly papal envoys (in particular nuncios with the authority of legates de latere, who achieved the same authorities although they did not possess such a crucial position, as they were not cardinals) influenced the development of the Czech Church and interfered with the authority of diocesan bishops. Their activities are known especially from the period of crusades against the Hussites, but they also had an important and more systematic role for the Church administration with regard to its spiritual, as well as judicial and secular aspects. In addition, their significant position as direct representatives and impersonation of the pope (in case of legates de latere) brought an essential aspect to the Church life within a diocese, which was also reflected in special Church ceremonies and rituals.8 Even though they were not a systemized part of the Czech (or diocesan in general) Church environment, their occurrence here was relatively frequent, and so they brought new elements and other forms of the top-level Church ritual. Their ceremonial was derived directly from the papal ceremonial practiced in Rome, or generally in the concurrent seat of the pope. Both bishops and legates had their sacral function along their secular governance within the diocese and  – especially in case of bishops  – with the secular service to the rulers, the Kings of Bohemia. Bishops were top representatives of the Church, which constituted the fundamental part of the medieval society and the medieval state. Bishops could also achieve other offices at the court not directly connected to the bishop’s office; often they accompanied the ruler and thus belonged, secondarily, to the decision makers of the country even in secular matters. A part of the bishop’s active work comprised the service to the king at meetings of the royal council and participation in crucial court events, welcoming foreign envoys and negotiations with them, etc. In addition, they frequently and easily became royal Jaroslav Dřímal, “Biskup Vilém z Kolína,” ČMM 55 (1931), pp. 1–42; and bishop of Cammin (Kamień Pomorski), Benedict of Valdštejn, see Antonín Roubic, “Benedikt z Valdštejna, olomoucký probošt a biskup v Pomořanech – Benedictus episcopus Caunicensis in Marchia,” Vlastivědný věstník moravský 44 (1992), pp. 45–57. 7 Macek, Víra a zbožnost, pp. 286–335. 8 Cf. Antonín Kalous, Late Medieval Papal Legation: Between the Councils and the Reformation (Rome: Viella, 2017).

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diplomats and as such they were sent all around Europe with important delegations. Bishops thus frequently took part even in celebrations not directly connected to their bishop’s rank within the Church hierarchy: court feasts, diplomatic ceremonials, royal rituals – all these occasions could hardly take place without the presence of a Church representative – that is, a bishop or an archbishop. If a legate was present in the country at that time, he also commonly participated in such events, despite not having a direct connection to the ruler. The ceremonial and bishop ritual itself was, however, performed on the liturgical level, although taking place outside the Church service and the sacral area of a church. 1

The Bishop’s Rank and the Bishop’s Ritual

Research in rituals is limited – particularly regarding the early periods – mainly to sources of normative character. There is a variety of texts and instructions on how to proceed in liturgy, how to behave in diplomatic services, how to manifest one’s position, etc. The hierarchical echelon of the Church is no exception in this regard, as in cases connected in any way to liturgy, there was no need to record thoroughly the particular rituals and ceremonies in historical reports, chronicles and diaries, as it was presumed that those performing them proceeded in accordance with precise, correct and valid instructions. Only exceptionally do we find a more detailed description of the situation: mostly in case of a non-standard or non-traditional concept of rituals or a problematic incident.9 The situation is similar concerning the engagement of high Church dignitaries in diplomatic services of rulers or the pope. There were also thorough behaviour instructions: these were often based on general diplomatic manuals or, particularly in the case of legates, they were defined separately. They will be mentioned later.

9 Quite extraordinary, however, is the papal liturgy, that was recorded in detail especially since the second half of the fifteenth century by papal masters of ceremonies (magistri ceremoniarum), like Agostino Patrizi Piccolomini, Johannes Burckard, Paride Grassi and Blasio da Cesena for the end of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. The latter three wrote their Roman diaries, where the real procedure of the rituals was recorded and not only the ideal form. The diary of Burckard is published in full, that of Grassi only partially. For the manuscripts and other ceremonial books see Pierre Salmon, Les manuscrits liturgiques latins de la Bibliothèque Vaticane, vol. III, Ordines Romani, Pontificaux, Rituels, Cérémoniaux (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1970).

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Rituals connected to liturgical function included the form of the bishop’s self-presentation. Bishops were responsible for the religious life of the believers within the entrusted diocese; their function was therefore mainly sacral. The chronicler Francis of Prague provided an apt account of bishops: “Rarity gives things their value, so there is nothing more valuable and desirable in the Church of God than a good and competent shepherd and bishop who, like an Angel of the Lord, clarifies, purges, improves and governs his subjects on the way of eternal goodness; who cares for them and settles all matters obviously concerning body and soul.”10 An even more accurate definition of the bishop’s role was provided by Zdeňka Hledíková: “A bishop becomes a bishop by his authorization to a specific sacral function. It is achieved in a special act by which he becomes a co-holder of a uniform episcopal office. This is not a tautology: in this case, the concept of office does not imply an administrative institution, but a set of particular authorizations and tasks. These bishop’s authorities and tasks are delegated to an individual by the act of ordination. By receiving the ordination and thus also part of the office, every bishop becomes an active and liable participant in the accomplishment of a sole, time-indefinite aim; that is, bringing all mankind to Christ. To fulfil this mission, every bishop has a full, non-delegated, sacramental and tutorial power.”11 By acquiring the episcopal office, bishops took responsibility for their diocese and for the authority within it through ordination, which enabled them to perform certain sacramental tasks, ordinations and consecrations, as well as to perform specific episcopal liturgy and the like.12 From the beginning, bishops were the main organizers and administrators of individual religious communities and the most important representatives of the church. Of course, the bishop’s office underwent a quick development, but even in the oldest times the authority of bishops consisted of various components. According to modern research, these included the spiritual, ascetic, and pragmatic authorities. The spiritual authority obviously comes from God – its holder received the Spirit from God. The source of the ascetic authority is the practice of the individual’s devout life in itself; the third, pragmatic authority comes from the individual’s activity but, unlike the 10 11 12

Chronicon Francisci Pragensis, ed. Jana Zachová, frb S. N. I (Prague: Historický ústav AV ČR, 1997), p. 41. Hledíková, “Biskup” pp. 140–1. Cf. Robert L. Benson, The Bishop-Elect (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1968), pp. 6–10.

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ascetic authority, this activity is aimed at the benefit of others.13 The image of the proper life of a bishop was based, not only at that time but also in the later Church, on the New Testament. Particularly the First Letter to Timothy details the characteristics of an ideal bishop.14 Even though this passage is frequently cited by the later tradition, it formulates an ideal which is difficult to achieve. It is not possible to generalize on the basis of personal qualities. All bishops were nevertheless members of a general episcopal office which provided them not only with a share on the sacramental power, but also with participation in the episcopate of the Catholic Church. There was a new social group based on ordination and a particular role within the Church, possessing common features, rights and manifestations; its role was necessarily determined both in the secular society and the environment of the increasingly centralized Church. Its members presented themselves particularly with their sacramental, judicial, and administrative role within the local dioceses.15 Liturgical tasks that were related only to the bishop’s office (that is to those possessing the bishop’s ordination) are described in a special liturgy book – a Pontifical. Unlike a Missal, which is focused on mass in general, as well as the ritual describing ceremonies and tasks of a priest and a deacon, the Pontifical included only those liturgical tasks performed by a bishop. Medieval Pontificals were not completely unified and their texts developed throughout the centuries.16 There is no space for a more elaborate analysis here. It is sufficient 13 14 15

16

Claudia Rapp, Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity. The Nature of Christian Leadership in an Age of Transition (Berkeley/Los Angeles/London: University of California Press, 2005), pp. 16–7, studying these concepts in detail on pp. 23–152. 1 Tm 3, 2–7; for the oldest interpretations and commentaries see Rapp, Holy Bishops, pp. 32–41. An overview in Vincent Tabbagh, “Le corps épiscopal,” in Structures et dynamiques religieuses dans les sociétés de l’Occident latin (1179–1449), eds. Marie-Madeleine de Cevins and Jean-Michel Matz (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2010), pp. 135–46; James Burns, “Fullness of Power? Popes, Bishops and the Polity of the Church 1215–1517,” in The Medieval World, eds. Peter Linehan and Janet L. Nelson (London/New York: Routledge, 2001), pp. 534–52; I.S. Robinson, “The institutions of the church, 1073–1216,” in The New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. IV, c.1024–c.1198, part 1, eds. David Luscombe and Jonathan Riley-Smith (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 368–460, esp. pp. 431–60. For the pontifical in the high and later Middle Ages, see Le pontifical romain au moyen-âge, vol. I, Le pontifical romain du XIIe siècle, vol. II, Le pontifical de la curie romaine au XIIIe siècle, vol. III, Le pontifical de Guillaume Durand, ed. Michel Andrieu, (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1938–1940); Agostino Patrizi Piccolomini and Johannes Burckard: [Pontificalis liber] (Rome, 1485) (also available from Herzog August Bibliothek

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only to note that the crucial texts were created as the Roman Pontifical; its content was most significantly influenced during the late Middle Ages by one of the most famous canonists of the 13th century, Guillaume Durand. His version of the Pontifical underwent further adjustments. Particularly popular was the version by two papal masters of ceremonies, Agostino Patrizi Piccolomini and Johann Burckard, printed in 1485. With slight adjustments, this text remained the basic version of the Pontifical until the liturgy changed at the Second Vatican Council.17 A characteristic feature of Durand’s Pontifical (as well as his two successors) is the division of the text into three parts: the first part dealt with blessing and ordination of people, the second considered blessing and consecration of objects and the third was dedicated to sacraments and Church ceremonies. All tasks incorporated here required the presence of one or more bishops and thus formed their main activity in the field of liturgy (of course, on the basis of their priesthood, even bishops followed the Missal and other liturgy books; these were, however, not specific for their activities). (figure 6.1) 2

The Church Environment

As we can see, the Pontifical was a book directly and unconditionally setting the procedure of rituals performed by bishops, by which they presented the sacral nature and the power of their office. In the first place, bishops safeguarded the proper functioning of their diocese; that is, they ensured having a sufficient number of priests (and other clerics with various degrees of ordination) able to perform holy service and mediate the sacraments. The procedure of these rituals is of course reflected in the Pontifical; there are no known sources recording the particular actions during such ordination in the Czech environment.18 The blessing and ordination of people did not, however, include only these ordinations, but also the ordination of a bishop, the blessing of an abbot and

17 18

Wolfenbüttel, ); for the changes of the fifteenth century, see Marc Dykmans, Le pontifical romain révisé au XVe siècle (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1985). For the Czech situation briefly Blanka Zilynská, “Ceremoniál středověkých synod. Kanonické předpisy a česká realita konce středověku,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity ve střední Evropě 14. a 15. století, eds. Martin Nodl and František Šmahel (Prague: Argo, 2009), pp. 481–93, here pp. 484–5; Eva Doležalová, Svěcenci pražské diecéze 1395–1416 (Prague: Historický ústav AV, 2010), pp. 36–41. Cassian Folsom, OSB, “The Liturgical Books of the Roman Rite,” in Handbook for Liturgical Studies, vol. I, Introduction to the Liturgy (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1997), pp. 245–314, here pp. 296–300. For that according to the pontifical, cf. Doležalová, Svěcenci, pp. 43–8.

Episcopal and Legatine Rituals and Ceremonies

Figure 6.1 A bishop lays his hands on priests’ heads

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an abbess and of the objects related to the performance and presentation of all the three offices mentioned, as well as the blessing and coronation of the king and the queen. The first and the last case – that is, the ritual of achieving the office of a bishop or the king, conveyed a variety of meanings, so they were crucial not only for the participants of these rituals themselves, but also for the inhabitants of the Kingdom, as the two top offices were being taken up and their holders could make decisions pertaining to the destiny of individuals. The bishop’s ordination, which, according to canon law, was due at the latest three months after the bishop’s election,19 was a crucial ritual by which some functions were delegated to the bishop. The reason for “some” functions is that the office of a bishop had two main parts, the first of which was sacral. All bishops became holders of sacramental and teaching powers that equipped them with the right to grant various sacraments and gave them a share on the responsibility for Church leadership. Only diocesan bishops, however, became ordinaries of their dioceses thanks to their ordination; that is, they got the jurisdictional authority in matters entrusted by privilegium fori to the authority of Church courts. In addition, the securing of the bishop’s office brought also the secular government of the bishop over the properties of the bishopric. Delegation of this bishop’s task, the bishopric’s administration, was subject to extensive discussions of canonists. In general, it may be said that it was performed already by the confirmation of the election of a particular bishop.20 The ordination itself was performed in the presence of other bishops, who laid their hands on the head of the bishop-elect, handing over to him the power entrusted to them. The oldest part of the bishop’s ordination ritual was the laying of the hands of all bishops present on the head of the candidate,21 which was followed by a prayer of the priests and the people in attendance. The act of laying of hands itself was the most important part, as it confirmed the continuity of the general bishop’s office. The acceptance into the group of other bishops was affirmed by a kiss of peace; what followed was a mass celebrated by the new bishop. Very soon, a requirement occurs that the new bishop be ordained by three bishops at least. The bishop’s ordination was one of the most elaborate rituals recorded in the Pontifical. In addition, the ritual underwent a number 19 20

21

Cf. D. 75 c. 2 (Corpus Iuris Canonici, vol. I, Decretum Magistri Gratiani, ed. Aemilius Friedberg (Leipzig: Bernhard Tauchnitz, 1879), cols. 265–6). In relation to the canon law, see esp. Benson, The Bishop-Elect, pp. 23–149, who follows the whole discussion of the canonists of the twelfth and the beginning of the thirteenth centuries. Cf. also Robinson, “The institutions of the church,” pp. 441–5; Hledíková, “Biskup,” pp. 140–1. Cf. D. 23. c. 7 (Corpus Iuris Canonici, vol. I, col. 82).

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of changes over the centuries. In the Middle Ages, new elements were added: holding the Gospel book over the head of the ordained ones during the prayer, a litany at the beginning of the celebration, examination (scrutinium) on Saturday evening and ordination on Sunday, the enthronement after the kiss of peace, as well as unction of the nominee’s head, later also of his hands and the right thumb, blessing and the handing over of the ring and the crosier. In the Roman Pontifical of the 12th century, the handing over of a Gospel book was added, as well as covering the candidate’s head during unction, a sacrificial procession and a wish ad multos annos. In the 13th century, another part of the ritual was added by Guillaume Durand, namely the invocation of the Holy Spirit during the laying on of hands at the beginning, and another prayer to the Holy Spirit during hand unction, as well as the handing over of a mitre and gloves. The whole ritual concluded by singing Te Deum laudamus. In the modernized Pontifical of 1485, there were no substantial changes to the liturgical part. Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard emphasized the approval of the Apostolic See for the ordination, which was indispensable. They also added a chapter on pallium.22 Apart from these regulations, a form of divination was practiced: its tool was the aforementioned Gospel book, as obvious from a longer citation below. At a bishop’s ordination, it was not unusual that the Gospel book was opened on the shoulders of a lying candidate (or even by himself) and a randomly found passage was read, becoming thus a prophecy.23 The most detailed description of the ceremony of a bishop’s ordination is provided in the Chronicle of Francis of Prague:

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Lexikon des Mittelalters vol. 2, col. 236–7 (Klemens Richter); Hledíková, “Biskup,” pp. 141–2. For the detailed texts, see Le pontifical romain au moyen-âge, vol. I, pp. 138–52; vol. II, pp. 351–68; vol. III, pp. 374–93; Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols. [30v–57r]; about the changes in the ordination of bishops at Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, see Dykmans, Le pontifical, pp. 113–4. For the kiss of peace, cf. Hanna Vollrath, “The kiss of peace,” in Peace Treaties and International Law in European History: From the Late Middle Ages to World War One, ed. Randall Lesaffer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 162–83, here p. 168; and in political context of peace-making only, see Kiril Petkov, The Kiss of Peace: Ritual, Self, and Society in the High and Late Medieval West (Leiden: Brill, 2003). In Czech context on ordination of bishops, Eva Doležalová, “Svěcení biskupů ve světle středověkých pontifikálů české provenience,” in Co můj kostel dnes má, nemůže kníže odníti, eds. Eva Doležalová and Petr Meduna (Prague: Lidové noviny, 2011), pp. 188–96. Cf. C.S. Watkins, History and the Supernatural in Medieval England (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), p. 142. The ritual is called sortes biblicae and it was common in the twelfth-century England, but there are also mentions in the Bohemian lands, e.g. during the ordination of the bishop of Olomouc Bavor in 1199, cf. Dějiny Olomouce, vol. 1, ed. Jindřich Schulz (Olomouc: Univerzita Palackého v Olomouci, 2009), p. 102 (Jan Bistřický).

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So, by the providence and grace of God, the reverend Father John IV, the twenty-seventh Bishop of Prague, son of Gregory of Dražice, was elected the Bishop of Prague in 1301 AD, under the reign of his Serene Highness prince Wenceslaus II, the sixth King of Bohemia and Poland. During his election, the King and the noblemen of the Kingdom, as well as the clergy and all the people delightedly and joyfully gave profuse thanks to the Heavenly King. Then, the King gave the elected one a golden ring with a very precious emerald stone of the estimated worth of eight hundred marks, by which the ordaining bishop decorated the elected one during the act of ordination. And Oldřich, the Provost of Prague, told the King: ‘As the Prague Bishop is entitled to hunt freely in the royal forests, let His Royal Highness approve that I shall take care of hunting the venison for the celebration of the elected.’ And the King replied: ‘We want to hunt for him ourselves.’ And so he did with success, as one day preceding the ordination, he sent three carriages full of various kinds of venison to the elected one, and arranged many other necessities for the upcoming celebration as well. So John IV was ordained with enormous splendour and honour on Sunday when ‘the People of Zion’ is sung [10 November 1301] in the Prague church. The King and other princes and magnates of the Kingdom were very happy to participate, as well as the clergy and all the people. Then, the King graciously gave the bishop his sceptre and orb decorated with gold, thus granting him the regalia – that is, the princehood. Then, the Book of Gospels was brought and the King commanded the bishop to open the book with his right hand. The Gospel read on the twelfth Sunday appeared, which says: ‘He has done everything well. He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.’ Then, when they saw it, everybody thanked God for such an excellent and great prince and bishop, and praised the Heavenly King. And when the service of God was over, the King and the bishop dressed in the bishop’s vestment and crowned with a mitre rode horses along with a great many noblemen into the bishop’s court, where the King took the reins of the bishop’s horse and led it through the gate while saying in a clear voice: ‘May the Lord watch over you every time you come and go from this time forever.’ And after a joyful and delightful talk, a feast took place: tables were set and filled with plenty of the finest dishes, and all senses, both inner and outer, were refreshed, as the many men and prelates and selected clergymen in a great variety of various chasubles gathered there. Also the subject people who came on this proclaimed glorious day received both spiritual and physical comfort.24 24

Chronicon Francisci Pragensis, frb S. N. I, pp. 41–2.

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This is how the chronicler describes, certainly with literary embellishments, the ordination of John IV of Dražice, the Prague Bishop, who held the office for more than forty years. The records of the episcopal ordination can often be found in sources from the late Middle Ages, as these celebrations were of vital importance for the diocese. These records are, however, usually much less detailed than the text cited above, which still does not provide much information about the act of ordination and the procedure of the Church ritual itself. Only the duality of the bishop’s office is illustrated by the interference of the secular ruler, who directly grants the symbols of secular power to the bishop. John’s immediate successor to the seat of the Bishopric of Prague was Ernest of Pardubice, who soon became the first Prague Archbishop. His ordination took place in 1343, but due to partial disapproval within the Prague Chapter, he let himself be confirmed and ordained in Avignon. The ceremonial act was performed there by the Cardinal-Bishop of Porto, Jean-Raymond de Comminges.25 The promotion to the rank of an archbishop, which took place one year later, did not require any further ordination; however, a ritual had to take place confirming the extension of the bishop’s authority to the new ecclesiastical province in Prague: the bishop was granted an archiepiscopal pallium,26 which “embodies the fullness of the archbishop’s rank and name,” as stated by Beneš Krabice.27 He also recorded – even though very briefly – how the pallium was brought to Prague and how Ernest of Pardubice was inaugurated in the new office. As he accounts, “a great, even the greatest joy” occurred in the Prague church, the clergymen sang Te Deum laudamus while the people sang Kyrie eleison. After Ernest was inaugurated in the office, the participants moved to an excavation at the Prague Cathedral to lay the foundation stone of a new Prague Cathedral.28 A similar situation probably occurred in the case of Ernest’s successor, as John Očko of Vlašim also previously held the office of a bishop: he was the Bishop of Olomouc ordained by Ernest of Pardubice in 1352 in the Prague Cathedral. After Ernest’s death in 1364, he was elected by the Prague Chapter and in the request issued by the young king Wenceslaus IV for John’s approval by Pope Urban V, he was claimed a postulatus (that is, an elected bishop, who 25

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Chronicon Francisci Pragensis, frb S. N. I, pp. 182–4; Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, ed. Josef Emler, frb IV (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1884), p. 493, Beneš explains the leaving for Avignon by the fact that the Archbishop of Mainz was excommunicated, but that happened only later, on 7 April 1346; Zdeňka Hledíková, Arnošt z Pardubic. Arcibiskup, zakladatel a rádce (Prague: Vyšehrad, 2008), p. 34. For legal connotations, see Benson, The Bishop-Elect, pp. 167–89. Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, p. 494, “… pallium archiepiscopale, in quo plenitudo dignitatis et nominis archiepiscopalis consistit.” Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, p. 495.

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is prevented from performing his office by a canonical restriction, in this case by holding another bishopric). He was then transferred to the seat of the Czech province as the Prague Archbishop and he received his pallium from the Bishop of Speyer.29 The procedure of handing over the pallium according to the Roman Pontifical of 1485 was as follows: the pallium was handed over to the archbishop (or patriarch) by two bishops. After the mass in the main church of the province, following the communion, bishops laid the pallium on the altar. When the mass ended, they sat in front of the altar and accepted the pledge of allegiance from the elected archbishop in the name of the Apostolic See. All of them wore bishop’s attire including mitres. After the vow, both bishops stood up, took the pallium from the altar and the older one laid it on the shoulders of the elected archbishop. Then the archbishop, not wearing a mitre, stood in front of the altar and blessed the people.30 So much for the normative source. But let us get back to the bishop’s ordination. In the year of Ernest’s death, a big shuffle took place among the bishops in the Bohemian lands; surprisingly, this did not lead to any new ordinations. John Očko changed his seat from Olomouc to Prague; the Olomouc see was taken by John of Středa, since 1353 the Bishop of Litomyšl; and his seat was in turn taken by Albert of Šternberk, who had held the office of the Bishop of Schwerin in Mecklenburg. As the bishops were transferred, they were only presented with their new offices; this also confirms the greater importance of the ordination for a general bishop’s office. The ordination as such took place only once. Pope Urban V affirmed this personnel earthquake within the Czech Church by his bulls of 23 August 1364.31 There are more records of ordinations; these, however, do not provide any details. Although Pontificals state that bishop’s ordination be performed by a metropolitan – that is, an archbishop, it was not always the case. For example, the Olomouc Bishop Pavel of Miličín was ordained in Brno on Sunday July 31, 1435 by the legate of the Council of Basel Bishop Philibert,32 who later took the 29 30 31

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Monumenta Vaticana res gestas Bohemicas illustrantia [hereafter MVB], vol. III, Acta Urbani V. (1362–70), ed. [Bedřich Jenšovský] (Prague: Královský český archiv zemský, 1944), p. 210, no. 357; see also Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, pp. 521, 532. Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols. [56v–57r]. MVB, vol. III, pp. 213–6, nos. 365–7; cf. also MVB, vol. III, pp. 217–8, nos. 369–71, 28 August 1364 (a permission for the three bishops to rule over the new dioceses before publishing the actual papal letters). Cf. e.g. Medek, Osudy moravské církve do konce 14. věku, pp. 126–32; František Kavka, Vláda Karla IV. za jeho císařství (1355–1378), vol. 2, (1364– 1378) (Prague: Univerzita Karlova, 1993), pp. 11–3. Johannis de Turonis Regestrum actorum in legationibus a sacro concilio in Boemiam, ed. Ernestus Birk (Monumenta conciliorum generalium seculi decimi quinti, Concilium Basiliense [hereafter mc], Scriptorum, vol. I) (Vienna, 1857), p. 809; cf. Dějiny Olomouce, vol. 1, pp. 227–8; about Philibert see further.

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place (but not the office) of the Prague Archbishop. He had already been welcomed by the Bishop-Elect of Olomouc in May 1435 in Brno, when the legate had come to negotiate with the Czech party.33 In 1454, Bohuš of Zvole was ordained by the Wrocław Bishop Peter II, assisted by the Wrocław auxiliary bishop John Gardensis34 and William of Kolín, the auxiliary bishop of the Olomouc diocese.35 Six years later, the Wrocław Bishop Jodocus of Rožmberk ordained the Bishop-Elect of Olomouc Prothasius (Tas) of Boskovice.36 In contrast, the Olomouc Bishop Stanislav Thurzo ordained his brother John to the office of the Bishop of Wrocław in 1506 and was assisted by John Filipec, the former Bishop of Várad (Oradea) who entered the Franciscan friary in Wrocław, and the titular Bishop of Nicopolis Heinrich Fullenstein, an auxiliary bishop of Wrocław.37 The Olomouc Bishop John Ház was ordained in Vienna in 1451 by the Bishop of Siena Enea Silvio Piccolomini.38 The non-compliance with the rule of ordination by the metropolitan is obvious already at the end of the 13th century, when the Olomouc Chapter requested the Archbishop of Mainz to permit the ordination of the new Bishop-Elect of Olomouc Dětřich (Theoderich) of Jindřichův Hradec to be performed in Prague by the Prague Bishop. The Chapter was aware that the ordination should be performed by the metropolitan, but they sent their request considering the great distance and the danger on the roads. The election was reportedly published and announced correctly; and Te Deum laudamus was sung more solito.39 The bishop’s ordination could also become a great court celebration, as in the case of John IV of Dražice. Francis of Prague mentioned another great feast following the ordination of the first Bishop of Litomyšl John: 33

34 35 36 37 38 39

Johannis de Turonis Regestrum, p. 791: “Die Veneris, XX Maii intrauerunt domini Brunam, et fuerunt obuiam ipsis electus Olomucensis cum clero et populo processionaliter cum reliquiis, crucibus etc., cantando „te deum laudamus,‟ ad collegiatam ecclesiam ducentes dominos”; cf. also Thomae Ebendorferi de Haselbach Diarium gestorum per legatos concilii Basiliensis, ed. Ernestus Birk, mc I, p. 747. This is the title of the bishops of Greenland, who were still installed at this time, cf. Conradus Eubel, Hierarchia catholica medii aevi, vol. 2 (Monasterii, 1914), pp. 157–8, 280. Sigismund Rosicz, Sequuntur gesta diversa transactis temporibus facta in Silesia et alibi, ed. Franz Wachter, srs XII (Wrocław: Josef Max & Komp., 1883), p. 68. Alois Vojtěch Šembera, Páni z Boskovic a potomní držitelé hradu boskovického (Vienna: Spisovatel, 1870), p. 64; Medek, Cesta české a moravské církve staletími (Prague: Česká katolicka charita, 1982), p. 161. Samuel Benjamin Klose, Darstellung der inneren Verhältnisse der Stadt Wrocław vom Jahre 1458 bis zum Jahre 1526, ed. Gustav Adolf Stenzel, srs III (Wrocław: Josef Max & Komp., 1847), p. 385. Dějiny Olomouce, vol. 1, p. 230. Codex diplomaticus et epistolaris Moraviae vol. IV, ed. Antonín Boček (Olomouc: Alois Škarnitzl, 1845), pp. 245–8, no. 181 (here p. 247); cf. Medek, Osudy moravské církve do konce 14. věku, p. 107.

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At the same time, the Litomyšl abbot was ordained a bishop by the above mentioned archbishop, becoming his subordinate together with the bishop of the church in Olomouc. A very sumptuous and costly feast was therefore arranged in the Royal Palace of the Prague Castle for bishops, all prelates and canons, as well as all the clergy of the many churches, and everyone present. After it was over, the Prague Archbishop, with honest mind and cheerful face, gave presents and gifts to the bishops, as well as to others present, who then went back home with many thanks.40 The new Prague Archbishop gave presents at the solemn feast in the same way all secular rulers did at their feasts. The bishop’s ordination was therefore not only a Church ritual by which the new bishop became part of the sacred office, but also a secular celebration by which he received the secular property of the bishopric, as well as a new leading social position of a new prelate. In order to commemorate consistently the importance of the bishop’s ordination within the Church sphere, a festive mass took place annually on the day of the anniversary; this mass was described separately in the Pontifical and naturally it contained prayers for the bishop and his successful tenure in the entrusted office.41 As stated above, more bishops take part in the bishop’s ordination. Apart from the bishop-elect who becomes a bishop by the act of ordination, there were the ones who ordained him: according to the Pontifical, these included the main consecrator and his two assistants. In all the other rituals described in the Pontifical, the bishop is naturally the one who ordains, consecrates or performs unction and blessing. Some of the most important rituals related to the active role of the bishop at unction or ordination of a particular person were appointed to various levels of ecclesiastical orders: four lower levels (porter, lector, exorcist and acolyte) and three upper levels (sub-deacon, deacon and priest).42 The highest of these, ordination of priests, consisted of the presentation of deacons to be ordained, reading the Scriptures, a reference to the priestly power and an exhortation of the nominees. Then, the bishop laid his hands43 on the heads of the individual nominees: this was the most important 40 41 42 43

Chronicon Francisci Pragensis, frb S. N. I, p. 184. Le Pontifical, vol. 3, pp. 393–4. Le Pontifical, vol. 3, pp. 338–73; Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols. [7r–30v]. This act was also kept by the bishops of the Unity of Brethren, when they confirmed their elders, as the Catholic sources note, cf. Jaroslav Goll, “Některé prameny k náboženským dějinám v 15. století,” in Věstník Královské české společnosti nauk I (1895), I, p. 7: “Item episcopus eorum confirmat adultos per inposicionem manuum et oracionem fratrum simul conveniencium.” Cf. also pp. 3–10 about rituals and ceremonies and their refusal.

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act of granting the sacramental power transferred through the apostolic succession from the original Church. Other elements of the ordination were prayers, unction of hands and fingers, reading the Gospels, communion and blessing.44 The ritual of priest ordination was a crucial Church celebration of the diocese that took place several times every year. The canon law did not define a specific place for ordination – the only important feature is the sacral area of a church. As the analysis of Prague ordination lists from the years 1395–1416 compiled by Eva Doležalová shows, most frequently it took place in the metropolitan church of St. Vitus or in another Prague church. Other most important places of ordination were the Augustinian monastery in Roudnice, which belonged to the archbishop, or the castle chapel in Český Krumlov.45 On the contrary, the canon law set clearly the dates of ordination: they were already prescribed in Decretum Gratiani for Saturdays of the Ember Days;46 that is, the four weeks of the year when the sessions of Diets, Land Courts, etc. took place.47 The period of fasting was certainly convenient for a big gathering of people, as supplying a big crowd of people could otherwise be problematic. The Decretals of Pope Gregory IX, that is, the Liber extra, include a clear note that appointment to the major orders should take place during the Ember Days, on the Saturday of Sitientes (that is, the Saturday after the fourth Sunday of Lent) and on Holy Saturday; ordinations to minor orders could also be performed on other holidays throughout the liturgical year. On other than these days, ordination could only be performed by the pope.48 These dates, consistent with the law, were not only formal: they were practically the most frequent dates of ordination. The Prague diocese performed ordinations to major orders exclusively on these days.49 Regarding the Church administration of the diocese, this was the most important ritual, as the bishop continuously renewed the priest rank within the diocese and thus ensured sufficient care for the souls. A vacancy in the seat of the bishop (or archbishop) meant a threat to proper operation of spiritual 44 45 46 47 48 49

Le Pontifical, vol. 3, pp. 364–73; Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols. [21v–30v]; cf. also Doležalová, Svěcenci, pp. 47–8. Doležalová, Svěcenci, pp. 87–93. Doležalová, Svěcenci, pp. 30–1; see D. 75 c. 7 (Corpus Iuris Canonici, vol. I, col. 267). Ember days (Latin quattuor tempora, four times/seasons) are Wednesday, Friday and Saturday after the first Sunday in Lent, after Pentecost, after the Exaltation of the Holy Cross and after St. Lucy’s day. X 1.11.3 (Corpus Iuris Canonici, vol. II, Decretalium Collectiones, ed. Aemilius Friedberg (Leipzig: Bernhard Tauchnitz, 1881), col. 118). Doležalová, Svěcenci, pp. 94–109. Of the total number 8176 of higher ordinations, only four priests were ordained on other days, of deacons and sub-deacons no one. Thirty-six ordinations have no precise date.

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administration and a danger for common believers, for whom this situation could mean an obstacle in receiving the sacraments. If the archbishop’s seat was occupied legally, the ordination was one of the regular celebrations at a metropolitan church. After 1431, there was no legally appointed Prague Archbishop and the ordination of priests in particular posed a problem. Catholic priests could be ordained outside their diocese  – that is, even in Moravia or Silesia. The ordination of Utraquist priests, however, was not that easy. As they were considered heretics and the Utraquist Church still wanted to follow the apostolic succession and thus preserve the ordination of priests by a bishop, they had to search for bishops willing to ordain Utraquists for a fee. Although there were agreements intended to allow for ordination of Utraquist priests, these were not always complied with and especially in the second half of the 15th century they were not valid anymore.50 In the 1430s, the function of the Archbishop of Prague was exercised by the Legate of the Council of Basel, Philibert de Montjeu, the Coutances Bishop in Normandy.51 As mentioned in Staré letopisy české (Old Bohemian Annals), where his death is recorded in the year 1440, “he re-consecrated almost all Prague churches and monasteries, as these were violated and dishonoured during the Taborite Wars. He also confirmed many people and ordained priests of both sides at the Prague Castle: those, who administer communion in one kind, as well as those who administer in both kinds.”52 In the 1480s and at the beginning of the 16th century, two Italian bishops settled in Bohemia and later even died there: Augustine Luciani and Philip de Nova Villa.53 While there are only rare accounts of ordination from the period when the canon rules were obeyed, in this period we can often find records of 50 51

52 53

Cf. Rudolf Urbánek, Věk poděbradský, vol. 3 (České dějiny, III/3) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1930), p. 702; Archiv český, vol. 3, ed. František Palacký (Prague, 1844), p. 430 – a record of the Compacts of 1435 (Brno) and 1436 (Székesfehérvár). For him, see Christian Kleinert, Philibert de Montjeu (ca. 1374–1439): Ein Bischof im Zeitalter der Reformkonzilien und des Hundertjährigen Krieges (Ostfildern: Jan Thorbecke, 2004); for his Czech activities, see Blanka Zilynská, “Biskup Filibert a české země,” in Jihlava a basilejská kompaktáta (Jihlava: Muzeum Vysočiny, 1992), pp. 56–94, who referenced in detail the basic edition in mc I); cf. also Miloš Žila, “Brněnská církev očima basilejského legáta,” in Brno v minulosti a dnes. Sborník příspěvků k dějinám a výstavbě Brna XIV (Brno, 2000), pp. 65–71. The representation of the archbishop by a legate was suggested to King George also by Paul Žídek, see M. Pavla Židka Spravovna, ed. Zdeněk V. Tobolka (Prague: Česká akademie císaře Františka Josefa, 1908), pp. 9–11, possibly under the influence of the earlier activities of Legate Philibert. Staré letopisy české z rukopisu Křížovnického, eds. František Šimek and Miroslav Kaňák (Prague: SNKLHU, 1959), p. 157. Macek, Víra a zbožnost, pp. 118–38.

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ordination, so important to Utraquists, even in narrative sources. For instance, right after his arrival to Bohemia in 1482 Augustine ordained priests in Lipnice on the first Whitsuntide, at the land diet in Nymburk, and later in Prague.54 Similarly, his successor Philip, who arrived to Bohemia in 1504, ordained priests in Prague, Kutná Hora and Čáslav.55 The sacraments administered exclusively by bishops did not include only priest ordination, but also confirmation. Similar to ordination, it is also recorded in the sources only scarcely. If mentioned at all, its accounts are related especially to the period when the seat of the Prague Archbishop was vacant and another available bishop thus performed the confirmations. The mentions of confirmation itself appear most frequently in relation to the Basel Legate Philibert and both Italian bishops. The Pontifical, however, includes many more rituals to be performed by bishops. The first two parts of this book attend to ordination, consecration and blessing of people and objects. The sources mention particularly situations whose importance reached far beyond the sacral area of a church or an altar, especially the above mentioned ordinations of bishops, sometimes exceptionally also ordinations of priests. Regarding the second part dealing with objects, the records deal mainly with the cases when a bishop blessed and laid a foundation stone of a new church or an altar. Such accounts appear in chronicles and other narrative sources as well. Within the first category mentioned, the most important event of the 14thand 15th-century Bohemia was the laying of the foundation stone of the new Gothic St. Vitus Cathedral. As stated above, the laying of a foundation stone took place immediately after the inauguration of the new Prague Archbishop into the office: Then the new Prague Archbishop, the King of Bohemia John and his two sons Charles and John, as well as a great number of prelates and noblemen walked out of the Prague church and came to the excavation prepared for the new building foundations. Four descended into the excavation, namely the archbishop, the King and his two sons, and laid the first stone of the new church building with appropriate esteem and piety. At last, rejoicing they ascended from the excavation, while a choir cheerfully sang Te Deum laudamus.56

54 55 56

Staří letopisové čeští od roku 1378 do 1527, eds. František Palacký and Jaroslav Charvát (Prague: L. Mazáč, 1941), pp. 192–3, 205. Macek, Víra a zbožnost, pp. 132–3. Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, p. 495.

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According to Durand’s Pontifical, the whole celebration encompassed consecrations of the foundation stone, mortar, foundations and in particular the place where the new altar was to be located; various prayers were said in order to ensure the successful foundation of the church.57 Medieval chroniclers were interested in the consecration of new churches in general. Again, there are only brief records of church consecrations, or consecrations of new altars that were consecrated separately, not together with the church. The consecrations of churches and altars probably took place on Sundays or on important holidays. The consecration of the church was, of course, a complex ceremony with lots of preparations (vigils, arranging a saint’s relic, painting twelve crosses on the inner walls of the church); the ritual itself started with the consecration of the church from the outside (the bishop with the clergy and the people walked around the whole church three times) and then the bishop entered the church. This ritual incorporated the consecration of the altar, where the saints’ relics had to be placed. After a strictly ordered set of prayers and singing, the ritual was ended by a service followed by the consecration of a cemetery.58 Here again, we have to rely on the Pontifical, which is a normative source, as no detailed descriptions of the actual ritual performed were recorded. What was, however, recorded in several sources, are the celebrations following the church consecration, emphasizing the importance of the act. Beneš Krabice of Weitmile recorded that Archbishop John Očko of Vlašim consecrated the Chapel of the Holy Cross at Karlštejn, the St. Catherine Monastery in the New Town of Prague, St. Wenceslas Chapel and the Imperial Chapel in the Prague Cathedral, as well as the Old-Town Church of St. Giles, the chapel of the royal castle in Roudnice, the Emmaus monastery, the Old-Town Minorite church and monastery of St. James, and the hospital at Hradčany.59 Consecration of the chapel at the archbishop’s court in 1370 took place in the presence of the most important people of the Kingdom and was followed by a great feast: On the seventh day of July of the same year [1370], the reverend Father John, the Archbishop of Prague and a legate of the Apostolic See had his new chapel consecrated in the presence of our Emperor and Wenceslas, 57 58 59

Le Pontifical Romain, vol. 3, pp. 451–5; cf. also Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols. [119r–124v]. Le Pontifical Romain, vol. 3, pp. 455–78; cf. also Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols. [124v–168v]. Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, pp. 533–8, 545–8.

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the King of Bohemia, his son. The admirable, beautiful and splendid chapel had been recently built in the upper room, a hall in his archiepiscopal court in the Lesser Town, in honour of Instruments of the Passion (in honore armorum Christi). Many other bishops and secular princes were present at this consecration; a great feast was prepared for them on that day.60 The Legate of the Basel Council, Bishop Philibert then acted as the archbishop, as mentioned above. It was he who consecrated the seven altars of the Minorite St. James’. The Emperor and Empress, as well as many other courtiers attended this event. Philibert then also performed confirmation of both the Czechs and the Hungarians. Even such an occasion could become an important event for the court.61 Bishop Philip “consecrated the new church in front of the Poříčská Gate at the hospital in the name of the Holy Trinity and St. Paul.” It was Philip de Nova Villa, the Bishop of Sidon, who partly substituted for the Prague Archbishop at the beginning of the 16th century. After consecrating the church, the bishop “sailed with some masters on a boat to Libeň for an abundant lunch.”62 Even church consecrations could be followed by a feast in order to complete the festive event, similarly to bishop ordinations. In analogy to coronation feasts in case of ruler coronations, they followed the ritual act and ended the ceremonial programme of that particular day. Coronation of the King was another prominent ritual mentioned in the first part of the Pontifical. According to the coronation regulations, as well as to the Pontifical, bishops played an irreplaceable role at the king’s coronation. All bishops of the particular kingdom or suffragan bishops of the metropolitan, the archbishop, who was the main officiant of the king’s coronation, were supposed to be present.63 As for the Czech environment and coronations of the Kings and Queens of Bohemia, the first kings naturally could not be crowned by the Prague Archbishop, because the Prague bishopric, as we know, was promoted to the archbishopric only in 1344. Coronations were therefore performed especially by the Mainz Archbishop, as the Prague diocese was part of his province. Wenceslas I, Ottokar II, Wenceslas II and John were crowned by him 60 61 62 63

Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, p. 541. Johannis de Turonis Regestrum, p. 856. Staří letopisové čeští, p. 228. Cf. e.g. Le Pontifical, vol. 3, pp. 436–446; Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols.  [99r–117r]; Ludwig Schmugge, “Das Pontifikale des Bischofs Albert von Sternberg,” Mediaevalia Bohemica 70/3, pp. 49–86, here pp. 58–77; Korunovační řád českých králů, eds. Jiří Kuthan and Miroslav Šmied (Prague: Filozofická fakulta Univerzity Karlovy, 2009); cf. also the chapter of Václav Žůrek in this volume.

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in the Prague Cathedral. Earlier coronations took place abroad: Ottokar I was crowned by a papal legate, Cardinal Guido de Paredo; Vladislav I and Vratislav I were crowned by the Emperor. There is a record of the Church coronation in the case of Vratislav, which was performed in Prague by the Trier Archbishop. Unfortunately, there are no accounts of the Church coronation of Vladislav, apart from a charter of Frederick Barbarossa stating that the Czech prince shall be crowned [as king] by the Prague Bishop Daniel and the Olomouc Bishop John, their successors, or at least one of them.64 (figure 6.2)

Figure 6.2 The coronation of the king with the participation of all the bishops of the kingdom, or at least the suffragans of the celebrating archbishop 64

Josef Cibulka, “Český řád korunovační a jeho původ,” in Korunovační řád, pp. 273–413, here pp. 392–7; Codex diplomaticus et epistolaris regni Bohemiae, vol. I, ed. Gustav Friedrich (Prague: Komise Království českého, 1904–1907), pp. 176–8, no. 180.

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Five days after the promotion of the Prague bishopric to an archbishopric, Pope Clement VI issued a consent that the Archbishop may anoint and crown Kings of Bohemia.65 However, the Prague Archbishops performed this act only several times during the Middle Ages. It first occurred with the coronation of Charles IV by Ernest of Pardubice in 1347, who also crowned his little son Wenceslas sixteen years later. Another ceremony was performed by the last medieval Prague Archbishop Conrad of Vechta, who crowned Sigismund of Luxembourg as the King of Bohemia at the time of a difficult situation of revolution in July 1420. All other medieval coronations had to take place without the presence of the Archbishop of Prague, whose place had to be taken by foreign archbishops or bishops, or by the Bishop of Olomouc. The first occasion was on February 11, 1436 when Sigismund’s wife Barbara was crowned as the Queen of Bohemia by Bishop Philibert.66 The same bishop then crowned Sigismund’s successor, Albert, with the assistance of the Olomouc Bishop Pavel of Miličín and the Esztergom Archbishop György Palóczi.67 In 1453, the coronation of Ladislas the Posthumous was performed by the Olomouc Bishop John Ház. Apart from him, high-ranking Hungarian prelates including the Esztergom Archbishop Dionysius Szécsi were present, as well as the Wrocław Bishop Peter.68 George of Poděbrady was crowned directly by Hungarian bishops sent to the coronation by Matthias Corvinus. The coronation was performed by Augustine, the Bishop of Győr, who was assisted by the Bishop of Vác Vincent and Tas of Boskovice from Olomouc, who could not perform the act himself, as he was not yet ordained at that time,69 and the Wrocław Bishop Jodocus of Rožmberk refused to participate. Peter Eschenloer, a scribe from Wrocław, noted that in accordance with the rules, the King should have been crowned “by the Prague Archbishop, and if there is none, then the Bishops of Wrocław and Olomouc were to perform it.”70 In this case, 65 66 67 68 69 70

MVB, vol. I, Acta Clementis VI. Pontificis Romani. 1342–1352, ed. Ladislav Klicman (Prague: Typis Gregerianis, 1903), pp. 239–40, no. 393. Staří letopisové čeští, pp. 95–96; Staré letopisy české z rukopisu křížovnického, p. 128. Staří letopisové čeští, p. 103; Staré letopisy české z rukopisu křížovnického, p. 148. Rudolf Urbánek, Věk poděbradský, vol. 2 (České dějiny, III/3) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1918), pp. 745–7. Urbánek, Věk poděbradský, vol. 3, p. 359. Peter Eschenloer, Geschichte der Stadt Breslau, vol. 1, ed. Gunhild Roth (Münster: Waxmann, 2003), p. 225: “Sunder noch rechter ordenunge vnd awssaczunge der cron so sulde das getan haben ein erczbischoff zu Prage, vnd ap der nicht were, so sulden das tun die bischofe zu Breslow, Olomuncz. Jodocus der breslisch bischoff wart dorumme besucht, adir er wolde is nicht tun ane bebstliche befelhunge, vmb der keczerey, adir vil mer vmb vordechtnis willen kegin den von Breslow.” As a reminder, it is commonly known in Hungary that the king must be crowned by the Archbishop of Esztergom by the Holy Crown of St. Stephen in the basilica of Székesfehérvár, cf. “Die Denkwürdigkeiten

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the coronation had to be performed by foreign bishops from Hungary. On the contrary, the young King Vladislav II was crowned in 1471 by bishops from Poland. The crowning Bishop Nicholas Prochnicki from Kamieniec Podolski (Kamianets-Podilskyi) was assisted by the Chełmno Bishop Vincent Kiełbasa, and the auxiliary Bishop of Cracow Paul.71 The last medieval coronation of a King of Bohemia took place in 1509 when, similarly to the coronation of Wenceslas IV, a two-year old heir to the throne was crowned. Louis II was again crowned by a bishop from the Bohemian lands, particularly by the Bishop of Olomouc Stanislav Thurzo, assisted by his brother, the Bishop of Wrocław John, and the Meissen Bishop John of Saalhausen.72 The purpose of this long list is to illustrate the problems that had to be tackled with regard to coronations and the absence of the Archbishop of Prague, who was authorized and obliged to crown Kings of Bohemia. Although the “stand-in” was supposed to be the Bishop of Olomouc, it was not always he who crowned the King. Arrivals of foreign bishops depended particularly on the current political conditions and the partialities of the ruler being crowned. It is, however, clear that in all cases it was necessary to ensure the presence of at least three bishops, one of whom represented the main officiant, while the other two had other liturgical functions, as defined in the Pontifical. The last, third part of the Pontifical, as it was created by Guillaume Durand, contains descriptions of other liturgical ceremonies performed on particularly important holidays. Apart from that, there are several chapters describing other tasks related to the administration of a diocese or of a province and of a bishop’s jurisdiction. One of them is the canonical visitation: there is not much information about its procedure, but it is certain that it was of great importance to a common believer. As a consequence, an episcopal mass might take place in a particular parish church, if the bishop undertook the visitation himself

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der Helene Kottanerin. Die ältesten deutschen Frauenmemoiren (1439–1440),” ed. Karl Mollay, Arrabona 7 (1965), pp. 237–96, here p. 272: “Wann Sy habent drew gesecz in dem Kungreich zu Vngeren, Vnd wo der ains abgeet, da mainen Sie, daz der nicht rechtleich Kumg sey. Das ain gesecz ist daz, vnd das haisst, daz ain Kung zu Vngern sol gekront werden mit der heiligen kron. Das ander, daz in sol kroenen der Ercz Bischoue zu Gran. Das dritt, daz die kronung sol beschehen zu Weissenburg.” Joannis Dlugossii Annales seu Cronicae incliti Regni Poloniae, vol. XII. 1462–1480, eds. Krzysztof Baczkowski et al. (Cracow: Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 2005), p. 273; Petr Čornej and Milena Bartlová, Velké dějiny zemí Koruny české, vol. VI (Prague: Paseka, 2007), p. 409; František Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály, ceremonie a festivity české stavovské monarchie 1471–1526,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity ve střední Evropě 14. a 15. století, eds. Martin Nodl and František Šmahel (Prague: Argo, 2009), pp. 147–70, here p. 153. Staří letopisové čeští, pp. 252–3; Staré letopisy české z rukopisu křížovnického, pp. 338–9; Čornej and Bartlová, Velké dějiny, vol. VI, pp. 531–2; Šmahel, “Korunovační rituály,” p. 157.

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(nevertheless, he could have someone substitute for him).73 However, much more important for the operation of a diocese was the organization of regular diocese clergy synods. Even for this ceremonial occasion there were liturgical tasks prescribed in the Pontifical to be performed by a bishop. These presented the bishop’s rank and the importance of his office. There is not much we can learn about the external form of this celebration; even the scarce preserved sources related to the topic of local synods in the Bohemian lands do not particularly abound with detailed information. The synod, which was of great importance for the jurisdictional authority of the diocese’s ordinary, included the preaching of a sermon and public announcement of valid or newly issued statutes. Synods were organized even at the time of vacancy of the Prague See, but no detailed descriptions of the event are recorded, even from these exceptional times. Similar to priest ordinations, synods were supposed to take place regularly and belonged therefore among the typical liturgical celebrations in the cathedral.74 Apart from canonical visitations and synods, the bishop also expressed his jurisdiction over the entrusted followers by ritualised tasks based on the canon law, which enabled him to punish or remedy sinners. Such means comprised various Church punishments. These, however, had to be appropriately presented, published, and made public in a ritual way: not only did the symbolic behaviour show their validity, as these were basically verdicts of the bishop’s jurisdiction, but also the liturgical ceremony promoted their authority. It was the bishop who was entitled to impose such punishments by virtue of his jurisdiction, but he could also grant absolutions and deliver the believers from the consequences of these punishments. Apart from suspending and degradation

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Le pontifical, vol. 3, pp. 623–7; cf. also Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols. [261v–264v]; cf. also Hledíková, Arnošt, pp. 164–74. Le pontifical, vol. 3, pp. 596–602; cf. also Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols. [238v–245r]; cf. esp. Hledíková, Arnošt, pp. 105–19; Zdeňka Hledíková, “Synody v pražské diecézi,” in Eadem, Svět české středověké církve (Prague: Argo, 2010), pp. 381– 97; Zilynská, “Ceremoniál středověkých synod,” pp. 481–93; Blanka Zilynská, “Synody v Čechách mezi Kostnicí a Tridentinem,” in Sacri canones servandi sunt. Ius canonicum et status ecclesiae saeculis XIII–XV, ed. Pavel Krafl (Prague: Historický ústav AV ČR, 2008), pp. 531–9; Blanka Zilynská, “Synoda nebo sněm? Ke vztahu světské moci a utrakvistických církevních struktur v době jagellonské,” in Doba Jagellonská v zemích České koruny (1471– 1526), ed. Viktor Kubík (České Budějovice: Tomáš Halama, 2005), pp. 29–41. The sources for the medieval Bohemian and Moravian synods were published by Jaroslav V. Polc and Zdeňka Hledíková, Pražské synody a koncily předhusitské doby (Prague: Karolinum, 2002) and Pavel Krafl, Synody a statuta olomoucké diecéze období středověku (Prague: Historický Ústav AV ČR, 2003).

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in case of clerics, these were mainly an interdict and an excommunication,75 which could impact all believers and thus had to be properly presented.76 Possibly the best-known instance of degradation from a priest’s ordination is the case of Jan Hus in Constance. His account was captured in the report of Peter of Mladoňovice: “And then upon the order of seven bishops who were to strip him of his priesthood, he put on a chasuble, as if he was to perform the service.” When requested to revoke, Hus refused and therefore the bishops continued the ritual: So the same bishops ordered him to step down from the podium. When stripping him of his priesthood, first they took the chalice from him, saying: ‘Oh, accursed Judas, as you have left the counsel of peace and gone with the counsel of Jews, we take away this chalice from you, in which the blood of God and Jesus Christ is sacrificed for redemption of the world.’ And he exclaimed: ‘I hope that the Lord, my dear redeemer, shall not take away the chalice of redemption from me; I believe strongly that with His help I shall drink from it in his Kingdom today.’ So removing the chasuble and the stole from him they cursed them. And he replied that he is willing to undergo such blasphemy for the name and the truth of Jesus Christ. When the bishops removed all of the liturgical vestment, they were about 75 76

See also X 5.39.1–60 (Corpus Iuris Canonici, vol. II, cols. 889–912). For the interdict, cf. Edward B. Krehbiel, The Interdict: Its History and its Operation with Especial Attention to the Time of Pope Innocent III 1198–1216 (Washington, DC: The American Historical Association, 1909); Peter D. Clarke, The Interdict in the Thirteenth Century: A Question of Collective Guilt (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007); Richard C. Trexler, The Spiritual Power: Republican Florence under Interdict (Leiden: Brill, 1974); Martin Kaufhold, Gladius spiritualis: Das päpstliche Interdikt über Deutschland in der Regierungszeit Ludwigs des Bayern (1324–1347) (Heidelberg: Winter, 1994); William Kurtz Gotwald, Ecclesiastical Censure at the End of the Fifteenth Century (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1927); for the excommunication, Donald F. Logan, Excommunication and the Secular Arm in Medieval England: A Study in Legal Procedure from the Thirteenth to the Sixteenth Century (Toronto: Pontifical Institute for Medieval Studies, 1968); Elisabeth Vodola, Excommunication in the Middle Ages (Berkeley/Los Angeles/London: University of California Press, 1986); R.H. Helmholz, The Spirit of Classical Canon Law (Athens/ London: The University of Georgia Press, 1986), pp. 366–93. The ritual of excommunication in Polish context has been treated by Beata Wojciechowska, “Rytuał ekskomuniki i jego recepcja w Polsce średniowiecznej,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity ve střední Evropě 14. a 15. století, eds. Martin Nodl and František Šmahel (Prague: Filosofia, 2009), pp. 453–63; Beata Wojciechowska, “Ekskomunikowani w Polsce późnego średniowiecza. Kategorie spraw i przypadki,” in Zbožnost ve středověku, ed. Martin Nodl (Prague: Argo, 2007), pp. 135–47.

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to impair his tonsure. Then they could not agree, as some of them wanted to shave him with a razor, while others said it would be sufficient to impair his tonsure with scissors. Then he turned to the king sitting there in majesty, and said: ‘Oh, these bishops even cannot agree in such blasphemy!’ And as they impaired his tonsure by cutting his hair with scissors in four directions, they uttered these words: ‘The Holy Council of Constance has stripped Jan Hus of his priesthood and other dignities which used to decorate him – this means that the Holy Church has nothing to do with him anymore – relinquishing him to the secular justice and power.’77 A detailed description of this reverse rite of passage by which a priest loses his ordination can be compared to the information provided by the Pontifical.78 In Hus’s case, the bishops followed the regulations of the Pontifical, letting him put on the priest’s vestment and then removing it from him. The Pontifical states that a priest should be deprived of all insignia and sacred decorations that were granted to him at ordination. Finally, the priest’s vestment should be removed from him and he should be dressed in lay clothes. In addition, the bishop’s task is to scrape (with glass, a dagger or in any other way, but without shedding any blood) the places on the degraded priest’s hands anointed during the priest’s ordination. In Hus’s case, the bishops either omitted this part, or Peter of Mladoňovice simply did not record this crucial act. On the contrary, he paid close attention to the impairment of his tonsure, which is voluntary (si velit), according to the Pontifical. The Council of Constance apparently required the priest’s degradation to be exemplary and as demonstrative as possible; that is why the event took place in a church in the presence of seven bishops. The Pontifical neither determines the place (degradation may take place anywhere), nor does it require the presence of more bishops than one. It is also important to realize that the bishops acted here on the basis of their generally valid episcopal rank and on behalf of the decision of the Council. So, in this case, they did not exercise their own jurisdiction, but the authority to punish as partakers of the general bishop’s office, by which they were entrusted with the task to keep the orthodoxy and the right way of all believers and clerics. 77 78

Petr z Mladoňovic, Pašije Mistra Jana Husi, ed. Václav Novotný, frb VIII (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1932), pp. 137–9; cf. also the Latin version of the report, ibidem, pp. 116–7. Le pontifical, vol. 3, pp. 607–9; Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols. [247r–248v].

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A priest degraded in such a manner was supposed to have previously suffered excommunication. This tool which may be used by bishops against all believers is in a way a ritual restricting the sinner’s participation in the Church community life. There are three types of excommunication – excommunicatio minor, excommunicatio maior and anathema. The procedure was most elaborated for the most severe type of excommunication, that is, the anathema, which was a form of major excommunication. Only bishops and the pope were exclusively entitled to impose such anathemas. The prelate performing the ritual was to be assisted by twelve priests standing in a circle around him, holding burning candles in their hands. After the anathema was pronounced, they exclaimed “fiat” (so be it) three times, broke the candles and threw them on the floor. Then, documents stating the name of the excommunicated one were sent to all parts of the particular diocese to be announced, so that nobody would associate with the excommunicated one without knowing the anathema was imposed on that person. The Pontifical also includes the possibility of satisfaction and re-admission of the sinner into the Church. The same bishop and the twelve priests had the authority to perform these. The penitent approached the sitting bishop, who was awaiting him with the priests in front of a church, he asked for mercy, confessed the guilt and expressed regret. Following penitential psalms and other prayers, the bishop admitted the applicant back into the Church and led him inside the church.79 A case of excommunication performed by a bishop was recorded by Sigismund Rosicz from Wrocław, dealing with the excommunication of George of Poděbrady performed by Rudolf of Rüdesheim, the Bishop of Lavant and papal nuncio. “On the Sunday of misericordias domini [April 12, 1467], the legate intended to perform a sermon in the circle (sermo in circulo); wearing a hood, he went out of St. Elisabeth Church following the prelates and canons of Wrocław to excommunicate George, who claimed the throne of Bohemia, and all his loyal ones, who disobeyed the Roman Church.”80 The sermon in the circle may refer to clerics taking part in the ritual of excommunication. The bishop is again the one deciding about the banishment of believers from the participation in the Church community, and thus about the exclusion from salvation. The impressive effect of the excommunication ritual was based on the symbolical procedure with burning candles that are extinguished and destroyed. In case the sinner returns into the womb of the Church, the whole reconciliation 79 80

Le pontifical, vol. 3, pp. 612–5; Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols. [254v–256v]. Cf. also the provincial statutes of Ernest of Pardubice of 1349, article 83, Pražské synody a koncily, p. 162. Rosicz, Sequuntur gesta diversa, p. 82.

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ritual must necessarily take place outside a church, so that the penitent enters it already as a member of the community. This demonstrates not only the bishop’s authority to punish, but also to forgive and grant absolution. This power of the bishop comes from his sacramental office. A weird ritual has been recorded the basis of which is probably derived from this general power. The ritual, however, has no roots in the Church law and is almost absurd. Deriding a Catholic bishop, the historiography of the Unity of Brethren ascribes to John Filipec, the Bishop of Várad (Oradea) and the administrator of the Olomouc diocese, a ceremony by which he, on behalf of his episcopal rank, returned virginity to a girl who lost it after meeting King Matthias Corvinus. In Historia fratrum, it is stated: Once, when King Matthias was in Brno, he deflowered a burgher’s daughter. But as he was accompanied by a bishop, he asked him to return the girl her virginity. So, after the sermon (…) on Sunday, she stood in front of the public and Bishop John first talked for a long time about the priestly and episcopal power, and then he told her something in this sense: ‘(…) I hereby return your virginity, I proclaim you a genuine virgin. In nomine, etc.’ The maidens standing around then brushed her hair and arranged it in the way maidens commonly wear it. Then, the King told the bishop at the table: ‘John, this is the biggest waggery you have done in your life.’ And the bishop replied: ‘As you wished me to do.’81 The same story is also mentioned in other Brethren texts, but once the virginity is returned by priests, another time it is done by the papal power.82 We are not sure if such a ritual ever happened, as it is recorded only in sources of the Unity of Brethren, which had a clear derogatory agenda. The intention of the Unity of the Brethren was clearly to accuse John Filipec of misusing the bishop’s rank and power, as his name was associated with the fight against the Unity later on. If such a ritual really took place, it would be an obvious misuse of the bishop’s office for a completely non-legitimate ceremony not based on the canon law, nor on the Pontifical or other similar normative texts. Anyway, the rhetoric used refers to the bishop’s sacral power that was supposed to be sufficient – according to the ritual performed – to return the virginity. 81 82

ms Prague, Národní knihovna České republiky, XVIII F 51 a, Historia fratrum, pp. 264–265, the manuscript is partially damaged and thus the whole text of the imagined speech of the bishop is unknown. Cf. more with reference to sources in Antonín Kalous, Matyáš Korvín (1443–1490). Uherský a český král (České Budějovice: Veduta, 2009), pp. 296, 390.

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All of the mentioned rituals are based on the sacral dignity (dignitas) of bishops and their office and are part of the liturgy. Liturgical tasks are fundamental rituals of the Church environment. The bishop’s care for the liturgical tasks in the cathedral church and their rules are therefore among the bishop’s crucial duties. Again, we do not know much about them and scarce records of hymns, antiphons, and prayers do not tell us much. What is worth noting are the privileges achieved for the Prague Cathedral by Archbishop John Očko of Vlašim from Pope Urban V. Beneš Krabice interpreted them as follows: Anytime and any number of times the Prague Archbishop serves a mass in person in the Prague church, all prelates and canons holding a benefice here, as well as archdeacons established in the Prague church, may and shall use white mitres, following the example of the cardinals assisting the pope at the Roman curia. On the contrary, if the Prague Archbishop serves a mass in his province and within the territory of his legatine authority, he shall be assisted by two canons of his Prague church in white mitres worn by deacons and subdeacons. Prelates and canons of the Prague church can also serve in those white mitres the holy mass in the Prague church on festive days and holidays. Prelates and canons shall not, however, use the above-mentioned mitres in case the mass is served by any other bishop, no matter where he comes from, unless the emperor, his heir and successor, or the King are present and attend the service; in that case they shall wear them to particularly honour the royal dignity.83 The liturgy of the Prague Cathedral (and thus the rules of the ritual) contributed to strengthening the position of the Prague Archbishop not only in Prague, but also abroad – his role as a papal legate (in this case, legatus natus), which will be mentioned later. The shift of the Prague metropolitan to a more important position in the international field was also addressed by Beneš Krabice of Weitmile. He referred to the turn in the importance of the Prague and the Mainz archbishops and mentioned a ceremonial act in which (and solely in it) a symbolical exchange of the previous positions took place: In the same year [1371], on the 22nd of June, reverend Father John, the Mainz Archbishop, who had been previously promoted by the emperor to his church, paid tribute to the Emperor carrying standards in the 83

Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, pp. 532–3; cf. MVB, vol. III, p. 212, no. 364; p. 280, no. 489; pp. 284–5, no. 496; p. 285, no. 497; pp. 286–7, no. 499.

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centre of Prague. There we actually [saw] the grace of the Lord towards us and the Bohemian land, as the Archbishop of Mainz recently crowned and anointed Kings of Bohemia as a metropolitan and in earlier times the Archbishops used to confirm the elections of bishops of the Prague church, ordained them and inaugurated them into their tenure in accordance with the authority of metropolitans. Now, from the grace of the Lord, as requested by the Emperor, after the above-mentioned tribute paid in Prague, reverend Father in Christ John, the Archbishop of the holy Prague church, went to Mainz in person and introduced the archbishop of the local church into the personal tenure of spiritual and secular rights. Thank God!84 Of course this did not mean a permanent superiority of the Archbishop of Prague over the one of Mainz, but the symbolism seemed clear to the Prague chronicler. It was the expression and the proof that the Prague church was ranked amongst the most important centres and its dignity and the authority of its representative was elevated above others. 3

Secular Environment

Apart from Church rituals, bishops also utilised entirely secular ritualized behaviour to strengthen their own position in the society, confirm or demonstrate their own power, etc. There are rituals or celebrations that do not have to take place in a church, but they are still closely tied to the exercising of the bishop’s office. One of such general rituals inherent to all people having an actual authority over the society (or at least its part) is ceremonial entry. Why should a bishop arrange such a ceremonial entry? Certainly, he demonstrates his power within his diocese: he demonstrates not only his spiritual authority, but also the judicial and administrative authorities. In medieval Bohemian lands we can find several ceremonial entries of local bishops or archbishops, who entered their residential town. Apart from that, other bishops could also arrive in a ceremonial procession and be solemnly welcomed. Such events, however, belong even more clearly to the area of ceremonies rather than rituals, as these entries are not related to the bishop’s power within the above mentioned offices. The Prague Bishop John IV of Dražice ceremonially entered his residential town in 1329, as he was returning from his long stay in Avignon at the 84

Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, p. 544.

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Papal Curia where he exonerated himself from the accusation of heresy and was returned to his office, from which he had been previously suspended.85 According to Francis of Prague, on the day of blessed martyrs Processus and Martinian [2 July], he entered his church and the town of Prague with great celebrations; all prelates, exempted and non-exempted, as well as lords, noblemen, burghers and a multitude of clergy and people went to greet him with great acclamations. Especially the prelates and canons of his Prague church and his priests carrying relics of saints and standards. At last everyone who was with him in the church sang, accompanied by the sound of organ Te Deum laudamus. Apart from that, a procession of people from all churches and all the religious of the Prague town with the relics of saints went to greet him, praising God.86 Beneš Krabice mentions at least briefly that the bishop was “received with all glory and joy.”87 He provided a more detailed account of John’s successor, who was ordained bishop in Avignon. When Ernest arrived in 1343, “his nation, clerics and lay people, received him ceremonially in a procession with relics, introducing him to the bishop’s seat with cheering and joy. The King of Bohemia and his sons Charles and John and all lords and magnates of the Kingdom also rejoiced and enjoyed the happy return of this new bishop and his success and prosperity.”88 Similarly, ceremonial entries of Wrocław Bishops are recorded. For example, in 1417, the new Wrocław Bishop Conrad was welcomed with all due dignity in the town. One of his successors, Jodocus of Rožmberk, was ceremoniously received by the chapter, clergy, and town officials.89 Such ceremonious entries also took place in cases such as the return of John IV from Avignon. Apparently, there was a procession greeting the bishop and leading him to the episcopal church. In general, however, the solemn entry of the bishop had a constitutive character of the new bishop taking the office and the administration of the diocese. (figure 6.3) 85 86 87 88 89

Hledíková, Biskup Jan IV., p. 124. Chronicon Francisci Pragensis, frb S. N. I, p. 79. Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, p. 482. Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, p. 493. Sigismund Rosicz, Chronica et numerus episcoporum Wratislaviensium, ed. Franz Wachter, srs XII (Wrocław: Josef Max & Komp., 1883), p. 35.

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Figure 6.3 The procession with the monstrance carried by the bishop under a canopy. The procession is attended by musicians, residents of the city with candles and a royal couple watching from the stands.

This type of episcopal ceremony in the secular environment can be found in other places as well. In late medieval Italy, ceremonial entries into the capital of the diocese were a common component of power takeover in the bishopric, which was rooted in a specific situation within the Italian Church. These rituals were very complex and elaborate. For example, in Florence the ceremonial entry could last for two days, consisting of crucial components such as the enthronement, feasts, holy masses, a ritual wedding, giving presents, etc.90 These ritual entries to the diocese centres were only connected to the 90

In detail, see Maureen C. Miller, “The Florentine Bishop’s Ritual Entry and the Origins of the Medieval Episcopal Adventus,” Revue d’Histoire Ecclesiastique 98 (2003), pp. 5–28, here p. 5; cf. also Richard C. Trexler, Public Life in Renaissance Florence (Ithaca/London: Cornell University Press, 1991), pp. 272–4.

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first arrival of bishops who were – in the 13th century – more and more often approved in Rome, and their form was a ritualised takeover of the governance over the diocese. They were based not only on the bishop’s entries of the late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages, but especially on the ritual of the Roman Pope, his entry of Rome, and the possesso itself – that is, the ritual procession of the Roman Pontiff, who walked through Rome from the Vatican to the Lateran following his election and coronation. By this act, he demonstrated the takeover of the power over Rome, even though after the Third Lateran Council only the election was legally binding91 and the following ceremonies were “reduced to mere pomp and circumstance, without any legal significance.”92 Solemn entries of bishops in the Bohemian lands were not so elaborated and in this respect they lagged behind the well-developed Italian environment. With certain caution we might consider the ritual entry into the residential town confirming the takeover of the bishop’s office. Even papal legates representing the pope outside the diocese of Rome confirmed and practically announced their authorization and power in the same way. 91 92

Benson, The Bishop-Elect, pp. 162–4; for the constitution of the Third Lateran Council, see X 1.6.6 (Corpus Iuris Canonici, vol. II, col. 51). About the possesso esp. Bernhard Schimmelpfennig, “Papal Coronations in Avignon,” in Coronations: Medieval and Early Modern Monarchic Ritual, ed. J.M. Bak (Berkeley/Los Angeles/Oxford: University of California Press, 1990), pp. 179–86, quote p. 180; cf. Bernhard Schimmelpfennig, “Die Krönung des Papstes im Mittelalter dargestellt am Beispiel der Krönung Pius II (3. 9. 1458),” Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken 54 (1974), pp. 192–270; Bernhard Schimmelpfennig, “Die Bedeutung Roms im päpstlichen Zeremoniell,” in Rom im hohen Mittelalter: Studien zu den Romvorstellungen und zur Rompolitik vom 10. bis zum 12. Jahrhundert, eds. Idem and Ludwig Schmugge (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1992), pp. 47–61; Charles L. Stinger, The Renaissance in Rome (Bloomington/Indianapolis: Indiana university press, 1998), pp. 53–7; Irene Fosi, “Court and City in the Ceremony of the Possesso in the Sixteenth Century,” in Court and Politics in Papal Rome, 1492–1700, eds. Gianvittorio Signorotto and Maria Antonietta Visceglia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), pp. 31–52. For the context of the City and the papal celebrations Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body (Chicago/London: University of Chicago Press, 2000); Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Le Chiavi e la Tiara: Immagini e simboli del papato medievale (Rome: Viella, 2005); Chiara Savettieri, “Lo spettacolo del potere: i luoghi, i simboli, le feste,” in Roma del Rinascimento, ed. Antonio Pinelli (Rome: Laterza, 2001), pp. 161–98; Pio Paschini, Roma nel Rinascimento (Bologna: Licinio Cappelli, 1940). About the papal ceremonial in general, Bernhard Schimmelpfennig, Die Zeremonienbücher der römischen Kurie im Mittelalter (Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1973); Jörg Bölling, Das Papstzeremoniell der Renaissance: Texte – Musik – Performanz (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2006) and the publications of Marc Dykmans, Le cérémonial papal de la fin du moyen âge à la renaissance, 4 vols. (Brusselles/Rome: Institut historique belge de Rome, 1977–1985); Marc Dykmans, L’Œuvre de Patrizi Piccolomini ou Le cérémonial papal de la première renaissance, 2 vols. (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1980–1982).

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The arrival of the local bishop into the capital of the particular diocese was only unique for the first time. There were, however, also other bishops coming to such a town. The sources usually record only special occasions, such as the arrival of an archbishop into the capital of the suffragan bishopric. For example, in December 1454, the Gniezno Archbishop was ceremoniously welcomed in Wrocław. He was greeted by auxiliary bishops (the Wrocław Bishop was ill), abbots, prelates, canons and all clergy and led in a procession in front of the cathedral, where he sat on the prepared armchair (sedis) with a carpet. When he kissed the holy relics, he took the font (aspersorium). Then he probably blessed the people. He served the solemn mass as late as one week after his arrival.93 The same author, the Wrocław chronicler Sigismund Rosicz, recorded also the arrival of the Gniezno Archbishop fifteen years earlier. Then, however, the archbishop was not ceremoniously welcomed at all, as Poles were blamed for the poor state of the country.94 In Prague, where the archbishop was not lawfully established since the death of Conrad of Vechta, foreign bishops were often ceremoniously received; as stated above, they could perform various liturgical tasks and grant sacraments restricted only to bishops. Augustine Luciani was solemnly welcomed, after being received at the Land Diet in Slaný (“they came to welcome him greatly and led him into the town”).95 In Prague, he was then welcomed twice.96 His successor, Philip de Nova Villa, also entered Prague with great splendour, as “Prague burghers and masters [of the university]” went out to greet him as far as to Tábor. After the arrival to the town, he was first led to the Church of Our Lady before Týn, where Te Deum laudamus was sang, and from here he was led to Charles’ college, where he was accommodated. The ceremonial entry of this bishop was also recorded by Marino Sanuto from Venice, who summarized a letter from Hungary – he had second-hand information that the bishop was greeted by as many as 60,000 people. The information is certainly exaggerated, but it illustrates the great number of those who awaited the bishops enthusiastically as well as the author’s belief that such a number is realistic.97 In order to 93 94

95 96 97

Rosicz, Sequuntur gesta diversa, p. 68. Rosicz, Sequuntur gesta diversa, p. 53: “Eodem anno in vigilia epiphanie domini dominus Vincentius archi-episcopus Gnesnensis intravit Wratislaviam, nec fuit susceptus a clero cum reliquiis neque a populo cum aliis ceremonialibus propter damnum regno et Silesie nuper per Polonos illatum cantavitque summam missam ipso die epiphanias domini in ecclesia Wratislaviensi. Et recessit in die Timothei cum Polonis: ohne Pfeiffer.” Staří letopisové čeští, p. 193. Staří letopisové čeští, pp. 203, 205. Macek, Víra a zbožnost, p. 132; Staří letopisové čeští, p. 227; Monumenta historica Universitatis Carolo-Ferdinandeae Pragensis, vol. II, Liber decanorum facultatis philosophicae (Prague: Universita Karlo-Ferdinandova, 1832), p. 205; I diarii di Marino Sanuto, vol. 6,

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emphasize the importance for the Utraquist Prague, Bishop Philip was not led to the cathedral at the Prague Castle, but to the Church of the Mother of God before Týn, which was the main church of the Utraquists. As the superior prelates of their dioceses, bishops or archbishops also participated in important Church celebrations; their programme could also incorporate the non-liturgical area outside the cathedral or another church. In the town environment, these were the still more popular processions on the occasions of important holidays or special events. An example of a traditional and annually organized celebration, where the local bishop was present, was a great procession on the feast of Corpus Christi in Wrocław, but also in other places.98 The Prague Archbishop, for example, led a procession greeting the imperial relics brought to Prague on Palm Sunday of 1349.99 In 1469, a great feast took place in Wrocław, where Bishop Rudolf of Rüdesheim carried the Eucharist under a canopy. He was followed by the newly elected King of Bohemia Matthias Corvinus with other secular and Church dignitaries. According to Peter Eschenloer, this was the most splendid procession ever organized in Wrocław.100 Similarly, bishops and archbishops and their deputies went to meet the arriving rulers in order to welcome them at their entry to the centre of a particular diocese: such welcomings took place in Prague, Wrocław, as well as in Olomouc. Especially the visits of the ruler to Wrocław gained special resonance and the role of the bishop at these ceremonial welcomings was even subject to disagreement, as his role was defined against other participants of the ceremonial greeting. The developing self-confidence of the burghers led to the change in the ritual, in which the bishop was no longer the main organizer: the whole ceremony was divided into two parts – one under the leadership of the town and

ed. Guglielmo Berchet (Venice: F. Visentini, 1881), col. 51: “Item, è venuto im Praga uno episcopo di Modena, che ge andò contra di le persone 60 milia; el qual vene vestì da bufon fin in Boemia, et lhor ge mandò poi omnia necessaria, e lo tien con gran custodia, perchè, prima non poteano ordenar preti, costui ne ha ordinati una infinità.” 98 Cf. Zdeňka Hledíková, “Slavnosti církevního roku v kostele i na ulici,” in Eadem, Svět české středověké církve (Prague: Argo, 2010), pp. 284–302, here pp. 290, 299–300. 99 Chronicon Francisci Pragensis, frb S. N. I, pp. 210–1. 100 Eschenloer, Geschichte, vol. 1, p. 768; Rosicz, Sequuntur gesta diversa, p. 85; cf. also Vojtěch Černý, “Zklamané naděje. Pobyt Matyáše Korvína ve Vratislavi roku 1469,” in Evropa a Čechy na konci středověku: Sborník příspěvků věnovaných Františku Šmahelovi, eds. Eva Doležalová, Robert Novotný and Pavel Soukup (Prague: Filosofia, 2004), pp. 187–94, here p. 191. Another great procession led by the Bishop of Wrocław in 1423 ended in a disaster as a number of people drowned after the bridge collapsed, see Rosicz, Sequuntur gesta diversa, p. 46.

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the other organized by the bishop.101 Bishops, however, still played the crucial role. In Prague, for instance, the Basel Legate Bishop Philibert, who acted as the Prague Archbishop, welcomed Albert as the new King of Bohemia in 1438, one year later, he greeted the returning Ulrich of Celje, and the Prague burghers returning from their journey to visit the King in Wrocław.102 Prothasius of Boskovice even greeted two (simultaneous) Kings of Bohemia as a bishop. According to the description of Albert, Duke of Saxony, Kings of Bohemia Vladislav and Matthias (who rode out of Olomouc to greet Vladislav outside the town) arrived to Olomouc together. They were both met by the bishop in a very ornate procession and led to the cathedral. A Czech song was sung there and then the bishop sung on his own. Then, a procession of all clerics accompanied both rulers to their residences.103 The Pontifical also dealt in detail with the welcoming of a ruler, an emperor, a king, a prince, as well as an empress, a queen or a princess. It is, however, notable in this context that Durand’s 13th-century version is considerably extended at the end of the 15th century by Agostino Patrizi and Johann Burckard. Durand provided only a list of responsories and verses to be sung and a prayer said over the arriving ruler.104 The 15th-century authors, on the other hand, described in more detail – obviously under the influence of Roman imperial entries – not only the reception of the Emperor, which was not mentioned by Durand, but also the reception of a king, a prince and their wives. A clergy procession shall come out of the town gates, where the arriving king kisses the cross carried in front of the prelate. Then, while the responsory Eligit eum dominus, hymns and other pious songs are sung, the king is accompanied under a canopy into the cathedral. There the bishop sprinkles him with holy water and after the prayers 101 Cf. Erich Fink, Geschichte der landesherrlichen Besuche in Wrocław (Wrocław, 1897), pp. 5–54; Mlada Holá, “‘Fuit honorifice susceptus:’ Holdovací cesty českých panovníků do Vratislavi v pozdním středověku,” in Korunní země v dějinách českého státu, vol. 3, Rezidence a správní sídla v zemích České koruny ve 14.–17. století, eds. Lenka Bobková and Jana Konvičná (Prague: Togga, 2007), pp. 273–99; Mlada Holá, “Holdovací cesty a návštěvy českých králů ve slezské Vratislavi v pozdním středověku (1437–1526),” in Česká koruna na rozcestí: K dějinám Horní a Dolní Lužice a Dolního Slezska na přelomu středověku a raného novověku (1437–1526), ed. Lenka Bobková, (Prague: Casablanca, 2010), pp. 166–91; and cf. esp. Martin Čapský, “Král obklopený kacíři: Slavnosti na počest Ladislava Pohrobka ve Svídnici a ve Vratislavi,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity, pp. 65–76, here pp. 67–9. 102 Staré letopisy české z rukopisu křížovnického, pp. 148, 153. 103 Urkundliche Nachträge zur österreichisch-deutschen Geschichte im Zeitalter Kaiser Friedrich III., ed. Adolf Bachmann, fra II/46) (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1892), pp. 453–5, no. 440; Antonín Kalous, “Rituály a ceremonie při setkávání panovníků: Případ Matyáše Hunyadiho (Korvína),” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity, pp. 121–36, here p. 133. 104 Le pontifical, vol. 3, pp. 629–30.

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the bishop blesses the people and accompanies the ruler into his residence.105 In contrast to common practice, the authors of the Pontifical do not mention the presence of the bishop in the welcoming procession – maybe they want to emphasize the bishop’s autonomy within the scope of his Church authority. The bishop awaits the ruler at the cathedral, but after the ceremonies in the cathedral, he accompanies him to his residence. Naturally, bishops had a close relation to the ruler, and as prominent personalities of the kingdom, they took part in court feasts, performed the clerical tasks in the royal family, ceremoniously welcomed the ruler in their residence, represented the king, etc. These ceremonial occasions are not related to the bishop’s office by definition, but on the basis of their function and position in the court society: important prelates were members of the court and king’s associates. As such, bishops often baptized royal children, led funerals of the ruler or members of the royal family and liturgical ceremonies taking place at the court. Of course, these incorporated common services, vespers, etc. – such tasks were certainly ensured by royal chaplains, but more important events were mostly managed by bishops. As already suggested, after the ceremonies bishops often attended ceremonial feasts, where they were among the most important guests, as they were naturally in the position of prominent courtiers. On the occasion of a ceremonial banquet after the royal wedding of Matthias Corvinus and Beatrice of Aragon, several bishops presided over the individual tables at the feast.106 In the court environment, it was necessary to represent the ruler and to integrate bishops into diplomatic services. Such activity was also filled with symbolic behaviour and the effort to express their dignified and appropriate position. The importance of envoys representing the ruler was of course based on the status of the ruler himself, so the imperial ambassador was naturally entitled to be prioritized over a king’s ambassador; in case of bishops, however, their rank had to be taken into account as well. The activity in diplomacy is known for many individuals, as for example Ernest of Pardubice was a prominent diplomat of Emperor and King Charles IV;107 the Olomouc Bishop Kuneš of Zvole acted as a diplomat of Kings Sigismund at the Basel Council;108 one 105 Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols. [264v–267r], the verses mentioned above hold for the king, for other rulers (emperors or dukes) they are different. 106 Kalous, Matyáš, pp. 323, 396, note 131. 107 Lenka Bobková, “Arnošt z Pardubic, přední diplomat Karla IV.,” in Arnošt z Pardubic (1297–1364): Osobnost – Okruh – Dědictví / Postać – Środowisko – Dziedzictwo, eds. Lenka Bobková, Ryszard Gładkiewicz and Petr Vorel (Wrocław/Prague/Pardubice, 2005), pp. 43–58; Hledíková, Arnošt, pp. 35–101. 108 Dějiny Olomouce, vol. 1, p. 226 (Petr Elbel).

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of his successors, John Ház, was a diplomat of Ladislaus the Posthumous.109 Prothasius of Boskovice, as the Olomouc Bishop, worked similarly in the services of King George of Poděbrady and later of King Matthias Corvinus.110 In several cases, sources record the negotiations of individual bishops, whose position as representatives of the kings was even increased by their rank as high church dignitaries.111 For instance, two journeys of Prothasius in the services of King Matthias were recorded by Jan Długosz and Peter Eschenloer. Długosz recorded his 1468 arrival to Cracow, a private hearing and his negotiation with the King of Poland. None of these are, however, recorded in greater detail with regard to the form and procedure of the ceremony. Having received gifts, Prothasius left Poland, although he did not accomplish his objective. In addition, as an important Church personality, he held the newly-born royal son at the baptism and in accordance with his wishes the son was named Fridericus.112 During his second trip in 1471, as recorded by Peter Eschenloer, Prothasius travelled “mit hoffart”, that is with all the splendour. Eschenloer recorded an argument that took place during the diplomatic talks: Prothasius delivered his speech and the Poles replied in an entirely negative sense. None of his proposals of collaboration between the Kings of Hungary and Poland were accepted. When Prothasius wanted to object to the negative response, the Poles “did not want to hear anything and said that he had been already given his response and had better return to the one who had sent him.”113 In the first case, the bishop’s rank certainly served Prothasius well during his negotiations, as he participated in court ceremonies, such as the baptism of the royal son. In case of his second journey, his rank did not bring him any significant respect, as the valediction of the Polish royal court was certainly much less ceremonial. The diplomatic ritual was also described in the Middle Ages in various guides for diplomats.114 Here, bishops followed general rules of diplomatic 109 Urbánek, Věk poděbradský, vol. 2, p. 884. 110 Antonín Kalous, “Služba Boskovických u Matyáše Korvína,” in Sborník prací historických XXI. Acta Universitatis Palackianae Olomucensis, Facultas philosophica, Historica 33 (2007), pp. 83–99, here pp. 85–91. 111 Cf. Hledíková, Arnošt, p. 82, where she shows that Ernest of Pardubice’s authority and respect to him were increased due to his archiepiscopal office, as he became the imperial vicar in Siena. 112 Joannes Dlugossius, Annales, vol. XII. pp. 208–11. According to Natalia Nowakowska it was to honour Emperor Frederick III, Natalia Nowakowska, Church, State and Dynasty in Renaissance Poland: The Career of Cardinal Fryderyk Jagiellon (1468–1503) (Aldershot: Routledge, 2007), p. 38. 113 Eschenloer, Geschichte, vol. 2, pp. 834–9, cit. p. 839. 114 De Legatis et Legationibus Tractatus Varii, ed. Vladimir E. Hrabar (Dorpati Livonorum, 1905); cf. Donald E. Queller, The Office of Ambassador in the Middle Ages (Princeton, 1967);

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behaviour, both written and unwritten  – in this respect they did not differ from common ambassadors. The Pontifical does not mention any specific information; it only lists the prayers a prelate should pray before setting off on his journey.115 Being a diplomatic representative sent by a secular ruler could also have a positive impact on the authority of particular bishops and on the respect shown to them, as the bishop’s office could only strengthen their position. Moreover, if a bishop set off on a journey, it was an occasion for a spectacular procession. According to the words of Bernard du Rosier, the author of a tractate on ambassadors from 1436, the envoy arriving to the court where he had been sent, shall be received ceremoniously: representatives of the receiving ruler possessing a rank corresponding to that of the envoy shall meet him on his way.116 Similarly, when returning to his home court, the envoy shall be welcomed duly and with all glory.117 One of the most important diplomats in the services of the Hungarian and Bohemian King Matthias Corvinus was the Bishop of Várad (Oradea) John Filipec, who came from Prostějov, a little central-Moravian town. Later he held the post of an administrator (sometimes called a postulatus, or even a bishop) of the Olomouc bishopric.118 Filipec travelled in the King’s services often and far, not only within Central Europe – several times he visited Prague and was welcomed by university masters led by Václav Koranda, who also always mentioned his rank of a bishop and its importance.119 In this case, the bishop’s office also elevated the importance of the envoy. Those of his diplomatic travels of much greater importance were, however, headed for Italy, France, and the German lands. In Italy, on his way to Naples in 1476, he represented the ruler when, together with the Wrocław Bishop Rudolf of Rüdesheim, he led a delegation of more than six hundred people. When arriving to France eleven years later, several bishops went to greet him (as recommended by the above

115 116 117 118

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Garrett Mattingly, Renaissance Diplomacy (Harmondsworth, 1965); Gesandtschafts- und Botenwesen im spätmittelalterlichen Europa, eds. Rainer C. Schwinges and Klaus Wriedt (Ostfildern: Jan Thorbecke, 2003). Le pontifical, vol. 3, pp. 619–21; cf. also Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols. [259r–260r]. De Legatis, pp. 11–2. De Legatis, pp. 22–3. Antonín Kalous, “Jan Filipec v diplomatických službách Matyáše Korvína,” ČMM 125 (2006), pp. 3–32; Antonín Kalous, “Spor o biskupství olomoucké v letech 1482–1497,” ČČH 105 (2007), pp. 1–39; Antonín Kalous, “Itinerář Jana Filipce (1431–1509),” Sborník prací historických XXII. Acta Universitatis Palackianae Olomucensis, Facultas philosophica, Historica 34 (2008), pp. 17–43. Manuálník M. Vácslava Korandy, ed. Josef Truhlář (Prague: Královská Česká Společnost Nauk, 1888), pp. 128–31.

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mentioned Bernard du Rosier) and accompanied him on his way – even on his way back from the royal court, when he went through France back to Northern Italy. In addition, Filipec’s French delegation was surprising in its splendour, pomp, and (similar to the delegation to Naples) by the number of its members. At a different occasion, the Bishop of Várad himself was sent by the ruler to Passau to greet a papal legate heading for Buda. The greatest respect was shown to Filipec during the negotiations with the King of the Romans Maximilian in 1489 and 1490, when he walked with the papal nuncio at the side of the king, delivered the opening speech, etc. On all occasions, many presents were handed over.120 All these events and their procedure – the ceremonial entry, the order within the processions, the position at a service, the value of the gifts – all of these illustrated the importance of the individual legates and their rulers. Even though these were matters of diplomatic behaviour in general, the bishop’s rank could crucially contribute to strengthening the respect toward the envoy, emphasizing the importance of the delegation, and maybe even to the envoy’s safety. 4

Papal Legates

Diplomacy and the Church authority and jurisdiction were also connected to other medieval rituals and ceremonies taking place in a diocese. Their main protagonist was, however, not the bishop, but a papal legate or another prominent representative of the Apostolic See. Papal legates de latere were the highest representatives of the pope: to some extent, they directly represented and impersonated him. Their ritual and ceremonies deserve a separate commentary, as in the Middle Ages, legates were the highest representatives of the Church in places the pope did not reside himself. Their arrival meant a great celebration and an extraordinary situation for the diocese. The ceremony of papal legates was based especially on the Roman papal ceremony, which was more precisely defined and developed in the later Middle Ages. This was enhanced not only by the re-establishment of the Papacy in Rome and within the general Church, but also by the development of the Roman liturgy. This ceremony had multiple sources in late Middle Ages: it was rooted particularly in the 13th-century Ordo Romanus, a code describing the order of ceremonies. 120 In detail, see Kalous, “Jan Filipec,” p. 31; Kalous, “Rituály a ceremonie,” passim; about the negotiations in Linz see the contemporary record in Karl Nehring, “Quellen zur ungarischen Aussenpolitik in der zweiten Hälfte des 15. Jahrhunderts II.,” Levéltári Közlemények 47 (1976), pp. 247–67, here pp. 252–60.

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From the beginning of the 14th century come the papal ceremony of Cardinal Giacomo Stefaneschi, which was also adjusted for the situation of the papal court in Avignon, and the ceremonial order labelled as Ordo Romanus XIV.121 Later, particularly in the second half of the 15th century, the above mentioned magistri ceremoniarum participated in the creation of the papal ceremony. These were the papal masters of ceremonies Agostino Patrizi Piccolomini, Johannes Burckard, and also the famous Paride Grassi.122 The journey of a papal legate was delimited by ritual and ceremonial events in Rome, or at the Papal Curia in general. Legates were appropriately selected and appointed by the pope; they ceremoniously left the current residential town of the pope and returned there again; after their return they were received in the Consistory. All these events were described in detail in ceremonial books, in Roman diaries as well as other sources. In addition, the above mentioned masters of ceremonies were the living guardians of the tradition: apart from recording the particular rituals and ceremonies in diaries, they were consulted in case of uncertainty how to proceed.123 A stay outside Rome was also formally governed by the orders of the papal ceremony (papal legates were granted the papal insignia and the red colour of their clothes), but the individual situations were much more variable and thus required further supplements to general ceremonial rules and sometimes even an invention and aptitude of the legate himself. Apart from that, legates and their secretaries sometimes wrote the rules of conduct during the legation which were supposed to be followed by other legates. As we can see, there are normative or prescriptive sources, which, however, need to be supplemented by sources recording at least the gist of real events.124 121 Dykmans, Le cérémonial papal de la fin du moyen âge à la renaissance, vol. II. De Rome en Avignon ou Le cérémonial de Jacques Stefaneschi (Bruxelles/Rome: Institut historique belge de Rome, 1981); Schimmelpfennig, Die Zeremonienbücher, pp. 36–100; Schimmelpfennig, “Papal Coronations,” pp. 183–6. 122 In detail and with references to literature Kalous, Late Medieval, pp. 103–5. 123 Kalous, Late Medieval, pp. 105–12. Paride Grassi was, for example, asked, if the ceremonial leaving of the City belonged also to legates who travel only to Italy, in the case of Antonio de Monte, who went to Perugia as legate in 1511; see ms Città del Vaticano, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Chigi L I 19, fol. 258v; in detail analysed in Antonín Kalous, “Through the Gates and the Streets of the City: Cardinals and Their Processions in Rome in the Late Fifteenth and Early Sixteenth Centuries,” in Ritualizing the City: Collective Performances as Aspects of Urban Construction from Constantine to Mao, eds. Ivan Foletti and Adrien Palladino (Rome: Viella, 2017), s. 29–44. 124 Franz Wasner, “Fifteenth-Century Texts on the Ceremonial of the Papal ‘Legatus a latere’,” Traditio 14 (1958), pp. 295–358; Werner Maleczek, “Die päpstlichen Legaten im 14. und 15. Jahrhundert,” in Gesandtschafts- und Botenwesen im spätmittelalterlichen Europa, pp. 33–86, here pp. 68–82; Kalous, Late Medieval, pp. 103–24.

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The first appearance of the legate in individual countries or dioceses was his ceremonial entry, which could have a ritual form of the takeover of power over the diocese or province, as legates were not only the pope’s diplomatic agents, but also ordinaries of their legatine province that could incorporate multiple dioceses and metropolitan provinces.125 The guides to the ceremonial entry of a legate into the capital of the province are therefore recorded not only in various ceremonial recommendations, but also in the Pontifical. The local bishop left the most prominent position in the Church administration to the arriving legate. This disruption of the local Church administration had long been justified by the canon law. Nevertheless, the legate had to announce solemnly his commission and authority. Upon his arrival to the capital of the province, a procession came out of the cathedral church and out of the gates of the town in order to greet him. A bishop wearing all of the insignia of his office, including a mitre and a crosier, was part of the procession. After meeting the procession, the legate was supposed to kiss the cross and while singing a suitable antiphon (the texts differ based on whether the legate is also a bishop) he went to the cathedral church. The 1485 Pontifical is again much more detailed: in the town gate, the representatives of the burghers greet the legate and carry a canopy over him. The places of honour within the procession may be occupied by the canons of the cathedral church: they may even go in between the legatine cross and the legate himself. The legate then sprinkles the people with holy water in front of the main church and blesses the frankincense. Apart from that, the older versions of the Pontifical, as well as Ordo Romanus XIV, which is the papal ceremonial of the 14th century, add that the legate shall be offered to kiss the Gospel book before entering the church. There, the legate lies on the floor in front of the altar and prays while the local prelate pronounces prayers over him. When the legate gets up, a joint prayer takes place and then he blesses everyone and grants indulgences. After that, he is accompanied by the bishop and other clergy to the place of his residence.126 Probably the most famous arrival of a legate to the Bohemian lands was Cardinal Juan Carvajal’s ceremonial entry to Prague in 1448. A contemporary song described in detail his arrival, as well as the inglorious course of the procession and destruction of the canopy under which the legate was received. The song records preparations for the legate’s reception: guilds renewed their standards, candles were painted, and pupils were taught to sing. “So it happened, 125 Kalous, Late Medieval, pp. 55–69. 126 Le pontifical, vol. 3, pp. 627–9; Patrizi Piccolomini and Burckard, [Pontificalis liber], fols.  [260r–261v]; Wasner, “Fifteenth-Century Texts,” pp. 352–4; Kalous, Late Medieval, pp. 112–24.

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as it had not happened since ancient times, that a mortal man encountered such honour as the legate did. They came to meet him with standards; lords rode to receive him under the canopy with great celebration, singing Te Deum laudamus, praising the Lord, as he deigned to send such a person to us.” The legate, however, did not fulfil the Utraquists’ hopes: And for his insincerity, the retribution came to him: from God’s perpetuation, a terrible wind and storm came before they arrived to Prague, tearing the standards and breaking the canopy. That was the God’s punishment of the great pride…. Mayors of the Prague Towns led his mule very carefully. On their way to Prague, a beautiful cross was carried in front of him, the bells were ringing and people all around were amazed. Then they came to the square in front of the Týn church, where he dismounted the mule and was led to the church. The parish priest of the church, called master Papoušek, wanted to receive his sympathies, so he immediately unfolded carpets on his way. In his majesty, the legate then generously granted indulgences and gloriously blessed everyone. Oh, such a pity we missed it! … Then the lords led him to the tavern in the house called U slona (The elephant), where he was lodged with all honesty.127 The song illustrates more or less accurately the events related to the arrival of a prominent legate to Prague, which does not differ much from the general guide to the legatine ceremony, nor from the Pontifical. The legate was greeted; burghers led him under a canopy to the main church: in the Utraquist Prague this means  – as already mentioned above  – the Týn Church, where he was welcomed and he blessed the people and granted indulgences. Only the bishop was missing. Apart from that, the song mentioned an invitation to the Prague Castle  – he was welcomed on the opposite side of the Vltava River by the abbess of St. George’s Nunnery.128 The song also recorded one more general issue not mentioned by the legatine ceremonial: the female mule the legate was supposed to ride (the ceremonial often mentioned a horse on the occasion of kissing the cross in front of the town). There are, however, references to a female mule, or a hinny, in case of Girolamo Lando in 1459, or later Nicholas Cola at the beginning of the 1490s. Legates were supposed (even according to the 13th-century canonists’ discussions) to enter

127 Výbor z české literatury doby husitské, vol. 2, eds. Bohumil Havránek, Josef Hrabák and Jiří Daňhelka et al. (Prague: Československá akademie věd, 1964), pp. 95–103, quote pp. 97–9. 128 Výbor z české literatury doby husitské, vol. 2, pp. 99–100.

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their province humbly in the same way Christ entered Jerusalem riding on a donkey.129 Another source recorded the arrival of the legate similarly; Staré letopisy české: In the same year [1448], around the Ascension Day [2 May], a legate and cardinal of Sant’Angelo, named Paul [correctly John], came to Prague from Rome to cultivate the Kingdom of Bohemia. When he was approaching Prague, a great procession went out of Prague to meet him [as if] to welcome a new king. In the procession, there were all Prague students including the little as well as the big ones, canons, doctors, masters, bachelors and students, clergy, monks, and every guild of all Prague towns under their standards, and they came as far as to Krč to meet the legate. And the Old-Town councillors went in the front under a canopy, behind then the New-Town councillors and the Lesser-Town councillors carrying silver sticks according to an old tradition. They took him under the canopy and accompanied him to Prague, singing: Advenisti desiderabilis, o pater amabilis, quem expectabamus in tribulacionibus nostris, advenisti cum donis celestibus, ut benediceres omnibus bone voluntatis hominibus; that is: “You have come, our most beloved Father, awaited by us in our grief, you have come with heavenly gifts to bless all people of good will.” And when he was riding through Prague from the New Town to the Old Town, the bells were ringing in all monasteries and churches. Then they led him to the Church of Mother of God before Týn and later to the House of the Elephant. Another manuscript adds: “As it had not been heard of since ancient times that a mortal man would be paid such honour as that legate.”130 So all of Prague 129 Kalous, Late Medieval, pp. 98, 115–6. 130 Staré letopisy české z vratislavského rukopisu, ed. František Šimek (Prague: Historický spolek, 1937), pp. 104–5; Staří letopisové čeští, p. 138. The edition of 1937 adds a Beneventatio, i.e. a reception speech for the legate: “Egreditur, o pater reverendissime et domine amantissime, obviam paternitati tue tota Pragensis inclita civitas. Egrediuntur et alma doctorum, magistrorum, baccalaureorum et studentium ancilla paternitatis tue universitas. Egrediuntur et principes civitatum, magister civium et consules cum populo gaudentes, o pater, de felici adventu tuo dicentes: Advenisti desiderabilis, o pater amabilis, quem expectabamus in tribulacionibus nostris. Advenisti cum donis celestibus, ut benediceres omnibus bone voluntatis hominibus. Ingredere, o pater, civitatem nostram cum donis celestibus, age pacem populo desiderabilem, age sanctam unitatem, age salutem, concordiam salutarem, ut hec inclita civitas per te, pater, donis repleta celestibus decantare possit illum angelicum cantum vere salutarem: Et in terra pax et salus bone voluntatis hominibus. Quod prestare dignetur, o pater, altissimus in secula seculorum benedictus.”

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came to greet the legate, including the university, and he was welcomed by both the Utraquists and the Catholics. This is one of the examples, and for Prague of this period, possibly the most famous entry of a legate. This case is not, however, entirely traditional, as neither a bishop nor the ruler could welcome a legate in the town. Wrocław in Silesia, where at the time a duly ordained bishop resided, was visited by papal nuncio with the power of a legate de latere, Girolamo Lando (strictly labelled as a legate by Eschenloer) and his fellow Francesco da Toledo in 1459. The welcoming was also great: a procession with relics came out of the town to meet them, “as befits the arrival of apostolic legates,” as recorded by Peter Eschenloer. All burghers also welcomed them in front of the town gates, as in the case of Carvajal in Prague; but Eschenloer explicitly mentions that Lando was not paid such honour in Prague (as in Wrocław). No horse remained unused and all of them were appropriately decorated; three ranks went to meet the nuncios. The first one consisted of courtiers (according to German versions of the chronicle they were accompanied by young burghers and merchants and the best knights) and included over 500 riders and many standards. The German version (unlike the Latin one) states that there were 400 riders, but also fifty lancers and twenty-seven silk standards. The second rank comprised councillors and older burghers, who were not armed, but beautifully dressed. This rank went directly to the legate and consisted of about 100 people. The third rank contained masters of various guilds, who were lightly armed, but took with them also war machines (balistas). There were over 600 (in the German version 500) of them. Eschenloer said, he did not believe so many horses could be found in the town. Girolamo Lando dismounted his mule – female hinny, as in the case of Carvajal – and kissed the prelates and prominent burghers. After a negotiation about his fellow Bohemians, who were considered heretics, he entered the town, greeted by crowds of people in the streets and on the roofs. Then he came to the cathedral, where he was welcomed by prelates – that means the canons, and praise was given to God. After that, they accompanied him to his residence and all his expenses were paid by the burghers.131 This ceremonial entry shows more deviations from the standard format, as again, all conditions were not fulfilled. First, even though Girolamo Lando was In contrast, the report from the author from the legate’s entourage is very laconic and only states that the legate was honorifice susceptus, cf. Lino Gómez Canedo, OFM, Don Juan de Carvajal, cardenal de Sant’Angelo legado en Alemania y Hungria (1399?–1469): Un español al servicio de la Sante Sede (Madrid: Instituto Jeronimo Zurita, 1947), p. 303. 131 Peter Eschenloer, Historia Wratislaviensis, ed. Hermann Markgraf (Wrocław: Josef Max & Co., 1872), pp. 63–5; Eschenloer, Geschichte, vol. 1, pp. 292–4.

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the Archbishop of Crete, he was not a cardinal and thus not a legate de latere, so he was not entitled to the above described reception. For the reception of a prelate who was not a legate, the Pontifical recorded several changes. In this case, it was also necessary to take into account the fact that Bishop Jodocus of Rožmberk was not present in the town, so “prelates”, that is the canons of the Dome Chapter, participated in the welcoming. The main role in it was taken by the burghers, who wanted to present properly not only themselves, but also their military power due to their lasting loathing of the newly elected and crowned King George of Poděbrady. Even though the Pontifical allows for a cross to be substituted with relics, as mentioned by Eschenloer, the arriving nuncio kissed prelates and burghers instead of a cross. Similar to the King’s entry into Wrocław, this welcoming illustrates the “increased self-confidence of the town community” of this time.132 This fact could be supported even by the lack of interest of the chronicler Sigmund Rosicz, who was rather closer to the bishop. He recorded only the solemn mass celebrated in the cathedral by the nuncio one week after the ceremonial entry to the town (which also included a procession to the cemetery and a feast with prelates) and briefly also other activities of the nuncio in the town.133 It is, thus, clear that this welcoming of the nuncio was contrived primarily as a demonstration of the self-confidence and pride of the town community, both towards the absent bishop and the King in Prague. A very generous welcome and reception in Wrocław was also offered to the papal legate Cardinal Marco Barbo, wo came to Central Europe to negotiate the peace between the King of Hungary and the King of Poland. He visited Wrocław due to the preparation of negotiations of the Czech, Polish and Hungarian parties, and entered the town in splendour, as recorded again by Peter Eschenloer. The Wrocław burghers sent 150 riders to meet the legate, the Wrocław Bishop sent other sixty and the legate was arriving in a parade of eighty horses, while he himself came on a small horse (cleine rőslein). The papal legate entered the town “with great joy, singing and a procession” and “nobody had seen such a prelate in Wrocław before,” Eschenloer added. Marco Barbo was accommodated in the bishop’s residence and then took a walk around all the Wrocław churches. In addition, Eschenloer mentions that the legate did not want to accept any gift apart from food, drinks and fodder.134 This remark relates to the legatine ceremonial, which prohibited the acceptance of gifts (with the exception of the above-mentioned ones). This expressed 132 Čapský, “Král obklopený kacíři,” p. 69. 133 Rosicz, Sequuntur gesta diversa, pp. 76–7. 134 Eschenloer, Geschichte, vol. 2, p. 903.

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the independence of the papal legate who was supposed to remain beyond the local political and Church environment.135 The arrival of a legate is often expressly mentioned in the contemporary sources in connection with his meeting with the ruler. One of the illustrative examples is the meeting of Cardinal Marco Barbo with Casimir, the King of Poland. The meeting with one of the two competing Kings of Bohemia, Matthias Corvinus, is unfortunately not described in the sources. Barbo came to Poland via Austria and Hungary and was ceremoniously welcomed by the King and his sons, who rode to meet him from Cracow as far as to Wieliczka some twelve kilometres south-east of the Royal Castle in the city. The royal sons Casimir, John Albert and Alexander welcomed him with speeches in Latin and another speech was delivered by the Cracow scholastic and later archbishop of Gniezno Zbygniew Oleśnicki. Then, in a procession, Marco Barbo visited important churches of Cracow. A great feast was arranged in the town on the following day. One day later, the legate was granted an audience.136 Similarly, much later, in December of 1524, a papal legate de latere, Cardinal Lorenzo Campeggio was met by the King of Hungary and Bohemia Louis II with all of his court. The king went one Italian mile from the town of Buda to greet the legate; the welcoming speech was delivered by the Archbishop of Esztergom. On the following day, the legate had breakfast with the King and the Queen and then he was received by the royal council, where he delivered his speech.137 The ecclesiastical and liturgical procedure of these entries is not much highlighted. The emphasis is drawn on secular representation of the welcoming ones, even though in the case of Cardinal Campeggio, the source of information is he himself. Meetings with rulers apparently had a previously prepared protocol of procedure, whether it was based on the papal ceremony or on a general diplomatic practice. The legatine ceremonial was closely focused on this area, as it was a meeting of the highest representatives of secular and spiritual powers.138 According to Agostino Patrizi Piccolomini, the king of the country which the legate was entering should ride out from the town walls or 135 In detail, see Kalous, Late Medieval, pp. 117–8, 146–7. 136 Joanni Dlugossii Annales, vol. XII, pp. 291–2; the Latin speech of Zbygniew and Prince Casimir, see Codex epistolaris saeculi decimi quinti, vol. 1, p. 2, ed. Joseph Szujski (Cracow: Akademia Umiejętności, 1876), pp. 341–3; the report of the legate, see Antonín Kalous, Plenitudo potestatis in partibus? Papežští legáti a nunciové ve střední Evropě na konci středověku (1450–1526) (Brno: Matice moravská, 2010), pp. 264–84, here p. 265. 137 Relationes oratorum pontificiorum / Magyarországi pápai követek jelentései 1524–1526, ed. Vilmos Fraknói (Budapest: METEM, 1884; reprint 2001) (Monumenta Vaticana historiam regni Hungariae illustrantia, series 2, vol. 1), pp. 101–8, no. 32. 138 Cf. Wasner, “Fifteenth-Century Texts,” pp. 311–4; Kalous, Late Medieval, p. 117–24.

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the castle to meet him. The legate should even take the place on the right-hand side of the king, as that is the more prominent place symbolising higher dignity. The legate is superior to the king. Patrizi nevertheless suggested that the legate might cede this right to the king, but only on one occasion, so that it could not seem that the king occupied a higher position.139 The welcoming of a king by a legate was also described in the ceremonial. Marco Barbo himself reportedly received the King in his Cracow residence; as he remarks, it was cum decenti reverentia.140 Juan Carvajal stated in his recommendations that he would welcome the emperor a few steps outside the gate of his residence, a king at the foot of the stairs and another prince halfway up the stairs.141 The meetings of the ruler and the legate did not have to take place only in front of the town when the legate arrived, or in a residence of one of them. It could also happen in a traditional place of gathering of all social strata – in a church. In case the legate did not celebrate the mass himself and his position thus was not clearly specified, his authority could collide with the authority of the king, as was the case of King Louis and Cardinal Tommaso De Vio, a papal legate a latere.142 Krzysztof Szydłowiecki, the chancellor and deputy of the King of Poland, recorded an unusual situation during the celebration of All Saints’ Day in St. Martin’s parish church in Pozsony/Pressburg (Bratislava). The church was a scene of a conflict, as the legate wished to be given the Gospel sooner than the King and the Queen. Hungarian lords (domini Hungari) did not, however, want to do so, as it decreased the authority of their ruler, and they wanted to offer the Gospel and other cerimonialia to the royal couple first. As a solution of the conflict, nobody received anything – the issue of precedence was thus only delayed. It is also remarkable that the sides of the church were strictly divided to the secular and the spiritual representatives: the King and the Queen, together with the Polish envoy, with Charles of Münsterberg, George of Brandenburg, and other lords on one side, the legate and Hungarian bishops on the other side. After the end of the mass, the legate granted everyone apostolic blessing, precisely in accordance with the guidelines of the legatine ceremonial.143 On another occasion, there was no trouble – for instance, 139 Wasner, “Fifteenth-Century Texts,” pp. 331–2. 140 Kalous, Late Medieval, p. 117; Kalous, Plenitudo potestatis, p. 274. 141 Wasner, “Fifteenth-Century Texts,” p. 325: “Imperatori ad se venienti ad portam et aliquantulum aliquando extra obviabat, Regibus vero in fine scalarum, ut fit Cardinalibus, aliis magnis principibus in medio scalarum.” 142 Kalous, Late Medieval, pp. 122–3. 143 Krzysztof Szydłowiecki kancellár naplója 1523-ból, ed. István Zombori (Budapest, 2004), p. 160: “Die dominico in festo omnium sanctorum serenissimus rex et regina fuerunt in ecclesia parochiali, in qua fuit et legatus apostolicus et quia voluit legatus, uti ei prius

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when the message of the election of a new Pope, Clement VII, was brought to the court. The King and the Queen rode horses to St. Martin’s, where the Polish envoy and other lords were awaiting them. In their presence, the papal legate celebrated a solemn mass and granted blessings. Te Deum laudamus was sung, volleys were shot from canons, etc. The legate dined with the envoys of the King of Poland and of the Archduke of Austria, and they all rejoiced together with the royal couple.144 It is obvious that the presence of a papal legate at the royal court could have created a wide range of complicated situations. In particular, frequent collisions of the legate’s and the king’s authority, as the king could not always leave the privileged position to the legate; the lords of the kingdom were also against it. Apart from the above-mentioned ceremonies, legates could participate in liturgy and other celebrations taking place at the royal court. In 1372, a papal nuncio, John de Cardailhac, the Patriarch of Alexandria, was staying in Prague at the court of King and Emperor Charles IV. He had been sent by the pope to negotiate on issues of the Holy See. Cardailhac was not a legate, but he was such a prominent prelate that he participated in ceremonies of the Prague court. In the presence of the Emperor, he consecrated branches on Palm Sunday, at Easter he led all the ceremonies, and on Holy Saturday he baptised the newly born son of the Emperor.145 Legates also led marriage ceremonies. The wedding liturgy at the wedding of King Matthias Corvinus and Queen Beatrice of Aragon, a daughter of the King of Naples, was led by the Franciscan Gabriel Rangoni, who had acted as a papal nuncio in Central Europe for almost ten years. In 1474, two years before the wedding, he was even appointed a nuncio with the authority of a legate de latere. His engagement in the wedding could, however, also have other reasons: he was an Italian (it may have been Matthias’s thoughful gesture towards his bride and her entourage) and also Bishop of Eger and the royal secret chancellor.146 Much more offeratur evangelium et alia et domini Hungari noluerunt omnino admittere volentes, ut omnia cerimonialia prius afferrantur regi et regine et ob eam causam neque regi et regine neque legato oblatum est evangelium nec alia cerimonialia etc. In ea parte, ubi serenissimi rex et regina steterunt, primum locum tenuit in stallo dominus orator regis Polonie, deinde illustrissimus dux Carolus, Georgius marchio post hoc voyewoda Transilvanie tandem marchio Vilhelmus et sic alii domini. In alia parte legatus ex opposito regis et in illa parte domini Hungarie episcopi steterunt. Post missam legatus dedit benedictionem …”; Wasner, “Fifteenth-Century Texts,” pp. 314, 322. 144 Krzysztof Szydłowiecki, p. 195. 145 Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, p. 545; Kavka, Vláda Karla IV., vol. 2, p. 136. 146 Cf. Kalous, Plenitudo potestatis, pp. 227–30; Petr Hlaváček, “Ein Franziskaner und Diplomat Gabriel Rangoni von Verona († 1486) und sein Engagement in Ostmitteleuropa und Italien,” in Idem, Die böhmischen Franziskaner im ausgehenden Mittelalter: Studien zur

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interesting is the activity of Cardinal Pietro Isvalies, who led the liturgy at the wedding of King Vladislav (Ulászló) II of Bohemia and Hungary and his bride, young Anne of Foix-Candale. Josef Macek, who wrote in detail about Anne and Vladislav, unfortunately did not focus on the wedding and similarly to the Czech chronicler, he “only made a brief remark.”147 Quite surprisingly, it was dealt with in much greater detail by the above mentioned papal master of ceremonies Paride Grassi; in his Roman Diary, he noted the liturgical order for the wedding of the royal couple. The wedding took place in September of the year 1502, when Cardinal Pietro Isvalies stayed in Hungary and as the highest prelate, he performed the wedding liturgy. The record by Paride Grassi is dated to November of the year 1504 – that is one year after the cardinal’s return from Hungary to Rome, so perhaps the legate made this text available to Grassi, while he himself returned to the papal court (or, more probably, Grassi himself was the author of the liturgical order). The wedding liturgy was not exceptional in any way, except for the fact that it was arranged for that particular occasion and contains the name of the bride as well.148 The position of a legate could also be received by archbishops based on their metropolitan church. In the late Middle Ages, this office was usually only a matter of formality, even though in the second half of 14th century, this title was newly given to the Prague Archbishop. While the Archbishop of Esztergom, who also titled himself as a papal legate (legatus natus), did not relate any real authority and competence to this position anymore, Emperor Charles IV hoped that this dignity would strengthen the position and authority of the Archbishop of Prague. That is why this dignitary acted in his office incorporating not only the jurisdictional authority of a legate within his metropolitan province as well as in the bishoprics of Regensburg, Bamberg and Kirchen- und Kulturgeschichte Ostmitteleuropas (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2011), pp. 135–51. 147 Josef Macek, Tři ženy krále Vladislava (Prague, 1991), p. 157; cf. Staří letopisové čeští, p. 223. 148 ms Città del Vaticano, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Chigi L I 17, fols. 161r–169r: Ordo servandus in sponsaliis regiis, quem servavit cardinalis Reginus in Vngheria quando rex desponsavit reginam anno MDII. Cf. also the reports on the wedding, which are usually eclipsed by the reports on the coronation administered by the Archbishop of Esztergom Cardinal Tamás Bakóc, “Közlemények a párisi nemzeti könyvtárból,” ed. Henrik Marczali, Magyar Történelmi Tár 23 (1877), pp. 83–122, here p. 104; and also Marino Sanuto noted the report of the Venetian ambassadors in Hungary, I diarii di Marino Sanuto, vol. 4, ed. Nicolò Barozzi (Venice: F. Visentini, 1880), col. 348; for context, see Gusztáv Wenzel, “II. Ulászló magyar és cseh királynak házas élete 1501–1506,” Századok 11 (1877), pp. 630–41, 727–57, 816–40, here pp. 755–6. Cf. Antonín Kalous, “Late Medieval Nuptial Rites: Paride Grassi and the Royal Wedding of Székesfehérvár (Hungary) in 1502,” Questions Liturgiques/ Studies in Liturgy 97 (2016), pp. 51–64.

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Meissen, but also carrying ceremonial connotations. The pope granted the archbishop legatine attire: “a silver gilded cross, a wide black hat and a hood from dark-red cloth.”149 In the dioceses mentioned above, the archbishop could use his pallium. And, as the symbols of the legatine authority mediating the apostolic power inherent also to legates sent by the Holy See, as soon as they leave the diocese where the pope is residing, he could have a cross carried in front of him and grant blessings to people and clergy. Even in other dioceses, two Prague canons in white mitres could assist the archbishop at a mass.150 Being granted such a rank and in particular exercising it meant a significant strengthening of the Prague Archbishop’s position in the international field, and thus also strengthening of the policy of Emperor Charles IV. As obvious in the cases of Ernest of Pardubice and his successors, who achieved this title, the Archbishop of Prague temporarily became one of the most important prelates of the empire. A few examples will hopefully suffice to elucidate at least partially the ceremonial role that was granted to legates by the Papal Curia. However, most of them were bishops at the same time, so they followed the general ceremonial of bishops recorded in the Pontifical. Still, their role was dual, which was also reflected in the form of their symbolic behaviour. They had to define themselves not only against other prelates and Church dignitaries in the diocese, when they arrived and to some extent replaced the bishop’s power, but also against the power of secular rulers, who competed with them over the crucial position at court celebrations, processions or diplomatic meetings even more than the bishops. As representatives of papal power and direct deputies of the pope, papal legates de latere required a key position on all occasions. It was noted by the chronicler Cosmas already in the 12th century that one legate “acted with such dignity and power, as if the pope himself was present in person,”151 and even the canon law set the obligation to honour highly a legate (or a nuncio) as a representative of the pope with full authority.152 149 Chronicon Benessii de Weitmil, frb IV, p. 533: “… crucem argenteam deauratam et pileum latum nigrum ac cappam de panno bruneto….” The basic study, Zdeňka Hledíková, “Die Prager Erzbischöfe als ständige päpstliche Legaten: Ein Beitrag zur Kirchenpolitik Karls IV.,” Beiträge zur Geschichte des Bistums Regensburg 6 (1972), pp. 221–56. 150 Bestowment of the legatine title, see MVB, vol. III, pp. 274–7, no. 478; the pallium, cross and benediction, see pp. 280–1, no. 490; white mitres, see pp. 286–7, no. 499; cf. Hledíková, “Die Prager Erzbischöfe,” pp. 227–33. 151 Die Chronik der Böhmen des Cosmas von Prag, ed. Bertold Bretholz, mgh SRG NS 2 (Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1923), p. 125: “Quo cum pervenisset missus apostolici, invenit ducem Wratizlaum in urbe Praga, cui offernes apostolicam benedictionem et universalis patris adoptivam filiationem tanta auctoritate usus est et potestate, ac si idem summus pontifex ipse presens fuisset.” 152 Kalous, Late Medieval, pp. 112–4.

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Summary

To study rituals and ceremonies based on the authority of bishops means dealing with a vast complex of celebrations and a wide source base. The bishop’s rituals stem especially from the liturgy based on the Pontifical, which was the fundamental book describing the behaviour of a bishop. The essence of the bishop’s office results in the fact that the majority of these rituals take place in the Church environment and are closely related to either spiritual or general Church administration of the particular diocese. The crucial ritual was of course the establishment of a new bishop. His objective was then to implement rituals ensuring the proper operation of the diocese, whether it was ordination of priests and consecration of churches, or confirmation of believers. Bishops also held the judicial power including Church punishments that had to be properly and ceremoniously announced or performed, so that they would become generally known. Also, this aspect was based on the liturgy drafted in the Pontifical. Even though the Church environment was the most important part of the bishop’s self-presentation, his role was often reflected outside the sacral area of the church. While ceremonial processions still fall into the bishop’s authority, bishops played an important role in all the celebrations of the court society and thus also in the ruler’s ceremonial entry to a town. They did not participate in various court feasts only as courtiers, but also as representatives of the ruler – that is, in his diplomatic services. The combination of their own bishop’s authority and the authority entrusted to them by the ruler could play an important role in their diplomatic practice. Papal legates were also diplomats to some extent, and their person incorporated several functions as well. They often followed the Pontifical, as the majority of them simultaneously held the office of a bishop, but their ceremonial role was also influenced by the simple fact that they were cardinals, and as such they represented and even impersonated the pope. Their behaviour was thus regulated not only by the cardinal’s ritual, but also – and primarily – by the papal ritual. In several cases, conflicts over a prominent position were recorded, if a legate met a ruler, although for the Papal Curia this matter was clear: the importance of a legate de latere unambiguously surpassed that of all Church hierarchs as well as secular rulers. All of these areas of the bishop’s ritual or generally the ritual of prelates were basically at the same level in the Czech milieu of the late Middle Ages as in the rest of Europe. Even though various Church diocesan structures were still being established, the bishop’s authorities and the bishop’s rank were already clearly defined on the basis of the developed canon law. In rituals and ceremonies, all the bishops of the Bohemian lands thus clearly presented their rank and authority related to their Church office and their role within the society.

Chapter 7

Holidays and Celebrations in Medieval Towns in Bohemia and Moravia Tomáš Borovský If no amusement is had, Who could withstand that.

The Argument Between Prague and Kutná Hora

∵ Celebrations and rituals are the exceptions to everyday life that strengthen the ties of the celebrating community, connect it to the sacred, and confirm the community’s fundamental values. They are necessary for human life, but they also cannot take place too often in order to maintain the tension between moments of celebration and the everyday. The medieval city was not an exception to these general conditions and the spectrum of celebrations encountered in towns is extraordinarily broad and diverse. Holidays and celebrations accompanied a burgher throughout his life. Some were cyclically repeated while others came irregularly. Some were celebrated by all the inhabitants and others were reserved for certain corporations: guilds, parishes, and literary brotherhoods, or for the family. Most holidays directly rendered or confirmed the functional order of civic society, but some celebrations were “reversed.” In their case, the confirmation of order came from presenting a negative image through a lack of restraint and anarchy. In this chapter, we primarily cover holidays celebrated by the entire city, but we also discuss the more general contours of urban festivities.1 Before we analyse individual celebrations and holidays and their culturalanthropological coordinates, we have to understand the frequency with which the medieval city held festivities. The basic outline of urban holidays was set 1 On the categories of holidays and celebrations, see Michael Maurer, “Prolegomena zu einer Theorie des Festes,” in Das Fest. Beiträge zu seiner Theorie und Systematik, ed. Idem (Cologne/ Weimar/Vienna: Böhlau, 2004), pp. 19–54; Michael Maurer, “Feste und Feiern als historischer Forschungsgegenstand,” HZ 253 (1991), pp. 101–30. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004514010_009

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by the religious calendar with the regular weekly cycle of six workdays and Sunday, during which the thoughts of all burghers should turn to God and other spiritual concerns and not just during mass. The weekly routine was enlivened by other Christian holidays: the fundamental ones were associated with the birth and the Passion of Christ; the late Middle Ages added the feast of Corpus Christi; and there were also Marian holidays as well as those of the most important saints that differed from diocese to diocese. This yielded another 40 holidays outside Sunday observed more or less throughout the year in the Prague and Olomouc dioceses, with the most important festivities lasting several celebratory days.2 The display of reliquaries and consecration of urban churches, chapels, and newly-founded monasteries were of course part and parcel of religious holidays. The late Middle Ages also saw the rise of public sermons given by significant church personalities. The Czech lands were most influenced by John Capistrano’s spectaculum fidei.3 Religious festivities were supplemented in the medieval city by holidays associated with legal and economic life: the annual renewal of the city council, trials concerning serious crimes and public executions, and anniversary markets. Cities also regularly celebrated the feasts of their holy patrons and the saints to which the main parish church was consecrated, as well as to mark significant moments in its history, such as important military victories. The last type of holiday we need to mention was undoubtedly the most important, but it was celebrated with the least frequency. The adventus regis: the king’s entrance into a city or the less celebratory welcome of other important guests. Most holidays took place regularly and the confluence of regular and irregular festivities (public trials and executions, a visit by the sovereign, the marking of a victory of the city over its enemies, of the sovereign over heretics, over barbarians, etc.) meant the number of holidays could exceed a quarter of the year. At first glance, this concise summary and the resulting total of holidays contradicts our introductory thesis that holidays should not take place too often in order to maintain their exceptional character; this despite having yet mentioned corporate and family holidays. It seems as though the medieval burgher 2 Pražské synody a koncily předhusitské doby, eds. Jaroslav V. Polc and Zdeňka Hledíková (Prague: Karolinum, 2002), pp. 143–4, no. 55; Synody a statuta olomoucké diecéze období středověku, ed. Pavel Krafl (Prague: Historický Ústav AV ČR, 2003), pp. 151–3. Of course, the situation was different in Utraquist cities after the Hussite Wars, compare the reformed cult of saints with Ota Halama, Otázka svatých v české reformaci. Její proměny od doby Karla IV. do doby České konfese (Brno: L. Marek, 2002); Josef Macek, Víra a zbožnost jagellonského věku (Prague: Argo, 2001), especially pp. 66–86. 3 František Šmahel, “Spectaculum fidei českomoravské mise Jana Kapistrana,” Z kralické tvrze 14 (1987), pp. 1519 (newly printed in a collection of works by the same author Mezi středověkem a renesancí, (Prague: Argo, 2002), pp. 402–8).

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was in actuality homo festivans,4 moving through the year’s celebrations and sitting down to work only in the short pauses between holidays.5 However, not all festivities had the same significance, and they did not take place in the same way. Burghers were well-oriented in the numerous festivities that were ordered into an imaginary hierarchy to strengthen the religious or lay part of the celebrations according to the needs of the time. This all while the circle of direct participants and spectators was interchanged as were the social groups targeted by the festivities, either to bring them entertainment, to remind them of the eternal order, or to subjugate themselves to lay authority. The following text must be preceded by a specification. A historian’s work is always locked between efforts to capture the endless colour of past epochs with the necessity to present a picture of the past with clearly defined contours and shadows. The abstract medieval city includes several types of urban conglomerates: from small, subjugated towns to royal residences with tens of thousands of inhabitants, which is true outside of Christian Europe as well, as “only” in the Czech kingdom.6 Celebrations in small towns probably did not differ much in their character from rural festivities, while large cities and agglomerations willingly accepted elements of courtly culture and integrated them into their cultural system. Here, we will focus our attention on the latter with the knowledge that the exclusion of smaller towns means we are ignoring a fundamental source of inspiration for urban society rooted in so-called popular culture.7 Similarly, the same holidays were not celebrated in exactly the same way each time as the inhibiting power of ceremonial rites only became prominent beginning in the late Middle Ages. Medieval celebrations and rituals did not take place according to an unchanging set of norms, but flexibly combined individual elements together into a collection of forms, adapting the functions and goals of celebrations in reaction to the current situation in society.8 Despite the large number of unified elements, each medieval celebration 4 I borrowed an abbreviation first used by Josef Válka, “Homo festivans,” in Slavnosti a zábavy na dvorech a v rezidenčních městech raného novověku, eds. Václav Bůžek and Pavel Král (České Budějovice: Jihočeská univerzita. Historický ústav, 2000), pp. 5–19. 5 Cf. the number of work days in Jaroslav Čechura, “Počet pracovních dnů v Čechách v pozdním středověku,” Časopis Národního muzea 158 (1989), pp. 157–70. 6 On the types of cities in the Czech kingdom, see František Hoffmann, Středověké město v Čechách a na Moravě (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 2009). 7 Cf. Aron J. Gurevič, Nebe, peklo, svět. Cesty k lidové kultuře středověku (Prague: H&H, 1996), especially pp. 19–92; conceptually see Peter Burke, Variety kulturních dějin (Brno: Centrum pro studium demokracie a kultury, 2006), pp. 131–42; Peter Burke, Lidová kultura v raně novověké Evropě (Prague: Argo, 2005), pp. 48–84, and Carlo Ginzburg, Sýr a červi. Svět jednoho mlynáře kolem roku 1600 (Prague: Argo, 2000). 8 Cf. Gerd Althoff, “Die Kultur der Zeichen und Symbole,” in Idem, Inszenierte Herrschaft. Geschichtsschreibung und politisches Handeln im Mittelalter (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche

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was unique, however, in this space we attempt to determine their fundamental common denominators. Among the causes of order are six days of work that God gave us as an example, how, when and why religious servants should pray and worship. Jan Hus, A discussion of Faith, the Ten Commandments, and the Pastoral

The separation of religious and lay holidays is not entirely accurate, however, because all types of urban festivities included sacred and profane components that were combined into a higher unit. We first discuss the main religious holidays experienced by the inhabitants of the medieval city. The outward parts of religious holidays were understandably carried out by clerics, but behind the liturgical acts and festive processions there was a second layer of celebrations fed by the people’s beliefs and superstitions or by the simple desire to familiarise the rank-and-file inhabitants of the city with the more difficult to understand subtleties of Christianity. Most religious holidays saw church regulations intermingle with a diverse system of popular ideas filled with faith in the magical effects of ritual practices that combined Christian faith with the lasting residue of pagan times.9 The missal made around 1423 on order of Oldřich of Krumlov, the former parish priest of the church of St. James in Brno, can serve as a guide to religious festivities in a medieval city. Oldřich had the missal made for the foundation of the altar of St. Philip and St. James and he was the first holder of the benefice.10 Missal calendars did not always respect the synod’s regulations. I Instead of the prescribed holidays, they often reflected the actual practice, which is also the case of Oldřich’s missal. The Christian year was placed into the clear structure of the Roman calendar. We do not begin with January 1, however, instead going back one week to Christmas and the birth of Christ, which often marked the new year in urban calendars (although from the strictly liturgical point of view we should return to the first Sunday of advent). (figure 7.1)

Buchgesellschaft, 2003), pp. 293, 295–6; Martin Kintzinger, “Der weiße Reiter. Formen internationaler Politik im Spätmittelalter,” Frühmittelalterliche Studien 37 (2003), p. 319. 9 František Šmahel, “Stärker als der Glaube: Magie, Aberglaube und Zauber in der Epoche des Hussitismus,” Bohemia. Zeitschrift für Geschichte und Kultur der böhmischen Länder 32 (1991), pp. 316–37. 10 ms Brno, Archiv města Brna, Svatojakubská knihovna, no. 7. On the missal, see Pavol Černý, “Misál. Brno, před rokem 1423,” in Od gotiky k renesanci. Výtvarná kultura Moravy a Slezska 1400–1550, vol. II. Brno, ed. Kaliopi Chamonikola (Brno: Moravská Galerie v Brně, 1999), pp. 492–4; for a reproduction of the calendar see Tomáš Borovský, “Čas, minulost, memoria středověkého Brna,” Brno v minulosti a dnes 20 (2007), pp. 547–9.

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Figure 7.1 The Adoration of Baby Jesus in the Missal of Oldřich of Krumlov with the depiction of the donor (Borovský)

At the beginning of the 15th century when Jan of Holešov, a Benedictine monk at the Břevnov monastery, explained to his friend, the priest Přibyslav of Lysá, the traditions associated with the birth of Jesus, he was aware of the above-mentioned reality that almost every holiday in the liturgical calendar had a collection of popular traditions associated with it, usually significantly foreign to the Christian faith.11 Jan recounted the seven main traditions: fasting 11

“Jan z Holešova, Pojednání o Štědrém večeru,” in Výbor z české literatury od počátků po dobu Husovu (Prague: Československá akademie věd, 1957), pp. 743–749 (all quotes in this paragraph come from this source); part of the translation with a commentary was re-printed by Václav Frolec a kol., Vánoce v české kultuře (Prague: Vyšehrad, 1988), pp. 48–64; for a broader context see Šmahel, “Stärker als der Glaube,” pp. 316–37.

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until the stars were visible in the evening; generosity in hospitality (which gave Christmas Eve it name Štědrý večer, or literally Generous Eve in Czech and which is also associated with the giving of gifts); white bread and Christmas pastries on the table for Christmas Eve; an abundance of fruit; carols; and placing a straw bed into rooms and churches. The educated Benedictine did not denounce the traditions, but used the spirit of contemporary learning to combine the individual elements as a contrasting image of the correct understanding of Christian piety confronted by the devil’s attempts to confuse the simple people. Many of the described traditions were observed as late as our grandmothers’ lives, which proves that Jan of Holešov did not create a negative image of Christmas Eve traditions according to stories related to him, but from his own observations. The sequence of the seven traditions and their sinful reversed variations illustratively creates the form of how inhabitants of medieval cities celebrated Christ’s birth. Pious burghers fasted all day in expectation of the festive evening, while their less devout neighbours used the occasion to enjoy the delights that belonged to the holiday – “some on such a ceremonial eve overeat, some drink to excess, while others not only to the evening star, but to the morning star remain awake to the praise of the devil, playing at dice in this most holy of evenings, testing their luck at dice for the whole of the next year.” When darkness fell and the first stars appeared on the freezing and quickly falling night sky, it was time to break the fast. An abundance of food and fruit appeared upon tables, with hay laid underneath them. It is difficult to say whether the Christmas fast ended in a dinner that included fish, but it is possible as fish was considered a sought-after delicacy, at least among higher social circles. The treats included goods baked using wheat flour instead of the usual rye12 variously sweetened with honey. Generosity was not just meant for the feast and the household including the animals, but also for one’s fellow man. Beggars who came to the door were not to be turned away empty-handed, even though burghers opened their money pouches not to give on the holiday evening, but in the faith that the alms will assure them of an abundance of coin in the coming year. The same intent was the driving force behind sending gifts to friends and rewarding messengers who brought gifts to them: not in memory of the “heavenly gift, but so they have good luck all next year.” The exchange of gifts was also among the pillars of medieval society as they created and 12

For accuracy, it should be noted that the description “white” is relative and the closest would probably be today’s popular spelt flour, which was produced in the Czech lands only sparingly in the Middle Ages, cf. Magdalena Beranová and Antonín Kubačák, Dějiny zemědělství v Čechách a na Moravě (Prague: Nakladatelství Libri, 2010), pp. 72–4, 209–10.

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strengthened social ties. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were not the only opportunities for gifting,13 but let us return to the holiday itself. The evening’s consumption of fruit was also critically noted by Jan as men and women tried to divine what the future held for them by slicing the fruit open. And for many a couple, the soft hay bedding served a different purpose than as a reminder of the Virgin Mary’s puerperium. The climax of the day, however, was the midnight mass held in the parish church. Here, burghers met their friends and in religious contemplation listened to the prophetic words of the Gospels. The overflowing church nave, festively decorated and lit by a throng of candles, was the place where entire families gathered. The ceremonial atmosphere was thus enlivened by restless children, hushed whispers, and the muffled laughter of adolescents as well as the quiet conversations between the honoured men and women of the city that many a pastor complained about. The church, to the ire of the clerics, was one of the main places for communication in the medieval city and not just during religious holidays. Christmas celebrations differed from other religious holidays by the absence of a procession that did not take place on either of the following holidays of St. Stephan and John the Evangelist. Instead, the church played witness to a blessing of wine and oats and water and salt, respectively, which was to bring abundance and health in the coming year.14 The nearly two-week period between Christmas Day and the Epiphany on January 6 had a dense concentration of holidays.15 Christmas was immediately followed by the feasts of St. Stephen and St. John the Evangelist, the Feast of the Innocents (which Oldřich of Krumlov in his missal recorded in black ink and not the red that denoted high holidays), the Feast of the Circumcision of Christ on January 1, and finally the aforementioned Epiphany. The carnival period began on the Epiphany, culminating in a popular celebration on the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday. Representatives of the church were suspicious of this time and tried to maintain the Christian nature of these festivities. In Oldřich’s missal, the months of January and February include the high 13

14 15

On the question of gifting in pre-modern society, see the inspiring works by Natalie Zenon Davis, The Gift in Sixteenth Century France (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), and Valentina Groebner, Gefährliche Geschenke. Ritual, Politik und die Sprache der Korruption in der Eidgenossenschaft im späten Mittelalter und am Beginn der Neuzeit (Konstanz: Universitätverlag Konstanz GmbH, 2000); and furthermore, František Šmahel, The Parisian Summit, 1377–78, Emperor Charles IV and King Charles V of France (Prague: Karolinum, 2014), pp. 388–95. Zdeňka Hledíková, “Slavnosti církevního roku – v kostele i na ulici,” Documenta Pragensia 12 (1995), pp. 48–50. On the Christmas Octave, see Adolf Adam, Liturgický rok. Historický vývoj a současná praxe (Prague: Vyšehrad, 1998), pp. 136–41.

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holidays of the Feast of St. Agnes (January 21), the Conversion of the Apostle Paul (January 25), Candlemas (February 2, during which candles were consecrated and the burghers then lit the candles in their homes to protect themselves from demonic forces16), and the Feast of St. Agatha (February 5). On this day, Brno’s burghers were already impatiently awaiting the climax of the carnival season, at least they were in 1423 when the missal was probably created. Ash Wednesday, which began the fasting period before Good Friday, fell on February 17. Just as on the three Christmas holidays, there were no processions and all the liturgical acts took place inside the church. Priests probably used the branches blessed on the previous year’s Palm Sunday to make the ashes used to mark worshippers. A remembrance of Jesus’s entrance into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday marked the end of the fast. During the Lent of 1423, Brno’s burghers celebrated the Feast of the Chair of St. Peter (February 22), the Feast of Saint Matthias (February 24), the Feast of Pope Gregory I (March 12), and the Annunciation (March 25). The Sunday following the Annunciation was Palm Sunday, which fell on March 28, 1423. The inhabitants of the city gathered in the church on Palm Sunday from where a procession embarked for another location. However, medieval sources from Brno and other places do not tell us where the procession went, nor whether it was inside or (more probably) outside the city walls. At this place, which was supposed to be reminiscent of the Mount of Olives, green branches were blessed and then carried to the parish church while antiphons were sung and then a mass was celebrated.17 The blessed green branches, which were used to decorate the church (and the burgher’s homes), can be seen in an illumination from a passional owned by Olomouc canon Jan Kalivoda from the beginning of the 16th century. The illuminator concentrated on depicting the main moments of the celebration outside the cathedral space, including the procession of priests and pupils, most probably from the St. Wenceslas cathedral school. They wore white clothing symbolising purity and resurrection and left the church gates for the place of consecration where other clerics awaited them with a large cross. The importance of the procession was stressed not only by the branches, but also by large burning candles, the Gospels, and the images carried by individual participants.18 16 17 18

Tomáše ze Štítného Knížky šestery o obecných věcech křesťanských, ed. Karel J. Erben (Prague: Universita Karlo-Ferdinandova, 1852), p. 308. Hledíková, “Slavnosti církevního roku,” pp. 50–2. On the missal, see Od gotiky k renesanci. Výtvarná kultura Moravy a Slezska 1400–1550, vol. III. Olomoucko, eds. Ivo Hlobil and Marek Perůtka (Olomouc: Muzeum umění Olomouc, 1999), pp. 489–91; on the Olomouc school in the period see Dějiny Olomouce, vol. 1, ed. Jindřich Schulz (Olomouc: Univerzita Palackého, 2009), pp. 215–6.

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Palm Sunday was a prelude to the second liturgical climax of the Christian year: Good Friday. It began on Maundy Thursday (which was celebrated on April 1st, 1423), when besides the unveiling of altars, gifts (bread, fish, etc.) were blessed and placed on the altar. Burghers that visited one of the monastery churches could observe how the superior washed the feet of his brothers. A special scene was witnessed by the burghers of Olomouc in 1523 when King Louis II of Hungary and his wife Mary of Austria entered the city gates just before Palm Sunday and remained in the city through the holidays. According to the Olomouc chronicle, they took part in the washing of feet and the Queen herself was said to have cleaned the feet of 23 selected beggars who she then presented with gifts and served at their table. The text of the chronicle is a bit unclear and allows for the supposition that the feet were washed during the ceremonial entrance of the King to the city and again on Maundy Thursday. Louis’s actions were led by both piety and an effort to stress the Christian nature of royal power through mimicking Christ’s actions. Rex iustus et misericordus first showed his merciful side and when the Octave of Easter was over, it was time to show the inhabitants that succumbed to the Lutheran heresy the side of a punishing but fair judge. Lutheran preacher Pavel Speratus, who turned a significant group of people in Jihlava to the reformation and came to Olomouc on the summons of the bishop, was placed in jail and his heretical books were consumed by the flames of a public fire on the Olomouc square. That same day, Louis, who personally observed the burning of the books, may have left the city.19 Let us return to the Easter holidays. Bells were rung for the last time during the blessing of the Eucharist at the evening mass on Maundy Thursday and the bells of the city’s churches remained silent at the beginning of Friday’s liturgy instead of ringing as they did at noon on every other Friday of the year.20 The burghers gathered in the church where the cross was venerated and then placed into a grave followed by a mass. Only Holy Saturday offered the opportunity for public performances, as the fire and water that were to be consecrated in the church were brought from outside areas by processions. The holy 19

20

Olmützer Sammel-Chronik vom Jahre 1432 bis 1656, ed. Beda Dudík (Brno, 1858), pp. 5–6; concisely Dějiny Olomouce, vol. 1, p. 258. Šimon Ennius Klatovský in his praise of Olomouc mentions King Ferdinand, who allegedly washed the feet of beggars and fed and clothed them at the Dominican abbey all while dressed in simple linen clothes, but it cannot be ruled out that an Olomouc humanist attributed to Ferdinand acts performed by his royal predecessor, Humanisté o Olomouci, ed. Eduard Petrů (Prague: Památnik Národního Písemnictví, 1977), p. 32. Synody a statuta olomoucké diecéze, p. 141; “Das Granum catalogi praesulum Moraviae,” ed. Johann Loserth, Archiv für Österreichische Geschichte 78 (1892), p. 96.

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water was probably also used to christen children.21 Easter Sunday gave more room for lay activities even though the celebrations on this day were most probably directed by the church. The elevation of the cross from the grave, its carrying to the church altar, the singing of Te Deum, and the celebratory mass with all in attendance taking communion occurred in a sanctified space under the leadership of clerics.22 However, the staged meeting of women with an angel sitting on an empty grave showed the intermingling of lay elements that developed the original story, especially if the performance took place outside sacred spaces. Even performances directed by clerics offered opportunities for spectacular scenes, especially when using physical objects, such as a carved Christ on a wooden donkey pulled to the church on Palm Sunday, a Christ with arms that moved that could be taken down form the cross and placed into a grave on Good Friday, or pulled up through an opening in the church arching (as still can be seen in the church of St. Nicholas in Znojmo) on the Ascension.23 Tables that had been bare during weeks of fasting now strained under the weight of an abundance of meat dishes, Easter candles, sanctified hot cross buns, eggs, and pastries baked into the image of lambs.24 After Easter, the rush of Christian festivities gradually subsided. The holidays celebrated on the Friday after Quasimodo Sunday (Low Sunday, the first Sunday after Easter, which were not associated with significant celebrations in Bohemian and Moravian towns), were according to Oldřich’s missal followed only at the end of April: the Feast of St. George and St. Adalbert of Prague (April 23) and the Feast of Mark the Evangelist (April 25). The Feast of St. Philip and St. James on May 1 was a major holiday for Oldřich as the beneficiary of the eponymous altar, and he highlighted the feast of St. Pope Urban I (May 25), which was followed in 1423 by the seventh post-Easter Sunday and the Feast of the Holy Trinity. Before that, on Thursday May 13, the inhabitants of Brno celebrated the Ascension (the Thursday after the fifth Sunday after Easter), during which a procession probably carried the cross to a raised placed.25 The 21 22 23

24 25

Hledíková, “Slavnosti církevního roku,” pp. 53–4. The second date for christenings was during Pentecost or the seventh Sunday after Easter, Tomáše ze Štítného Knížky šestery, p. 308. Adam, Liturgický rok, especially pp. 67–88; Ladislav Pokorný, Z dějin liturgie u nás (Prague: Ústředním církevním nakladatelství, 1969), pp. 63–8. Petr Uličný, “Kristus v pohybu. Přemístitelné objekty v liturgii středověkých Čech,” Umění 59 (2011), pp. 126–44; on Easter plays see Jarmila Veltruská, Posvátné a světské. Osm studií o starém českém divadle (Prague: Divadelní ústav, 2006); Václav Černý, Staročeská milostná lyrika a další studie ze starší české literatury (Prague: Mladá fronta, 1999), edition of play Mastičkář pp. 299–322. Tomáše ze Štítného Knížky šestery, p. 307. Hledíková, “Slavnosti církevního roku,” p. 55.

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Thursday three weeks later was reserved for a holiday that grew in popularity in Europe from the end of the 13th century: the Feast of Corpus Christi (on the Thursday after the Feast of the Holy Trinity, or the eighth Sunday after Easter). Let us leave aside theories that this holiday was added to the church calendar as a pious counterweight to the carefree carnival. Its popularity is undoubtedly associated with the growth of Eucharistic worship and the new piety of the 13th and 14th centuries as processions of Corpus Christi quickly became part of summer festivities.26 In 1423, the feast took place on Thursday, June 3, and regardless of the tension of the Hussite War period (or possibly because of it) the burghers of Brno certainly celebrated it grandly. The procession of Corpus Christi left the church and returned after circling the city. The central point was the priest and the sacraments, most probably under a canopy, but the procession through the city and extensive participation also presented an opportunity for leading burghers to publicly demonstrate their power and wealth. Oldřich of Krumlov and the inhabitants of Brno were not resigned to only one procession and could select from several component ones organised by the city’s individual ecclesiastic institutions.27 In 1465, when Pope Paul II commissioned the provost of Dolní Kounice and the abbot of Třebíč to decide the conflict between the city and the chapter of St. Peter over the Corpus Christi procession, he stated in his summary of the burghers’ requests that their procession takes place with the approval of Pope Urban (most probably Urban VI, 1378–1389), with the participation of the city’s monastic population, and the inhabitants of Brno created a brotherhood that carries a banner and candles in the procession to celebrate God’s glory (“vexilla et luminaria ad laudem et gloriam ipsius”). The procession significantly benefited the parish 26

27

Dietz-Rüdiger Moser, “Fastnacht und Fronleichnam als Gegenfeste. Festgestaltung und Festbrauch im liturgischen Kontext,” in Feste und Feiern im Mittelalter, eds. Detlef Altenburg, Jörg Jarnut and Hans-Hugo Steinhoff (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1991), pp. 359–76, especially pp. 369–75; on details of the procession of Corpus Christi in Nuremburg, see Andrea Löther, Prozessionen in spätmittelalterlichen Städten. Politische Partizipazion, obrigkeitliche Inszenierung, städtische Einheit, (Cologne/Weimar/Vienna: Böhlau, 1999), pp. 50–146; for recent work on Eucharistic respect in the Czech lands, see Aleš Mudra, Ecce panis angelorum. Výtvarné umění pozdního středověku v kontextu eucharistické devoce v Kutné Hoře, (České Budějovice/Prague: Halama, 2012); V oplatce jsi všecek tajně. Eucharistie v náboženské a vizuální kultuře Českých zemí do roku 1620, ed. Aleš Mudra (Prague: Národni Památkoý ústav, 2017); Kateřina Horníčková, In Heaven and on Earth. Church Treasure in Late Medieval Bohemia, (PhD Thesis on Central European University) (Budapest, 2009), pp. 49–55; Károly Goda, Processional Cultures of the Eucharist: Vienna and her Central European Counterparts (ca. 1300–1550) (Olomouc: Univerzita Palackého, 2015). See note 83.

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church of St. James, which was probably the chief reason for the St. Peter chapter’s complaint.28 The cult of Corpus Christi led to the expansion of Corpus Christi processions outside of the feast day. The parish priest of the church of St. James in Brno acquired authorisation in 1521 to carry the body of Christ in procession every first Thursday of the month in the ecclesiastic district and when it rained the procession took place in the church.29 The growing popularity led to the church’s efforts to keep the burgeoning festivities under control, which birthed thoughts of removing the Feast of Corpus Christi from among the main ecclesiastic holidays.30 That did not take place, however, and the Feast of Corpus Christi remained a very popular celebration in subsequent centuries with a resurgence in the counterreformation period. After the Feast of Corpus Christi, the relative frequency of important ecclesiastic festivities abated for a time. According to Oldřich’s missal, the feasts of St. Vitus (June 15), John the Baptist (June 24), and St. Peter and Paul (June 29) were also celebrated in June. A further list of feasts would be self-serving, but we can summarise that from July to the end of September there were 15 holidays in total in almost regular weekly cycles. This sequence ends only in the beginning of October and only the feasts of St. Simon and St. Jude (October 28), St. Martin (November 11), St. Catherine (November 25), and St. Andrew the Apostle (November 30) are accented in Oldřich’s missal from the end of October to November. The last feast brings us to the beginning of advent where our annual cycle of the Christian holiday calendar ends. But that is not the end of the list of opportunities for church festivities. Sometimes unexpected events would inject themselves into the cyclical rhythm of religious holidays that was more or less identical in most cities, with the exception of local particulars. This could be the founding of a monastery or church in a city, the translation of the remains of a saint, or the regular display of relics. During well-known celebrations in Prague, the most valuable relics were displayed on special scaffolding near the chapel of Corpus Christi on today’s Charles Square for a period of eight days on order of Charles IV31 and similar holidays may have been more frequent than we can imagine today. In Český Krumlov, the anniversary of the consecration of the church founded 28 29 30

31

ms Brno, Archiv města Brna, Sbírka listin, mandátů a listů, no. 487 (1465, September 28). ms Brno, Archiv města Brna, Sbírka listin, mandátů a listů, no. 1112 (1521, April 8). Martial Staub, “Memoria im Dienst von Gemeinwohl und Öffentlichkeit. Stiftungspraxis und kultureller Wandel in Nürnberg um 1500,” in Memoria als Kultur (Veröffentlichungen des Max-Planck-Institut für Geschichte 121) (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1995), pp. 327–33. Most recently in a broader context Kateřina Kubínová, Imitatio Romae. Karel IV. a Řím (Prague: Artefactum, 2006), pp. 217–86.

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within the connected Franciscan and Clarissan abbeys in the mid-14th century by Catherine of Rožmberk and her sons was celebrated with a procession of holy relics, possibly supplemented by those from the near-by Zlatá Koruna abbey. The procession went from Latrán to below the Krumlov castle where the abbeys were built, over the river to the parish church of St. Vítus in the town. It was led by boys with small bells, followed by the priest with the body of Christ and then the chest with the relics, with the members of the convents and parish clerics undoubtedly lined up behind. Before the procession, the custos provided for enough branches and flowers that were placed under the feet of the men carrying the chest. The accompaniment for the procession was provided by musicians playing tympanies, string instruments, lyres, horns, and organs supporting the participants in their singing of the prescribed responsories. The next phase of the celebration took place after arriving at the parish church in front of the sacraments displayed on the altar stone and showing the individual remains to the assembled worshippers. It concluded with a mass and the giving of alms to the poor.32 The missions of John of Capistrano in 1451–1452 and 1454 created the most significant reactions in Bohemian and Moravian cities.33 The Franciscan preacher came to Bohemia from Italy where the founders of the Franciscan Observance, part of the Minorite order, quickly adapted their preaching style to the populous but poorer classes of Italian cities: they spoke the language of their listeners, addressing them in their speeches clearly and without theological complications, gesturing widely, with their sermons becoming nearly theatrical spectacles. Capistrano learned all that and added much to it himself. If we are to believe the reports from chroniclers, a tall, thin, older man entered towns only in sandals and a rough frock. Although the several hour-long sermons were in Latin and one of those present (in Brno this was Auxiliary Bishop Vilém of Kolín) translated them, the appearance and method of speech was enough to make an impression on listeners. About 25 years after his death, a Bamberg painter depicted Capistrano speaking in a square to a crowd of people who looked at him in religious rapture, throwing jewels, luxurious clothing and accessories, or books with lay texts on a fire burning in front of the pulpit. During his first mission, Moravian Chamberlain Beneš Černohorský of 32

33

For details see František Šmahel, “Ordo ostendendarum reliquiarum Crumlovii: Zkoumání pod drobnohledem,” Studia mediaevalia Bohemica 6 (2014), pp. 187–234; for supplements to the study see Šmahel, Nahlédnutí do středověku. Mluva písma a četba obrazů (Prague: Karolinum, 2017), pp. 145–68. Rudolf Urbánek, Věk poděbradský, vol. 2 (České dějiny III/2) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1918), pp. 552–88; Šmahel, “Spectaculum fidei,” s. 402–8; Jan Chlíbec, Bernardinské slunce nad českými zeměmi (Prague: Academia, 2016), pp. 84–132.

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Boskovice could not resist the strength of his words and gestures and kneeled in front of Capistrano, publicly swearing off his former Utraquist views and returning to the arms of the Roman Catholic Church.34 Capistrano tried to create a parallel between his missions and the work of Jesus Christ in the minds of his listeners, even including healing miracles. “No one is so saintly as to not be enchanted by the sweetness of glory,” was how Enea Silvio Piccolomini ironically commented Capistrano’s ability to play up his own merits.35 Capistrano’s effective sermons also influenced burghers in another way. Franciscan Observant abbeys were founded in Opava, Brno, and Olomouc in association with the presence of the combative preacher and they received a great many gifts in their first few years of existence. The foundation of the abbeys clearly followed Capistrano’s mission and were supported by the series of brotherhoods he created in the cities.36 Brno’s butchers acquired one of these and then willingly sold the plot of their former slaughterhouse in front of the Brno Gate for the construction of a new monastic house. The first groschen was allegedly submitted by Capistrano’s translator in Brno, Vilém of Kolín, who was able to complete the successful consecration of the abbey church choir before March 20, 1454. The consecration of a church was always an important moment in the life of a city, which was underlined in this case by the presences of another significant Franciscan Observant, Gabriele Rangone.37 The influence of the Franciscans on the mentality of burghers also cannot be underestimated, which was probably best expressed in Bernadine house signs.38 One of the most significant burghers of Olomouc, Řehoř Moler, named his son Bernardin soon after Capistrano’s stay in the city, surly after the founder of the Franciscan Observants Bernardino of Siena.39 To associate solely the expulsion of Jews from several royal Moravian cities in 1454 with Capistrano’s 34 35 36

37 38 39

Jaroslav Dřímal, “Biskup Vilém z Kolína,” ČMM 55 (1931), pp. 18–22. Aeneae Silvii Historia Bohemica, eds. Dana Martínková, Alena Hadravová and Jiří Matl (Prague: Koniasch Latin Press, 1998) pp. 234–5. Generally, on the Franciscan Observants, see Petr Hlaváček, Čeští františkáni na přelomu středověku a novověku (Prague: Academia, 2005), s. 24–47, 124–37; on individual abbeys see Dušan Foltýn et al., Encyklopedie moravských a slezských klášterů (Prague: Libri, 2005); some fraternities were described by Jaroslav Dřímal, “Filiační listy Jana Kapistrána,” ČMM 63–64 (1939–1940), pp. 374–91, more in Od gotiky k renesanci III. Olomoucko, pp. 52–3. Dřímal, “Biskup Vilém z Kolína,” pp. 18–22 and addendum 1. For the prescribed tasks during the construction and consecration of a church, see Pražské synody a koncily, p. 141, art. 48 and p. 145, art. 57. Ivo Hlobil, “Bernardinské symboly jména Ježíš šířené v českých zemích Janem Kapistránem,” Umění 44 (1996), pp. 223–34. Bernardin appears as a young boy in Moler’s testament from 1466 who would “like to study at college.” The testament was published in Od gotiky k renesanci III. Olomoucko, pp. 117–8.

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campaign through Moravia and the content of his speeches (which were primarily focused against heretics-Utraquists) seems exaggerated, especially if we realise the expulsions were preceded by a series of complaints by the cities against Jewish creditors.40 The religious year formed the backbone of municipal celebrations, rhythmising their flow and the order they followed. Holidays celebrated in medieval cities were not just reserved for the church, however. The same year on the Thursday after the feast of St. Bartholomew, his Imperial Majesty installed the new councillors in the Old Town of Prague and used his seal in his hand to make Jan Reček Mayor and Jan of Střiebrná hvězda Chamberlain of the Czech Kingdom. The Old Czech Annals, Text a

The renewal of municipal councils in all three of Prague’s towns after the acceptance of Emperor Sigismund as Czech king in August 1436 has its inseparable place in all works concerning the end of the Hussite revolution.41 This took place shortly after the emperor’s arrival in Prague (on August 23) in two symbolic steps. First, Sigismund had a raised wooden platform built on Old Town Square. There, on Sunday, August 26, in front of a large crowd and wearing the symbols of imperial majesty and the royal crown on his head, he accepted the city seals, the keys to the city gates, and a promise of obedience from the city councillors. The seals and keys were then personally returned by the king without a chamberlain acting as an intermediary as was the norm. Four days later, on August 30, he named the new city councillors, but this time in the more intimate setting of King’s Court in the Old Town. The king deftly constructed a council that corresponded to his strategic goals from among the 40

41

For example, on Znojmo and its local Jews, see ms Brno, Moravský zemský archiv, G 2 Nová sbírka, 662/34, 662/43; ms Znojmo, Státní okresní archiv Znojmo, Archiv města Znojma, Listiny no. 90. Similarly on this topic Pavel Kocman, “Die Ausweisung der Juden aus den mährischen königlichen Städten 1426–1514: Verlauf, Anlässe, Folgen,” in Avigdor, Benesch, Gitl. Juden in Böhmen, Mähren und Schlesien im Mittelalter, eds. Helmut Teufel, Pavel Kocman and Milan Řepa (Brno/Prague/Essen: Společnost pro dějiny Židů, 2016), pp. 289–98. Citing the most recent works: František Šmahel, Husitská revoluce, vol. 3. Kronika válečných let (Prague: Karolinum, 1996), p. 314; František Šmahel, Husitské Čechy. Struktury, procesy, ideje (Prague: Lidové Noviny, 2001), pp. 98–9; Petr Čornej, Velké dějiny zemí Koruny české, vol. V. 1402–1437 (Prague/Litomyšl: Paseka, 2000), p. 644; Petr Čornej, “Skrytý význam politické podívané: Zikmundův příjezd do Prahy 23. srpna 1436,” in Idem, Světla a stíny husitství (Události – osobnosti – texty – tradice) (Prague: Lidové noviny, 2011), pp. 194–6.

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offered candidates. The councillors installed by Sigismund remained at their posts even after the sovereign’s death, fundamentally longer than a single year. Sigismund’s selection of new councillors, like his arrival in Prague shortly beforehand,42 merged efforts to perform properly the traditional ceremonies while placing an unusually strong emphasis on the elements that symbolised the renewal of royal power and order in the kingdom. That is why he accepted pledges of fealty from the older “Hussite” councils publicly and personally returned the keys and seals. After restoring order, the next step (naming new councils) could take place in a more traditional form. Naming new councillors represented a significant political tool in the hands of the sovereign, which Prague’s burghers realised even during the reigns of Sigismund’s predecessors.43 The annual renewal of city councils was surely an important milestone in the city’s legal and economic life.44 Its importance was weakened by the fact that the council was usually occupied by a small circle of individuals who only exchanged the offices entrusted to them with one another or alternated between the council and the city elders. The municipal rights and royal privileges that defined the council elections until the end of the 15th century and set its conditions and order are rather surprisingly succinct. The renewal of the council was tied to important religious holidays (Easter, Christmas, etc.) but did not take place during the holiday itself, but in either the preceding days or those afterward. The naming of new councillors itself did not fulfil one of the characteristics of festive occasions in medieval cities as it was not always public. Chamberlains, or during especially important occasions when it was important to stress a renewal of order, the king himself (as in the case of Sigismund’s ascension in 1436 or less than two decades later during the 42 43 44

See Čornej, “Skrytý význam,” pp. 191–3. Jaroslav Mezník, Praha před husitskou revolucí (Prague: Academia, 1990). Extensive work on the election of city councils in pre-modern Europe came from Dietrich W. Poeck, Rituale der Ratswahl. Zeichen und Zeremoniell der Ratssetzung in Europa (12.–18. Jahrhundert) (Cologne/Weimar/Vienna: Böhlau, 2003). For Prague’s towns, the fundamental information was collected by Jaromír Čelakovský, “O vývoji středověkého zřízení v městech pražských,” Sborník příspěvků k dějinám hlavního města Prahy 1/2 (1920), pp. 124–389; most recently the topic was covered by Kateřina Jíšová, “Rituály při volbách a ustanovování městských rad v Praze v druhé polovině 15. století,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity ve střední Evropě 14. a 15. století, eds. Martin Nodl and František Šmahel (Prague: Argo, 2009), pp. 215–28; for other cities, fundamental knowledge came from Jaromír Čelakovský, “Obnovování rad v královských městech v Čechách,” Časopis musea království českého 53 (1879), pp. 88–112, 258–66; Jaromír Čelakovský, “O středověkém radním zřízení v královských městech moravských,” ČMM 29 (1905), pp. 97–133.

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renewal of royal authority after years of interregnum),45 would choose a group of new councillors from the collection of names proposed, usually at city hall. The selection was usually preceded by the arrival of the chamberlain in the city, entertainment, and a mass that would confirm the festive occasion. There should be no need to add that the chamberlain walked to the mass together with the outgoing council members and the candidates to replace them. After naming the new body, the selected councillors took their oaths and the seals and keys to the chest with the city archives and cash funds (along with the associated accounting for the previous administrative year) were handed over. According to later evidence, the election was confirmed by a celebratory Te Deum in the parish church and hopefully it is not too presumptuous to assume this also took place in the Middle Ages as well. The climax then came for the chamberlain in the form of a feast and monetary gift.46 Similar to the renewal of city councils, burghers could also look forward to regular celebrations of annual fairs, which were associated with important religious holidays and thus mutually supplemented the economic and religious shaping of time in the city. Public festivals were thus also part of the religious year, but they were enlivened by the participation of many foreign guests. Cities usually celebrated two to three fairs per year depending on their size and importance. Šimon Ennius Klatovský considered the fairs in Olomouc to be so significant that he included them in his praise of the city. Poles, Hungarians, Austrians, and Czechs filled the Olomouc market with their stands and offered goods from faraway lands like France, England, and Venice, bringing with them livestock and heavy southern wines. “Thousands of people haggled over agreements, buying and selling, there are as many of them as stars in the sky,” a poet wrote in a moment of slight exaggeration.47 Although the market itself was not a holiday in the strict meaning of the word, it did represent a deviation from the daily routine and touched every member of the city’s community. Many inhabitants could only jealously observe the luxurious items on display and they had to satisfy themselves with a glass of bitter domestic wine from the city’s taverns. (figure 7.2)

45

46

47

The naming of new councillors in Brno by Ladislaus Posthumous is evidenced by a memorial record in the city book and the young king did the same in Prague, cf. Pamětní kniha města Brna z let 1391–1515, ed. Miroslav Flodr (Brno: Matice Moravská, 2010), pp. 247–8; Čelakovský, “O vývoji středověkého zřízení,” p. 270. Zikmund Winter, Kulturní obraz českých měst, vol. 1 (Prague: Matice Česká, 1890), pp. 633– 72; Jíšová, “Rituály při volbách,” pp. 217–9; on the conformational singing of Te Deum, see Sabine Žak, “Das Tedeum als Huldigungsgesang,” Historisches Jahrbuch 102 (1982), pp. 1–32. Humanisté o Olomouci, pp. 48–9.

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Figure 7.2 The fresco in the choir of the Minorite monastery church in Jihlava depicts a ceremonial procession, which every year commemorated the successful defence of the town against the night raid in 1402, until the beginning of the Reformation (Borovský).

Another type of celebration were anniversaries of significant events in the life of the city. The unsuccessful attack on Jihlava in 1402 was not only commemorated in a fresco created by an anonymous painter in the Minorite abbey church not long after the event, but also by a procession that took place every Reminiscere Sunday and the Monday afterwards.48 On the fresco, an angel with a banner that bears the symbols of Jihlava and the Czech kingdom in quarters leads the procession. Burghers follow under their symbols, before the concluding Minorite monks, who discovered the attackers climbing over the walls. According to the description of the Jihlava chronicler, the procession set off from the parish church of St. James after Vespers with all the parish clerics, the monks form the Dominican abbey of the Holy Cross, clerics from the villages around Jihlava, pupils, and members of the literary brotherhoods, followed by the mayor, the old and new city councils, members of the city community, and women and girls. They held in their hands burning candles and banners as they went through the town square to the Minorite abbey where a mass of gratitude was celebrated in honour of the Virgin Mary, to whom the city attributed its miraculous rescue. The procession was repeated on Monday, but this time it was concluded only with a read mass and sermon.49 The 48

49

On the fresco, see Ivo Hlobil and František Hoffmann, “Barokní freska přepadení Jihlavy roku 1402 v minoritském kostele. Kopie gotické veduty z doby před rokem 1436,” Umění 51 (2003), pp. 147–57; now also Tomáš Borovský, “Aktéři a(nebo) veřejnost. Jihlavský svátek záchrany města a zobrazení sociálního řádu v městských slavnostech,” in Martin Štefánik et al., Stredoveké mesto a jeho obyvatelia, (Bratislava: Veda, 2017), pp. 67–81. Chronik der königlichen Stadt Iglau (1402–1607) von Iglauer Stadtschreiber Martin Leupold von Löwenthal, ed. Christian d’Elvert (Brno: Nitsch, 1861), pp. 74–5.

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Jihlava procession is a unique medieval testimony to this type of celebration in Bohemia, though other reports may appear in later sources.50 The burghers of Plzeň probably similarly recalled the anniversary of the day when the Hussites broke their siege of their city as the New Holiday and acquired indulgences for this period (three days before the holiday on May 8 and three days afterwards).51 Contrary to imperial or Italian cities, Bohemian and Moravian cities did not celebrate the holidays of their patrons and holy protectors, whose cult logically developed in locations outside the direct sphere of royal influence and the people thus had to assure their security on their own with the help of their heavenly intercessors. These holidays were partially replaced by the feast day of the saint of the parish church or the holidays of the patrons of the kingdom. The last of the main types of lay festivities differed from the previous types in a series of characteristics. The previous holidays strengthened the civic order and ceremonially confirmed it. Public trials and executions, however, were a reaction to violations of that order. In a society based primarily on oral transfer of information, nothing other than the public imposition of justice using corporeal punishments in front of a large audience was possible. After the unsuccessful attempt by Kolda of Náchod to take Prague in 1440, the city’s councillors decided to give his allies in the city exemplarily punishments.52 Some of them were decapitated on the thresholds of their own homes with their back to the street and facing a (probably open) door for greater shame. Some were banished after intense interrogation: their banishment was publicly announced and they were accompanied to the frontier of the city’s territory, forever forbidden to return. A judge ordered the coat of arms of Old Town Councillor Zikmund Sláma, who saved himself with a timely escape, be nailed to a stockade where it remained for all the city’s inhabitants to see 50

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For example, the reminder of the miraculous rescue of Uničov also attributed to the Virgin Mary during a siege by Matthias Corvinus, known from the later confirmation by František Diterichstein from 1629, ms Olomouc, Zemský archiv Opava  – pobočka Olomouc, Arcibiskupství Olomouc, pergamenové listiny, sign. A II b8. On memorial celebrations commemorating victories and the rescue of cities, see Klaus Graf, “Schlachtengedenken in der Stadt,” in Stadt und Krieg, eds. Bernhard Kirchgässner and Günter Scholz (Stadt in der Geschichte 15) (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1989), pp. 83–104. Josef Hejnic and Miloslav Polívka, Plzeň v husitské revoluci. Hilaria Litoměřického “Historie města Plzně”, její edice a historický rozbor (Prague: Československá akademie věd, 1987), p. 109 (Czech translations p. 153); Miloslav Bělohlávek, “Antihusitská tradice v Plzni a boj proti ní (Nový svátek),” Husitský Tábor 4 (1981), pp. 197–202. Staré letopisy české z rukopisu Křižovnického, eds. František Šimek and Miloslav Kaňák (Prague: Odeon, 1959), pp. 158–9; most recently Petr Čornej and Milena Bartlová, Velké dějiny zemí Koruny české, vol. VI. 1437–1526 (Prague/Litomyšl: Paseka, 2007), p. 69.

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for many years afterwards. Public executions were not only the fulfilment of a just punishment, but they could offer other opportunities as well. There is the legend of how Jan Hus accompanied the captured brigand Mikeš Zoul to the gallows in 1404 and that he was able to open Zoul’s hard heart during the walk. Zoul, facing the noose, turned to the people gathered around with the request “holy community, please entreat the Lord in my name.” This story was probably created more than half a century after the event took place,53 but for a historian the veracity of this event is not as important as that the scenario of turning a sinner (following the example of the criminal on Christ’s right) lived in the collective imagination and was inserted into this specific situation. Prague’s councillors arranged a similar scene a few years later when in May 1433 they staged an act of mercy in honour of the arrival of the legates from Basel. When noble-born thief Čeněk of Sendražice was counting down the last moments before his execution on Gallows Hill, the virgin Markéta of Popovice stepped from the crowd and announced that she would like to marry the convicted knight, saving the man’s life.54 During the execution of Jan Roháč of Dubá, Sigismund attempted to use the public spectacle to further demean his fallen adversary, whose defeat at Sion was announced to Prague’s inhabitants by the ringing of bells from the Castle and city churches. The king denied Roháč death by decapitation and had him strung up like vermin upon arriving in Prague the next day, accenting his scorn through a hierarchically ordered gallows with Jan Roháč at the top. The impulsive king, however, misjudged the severity of the Hussite warriors’ staged executions and significantly strengthened anti-Sigismund feelings in society.55 Sigismund’s verdict condemning Jan Roháč of Dubé is not a typical civic festivity and with a bit of hyperbole we could say this celebration was “imposed” on the city. Burghers took part in these events as well, despite their participation being limited to passive observance. This was not the case with just the executions of thieves and brigands. The Hussite Wars saw cities join in

53 54 55

Staří letopisové čeští od roku 1378 do 1527, eds. František Palacký and Jaroslav Charvát (Prague: L. Mazáč, 1941), p. 30; further Petr Čornej, Tajemství českých kronik. Cesty ke kořenům husitské tradice (Prague: Vyšehrad, 1987), pp. 270–1. Václav Vladivoj Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, vol. IV (Prague: František Řiwnáč, 1899), pp. 569–70; the staged character of the scene was pointed out by Petr Čornej, “Slavnosti husitské Prahy,” in Idem, Světla a stíny husitství, pp. 230–1. Petr Čornej and Bohdan Zilynskij, Jan Roháč z Dubé a Prague, Pražský sborník historický 20 (1987), pp. 35–61. On the function of public executions in pre-modern society, see also Michel Foucault, Dohlížet a trestat. Kniha o zrodu vězení (Prague: Dauphin, 2000), pp. 33–115.

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meetings of land diets56 that took place within city walls. Each meeting of the diet meant life within the city left its daily routine for a time with the arrival of hundreds of guests, including delegations from other cities. Festivities, however, were limited to narrower groups and were of an exclusively lay nature, provided that one of the significant religious holidays was not being concurrently celebrated. A certain exception were the regular meetings of the land court in Brno and Olomouc, but these also took place without the active participation of the larger city community. The city’s tavern owners and merchants were pleased by the presence of noble guests that took accommodations with their large retinues and purchased luxury goods, but otherwise the inhabitants of the cities only watched the ceremonial transfer of the land books from the chapter church to the Dominican abbey where the proceedings were held.57 Some leading burghers took part in the courts themselves as a result of their rural properties. At the end of this section, we should at least briefly mention celebrations that touched only smaller groups of burghers. We can suppose with reason that the rise of guilds in Bohemian and Moravian cities, which was successfully completed in the first half of the 14th century, went hand-in-hand with celebrations organised by the individual trade groups. Medieval guilds were not simple associations of tradespeople protecting their members from competition, but they also had a significant social function as well.58 One of these was to maintain memorials (memoria) for deceased members of the group, while guild members also gathered for feasts and to elect guild elders (if they were not named by the city council). The oldest known Bohemian guild regulations from the mid-14th century usually only regulated the trades. It is only later documents that point to selected celebrations: certainly the feast of the patron of the guild during which the masters marched in procession to the guild chapel in the parish church and to mass; the promotion of new masters; the funerals of guild members and anniversaries of deceased members; or guild feasts and other celebrations that included popular shooting festivities and so on.59 56 57 58 59

Jiří Kejř, “Zur Entstehung des städtischen Standes im hussitischen Böhmen,” in Städte und Ständestaat, ed. Bernhard Töpfer (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1980), pp. 195–215. On the transfers, see Kniha Tovačovská, ed. Vincenc Brandl (Brno: Šnaidr, 1868), pp. 55–6; on court dates, see Archiv český, vol. X, pp. 316–8, no. LXXIII. Otto Gerhard Oexle, “Die mittelalterlichen Gilden: Ihre Selbstdeutung und ihr Beitrag zur Formung Sozialer Strukturen,” in Soziale Ordnungen im Selbstverständnis des Mittelalters, vol. 1, ed. Albert Zimmermann (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1979), pp. 203–26. On guild meetings, see Zikmund Winter, Dějiny řemesel a obchodu v Čechách v XIV. a XV. století (Prague: Česká akademie Císaře Františka Josefa, 1906), pp. 677–81, other parts paraphrase regulations. On holidays celebrated by medieval fraternities, see Hana Pátková, Bratrstvie ke cti Božie (Prague: Koniasch Latin Press, 2000), see also František Hoffmann,

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When they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks over it, he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, while others spread branches they had cut in the fields. Those who went ahead and those who followed shouted “Hosanna.” Mk 11, 7–9

And so came King John [of Luxembourg] to Moravia and first to Olomouc, the capital of all of Moravia where he was welcomed by all the people with exuberant joy. (…) Finally the king left Olomouc and set his sights on Brno, where he was lavishly welcomed by not only the Christian people, but also by the whole Jewish community. (…) The king entered Brno, brought peace within and without, and all the good people rejoiced. Petr Žitavský, Chronica Aulae Regiae

Just as Christ entered Jerusalem, the king entered through the city’s gates; not humbly on a donkey, however, but with all the pomp that accentuated his majesty. The biblical roots of the royal visit were thus not contradicted, and the entire composition of the king’s entrance served to emphasise this fact. Adventus regis was possibly the most significant of the city’s holidays, tightly intertwining religious and lay festivities in a celebration of the eternal power of Jesus Christ, the continuity of “the body of the monarchy,” and the rule of a specific sovereign.60 Besides the royal coronation and funeral, it was one of the three most important rituals the sovereign usually took part in. The entrance was staged in its most spectacular form after one of the royal transitory rituals (taking power, coronation), even if the monarch had already visited the city. Residential capitals or other important residences experienced royal visits rather frequently (during the second-generation rule of the Luxembourgers these were Prague and Kutná Hora in Bohemia and Brno and Olomouc in Moravia), while the king may not visit smaller royal cities at all during his reign. The entrance to a city took place in various ways, despite Charles IV attempting to codify the chief moments of a royal visit to Czech cities in his

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“Brněnská statuta střeleckého bratrstva sv. Šebestiána z roku 1499,” Brno v minulosti a dnes 7 (1965), pp. 119–23. A parody of guild meetings is in Frantova práva, which shouldn’t be read as an upside–down image of reality, but as strengthening of the elements that were part of a guild feast, from distinguishing marks to unfettered drunkenness, Frantové a grobiáni. Z mravokárných satir 16. věku v Čechách, ed. Jaroslav Kolár (Prague: Československá akademie věd, 1959), pp. 21–54. Robert Antonín and Tomáš Borovský, Panovnické vjezdy na středověké Moravě (Brno: Matice moravská, 2009), which also contains older foreign and domestic works, but in the interest of brevity I cite only the necessary works.

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unpromulgated Majestas Carolina. In Charles’s concept, the visit was not influenced by whether the king had been crowned or not (but he should evidently enter the city again after the coronation). The burghers went before the city gates to meet their sovereign and present him with the keys to the gates. The king dismounted his horse and publicly swore on the Gospels to work for the good of the city. He probably then returned the keys and entered the gates with the welcoming procession.61 This concise chapter in the royal code rather clearly defines the key moments of the king’s visit that modern research has separated into five fundamental phases:62 meeting with a welcoming mission often a day from the city itself; a welcome beneath the city walls; a procession through the city; a mass in the main city church; and finally installing the sovereign in his accommodations within the city walls. For the city, the royal visit began long before the king actually arrived, as the opulent celebration required extensive preparations.63 The city council sent out messengers to find out where the sovereign was and when he planned to arrive at the city gates, or they maintained a reporter at the king’s court. As the arrival date approached, the accommodations for the sovereign and his closest courtiers had to be prepared, as well as the temporary buildings necessary to manage the visit (kitchens, possibly a podium on one of the public spaces, stables), but most importantly food and fodder for the honoured guests and hundreds of horses had to be procured. Other trades found work in the preparations as well, such as Znojmo painter Mikuláš, who the city council tasked with painting the royal coats of arms at city hall before the arrival of Ladislaus Posthumous in 1453.64 Before the dust cloud on the horizon announced the approaching royal party, an embassy of welcome was sent to the king to accompany him to the city gates. Bohemian and Moravian burghers did not have to travel far as they usually returned to the city with the ruler the same day. The inhabitants of Jihlava usually welcomed a sovereign coming from Moravia near Brtnice. In January 1527, eight of Jihlava’s councillors set out for the village to welcome 61

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Maiestas Carolina. Der Kodifikationsentwurf Karls IV. für das Königreich Böhmen von 1355, ed. Bernd-Ulrich Hergemöller (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1995), chapter 10; on Maiestas Carolina recently Martin Nodl, “Maiestas Carolina. Kritické postřehy k pramenům, vyhlášení a ‘odvolání’ Karlova zákoníku,” Studia mediaevalia Bohemica 1 (2009), pp. 21–35. Geritt Jasper Schenk, Zeremoniell und Politik. Herrschereinzüge im spätmittelalterlichen Reich, (Cologne/Weimar/Vienna: Böhlau, 2003), pp. 238–42. Part was reconstructed in detail by Rudolf Tecl, “Tábor a zemská hotovost za tažení Vladislava Jagellonského do Uher v létě 1490,” Husitský Tábor 6–7 (1983–1984), especially pp. 195–201. ms Znojmo, Státní okresní archiv Znojmo, Archiv města Znojma, Úřední knihy a rukopisy, sign. II/247, fol. 47r.

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King Ferdinand I for the first time, accompanied by 24 riders in armour on horses covered in black cloth and a hundred infantrymen. When the burghers approached the king and queen, they dismounted and greeted their new lord, who graciously extended his hand. After that, Jihlava Mayor Lucas Leupold gave a speech of welcome in Latin and then the procession set off for Jihlava. Leupold’s chronicle does not discuss the welcome in front of the city gates and it is possible the chronicler combined the two moments into one because of the temporal distance from the event.65 The main moment of welcome took place in front of the gates of the city. Here, the sovereign was greeted by a large assembly of inhabitants that represented all the important groups within the city: councillors and the wealthiest burghers, tradespeople, clerics, and Jews. The king rode up to them, dismounted, and greeted the people as Ferdinand I did the people of Jihlava. He was able to kiss the holy relics brought from the city’s churches and accepted the keys to the city gates from the mayor. These were immediately returned, either personally or through an intermediary from his retinue. The presentation and return of the keys symbolised placing the city into the hands of the king and the subsequent legitimisation of the city administration through the present councillors. When Ladislaus Posthumous first entered Prague’s gates in a golden carriage in October 1453, everything took place according to the prescribed order: the king graciously accepted the keys from the mayors of Prague’s towns and he gave them to chief administrator George of Poděbrady, who returned them to the burghers. Four years later, the confident king used the welcome before the gates to express clearly his views. He answered the welcoming speech given by Jan Rokycana and a group of Utraquist clerics only after being prodded by George of Poděbrady, but he immediately dismounted his horse in front of the welcoming members of the St. Vitus chapter, greeted them as the true servants of God, and kissed the presented cross.66 After the initial greeting, there was an organisationally difficult moment as the welcoming delegation had to join the royal retinue in the procession that accompanied the sovereign through the city to a mass in the main city church. The procession during the royal visit should be organised “as on the Feast of Corpus Christi,” said the report about the welcome of Vladislaus II in Olomouc 65 66

Sněmy české od léta 1526 až po naši dobu, vol. 1. (1526–1545) (Prague: Královský český archiv zemský, 1877), pp. 205–13, no. 155, here pp. 206; Chronik der königlichen Stadt Iglau, p. 78. Individual versions of the Old Czech Annals more or less agree on the account of the first entrance, Staří letopisové, pp. 147–8; on the gold carriage Urbánek, Věk poděbradský, vol. 2, p. 744; on the second Aeneae Silvii Historia Bohemica, pp. 244–6; Rudolf Urbánek, Věk poděbradský, vol. 3 (České dějiny III/3) (Prague: Jan Laichter, 1930), p. 194.

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in 1497, which clearly served as an example for other royal visits.67 Instead of the sacrament, the sovereign himself played the main role, and just like processions with the sacraments, a canopy was held over his head by several selected individuals (upon entrance to Prague at least, the use of a canopy in other cities is still unknown). The well-known text from Vavřinec of Březová supplements our knowledge of Prague’s welcoming traditions with the canopy, which was also prepared for the arrival of the queen.68 The king, who was placed about a third of the way through the procession, was surrounded by the most significant members of his retinue. His arrival was announced by heralds and trumpeters and burghers gathered under the banners of their guilds and other civic corporations in the “descending” part of the parade. The procession need not take a direct path to the church and could march through the city past other churches; not only because this was a procession, but also for the representation of the king, who thus displayed his majesty to his subjects. The throngs of people who desired to see their ruler with their own eyes could even violate the organised procession. The legates from the Council of Basel experienced this for themselves during Sigismund’s entrance to Prague in August 1436. They had to make their way to the Church of Our Lady Before Týn using sides streets in order to hear Jan Rokycana welcome the king with a short sermon and to call on those present to pray for the emperor and for peace.69 No mass was celebrated upon Sigimund’s arrival in Prague as the Catholics and Utraquists could not agree on its program. Otherwise, a mass celebrated by the highest-ranking prelates was part of the climax of the visit. The king, tired after many hours of ceremonies, still underwent one more presentation to inhabitants during the trip to the selected accommodations where he could refresh himself and rest (the physical demands of the visit are reflected in the arrival of Sigismund Luxembourg in Constance in December 1414: the king arrived two hours after midnight, rested for an hour in a heated room at city hall, and then he and his wife Barbara went in procession to services that 67 68

69

ms Olomouc, Státní okresní archiv Olomouc, Archiv města Olomouce, Knihy, 677, fol. 107r. On the canopy, see Gerrit Jasper Schenk, “Heiltümer und geraubte Himmel. Virtuelle Räume bei spätmittelalterlichen Herrschereinzügen im Reich,” in Virtuelle Räume. Raumwahrnehmung und Raumvorstellung im Mittelalter, ed. Elisabeth Vavra (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2005), pp. 215–37; for documents from the Czech and Moravian environment, see Robert Novotný, “Nebesa pro krále, pro Krista či pro měšťany? K proměně panovnické symboliky v husitských Čechách,” in Moc a její symbolika ve středověku, eds. Martin Nodl and Andrzej Pleszczyński (Prague: Filosofia, 2011), pp. 155–66; Antonín and Borovský, Panovnické vjezdy, pp. 244–7. Most recently on Sigismund’s arrival in Prague, see Čornej, “Skrytý význam,” pp. 191–3.

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concluded at noon).70 The adventus itself concluded with the accommodation of the king and not with the festivities associated with it. The following days saw feasts held in honour of the visitor, as well as tournaments (during one such of these in Prague in 1436 “Larva bravely beat the Hungarians like a glove in a fight”)71 or balls. During these events, the king also ceremonially renewed the city council or adjudicated legal cases. We must not forget the gifts the burghers presented in the following days during audiences, usually in the form of wine or money. However, Vladislaus II received an instructional gift from the Utraquist masters in 1471 when they gave him a Bible “so even the people could comport themselves according to the will of God.”72 The king’s arrival also carried a broad range of symbolic meanings and we can only discuss whether these were clear and understandable for all participants. For the sovereign, the imitation of Christ’s arrival in Jerusalem was one of the parts of his authority derived from God, but also a practical political tool that he could use to accentuate his power or punish rebellious cities (like Sigismund during the start of the Hussite Wars or Ferdinand I after the failed rebellion of the estates in 1547). For the burghers, it may have been the first chance to see the sovereign with their own eyes and touch his miraculous power while experiencing several days filled with celebrations that confirmed the current power structure in the city. Also, participation in the welcoming procession was an opportunity to present their social standing to the spectators. The royal visit was also used as an example for celebrations welcoming other significant guests. When Cardinal Legate Juan Carvajal arrived in Prague in 1448, he was met with a canopy and the chronicler noted that he was greeted by the people as if “they were welcoming a new king.”73 Ecclesiastic dignitaries received the same honours as sovereigns,74 but welcomes to cities did not always meet their expectations and the highest expressions of respect remained reserved for the sovereign.

70 71 72 73 74

Alois Niederstätter, Ante Portas. Herrscherbesuche am Bodensee 839–1507, (Konstanz: Universitätsverlag Konstanz, 1993), pp. 126–31. Staré letopisy české z rukopisu Křižovnického, p. 128. On late medieval tournaments in cities, see Josef Macek, “Turnaj ve středověkých Čechách,” in Idem, Česká středověká šlechta (Prague: Argo, 1997), pp. 118–28. Staré letopisy české z rukopisu Křižovnického, p. 282. Staré letopisy české z rukopisu Křižovnického, p. 181; also in Staré letopisy české z Vratislavského rukopisu, ed. František Šimek (Prague: Historický spolek, 1937), pp. 104–5. On welcoming kings and church dignitaries, see Le pontifical Romain au Moyen-Age, vol. III. Le Pontifical de Guillaume Durand, ed. Michel Andrieu (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1940), pp. 627–30.

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I was asked during those pagan and devilish carnival frolickings by many pious and good lords and friends to write something about the origin of the cursed carnival to show the Christian youth. Vavřinec Leandr Rvačovský, Massopust

Already the parish fair is approaching, and you’ll see that we will give you bloody hot cross buns to eat! The Old Czech Annals, The so-called Hospitaller Knights manuscript

Up to now, we have discussed regular celebrations that confirmed the order of the civic community and suggested its anchoring in heavenly authority. The medieval city also experienced celebrations that were not as sombre, and that temporarily up-ended the earthly hierarchy in order to achieve a controlled release of tension built up during the year. Established roles changed during these celebrations and “the hares became the hunters and the hunters became the prey,” as seen in popular Renaissance paintings. For a set time, it was possible to forget about one’s difficult lot, the trials of making ends meet, of illness and turns of fate, and dive into a backwards world where the established order was not in effect for a short period of time. The main opportunity for exchanging societal roles was during carnival: the celebration that took place on the Tuesday ahead of Ash Wednesday, which we have evidence for from the 13th century and which disturbed church authorities (corporeal abandonment with surviving elements of magical practices) and the municipal administration (exuberance that threatened order) alike.75 It was the boisterousness and absence of control in eating and drinking that were among the chief sins during these holidays according to the moralists. “Woe the insane carnival revellers, who forget charity and engage in vanities,” Jan Hus chided the participants.76 The inhabitants of Sezimovo Ústí in 1420 were woken from their drunken post-carnival sleep by the clanging of weapons as Jan Žižka took advantage of “the people still drunk after dancing and other revelries and safely slept,” when he breached the city with the help of his partisans.77 Vavřinec Leandr Rvačovský’s extensive work on the carnival was printed only in 1580, but the moralising text clearly is not too distant from the late medieval reality. Men dressed as women and vice-a-versa, wrapping themselves in various furs and drawing animal masks on their faces, blackening their countenances, 75 76 77

Harry Kühnel, “Die städtische Fastnacht im 15. Jahrhundert,” in Volkskultur des europäischen Spätmittelalters, ed. Peter Dinzelbacher (Stuttgart: Kröner, 1987), pp. 109–27. Výbor z české literatury doby husitské, vol. 1, eds. Bohuslav Havránek, Josef Hrabák and Jiří Daňhelka (Prague: Československá akademie věd, 1963), p. 168. Laurentii de Brzezowa Historia hussitica, ed. Jaroslav Goll, frb V (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1893), p. 357.

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and “on squares, in streets, and in houses, etc. ran, shouted, behaved as if insane, mystified people, and scared children” all while overeating and drinking. The array of carnival masks presented the opposite of the ordered celebratory procession. Exuberance here opposed fixed rules; indulgence against humility and the coming fast. Carnival together with Ash Wednesday fulfilled the natural need for celebrations: both unbound joy and uplifting holiness. Rvačovský unfortunately did not capture the course of the carnival, but his Twelve sons of Massopust (Carnival), from Soběhrd (Self-Hate) to Lhář (Liar) still show the holiday as an explosion of pent-up emotions, sexuality, and a loss of inhibitions that kept the community within set boundaries during the rest of the year. Many of the revellers were unable to halt Tuesday’s festivities in time and their exclamations violated the sombre moments of Ash Wednesday.78 This was a point of agreement with older authors.79 When Tomáš Štítný complained that “many nutters drink and eat so much that they will not earn their due on working days,”80 he was not only referring to unbridled gluttony, but also the effort to represent themselves and their wealth. The “backwards” elements of the holidays temporarily changed societal roles, heaven descended to Earth, garbed itself in fool’s clothes, and the inhabitants of the city could gather and watch and laugh from the church gates at scenes of how three Marys came to a frank merchant to buy sweet-smelling ointments to use on Christ’s body. “Good morning beautiful lady! You’re just going to sleep and hold your head low?” the merchant’s helper Rubin said and through them also spoke to the women in the audience.81 Staročeský Mastičkář (The Old Czech Ointment Maker), a play that was according to all accounts performed only during Good Friday, one of the most significant Christian holidays, uses parody to mix elements of the sacred and the profane, showing that the boundary between the two was sometimes very movable. Differentiating the holy from the lay and the confusion of the two as a fundamental form of medieval humour82 could be a good research tool, but we should not directly take that as an undisputed and proven interpretation. During the feast of Corpus Christi, partial processions were organised from individual ecclesiastic 78 79 80 81 82

Vavřinec Lenadr Rvačovský, Massopust, ed. Dušan Šlosar (Prague: Lidové noviny, 2008), quotation on p. 68. Their opinions in an overview in Čeněk Zíbrt, Staročeské výroční obyčeje, pověry, slavnosti a zábavy prostonárodní (Prague: J.R. Vilímek, 1889), pp. 21–35. Tomáše ze Štítného Knížky šestery, p. 55. Quoted from Václav Černý, Staročeská milostná lyrika, edition of manuscript from National museum pp. 299–314, quote on p. 307. For staging and actors, see Veltruská, Posvátné a světské, pp. 69–140. See also Michail M. Bachtin, François Rabelais a lidová kultura středověku a renesance (Prague: Argo, 2007); cf. a different concept in Gurevič, Nebe, peklo, svět, pp. 355–428.

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institutions and the monks from the one leaving the Dominican abbey carried various “monsters,” equipped with a myriad of grotesque faces, whooping and hollering and committing other acts of abandonment that stole the eyes of spectators away from the central point of the procession: the sacraments.83 Elements of travesty freely mixed with the seriousness of the procession and the sacred world. However, it is very possible that despite the displeasure of the council legates, this was not an expression of exuberance by Brno’s Dominicans, but a deliberate element that in the eyes of the spectators was meant to emphasise the contrast between heavenly purity (expressed by the body of Christ that was certainly carried under a canopy) and the earthly sinful body. Either way, the legates probably did not consider the function too much and banned the component processions, deciding there will be only one, of course sombre, procession on the next Feast of Corpus Christi in Brno. The change in social roles also came during the Feast of Fools (Narrenfeste),84 which we do not encounter much in the Czech lands, but the rare testimonies say that at least some celebrations took place in the towns of Prague to the displeasure of the Benedictines from the Břevnov.85 One opportunity came on the Feast of the Innocents (December 28), during which there were large processions of young carollers that gave reasons for complaints with their frolicking. A “child bishop” was elected from among the young pupils of the city’s schools in Cologne and Wesel on the Feast of St. Nicholas beginning in the late Middle Ages. He was led to the choir of the church by his fellow pupils singing Lauds.86 According to Hus’s account, the process of installing the child bishop in Prague churches in the second half of the 14th century was significantly more uninhibited. “The teacher sits the pupil made a bishop on a donkey facing the tail, leads him to the church to mass, and a bowl of soup and a jug or pitcher of 83

84 85

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“Aegidii Carlerii, decani cameracensis, liber de legationibus concilii Basiliensi,” in Monumenta conciliorum generalium, vol. 1, ed. Ernest Birk (Vienna: C.R. Officinae typographicae Aulae et Status, 1857), pp. 552–3, on the Brno mission, see Miloš Žila, “Brněnská církev očima basilejského legáta,” Brno v minulosti a dnes 14 (2000), pp. 65–72, and most recently František Šmahel, “Basilejská kompaktáta, jejich zpísemnění a ratifikace,” Studia mediaevalia Bohemica 1 (2008), pp. 210–4. Described in detail by Jacques Heer, Svátky bláznů a karnevaly (Prague: Argo, 2006). Cf. Čeněk Zíbrt, Hoj ty štědrý večere. Od vánoc koledou do Nového roku (Prague: F. Šimáček, 1910), pp. 48–9; on carolling in general, see Frolec et al., Vánoce, pp. 64–70; on the carols of St. Vitus singers see Jaroslav Pohanka, “Bonifanti, choralisté, žaltářníci a mansionáři v Praze (K organizaci a sociálním poměrům pražských zpěváků doby předhusitské),” Časopis Moravského muzea 60 (1975), p. 188. Wolfgang Herborn, “Fast-, Fest- und Feiertage im Cologne des 16. Jahrhunderts,” Rheinisches Jahrbuch für Volkskunde 25 (1983/1984), pp. 34–5; on the norms among Prague pupils in the mid-15th century, see also Staré letopisy české z rukopisu Křižovnického, pp. 207–8 (the ban on expensive clothing and riding horses on the Feast of St. Nicholas).

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beer are held before him, even in the church.” As if it were not enough that the pupils danced in the sacred space in fur masks that were turned inside-out for the amusement of spectators.87 However, if this holiday also happened to fall on Palm Sunday,88 we very probably encountered an inverse appearance to the sacred moment that lightened the staid seriousness of the liturgical celebration while the negative example acted as confirmation of the correct appearance. It can seem strange to include municipal rebellions among celebrations, but even they have their place in this discussion. The Prague uprising in 1483 is a textbook example of a revolt with a ceremonial ending. Its events and roots have been examined in several works,89 so we will focus on the elements that together with the victorious end transformed the rebellion into municipal festivities and a celebration of the return of justice and orderly conditions. A symbolic aspect was the assembly of rebels in Our Lady Before Týn and other churches, which also fulfilled the practical need to access the church bells as a fundamental communication tool.90 After occupying city hall, which unleashed the rage of the rebels and resulting in some hated members of the city council ending their lives in pools of blood that very day, the time to legitimise the coup was at hand. New administrators of all three Prague towns were immediately elected and took over the city seals and keys. Then the trials of the surviving councillors could take place as well as their public executions on squares beneath stockades. The climax was the joint assembly of the councils of the Lesser Town, Old Town and New Town on Old Town Square, where the public played witness to the signing of agreements to work in concert and a proclamation of unity of all three towns. A necessary part of the rebellion was also the release of tension and surging passions in the usual form of an anti-Jewish pogrom,91 this time also in connection with the sacking of abbeys 87 88 89

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Jan Hus, Výklady, ed. Jiří Daňhelka (Magistri Iohannis Hus Opera omnia 1) (Prague: Academia, 1975), pp. 342–3. Zikmund Winter, Život církevní v Čechách, vol. 2 (Prague: Česká akademie Císaře Františka Josefa, 1896), p. 900. Examined in a series of studies by František Šmahel, most recently Šmahel, Husitské Čechy, pp. 105–40; newly Kateřina Jíšová, “Komunikační aspekty pražského povstání 1483,” in Ján Lukačka, Martin Štefánik et al., Stredoveké mesto ako miesto stretnutí a komunikácie (Bratislava: Typoset print, 2010), pp. 49–55, and citations of sources and older literature are also in these works. Cf. Alfred Haverkamp, “‘… an die große Glocke hängen.’ Über Öffentlichkeit im Mittelalter,” Jahrbuch des historischen Kollegs, 1995 (Munich: R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 1996), pp. 71–112; for the Czech environment, see Tomáš Borovský, “Zvony a lidé středověkého města. Komunikační funkce zvonů v městské společnosti,” in Martin Čapský et al., Komunikace ve středověkých městech (Opava: European Social Fund, 2014), pp. 39–52. Cf. František Graus, Struktur und Geschichte. Drei Volksaufstände im mittelalterlichen Prag (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1971).

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and the expelling of Catholic monks and enemies of “the blood of Christ” from the city gates. The ceremonial culmination of revolts in trials had a single goal: to confirm the return of municipal order after a temporary deviation, regardless if it was the same council as was the case in the southern French town of Romans, where judge Antoine Guérin used a revolt fomented during carnival to deal with the opposition and consolidate his power,92 or under new councillors as was the case in the Prague revolt. The rebellion took place similar to a carnival: a period of anarchy, backwards order, and the release of passions was followed by the celebratory renewal of God’s just order. Sadness hurts the heart very much, Happiness brings the flowers of life. Says the prophet and the pauper Eat and drink heartily.

The Argument Between Prague and Kutná Hora

A discussion of municipal celebrations and rituals should not only concentrate on their main types. Holidays are anthropological constants of human existence, phenomena that seemingly change with each historical epoch, but they still maintain their deep layers that only change over the course of centuries. Every holiday in a given period takes place according to a certain plan in a given time and space, with certain actors, symbols, and items. All the named elements carry a ring of meanings expressed through symbols, and thus they offer the actors and operators of the order a series of interpretational options. To understand a holiday, what holiday is taking place (religious, lay, state, etc.) is just as important as how it is shaped in the framework of these given categories.93 We already touched upon the time of celebrations when we mentioned the frequency with which they took place. The more or less regular distribution of standard holidays (Sundays, the feast days of significant saints) was supplemented by irregularly distributed “high” holidays or those that lasted several days. The community of burghers experienced these more intensively and took part in the accompanying celebrations once every two or three months: Christmas, Easter, Corpus Christi; the feast of the patron of the parish church, and carnival festivities. These brought elements of tense anticipation and exceptions to the normal rhythm of regular days and holidays. The irregular 92 93

Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie, Masopust v Romansu. Od Hromnic po Popeleční středu 1579– 1580 (Prague: Argo, 2001). Cf. for example Mona Ozoufová, Revoluční svátky 1789–1799 (Brno: Centrum pro studium demokracie a kultury, 2006).

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holidays included the arrival of the king and celebrations associated with the king’s visit. These holidays demanded more extensive preparations and culminated in several days of multiple celebratory elements: processions, masses, feasts, dances, and tournaments on open spaces inside the city walls. While religious holidays have their climax set in a celebratory mass (such as midnight mass on Christmas or the Easter celebrations of the Resurrection) it is more difficult to define temporally lay holidays. Considering the conditions of medieval communication and travel, it was difficult to plan the king’s arrival for a particular day, for example, and a specific hour was altogether impossible. The gradation of holidays and exact temporal limits to festivities necessarily belong to celebrations, but municipal communities encountered an unwillingness of participants to reserve their unbound revelry to a limited time, especially with the “inverted” holidays. The last problem associated with time is the second life of celebrations in the collective memory of the medieval city.94 This is true of both regular and irregular holidays. In a society based mostly on the oral and visual transfer and maintenance of information, the form in which the holiday was kept in memory was very important, especially for irregular holidays. With the absence of rites (texts), there was no other alternative than to rely on human memory supported by material reminders. The above-mentioned celebration marking Jihlava’s successful defence was reminded to all inhabitants of the city by a fresco showing the celebratory procession in the Minorite abbey church. If we remain in Jihlava and move only a few streets but go forward in time a century, an unknown artist painted the celebratory procession on the front of a building in the street from the Brtnická gate to the town square; a lasting reminder of significant visits to the city (the king entered through the Brtnická gate on his way from Moravia to Bohemia). Religious festivals showed themselves outside the day of their occurrence in the imagery decorating the city churches.95 The “memory of holidays” was mostly graphic in the lay environment and larger amounts of text about celebrations only begin to appear toward the end of the Middle Ages. 94

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On memory in the medieval city in general, see Otto Gerhard Oexle, “Die Stadtkultur des Mittelalters als Erinnerungskultur,” in Dortmund und Conrad von Soest im spätmittelalterlichen Europa, eds. Thomas Schilp and Barbara Welzel (Bielefeld: Verlag für Regionalgeschichte, 2004), pp. 11–28; for casuistic analyses, see Juraj Šedivý, “Zu ewiger gedechtnuss … zachovávanie spomienky (traditio memoriae) v meštianskom prostredí stredovekého Prešporka/Bratislavy,” in Memoria et damnatio memoriae ve středověku, ed. Martin Nodl (Prague: Filosofia, 2014), pp. 129–43; Borovský, “Čas, minulost, memoria,” pp. 25–31. For the function of church decoration, see the considerations of Robert Šimůnek, “Historikův virtuální svět. Interiér kostela jako typ reprezentativního prostoru v pozdně středověkých Čechách,” in Rituály, ceremonie a festivity ve střední Evropě 14. a 15. století, pp. 257–93.

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Besides the timing, there are three other factors fundamental to shaping municipal celebrations: the space in which they took place; the procession as an inseparable part of every municipal celebration; and public feasts. The space of cities has up to now been studied from the point of view of the city’s layout and construction regulations in Bohemian and Moravian historiography.96 However, this only captures one of the aspects of shaping space inside the city walls and it cannot explain how much the space was socially constructed by individual societal groups that lived inside the agglomeration.97 The medieval city’s holidays and celebrations took place in a space that in today’s terminology we would label as public:98 on the streets, squares, markets, churches, taverns, and administrative halls. Although some parts of the festivities could take place outside the city walls (i.e. the consecration of branches on Palm Sunday), the centre of gravity remained in the central parts of the city or in the ecclesiastic district where religious buildings were concentrated (around the chapter church and so forth). During the celebrations, the status of spaces would change as would their physical appearance. The houses that would accommodate the sovereign were repaired ahead of his arrival, obstacles were removed from the street, and some buildings could have been razed if they did not correspond to the plans of the celebration.99 The simple differentiation of public–private spaces was suspended and the public part was hierarchically re-ordered. Some areas that had been public were inaccessible because the court used them as their base during the sovereign’s visit. The most important spaces, besides religious buildings and the city hall, were areas through which the procession passed. It often followed and helped create a “holy topography” of the city because it stopped at churches and chapels. Holy space could be created outside sacred ground as well, provided the procession included a canopy under which walked the sovereign, or a priest carried the chest with the sacrament. In the imagination of the participants, heaven thus descended to Earth and offered the uplifting touch of holiness.100 We cannot imagine life in the medieval city without processions. From a few processions each year in the early Middle Ages, their number ballooned 96 97

Cf. Hoffmann, Středověké město, chapter IV. The “social production” of space was introduced by sociologist Henri Lefebvre, a summary of his thoughts can be found in Christian Schmid, Stadt, Raum und Gesellschaft. Henri Lefebvre und die Theorie der Produktion des Raumes (Munich: Franz Steiner, 2005). 98 Cf. the election collection Stadtgestalt und Öffentlichkeit. Die Entstehung politischer Räume in der Stadt der Vormoderne, ed. Stephan Albrecht (Cologne/Weimar/Vienna: Böhlau, 2010); further works cited by Borovský, “Aktéři a(nebo) veřejnost,” pp. 67–81. 99 Regine Schweers, “Die Bedeutung des Raumes für das Scheitern oder Gelingen des Adventus,” in Adventus. Studien zum herrscherlichen Einzug in die Stadt, eds. Peter Johanek and Angelika Lampen (Cologne/Weimar/Vienna: Böhlau, 2009), pp. 37–55. 100 Schenk, “Heiltümer und geraubte Himmel,” pp. 215–237.

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to several dozens celebratory processions with different forms.101 There were processions of intercession, gratitude, supplication, celebration, and penance. The religious authors carefully differentiated between the individual types and precisely prescribed the conditions for participation, the order, and the course of the procession, but the way they actually took place often departed from the norms. The procession was made up of living people who used it for more than just celebrating God and the saints. The fundamental function of the procession in municipal society was to display earthly hierarchy. Undoubtedly the climax of the procession was the sacrament or relics of saints, or in the case of the king’s arrival the sovereign himself, but the placement of the lay people and their distance from the central point of the procession showed spectators the order of societal relations in the city. The preferential spots for the mayor and councillors were clear and the guild masters were next to them, as well as the representatives of various brotherhoods, the pupils of the city’s schools, and during special events women certainly took part as well. The so-called Soběslav and Old Town Rights were most probably created shortly after the death of King Albert II in 1439 and they were later amended. Part of one of them was a regulation of how the trades should be ordered under their banners during the welcoming of the king (and it can be assumed that this is how the masters were ordered in the welcoming procession as well). The butchers were first, followed by the goldsmiths, armourers, furriers, tailors, cobblers, cutlers, maltsters, bakers, coopers, barbers, cloth makers, and finally the merchants.102 The list certainly does not include all the city’s professions and so it is possible that besides those named members of other corporations also assembled. The scribe also emphasised the symbols next to which the members of individual guilds were prescribed to stand. For example, butchers were to assemble under a red banner with a white one-tailed uncrowned lion on one side and the other adorned with a grating flanked by two men in armour hacking away at it with axes (the symbol they allegedly received from John of Luxembourg for help opening the Prague gates in 1310).103 Spectators could feast their eyes not only on the procession with its clear representation of the city’s order, but 101 Explicitly Jacques Chiffoleau, “Les processions parisiennes de 1412. Analyse d’un rituel flamboyant,” Revue historique 284 (1991), pp. 38–76; for more see Löther, Prozessionen in spätmittelalterlichen Städten; Jan Hrdina, Aleš Mudra and Marcela K. Perett, “Re-use and Reinvent: The Function of Processions in Late Medieval and Early Modern Bohemia,” Studia mediaevalia Bohemica 7 (2015), pp. 289–312. 102 Die sogenannten Sobieslaw’schen Rechte. Ein Prager Stadtrechtsbuch aus dem 15. Jahrhundert, ed. Rudolf Schranil (Munich/Leipzig: Duncker & Humblot, 1916), pp. 89–91. 103 A critical analysis of this story was performed by Petr Čornej, “Kočička, Kurvička, Kokot a Múdrá Hlavička aneb staroměstští řezníci v husitské revoluci,” Pražský sborník historický 40 (2012), pp. 84–8.

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also a complicated spectacle of colours and symbols. Individual groups could be recognised by the banners above their heads; important burghers by their coats of arms; and clerics beside relics also carried the Gospels, banners, and images. Personal and group symbols made it simpler to identify their carriers who dressed in their best clothes for the occasion. However, not everyone was able to wear what they wished. The austere Taborite ideals from the beginning of the Hussite revolt in did not take hold in Prague, but regulation of luxury goods did, here as a tool of social differentiation. No tradesman or his wife was allowed to wear marten or ash furs in public, which was reserved for burghers with property in the countryside or estate owners.104 The clothes of wealthy burghers were certainly bursting with colour, although black began to become the colour of solemn celebrations in the late Middle Ages. Black velvet clothing, however, contrasted well with gold chains and other decorations. The horses’ coverings were also of black cloth.105 White was the dominant colour worn by clerics during the Palm Sunday procession, while during other holidays they wore chasubles made from expensive cloth decorated with embroidery that depicted the Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ, or significant saints. Colours and images were not lacking in the processions. A constant problem associated with processions was the differentiation between participants and spectators, which was not constant. What good would a procession be if there was no one to watch it? Participation in the celebratory procession elevated the burghers involved and illustrated their societal position and social prestige. This does not mean, however, that the spectators were inferior from the point of view of the celebration. The spectacle was meant for them and they were the object of the authority on display. Participation in the procession differed according to the type. Some could include all the inhabitants of the city (such as a procession of penance), others could be reserved for select groups of the most respected burghers (i.e. the welcoming of the king).106 If burghers from among those who regularly sat on city councils could count on participating in every procession, others, such as the prostitutes of the city, had very limited opportunities.107 104 Petr Čornej, “Kočička, Kurvička,” p. 80, see also p. 77. 105 Citations in Antonín–Borovský, Panovnické vjezdy, pp. 231–5. 106 For a summary of the debate about the “public” in the pre-modern period, see for example Schenk, Zeremoniell und Politik, pp. 59–65; differently on the topic, see Mark Mersiowsky, “Wege zur Öffentlichkeit. Kommunikation und Medieneinsatz in der spätmittelalterlichen Stadt,” in Stadtgestalt und Öffentlichkeit, pp. 13–58. 107 Cf. Peter Schuster, “Lebensbedingungen der Prostituierten in der spätmittelalterlichen Stadt,” in Frauen in der Stadt, eds. Günther Hödl, Fritz Mayrhofer and Ferdinand Opll (Linz: Österreichischer Arbeitskreis für Stadtgeschichtsforschung, 2003), pp. 265–91.

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Communal feasting remains an intrinsic part of celebrations and holidays to this day. In medieval cities it was used to confirm agreements and strengthen emotional ties between members of the feasting community, among other things.108 The selection and amount of food supported the importance of the holiday being celebrated and the seating order at the feasting table reflected the relationships among the revellers. Municipal feasts could take place in closed spaces (city hall), or in squares. Access to the set tables was restricted, however, and public feasting played a similar role to participation in the procession: representation. The groaning tables were not decorated with fine accoutrements so much as with an abundance. Poet Eustach Deschamps described in his verses an unflattering portrait of feasting the Luxembourger Czech lands: “Salted fish, smoked pork, / an awful soup you’ll get, 12 in a single bowl,” and the list continues with complaints about over-seasoned tough meat, black pepper, rotten vegetables, leek, dirty tablecloths, and ever-present beer.109 The French poet, however, believed food to be inedible in all the lands he visited, including Italy, where he received food that he would “rather throw to a beggar.” Thus, his account of disgusting gastronomical, hygienic, and meteorological realities outside the French kingdom should be taken with a grain of salt.110 A popular delicacy during feasts was fish, especially pike,111 in various methods of preparation. Other types of meat do not appear in great amounts in the accounts of Bohemian and Moravian cities, but this does not mean they were absent from the table. During Sigismund’s visit to Znojmo in the spring of 1421, councillors bought various specialities for the royal court, including treats, vinegar, and herbs, as well as various types of pastries for the honoured guests. Good food was accompanied by fine drinks – March beer, strong wines, or those brought by city merchants from Austrian lands where heavy Greek and Italian wines could also be purchased.112 Hussite councillors in Prague’s Old Town usually preferred beer from Świdnica or Turnov, but the cups were also filled with strong sweet wines, and even figs could be found on the table.113 108 See Gerhard Fouquet, “Das Festmahl in der oberdeutschen Städten des Spätmittelalters. Zu Form, Funktion und Bedeutung öffentlichen Konsums,” Archiv für Kulturgeschichte 74 (1992), pp. 83–123. 109 Quoted according to the translation by Černý, Staročeská milostná lyrika, pp. 218–9. 110 Martin Nejedlý, “Poezie Eustacha Deschampse jako historický pramen 14. století,” ČČH 96 (1998), pp. 26–71; Martin Nejedlý, Fortuny kolo vrtkavé. Láska, moc a společnost ve středověku (Prague: Aleš Skřivan ml., 2003), pp. 231–339. 111 Fouquet, “Das Festmahl in der oberdeutschen Städten”; for more see for example Vlastimil Svěrák, “Štiky pro císaře. Přípravy jihlavské městské rady k uvítání císaře Maxmiliána II. počátkem roku 1575,” Jihlavský archivní občasník 1 (2003–2004), pp. 197–207. 112 Antonín and Borovský, Panovnické vjezdy, pp. 159, 167–71. 113 Berní knihy Starého Města pražského (1427–1434), ed. Hana Pátková (Prague: Scriptorium, 1996), pp. 150–1, 171.

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The revellers had more to hold their attention than just food and drink. Musical accompaniment to the celebration is documented for royal visits and it is difficult to know whether municipal musicians entertained their employers during purely civic events as well. As time passed and stomachs filled, attention shifted from the feasting table and food and drink became parts of other entertainment, dances, contests, etc. Just like the celebration, the feast also took place in two phases: the first official subject to societal controls that worked to confirm the social order, while the second was relaxed, unbound by regulation, and offered relief after hours of serious conduct. (figure 7.3) The time, space, procession, and feast categories are not the only ones we can use to understand better the importance of medieval municipal holidays

Figure 7.3 The renaissance fresco on a house in Znojemská Street in Jihlava shows part of the ceremonial procession, which usually entered the city at this place (Borovský).

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and celebrations. We could also add dance and music, performances by jugglers, charitable acts such as the distribution of food and so on. I consider the four mentioned to be the most important; microcosms of celebrations where the fundamental elements were concentrated and they shaped the final result. And if there is a lay celebration, right away or shortly afterward many fall into melancholy (…) And thus the Lord God made it that there can be no worldly celebration without some pain. Jan Hus, Daughter

As the end of the celebration approached, the holiday showed its seamier side. Many recognised it during the festivities. More than one money pouch changed hands during the crush in the city streets. Wine fired passions as the celebration shifted into scuffles in taverns and public spaces. The harvest Prague’s thieves had during the grandiose celebrations of the coronation of Wenceslas II in 1297 was even documented by chronicler Petr Žitavský.114 However, the inhabitants of the city were not always to blame. During the ceremonial completion of the Olomouc agreements in 1479, Matthias Corvinus was not able to control his hot-headed Hungarian lords and the burghers of Olomouc could only watch with horror the bloody fights within the walls of their city.115 During the stay of Vladislaus II in Prague in 1509, a bloody fight broke out after the Feast of the Ascension between the Hungarian members of his retinue and the Czechs over a prostitute.116 The fights logically most often took place in the city’s taverns where cheerful drinkers lost control of their emotions. Blood did not have to flow, however. A few poorly chosen words led to a friendly chat over wine transforming into a sharp argument with insults that later had to be resolved by the city court. The body did not suffer, but the honour of the burghers did, which meant the damage was just as great.117 The post-revelry sadness was not just in the form of physical blows and insults. It also regularly arrived when the councillors had to count the costs. 114 Chronicon Aulae Regiae, ed. Josef Emler, frb IV (Prague: Nadání Františka Palackého, 1884), pp. 73, 77. 115 Peter Eschenloer, Geschichte der Stadt Breslau, ed. Gunhild Roth (New York/Munich/ Berlin: Waxmann, 2003), pp. 1064–1065. On celebrations staged by Matthias’s court inside the Olomouc city walls, see Antonín Kalous, Matyáš Korvín (1443–1490). Uherský a český král (České Budějovice: Veduta, 2009), pp. 181–3, 324–5. 116 Staré letopisy české z rukopisu Křižovnického, pp. 341–3. 117 Liber informationum et sententiarum čili Naučení Brněnská Hradišťské městské radě dávaná od r. 1447 až do r. 1509, ed. Ignác Tkáč (Uherské Hradiště: Tiskem Leopolda R. Krácelíka, 1882), pp. 256–7, 266–8.

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We unfortunately only know the total approximate expenditures for the welcoming of the sovereign, which was an exceptional occasion even among celebrations and whose share of the city’s annual income could reach up to one quarter.118 The question of how often a city could afford to welcome a king at its gates is thus rather superfluous, especially when we realise the financial system of medieval cities was not based on creating financial reserves and the grand majority of money collected was quickly returned into circulation.119 Concise reckoning in the style of “should give  – gave” associated with the development of accounting systems was unknown to late medieval burghers despite the development of trade. In their mental systems, however, expenditures for celebrations and personal representation were not excessive. They produced returns in another form: social capital. Showing one’s wealth publicly, being close to the king, or acquiring a coat of arms as a symbol of (self-) identification was more valuable than a chest full of money. For burghers, guilds, brotherhoods, and city councillors, the orderly course of the holiday was more important than the state of their finances that desperately sounded the alarm in the days afterwards. Hus’s words about “worldly joy” from the introduction of this section are not only an expression of the knowledge that happiness is not lasting and is always followed by shortages, pain, and hardship. We can also see the meaning of celebration in the everyday cycle of municipal life. The cultural system of the medieval city could not work without the relatively frequent holidays. It is thus not a coincidence that even during the times of radical social upheaval at the beginning of the Hussite wars old holidays are smoothly transformed into often just slightly modified versions of themselves and continued to be celebrated.120 Older defunct holidays are replaced by new ones that fill the empty spaces in the calendar of festivities. Holidays and celebration formed the flow of time in a city, visualised its social hierarchy, represented the city to the outside world, and offered space for representation of individuals and groups. Above all, however, holidays united the celebrating society, strengthened ties in the community, and offered hope in the face of the relentless turns of medieval Fortuna’s wheel. 118 Antonín and Borovský, Panovnické vjezdy, pp. 153–4. 119 Cf. Tomáš Borovský and Tomáš Sterneck, “Města a měšťané,” in Peníze nervem společnosti. K finančním poměrům na Moravě od poloviny 14. do počátku 17. století, eds. Tomáš Borovský, Bronislav Chocholáč and Pavel Pumpr (Brno: Matice moravská, 2007), pp. 229–91. 120 Čornej, “Slavnosti husitské Prahy,” pp. 213–34; Antonín and Borovský, Panovnické vjezdy, pp. 221–4.

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Index of Geographic Names Aachen 15, 41, 49 Alt-Münster, abbey 110, 111 Amberg 57, 59, 80 Amiens 110 Ansbach 94 Avignon 137, 181, 287, 288 Bamberg 70, 307 Basel 34, 274, 277, 329, 334 Bautzen 134, 182 Blatná 232 Bologna 166 Bonn 15 Bouvines 108 Bratislava 158, 160, 162, 164, 305 Břevnov 314, 338 Brno 83, 160, 271, 313, 317, 320, 321, 323, 330, 331, 338 Bruges 77 Brzeg 185, 187, 196, 210, 215, 216 Buda 126, 160, 162, 297, 304 Budyně nad Ohří 83 Cambrai 240 Čáslav 275 Celje 161 Český Krumlov 231, 233, 273, 321, 322 Chaalis 112 Cheb  59, 67, 78, 82, 94 Chojna 199 Cieszyn 215 Clairefontaine, abbey 108, 112 Colmar 82 Cologne 71, 72, 76, 167 Constantinople 189 Contance 282, 283, 334 Cracow 17, 49, 68, 172, 178, 207, 211, 212, 215, 304, 305 Crécy 100, 108, 110, 126 Dolní Kounice 320 Esztergom 49, 50, 96, 100, 160 Florence 289 Frankfurt 63, 69, 81, 127, 164, 167 Friburg 73

Głogów 190, 200, 207-209, 213, 214 Głubczyce  202, 209 Gniezno 49, 83, 206 Görlitz 134, 165, 166, 197, 199 Heidelberg 240 Heilbronn 61 Heimbach, abbey 71-74 Horažďovice 100 Jemielnica 202 Jerusalem 301, 317 Jihlava 8, 65, 67, 327, 333, 341, 346 Kamieniec Podolski 280 Karlovy Vary 230 Karlštejn  27, 276 Klingenberg 160 Komárno 100, 160 Kouřim 246 Kressenbrunn 222 Kutná Hora (Kuttenberg) 72, 275, 331 Kyšperk 247 Landshut 58, 59, 69, 78 Ledeč nad Sázavou 231 Legnica 196, 197, 199, 210 Lipnice 275 Litomyšl 165, 259, 271, 272 Loket 230 Luxembourg 105, 134 Magdeburg 146 Maintenay, priory 109, 112, 127 Mainz 45, 76, 77, 127, 167, 178, 221, 286, 287 Mantua 95 Marchfeld 65, 247 Maubuisson 112 Meissen 308 Mettlach 111 Milan 15 Mohácz 100, 164, 169 Montargis 110  Morea 189 Mühldorf 222

403

Index of Geographic Names Naples 296, 297 Neszmély 100, 113 Nisa 183 Nördlingen 164 Nuremberg 70, 164 Nymburk 275 Olava 183, 199, 204 Oleśnica 189, 196 Olomouc 27, 258, 259, 270-272, 279, 280, 293, 311, 317, 318, 323, 325, 330-333, 347 Opava 190, 196, 204, 210, 216, 323 Opole 196 Oradea 5, 107, 114, 157, 158, 170, 271 Ourscamp, abbey 110 Paris 16, 112, 165, 168 Pisa 204 Polná 248 Prague 10, 11, 14, 20-22, 24, 27, 30, 39, 44-46, 55, 56, 60, 61, 83, 84, 88, 94, 95, 100, 107, 117-123, 125, 130-133, 135, 137, 143-145, 150, 153, 157, 158, 164, 166-170, 178, 186, 239, 258, 259, 268-272, 275, 276, 278, 279, 286, 287, 291, 292, 296, 299-303, 307, 308, 311, 321, 324, 325, 328, 331, 333335, 339, 340, 343, 344, 347 Prague Castle 39, 42, 43, 46, 47, 49, 73, 103, 114, 115, 122, 125, 126, 131, 132, 137, 144, 145, 148, 152, 155-157, 170, 223, 248, 272, 274, 300 Prague - Vyšehrad 4, 38, 39, 43, 52, 93, 131, 132, 144, 145, 150, 152 Prostějov 296 Raab 113, 160 Ratibor 184, 185, 187, 190 Regensburg 307 Reims  48, 49, 51 Rennes 66 Romans 340 Rome 15, 95, 204, 290, 301 Roudnice 273, 276 Rudy 185 Saint-Denis, abbey 118, 165 Santiago de Compostella 240 Schwerin 270

Sezimovo Ústí 336 Sinsheim 71 Slaný 291 Sluis 77 Speyer 57, 63, 67, 70, 71, 73-77, 79, 80, 270 Spišská kapitula 50 Stams 100 Strasbourg 82 Świdnica 134, 176, 196, 345 Świebodzinie 209 Székesfehérvár 5, 49, 50, 113, 115, 127, 157, 162, 164, 170 Szprotawa 206 Tábor 291 Tachov 243 Těšín 156 Tournai 108 Tours 78, 168 Třebíč 320 Trent 48 Trier 90, 91 Troy 77 Turnov 345 Urach 57, 59, 80 Valloires, abbey 109, 110, 127 Veliz 222 Venice 69, 325 Vienna 66, 100, 113, 137, 160, 162, 167, 223, 271 Visegrád 127 Vyšší Brod, abbey 234 Wieliczka 304 Wilten, abbey 62, 67 Wrocław 127, 134, 176-180, 182, 183, 186, 189, 194-198, 204-206, 211, 212, 214, 233, 259, 271, 279, 280, 284, 288, 291, 292, 302, 303 Würzburg 228 Żagań 200, 205, 206 Zbraslav, abbey 12, 42, 60, 62, 102, 108, 114, 118, 126, 144-147, 149, 151, 221, 224 Ziębice 196, 208 Zittau 83 Znojmo  101, 158, 345

Index of Personal Names (Modern authors and historians are in italics) Adalbert Ranconis of Ježov 138–141 Adam Tovačovský of Cimburk 239 Adelheid of Meissen, queen of Bohemia 87–89 Agnes (Saint) of Bohemia 61, 64, 189 Agnes of Kuenring 90 Agnes of Oppeln 135 Agnes, daughter of Wenceslas II 84 Agostino Patrizi Piccolomini 264, 267, 293, 298, 304, 305 Albert II of Habsburg, king of Bohemia and Hungary 22, 23, 24, 25, 42, 47, 52, 100, 101, 107, 113, 158, 160–162, 166, 167, 176, 182, 196, 226, 293, 343 Albert of Colditz 189 Albert of Šternberk, bishop of Litomyšl 43, 44, 270 Albert of Žeberk 242 Albert, archduke of Austria 111 Albert, duke of Saxony 78, 293 Albrecht III Achilles, margrave of Brandenburg 81, 94, 95, 182, 228 Alexander IV, pope 90 Alexander VI, pope 96 Alfonso V, king of Aragon 196 Althoff, Gerd 2, 219 Andrew, bishop of Prague 258 Anna of Bavaria, queen of Bohemia 118 Anna of Bohemia, queen of England 181 Anna of Jagellon, queen of Bohemia 28, 29 Anna, duchess of Opava 190 Anna, queen of Bohemia 69 Anne (Saint) 189 Anne of Foix, queen of Bohemia and Hungary 69, 164, 307 Anne, duchess of Brittany 66 Antonia Visconti 69 Antonio Bonfini, chronicler 162, 163 Aristotle 34, 140 Arnold of Arlon 110 Augustin (Saint) 140 Augustin of Györ 25, 279 Augustine Luciani 274, 275, 291

Barbara of Brandenburg, queen of Bohemia 59, 94, 95, 96 Barbara of Cilli, queen of Bohemia and Hungary 29, 30, 158, 161, 279, 334 Bartholomew of Ziębice 194 Bavor of Strakonice 102, 224 Beatrice of Aragon, queen of Bohemia 29, 73, 95, 96, 163, 294, 306 Beatrice of Hohenstaufen 86 Beatrix of Avesnes 72 Beatrix of Luxembourg 60, 62, 108 Beatrix of Swabia 54 Bela IV of Hungary, king of Hungary 51 Benedict XII, pope 91, 93 Beneš (Benessius) Krabice of Weitmile, chronicler 103, 108, 126, 269, 276, 286, 288 Beneš Černohorský of Boskovice 322, 323 Beneš of Choustník 255 Beneš of Vartemberk 83 Bernard Clesio, bishop of Trent 28, 41 Bernard du Rosier 297 Bernardino of Siena 323 Betrand, patriarch of Aquileia 93 Blanche of Valois, queen of Bohemia 13, 29, 119 Boccaccio 222 Bohuš of Zvole, bishop of Olomouc 271 Bohuslav of Švamberk 231 Boleslav II, duke of Bohemia 118 Boleslav, duke of Opava 185 Boleslav I, duke of Cieszyn 199 Boleslav III the Generous 175, 179, 213 Boleslav, duke of Legnica 175, 189 Bolko II the Small, duke of Świdnica 201 Bořivoj of Svinaře 47 Břeněk Švihovský of Riesenburk and Skála 30 Brückner, Wolfgang 123, 142 Brunner, Heinrich 123 Bruno of Schauenburg, bishop of Olomouc 258 Burchard, archbishop of Magdeburg 10

Index of Personal Names Burian Kaplíř of Sulevice 222 Burian Lazar 168 Burian Ledečský of Říčany 231 Burkard Zink 106 Caesar Augustus 15 Casimir IV, king of Poland 70, 78, 94, 126, 129, 143, 304 Casimir II, duke of Cieszyn 209 Casimir, duke of Opole-Bytom 224 Cassiodorus 140 Castell-sur-la-Sarre 111 Catharine (Saint) 189 Catherine of Luxembourg 55 Catherine of Rožmberk 322 Catherine of Sweden 30 Čeněk of Sendražice 329 Charlemagne 40, 49, 51, 165 Charles IV of Luxembourg, king of Bohemia, Holy Roman emperor 3–5, 13–19, 23, 25, 26, 29, 33–40, 42, 43, 45, 46, 48, 49, 52, 54–56, 64, 65, 93, 101, 103, 105, 106, 109, 110, 112–127, 129–134, 136, 138–140, 143, 152, 153, 155, 164, 165, 170, 181, 182, 201, 204, 207, 252, 253, 275, 279, 288, 294, 306–308, 321 Charles IV (the Fair), king of France 112 Charles V of Valois, king of France 165 Charles VI, king of France 131 Charles VII, king of France 51, 56, 78, 131, 168 Charles Robert I of Anjou, king of Hungary 49, 50, 60, 65, 126, 127 Charles the Bold, duke of Burgundy 77 Charles of Münsterberg 305 Charles of Valois 112 Charvát, Petr 242 Christoph von Thein 251 Cicero 140 Claes Heinenzoon, herald 196 Claudian 140 Clement V, pope 112 Clement VI, pope 44, 279 Clement VII, pope 306 Conrad III the Older 197 Conrad IV 189, 197 Conrad of Vechta, archbishop of Prague 21, 45, 279, 291

405 Conrad, bishop of Wrocław 288 Constance of Hungary, queen of Bohemia  88, 89 Cordula (Saint) 189 Čornej, Petr 149 Cosmas of Prague, chronicler 38, 308 Dalewski, Zbygniew 212 Dalimil (so called), chronicler 38, 101 Daniel, bishop of Prague 88, 89, 278 Dětřich (Theoderich) of Jindřichův Hradec, bishop of Olomouc 271 Dionysius Szécsi, archbishop of Esztergom 279 Doležalová, Eva 273 Dominik Kálmáncsehi 163 Dorota of Žďár 230 Eberhard, Count of Württemberg 69 Eberhard Windecke, chronicler 20, 146, 158, 159 Eberhart Hicfeldt 201 Edward I, king of England 65 Edward III, king of England 109, 128 Eleanor of Scotland 73 Elisabeth of Bosnia 129 Elisabeth of Luxembourg, queen of Bohemia and Hungary 113, 158, 160 Elisabeth Richeza of Poland, queen of Bohemia 55, 72, 82–84, 103 Eliška, widow 244 Elizabeth, queen of Bohemia 12, 46, 56, 57, 60–63, 69, 70, 72–75, 108, 226 Elizabeth of Pomerania, queen of Bohemia 18, 20, 135 Emeric (Saint), king of Hungary 62 Enea Silvio Piccolomini (pope Pius II) 38, 146, 147, 149, 151, 152, 247, 271, 323 Erazm Ciołek 44 Ernest of Pardubice, archbishop of Prague  13, 20, 45, 119, 269, 279, 288, 294, 308 Eugene IV, pope 166 Eustach Deschamps 345 Ferdinand I of Habsburg, king of Bohemia and Hungary, Holy Roman emperor 28, 41, 42, 52, 170, 333, 335 Foucalt, Michel 215 

406 Francesco da Toledo 302 Francis I, king of France 111 Francis of Prague, chronicler 90, 91, 101, 262, 267, 271, 288 Frederick I, Holy Roman emperor 221, 278 Frederick II, Holy Roman emperor 62, 64, 72 Frederick III, Holy Roman emperor 70, 78, 142, 163, 210, 235 Frederick I, duke of Legnica 177, 190 Frederick II, duke of Legnica 194, 204, 207, 211, 212 Frederick III, Margrave of Meissen 142 Frederick V of the Palatinate 27 Frederick, Margrave of Brandenburg 27, 47 Frederick of Bieberstein 213 Frederick Hohenzollern, Nuremburg burgrave 64 Friedrich Wilhelm, king of Prussia 111 Gabriel Rangoni 306, 323 Gabriel Tetzel 240 Galfredus de Vino Salvo 140 George of Poděbrady, king of Bohemia 24, 25,26, 29, 30, 59, 78, 106, 114, 151–153, 155–157, 168, 171, 208, 210, 246, 247, 279, 284, 295, 303, 333 George I, duke of Brzeg 207, 208 George, margrave of Brandenburg 32, 227, 305 George, son of Louis IX, duke of Bavaria 70 George Hrdina, Prague Mayor 107, 168, 169 Gerhard of Obřany 242 Gerhard, archbishop of Mainz 10 Giacomo Stefaneschi 298 Giangaleazzo Visconti 255 Girolamo Lando 300, 302 Götz von Berlichingen 240 Gregor of Heimburg 157 Gregory IX, pope 79, 273 Gregory X, pope 65 Gregory of Dražice 268 Gryfina of Halych 83 Guido de Paredo 278 Günther of Schwarzburg, king of Romans 127, 128, 143

Index of Personal Names György Palóczi, archbishop of Esztergom 279 Hanuš of Kolovraty 23, 226 Hanuš Pluh of Rabštejn 230 Hartmann of Germany, son of Rudolf I of Habsburg 64, 65 Hay, Denys 259 Hedwig, queen of Poland 67, 68 Hedwig (Saint) of Silesia 68, 193, 194 Hedwig, Duchess of Legnica 210 Hedwig, the daughter of Casimir IV 69 Heidenreich, abbot of Sedlec 83, 101 Heinrich Fullenstein, bishop of Nicopolis 271 Heinrich von Freiberg 257 Helena Kottaner 50 Henry (VII) of Staufen 64, 90 Henry VII of Luxembourg, Holy Roman emperor 56, 61, 62, 63, 69, 72, 73, 75, 77, 82, 83, 165 Henry of Bohemia, duke of Carinthia 11, 60, 62, 67, 69 Henry I of Münsterberg-Oels 95, 208, 209 Henry I the Bearded 68, 194 Henry IV Probus, duke of Wrocław 196 Henry IV, duke of Brzeg 172 Henry IX, duke of Lublin Henry V of Iron, duke 174, 181, 213 Henry VI, duke of Wrocław 172, 207 Henry VII Rumpold, duke of Głogów 206, 216 Henry VIII the Faithful 196  Henry VIII the Sparrow 206 Henry of Rožmberk 102 Henry of Vildštejn, bishop of Korja 137, 138, 165 Henry, bishop of Basel 66 Hilarius of Litoměřice 26, 246 Hincmar, archbishop of Reims 32 Hledíková, Zdeňka 262 Hynek Boček of Kunštát 248 Hynek of Bítov 247 Hynek of Poděbrady 222 Ingeborg of Denmark 79, 87 Innocent III, pope 34, 86–88, 121

Index of Personal Names Innocent IV, pope 87, 94 Innocent VIII, pope 96 Isabella Clara Eugenia, ruler of the Spanish Netherlands 111 Isabella of England 72, 73 Jan Děčínský of Vartenberk 247 Jan Długosz, chronicler 68, 81, 215, 295 Jan Hasištejnský of Lobkovice 222, 240 Jan Hus 282, 283 Jan III of Rožmberk 30, 227, 233, 249 Jan Kalivoda, canon 317 Jan of Guštejn 230 Jan of Holešov 314 Jan of Kalocza 50 Jan of Michalovice 257 Jan of Mýto 30, 40, 41 Jan of Střiebrná 324 Jan of Švamberk, prior 232, 249 Jan Reček 324 Jan Roháč of Dubá 254, 255, 329 Jan Zajíc of Házmburk 223, 240 Jaroslav of Šelmberk 247 Jean Froissart 108 Jean-Raymond de Comminges, Cardinalbishop of Porto 269 Jerome (Saint) 140 Jiljí Štampach of Štampach 230 Jindřich of Gutštejn 247 Jindřich of Lipá, Supreme Marshal 24, 76 Jindřich of Michalovice 30  Jindřich of Rožmberk 30, 228, 231 Jistislav of Chlum 242 Joan of Arc 51 Joanna of Bavaria, queen of Bohemia 135, 142 Joanna of Rožmitál, queen of Bohemia 29, 30, 232 Jobst (Jošt, Jodocus) of Rožmberk 231, 233, 279, 288, 303 Jobst of Glucholaz, abbot 189 Jobst, Margrave of Moravia 135, 142 Jogaila (Jagiello), king of Poland 68 Johann Burckard 264, 267, 293, 298 Johannes Butzbach 230, 247 Johannes de Alta Vita 140 John of Luxembourg, king of Bohemia 5, 12, 13, 29, 46, 56, 57, 60–63, 67, 73–77,

407 79, 82, 100, 101, 105, 108, 109, 111, 112, 126, 170, 172, 174, 175, 226, 275, 277, 288, 343 John Henry of Luxembourg, Margrave of Moravia 67, 91–93, 275 John of Görlitz 30 John, duke of Lubin 204 John, duke of Ratibor 187, 199 John, margrave of Brandenburg 200 John of Ścinawa 172 John the Good, duke of Burgundy 128 John I of Żagań 213 John I, duke of Ziębice 199 John II the Mad, duke of Ratibor 197, 208, 214 John III of Oświęcim 178 John de Cardailhac, patriarch of Alexandria 306 John Ház, bishop of Olomouc 271, 279, 295 John Očko of Vlašim, archbishop of Prague  137, 138, 269, 270, 276, 286 John of Jenštejn, archbishop of Prague 15, 117, 137–140 John IV of Dražice, bishop of Prague 29, 258, 268, 269, 271, 287 John Rokycana, archbishop 22, 24, 45, 114, 153–156, 333, 334 John Filipec, bishop of Oradea 26, 44, 271, 285, 296, 297 John Gardensis, auxiliary bishop of Wrocław  271 John V Thurzo, bishop of Wrocław 271, 280 John, archbishop of Cologne 74 John of Saalhausen, bishop of Meissen 280 John Baptist Boch 111 John Guallensis 149 John Hlavsa 107, 169 John Joffridi, prior of Arbois 167 John Nastojte 169 John of Capistrano 7, 311, 322, 323 John of Głubczyce 185 John of Házmburk and Kost 190 John of Neumarkt (Jan of Středa), chancellor 20, 270, 271 John Pašek 107, 169, 170 John Thuroczi, chronicler 126 Johnek of Czarnkow 129 

408 Juan Carvajal, legate 78, 299, 301, 302, 305, 335 Judith, queen of Bohemia 10, 66, 82, 102, 103 Kadlec, Jaroslav 138 Kaspar Schlik 113 Kavka, František 20 Konrad of Zittau, abbot 61, 63, 83, 101 Konrad, goldsmith 125 Konrad, jeweller 104 Kristian, author of legend 247 Kryštof of Gutštejn 248 Krzysztof Szydłowiecki 305 Kuneš of Zvole 294 Kunigunde, queen of Bohemia 66 Kunigunde of Kolovraty, abbess of the Convent of St. George 30 Kunigunde of Bohemia, abbess of the Convent of St. George 46 Kunigunde, daughter of Ottokar II 64, 65 Ladislaus (Saint), king of Hungary 158, 160 Ladislaus Posthumous, king of Bohemia and Hungary 24, 47, 50, 56, 77, 78, 100, 106, 114, 136, 142, 151–157, 167, 168, 182, 201, 279, 295, 32 Leszek II the Black, duke of Cracow 83 Lev of Rožmitál 240, 252 Lorenzo Campeggio 304 Louis IV, Holy Roman emperor 91, 92, 222 Louis IX (Saint), king of France 118 Louis I, king of Hungary 67, 127 Louis II Jagellon, king of Bohemia and Hungary 27, 31, 43, 100, 115, 163, 164, 169, 170, 221, 280, 304, 318 Louis I, duke of Brzeg 175, 187, 190, 191, 193, 203, 205, 207, 210 Louis II, duke of Brzeg 180, 182, 186, 196, 197, 199, 200, 204 Louis IX, duke of Bavaria 70, 228 Louis V, the Brandenburger 92–94 Lucas Leupold 333 Ludmila (Saint), duchess of Bohemia 118 Ludmila of Rožmberk 231 Ludolf of Żagań (Sagan) 145, 146, 148

Index of Personal Names Macek, Josef 114, 307 Magdalena of Valois, daughter of Charles VII of France 56, 78, 151, 168 Marco Barbo 303–305 Marcus Aenneaus Lucanus 140 Margaret (Saint) of Hungary 62 Margaret of Austria 89–91 Margaret of Brabant 81, 82 Margaret of York 77 Margaret, countess of Tirol and Carinthia  67, 91–94 Margaret, duchess of Ratibor 186 Margraf, Hermann 197, 199 Maria Bianca Sforza 72 Marie of Anjou, queen of France 168 Marie of Montpellier 87 Marino Sanuto 164, 291 Markéta of Popovice 329 Marsilius of Padua 91–93 Martin Chřtán 214 Martin Lupáč 156 Mary (Marie) of Luxembourg 62 Mary of Austria, queen of Bohemia and Hungary 31, 160, 221, 227, 318 Mary of Brabant 55 Mathias of Neuenburg, chronicler 110 Matthias Corvinus, king of Hungary 25, 26, 27, 59, 94, 100, 101, 114, 162, 163, 168, 177, 178, 208, 209, 211, 279, 285, 292, 293–296, 304, 306, 347 Maximilian I, Holy Roman emperor 66, 72, 223, 235, 297 Maximilian II, Holy Roman emperor 122, 136 Meinhard III of Gorizia-Tyrol 94 Menhart of Hradec, Supreme Burgrave 23, 226 Mikeš Zoul 329 Mikuláš Dačický of Heslov 231 Mikuláš Klaudyán 240 Mikuláš of Lobkovice 37, 247 Mikuláš of Potštejn 244 Mikuláš Zajíc of Házmburk and Kost, Supreme Judge 23, 226 Mikuláš, Znojmo painter 332 Muška, fisherman 146, 147

409

Index of Personal Names Nanker, bishop 45 Nebuchadnezzar 169 Nedvěd 222 Nicholas Cola 300 Nicholas of Głubczyce 193 Nicholas Prochnicki, bishop of Kamieniec Podolski 280 Nicholas, the scribe 187 Nicolaus I, duke of Opava 90 Nicolaus II, duke of Opava 184 Nicolaus of Louny 40 Nikolaus of Bibra 155 Oldřich II of Rožmberk 23, 42, 228, 231, 233 Oldřich of Krumlov, priest 313, 314, 316, 320 Oldřich, Provost of Prague 268 Otto III of Bavaria 50 Otto IV, Holy Roman emperor 54, 86 Ottokar I, king of Bohemia 11, 61, 64, 87–89, 278 Ottokar II, king of Bohemia 11, 54, 62, 64, 65, 89–91, 94, 104, 222, 247, 277 Ottokar of Styria, chronicler 10, 12, 65, 66 Palacký, František 123, 145 Paride Grassi 298, 307 Paul II, pope 320 Pavel of Miličín, bishop of Olomouc 23, 270, 279 Pavel Speratus 318 Pavel Stránský 42 Pavel Žídek 20, 254 Pelcl, František Martin 123 Peregrin Puš 244 Pero Tafur 196 Peter Eschenloer, chronicler 154, 177, 182, 211, 247, 279, 295, 302, 303 Peter Holický of Šternberk, Supreme Judge  27 Peter I of Rožmberk 76, 224, 233, 234 Peter II of Aragon 87 Peter II, bishop of Wrocław 271, 279 Peter IV of Rožmberk 27 Peter of Aspelt, archbishop of Mainz 12, 75, 77 Peter of Mladoňovice 282, 283 Peter of Vartenberk 233

Peter of Zittau, chronicler 10, 29, 56, 60, 61, 70, 74, 75, 77, 80, 83, 84, 91, 101, 102, 226, 347 Peter Parler 116 Peter Vok of Rožmberk 239 Philibert, bishop of Countances 166, 270, 274, 275, 277, 279, 293 Philip II, king of France 79, 87 Philip de Nova Villa 274, 275, 277, 291, 292 Philip of Swabia 89 Pietro Isvalies 307 Pipin III the Short, king of the Franks 32 Poche, Emanuel 104 Polende, hat master 170 Přemek, duke of Opava 172, 173, 197 Přemysl the Ploughman 38, 39 Přibík Pulkava of Radenín, chronicler 17, 38, 91 Přibyslav of Lysá 314 Procek of Kunštát 247 Prothasius (Tas) of Boskovice, bishop of Olomouc 271, 279, 295 Przemysł II, king of Poland 56, 83 Przemysław I Noszak, duke of Cieszyn 181, 186, 214 Quintus Horatius Flaccus 140 Radslav 246 Řehoř Moler 323 Remi (Saint) 34, 49 Robert Grosseteste 140 Robert, bishop of Olomouc 258 Roger of Wendover 73 Rudolf I of Habsburg, king of Romans 10, 41, 65–67, 82, 83, 102, 127, 247 Rudolf I of Habsburg, king of Bohemia 11, 56, 64, 100–105, 116, 125 Rudolf II, Holy Roman emperor 122 Rudolf IV of Habsburg 55 Rudolf of Rüdesheim, the bishop of Wrocław 284, 292, 296 Rupert, king of Romans 164 Ruprecht, duke of Legnica 175, 194, 204 Schinkel, Karel-Fridrich 111 Šebestián Pluh of Rabštejn 230

410 Šebestián Šlik 230 Seneca 140 Sidonie of Poběbrady 78 Sidonius Apolinnaris 140 Sigismund, king of Bohemia and Hungary, Holy Roman emperor 15, 20–22, 30, 37, 45, 48, 56, 64, 100, 101, 107, 114, 146, 158–160, 163, 166, 172, 180, 199, 254, 279, 294, 324, 325, 334, 335, 345 Sigismund, king of Poland 163 Sigismund of Jagellon 190 Sigismund I, duke of Głogów and Opava  194 Sigismund Rosicz, chronicler 284, 291, 303 Sigismund, Archiduke of Austria 73 Silvester Perger 255 Šimon Ennius Klatovský 325 Solomon, biblical king 139 Sophia of Bavaria, queen of Bohemia 29, 30, 35, 40, 46–48, 144 Sophia, daughter of Casimir IV 81 Spěváček, Jiří 108, 126 Stanislav Thurzo, bishop of Olomouc 224, 271, 280 Stephen (Saint), king of Hungary 49, 51 Stilicho 140 Stollberg-Rilinger, Barbara 252 Thim of Colditz 189 Thomas II, bishop of Wrocław 196 Thomas Ebendorfer 117, 167 Thomas Tuscus, chronicler 38 Tomáš Štítný 337 Tomek, Václav Vladivoj 123 Tommaso De Vio 305 Ulrich II of Cilli 161, 293 Urban IV, pope 90 Urban V, pope 269, 270, 286 Urban VI, pope 320  Ulrich V, bishop of Chur 93 Václav Koranda, radical preacher 145 Václav Koranda, university master 296 Václav of Krumlov 155 Valentin Hunchbacked, duke of Ratibor 205

Index of Personal Names Valerius Maximus 140, 149 Vavřinec Leandr Rvačovský 336 Vavřinec of Březová, chronicler 20, 21, 37, 48, 334 Veldtrup, Dieter 64 Viktorin of Poděbrady 156, 210 Vilém of Kolín 322, 323 Vincent Kiełbasa, bishop of Chełmno 280 Vincent, bishop of Vác 25, 279 Viola of Teschen, queen of Bohemia 76 Vladislaus II, king of Bohemia 11, 278 Vladislaus II Jagellon, king of Bohemia and Hungary 26–28, 33, 43, 44, 59, 69, 94–97, 101, 107, 114, 164, 168, 178, 179, 182, 183, 190, 209, 223, 280, 293, 307, 333, 335, 347 Vladislaus II the Exile 212 Vladislaus of Opole 193 Vladislaus, son of Casimir IV 70 Vladislaus, son of the duke of Cieszyn 204 Vojtěch of Pernštejn, High Steward 27 Volf of Gutštejn 230, 248 Vratislaus II, king of Bohemia 11, 118, 278 Vratislaus, son of Ottokar I 89 Walram of Luxembourg 61, 62, 72 Wenceslas (Saint), duke of Bohemia 4,18, 23, 34, 36, 37, 40, 52, 115, 246 Wenceslas I, king of Bohemia 54, 222, 277 Wenceslas II, king of Bohemia and Poland  10, 11, 12, 43, 50, 55, 56, 65, 66, 73, 82–84, 101, 103, 125, 126, 221, 224, 243, 268, 277, 347 Wenceslas III, king of Bohemia 11, 50, 102, 243 Wenceslas IV, king of Bohemia, king of Romans 15, 17, 18, 20, 29, 45, 47, 52, 56, 101, 111, 114, 132, 133, 135, 141–154, 175, 255, 269, 276, 279, 280 Wenceslas of Luxembourg, duke of Brabant 108 Wenceslas I, duke of Cieszyn 182 Wenceslas I, duke of Legnica 196 Wenceslas II, duke of Legnica 190 Wenceslas, duke of Ratibor and Opava 184– 186, 196 Wenceslas, duke of Żagań 205

411

Index of Personal Names Wenceslas I of Zátor 178 Wenceslas of Legnica, bishop of Wrocław  194, 197–199 Wenceslas Zub of Landštejn 232 Wenceslas, deceased son of Charles IV 119 Wenceslas, Old Town Scribe 169 William, duke of Opava 204 William, Saxon Elector 78 William of Habsburg 67, 68 William (Guillaume) Durand 25, 264, 280, 293 William of Kolín, auxiliary bishop of the Olomouc 271 

William of Ockham 92 William of Plasy 70 Zbygniew Oleśnicki, archbishop of Gniezno 304 Zdeněk Kostka of Postupice 254 Zdeněk Lev of Rožmitál, Supreme Burgrave 27, 28, 227, 232, 248 Zikmund Sláma 328 Žofie, wife of Burian Ledečský of Říčany 231