Life and Religion in the Middle Ages 1443877905, 9781443877909

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Life and Religion in the Middle Ages

Life and Religion in the Middle Ages Edited by

Flocel Sabaté

Life and Religion in the Middle Ages Edited by Flocel Sabaté This book first published 2015 Cambridge Scholars Publishing Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2015 by Flocel Sabaté and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-7790-5 ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-7790-9

TABLE OF CONTENTS

The Religious Experience, a Mirror of Medieval Society .......................... 1 Flocel Sabaté Building an Identity: King Desiderius, the Abbey of Leno (Brescia), and the Relics of St. Benedict (8th Century) .............................................. 15 Maria Chiara Succurro The Bishopric of Urgell in the Second Half of the 11th Century: Jurisdiction, Convenientiae, Simony ......................................................... 34 Jaume Camats Campabadal Peculiarities of the Bishopric of Urgell in the 10th and 11th Centuries ....... 49 Fernando Arnó-García de la Barrera The Ecclesiastical Policy of the Counts of Barcelona in a Conquered Region: The Relationship between the Counts and the Archbishopric of Tarragona in the 12th and 13th Centuries................................................ 67 Toshihiro Abe The Crisis of Power: Otto IV, Kings of León-Castile, the Cistercian Order........................................................................................................ 103 Francesco Renzi A Crusader without a Sword: The Sources relating to the Blessed Gerard ...................................................................................................... 125 Giuseppe Perta The Military Orders in Latium ................................................................ 140 Nadia Bagnarini Saint Louis and Llull’s “Plan” for the Crusade in the Western Mediterranean: modo bellandi et modo convertendi ............................... 163 José Higuera Rubio

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An Episcopal Monastery in Florence from the 11th to the Early 13th Century: San Miniato al Monte ............................................................... 184 Maria Pia Contessa Religious Orders and Cities in Medieval Tuscany (10th to 14th Centuries) ................................................................................................ 202 Francesco Salvestrini Female Monasteries in Venice: Religious Dynamics and Political Power ....................................................................................................... 219 Silvia Carraro and Anna Rapetti The Cathedral Chapter of Barcelona and the Urban Elites at the End of the 15th Century ................................................................................... 234 Julia Conesa Soriano Compline and its Processions in the Context of Castilian Dominican Nunneries................................................................................................. 246 Mercedes Pérez Devotion and Evangelisation in two Fresco Cycles in the Franciscan Convent of La Verna at the Turn of the 15th Century .............................. 278 Nicoletta Baldini Women’s Standing in Society and the Family as seen in an Example of Late-Gothic Secular Sculpture ............................................................ 293 Antònia Juan Crying Tears, Tearing Clothes: Expressing Grief and Rage in the Middle Ages .................................................................................. 305 Ana del Campo John Hunyadi and the Late Crusade ........................................................ 327 Andrei Pogăciaú War and Peace between the Crown of Castile and Granada: Duality or Interconnectedness?................................................................ 335 Yuga Kuroda Les enjeux du Libro Verde de Aragón ..................................................... 363 Monique Combescure

THE RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE, A MIRROR OF MEDIEVAL SOCIETY FLOCEL SABATÉ UNIVERSITAT DE LLEIDA

When looking for insight into the values with which Middle Age men and women regarded their surroundings, we realise that Christianity, with its capacity to be interpreted through various philosophic prisms and its adaptability to social and economic evolution, has furnished values for constructing the ideology with which to create a cohesive memory of medieval identity.

1. The ideas that structure each society El laïcisme o ateisme modern, i la moda d’interpretar els fenòmens socials únicament a partir de les dades econòmiques, acaben impedint la comprensió dels fets històrics més clars. This was written in 1990 by a Catalan historian in an attempt to explain the anti-Jewish violence by Christians in 14th century Europe. He expressed this not from his own particular beliefs, which could just as well have been secular, atheist or otherwise akin to the prejudices he criticised.1 Rather similarly, in 1931, Leonard Woolf, seeking a communal sense of being human after having suffered through the Great War, described as “a catastrophe and landmark in history”, concluded that understanding any behaviour meant seeking an explanation for it in the human mind: “as an event in human history, the war was caused by human psychology”.2 The understanding of human behaviour and reality thus leads inside the mind: “Psychology is nearer to 1

“Modern secularism or atheism and the fashion to interpret social phenomena solely from economic data, eventually impeding understanding of the clearest historical events” (Jaume Riera, “Els avalots del 1391 a Girona”, Jornades d’Història dels Jueus a Catalunya (Girona: Ajuntament de Girona, 1990), p. 122). 2 Leonard Woolf, After the deluge. A Study of Communal Psychology (Harmondsworth: Penguin books, 1937), p. 27.

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what actually exists”, as Bertrand Russell concluded.3 Thus, inside the mind, there is nothing other than ideas, held individually and shared collectively. In consequence, we can summarise that las ideas son el azote y la esperanza de los pueblos.4 It is ideas that have moved society throughout history, in one sense or another. As Leonard Guelke warned, “the motor of historical change is not the environment, the economy or any other force, but human reason. Ideas have the unique capacity of logical development and humans have changed their forms of life and relationships to the environment in an orderly and logical way”.5 Ideas refer, in short, to the human spirit. C’est l’esprit, en effet, qui suscita les faits, qui en a contenu la décision et dirigé le développement.6 However, the spirit must hold on to a tangible reality. In other words, the spirit in itself will vivify the material in one sense or another, because thought only acquires sense if it embodies the physical reality. As Lyotard warned, el pensamiento y la palabra solamente pueden ser verdaderos si la realidad viene al pensamiento, si el mundo viene a la palabra.7 In truth, it is reality that moves towards the thought, in the sense that, through specific values, it imposes a certain way of perceiving and interpreting the material surroundings and the experience of historic events. For example, sometimes one hears talk of educating in values,8 a mistaken expression, because we are always educated with values and communicate these. Whether these are the ones desired by the speaker or their opponents is another matter, but nonetheless values always arise from a specific code of 3 Bertrand Russell, The analysis of mind (London and New York: George Allen & Unwin Ltd. and The Macmillan Company, 1949), p. 308. 4 “Ideas are the scourge and the hope of the people” (Peter H. Waldeck, Ideas. El espíritu del hombre mueve el mundo (Barcelona: Círculo de Lectores, 1976), p. 192). 5 Leonard Guelke, “Forms of life, history, and mind: an idealist proposal for integrating perception and behaviour in human geography”, The behavioural environment. Essays in Reflection, Application and Re-evaluation, ed. by Frederick W. Boal and David N. Livingstone (London and New York: Routledge, 1980), pp. 305-306. 6 “It is the mind, indeed, which gave rise to the facts contained in the decision and directed the development” (Gaston Roupnel, Histoire et destin (Paris: Éditions Bernard Grasset, 1943), p. 231). 7 “The thought and the word can only be true if reality comes to the thought, if the world comes to the word” (Jean François Lyotard, ¿Por qué filosofar? (Barcelona: Ediciones Altaya, 1994), p. 156). 8 Abilio de Gregorio, Javier Elzo, Pilar Ferreirós, Pío Laghi and Ramón Pérez Juste, La educación en valores (Madrid: Consejo General de la Educación Católica-PPC, 1997).

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understanding reality and one’s surroundings. What is needed then is to grasp each society’s values. It is worth presenting an extreme example: in the winter of 1942-1943, with their British hosts, the governments in exile in London created a “Conference of Allied Ministers of Education”. A History Committee was established whose purpose was to ensure “the publication of a history of European civilization, to be called ‘The European Inheritance’”.9 In the midst of the war, they glimpsed that the guarantee for setting the ground lines for Europe to coexist with itself were not to be found in diplomatic agreements based on national interests. Rather, these were to be found in researching, through objective historians, the values that had forged the identity traits of the different European countries and the conditions that had encouraged or destroyed peaceful coexistence. In short, the historian’s challenge consists of using an objective spirit to penetrate the values that enlightened the epoch under study, this being the only way to grasp how the events and human surroundings were interpreted. In other words, in our case, how they gave medieval Europe its conscience et identité.10 This is no new challenge for medieval historiography. To a great extent, John Osborn Taylor raised the same question at the start of the 20th century when delving into “the Mediaeval Mind”, understood as “a history of the development of thought and emotion in the Middle Ages”, with specific attention to the evolution and balance between “the ideal and the actual” in the medieval centuries.11 The most widely translated and republished work by Huizinga, written a decade later, had greater repercussions in the same sense.12 These books, together with later authors, attempted to penetrate the medieval mentality.13 They were aware that, in delving into this period and its ample chronology, the cognition which explained the human surroundings14 or 9

Ernest Barker, George Clark and P. Vaucher, The European Inheritance (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1954), I, p. 5. 10 Aleksander Gieysztor, “Conscience et identité occidentales”, Les Européens, ed. by Hélène Ahrweiller and Maurice Aymard (Paris: Hermann Éditeur des Sciences et des Arts, 2000), pp. 173-178. 11 Henry Osborn Taylor, The Mediaeval Mind. A history of the development of thought and emotion in the middle ages, 2 vols. (London: Macmillan and co., 1911). 12 Johan Huizinga, El otoño de la Edad Media (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 1978) (first edition in Dutch: 1923). 13 Notable amongst recent contributions is: Hervé Martin, Mentalités Médiévales, 2 vols. (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1996-2001). 14 Charles M. Radding, A World Made by Men. Cognition and Society, 400-1200 (Chapel Hill and London: The University of North Carolina Press, 1985).

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the reasons that structured society,15 emphasises the weight exerted by religion on a wide range of aspects. Christianity, in its dictate and experience, thus became the catalyser and prism for understanding the setting and justification of the social order in the Middle Ages.

2. Religion in the Middle Ages: the prism for the worldview and the social order Over recent centuries, the need to consider the predominant Christian religion in order to understand the Middle Ages has been repeated frequently, but generally from deductive postures in one sense or another. In the 18th century, Voltaire linked almost all the events of the medieval period with the effects of Christianity. After asking himself about the success of monasticism, he linked it to the reasoning relating to the omnipresence of Christianity in the Middle Ages: Le gouvernement fut presque par-tout détestable, et absurde depuis Constantin: parce que l’Empire Romain eut plus de moines que de soldats; parce qu’il y en avait cent mille dans la seule Egypte, parce qu’ls étaient exempts de travail et de taxe; parce que les Chefs des nations barbares qui détruisirent l’Empire s’etant faite Chrétiens pour governeur des Chrétiens, exercèrent la plus horrible tyrannie, parce qu’on se jettait en foule dans les cloîtres pour échaper aux fureur de ces Tyrans, et qu’on se plongeait dans un esclavage pour en éviter un autre; parce que les Papes, en instituant tant d’ordres différens de fainéants sacrés, se firent autant de sujets dans les autres états; parce qu’un paysan aime mieux être appellé mon Réverénd père et donner des bénédictions que de conduir la charue.16

15

Alexander Murray, Reason and Society in the Middle Ages (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978). 16 “The government was hateful and absurd almost in everywhere since Constantine, because the Roman Empire had more monks than soldiers (there were one hundred thousand just in Egypt); because they were exempt from labor and tax; because the heads of the barbarous nations which destroyed the empire became Christians in order to rule the Christians and exerted the most horrible tyranny, reason why the crowd moved to the cloisters, in order to avoid the fury of these tyrants and that they plunged into slavery to avoid another; because the Popes, by instituting so many different orders of sacred lazy, earned more subjects than the other social states; because any peasant would rather be called reverend father and give blessings than ride the plow” (Voltaire, L’homme aux quarnte écus (Geneva: without Publisher, 1768), pp. 55-56).

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In a diametrically opposite sense, several decades later, Chateaubriand attributed chivalry, idealised as the most poetic moment in history, to Christianity: The only poetical period of our history, the age of chivalry, likewise belongs to it: the true religion possesses the singular merit of having created among us the age of fiction and enchantment.17

The triumph of the bourgeoisie and the maintenance of the Church in the 19th century led to a view of the Middle Ages based on the positive aspects of the urban elites struggling for progress, freedom and culture, and the softening of customs to the Church, both opposed to the nobles, who were identified with oppression and the old regime.18 Thus, it is not difficult to find passionate eulogies of the medieval Church among certain authors in the early 20th century: Face à la menace asiatique, elle fut, pendant toute l’époque des Croisades (et jusqu’à la bataille de Lépante) la conscience même de l’Europe. Dans la paix de ses cloîtres, la grande philosophie reparut. De nouveau la raison humaine se confronta avec l’univers. Si saint Thomas d’Aquin domine son siècle, -et le nôtre,- ce n’est pas seulement, Maritain nous l’a ardemment rappelé, pour avoir opéré la synthèse des connaissances de son temps, baptisé Aristote, indissolublement uni la raison et la foi, c’est aussi pour avoir, à la différence de tant de penseurs modernes, eu foi en la raison en posant, préalablement à toute recherche, la valeur universelle, la portée cosmique des lois de l’esprit, affirmation en dehors de laquelle il n’y a que néant, A cet envoi métaphysique correspond l’élan des cathédrales.19

17

F. A. de Chateaubriand, The beauties of Christianity (London: Henry Celburn, 1813), III, p. 156. 18 Josep Maria Torras i Bages, La tradición catalana (Barcelona: Selecta, 1966), pp. 140-142. 19 “The own consciousness of Europe faced the Asian threat, during the Crusades’ period and until the Battle of Lepanto. The great philosophy reappeared in the peace of its cloisters. Human reason confronted again with the universe. If Saint Thomas Aquinas dominates his century - and our time - this is, according what Maritain eagerly recalled, not only for having reach the synthesis of the knowledge of his time, baptised Aristotle and united indissolubly reason and faith, but because in contrast to so many modern thinkers, he had faith in the reason and, before any research, he starts knowing the universal value, and the cosmic scope of the laws of the spirit. Outside of this, there is only nothingness. This is the metaphysical place for the spirit of the cathedrals” (René Grousset, Bilan de l’histoire (Paris: Librairie Plon, 1946), p. 35).

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One way or another, these ardent evocations, presented here as examples, find the Middle Ages steeped in religion and echo this according to the posture of the author. However, this cannot be the basis for research. If our purpose is to know what medieval society was like, religion and all its setting, both conceptual and institutional, must be analysed together with its role in medieval society. Then its contribution will be appreciated in three linked facets: spreading the dominant ideology, building a certain memory applied to society, and the collective acceptance of a specific identity. The link between ideology, memory and identity becomes a programme for interpreting the Middle Ages and clearly ties in with the role of the Church and Christianity in this period. Firstly, the Church was responsible for promoting a worldview that placed medieval men and women at the centre of a world. This was accepted and explained coherently and confidently. Physical explanations, clearly separated from the religious, were given thanks to the incorporation of Aristotelian ideas in the 13th century. However, the complementarity turns reason and faith into two aspects of the same understanding of reality.20 Thus, the highest elements of the faith can equally be attained through reason: five rational arguments conclude the existence of God, and the high point of late-medieval Christian existence, the presence of God in the Eucharist, is reached through a simple physical formula, because trans-substantiation would be nothing other than the maintenance of the form and the alteration of the material, in accordance with Aristotelian physics.21 Similarly, the supernatural places, heaven and hell, fully match the physical descriptions of the composition of the atmosphere and the inside of the earth.22 This even includes purgatory, where one repents temporarily for lesser sins, with an entrance on Station Island in Lough Derg, Republic of Ireland and another on the Sicilian volcano, Mount Etna.23 This match is easily explicable, given that nature and religion both derive from the same divine scheme. Coherently, unravelling the meaning of the world is the gradual way to advance our knowledge of the rules laid down by God.

20

Flocel Sabaté, L’Edat Mitjana. Món real i espai imaginat (Barcelona: Editorial Afers, 2012), pp. 42-47. 21 Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologia, p. I, c. 2 and p. III c. 73-38 (Tomás de Aquino, Suma de Teología, I, p. 111-113 and V, p. 637-699). 22 Flocel Sabaté, Vivir y sentir en la Edad Media. El mundo visto con ojos medievales (Madrid: Anaya, 2011), pp. 25-36. 23 Jacques Le Goff, El nacimiento del Purgatorio (Madrid: Taurus Ediciones, 1981), pp. 205-239.

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Knowledge of God’s scheme of things would also be the best way to address coexistence. Significantly, the model for explaining a society that has to be structured around a feudal tri-functional order arose within the Church.24 The theoretical justification for a Christian market society arose from the same origins some centuries later and in the late-medieval urban setting.25 This required the Church to be able to adapt to the different socioeconomic stimuli. There was a clear evolution in the acceptance of wealth. Thus, at the end of the 12th century in Lleida, it was said that the devil entered the city disguised as a merchant.26 Later, in the 13th century, the writer Ramon Llull presented the idealised biography of Evast, a merchant at the end of his life, who, after bringing up his son, understands that the best course of action would be to donate his goods to the poor and adopt the religious life.27 However, at the same time, in Paris, it was being said that the Church was set up by merchants and that the knights had need of these.28 Finally, in the 14th century, Francesc Eiximenis, the most influential moralist in the Crown of Aragon at that time, explained that merchants were essential for all the elements that made up society and, coherently, nostre Senyor Déu los fa misericòrdia especial, en mort e en vida, per lo gran profit que fan a la cosa pública e per los grans treballs que sofiren en mar e en terra.29 Morals were adapted to new realities, and the deadly sins adopted social characteristics: moving away from the early medieval cloister, in the late Middle Ages, avarice was linked to

24 Georges Duby, Los tres órdenes o lo imaginario del feudalismo (Barcelona: Argot, 1978), pp. 239-369. 25 Giacomo Todeschini, Richesse Franciscaine. De la pauvreté volontaire à la société de marché (Lagrasse: Éditions Verdier, 2004). 26 Antoni Maria Parramon, Miracles de la Verge Maria (Lleida: Instituto de Estudios Ilerdenses, 1976), p. 42. 27 Ramon Llull, Llibre d’Evast e Blanquerna (Barcelona: Edicions 62 and La Caixa, 1982), pp. 31-32. 28 Sainte Yglise premierement / Fu par Marchéanz establie / Et sachiez que Chevalerie / Doivent Marchéanz tenir chiers / Qu’il amainent les bons destriers (Anatole de Montaiglon and Gaston Raynaud, Recueil Général et complet des fabliaux des XIIIe et XIVe siècles imprimés ou inédites (Paris: Librairie des Bibliophiles, 1877), II, p. 44). 29 “Our Lord God have special mercy on them, who in death and in life, for the great profit that they give to the public thing and for the great works they suffer on the sea and on land”. Francesc Eiximenis, Dotzè del Crestià, chap. 389 (Francesc Eiximenis, Lo Crestià (Barcelona: Edicions 62 and La Caixa, 1983), pp. 223-224).

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speculation on the prices of goods, and sloth was defined as a sin against society as laziness at work.30 Faced with these changes, the Church offered to elucidate doubts about the correct interpretation. Its position was favoured by its monopoly on intercession with divinity. This meant great power, especially among the population because: ela a poder que us tola e ha poder que us don / e poder que us defenda e poder que us perdon31 Thus, the Church guaranteed the worldview, supported the social order and directly influenced the values and fears that guided every-day existence.

3. Religion, coexistence and otherness The fact that Christianity is based on books of holy wisdom implies a need for a proper philosophical framework to interpret these. Thus, the progressive weight of stoicism,32 neo-Platonism33 and Aristotelianism34 fashioned the image of medieval Christianity at the start of the Middle Ages, the Early Middle Ages and the Late Middle Ages respectively. The transitions were highly significant. Thus, the divide between spiritualists and realists at the end of the 13th century and start of the 14th clearly shows two orientations rooted in philosophical postures. Olivi makes this clear when clinging to a visionary and spiritual Christianity, instead of accepting the influence of a pagan like Aristotle, which he was convincingly opposed to.35 In reality, the strengthening of Aristotelian realism contributed to a reinforcement of the confidence that the Church was acquiring through the so-called Gregorian reform at the end of the 11th and beginning of the 12th centuries. Thus, the coexistence between Muslims and Christians that had 30

Carla Casagrande and Silvana Vecchio, Histoire des péchés capitaux au Moyen Âge (Paris: Flamarion, 2003), pp. 148-151. 31 Elle seule a pouvoir de dispenser le bien, / de défendre ses fils, de pardonner les fautes (La chanson de la croisade albigeoise [Paris: Les Belles Lettres and Librairie Générale Française, 1989], p. 458). 32 J. A. Martínez, “Logos estoico y ‘Verbum’ Cristiano (Apuntes para una historia de la Razón)”, Anales del Seminario de Metafísica, 25 (1991), pp. 115-116. 33 Alfons Puigarnau, “El rastre del neoplatonisme al romànic català. L’ideal de bellesa”, Butlletí del Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya, 7 (2003), pp. 13-23. 34 Eudaldo Forment, “La integración de la ética aristotélica en la síntesis escolàstica”, Actas del II Congreso Nacional de Filosofía Medieval, coord. by Jorge M. Ayala (Saragossa: Sociedad de Filosofía Medieval, 1996), pp. 37-49. 35 François-Xavier Putallaz, Insolente liberté. Controverses et condamnations au XIIIe siècle (Fribourg and Paris: Éditions Universitaires Fribourg and Éditions du Cerf, 1995), pp. 127-135.

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characterised the 11th century in the Iberian Peninsula, with the northern Christian kingdoms and counties maintaining diplomatic and political links with the neighbouring Muslim taifes, broke down under the new dictates of the reformed Church.36 In the progressive demonisation of the adversary, the explicit aim of the struggle was to fight the infidel.37 This was a religious, and even spiritual, assumption of armed combat,38 and was reflected at the outer geographic limits of Christianity, where religion, otherness, feudalism and frontier mixed.39 The same treatment given to the infidel should be meted out to the heretic. This was emphasised in the second half of the 12th century, a time of tension caused by the spread of the Cathars in Occitania, thus focusing on social groups inassimilable for the official Christianity.40 At the same time, Christianity was adapting to the new intellectual stimuli inherent in the contemporary economic and urban growth,41 just when a wider vision of the role of humans and their social structure was being sought.42 In this context, the predominant introduction of realist thought, instead of neo-platonic idealism, avoided the dichotomy between the flesh and the spirit that had presided over early medieval Christianity and established a relation with the world from a teleological perspective. Moving away from the earlier mistrust, Christianity now understood that everything in Creation was good, whether these be expressions of the flesh or any element of Creation, as long as they were used appropriately regarding the purpose for which God had created them. Knowledge of divine will, derived from the study of the Christian message as transmitted 36

Flocel Sabaté, “Frontera peninsular e identidad (siglos IX-XII)”, Las Cinco Villas aragonesas en la Europa de los siglos XII y XIII. De la frontera natural a las fronteras políticas y socioeconómicas, coord. by Esteban Sarasa (Saragossa: Institución Fernando el Católico, 2007), pp. 79-85. 37 Jean Flori, Croisade et chevalerie. XIe-XIIe (Paris and Brussells: De Boeck, 1998), pp. 81-213. 38 Katherine Allen Smith, War and the Making of Medieval Monastic Culture (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2011), pp. 39-111. 39 Flocel Sabaté, “La frontière catalane (s. X-XII): perception, alterité, pouvoir et mémoire”, Limites et frontières de l’Antiquité au Moyen Âge. Ériger et borner diocéses et principautés , ed. by Nacima Baron-Yelles, Stéphane Boissellier, François Clement, Flocel Sabaté (Lille: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion, forthcoming). 40 Michel Roquebert, Histoire des Cathares. Hérésie, Croisade, Inquisition du XIe au XIVe siècle (Paris: Perrin, 1999), pp. 62-66. 41 Alexander Murray, Reason and Society in the Middle Ages (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978), pp. 188-315. 42 Radding, A World Made by Men. Cognition and Society, 400-1200, pp. 153-262.

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by the Church, generated confidence in all of Creation. The other inherent and logical side of this same security was the growth of intolerance towards everything that went against the divine will. Sexuality, for example, was now interpreted as good if it fulfilled the purpose for which God had created it, namely procreation. In contrast, it was abominable when it went against this purpose, as was the case of male homosexuality, which thus came to merit the worst and most ignominious of punishments.43 In fact, if one knew what annoyed God, this should be avoided, precisely to escape the expressions of his wrath. The succession of bad harvests and natural adversities during the 14th century were interpreted as a clear display of divine wrath. So, once these had occurred, action was taken, so que Déus per la sua mercè nos vuylle aquesta mal temps levar. The causes attributed to the punishment meted out by God tended to be similar: sometimes “per jurar inhonestament de Déu sia provocada la ira de Déu”, as was argued in Cervera after the town had suffered an earthquake in 1373;44 others because alcunes fembres casades fan adulteri ab homens casats et altres que són sens marit ab homens casats et altres que an marit ab omens que han muller oc encara que clergues se jagüen ab fembres casades (...) e per tals pecats a consentir vinguen pertelençies en la vila e notre Senyor déu priva pluja e bon temps,45 as the local council of Elche announced in 1379. Mendicant preachers, many of them wandering, helped to identify the reasons for divine wrath. In Cervera in 1420, a Dominican insisted upon the dangers that the town was risking due to the excess of blasphemy, gambling and tolerance of the Jews. After his message spread, the town council stated that, lo reverent ffrare preycador en los lurs sermons tots jorns 43

Flocel Sabaté, “La sexualitat a l’època medieval”, Sexualitat, història i antropologia, ed. by Xavier Roigé (Lleida: Edicions de la Universitat de Lleida, 1996), pp. 51-53. 44 “That God in his mercy save us from this bad weather”; “for swearing dishonestly on God has provoked the wrath of God” (Carme Olivera, Antoni Riera, Jérôme Lambert, Enric Banda and Pierre Alexandre, Els terratrèmols de l’any 1373 al Pirineu: efectes a Espanya i França (Barcelona: Generalitat de Catalunya, 1994), p. 64). 45 “Some married females commit adultery with married men and others that are without husbands with married men and others who have husband with men who have wives or even that clergymen lie with married women (...) and for these sins being consented to pestilences are visited on the town and our Lord god denies rain and good weather” (Pedro Ibarra, “Elig. Noticia de algunas instituciones y costumbres de la Edad Media”, III Congreso de Historia de la Corona de Aragón (Valencia: Excelentísima Diputación Provincial and Excelentísimo Ayuntamiento de Valencia, 1928), p. 39).

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continuants los es donat gran càrrech axí a ells com encara al molt honorable mossèn lo batlle dels greus peccats e abominacions qui·s fan continuament en aquesta vila.46 Thus, if these individual sins could unleash divine wrath over society as a whole, the authorities should act to curtail them. The influential preacher Vicent Ferrer warned precisely that the municipal authorities were doubly at risk before God, for endangering themselves and the town they ran, per què són alguns que han a retre compte de si matex e de altres, axí com regidors de viles, e açò contra sis coses o peccats que y han a provehir, e si no, vindrà la ira de Déu sobre ells e encara sober la vila que·u sosté.47 The same preacher warned that the Christians no havem major enemichs (...) que.ls juheus o moros.48 This is the perception of danger with which the inassimilable otherness was regarded. This religious atmosphere could not fail to have a direct influence on popular attitudes and, very importantly, the municipal by laws that limited the activities and even the visibility of the inassimilable minorities, especially the Jews living in towns and cities that were, by definition, Christian.49 Jews everywhere were forced to live under worsening conditions, ever more restricted and marginalised socially and health-wise. This process culminated with their expulsion from various European territories at different times.50 In fact, if the unity of society was to be achieved 46

“The reverent friar preacher is, every day in his sermons, telling [the council] and the very honourable bailiff about the serious sins and abominations that continually take place in this town” (Agustí Duran, “Referències documentals del call de juhéus de Cervera”, Discursos llegits en la “Real Academia de Buenas Letras” de Barcelona en la recepción pública de D. Agustí Duran y Sanpere el 20 d’abril de 1924 (Barcelona: Imprenta Atles Geográfico, 1924), p. 57). 47 “Because some have to give account of themselves and others, like the councillors of the towns, and for the six things or sins that they have to take care of, and if not, God’s wrath will fall on them and also on the town where they govern” (Vicent Ferrer, Sermons, ed. by Gret Schib (Barcelona: Editorial Barcino, 1975), III, p. 13). 48 “We have no greater enemies (...) than those Jews or Moors” (Ferrer, Sermons, III, p. 14). 49 Flocel Sabaté, “L’ordenament municipal de la relació amb els jueus a la Catalunya baixmedieval”, Cristianos y judíos en contacto en la Edad Media. Polémica, conversión, dinero y convivencia, ed. by Flocel Sabaté and Claude Denjean (Lleida: Editorial Milenio, 2009), pp. 733-804. 50 Flocel Sabaté, “L’espace des minorités ethniques et religieuses: les Juifs dans les villes catalanes au Bas Moyen Âge”, Morphologie et identité sociale dans la ville médiévale hispanique, ed. by Flocel Sabaté and Christian Guilleré (Chambéry: Université de Savoie, 2012), pp. 231-286.

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following the Christian dictate under the fear of God, the Jews were the best example of a minority that was not only inassimilable but also even an enemy of God, who they had attempted to murder with the crucifixion of Christ, an accusation the Christians often used as an insult against the Jewish population.51 The evangelic mandate was that the world at the end of time should be one single flock. Thus, the inability to bring the inassimilable minorities closer could become a serious breach of this divine mandate. This was believed especially as there were many events interpreted as heralding the approach of the end of time, as was increasingly spread through the Joachimite ideas which continued to extend from the end of the 12th century.52 Thus, the 13th century was a time of attempts to convert the socalled infidels.53 However, given the duty to unify the faith within a relatively short time span, the question should be considered as Roger Bacon formulated it: it is possible to envisage the return of the Greek Church, the conversion of the Tartars, but there may be some, like the Muslims, who do not agree with conversion, thus leaving no other option than their destruction.54 Accordingly, if the enemies of the faith could not be assimilated, they had to be marginalised and destroyed to enable society to reach the end of time united.55 The unifying of society under the Christian dictate, jointly with the fear of an anthropomorphised God, led to an inability to tolerate inassimilable minorities and an increasingly Redemptorist religious experience. This had to facilitate personal conversions towards more rigorist customs and a reform of ecclesiastical practices and attitudes, all tinged with anxiety provoked by the conviction that the end of time was nigh.56 These stimuli 51

Flocel Sabaté, “Les juifs au moyen-âge. Les sources catalanes concernant l’ordre et le désordre”, Chrétiens et juifs au Moyen Âge: sources pour la recherche d’une relation permanente, ed. by Flocel Sabaté and Claude Denjean (Lleida: Editorial Milenio, 2006), pp. 124-136. 52 Gian Luca Potestà, El tiempo del Apocalipsis. Vida de Joaquín de Fiore (Madrid: Editorial Trotta, 2010). 53 Jacques Le Goff, Lo maravilloso y lo cotidiano en el Occidente medieval (Barcelona: Editorial Gedisa, 1985), p. 127. 54 Marjorie Reeves, The Influence of Prophecy in the Late Middle Ages. A Study in Joachimism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969), p. 399. 55 Aleksey Klemeshov, “The Conversion and Destruction of the Infidels in the Works of Roger Bacon”, Religions and Power in Europe. Conflicts and Convergence (Pisa: Plus and Pisa University Press, 2007), p. 23. 56 Claude Carozi, Visiones apocalípticas en la Edad Media. El fin del mundo y la salvación del alma (Madrid: Siglo Veintiuno de España Editores, 2000), pp. 154177.

Flocel Sabaté

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led to a search for new horizons under the fear that the end of time was approaching, with all that it meant being widely announced around the Antichrist.57 It is understandable, then, that at the end of the 15th century and beginning the 16th, the fear of the end of the world and the discovery of the New World merged into the religious attitude that was taking shape on the new continent, in an agonic and contradictory dynamic that lasted until 1585,58 just when the religious tensions in Europe hatched a new reality.

4. Our selection In an attempt to find new contributions to medieval research that tackle various aspects aimed at approaching medieval society from the perspective of life and religion, the 2011 and 2012 meetings of the “International Medieval Meetings Lleida” facilitated a coming together of researchers who had dealt with various aspects of research in this sense, thus allowing them to obtain interesting transversalities. The challenge has been to attempt to construct an explicative discourse through combining reflections on different aspects of the binomial of religion and life in the Middle Ages. It is therefore necessary to research into the formation of the elements of religiosity and piety that build religious identity, as Maria Chiara Succurro does with research into the abbey of Leno (Brescia) in the Early Middle Ages. Then there is the question of how territory and society fit together through the ways in which the diocese put down social roots, as Jaume Camats studies in the case of the bishopric of Urgell in the 10th and 12th centuries. This articulation acquired specific traits in lands on the frontier, which Ferran Arnó analyses in the case of the Urgell. This also requires a specific relation with political power, as Toshihiro Abe Salam shows through the relation between the counts of Barcelona and the archbishops of Tarragona in organising new lands seized on the frontier with Islam. Frontier, reform of the Church and political power configure a crossroads where we find the Cistercians, as Francesco Renzi proposes, in a comparison between the Empire and the kingdoms of Leon and Castile. The monastic renewal in a context of tension with religious and cultural otherness and promotion of the nobility, requires mention of the military orders, not so much for their activities in the Holy Land, but rather for their acceptance and perception in the West, either in specific cases, like Giuseppe Perta’s study 57

José Guadalajara, Las profecías del Anticristio en la Edad Media (Madrid: Gredos, 1996), pp. 93-399. 58 Flocel Sabaté, Fin del Mundo y Nuevo Mundo (Mexico: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia, 2011).

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of the Hospitallers, or their explicit deployment around Rome, in Lazio, as analysed by Nadia Bagnarini. In any case, the Church’s relation with otherness, given its assumption of the duty to impose the faith, leads to the contrast between a modo bellandi and a modo convertendi, which centred the debate in the 13th century, as José Higuera Rubio analyses from the plans for crusade drawn up by Louis IX of France and Ramon Llull. Meanwhile, the ecclesiastical institutions had to prolong their existence, in other words, their adaptation to the new stimuli, as Maria Pia Contessa studies with the evolution of the Florentine monastery of San Miniato al Monte between the 11th and 13th centuries. In fact, urban development meant a specific relation with the religious orders, as Francesco Salvestrini has studied in the case of Tuscany. This requires analysing both the relations between nunneries and political power, as Silvia Carraro and Anna Rapetti have done in the case of Venice, and also specifically delving into the relation between urban elites and the religious leaders, as studied by Julia Conesa Soriano for the elite in Barcelona, and this and the city’s cathedral chapter. Liturgy assumes the internal and external connection between clergy, community and beliefs, so its evolution should be studied, as Mercedes Pérez does around the Dominican nunneries. The leading function of the decoration of the temples as a display of wealth and to transmit the message of the religion requires an analysis of the roles of both the artist and patronage, appreciating the evangelising function of the frescos painted in the Franciscan convent of La Verna, according to the work of Nicoletta Baldini. In reality, the actual impact of religion on the population can be seen by comparing the ideal and the reality in such cases as the model of women, which Antònia Juan studies, or the people’s experience of such important events as death, analysed by Ana del Campo. At the end of the Middle Ages, this Christianity that had become so deeply rooted in western society continued to face the challenge of its relation with otherness. This was found in all its crudeness on the borders, either to the east, where Johan Hunyadi had to face the last crusade, as Andrei Pogăciaú studies, or in the evolution of relations between the kingdoms of Castile and Granada in the Iberian Peninsula, as Yuga Kuroda shows. Finally, the social cohesion earned throughout the religion became an arm in the hands of political power, which could discriminate invoking filthy roots, so not pure Christian blood, as shows Monique Combesbure around the uses, during 16th and 17th centuries, of a specific Aragonese book. We believe sincerely that the innovative contents in each of these works justify the respective quality. However, there is no doubt that, putting them together gives us a clear understanding of the key links between religion and life in the European Middle Ages and how this evolved.

BUILDING AN IDENTITY: KING DESIDERIUS, THE ABBEY OF LENO (BRESCIA), AND THE RELICS TH OF ST. BENEDICT (8 CENTURY)1 MARIA CHIARA SUCCURRO UNIVERSITÀ DEGLI STUDI DI FIRENZE

1. The foundation of the Abbey 1. 1. Preliminary remarks The Abbey of Leno was founded by Desiderius, the last king of the Lombards, in the year 758. The account of this foundation can be read in a Catalogue of Lombard and Frankish kings written in the late ninth century: Anno dominicae incarnationis 758, indictione 11. ceptum est monasterio domini Salvatoris locus qui dicitur Leones a prefato gloriosissimus Desiderius rex; sed et ecclesia ad honorem domini Salvatoris et beatae semper virginis Mariae et beati archangeli Michaelis aedificata est ab ipso praefatus rex, antequam regnum cepisset. Non longe post introitum regni et inchoationem huius coenobii, Domino cooperante et praenominato excellentissimo rege, translatum est a civitate Beneventum de Cassino castro quaedam corporis partem beatissimi atque excellentissimi confessoris Benedicti abbatis, et ab urbe Roma corpora beatorum martyrum Vitalis et Martialis, et in eodem sacrosanctum conditum est coenobio. Praefuit autem ipso tempore in ipso coenobio, hoc est Leone, Ermoald abbas, quod ipse praefatus rex ex Beneventum monasterio secum adduxit seu et alii 11; ex quibus unum nomine Lampertum p(rae)p(ositum) constituit; Domino auxiliante usque ad perfectum ductum est.2

1

Abbreviations used: AD, Archivio Diplomatico; ASB, Archivio di Stato di Brescia; ASC, Archivio Storico Civico; ASM, Archivio di Stato di Milano; PF, Pergamene per Fondi. 2 “Catalogi regum Langobardorum et Italicorum Brixiensis et Nonantulanus”.

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The locus qui dicitur Leones mentioned in the text is the village of Leno, which lies in the Po Valley near the city of Brescia.3

1. 2. The political project of King Desiderius The decision of King Desiderius to found a monastery at this particular location does not appear fortuitous because it abided by specific criteria. Firstly, there was already an old Lombard settlement in Leno since the first Lombard arrival in Italy, and the Leno area was rich and populous.4 Secondly, shortly before becoming king, Desiderius had built a little church dedicated to the Saviour, the Virgin Mary and the Archangel Michael on the same site, as can be read in the Catalogus regum: sed et ecclesia ad honorem domini Salvatoris et beatae semper virginis Mariae et beati archangeli Michaelis aedificata est ab ipso praefatus rex, antequam regnum cepisset.5 Desiderius owned very large properties in Leno and nearby villages,6 and probably even a regalis domus, according to the later commentator Giacomo Malvezzi.7 Medieval sources on the little church have been Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores rerum Langobardicarum et Italicarum saec. VI-IX, ed. by Georg Waitz (Hannoverae: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1878), pp. 501-503, especially, p. 503; on the foundation of the abbey, see: Mechthild Sandmann, Herrscherverzeichnisse als Geschichtsquellen. Studien zur langobardisch-italienischen Überlieferung (Munich: Fink, 1984), pp. 101-118 and 208-241; on the Catalogue, see: Beniamino Pagnin, “La provenienza del Codice Antoniano 27 E del ‘Chronicon regum langobardorum’ in esso contenuto”, Miscellanea in onore di Roberto Cessi, 3 vols. (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1958), I, pp. 29-42. 3 On this toponym, see: Maria Chiara Succurro, “L’abbazia di San Benedetto di Leno (secoli VIII-XV). Istituzione, relazioni, aspetti patrimoniali” (Florence: University of Florence, PhD Dissertation, 2013), pp. 77-83. 4 Andrea Breda, “Leno: monastero e territorio. Note archeologiche preliminari, L’abbazia di San Benedetto di Leno. Mille anni nel cuore della pianura Padana”, Brixia Sacra. Memorie storiche della Diocesi di Brescia, 7/1-2 (2002), pp. 239254. See also: Pauli Diaconi, Historia Langobardorum, II, p. 32. 5 “Catalogi regum Langobardorum et Italicorum Brixiensis et Nonantulanus”, p. 503. 6 Malvezzi in his Chronicle recalls that Desiderius held broad properties –spatia, et lata pratorum, terrarumque, atque sylvarum– within the territory of Leno and the close territories: Jacobi Malvecii, “Chronicon Brixianum ab origine urbis usque ad annum MCCCXXXII”, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, ed. by Ludovico Antonio Muratori (Milan: A. Forni, 1979), XIV, col. 771-1004, especially, cap. 86, col. 845. 7 Malvecii, “Chronicon Brixianum ab origine urbis usque ad annum MCCCXXXII”, cap. 90, col. 848.

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preserved, but there are no records about the regalis domus before the Chronicon Brixianum written by Malvezzi. Even taking the interpretative uncertainty of this source into account, it appears likely that the Leno area was already largely controlled by Desiderius through possessions and dependencies, and it is also likely that the monastery was built on an area previously occupied by a complex of properties already belonging to the king. From these premises, this location appears to be involved in a strategic plan of the king’s, devised in order to consolidate his power. Desiderius was duke of Tuscany during the kingdom of his predecessor Aistulf (749756) and when the king died hunting in December 756, he tried immediately to seize the throne, the rest of the Lombard aristocracy was strongly opposed, however, and instead supported Ratchis, Aistulf’s brother.8 After troubled months, Desiderius finally became king in March 757.9 In order to strengthen his political and economic position, Desiderius had to exploit a precise strategy in the region of Brescia, where his influence was strong and Adelchi, his son, was elected duke of the city.10 A structured plan to centralise personal power and economic assets emerged in the area, and a part of this strategy was the founding of monasteries. The promotion and control of religious foundations with their assets was an effective instrument of supremacy for the Lombard kings,11 since 8

On the reign of Aistulf and the beginning of the kingdom of Desiderius, see: Paolo Delogu, “Il regno longobardo”, Longobardi e Bizantini, ed. by Paolo Delogu, André Guillou and Gherardo Ortalli (Turin: Utet, 1980), pp. 1-216, especially, pp. 168-180; Jörg Jarnut, Storia dei Longobardi (Turin: Einaudi, 2002), pp. 110-118. 9 The chronology of the takeover of power of Desiderius is confirmed also by the text of the Catalogus regum Langobardorum et Italicorum, p. 503. 10 See: Gian Pietro Brogiolo, “Desiderio e Ansa a Brescia: dalla fondazione del monastero al mito”, Il futuro dei Longobardi. L’Italia e la costruzione dell’Europa di Carlo Magno. Saggi, ed. by Carlo Bertelli and Gian Pietro Brogiolo (Milan: Skira, 2000), pp. 142-155, especially, p. 143. On the relationship between Desiderius and the city of Brescia and his strategy of consolidation of power, see: Claudio Azzara, “Il re e il monastero. Desiderio e la fondazione di Leno, in L’abbazia di San Benedetto di Leno”, pp. 21-32; Angelo Baronio, “Il monastero di San Salvatore/San Benedetto di Leno e le sue pertinenze nel quadro della ‘politica monastica’ di Desiderio”, Tra Pavia e Ravenna. Il territorio e la fascia di confine tra il regno longobardo e l’esarcato bizantino (secoli VI-VIII), ed. by Claudio Azzara (Brescia: Fondazione Civiltà Bresciana, 2010), pp. 57-82. 11 For an introduction to monasteries in Lombard, see: Mayke de Jong and Peter Erhart, “Monachesimo tra i Longobardi e i Carolingi”, Il futuro dei Longobardi. L’Italia e la costruzione dell’Europa di Carlo Magno. Saggi, pp. 105-128; Claudio

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these foundations had an important role in strategic control, due to their geographic position, near the borders of the kingdom or in other key areas, where economic, political and cultural penetration could be exercised. Through generous donations of goods, Lombard elites were also able to concentrate and manage wealth in these monasteries, even if it was by the veiled practice of channelling some of that wealth through family members.12 In this context the foundation of Leno does not appear as an isolated event in the religious history of the Lombards: Desiderius promoted the development of San Salvatore/Santa Giulia, the major monastery in the city of Brescia, through the donation of goods drawn from personal possessions and even from the royal treasury.13 As part of the same project, he founded the abbey of Leno, which was established shortly after his seizure of power. King Desiderius made large donations to his new monastery. An examination of the territorial possessions of the abbey donated by the king shows that behind these donations there was a precise plan of land management aimed at the control of roads, population and resources through a system of strategically placed dependencies.14 This plan of reorganization and control of the countryside involved both the abbeys of Azzara, “Ecclesiastical institutions”, Italy in the early Middle Ages, ed. by Cristina la Rocca (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), pp. 85-101, especially, pp. 94-99. On the monasteries founded during the kingdom of Desiderius, see: Delogu, “Il regno longobardo”, pp. 182-183; Jarnut, Storia dei Longobardi, p. 120; Karl Voigt, Die königlichen Eigenklöster im Langobardenreiche (Aalen: Scientia Verlag, 1969), p. 20. 12 On the strategies for management of family assets and the power of Lombard kinship, see: Cristina la Rocca, “La legge e la pratica. Potere e rapporti sociali nell’Italia dell’VIII secolo”, Il futuro dei Longobardi. L’Italia e la costruzione dell’Europa di Carlo Magno. Saggi, pp. 45-69, especially, pp. 54-55; Claudio Azzara, “La normativa sui monasteri e sui loro patrimoni nell’Italia longobardocarolingia”, Le scritture dai monasteri, ed. by Flavia de Rubeis and Walter Pohl (Rome: Institutum Romanum Finlandiae, 2003), pp. 67-73. 13 The character of this institution was that of a family monastery, protected directly by the king, and it is not a coincidence that a daughter of the monarch, Anselperga, was appointed as abbess of the monastery. On the foundation of San Salvatore of Brescia, see: Brogiolo, “Desiderio e Ansa a Brescia: dalla fondazione del monastero al mito”. 14 See: Angelo Baronio, “Tra corti e fiume: l’Oglio e le ‘curtes’ del monastero di S. Salvatore di Brescia nei secoli VIII-X”, Rive e rivali. Il fiume Oglio e il suo territorio, ed. by Carla Boroni, Sergio Onger and Maurizio Pegrari (Roccafranca: La compagnia della Stampa, 1999), pp. 11-74; Baronio, “Il monastero di San Salvatore/San Benedetto di Leno e le sue pertinenze nel quadro della ‘politica monastica’ di Desiderio”.

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Leno and Santa Giulia, confirming the usefulness of monasteries in supporting the Lombard policy.

1. 3. The dedication of the abbey The naming of the abbey is a topic worthy of attention. The oldest monastic chronicle, the Catalogue of the Lombard kings written in the late ninth century, attests that the monastery was dedicated to the Saviour: monasterio domini Salvatoris. This was a common name for Lombard monasteries, but it was soon replaced by a dedication to St. Benedict, attested by a charta from the year 806, about fifty years older than the Catalogue, which refers to the casa Sancti Benedicti de Leonis.15 The same dedication to St. Benedict is reported in the first public documents preserved from the monastic archive, one from the 9th and the other from the 10th century. They are a privilege of Ludwig II of Italy, dated February 26, 861 or 862, that refers to the monasterium, quod vocatur Leones, in honorem sancti Benedicti constructum in territorio Brixiano, quod per Desiderium regem Longobardorum constat fuisse fundatum,16 and a privilegii pagina from Pope Sylvester II, dated 19th April 999, reporting the monasterium Domini et Salvatoris nostri et Sancti Patris Benedicti a piissimo Desiderio dive memorie rege constructum in loco qui dicitur Leones in territorio Brixiano.17 The dedication to St. Benedict appeared early in documents which attest the common use, while the reference to the Saviour is contained in a quasi-official chronicle of the foundation of the abbey. The double naming is reported only by the Pope’s letter, since pontifical documents are always very well informed about the traditional dedication of churches, showing a situation where the official dedication to the Saviour, very typical for 15

I placiti del Regnum Italiae, ed. by C. Manaresi (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano, 1955-1960), I, p. 59. 18, Codice Diplomatico Veronese dalla caduta dell’impero romano alla fine del periodo carolingio, ed. by Vittorio Fainelli (Venice: Deputazione di Storia Patria per le Venezie, 1940), pp. 86-89, n. 71, a p. 88: 806 aprile, Verona. 16 Ludovici II. “Diplomata”. Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Diplomatum Karolinorum, ed. by Konrad Wanner (Munich: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1994), IV, pp. 137-139 (doc. n. 35). 17 Francesco Antonio Zaccaria, Dell’antichissima badia di Leno libri tre (Venice: Pietro Marcuzzi, 1767), pp. 80-82 (doc. n. 8). On Zaccaria and his erudition see: Francesco Salvestrini, “‘Ameno pascolo di gentiluomini curiosi’. L’erudizione storica a Pistoia durante l’età moderna (1620-1815)”, Bullettino Storico Pistoiese, 105 (2003), pp. 101-143, especially, pp. 136-137.

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Lombard monasteries, was very soon supplanted and almost replaced by the traditional dedication to St. Benedict, which was established by the common use and is the only naming mentioned in the imperial and private documents from the following centuries. The reference to St. Benedict is certainly explicable with the presence of a precious relic. Transfers of relics should be considered a relevant fact for monasteries, as they were able to generate newer and stronger dedications replacing almost immediately the usual Lombard names. An analogous process occurred in the monastery of Santa Giulia in Brescia, where the initial dedication to the Saviour changed with the transfer of the relic, probably at the time of Berengar.18 The figure of the saint, the father of Benedictine monasticism, had a strong influence on Leno, and the role of the relic was extremely important for building the identity construction of the abbey. However, since the abbey building was completely destroyed and razed to the ground during the 18th century, no evidence of the oldest church structures has survived, and it is not possible to verify the presence of visual links with the figure of the saint, such as pictures or statues.19 The decision of Desiderius to place a relic of St. Benedict, which established an evident link with Monte Cassino in his new monastery, acted as an “imprinting” for Leno. Because the presence of a relic meant the presence of a saint, it was a foundational fact for the public image of a monastery in terms of organisation, dynamics, and relationship with the territory.20 In conclusion, a transfer of relics should be considered a culturally relevant operation: identities are always, in some way, “built”, “invented” and periodically redefined. It is not a neutral operation: even in the absence of a clear theoretical consciousness, the different motivations, which could be cultural, political or social, imply the presence of a precise responsibility. In this way, the promoter of an operation of identity 18 See: Culto e storia in Santa Giulia, ed. by Giancarlo Andenna (Brescia: Grafo, 2001), p. 12; Paolo Tomea, “Intorno a Santa Giulia. Le traslazioni e le ‘rapine’ dei corpi santi nel regno longobardo (Neustria e Austria)”, Culto e storia in Santa Giulia, pp. 29-101, especially, p. 48. 19 St. Benedict appeared on the monumental portal of the church built in 1200: see: Pierfabio Panazza, “Per una ricognizione delle fonti artistiche dell’abbazia di Leno: le sculture, in San Benedetto ad Leones”, Brixia Sacra. Memorie storiche della Diocesi di Brescia, 11/2 (2006), pp. 187-304, especially, pp. 203-205 and 266-269. 20 See: Giuseppe Sergi, “Sulle strade del potere. Monasteri e paesaggio politico”, L’aristocrazia della preghiera. Politica e scelte religiose nel medioevo italiano, ed. by Giuseppe Sergi (Rome: Donzelli, 1994), pp. 31-53, especially, p. 45.

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construction is shown to have held great ideological power, through his ability to influence the organization of certain elements of society.

2. The transfer of the relic of St. Benedict 2. 1. The first monks from Monte Cassino As part of a deliberate plan to gain prestige for his new foundation, King Desiderius requested a group of twelve monks from Monte Cassino to settle in the new monastery,21 a primary spiritual reference for European monasticism, in order to establish a connection between Leno and Monte Cassino, with its prestigious tradition.22 The monks, led by Hermoald, who became the first abbot of Leno,23 brought with them the relic of St. Benedict, settling a precise identity for Leno under the sign of a strong bond with Monte Cassino. 21

See: “ Catalogi regum Langobardorum et Italicorum Brixiensis et Nonantulanus”, p. 503. Also the “Epitome chronicorum Casinensium”, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, ed. by L. A. Muratori (Milan: A. Forni, 1973), II, pp. 345370, especially, p. 357, tells the episode, but, mistakenly, puts it in connection with the abbot Petronax, who died in the year 749 or 750 (see: Hartmut Hoffmann, “Die älteren Abtslisten von Montecassino”, Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken, 47 (1967), pp. 224-354, especially, pp. 246-247). 22 On Monte Cassino as a symbol, see: Mariano Dell’Omo, “Montecassino altomedievale: i secoli VIII e IX. Genesi di un simbolo, storia di una realtà”, Il monachesimo italiano dall’età longobarda all’età ottoniana, secc. VIII-X, ed. by Giovanni Spinelli (Cesena: Badia di Santa Maria del Monte, 2006), pp. 165-192; Walter Pohl, “History in fragments: Montecassino’s politics of memory”, Early medieval Europe, 10 (2001), pp. 343-374; Werkstatte der Erinnerung: Montecassino und die Gestaltung der langobardischen Vergangenheit (Vienna: Oldenbourg, 2001). 23 On Hermoald little is known beyond legends. See: Malvecii, “Chronicon Brixianum ab origine urbis usque ad annum MCCCXXXII”, col. 849, cap. 92; Zaccaria, Dell’antichissima badia di Leno libri tre, pp. 11-13 and 292. According to the Epitome chronicorum Casinensium, he lived more than thirty years after his arrival in Leno (“Epitome chronicorum Casinensium”, p. 357). The name of Hermoald appears at the head of a list of monks of Leno, entered in the liber confraternitatis of the monastery of Reichenau: “Das Verbru‫ޠ‬derungsbuch der Abtei Reichenau (Einleitung, Register, Faksimile)”, Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Libri memoriales et necrologia, nova series, ed. by Johanne Autenrieth, Dieter Geuenich and Karl Schmid (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1979), I, pp. 1819 (“Nomina fratrum de monasterio quod vocatur Leonis”). See: Sandmann, Herrscherverzeichnisse als Geschichtsquellen. Studien zur langobardischitalienischen Überlieferung, pp. 362-416.

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Since Petronax, the second founder of Monte Cassino and also the abbot who restored the abbey in the early 8th century after it was destroyed by the Lombards,24 was from Brescia, this earlier link between Monte Cassino and the territory of Brescia in some ways favoured the request from King Desiderius to the abbot Optatus of Monte Cassino regarding the receipt of such a precious relic. The relationship established between Leno and Monte Cassino was very strong and durable, and the relic was evidence of this bond. Leno can be called the “first-born son of Monte Cassino”:25 there are no historical sources about other European monasteries before Leno founded directly by a community of monks from Monte Cassino. The strong symbolic value of the saint's figure was part of the process of identity construction led by King Desiderius for his new monastery. Transfers of relics were a privileged vehicle for the cult of saints, and during the Middle Ages –but not only then– they represented an essential element in the formation of the identities of communities,26 holding a special place among the practices used for the social construction of reality.27 A transfer created a precise model of identity, redefining religious hierarchies and political and ecclesiastical geographies.28 For this strong potential, the role of the promoter of the transfer, in this case King Desiderius, appears extremely important, since he was able to use the powerful social value of the relics and the related prestige which they were able to bestow.29 The transfer of the relic of St. Benedict to Leno defined 24

On Petronax, see: Pauli Diaconi. Historia Langobardorum, VI, 40. See also: Dell’Omo, “Montecassino altomedievale: i secoli VIII e IX. Genesi di un simbolo, storia di una realtà”, pp. 166-176. 25 Giovanni Spinelli, Leno e Montecassino, . 26 Julia M. H. Smith, “Saints and their Cults”, The Cambridge History of Christianity, 3. Early Medieval Christianities, c. 600 – 1100, ed. By Thomas F. X. Noble and Julia M. H. Smith (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), pp. 581-605; Martina Caroli, “Bringing Saints to Cities and Monasteries: Translationes in the Making of a Sacred Geography (Ninth-Tenth Centuries)”, Towns and Their Territories between Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, ed. by Gian Pietro Brogiolo, Nancy Gauthier and Neil Christie (Leiden, Boston and Cologne: Brill, 2000), pp. 259-274. 27 See: Walter Pohl, “History in fragments”, p. 347. 28 See: Patrick J. Geary, ‘Furta sacra’: Thefts of relics in the central middle ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990); Edina Bozóky, La politique des reliques de Constantin à saint Louis: protection collective et légitimation du pouvoir (Paris: Beauchesne, 2007). 29 See: Les reliques. Objets, cultes, symboles. Actes du colloque international de

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the close relationship with Monte Cassino as being part of a precise strategy by King Desiderius. On the other hand, this link persisted in time. For example, in the 11th century, the reforming abbot of Leno, Richer of Niederaltaich,30 was promoted by the Emperor to abbot of Monte Cassino, and remained the “superior” of both monasteries, Leno and Monte Cassino, until his death, a unique case in the history of Italian monasticism.

2. 2. Preliminary remarks on the historical sources regarding the relic A question arises from the analysis of the historical sources about the relic of Leno: what exactly was this relic? The oldest sources report only quedam corporis pars, without specifying which part of the body the relic consisted of.31 Due to the loss of the monastic archive regarding this period, the Medieval sources on this relic are highly precarious, and in general, those reconstructing the history of Leno Abbey have to deal with a dramatic lack of documentation.32 There is a document from 1473, a section of the Statutes of the city of Brescia, which specifically identifies the relic with an arm of the saint.33 This document and an inventory from 1475,34 testify that, in the late 15th century, the relic was kept in the treasury of Brescia Cathedral. Somewhere along the line, because of the crisis and the decline of the monastery after the 12th century, the relic passed from Leno to Brescia. Undoubtedly, the relic of the arm of St. Benedict kept in Brescia Cathedral, often mentioned in the local tradition of the following centuries, came from Leno. The newfound presence of this relic and its symbolic

l’Université du Littoral-Côte d’Opale (Boulogne-sur-Mer) 4-6 septembre 1997, ed. by Edina Bozóky and Anne-Marie Helvétius (Turnhout: Brepols, 1999). 30 See: Herbert Bloch, Monte Cassino in the Middle Ages, 3 vols. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986), I, p. 32; Maria Chiara Succurro, “L’abbazia di San Benedetto di Leno”, pp. 206-208. 31 See: Catalogi regum Langobardorum et Italicorum Brixiensis et Nonantulanus, p. 503; Malvecii, “Chronicon Brixianum ab origine urbis usque ad annum MCCCXXXII”, col. 848, cap. 91. 32 On the archive of the monastery, see: Ezio Barbieri, “L’archivio del monastero in L’abbazia di San Benedetto di Leno”, pp. 255-262; Maria Chiara Succurro, “L’abbazia di San Benedetto di Leno”, pp. 1-30. 33 Statuta civitatis Brixiae (Brixiae: Damian Turlin, 1557), p. 133 (Statuta civilia, rubrica CCXIV: De feudo et iuribus ac reliquiis Communis Brixiae). 34 A copy of the document is in: ASB, ASC, Reg. A (G.XIII.1523), f. 150.

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importance was a good opportunity for the city of Brescia to gain prestige, and for this reason scholars and local historians in the 17th century aimed to demonstrate that the relic was transferred directly from Monte Cassino to Brescia in ancient times, at the behest of Petronax, replacing Leno in historical local memory, and taking advantage of the great decline of the abbey in those centuries. These local historians are already known for their forgeries, and in this case, they were also carried away by their imagination in order to gain prestige for their city,35 however it is demonstrable that the relic of the arm of St. Benedict did arrive in Brescia from Leno. The many debates around the origin of this relic show its symbolic importance during the 18th and 19th centuries, an importance that it still carries nowadays.36

2. 3. The long-term persistence of a symbol The issue of the relic of Leno still appears to have been critical in 1950, when two graves were discovered with two bodies, attributed to St. Benedict and St. Scholastica in Monte Cassino. These remains were analysed, and anatomical and radiological studies were performed on the bones. In 1951, a volume was published on the issue of the body of St. Benedict, drawing the conclusion that the relic of Leno was compatible with the remains discovered in Monte Cassino. This was considered evidence that the body of the saint was never transferred to Fleury.37 The question of the two bodies of St. Benedict and the translatio to Fleury is an issue that transcends the limits of this paper. What can be 35

See: Maria Chiara Succurro, “Una ‘politica della memoria’? Fondazioni monastiche e traslazioni reliquiali nel progetto di re Desiderio”, Desiderio. Il progetto politico dell’ultimo re longobardo, ed. by Gabriele Archetti (Rome: Studium, forthcoming). On the Brescia historiography on the relic see also: Ennio Ferraglio, “La reliquia del braccio di san Benedetto tra Montecassino, Leno e Brescia. Note sulle fonti storiografiche moderne, in San Faustino Maggiore di Brescia, il monastero della città”, Brixia Sacra. Memorie storiche della Diocesi di Brescia, 11/1 (2006), pp. 473-486, bearing in mind however that the local scholars mentioned in this article are suspected of many forgeries. On the characteristics of 17th century local historiography, see: François Menant, Lombardia feudale (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1992), pp. 3-22, in particular, pp. 9-11. 36 See: Paolo Guerrini, Brescia e Montecassino in un carteggio inedito intorno a una reliquia di s. Benedetto (Subiaco: Tippographica dei Monasteri, 1942). 37 Il sepolcro di San Benedetto (Montecassino: Pubblicazioni Cassinesi, 1951); on the anatomical and radiological comparisons, see: pp. 44, n. 1 e 59-60, fig. 14-15 and rad. 28; on the considerations about the relic of Leno and the translation to Fleury, see: pp. 139-140.

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pointed out once again is the extraordinary strength and long-term persistence of the symbolic value of the relic for Leno, and of its link with Monte Cassino. In general, it is important to specify that, from an historical point of view, it is not so important to demonstrate the material as belonging to a piece of a body. As Patrick J. Geary pointed out, a relic as an object in itself is passive and neutral, while what appears relevant for historians is the individuals and communities who relate themselves to these objects and assign them a value.38 The importance of a relic as an object of anthropological study lies in the cultural value bestowed upon it by individuals. Given that the value of a relic is not intrinsic, but attributed by men within a specific cultural context, while the theft of relics breaks a cultural context, consequently, in a peaceful transfer from one community to another, the cultural context is preserved and there is a continuity of symbols and values. Hence, the great value of the relic of Leno resides in its specific origin from Monte Cassino, considered the cradle of Western monastic culture, and in the bond established between the two communities. The extraordinary long-term persistence of this memory testifies to the importance of the symbolic value of the relic.

2. 4. Meaning of a presence When he placed the relic of St. Benedict in Leno, King Desiderius’ purposes were both political and religious: he founded the monastery shortly after the beginning of his reign, a reign that was strongly opposed by the Lombard aristocracy, and this suggests a political purpose, but the foundation highlighted his newly-acquired prestigious status also from the spiritual point of view. It is possible that the king built the abbey of Leno as his personal mausoleum, and even if we know that the circumstances of Desiderius’ burial turned out differently than he had planned,39 he prepared a location worthy of his royal grave, not only for its richness, but also for its spiritual dignity. Maybe Desiderius also needed to control the expansion in this area of the Nonantola Abbey, which was protected by the dynasty of his enemy, Ratchis. The outcome of this operation, in any case, was the building of a 38

Patrick J. Geary, ‘Furta sacra’, p. 7; on the symbolic value of the relics, see, in particular, pp. 9-13. 39 On the burial of Desiderius see: Le sepolture regie del regno italico (secoli VIX), ed. by Piero Majocchi, online repository .

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specific devotional identity. Placing a relic in a monastery meant much more than offering material for popular devotion: it was the declaration of a project. It meant establishing an identity, themes and models, setting a liturgy and elaborating feasts and ceremonies.40

3. Building an identity 3. 1. The naming and sacred geography of the landscape The precise identity of Leno found material reflection in its relationship with its territory. First of all, it was embodied in the naming of the abbey. Leno was the first and only monastery in northern Italy dedicated to St. Benedict, and, in addition to the motherhouse, the same name was given also to churches and chapels dependent on the monastery. Thanks to the abbey of Leno, the name of the saint, and with it also his cult, could spread throughout these territories, through churches and chapels dependent on Leno repeating the same dedication, like those of Brescia, Panzano di Modena, Bizzolano, Toscolano, Pavone Mella, Fontanellato di Parma, Torricella Cremonese and Gonzaga.41 There was also a church dedicated to St. Benedict in Verona,42 and the island of St. Benedict, where there was a chapel with the same name (the same island where the lords of Canossa found the monastery of Polirone in the 11th century) also belonged to Leno.43 There were also possessions of the abbey of Leno dedicated to St. Benedict in Lunigiana, a region that, for its geo-morphological features, always had an important role in connecting the Po valley with the Tyrrhenian area. In Montelungo, there was a senodochio Sancti Benedicti in Montelongo, while there was an ecclesia 40

See: Les reliques. Objets, cultes, symboles. See: ASM, AD, PF, cart. 94, fasc. 48 (1194 luglio 31); ASM, AD, PF, cart. 86, fasc. 40h (1278 gennaio 27; 1278 febbraio 11); Die Urkunden Konrad I., Heinrich I. und Otto I, Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Urkunden der deutschen Könige und Kaiser, ed. by Th. von Sickel (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 18791884), I, pp. 334-336 (doc. n. 240); Zaccaria, Dell’antichissima badia di Leno libri tre, pp. 80-82 (doc n. 8). On the church of Gonzaga, see: La chiesa di San Benedetto abate di Gonzaga, ed. by Nicoletta Battisti et alii (Mantova: Casa del Mantegna, 1990). On the other attestations, see: Maria Chiara Succurro, “L’abbazia di San Benedetto di Leno”, pp. 169-175. 42 On the history of this church, see: Gian Maria Varanini, “La chiesa di S. Benedetto al Monte di Verona, antica dipendenza leonense”, pp. 87-92. 43 See: Giovanni Spinelli, “La primitiva comunità monastica (1007-1077)”, Storia di San Benedetto Polirone. Le origini, 961-112, ed. by Paolo Golinelli (Bologna: Pàtron Editore, 1998), pp. 55-70, especially, pp. 63-64. 41

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dedicated to St. Benedict in Talavorno.44 In short, a great majority of the dedications to St. Benedict in the territories of central and northern Italy before the 11th century can be related to Leno and its dependencies.45 In addition to their liturgical and devotional role, these foundations also played a role in ‘imprinting’ the territory. Overseeing specific geographic areas, they carried with them the weight and the identity of the motherhouse, reshaping the “sacred geography” of the landscape, and in this way the beginning of the cult of St. Benedict in the Po valley appears to be connected with the abbey of Leno and its dependencies.46

3. 2. Feasts and Liturgy The relic was the subject of a special cult. Although we have no evidence in this sense for the period under examination, it is likely that Leno was a place of pilgrimage, at least in later times, because of the presence of the relic. Since the monastery had accommodation facilities suitable for a large number of visitors, Leno, together with Santa Giulia, could have been the destination of a significant flow of travellers and pilgrims, interested in the area of Brescia.47 These considerations, however, are valid mainly for the subsequent period. The special worship of the saint also determined aspects of the liturgical calendar. Some scholars supposed that the liturgical feast of St. 44

On Montelungo and Talavorno, see: Giampietro Rigosa, “Per la storia dell’espansione di Leno verso il Tirreno. Note di toponomastica lunigianese”, San Benedetto ad Leones, pp. 433-456, especially, pp. 436-441 and 446-448, with bibliography. 45 See the repository Lombardia Beni Culturali (). The dedication to St. Benedict of the Nonantola abbey, that appears in an imperial document from 797 (Die Urkunden Pippins, Karlmanns und Karls des Großen, pp. 246-248 (doc. n. 183) is a hapax legomenon with only one occurrence. 46 See: Giovanni Spinelli, “Ordini e congregazioni religiose”, Diocesi di Brescia, ed. by Adriano Caprioli, Antonio Rimoldi and Luciano Vaccaro (Brescia: La Scuola, 1992), pp. 291-355, especially, p. 294; Spinelli, “La primitiva comunità monastica”, p. 64; Gregorio Penco, Storia del monachesimo in Italia dalle origini alla fine del Medio Evo (Rome: Edizioni Paoline, 1961), p. 113; Maria Chiara Succurro, “L’abbazia di San Benedetto di Leno”, pp. 164-181. 47 See: Angelo Baronio, “Tra Brescia e Roma sulle strade dei monasteri, Lungo le strade della fede. Pellegrini e pellegrinaggio nel Bresciano”, Brixia Sacra. Memorie storiche della Diocesi di Brescia, 6/3-4 (2001), pp. 129-162, especially, p. 134.

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Benedict on July 11 would have originated from the transfer of the relic of the saint from Monte Cassino to Leno.48 The feast of July 11, the traditional feast of the Translatio sancti Benedicti, followed immediately the feast of the dedication of the abbey church, which was celebrated on July 10, and is celebrated to this day in the village of Leno. This feast recalls the martyrs Vitalis and Martial, whose relics were also kept in the abbey,49 but this is only a hypothesis. There is an important codex that could offer some information, an 11th century Sacramentary from Brescia.50 The text is preceded by an interesting Calendar reporting the fixed feasts, and followed by a copious collection of missae of the Commune Sanctorum. Without doubt, the most interesting part of the codex is the Calendar, as it represents the oldest complete document of its kind about Brescia Church. The Calendar allowed scholars to state confidently that the manuscript was from Brescia, and from a Benedictine background, because it reports all the particular feasts of the liturgical tradition of the city, and also all the feasts of the Benedictine order. The manuscript reports the double feast of St. Benedict: on March 21, which is called transitus Benedicti abbatis in the Calendar and die natalis in the Sacramentary; and July 11, which is marked on the Calendar as revelacio sancti Benedicti abbatis and translatio in the Sacramentary. The feast of July 11 is marked in red to indicate its special solemnity. Regarding the feast on March 21, the two words transitus and die natalis are synonymous and refer to the saint’s death. Yet the terms revelacio and translatio, which refer to the feast of July 11, are not synonymous. Under the entry for Revelacio, Du Cange’s Glossarium reports, Exemptio sacri 48

See: Germain Morin, “La translation de S. Benoit et la chronique de Leno”, Revue bénédectine, 19 (1902), pp. 337-356; Guerrini, Brescia e Montecassino in un carteggio inedito intorno a una reliquia di s. Benedetto, pp. 16-18; Spinelli, “Ordini e congregazioni religiose”, p. 294; Spinelli, “La primitiva comunità monastica”, p. 60; Penco, Storia del monachesimo in Italia dalle origini alla fine del Medio Evo, p. 113; Il sepolcro di san Benedetto, p. 140 (doc. n. 76). 49 See: Guerrini, Brescia e Montecassino in un carteggio inedito intorno a una reliquia di s. Benedetto, p. 17. 50 On the history of this codex, its codicological description and a bibliography of studies, see: Emidio Zana, Il Sacramentario benedettino-bresciano del secolo XI. Ricerche sul ms. 2547 della Biblioteca dell’Università di Bologna (Brescia: Ateneo, 1971), pp. 9-21; Claudia Villa, “Due antiche biblioteche bresciane. I cataloghi della Cattedrale e di S. Giovanni de Foris”, Italia medioevale e umanistica, 15 (1972), pp. 63-97, especially, p. 85 (doc. n. 1); see also: pp. 64 and 72-73); Claudia Villa, “Brixiensia”, Italia medioevale e umanistica, 20 (1977), pp. 243-275.

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corporis e tumulo et eiusdem elatio, that is, an exhumation of remains for a more honourable place. As pointed out by the publisher of the Sacramentary,51 the three names used to indicate the feast of July 11 reveal a unique convergence: exhumation (revelacio), deposition in a new sarcophagus (depositio) and the transfer of a body part (translatio). In relation with this codex, some historians supposed that the feast called translatio sancti Benedicti abbatis does not refer to the move to Fleury, as traditionally believed, but to the transfer of the relic of St. Benedict from Monte Cassino to Leno.52 Unfortunately, there is no evidence for this, and this is only a hypothesis. It is possible to infer that Leno was the centre of a special cult of St. Benedict, the first in northern Italy, and that this cult, based on an important relic, probably generated a specific liturgical calendar. On the other hand, some later documents testify that the feast of St. Benedict was solemnly celebrated in the abbeychurch of Leno and its dependent churches.53

3. 3. The Benedictine Rule By virtue of its clear identity and special bond with St. Benedict, Leno probably also had a key role in spreading Benedictine rule in northern Italy.54 At the time of the founding of Leno, the Benedictine rule was not so widespread. For example, another important male monastery in northern Italy, Bobbio, followed a mixed rule.55 The evident adherence of Leno to the Benedictine model of Monte Cassino, emphasized by all the signs mentioned above, was a manifest stance. At that time, the adherence to the Rule of St. Benedict was first an adherence to the model of Monte

51

Zana, Il Sacramentario benedettino-bresciano del secolo XI, p. 66. Paolo Guerrini, “La festa del Patrocinio di san Benedetto è di origine bresciana?”, L’Osservatore Romano, 27 (1947), p. 20 (doc. n. 173). 53 ASB, ASC, Codice Diplomatico Bresciano, b. 7 n. CXXXVIII. 54 See: Giorgio Picasso, “Presenza benedettina in Lombardia”, Monasteri benedettini in Lombardia, ed. by Giorgio Picasso (Milan: Silvana, 1980), pp. 9-23, especially, p. 18; Giancarlo Andenna, “Monasteri altomedievali nell’area subalpina e retica (secoli VIII-IX)”, Il monachesimo italiano dall’età longobarda all’età ottoniana, secc. VIII-X, pp. 193-213, especially, pp. 210-211. 55 La Regola di San Benedetto e le regole dei Padri, ed. by Salvatore Pricoco (Rome: Fondazione Lorenzo Valla, 1995), pp. 11, 45; Gregorio Penco, “Condizioni e correnti del monachesimo in Italia nel secolo VI”, Benedictina, 27 (1980), pp. 91-107, especially, pp. 93-95; Marilyn Dunn, The Emergence of Monasticism. From the Desert Fathers to the Early Middle Ages (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 2000), pp. 25-41 and 98-107. 52

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Cassino,56 which was not only a spiritual reference, but also a real model of monastic life. The example of Boniface, founder of Fulda, is enlightening in comparison with the case of Leno. When he was preparing his new monastery, between 750 and 754, he turned to the congregatio of Monte Cassino, referred to as “keeper of the regularis vitae norma”, in order to create a liturgical fraternity with the monks of that community.57 The rise of the Benedictine Rule had to occur either through its transcription, or through the arrival of people coming from a monastery already adhering to the Benedictine order (conversatio).58 Consequently, the colony of monks from Monte Cassino appears the most direct and obvious means of transmission for the Rule for the monastery of Leno. The transmission of the Rule through transcription of manuscripts was also important, but unfortunately, the complete dispersion of the library of Leno makes it impossible to discuss this. It is known that Monte Cassino was an important centre for the transmission of texts. For example, Charlemagne asked the abbey directly to send him a codex of the Rule,59 and from this codex a copy was prepared for the monastery of Reichenau, and probably, on the basis of this, the so-called Regula Sangallensis.60 56

Monte Cassino had a strong symbolic function: Prinz defined the monastery as a proper Anziehungspunkt, a pole of attraction for political and religious personalities (Friedrich Prinz, “Mönchtum und frühmittelalterliche Gesellschaft”, Regulae Benedicti studia. Annuarium internationale, ed. by Bernd Jaspert and Eugène Manning (Hildesheim: Gerstenberg, 1972), I, pp. 209-217, especially, p. 217). See also: Dell’Omo, “Montecassino altomedievale: i secoli VIII e IX. Genesi di un simbolo, storia di una realtà”, pp. 176-180. 57 Die Briefe des heiligen Bonifatius und Lullus, Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Epistolae selectae, ed. by Michael Tangl (Berlin: Weidmann, 1955), I, p. 231; see also: Dell’Omo, “Montecassino altomedievale: i secoli VIII e IX. Genesi di un simbolo, storia di una realtà”, p. 180 and n. 51. 58 See: Vita Benedicti abbatis Anianensis et Indensis auctore Ardone, ed. by G. Waitz (Hannoverae: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1887), pp. 198-220, especially, pp. 215-216. 59 See: “Theodemari abbatis Casinensis epistula ad Karolum regem”, Corpus Consuetudinum Monasticarum, 14 vols., ed. by Kassius Hallinger and M. Wegener (Siegburg: apud Franciscum Schmitt, 1963-1999), I, pp. 137-175; Paul Meyvaert, “Problems Concerning the ‘Autograph’ Manuscript of Saint Benedict’s Rule”, Revue Bénédictine, 69 (1959), pp. 3-21, especially, p. 7; Michael Lapidge, “The School of Theodore and Hadrian”, Anglo-Saxon England, 15 (1987), pp. 45-72, especially, pp. 62-64. 60 The text is now part of the famous manuscript 914 of the Stiftsbibliothek of St. Gall: Regula Benedicti de codice 914 in bibliotheca monasterii S. Galli servato, ed. by Benedikt Probst (St. Ottilien: EOS, 1983); Mechthild Gretsch, The intellectual foundations of the English Benedictine reform (Cambridge and New

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Since Leno was in close contact with Reichenau Monastery,61 it cannot be excluded that it was also part of these privileged channels of exchange. The founding of Leno can be related also to a specific need to evangelise a country not yet fully brought back to orthodoxy.62 In a similar context, the message of the Rule could play a key role, becoming a specific proposal and model of life. It is well known that it was the reform of Benedict of Aniane, in 816 and 817, that extended the Rule of St. Benedict to all monasteries,63 and perhaps this reform may have found a valid and active support in Leno for northern Italy, since the abbey was very active in Carolingian policy in Italian territories and greatly benefited by the Carolingian kings. Leno could have been the bastion of the pure tradition of Monte Cassino in the northern territories, and may have played a key role in diffusing the Benedictine rule in northern Italy, even before the Carolingian period. Great benefits granted to the monastery of Leno by Carolingian kings, and the high-level network of relationships it became part of may also be due to the fact that the abbey was a valid interlocutor for religious uniformity sanctioned by the reform of Benedict of Aniane. However, the lack of sources from Leno Abbey is stark, and makes it very difficult to find reliable data.

York: Cambridge University Press, 1999), p. 243. 61 See: Uwe Ludwig, “I libri memoriales e i rapporti di fratellanza tra i monasteri alemanni e i monasteri italiani nell’alto medioevo”, Il monachesimo italiano dall’età longobarda all’età ottoniana, secc. VIII-X, pp. 153-155. 62 On the remaining Lombard culture, yet imbued with clearly pagan elements, see: Stefano Gasparri, La cultura tradizionale dei longobardi. Struttura tribale e resistenze pagane (Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 1983). See also: Angelo Baronio, “Monasterium et populus”. Per la storia del contado lombardo: Leno (Brescia: Ateneo di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, 1984), pp. 48-49 (doc. n. 1). 63 On the reform of Aachen, see: Josef Semmler, “Benedictus II: una regula-una consuetudo”, Benedictine culture, 750-1050, ed. by Willelm Lourdaux and Daniel Verhelst (Louvain: Leuven University Press, 1983), pp. 1-49; Benedetto di Aniane. Vita e riforma monastica, ed. by Giancarlo Andenna and Cinzia Bonetti (Cinisello Balsamo: Edizioni Paoline, 1993), pp. 29-58; Mayke de Jong, “Carolingian monasticism: the power of prayer”, The New Cambridge Medieval History, 7 vols., ed. by Rosamond McKitterick (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995-2005), II, pp. 622-653. On the decrees of Aachen see: “Synodi primae et secundae Aquisgranensis decreta authentica”, Corpus Consuetudinum Monasticarum, ed. by Josef Semmler, I, pp. 457-468 and 473-481.

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Conclusions The lack of documentation leaves some of the conclusions of my research rather like working hypotheses. What appears quite certain is that there was a precise project by King Desiderius. The king decided to donate the relic to his new monastery in order to gain a prestigious status for Leno which would endure. He wanted to place an abbey of immediate religious impact in the heart of his regnum, which could be a centre with the same status for the devotion of the Lombards that the abbey of Monte Cassino had in the centre-south of Italy. Leno represented the most evident and direct bond with the purest tradition of Benedictine monasticism in the territory of the Lombard kingdom, and the abbey was also involved in evangelising its territory, and, at the same time, was a political project. The foundation of Leno was an expression of the political image of Desiderius, a project aimed at strengthening his personal and family prestige, following the standard practice among Lombard sovereigns. According to the ideology of Lombard kingship, ecclesiastical institutions represented an investment directed at perpetuating the memory of the sovereign, and these sepulchral churches were related to the parental environment rather than the dynastic one.64 From this point of view, it is not impossible that Desiderius built Leno as his royal sepulchre. In any case, Leno represented a great ideological and material investment for the king, and the gift of an important relic was aimed at increasing the prestige of the monastery, which in turn had the function of perpetuating the king’s own memory and prestige.65 The importance gained by Leno and its symbolic meaning was so significant that the monastery maintained its prestige after the end of the kingdom of Desiderius, and the end of Lombard domination in Italy. Leno was engaged in a network of relations with the Carolingian Empire, its abbots were prominent figures in politics and the monastery was part of the prayer brotherhood of the monastery of Reichenau. In addition, the extraordinary long-term persistence of the memory of the relic testifies to the importance of the symbolic value given to the monastery by its founder 64

On the transmission of the memory of Lombard kingship, see: Walter Pohl, “Memory, identity and power in Lombard Italy”, The Uses of the Past in the Early Middle Ages, ed. by Yitzhak Hen, Matthew Innes (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000). On royal funerary rituals and burial places in the Lombard kingdom, see: Piero Majocchi, “La morte del re. Rituali funerari e commemorazione dei sovrani nell’alto medioevo”, Storica, 49/17 (2011), pp. 7-61. 65 On the memory and myth of Desiderius in Leno e Brescia during the Middle Ages, see: Maria Chiara Succurro, “Una ‘politica della memoria’?”.

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in the very moment of its origin. In some way, Desiderius’ project for Leno succeeded, and determined the specific identity constructed for the monastery that represented in its early moments a cultural operation implemented by the Lombard kingship, and provided the dominant features of the later history of the institution.

THE BISHOPRIC OF URGELL IN THE SECOND HALF OF THE 11TH CENTURY: JURISDICTION, CONVENIENTIAE, SIMONY1 JAUME CAMATS CAMPABADAL UNIVERSITAT DE LLEIDA

Introduction Until recently, addressing the study of specific issues such as those related to the feudal transition of the society of Urgell and, therefore, its church, was a matter of great complexity due to, amongst other things, the difficulty in accessing documentary sources and their limited diffusion. By contrast, nowadays, the editing of the existing documentary base offers the researchers an abundant source of valuable information which, conveniently analysed and interpreted, should enable them to conduct a detailed study of the participation and involvement of the church throughout this period of feudal transformation, a topic which has not been studied in depth. The purpose of this study, entitled “The Bishopric of Urgell in the second half of the 11th century: jurisdiction, convenientiae, simony”, covers these three inherent questions throughout the feudal transition. Firstly, with a clear goal of providing some context, it is necessary for an introductory chapter to highlight both the pastoral and political action of the prelates from Urgell during this period. Then, an in-depth analysis is carried out on of a number of features that have arisen due to the information provided by the documentation, these make up the various chapters of this study.

1

Abbreviations used: ACS, Arxiu Capitular de Solsona; ACU, Arxiu Capitular d’Urgell; ADG, Arxiu Diocesà de Girona; ASVC, Arxiu de Sant Vicenç de Cardona; BC, Biblioteca de Catalunya; LBT, Liber Bullarum of the Monastery of Tavèrnoles, LDEU, Liber Dotaliorum Ecclesiae Urgellensis.

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This should allow, on the one hand, the strengthening and consolidation of the position and rights of the church in this territory to be confirmed. On the other hand, it also deals with the involvement of this institution in this feudal transformation and its increasingly close relationship with Rome, with all the consequences that this entailed for the church of Urgell, whose jurisdiction at the beginning of the 12th century stretched to the counties of Urgell, Pallars, Cerdanya, Berga and Andorra, in addition to owning rights and properties in Conflent, Vallespir, Besalú, Ripoll, Roussillon, etc.

1. Activities of the Bishops from Urgell in the 11th Century The 11th century commenced coinciding with the last years of the pontificate of Bishop Sal·la, documented in the performance of his duties since 981.2 This bishop was the son of Isarn and Ranlo, viscounts of Conflent,3 a family from which his successor also came: Ermengol was the son of viscount Bernat, son of Isarn and Ranlo,4 and Guisla de Conflent and, therefore, Sal·la’s nephew. As well as being one of the most important figures in the church of his time, Sal·la had a close relationship with the counts of Barcelona and Urgell, which meant, among other things, the extension of the property of the Church of Urgell and the birth and consolidation of the Episcopal Overlordship of Andorra.5 Regarding Ermengol, during his pastoral activity the bishop reformed the religious community and commenced work on the new cathedral of the Seu d’Urgell. He was an outstanding promoter of the Benedictine expansion and a strong advocate of the rights of the religious community and the bishopric, and of public works, especially those relating to the communication routes between Alt Urgell and Cerdanya –in fact, he died due to a fall while inspecting the work on Bar Bridge in 1035. His political

2 ACU, n. 109, copy from the 13th century; LDEU, I, f. 217 (doc. n. 724); Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 981-1010, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, Urgellia, 3 (1980), p. 24 (doc. n. 188). 3 Armand de Fluvià, “Els comtes del comtat d’Urgell”, Els primitius comtats i vescomtats de Catalunya: cronologia de comtes i vescomtes (Barcelona: Enciclopèdia Catalana, 1978), p. 179. 4 de Fluvià, “Els comtes del comtat d’Urgell”, p. 179. 5 Cebrià Baraut, Jesús Castells, Benigne Marquès and Enric Moliné, “Episcopologi de l’Església d’Urgell, segles VI-XXI”, Urgellia, 14 (1998-2001), pp. 39-40.

36

The Bishopric of Urgell in the Second Half of the 11th Century

and military activity was also intense, as evidenced by his leadership in the conquest of Guissona, which had been in Saracen hands until then.6 Regarding Eribau, he substituted Bishop Ermengol in 1036, according to a document dated 8th May 1036 that he signed as the Bishop of Urgell.7 He was the son of Ramon and Engúncia, viscounts of Osona-Cardona8, a family that, in the middle of the 11th century, were closely linked to the county of Urgell. He served as acting Viscount of Osona during his brother Folc’s minority, and as the Bishop of Seu d’Urgell after the death of Bishop Ermengol.9 He consecrated numerous churches in 1040, such as those in Sant Vicenç de Cardona10 and Sant Serni de Tavèrnoles.11 However, the most important consecration was undoubtedly that of the cathedral of Santa Maria de La Seu, on 23rd October, conducted in the presence of the elites of the Church and politics of the time, among whom were the Archbishop of Narbonne, Guifré, Constança, the widow of Ermengol II “the Pilgrim” and their son count Ermengol III.12 The document also mentions the presence of Arnulf, entitled on this occasion “Bishop of Roda”, instead of the customary “Bishop of Ribagorza”. Proof can be found in the Act of Consecration of the church of the monastery of Tavèrnoles, where Arnulf is introduced as Arnulphus Ripacurtiensis episcopus [...].13 6

In any case, the figures of Bishop Sal·la and Ermengol have been widely discussed by professor Prim Bertran Roigé in “El bisbat d’Urgell al tombant del primer mil·lenni”, International Medieval Meeting Lleida 2011, unpublished. See also: Prim Bertran, “Ermengol d’Urgell: l’obra d’un bisbe del segle XI”, La transformació de la frontera al segle XI, ed. by Flocel Sabaté (Lleida: Servei de Publicacions de la Universitat de Lleida, 2000), pp. 89-132. 7 ACU, copy from the thirteenth century; LDEU, I, f. 28r-28v (doc. n. 44); Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1036-1050, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, Urgellia, 5 (1982), pp. 29-30 (doc. n. 491). 8 de Fluvià, “Els comtes del comtat d’Urgell”, p. 157. 9 de Fluvià, “Els comtes del comtat d’Urgell”, p. 157. 10 Original parchment, ASVC, interpolated in a copy from the 12th century; Cebrià Baraut, “Les actes de consagració d’esglésies del Bisbat d’Urgell (s. IX-XII)”, Urgellia, 1 (1978), pp. 128-131 (doc. n. 52). 11 Copy from the twelfth century lost, LBT, f. 17ss, copy of the notary of the Seu d’Urgell Pere Dalmau, 1708; Baraut, “Les actes de consagració d’esglésies del Bisbat d’Urgell (s. IX-XII)”, pp. 116-120 (doc. n. 48). 12 Original lost, ACU, copy from the 13th century; LDEU, I, f. 17 (doc. n. 24); Baraut, “Les actes de consagració d’esglésies del Bisbat d’Urgell (s. IX-XII)”, pp. 126-128 (doc. n. 51). 13 Copy from the 12th century lost, LBT, f. 17ss, copy of the notary of the Seu d’Urgell Pere Dalmau, 1708; Baraut, “Les actes de consagració d’esglésies del Bisbat d’Urgell (s. IX-XII)”, pp. 116-120 (doc. n. 48).

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In the Bishop of Roda’s approach to the Church of Urgell, the death of King Sancho the Great of Navarra five years earlier is a key factor. This represented a radical change to the status of the See of Ribagorza. Thus Ramiro I, the deceased’s son, and new regent of Sobrarbe and Ribagorza, granted a document14 in the month of September 1040 (and did so at the request of Eribau) wherein he recognised that the districts of Ribagorza and Gistau and the place of Roda had been unfairly taken away from the dominion of the Church of Urgell by his father quod iniuste abstulerat pater eius Sancius rex [...] and decreed to return them to the Urgell See with all their possessions. This restoration was performed by Ramiro I, taking as a reference the alleged donation of Emperor Louis the Pious to the Church of Urgell recorded in the Act of Consecration of the Church of Santa Maria de la Seu in 839.15 However, this date is now accepted as false and is seen as being the result of later historiographic manipulation.16 Among those trusted by Bishop Eribau, the figure of Arnau Mir de Tost should be emphasized, as well as other magnates of the time. Proof of their friendship can be found in the Bishop’s choice of de Tost as executor of his will on October 22nd 1040.17 In this document, Eribau left him the custody of his nephew, the future Viscount Ramon Folc, after the assassination of his father Folc. Arnau also dealt personally with placing the young man in good standing with the Count of Urgell Ermengol III. Eribau died in the monastery of Pomposa in Italy, on his pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 1040. His vacancy in the Urgell bishopric was filled precisely by the prime suspect in the death of his brother Folc: Guillem Guifré. Guillem was the son of Count Guifré II of Cerdanya and of Guisla18 and he proclaimed himself Bishop after his brother Guifré, Archbishop of Narbonne, had paid the Countess of Urgell, Constança, the exaggerated

14

ACU, n. 331, copy from the 13th century; n. 332, copy from the 13th century, LDEU, I, f. 183r-v (doc. n. 574); Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1036-1050, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, pp. 62-63 (doc. n. 525). 15 ACU, copy from the ninth century, n. 2; copy from the end of the 12th century; copy from the 13th century, LDEU, I, f. 12 (doc. n. 17); Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies del Bisbat d’Urgell (segles IX-XII)”, pp. 50-53 (doc. n. 2). 16 Joan Blasi, “L’acta de la Seu d’Urgell”, Els oblidats comtes de Cerdanya (7981117) (Sant Vicenç de Castellet: El Farell Edicions, 1999), p. 59. 17 ADG, Fornells, original parchment, n. 40; ACU, copy from the thirteenth century ; LDEU, I, f. 20 r-20v (doc. n. 27); Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1036-1050, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, pp. 63-66 (doc. n. 527). 18 de Fluvià, “Els comtes del comtat d’Urgell”, p. 54.

38

The Bishopric of Urgell in the Second Half of the 11th Century

and therefore dubious quantity of one hundred thousand solidus.19 Regardless of the actual sum, the amount paid would have had to have been high to convince the Countess, taking into account the good relationship between Ramon Folc de Cardona and the House of Urgell. Regarding his pastoral performance, the consecration of a number of churches in the counties of Cerdanya (Sant Serni de Targasona), Pallars (Santa Maria de Senterada...), Urgell (Sant Pere d’Alòs...) and especially that of Santa Maria de Solsona in 107020 should be mentioned. Paradoxically, Guillem Guifré attended the Council of Girona in 106821 even though the aim of the Council was to introduce the Gregorian Reform into the Catalan region, something which his brother, the Archbishop of Narbonne, was a staunch opponent of. This demonstrates his ability to adapt to the circumstances of the time. He was assassinated by “secular men” in January 1075, perhaps in revenge for his role as an instigator in the death of Viscount Folc de Cardona.22 With regard to the family of the new bishop, Bernat Guillem, he was the son of the Viscount of Urgell Guillem Miró and Ermengarda, the sister of Count Guillem II of Pallars Jussà and therefore the daughter of Counts Sunyer I and Ermengarda.23 This is important because he is the first documented Bishop to break the rule of the viscounties of Osona-Cardona and Conflent, who had been the main “suppliers” of bishops for the Urgell See since the middle of the 10th century. This prelate gave way to the descent of the bishops of Pallars, whose last representative is found in the long pontificate of Bishop Ot. Once Bernat Guillem was consecrated as a bishop in Rome by Pope Gregory VII –making him a bishop of the Reform–, he sent Folc de Cardona as a delegate to the Council of Girona in 1078.

19

Baraut, Castells, Marquès and Moliné, “Episcopologi de l’Església d’Urgell, segles VI-XX”, p. 42. 20 Original lost. Partial copy from the 18th century: BC, ms. Jaume Pasqual, Sacrae Antiquitatis Cathaloniae Monumenta, VIII, p. 356; Baraut, “Les actes de consagració d’esglésies del Bisbat d’Urgell (s. IX-XII)”, p. 148 (doc. n. 69). 21 Baraut, Castells, Marquès and Moliné, “Episcopologi de l’Església d’Urgell, segles VI-XXI”, p. 43 (citation 42). 22 Pierre Bonnassie, “Una societat en crisi (1020-1060)”, Catalunya mil anys enrera (Barcelona: Edicions 62, 1979), II, p. 19. 23 de Fluvià, “Els comtes del comtat d’Urgell”, p. 168.

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Also noteworthy is the impetus he gave to the Rule of St. Augustine in the Seu d’Urgell, Solsona and Cardona, and to the foundation of new canonical communities like Montmagastre, Tremp and Organyà.24 This Bishop did not hesitate to support the military campaigns of Count Ermengol IV against the Muslims in the Ribagorza region, as in the case of Calasanç Castle.25 In return, this allowed him to add new regions to the Conca de Barberà, like the castles of Barberà and Forés.26 After his death in 1092 in unclear circumstances, two candidates were put forward for the bishopric: on the one hand, Guillen Arnau de Montferrer, son of one of the most powerful magnates of the region, Arnau Dacó, who was married to Ermengarda, the daughter of the Viscounts of Pallars;27 and, on the other, Folc de Cardona, the son of the Viscounts Folc and Guisla and Bishop Eribau’s nephew.28 In fact, Guillem Arnau was chosen after he made an important donation of assets to the religious community29 in 1085. In any case, on Arnau’s death in 1095, Folc renounced his claims and facilitated a new choice: that of Bishop Ot, while the following year Folc was documented as being the Bishop of Barcelona.30 Concerning Bishop Ot –the patron of the Seu d’Urgell– it is known that he was the son of Counts Artau and Llúcia of Pallars Sobirà.31 In 1095, he attended the Council of Clermont, where the First Crusade was promulgated and Pope Urban II ratified him as a bishop in the city of Rome. In spite of this, he could not prevent the new Pope Paschal II from listening to the complaints of the Bishop of Roda about several areas in dispute in Pallars and Ribagorza. This conflict was not finally resolved until 1140, with the diocese of Urgell definitively losing its influence over that of Roda. So, under the guidance of the Counts of Pallars, Arnau and Artall, Ramon Pere d’Erill, 24

Baraut, Castells, Marquès and Moliné, “Episcopologi de l’Església d’Urgell, segles VI-XX”, p. 44. 25 Ignasi Puig, “L’ascendència pallaresa dels bisbes d’Urgell Bernat Guillem (1076-1092) i Guillem Arnau de Montferrer (1092-1095)”, Urgellia, 3 (1980), p. 186. 26 Baraut, Castells, Marquès and Moliné, “Episcopologi de l’Església d’Urgell, segles VI-XX”, p. 44. 27 de Fluvià, “Els comtes del comtat d’Urgell”, p. 212. 28 de Fluvià, “Els comtes del comtat d’Urgell”, p. 158. 29 ACU n. 648; Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1076-1092, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, Urgellia, 7 (1984-1985), pp. 131-132 (doc. n. 1011). 30 Baraut, Castells, Marquès and Moliné, “Episcopologi de l’Església d’Urgell, segles VI-XX”, p. 46. 31 de Fluvià, “Els comtes del comtat d’Urgell”, p. 92.

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The Bishopric of Urgell in the Second Half of the 11th Century

the Abbot of Sant Serni de Tavèrnoles and Berenguer from the Church of Lavaix, and with the approval of the Bishops of Urgell and Roda, Pere and Gausfred, Guillem, Archbishop of Arle established the limits of the two dioceses. With this provision, the churches of the Boí and Senet valleys, the church of Sant Martí d’Areny and all others located in the Pallars and Urgell counties beyond the Noguerola River belonged to the diocese of Urgell. The church of Sant Esteve de la Sarga32 was added to these. Among other churches, Bishop Ot consecrated Santa Maria de Guissona in 1098. The act was attended by the bishops of Barcelona and Roda (Folc and Ponç respectively), as well as by Counts Ermengol V of Urgell, Artau II of Pallars and other canons and magnates of the time.33 Given the military tradition of the Urgell bishops, and that he likely saw no other choice, Ot supported Count Ermengol V in his military campaign, which ended with the first conquest of the city of Balaguer in 1102. This brought an important donation from the Count34 to the religious community. Ot also signed an agreement with Count Pere Ramon I of Pallars Jussà by which the count promised to place a military contingent wherever and whenever he wished35 if he was attacked by the Saracens in Spain.

2. The Advance of Parochialisation and the Strengthening of the Church’s Position in the Region Parishes (from the Greek word paroikia, meaning a neighbourhood or group of houses) were created for some specific needs or, in most cases, by the will of a layman or clergyman. At their helm, stood the parrocus

32

ACU, original parchment, n. 928; Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1101-1150, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, Urgellia, 9 (1988-1989), pp. 273-274 (doc. n. 1469). 33 Original lost, ACU, copy from the back cover of the consecration of churches, n. 32; Baraut, “Les actes de consagració d’esglésies del Bisbat d’Urgell (s. IX-XII)”, pp. 162-165 (doc. n. 75). 34 ACU, n. 784, copy from the 12th century; n.785; copy from the 12th century; n. 786; copy from the thirteenth century; LDEU, I, f. 24v-25r (doc. n. 32); Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1101-1150, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, pp. 30-32 (doc. n. 1200). 35 ACU, copy from the 13th century; LDEU, I, f. 185v (doc. n. 581); Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1101-1150, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, pp. 174-175 (doc. n. 1349).

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and they depended directly on a bishop, monastery or religious community, or a layman.36 The intense building work throughout the 11th century can be seen, according to the documentation, in the large number of consecrations and bequests found in wills to be used for building or implementing projects and work on churches. These sources also highlight the large number of donations of private churches37 to the Urgell See, particularly after the second half of the 11th century. This advance of parochialisation undoubtedly meant the strengthening of the Church’s position and especially that of the religious community of Urgell and its heads in the region. From this time of reformation onwards, and especially after the bishopric of Guillem Guifré, it became the aim to place a secular and celibate clergy at the helm of these parishes to avoid the distribution of the church’s patrimony and particularly that of the religious community, because it was absolutely impossible for the biological children of priests to inherit.38 As well as strengthening its position, these clergy were also responsible for imposing and proselytising a social model inspired by monogamous, indissoluble and exogenous marriage.39

3. The Consolidation of the Church as the only Intercessor between Man and God As could only be expected, the strengthening and reorganisation of the Church consolidated the clergy’s position as the only intercessor between man and God. What is more, the Church had some deterrent resources at its disposal once its position as the only intercessor in front of God, the excommunication’s penalty, which consisted of eternal exclusion from the

36

Antoni Pladevall, “Les institucions i organitzacions de l’església catalana”, Analecta Sacra Tarraconensia, 67/1 (1994), p. 191. 37 In this sense, the document from 1046 is paradigmatic with regard to the parishes, castles, freeholds… Arnau Mir de Tost owned in fief of the Church of Urgell and by donation from successive bishops and which he, his wife or his descendents could bequeath to whomever they pleased. ACU, n. 376; Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1036-1050, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, pp. 125-126 (doc. n. 596). 38 Flocel Sabaté, “El papel de la Iglesia”, La feudalización de la sociedad catalana (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2007), pp. 211-212. 39 Flocel Sabaté, “Evolució i expressió de la sexualitat medieval”, Anuario de Estudios Medievales, 23 (1993), pp. 164-166.

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The Bishopric of Urgell in the Second Half of the 11th Century

Church with everything this implied for the afterlife and the present; given that it seemed to mean being completely excluded from the society.40 This weapon, exclusively in the hands of the Church, was, on the one hand, very effective at preventing laymen selling offices, and on the other, at stopping them intervening in the appointment of clergy. As can be seen in the sources, this resulted in magnates and lords returning a large number of churches and patrimony to the Church of Urgell. So we see in 1079, for example, that, having been subjected to excommunication –[...] miserunt eum sub anathematis vincula [...]–, Count Sunyer Artau I of Pallars not only agreed, at the request of Bishop Bernat, to confirm control of the town of Sort by the Church of Santa Maria de la Seu but also acknowledged that he had unjustly usurped it.41 Examples of this are abundant in the county of Urgell. One of the cases refers to Pere, son of Arnau, Lord of Ponts, who in 1098 acknowledged unjust possession of the church of Sant Pere, as well as having carried out acts of simony there, like his father and his grandfather before him [...] ut dedissem eam simoniace ad capellanum qualemcumque voluissem propter pecuniam quam a capellano accepissem sicut anteriores mei pater et avus fecerunt [...]. Once warned by Father Adalbert that his father had relinquished any rights he could have had, which involved the punishment of excommunication –anathematis vinculo–, he surrendered it to the religious community of Sant Pere. In exchange, he received, unam optimam mulam from this institution, equivalent to 30 ounces of Valencian gold.42 Only the clergy had the authority to pardon sin. In fact, most of the documentation preserved refers to both pious donations and those with a usufruct whose beneficiary is the religious community of Urgell. It is clear, however, that this monopoly on forgiving sins also involved a lot of returns and donations of assets to religious centres, inspired by the fear of reaching the afterlife without having redeemed bad deeds.

40

Sabaté, “El papel de la Iglesia”, p. 225. ACU, n. 593, copy from the 11th century, n. 594; copy from the 13th century, LDEU, I, f. 192r-192v (doc. n. 609); Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1076-1092, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, pp. 58-59 (doc. n. 926). 42 ACU, copy from the 13th century; LDEU, I, f. 182r (doc. n. 569); Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1093-1100, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, p. 93 (doc. n. 1164). 41

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4. The Control of Justice and Writing and the Church’s Consolidation and Acquisition of New Rights The Liber Iudicorum was still the basis of legal order in the second half of the 11th century. Not surprisingly, some sentences refer to its sections, although this usage bears no resemblance to that of the first half of the century, which was a very prolific period with regard to the number of citations that referred to this Liber.43 In any case, taking into account that the Church rarely lost a lawsuit, the use of justice and the clergy’s sole domain of writing were also keys to this institution obtaining many assets through litigation and various rights held over other properties. Moreover, the documentation that refers to verdicts in the second half of the 11th century is scarcer than in the first half. One of the few surviving examples in the county of Urgell relates to a hearing held on May 28th 1097. The dispute was about part of a freehold in Somont, which Miró Isarn had unjustly seized according to the canons of Santa Maria. The former testified that he owned the freehold through different purchases his father had made in that place and other provisions [...] per comparaciones quas pater eius inde fecerat sive per alias voces [...]. After judge Guillem Guitart had deemed the documents presented by Miró Isarn to be inanes et invalidas, and the deeds presented by the canons as stabiles et firmas, Miró Isarn relinquished the freehold to the new Bishop Ot and the religious community of Santa Maria.44

5. Convenientiae: A New Legal Model as a Tool for Resolving Disputes Faced with a crisis in public justice, private agreements started to be used over the century as a means of resolving conflicts, particularly those relating to the administration of society. This process led to the emergence of a new type of document: the convenientiae.45 43

Michel Zimmermann, “L’usage du droit wisighotique en Catalogne du IXe au XIIe siècle: Approches d’une signification culturelle”, Mélanges de la Casa de Velázquez, 9 (1973), pp. 244-247. 44 ACU, copy from the thirteenth century ; LDEU, I, f. 141v-142r (doc. n. 425); Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1093-1100, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, p. 81 (doc. n. 1151). 45 Flocel Sabaté, “Una nueva estructura política y territorial”, La feudalización de la sociedad catalana, p. 57.

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The Bishopric of Urgell in the Second Half of the 11th Century

The oldest document of this kind to reach us is an agreement between Count Berenguer Ramon I of Barcelona and Count Ermengol II of Urgell dated from 1021, according to Adam J. Kosto.46 While relatively few documents are preserved from the first half of the 11th century, there are many examples from the second half. In the Urgell region, the convenientiae between Count Ermengol II and Bishop Ermengol47 is notable for its antiquity. One of the most noteworthy new characteristics of most of these documents was the use of the heading formula Hec est convenientiae [...], although the word convenientiae might appear after the beginning of the text or even in the eschatocol. In the last fifty years of the 11th century, the main character in most of the convenientiae is Bishop Guillem Guifré. Like any feudal lord, he did not hesitate to assign castles and churches as fiefs in return for certain services. One of the many examples can be found in the convenientiae of 1052 between the Bishop and Ponç Ramon and his mother Arsenda. Both were solidus vassals of the Bishop who granted them tenure of the Church of Sant Genís d’Err in return for the provision of certain feudal services, such as participation in hosts and cavalcades at the request of the head of Urgell.48 The successors of Guillem Guifré also appeared in this kind of document. Due to its origin in the Pallars, reference should be made to that in which Bishop Bernat, Count Sunyer Artau I’s first cousin and his son Count Artau II of Pallars Sobirà are involved. In the document, Artau II of Pallars Sobirà promised to return the Church of Santa Maria d’Àneu and the town of Lleret to Santa Maria d’Urgell, in exchange for the Bishop agreeing to lift the excommunication on the Count’s late father, Sunyer Artau I, and allowing the dead count to be buried in a sacred place. With a pledge of three hundred ounces, Artau II undertook to fulfil the agreement 46

Adam J. Kosto, Making Agreements in Medieval Catalonia. Power, Order, and the Written Word, 1000-1200 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), p. 64. 47 ACU, copy from the thirteenth century; LDEU, I, f. 178 (doc. n. 543); Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1010-1035, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, Urgellia, 4 (1981), pp. 184-185 (doc. n. 486). When transcribing it Baraut placed the year 1024 as the possible date of the document between question marks. On the other hand, Adam J. Kosto establishes the chronological spectrum between the years 1011-1035. Kosto, Making Agreements in Medieval Catalonia. Power, Order, and the Written Word, 1000-1200, p. 68. 48 ACU, copy from the 13th century; LDEU, I, 202v (doc. n. 662); Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1051-1075, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, Urgellia, 6 (1983), pp. 36-37 (doc. n. 651).

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before the feast of the Assumption, and to be a faithful defender and protector of the church in his county.49

6. “Sins” to be reformed by the Church: Simony and the Clergy’s Celibacy. The Council of Girona in 1068 The historiography has traditionally presented the Gregorian reform as a pressing need for a Church besieged by all kinds of spiritual and material vices: simony and the concubinage of the clergy were the order of the day at this time of maximum tension between temporal and papal power. However, this reform signalled a plan for a broad reorganisation in Rome and the Church in general that enabled this institution to further increase its power in the pyramidal-structure of society: at the helm is the figure head of Rome (and his bishops), who would end up asserting his authority over the ruling political party in the investiture struggle. This hegemony reached its peak at the beginning of the 13th century with Pope Innocent III, who was a true arbiter of the politics of the time and the head of pontifical power in medieval Europe.50 In the Catalan region, the starting point, or at least the first attempt to impose the criteria of Rome, can be found in the Councils of Girona in 106851 and 1077, where many decisions were settled in this sense. Undoubtedly one of the greatest concerns of the Church was to prevent the spread of its assets, which the implementation of this reform contributed to halting. So, the Council of 1068 condemned the sale of Church offices and also banned the inheritance of fiefs that had to be returned to the relevant ecclesiastical institution on the death of the donor. Moreover, it stipulated that at least a quarter of the tithe of any form of production (cereal or wine crops, mills, orchards, etc.) should be kept for the maintenance of the clergy.52 The celibacy of the members of the ecclesiastical institution, strongly defended by successive popes since Clement II in the Council of Sutri in 49 ACU, original parchment, n. 660. Copy from the 13th century; LDEU, I, f. 197 (doc. n. 633); Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1076-1092, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, pp.145-146 (doc. n. 1027). 50 Miguel Ángel Ladero, “Pontificado e iglesia en el s. XIII”, Historia Universal. Edad Media (Barcelona: Vicens Vives, 1987), II, p. 532. 51 Flocel Sabaté, “El tema de estudio”, La feudalitzación de la sociedad catalana, p. 211. 52 Gener Gonzalvo, Les constitucions de Pau i Treva de Catalunya (segles XIXIII) (Barcelona: Departament de Justícia de la Generalitat de Catalunya, 1994), pp. 37-38.

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The Bishopric of Urgell in the Second Half of the 11th Century

1046,53 further contributed to avoiding the spread of assets because, unable to have legitimate descendents, the clergy had no choice but to accept that they were only the custodians of property54 which had to remain in the Church. In the Council of Girona, it was agreed that this would be mandatory for all clergymen, from the condition of readers onwards, while subdeacons and senior clerics with a wife or concubine were reduced to the lay state.55 As regards the bishopric of Urgell, Viage literario a las iglesias de España (“A literary journey to the churches of Spain”) by Father Jaime Villanueva, states that Bishop Guillem Guifré attended the aforementioned Council.56 In any case, this character, who certainly deserves an individualised study and who was defined by Marxist historiography, and particularly by Pierre Bonnassie, as a “...real villain”,57 cannot be exactly considered an advocate of the reform. This is especially true if his behaviour in governing the Church is considered, and his general practise of appointing ecclesiastical offices through simony. In fact, at least for the amount paid reflected in the documentation, his own ascension to the mitre represented the greatest case of simony to arise in the bishopric of Urgell. Not surprisingly, his brother Guifré, Archbishop of Narbonne, who was against the provisions of Rome and boycotted the Council of Girona in 1077, facilitated this appointment by paying the aforementioned one hundred thousand solidus to the Countess of Urgell.58 On the other hand, the choice of his successor Bernat Guillem was explicitly supported by the head of the Church of Rome. So Pope Gregory VII referred to the Bishop of Urgell in a letter of recommendation, cited in the Act of Consecration of the Church of Sant Esteve d’Olius in 1079, as [...] Bernardus sancte Urgellensis ecclesie episcopus, catholice et non 53 Hermann Kinder and Werner Hilgemann, “Imperio Germánico III (1024-1075). Reformas del Papado”, Atlas histótico mundial (Madrid: Ediciones Istmo, 1980), I, p. 153. 54 Mauro Rodríguez, El celibato, ¿Instrumento de gobierno?. ¿Base de una estructura? (Barcelona: Editorial Herder, 1975), pp.148-153. 55 Gonzalvo, Les constitucions de Pau i Treva de Catalunya (segles XI-XIII), pp. 37-38. 56 Baraut, Castells, Marquès and Moliné, “Episcopologi de l’Església d’Urgell, segles VI-XXI”, p. 43. 57 Bonnassie, “Una societat en crisi (1020-1060)”, II , p. 19. 58 Baraut, Castells, Marquès and Moliné, “Episcopologi de l’Església d’Urgell, segles VI-XXI”, p. 42.

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simoniace in episcopali honore intronizatus et a papa romano apud Roman honorifice ac strenue signatus et unctus.59 Regarding the reformist offensive and tutelage of Rome, there is proof in other texts. One of these is the Act of Consecration, performed between 1077 and 1078 at the churches of Sant Pere and Santa Maria de Taltaüll in the Segarra, by the papal legate Amat d’Oleró.60

Conclusions As an epilogue, note that the time frame of the present study, restricted to the second half of the 11th century, should be considered as another stage within the ongoing feudal process of the church of Urgell. This necessarily implies the consolidation of its position and its rights. At the same time, it is an attempt to reorganise the same institution under the Roman reform, although with some delay compared to other territories due to the aforementioned opposition from, among others, the prelate of Urgell, Guillem Guifré (1041-1075). In fact, for the first half of the 12th century the documentary sources point not merely to a continuation, but to a gradual acceleration of these parallel processes. In this sense, there was an increase in the examples which demonstrate the church’s ability to both influence and obtain their rights through the use of the justice system on the one hand and their own unique level of written competence on the other, as well as through the use of the effective weapon, the threat of excommunication, held by being the only intercessor between God and man. Proof of this can be found in the large number of documents that refer to refunds of property, whose beneficiary was this institution. The sources for this period also confirm a significant increase in the usage of the agreement embodied in the “convenientiae”, the quintessential feudal document, as a means of settling disputes not only among laymen, but also between secular and ecclesiastics and those featuring exclusively members of the latter group, especially bishops and abbots. Despite the obstacles to the implementation of the Roman reform carried out by Guillem Guifré and his brother, the anti-reformist Archbishop of Narbonne, on which the diocese of Urgell depended, we 59

ACS, n. 211; Cebrià Baraut, “Les actes de consagració d’esglésies del Bisbat d’Urgell (s. IX-XII), de l’Arxiu Capitular de Solsona”, Urgellia, 1 (1978), pp. 148150 (doc. n. 70). 60 Original lost. ACU, report, LDEU (13th century), I, f. 174 (doc. n. 524); Cebrià Baraut, “Set actes més de consagracions d’esglésies del Bisbat d’Urgell (segles IX -i XII)”, Urgellia, 2 (1979), pp. 485-486 (doc. n. 2).

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The Bishopric of Urgell in the Second Half of the 11th Century

have already pointed out that the germ of it started in the councils of Girona in 106861 and 1077.62 At the latter meeting, the provisions against the simony established in the previous council were reiterated and extended, a fact that would demonstrate the failure of the first to implement measures to eradicate this practice with all its consequences, already described, for the institution. One of these effects, the subjection of the church to secular power, would be fought from Rome, especially by the great instigator of the First Crusade, the Pope Urban II. For the church of Urgell, the two papal bulls, dated respectively 6th and 19th April 1099, are clear evidence of this. In the first, apart from confirming the rights and properties of the canonical of Urgell, the Pope also declared it exempt from any secular power, remaining exclusively under Episcopal authority.63 In the second, the head of Rome confirmed the possessions and privileges of the monastery of Sant Serni de Tavèrnoles and claimed it not only to be free of any secular or ecclesiastical authority, but also subject to the Holy See, which would also receive an annual census fixed at a pound of silver as recognition from the monastery.64

61

Antolín Merino and José de la Canal, España Sagrada (Madrid: Imprenta de Collado, 1819), XLIII, pp. 231-233. 62 Merino and de la Canal, España Sagrada, XLIII, p. 237. 63 ACU, copy from the thirteenth century; LDEU, I, f. 16v (doc. n. 23); Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1093-1100, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, Urgellia, 8 (1986-1987), pp. 98-99 (doc. n. 1070). 64 ACU, notarised copy of 1941, scroll. Tavèrnoles, n. 23; lost copy from the 18th Century, from a 1401 copy, LB, f. 18r; Cebrià Baraut, “Diplomatari del monestir de Sant Sadurní de Tavèrnoles segles IX-XIII”, Urgellia, 12 (1994-1995), pp. 181-182 (doc. n. 109).

PECULIARITIES OF THE BISHOPRIC OF URGELL TH TH IN THE 10 AND 11 CENTURIES1 FERNANDO ARNÓ-GARCÍA DE LA BARRERA UNIVERSITAT DE LLEIDA

For little Álvaro This article aims to analyse some of the peculiarities of the bishopric of Urgell in relation to the other dioceses of the Catalan counties. Emphasis will be given to various aspects of its administration as an institution and its internal organisation: its fiscal and tax structures, and the relationships it formed with other institutions and close powers.

1. The bishopric of Urgell The bishopric of Urgell of the 10th and 11th centuries was the largest of all those in the Catalan county arch, including the areas beyond the county’s boundaries. So, the bishops of Urgell had spiritual jurisdiction over large areas ranging from the valley of Gistau in the Ribagorza County through the Pyrenean valleys of Àneu and Andorra to the vicinity of the Ripollès County. Therefore, their reach included areas in the counties of Ribagorza, Pallars, Urgell, Cerdanya and Berga. What is more, the Urgell See was adjacent to the newly created bishopric of Roda de Isábena, which was subordinated to it, and to the diocese of Girona and especially to that of Vic with which it competed to establish boundaries. Its large jurisdictional area, coupled with the above, and its involvement in the spiritual issues of districts politically controlled by various groups and families, meant that the bishopric of Urgell was seen as an important institution and attracted a large amount of political, social and economic interest from other institutions and the political and economic elites. In addition, it should be noted that the bishopric of Urgell 1

Abbreviations used: ACU, Arxiu Capitular d’Urgell; AEV, Arxiu Episcopal de Vic; LDEU, Liber Dotaliorum Ecclesie Urgellensis.

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Peculiarities of the Bishopric of Urgell in the 10th and 11th Centuries

had a long border and a possibly significant southern influence, since, in the absence of new forms of administration, all the land conquered by the counties of Pallars, Urgell and Berga (the expansion mark of the County of Cerdanya), would be naturally managed and run by those in charge of the Urgell See. So, here is a large, or even very large diocese which also had the opportunity to greatly expand its scope and influence due to its southern border encompassing areas between the enclave of Cardona and the Aragonese Ribagorza.

Figure 1: Map of the Catalan counties. The grey area corresponds to the maximum extension of the Bishopric of Urgell (9th-10th centuries).

Not only should emphasis be placed on the territorial scope of the bishopric of Urgell, but also on the enormous institutional efforts made to preserve and demarcate its own district. This was because, since the 9th century, the bishops of Urgell had been tremendously interested in receiving precepts from a higher authority –Popes or emperors and Carolingian Kings– confirming assets, properties and rights. On that subject, we must mention the royal precept of Charlemagne, at the

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beginning of the 9th century.2 Also worth mentioning are the two precepts of his son Louis, firstly as a king of Aquitaine, and later as an emperor in the first quarter of the same century,3 and additionally, the precept of Charles the Bald, in 860,4 and finally, the papal bulls issued by the popes Agapetus II,5 Silvester II6 and Bendict II.7 However, it’s important to state that the bishopric of Urgell is not the only one that received precepts and papal bulls in the Catalan earldom, but the bishoprics of Barcelona, Vic and Girona also confirmed their goods, properties and rights this way. Therefore, they undertook a huge task to compile and confirm assets and rights, and an obvious effort to bring order and efficiency to the management of an extremely large administration. Politically, it should be noted that, during the last decades of the 9th century and throughout the 10th century, the county of Urgell was administered by the noble family of Barcelona, which also governed the counties of Girona and Osona. The emergence of Urgell’s own dynasty of counts is not clear until the end of the 10th or beginning of the 11th century, with Count Borrell II handing over power to his son Ermengol I, who established his own lineage. This political link between various counties, encompassed within a family unit, benefited the bishopric of Urgell in various ways.

2. Singular characteristics of the bishopric of Urgell 2. 1. Particularities on an institutional level Institutionally, the model of cursus honorum used to provide the Episcopal chair of the diocese of Urgell is surprising, because it is much 2

Ramon d’Abadal, Catalunya carolingia. Els diplomes carolingis a Catalunya (Geneva: Institució Patxot, 1926-1952), II, pp. 279-280 (doc. n. 1). 3 Abadal, Catalunya carolingia, II, p. 281 (doc. n. 2); ACU, copy from the 13th century, LDEU I, f. 13bis-r (doc. n. 16); Cebrià Baraut, Cartulari de la vall d’Andorra, segles IX-XIII (Andorra: Govern d’Andorra, 1988), pp. 90-92 (doc. n. 2). 4 ACU, figurated copy from the 10th century, n. 10; Baraut, Cartulari de la vall d’Andorra, pp. 93-95 (doc. n. 4). 5 ACU, papal bulls, n. 1; Baraut, Cartulari de la vall d’Andorra, pp. 105-107 (doc. n. 11). 6 ACU, papal bulls, n. 3; Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents dels anys 981-1010, de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, Urgellia, 3 (1980), pp. 100-101 (doc. n. 271). 7 ACU, papal bulls, n. 4; Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents dels anys 1010-1035 de l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell”, Urgellia, 4 (1981), pp. 38-40 (doc. n. 324).

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Peculiarities of the Bishopric of Urgell in the 10th and 11th Centuries

more extreme than the system in the other bishoprics of the Catalan county arch. Regarding the study of access to a position of Episcopal office in the Catalan bishoprics of the 10th and 11th centuries, there are various stages that, in a wave-like fashion, enabled the introduction of a provisioning model that met the social, political and economical changes of the Catalan county arch for that particular period. Therefore, note that initially, from the last third of the 9th century and during the first half of the 10th century, there is a certain gap in the documentation that reveals nothing about the origin or rise of the people who became bishops. Except for some specific cases,8 it is difficult to perform individual monitoring to know whether their rise to office was due to spiritual merits or, on the other hand, more related to political or “class” motives among the dominant groups. In any case, the simple fact that it is difficult to trace the origin of many of the bishops of the Catalan county arch through documents, because they were hardly mentioned before appointment and did not create any personal documentation referring to assets, seems significant enough to suggest that their origins could well have stemmed from the middle classes of the society of the time. So, it is reasonable to think that their rise could be due to a certain meritocracy and not related to any specific family or institutional policy. The second stage commenced towards the second half of the 10th century, after the documental boom witnessed from the decade of 940-950 onwards.9 This started a certain “revolution” in documentation: the number of documents grew exponentially and, with them, grew the chance to get closer to the people and offices mentioned. However, before examining this second stage, an effort should be made to delve deeper into the historical context, in accordance with the quantity of documents and the issues they raise. This period is characterised by very significant social and political changes which reveal interesting dynamics that will surely have been linked to the institutions of the time and, therefore, with the bishoprics of north-eastern Spain. These encompass the territorialisation of the post of Viscount, its specific connection with cross-county boundaries, the creation of viscounties that were bequeathed to family members and the 8

Take, for example, Bishop Radulfo de Urgell, son of Wilfred the Hairy. Following the chronological records of the documents that we have used for this study, we assert that we have employed four hundred documents for the whole 9th century, one thousand documents for the first half of the 10th century, whereas we have found almost three thousand documents for the second half of the 10th century which were preserved in archives and libraries. 9

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creation of viscounty family freeholds.10 Other significant changes included the progressive creation of local feudal estates, especially in the first decades of the 11th century, reinforcing the aforementioned territorialisation and creation of family and noble freeholds that privatised posts and honours. In summary, on a political scale, these dynamics represented the fragmentation of civil power and a progressive territorialisation, which started to affect religious institutions once the new intermediate powers had seen in the Church a chance to consolidate and expand their rights and assets. Therefore, these new processes initiated in the second half of the 10th century, which are perfectly reflected in the documentation, enabled the reformulation of political and religious institutions and, indirectly, the establishment of a new kind of relationship between the office of bishop and its form of provision.11 Regarding the second stage of this study of the provision of the Episcopal chair, a new scene can be witnessed: the abundance of new intermediate powers, their need to consolidate and grow, and the normal idiosyncrasy of the bishoprics of the Catalan county arch (their systematic reception of assets and rights; their power to govern over newly-conquered areas; their jurisdiction over cross-county territories) proved an explosive cocktail that distorted what could until then have been a system of clerical promotion based on merit. All the bishoprics in north-eastern Spain had rich and varied estates at this time –the second half of the 10th century, but the lands of the dioceses of Barcelona, Vic and Urgell also bordered on the frontier and, therefore, were concerned with the spiritual and tributary management of

10 It is precisely that period of the formation of the viscount dynasties of Alt Urgell, of Conflent, of Girona and Barcelona, among others. It is not the fact that there were no viscounts in those territories, but it was precisely in this decade when the transfer of the position between the members of the same family was confirmed. See: Armand de Fluvià, Els primitius comtats i vescomtats de Catalunya: cronologia de comtes i vescomtes (Barcelona: Enciclopèdia Catalana, 1989). 11 Flocel Sabaté, L’expansió territorial de Catalunya (segles IX-XII): Conquesta o repoblació? (Lleida: Publicacions de la Universitat de Lleida, 1996); Flocel Sabaté, “La castralització de l'espai en l'estructuració d'un territori conquerit (Urgell, Pla d'Urgell, Garrigues i Segrià)”, Urtx: Revista cultural de l'Urgell, 11 (1998), pp. 7-40; Flocel Sabaté, “La feudalització de la societat catalana”, El temps i l’espai del feudalisme, coord. by Flocel Sabate and Joan Farré (Lleida: Pagès Editors, 2004), pp. 221-405.

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Peculiarities of the Bishopric of Urgell in the 10th and 11th Centuries

all those new areas susceptible to being conquered.12 So, being anxious to consolidate and eager to grow, the new intermediate powers saw the Episcopal chairs as a trampoline to project and place them into a sphere of greater power and influence.13 These new circumstances and needs imposed two basic conditions on the members of the families belonging to this new group: obtaining high ecclesiastical posts within the different dioceses of the county arch, and preferably that of Bishop; and joining the hierarchy without the individual losing his secular nature or promoting spiritual or religious ties or obligations that could jeopardise family goals. The only valid way to do so was to deform some ecclesiastical positions of a secular nature or those belonging to the twilight area of the lower orders. This is why, from the last third of the 10th century onwards, the provision of the Episcopal chair in the bishoprics of the Catalan county arch transmuted to a schema which would be repeated and with an inkling of secular interference, especially relating to a viscounty, within religious 12

The County of Barcelona increased its territory by 1,900 square kilometres in the 10th century and 600 square kilometres a century later, all this area being administered by this county’s diocese. The County of Manresa (expansion mark of the County of Osona), increased its territory by 820 square kilometres in the 10th century and 1,050 square kilometres in the 11th, this area being under the jurisdiction of the diocese of Sant Pere de Vic. The County of Urgell increased its territory by 1,050 square kilometres in the 10th century and 2,150 square kilometres a century later. Moreover, the County of Berga (mark of the expansion of the County of Cerdanya) also increased by 150 square kilometres in the 10th century and 140 square kilometres the following century, all these being areas of Urgell and Berga managed by the diocese of Santa María de Urgell. Flocel Sabaté, El territori de la Catalunya medieval (Barcelona: Fundació Salvador Vives i Casajuana, 1997), p. 377. 13 The list of the members of those families within the episcopal and monastic hierarchies is very wide. One only has to review the published episcopacy records to verify that, from the middle of the 10th century onward, many of the chairs were occupied by members of viscount families. On that subject, see: Cebrià Baraut, “Episcopologi d'Urgell”, Catalunya Romànica. (Barcelona: Enciclopèdia Catalana, 1992), VI (L'Alt Urgell), p. 48; Josep Baucells, “El bisbat i els bisbes de Barcelona”, Catalunya Romànica. (Barcelona: Enciclopèdia Catalana, 1992), XX (El Barcelonès, el Baix Llobregat i el Maresme), pp. 48-55; Benigne Marquès, “Els bisbes d'Urgell anteriors al 1300”, Catalunya Romànica. VI, pp. 49-53; Antoni Pladevall, “Els bisbes del segle XI”, Catalunya Romànica. (Barcelona: Enciclopèdia Catalana, 1992), II (Osona.I), p. 44; Jordi Vigué, “Els bisbes de Vic anteriors al 1300”, Catalunya Romànica.II, pp. 46-47; Pere Ponsich, “Els bisbes d'Elna anteriors al 1300”, Catalunya Romànica. (Barcelona: Enciclopèdia Catalana, 1993), XIV El Rosselló, pp. 56-58.

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institutions. The proposed schema is based on a detailed study of the Episcopal cursus honorum of the 10th and 11th centuries, and is one of the main axes I based my graduate research on.14 This schema can be defined according to three stages of development and enabled a person from a family linked to the intermediate powers (viscounts, local lords) to go, in a matter of years, from a layman to a bishop. The schema is represented by the triad: sub deacon-Levite15-priest. In short, and to avoid expatiating on this theme, the schema suggests that Bishops like Pedro de Barcelona,16 Atón of Vic17 and Miró Bonfill of Girona18 initially reached power by emerging through two secular offices (that of sub deacon and Levite). Moreover, once they had achieved sufficient relevance to join the hierarchy of a specific bishopric, they could choose whether they wanted to join the priesthood in order to be appointed 14

For details on the proposed schema, please refer to different papers I have presented at various conferences: Fernando Arnó, Frontier and Patrimony among the members of the monacal and episcopal court in the Catalan counties in the 11th century, read at the International Medieval Congress of Leeds in July 2011; Fernando Arnó, Estrategias políticas y económicas del obispado de Urgell en la frontera (siglos X-XI), read at the International Medieval Meeting of Lleida in July 2011. Please also refer to the following publication: Fernando Arnó, “Análisis histórico-semántico como propuesta para el estudio de las estrategias baroniales en el acceso a la cátedra episcopal en la Cataluña de los siglos X-XI”, Historia, Imagen y Lenguaje en América Latina y Europa, ed. by Israel Sanmartín and Eduardo Rey (Santiago de Compostela: Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, 2013), pp. 33-46. 15 The term “Levite” used in this article refers to a post, linked to the Church and related to the diaconate, which constantly appears in early medieval Catalan documentation. Therefore, it should not be confused with other meanings of “Levite”. Although the post of Levite has often been assimilated to that of diaconate, there does not seem to be any relationship between them in the Catalan counties. So, while the diaconate was relegated to pastoral and parish functions and had a clear clerical nature; the post of Levite was linked to secular people who controlled certain exactions or fiscal aspects of the religious institutions. Due to these economical functions, this post would be deformed to a great extent when people linked to the most prominent families of the period joined. 16 Bishop Pedro de Barcelona (959-972) belonged to a family closely linked to the Counts of Barcelona. For this reason the Counts proposed him to occupy the important Episcopal See. 17 Bishop Atón de Vic (957-971), like Pedro de Barcelona, belonged to an important family closely linked to the noble House of Barcelona. 18 Bishop Miró Bonfill de Girona (970-984) was the son of the Counts of Cerdanya-Besalú. Besides being Bishop, he became Count of Besalú upon the death of his brothers.

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Peculiarities of the Bishopric of Urgell in the 10th and 11th Centuries

bishops or not. Therefore, the schema suggests the existence of some interference that, although it cannot be branded simoniacal, since the post was not expressly bought, does seem to indicate that meritocracy was doomed to disappear and that the only requisite for access to the post came from the family ties of the deceased. The schema was imposed quite quickly in the dioceses of the Catalan county area, so that by the end of the 10th century it already seemed to be fully consolidated, suggesting it would be the operating mode of future decades. However, in the diocese of Urgell, there is a truly remarkable particularity. Although it has been stated that the proposed model could not be labelled simoniacal in Barcelona, Vic or Girona, in the case of Urgell, the schema presents an extreme and radical reformulation where simony found a place and, what is more, is recorded in documents. For the provision of the chair of the Bishop of Urgell, the schema ‘sub deacon-Levite-priest’ must have seemed uninspiring and, thus, a more radical and quicker model was chosen which avoided the rigidities of the triad. So, when the Viscounts of Conflent began to notice the bishopric of Urgell from the last third of the 10th century onwards as a means of consolidating and expanding their power, they preferred to avoid joining the twilight zone represented by the post of sub deacon. Furthermore, not being content with that, they also preferred to avoid the necessary (although optional) link19 to the priesthood upon joining this order. Therefore, the schema became tremendously simple, yet just as effective, if not more so: the candidate for Bishop only had to fulfil the role of Levite and optionally purchase the chair from the Count of Urgell. This particularity of Urgell can be found in two bishops who, curiously, were the most important for this diocese in the 10th and 11th centuries: Salla (981-1010) and his successor, Ermengol (1010-1035).20 They both belonged to the viscounty family of Conflent and are both recorded in the documents as Levites, then as arch-Levites and finally as bishops. In the case of Ermengol, the situation is even more extreme because there is a specific record of the purchase of the post: dated around 19

I say it is a necessary, although optional, link to priesthood because upon joining the clergy, and once having completed the steps prior to joining the hierarchy of a specific bishopric, one was not supposed to excessively show his hand, so as not to be overly transparent in dishonest dealings which, if discovered, could have caused hostilities with rival groups or great anger within the religious institution in which they occurred. By anaesthetising rival groups or the hierarchy of the institution by pretending to join the priesthood, one could rise to the episcopal seat without being too obvious and without giving up almost any of the earthly whims of a layman. 20 He was later elevated to Sainthood.

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the year 1003, it states that Salla and Count Ermengol I of Urgell agreed that the bishopric would go to Ermengol in exchange for one hundred pieces of gold.21

2. 2. Particularities on an internal organisational level On the level of internal organisation, the diocese of Urgell also presents certain particularities. The most notable two are firstly, the systematisation of a selective parish network; and, secondly, the subordination of the nearby diocese of San Vicente de Roda de Isábena. Thanks to the wealth of early medieval documentation preserved in archives and libraries, it is known that more than 130 churches were consecrated in the entire Catalan counties arch during this period (830-1030).

Figure 2: Map of the parish consecrations in the Catalan counties (9th-11th centuries), according the bishoprics: blank, Elna; orange, Girona; green, Vic; yellow, Barcelona; red, Urgell; purple, Roda. 21 ACU, n. 163; Jaime Villanueva, Viage literario a las iglesias de España (Madrid: Imprenta Real, 1851), X, pp. 285-287 (section 25).

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Peculiarities of the Bishopric of Urgell in the 10th and 11th Centuries

Among all these consecrated churches, 40 belong to the bishopric of Urgell (nearly a third of the total),22 making this diocese the one where a greater systematisation and quantity of endowments can be seen. However, not only the number but also the distribution of the consecrations is surprising. While the dioceses of Vic, Girona and Roda spread the consecration of their parishes and suffragan dioceses throughout their area of jurisdiction, in the diocese of Urgell there is a very dense and high concentration in one area: the county of Berga.23

22

The ranking is as follows: bishopric of Urgell, 40 consecrations; bishopric of Girona, 25 consecrations; bishopric of Vic, 24 consecrations; bishopric of Roda de Isábena, 23 consecrations; bishopric of Elna, 11 consecrations; bishopric of Barcelona, 6 consecrations. 23 Santa Maria, Sant Pere i Sant Joan del castell de Lillet (833). ACU, Consecrations, n. 1; Cebrià Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies del bisbat d’Urgell (segles IX-XII)”, Urgellia, 1 (1978), p. 49 (doc. n. 1); Sant Martí de Saldes (857). ACU, consecrations, n. 4; Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, pp. 58-59 (doc. n. 5); Sant Andreu de Merlès (871); AEV, col. 2061, plec IV; Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, pp. 59-60 (doc. n. 6); Santa Maria de Merlès (893); AEV, manuscript section, Varii 4, f. 143-144; Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents dels segles IX i X conservats a l’Arxiu Capitular de la Seu d’Urgell, segle IX-1200”, Urgellia, 2 (1979), pp. 484-485 (doc. n. 1); Santa Maria, Sant Serni i Sant Hilari de La Quar (899); ACU, Consecrations, n. 7; Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, pp. 64-65 (doc. n. 9); Santa Maria d'Olvan (899); ACU, copy from the 13th century, LDEU I, f. 239, dc. 810; Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, pp. 65-67 (doc. n. 10); Sant Martí de Biure (899); ACU, copy from the 13th century, LDEU I, f. 239 (815); Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, pp. 73-74 (doc. n. 18); Sant Salvador de “Mata Monasterii” (899); ACU, Consecrations, n. 8; Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, pp. 67-68 (doc. n. 11); Sant Vicenç de Corbera (899); ACU, copy from the 13th century, LDEU I, f. 240 (819); Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, p. 68 (doc. n. 12); Santa Maria d'Iquilà (903); ACU, Consecrations, n. 10; Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, pp. 72-73 (doc. n. 16); Sant Andreu de Sagàs (903); ACU, copy from the 13th century, LDEU I, f. 239, (814); Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, p. 73 (doc. n. 17); Sant Jaume de Frontanyà (905); ACU, Consecrations, n. 11; Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, pp. 74-75 (doc. n. 19); Sant Pau de Casserres (907); ACU, Consecrations, n. 12; Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, pp. 77-78 (doc. n. 21); Sant Martí de Puigreig (907); ACU, copy from the 13th century, LDEU I, f. 239 (817); Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, p. 79 (doc. n. 22); Sant Martí d'Avià (907); ACU, copy from the 13th century, LDEU I, f. 239, (doc n. 818); Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, pp. 75-77 (doc. n. 20); Sant Miquel, Sant Pere i Sant Andreu de Paradís (948); ACU, Consecrations, n. 17; Baraut, “Les actes de consagracions d’esglésies”, pp. 87-89 (doc. n. 30).

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That is to say, while the general rule in the other bishoprics seemed to rest on the need to create a dense parish network which could run the entire episcopal area, by establishing taxes, synods and population affiliation, the bishopric of Urgell only seemed to be interested in managing one area, the County of Berga, that was no less important, since it bordered with the bishopric of Vic to the east and, to the south, with the Muslims. I started this article by highlighting the vast expanse of land under the scope of the bishops of Urgell, which ranged from the Pyrenean valleys of the present-day Aragonese Ribagorza to the valleys of the upper Llobregat. However, this territorial expanse does not appear to match the series of documents about consecrations and endowments. Is it to be supposed that no parishes or churches existed in the areas where there is a void in the recorded documentation? This assumption seems improbable. These areas in the Pyrenean valleys were surely quite well populated, and likely with chapels, suffragan churches and parishes. What happened then? By reviewing early medieval documentation, it can be seen that the other bishoprics seemed to follow a global policy on this matter, but in Urgell the situation polarised around a small area in relation to the entire episcopal territory. It seems as if the axis of Urgell’s episcopal orientation did not take into account certain areas that it might have believed did not belong to it (Pallars and Ribagorza), focusing only on those areas where it believed that it had a natural right or intended to extract a political and economical advantage. In fact, this systematisation of consecrations in the valleys of the County of Berga is so evident that even the path traced by bishops in its organisation can be followed. In a matter of years (890-930) a very dense parish network had been perfectly formed which fixed taxes on the faithful; the church’s taxes for the bishopric; systematic donations received (in varying degrees) and which, moreover, facilitated that any area susceptible to falling under dispute after the widening of the frontier, remained perfectly bound to the bishopric.24 In summary, the bishopric of Urgell attempted to politicise the formation of a parish network, which, instead of privileging expansion in the areas it already dominated, aimed to allocate land it owned that could be disputed and jeopardised at any given time. Along with the provision of 24 The documentation is especially clear in that regard. The preserved documents of the consecration minutes enable us to know the scrupulous methods through which the taxes had to be paid by the faithful, those taxes that had to be paid by the parish, and even the formulations that bishops made to link and to subordinate those churches within their jurisdiction.

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the Episcopal chair, this is another example that demonstrates a certain radicalism, an extreme concept of some more or less common customs in the other bishoprics. Regarding the subordination of the diocese of Roda de Isábena, the mere mention of this fact shows a singularity in relation to the other bishoprics of the Catalan counties. Santa Maria de Urgell had control over an area that, although having belonged to it in the past, had achieved certain jurisdictional independence. This longstanding love-hate relationship between the dioceses of Urgell and Ribagorza can be linked to the preceding point about church consecrations. From the outset, although it cannot be denied that the bishopric of Urgell undertook the evangelisation and management of its county, it is true that it did display very clear principles and firm policies in relation to what it was and was not interested in. So, its policy was to dominate the region nearest to the area of the Seu d’Urgell (seat of the diocese); those regions bordering the Muslim-held territory (Guissona and Solsona among others); and those districts bordering the diocese of Vic (with the parochialisation of the County of Berga). The remaining districts under the diocese’s control were intentionally or unintentionally rather neglected. According to the documentation, no bishop of Urgell paid special attention to the Pyrenean valleys of Pallars and Ribagorza or to the mid-elevation valleys of these two counties as the frontier expanded. Perhaps the key to understanding this apathy towards its own district lies in the fact that, in the 8th century, the bishopric of Urgell took over control and management of the old Pyrenean regions of the diocese of Lleida, which was under Muslim rule at the time. That is, Urgell based part of its vast territorial expansion on the fact that it had appropriated areas that did not belong to it, it did not own and had never managed. On paper, it looked good to receive royal precepts and papal bulls confirming assets and rights in these western valleys, but in practise, these regions might have represented a certain headache being of no particular interest because they were not traditional possessions of Urgell and completely closed to any kind of frontier expansion or the inclusion of marginal interjurisdictional areas.25 To put it another way, the upper valleys of Pallars and Ribargorza were not as attractive as the area of Solsona or the valleys of the County of Berga because they were difficult terrain, which was also undeniably influenced by the Counts of Toulouse, and were, to cap it all, closed to expansion. 25 These are the areas where the lineages of intermediate powers featuring viscounts and local lords were formed.

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In view of all this, the bishopric of Urgell never showed any interest in these areas that, after several incidents and hostile processes, later gave rise to the new diocese of Roda de Isábena. However, the one thing does not cancel out the other: although they were unimportant, this did not imply that the removal of such a wealth of land, rights and assets which may have fallen to Santa Maria de Urgell did not matter. Having become the largest bishopric and one of the most important recipients of income and rights, and with the important added perquisite of its political affinity to the Counts of Barcelona, the bishopric of Urgell could not stand idly by as a large part of its territory was removed. Therefore, as soon as the new bishopric (which had already started to shake things up at the end of the 9th century) began to consolidate its posts and strengthen its institution, it became necessary for Urgell to step boldly forward and subjugate it. To this effect is the document from November 101726 in which the Bishop of Urgell (Ermengol) and the canons of Santa Maria de Urgell confirm the election of Borrell as Bishop of Roda. The document states that they confirmed their choice with the consent of the Count of Pallars, the noblemen and abbots of the area. However this pales into insignificance if one takes into account the last lines of the text that state that the provision is made: ‘sub tuicione alme Marie Sedis Prefate’, clarifying the head of all the churches of the county where the new bishop would settle, and that he must be dependent on Bishop Ermengol of Urgell and his successors. Therefore, the particularity of this diocese lies in the fact that it became an archbishopric without trying, by adopting a subordinating role over another bishopric, where other bishoprics of the Catalan county arch had failed (take, for example, the significant case of the aforementioned Atón of Vic, assassinated in 970, or the attempt to create an archbishopric in Tarragona).27

2. 3. Particularities on an economic and patrimonial level The third and last particularity of the bishopric of Urgell is related to economic and tax issues. Two facts stand out, namely the systematisation

26

ACU, n. 205; Cebrià Baraut, “Els documents, dels anys 1010-1035, de l'arxiu Capitular de la Seu d'Urgell”, Urgellia, 4 (1981), pp. 61-63 (doc. n. 350). 27 Ramon Ordeig, “Ató, bisbe i arquebisbe de Vic (957-971)”, Studia Vicensia, 1 (1989), pp. 61-97; Ramón Martí, “Delà, Cesari i Ató, primers arquebisbes dels comptes-prínceps de Barcelona (951-953/981)”, Analecta Sacra Tarraconensia, 67/1 (1994), pp. 369-386.

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of donations with a life interest received by Santa Maria de Urgell, and the replacement of the payment of the “tasca” with that of a wax tax. Concerning the first particularity of the bishopric of Urgell, early medieval documentation from the Catalan county area suggests that the donations of family allodial titles by smallholders to religious institutions in exchange for reserving usufruct started around 940-950. From then until half a century later, it is possible to track more than four hundred of these donations, always linked to cathedrals, canonries and monasteries. It is surprising that the Church of Santa Maria de Urgell, cathedral of the bishopric, accounts for 20% of all these donations. This could be explained by the abundance of documents related to this church. However, this explanation is not feasible because there are other churches from the era and the Catalan bishoprics with a higher volume of documents and, despite this, there are very few donations with a life interest compared with those received by the Church of Urgell. Therefore, although the churches of Sant Pere de Vic, Santa Eulàlia de Barcelona and the monastery of Sant Cugat del Vallés have a very large volume of documents linked to them,28 only the aforementioned church outnumbers the donations to the See of Urgell, albeit not by much. The remaining churches lag behind on a hypothetical ranking. One might ask the reason for this systematic reception of donations. Through a chronological analysis of the reception of these donations, it can be seen that they quantitatively and significantly increase after 980, with a steady growth until the middle of the 11th century (which is the cut

The “tasca” was a lordly imposition. Until the 15th century it was equivalent to an eleventh of the harvest. 28 There are two publications about the Sant Pere cathedral of Vic which gather dozens of documents relating to the church and to its patrimonial relations. Eduard Junyent, Diplomatari de la catedral de Vic. Segles IX-X, 4 vols. (Vic: Patronat d’Estudis Osonencs, 1980-1987); Ramon Ordeig, Diplomatari de la catedral de Vic (Vic: Publicacions del Patronat d’Estudis Osonencs and Publicacions de l’Arxiu i Biblioteca Episcopal, 2003). About the cathedral of Barcelona, we also have the recent publication of two works which make hundreds of documents from the 9th to 11th centuries available to researchers: Ángel Fàbrega, Diplomatari de la catedral de Barcelona. Documents dels anys 844-1000 (Barcelona: Arxiu Capitular de la Catedral de Barcelona, 1995); Josep Baucells, Ángel Fàbrega, Manuel Riu, Josep Hernando and Carme Batlle, Diplomatari de l'Arxiu Capitular de la Catedral de Barcelona, 5 vols. (Barcelona: Fundació Noguera, 2006). About the monastery of Sant Cugat del Vallès, we can’t ignore the great work of Josep Rius, which transcribes the extensive documentation about the monastery, which exceeds five hundred documents: Josep Rius, Cartulario de “Sant Cugat” del Vallès, 2 vols. (Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1945).

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off point for this study). Interestingly, this period (980-1030/1040) corresponds with that of the maximum consolidation of the bishopric of Urgell as an institution. During this period, Bishops Salla and Saint Ermengol (981-1035), among others, both sons of the important viscounty family of Conflent, rose to power, following a deformed version of the priest-Levite-priest model. As stated, both were members of a distinguished lineage and also had useful links with some of the most eminent counts of the period (with the county lineage of Urgell, led by Count Borrell II and the successive Ermengols; and with the county lineage of Barcelona, with whom there seemed to be an affinity and great understanding). Moreover, both bishops were key to the construction of stronger episcopal structures, perhaps due to their need to increase their power and influence, considering they joined the bishopric as part of a family policy of strengthening and growth. So, with the creation of a chapter institution and the formation of a stereotypical diocesan curia with an important body of influential people closely linked to the Bishop and his spiritual and political action, Salla and Ermengol gave unprecedented impetus to the restoration and foundation of a strong religious community in the See of Urgell. What is more, Ermengol also promoted a major reform of the cathedral, which was completed and consecrated in 1040.29 As if that was not enough, Saint Ermengol was a great promoter of public works and the construction of bridges and roads that would effectively link the enclaves of Urgellet and Cerdanya.30 What is meant by all this? Despite rising to power through obvious secular interference and without any special relationship with God from the outset, these two bishops played an important role in the consolidation and growth of the power and prestige of the bishopric they presided over. Thanks to them, the diocese of Urgell developed a healthy involvement in 29 ACU, copy from the thirteenth century, LDEU I, f. 16v-17v, n. 24; Ramon Ordeig, Les Dotalies de les esglésies de Catalunya, segles IX-XII (Barcelona: Universitat de Barcelona, 1990), II, pp. 103-107 (doc. n. 165-b). Also the following documents: ACU, folder containing relic scrolls; Ordeig, Les Dotalies de les esglésies, II, pp. 101-103 (docs. n. 165-a1, 165-a2, 165-a3). 30 Cebrià Baraut, “Les fonts documentals i hagiogràfiques medievals de la vida i miracles de sant Ermengol, bisbe d’Urgell (1010-1035)”, Urgellia, 14 (19982001), pp. 137-166; Prim Bertran, “Ermengol d’Urgell: l’obra d’un bisbe del segle XI”, La transformació de la frontera al segle XI, Reflexions des de Guissona arran del IX centenari de la consagració de l'església de Santa Maria, ed. by Flocel Sabaté (Lleida: Servei de Publicacions de la Universitat de Lleida, 2000), pp. 89132.

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the social, economical and political dynamics and processes in the 11th and subsequent centuries. Moreover, it gained a better defined and, above all, more efficient and better coordinated structure. These attitudes and actions probably did not go unnoticed by small and medium-sized farm owners who could see a robust, strong and guaranteed institution in the bishopric of Urgell. The emergence of posts and intermediate powers (viscounts, local lords, curates…) must have caused landowners living in the area under the control of the bishopric a degree of insecurity. As a result, they may have preferred to anticipate the prevailing circumstances and context by making donations with life interest to an institution like Santa Maria de Urgell, rather than being led into some kind of dependence on a civil institution to which they had no specific performance references. By giving their assets to the bishopric through this type of donation, these small and medium-sized farm owners had the guarantee of a series of favourable circumstances. On one hand, they did not have to leave the land or lose its produce since they continued to farm it and, in addition, they profited from the usufruct. On the other, this land could not be alienated to any other person or institution since, from a legal point of view, it belonged to the bishopric of Urgell, which was a powerful, weighty institution with important contacts among the power groups of the time. Therefore, in the eyes of early medieval farmers, the bishopric of Urgell was a trustworthy and secure institution to join without fear thanks to this agreement and the retaining of their effective means of livelihood. That the diocese of Urgell and especially the Church of Santa Maria de Urgell received so many donations with life interest could suggest that, in the eyes of the small and medium-sized landowners of the Catalan county area, it displayed a greater degree of trust and stability than other religious institutions of equal or similar spiritual value. The second particularity mentioned above concerns the payment of taxes linked to this kind of donation. The study of three hundred donations with life interest in the Catalan county arch for the period from 910 to 1020 sheds light on a curious fact: 50% of these taxes were composed, in their general formulation, of the payment of the “tasca”, although there were variations in some cases. In churches like Sant Cugat del Vallès, the payment of the “tasca” represented 66% of taxes from this kind of donation, whereas in Sant Pere de Vic, the percentage was a third of the total, and in the case of the monastery of Santa Maria de Ripoll, it was virtually 100% of the payment. In general, it is apparent that an important percentage of the taxes charged by the monasteries and Sees of northeastern Spain consisted of the “tasca”.

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However, the bishopric of the Seu d’Urgell and the first of its churches (Santa Maria de Urgell) present a new particularity in this sense. For this Church, payment of the “tasca” and derived taxes only represented 9% while the payment in various quantities of wax represents 70% of the total taxes received by donations with life interest. How important was this payment in wax in the other religious institutions that received these donations? The truth is that the percentage of payment in wax was marginal and residual in all other institutions: Sant Cugat del Vallés recorded six such payments; and Sant Pere de Vic, one, as did Santa Maria de Ripoll. The documentation analysed highlights no more than half a dozen payments in wax to other religious institutions during the studied period. This means that the taxes collected by the bishopric of Urgell seem different to those received by all the other religious institutions –some seventy– of the period. As is well known, taxes in wax were often used in the liturgical functions of churches and monasteries. However, although wax seems relegated to a very minor payment in the remaining districts of the Catalan county area, it does not seem to make sense that these functions were only carried out in the Seu d’Urgell. At present, there is no clear explanation for this particularity.

Conclusion As can be seen, the bishopric of Urgell exhibits a certain type of characteristic that distinguishes it from the other nearby dioceses. At an institutional level, Urgell radicalised its position on secular interference in the provision of the Episcopal chair. On an administrative and internal management level, there are very distinct orientations, which tend more towards politics than spirituality with regard to the parochialisation of its own area. Furthermore, concerning levies and taxes, the bishopric of Urgell received systematic and substantial donations and unusual tax payments poorly linked to those of nearby institutions. All this seems to suggest that the bishopric of Urgell was an institution with its own identity, with a series of elements that propose a definition without generalisations or empty associations. It should not be forgotten that, at times, the Catalan early Middle Ages have been studied from viewpoints espousing a monolithic nature or that delved deeper into the search for a personal and institutional lack of dynamism. However, the bishopric of Urgell was a dynamic institution and above all, one that adapted to changes and immersed itself in the circumstances and needs

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Peculiarities of the Bishopric of Urgell in the 10th and 11th Centuries

arising in society. Therefore, its radical cursus honorum responded to the need to participate in the emergence of new power groups eager to gain influence and rights that, in turn, would benefit the Church of Urgell, strengthening it and giving it a fuller and more effective sense. The selective parochialisation of part of the region can also be interpreted as a way of adapting to new circumstances that advocated locating social changes and dynamics in marginal areas and on the frontier. That is, the orientations of this modern institution had to focus on the southern areas and the County of Berga. The fact that the bishopric attracted so many donations with life interest suggests that it had adapted to the new circumstances created by a society of small and medium-sized farm owners who were fearful and reluctant to be trapped by dependencies arising from new emerging powers and the fragmentation of jurisdiction. So, they looked to the bishoprics for support and a certain guarantee that they would not lose their dignity. So to conclude, I believe that the particularities herein succinctly described enable me to speak of the bishopric of Urgell as a model of church that was just as valid and legitimate as perhaps any other found in the religious institutions of the time. I therefore think it necessary to stress the polyhedral nature of the people and institutions that broke with the traditional homogenisation of early medieval society.

THE ECCLESIASTICAL POLICY OF THE COUNTS OF BARCELONA IN A CONQUERED REGION: THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE COUNTS AND THE ARCHBISHOPRIC OF TARRAGONA IN TH TH THE 12 AND 13 CENTURIES TOSHIHIRO ABE UNIVERSITY OF TOKYO

Introduction Preface After the second half of the 11th century, the relationship between the Church and the counts in the county of Barcelona, Catalonia, changed. Due to the Gregorian Reform, the feudalisation of society and the prevailing historical conditions of Catalonia, bishoprics in Old Catalonia (Barcelona, Gerona and Vic) began to distance themselves from the counts and became independent feudal lords.1 However, we cannot say the same of the Church in New Catalonia, the region conquered in the 12th century.2 The relationship between the Church 1

Antoni Pladevall, Història de l'Església a Catalunya (Barcelona: Claret, 1989); Toshihiro Abe, “La Reforma Gregoriana y Catalunya. Las relaciones entre la Iglesia y el poder secular, siglos XI y XII. De Ramon Berenguer I a Ramon Berenguer III”, Acta Historica Archaeologica et Mediaevalia, 27/28 (2006-2007), pp. 9-37; Toshihiro Abe, “Del obispado condal al obispado autonómico: el desarrollo de la relación entre el conde de Barcelona y la Iglesia como sistema de poder en siglo XII”, Acta Historica Archaeologica et Mediaevalia, 31 (2011), pp. 163-188. 2 Regarding the conquest and resettlement of New Catalonia, see: Flocel Sabaté, L’expansió territorial de Catalunya (segles IX-XII): Conquesta o repoblació? (Lleida: Publicacions de la Universitat de Lleida, 1996); Flocel Sabaté, “Las tierras nuevas en los condados del Nordeste Peninsular (siglos X-XII)”, Studia

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Ecclesiastical Policy of the Counts of Barcelona in a Conquered Region

and the counts there was different, due to the different historical context of the region. To fully understand the relationship between political power and the Church in Catalonia, we must analyse how these interacted. In terms of the conquest and resettlement of New Catalonia, researchers tend to emphasise the process of “feudal expansion,” arguing that feudal lords, especially ecclesiastical lords, free from the control of the counts, emerged in New Catalonia.3 L. J. McCrank, M. Bonet Donato and other researchers have analysed the development of the archbishopric of Tarragona and the feudalisation of the region.4 A. Altisent, J. Santacana Tort and other researchers have studied the formation and development of the feudal estates of the Cistercian monasteries, Poblet and Santes Creus.5 A. J. Forey, J. M. Sans i Travé and others have studied the military orders: the Order of the Temple and the Order of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem.6 There have also been numerous studies on ecclesiastical lords historica. Historia medieval, 23 (2005), pp. 139-170. 3 Regarding the concept of feudalism and its expansion in Catalonia and the Crown of Aragon, see: Pierre Bonnassie, La Catalogne du milieu du Xe à la fin du XIe siècle, croissance et mutation d’une société, 2 vols. (Toulouse: Toulouse Le Mirail, 1975-1976); El Feudalisme: Comptat i Debatut: Formació i expansió del feudalisme català, ed. by Gaspar Feliu, Antoni Furió, Miquel Barceló and Jaume Sobrequés (Valencia: Universitat de Valencia, 2003); El Temps i l’Espai del Feudalisme, coord. by Flocel Sabaté and Joan Farré (Lleida: Pagès Editors, 2004) 4 Josep Iglesias, La restauració de Tarragona (Barcelona: Rafel Dalmau, 1963); Josep Maria Font, “Entorn de la restauració cristiana de Tarragona. Esquema de la seva ordenació jurídica inicia”, Boletín Arqueológico, 66 (1966), pp. 724-727; Lawrence J. McCrank, “Norman crusaders in the Catalan reconquest. Robert Burdet and the principality of Tarragona, 1129-1155”, Journal of Medieval History, 7 (1980), pp. 67-82; Maria Bonet, “La Feudalització de Tarragona (segle XII)”, Butlletí Arqueològic, 16 (1994), pp. 211-239; Maria Bonet, “La ciutat feudal a la Catalunya meridional”, El Temps i l'espai del feudalisme, pp. 477-514; Maria Bonet, “Las dependencias personales y las prestaciones económicas en la expansión feudal en la Cataluña nueva (siglo XII)”, Hispania, 66 (2006), pp. 425481. 5 Agustí Altisent, Història de Poblet (Poblet: Abadia de Poblet, 1974); Jaume Santacana, El Monasterio de Poblet (1151-1181) (Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1974); Antonio Carreras, El Monestir de Santes Creus (1150-1200) (Valls: Institut d'Estudis Vallencs, 1992). 6 Alan J. Forey, The Templars in the Corona de Aragón (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1973); Josep Maria Sans, “L’Orde del Temple als Països Catalans: la seva introducció i organització (segles XII-XIV)”, Actes de les Primeres Jornades sobre els ordres religioso-militars als països catalans ss. XIIXIX (Tarragona: Diputació de Tarragona, 1994), pp. 17-42; Josep Maria Sans, La Colonització de la Conca de Barberà després de la conquesta feudal: El cas de

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around the city of Tortosa, the bishop and the Order of the Temple.7 These numerous studies on the ecclesiastical lords tend to suppose that the counts of Barcelona did not have strong control over the churches in New Catalonia. However, the count of Barcelona must have had a great opportunity to build up control over New Catalonia, the region conquered under his rule. In fact, the count himself rebuilt the bishoprics of Tortosa and Lleida, founded Cistercian monasteries and invited military orders there. So, why could the count not control the Church to the same extent? What were the ecclesiastical policies of the counts, and what were the results of those policies in New Catalonia? We will analyse this subject, that is, the count’s policy in relation to the Church in New Catalonia, its development and its results, to clarify one important part of the development of the political structure in Catalonia in the High Middle Ages. As much research and information about the archbishopric of Tarragona is available, we will focus on the relationship between the counts and the archbishopric of Tarragona. Tarragona was the first important city to be wrested from Muslim control by Christian forces in New Catalonia. So, the construction of political structure in Tarragona probably influenced other parts of New Catalonia. What is more, Tarragona is the best case through which to analyse the relationship between the count and ecclesiastical power, as the count shared the rights of the city with the archbishopric. This analysis is essential in order to appreciate the development of the relationship between the power of the prince and the Church fully, and also to understand the political structure and political culture in the Crown of Aragon better.

Previous work At the beginning of the 8th century, Muslim forces conquered Tarragona, which was subsequently reconquered by the Christians at the Vimbodí (1149? / 1151-1200) (Valls: Cossetània, 2002). 7 Antoni Virgili, “Conquesta, colonització i feudalització de Tortosa (segle XII)”, Formació i expansió del feudalisme català (Girona: Pagès Editors, 1985-1986), pp. 275-289; Antoni Virgili, Ad Detrimentum Yspanie: La Conquesta de ğurĠnjša i la Formació de la Societat Feudal (1148-1200) (Barcelona and Valencia: Universitat de València, 2001); Laureà Pagarolas, La Comanda Temple de Tortosa: primer periode (1148-1213) (Tortosa: Diputació de Tortosa, 1984); Josep Serrano, Senyoriu i Municipi a la Catalunya Nova (segles XII-XIX), 2 vols. (Barcelona: Fundació Noguera, 2000).

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beginning of the 12th century. Modern studies of Tarragona in the time of the reconquest and resettlement by the Christians began with M. Morera’s work Tarragona Cristiana, in which he examined the history of Tarragona until the end of the 19th century.8 He describes the situation of the epoch in detail: the conquest by the archbishop required by the count of Barcelona, the conflicts between the archbishopric and nobles who had collaborated with the archbishop in the conquest, the results of these conflicts that were favourable to the archbishop, the authority of the archbishop over the city, and his organisation of churches and the resettlement. His work centred on the activities of the archbishopric. Since the 1970s, L. J. McCrank has continued Morera’s work, confirming the results of his studies.9 Since the 1990s, M. Bonet Donato has made use of the documents of the cartas de población, the pacts of resettlement, and has analysed the resettlement around Tarragona.10 She concludes that resettlement was carried out under the initiative of the archbishopric, not the count, and that it allowed the archbishopric to consolidate its control over the region.11 As we have seen, researchers have focused on the activities of the archbishopric and generally consider it the protagonist of the region. However, doubts can be cast on this interpretation. Firstly, these studies do not pay enough attention to the activities of the count of Barcelona. It is known that dispersed political power was characteristic of the Crown of Aragon, so maybe it seems natural to these researchers to assume that the count did not have strong power in Tarragona, either. Nevertheless, the conquest and resettlement of Tarragona must also have provided a great opportunity for the count to create a region under his direct control and fortify his political power. To better understand the formation process of the political structure in the conquered region, we have to analyse the political activities of the counts as well. Secondly, it should be noted that these researchers have relied almost exclusively on Church documents, so it is natural they have received the impression that only the Church was accumulating rights and lands. It is 8 Emili Morera, Tarragona Cristiana: Historia del Arzobispado de Tarragona (Cataluña la Nueva) (Tarragona: Diputació provincial de Tarragona, 1897, reprinted, 1981), I. 9 McCrank, “Norman crusaders in the Catalan reconquest. Robert Burdet and the principality of Tarragona, 1129-1155”. 10 Cartas de Población y Franquícia are the documents with which the organiser of the resettlement and settlers (or the administrator of the resettlement) decided on the conditions of the settlement. They are called cartas pueblas in Castile. 11 Bonet, “La Feudalització de Tarragona (segle XII)”; Bonet, “La ciutat feudal a la Catalunya meridional”.

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crucial to broaden our use of sources to include other types of documents, such as those of the count and the Pope. Thirdly, the studies mentioned do not take into account the political situation of the Crown of Aragon. They have only analysed the activities of the Church in the region, but the external influence of the Crown may also have affected the count’s policy and the formation of the Church’s estates. So, we also have to consider the political situation and political activities of the count. Bearing in mind these issues and doubts, we will chronologically analyse the policy of the count of Barcelona, its development and its results in Tarragona by using a variety of sources: Church documents, documents belonging to the count, Papal documents, and pacts of resettlement. Our study begins with the conquest of Tarragona at the beginning of the 12th century, in the time of Count Ramon Berenguer III (1097-1131), and ends with the conquest of the Balearic Islands (1229) at the beginning of the time of James I (1213-1276), as the latter can be considered the end of New Catalonia as a frontier.

Sources The pacts made by the counts of Barcelona until the 12th century were drawn up on the orders of Count Alfonso I (1162-1196) with the title Liber Feudorum Maior. M. Rosell published these documents in the first half of the 20th century.12 The documents of Count Alfonso I were edited by A. I. Sánchez Casabón under the title Alfonso II Rey de Aragón, Conde de Barcelona y Marqués de Provenza. Documentos (1162-1196).13 M. Alvira Cabrer edited the documents of Count Peter I (1196-1213) with the title Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona (1196-1213): Documentos, Testimonios y Memoria Histórica.14 The documents of James I have been edited by A. Huici Miranda and M. D. Cabanes Pecourt under the title Documentos de Jaime I de Aragón.15 These are the four works 12 Liber Feudorum Maior, 2 vols. ed. by Miquel Rosell (Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1945). 13 Alfonso II Rey de Aragón, Conde de Barcelona y Marques de Provenza. Documentos (1162-1196), ed. by Ana Sánchez (Saragossa: Instituto Fernando el Católico, 1995). 14 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona (1196-1213): Documentos, Testimonios y Memoria Histórica, ed. by Martín Alvira (Saragossa: Instituto Fernando el Católico, 2010). 15 Documentos de Jaime I de Aragón, 4 vols., ed. by Alberto Huici and Maria Dolores Cabanes (Saragossa: Anubar, 1976-1982).

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from which we will draw our information on the role of the counts. The files and documents referring to the archbishopric of Tarragona were damaged in the War of Independence against the French army at the beginning of the 19th century, and also sustained damage from the Spanish Civil War in the first half of the 20th century. However, some documents have survived, permitting us to analyse the situation of the region. First, there are the documents in the appendix of the work of M. Morera, Tarragona Cristiana, written in the 19th century. Next, there is the Arxiepiscopologi of Tarragona, a work written by a canon of the archbishopric of Tarragona in the 17th century and published in the 19th.16 The documents of the churches near the archbishopric; the monastery of Poblet, the monastery of Santes Creus and the Order of the Temple; are also valuable sources. J. P. Marquès published the documents of the monastery of Poblet in 1938.17 The documents of the monastery of Santes Creus were edited recently by J. Patell in 2005.18 The documents of the Order of the Temple in Barberà, up to the beginning of the 13th century, were edited by J. M. Sans i Travé in 1997.19 All five are of great value for obtaining information about the archbishopric of Tarragona. The documents of the Papacy in Catalonia are also important, as they provide information on the Church in New Catalonia. The documents of the Papacy covering the whole of “Spain” until the beginning of the 13th century were edited by D. Mansilla under the title La documentación pontificia hasta Inocencio III.20 Finally, we can make use of the cartas de población, the pacts of resettlement, which enumerate the rights of the cities, towns and villages, edited by J. M. Font i Rius.21 We will use these sources to investigate the general situation in New Catalonia during the resettlement. Using the documents mentioned, we will analyse the policy of the count for the region of Tarragona and the archbishopric of Tarragona. We 16

Josep Blanch, Arxiepiscopologi de la Santa Església Metropolitana i Primada de Tarragona, 2 vols. (Tarragona: Diputació provincial de Tarragona, 1985). 17 Cartulari de Poblet, ed. by Joan Pons (Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1938). 18 Diplomatari del monestir de Santa Maria de Santes Creus (975-1225), ed. by Joan Papell (Barcelona: Fundació Noguera, 2005). 19 Col.lecció Diplomàtica de la Casa del Temple de Barberà (945-1212), dir. by Josep Maria Sans i Travé (Barcelona: Fundació Noguera, 1997). 20 La documentación pontificia hasta Inocencio III (965-1216), ed. by Demetrio Mansilla (Rome: Instituto Español de Historia Eclesiástica, 1955). 21 Josep Maria Font, Cartas de Población y franquicia de Cataluña, 2 vols. (Madrid and Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 19691983).

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will begin by analysing the conquest of the city and the subsequent formation of the city’s political structure.

1. The political situation around Tarragona 1. 1. The process of conquest and the formation of the political structure The city of Tarragona, the religious centre of both Catalonia and other regions of the Peninsula (including Aragon and Valencia) in the time of the Visigoth kingdom, was conquered by the Muslims at the beginning of the 8th century. When Charles the Great and Louis the Pious of the Frankish Kingdom conquered the northern part of Catalonia, Old Catalonia, and founded the counties of the Marca Hispanica at the beginning of the 9th century, Tarragona remained under Muslim rule. Many more Muslims lived in the Mediterranean area, compared with the other regions of Spain. Meanwhile, Christian groups in Old Catalonia were divided into counties and did not achieve political unity for generations. This meant that Tarragona remained under Muslim governance for some three hundred years more. At the end of the 11th century, as their situation improved, the Christians in Old Catalonia began to see Tarragona as a realistic target for conquest. The Muslims were divided into small kingdoms, taifas, after the fall of the Umayyad dynasty. Meanwhile, the count of Barcelona had emerged as the political leader of the region, and improved agricultural production had resulted in population growth. After the “Feudal Revolution,” feudal lords began to obey the authority of the count, at least in theory. At the same time, the Papacy began to demonstrate its intention to encourage war against the Muslims. In this context, during the reign of Count Ramon Berenguer III (10971131), the Christians began their attempts to conquer Tarragona. It was not easy; between 1108 and 1114, they were pushed back by the Muslim army to Martorell, near Barcelona. When the count tried to conquer the island of Majorca, he needed the aid of Pisa and Genoa. Moreover, the Muslims retook the island within a few years.22 Maybe this was because the rights of the count were not so strong in demanding military or economic aid from their retainers under the feudal system of Catalonia.23 22

For the time of Ramon Berenguer III, see: Santiago Sobrequés, Els Grans Comtes de Barcelona (Barcelona: Vicens Vives, 1961), pp. 159-214. 23 Regarding the feudal system in Catalonia, see: Thomas N. Bisson, “Feudalism in Twelfth-Century Catalonia”, Structures Féodales et Féodalisme dans l’Occident

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The count conquered Tarragona by relying on the power of the bishopric of Barcelona. In 1118, Ramon Berenguer III nominally gave the city of Tarragona to Oleguer, bishop of Barcelona and archbishop-elect of Tarragona, and gave him the task of conquering Tarragona: [...] dono et per hanc scripturam donationis trado ecclesie Sedis Tarrahonensis, [...] et tibi Ollegario episcopo tuisque successoribus pontificibus [...], ipsam civitatem Terrachonae [...] et iudicentur et distringantur ubi opus fuerit secundum leges et mores et constitutiones quas vos ibi constitueritis.24

However, it was difficult for the archbishop to conquer the city. Though Tarragona had been half-abandoned by Muslims at that time, in order to conquer and secure a city as important as Tarragona, military assistance was necessary. In 1129, Oleguer appointed a Norman knight called Robert, who had participated in the war with the Muslims in Aragon as princeps of Tarragona, and gave him the task of conquering and governing Tarragona: [...] confisi, ipsius civitatis restaurationi operam dando ad honorem Dei et Ecclesiae eius, consilio et favore praedicti Raymundi comitis, [...] te venerabilem virum et strenuum militem ipsius Ecclesiae et nostrum hominio et sacramento fidelem, carissime Rodberte, ipsius civitatis principem constituimus. Unde ad honorem Dei et Tarraconensis ecclesiae, nostram nostrorumque successorem fidelitatem donamus et tradimus tibi ipsam civitatem cum territorio suo [...] ut disponas et regas et iudices homines qui illuc convenerint cum timore Dei et iustitia secundum leges et bonas consuetudines quas ibi communi consilio sonstituerimus.25

In this document, the archbishop strictly defined the structure of governance. He ordered Robert to govern the city under the law that the archbishop himself had established. At the end of the document, Robert swore his loyalty and also swore to conquer the city. Though it says that ‘consilio et favore praedicti Raymundi comitis’ in the document, it is not signed by the count. We can assume that the archbishop was acting under his own initiative. We consider that this is how the typical political structure of Tarragona began, in which the secular lord governed a secular Méditerranéen (Xe-XIIIe siècles). Bilan et Perspectives de Recherches (Rome: Centre National de Recherche Scientifique, 1980), pp. 173-192; Flocel Sabaté, La Feudalización de la Sociedad Catalana (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2007). 24 Liber Feudorum Maior, I, pp. 258-259 (doc. n. 245). 25 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 87-89 (doc. n. 51).

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population under the authority of the archbishopric. Thanks to this pact, the city of Tarragona was under Christian control by the 1130s.

1. 2. The establishment of the base of the political structure of Tarragona in the time of Counts Ramon Berenguer IV (1131-1162) and Alfonso I (1162-1196) When the Christians conquered Tortosa (1148) and Lleida (1149), the power of the Muslims to carry out attacks was reduced, and the resettlement of Tarragona could take place more rapidly. However, once stability and growth in Tarragona had been established, there were intense conflicts between Robert’s family and his feudal lord, the archbishopric of Tarragona, concerning the governance of the city. From the end of 1140, they made various pacts regarding the governance of Tarragona.26 The conflicts worsened until the 1170s when the family assassinated an archbishop of Tarragona, Hug de Cervelló (1163-1171). After that, Robert’s son suffered the same fate in Tortosa. The count of Barcelona took the archbishopric’s side and Robert’s family was ultimately expelled. Subsequently, the rights that Robert’s family had possessed in Tarragona were passed to the count of Barcelona. The count and the archbishopric began to share the governance of Tarragona.27 Two-thirds of the secular rights of Tarragona, including the judicial rights, were held by the count of Barcelona. However, the count had to swear loyalty to the archbishop in exchange for these rights. That is, he had to be a retainer of the archbishop for the rights of Tarragona, just as Robert had been. First, Count Ramon Berenguer IV (1131-1162), the archbishop of Tarragona and Robert’s family made a pact to divide up the rights of the city of Tarragona in 1151, with each of them taking a third. In the pact, they decided that the archbishop would hand over the territory of Tarragona to the count, and that the count would keep Tarragona and the rights as a secular lord over the inhabitants, under the authority of the archbishop: [...] ego Bernardus, Tarraconensis archiepiscopus, ad honorem Dei et Apostolorum principis Petri, laudo, dono et trado [...] civitatem Tarrachone cum territorio suo tibi, Raimundo, illustri comiti 26

Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 107-109, 111-114, 118-121 (docs. n. 66, 69, 73, 74). 27 Regarding the process of this conflict, see the books and articles we have mentioned: Morera, Tarragona Cristiana, I, pp. 456-525; McCrank, “Norman crusaders in the Catalan reconquest. Robert Burdet and the principality of Tarragona, 1129-1155”.

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Some twenty years later, in 1173, when they expelled Robert’s family, the pact between the archbishop and Count Alfonso I (1162-1196) was renewed. The archbishop was considered a superior lord to the count this time as well. For example, it was agreed that conflicts in Tarragona must be judged by the baiulus of the archbishop and the count, and the baiulus of the count had to swear to be a subject of the archbishop: baiulus domini regis iurent quod sint fideles domino archiepiscopi.29 As we have seen, during the conquest of the city, a political structure was formed in which the count and the archbishop shared the governance of the city and the archbishop was superior to the count. Why were the counts of the epoch, such as Ramon Berenguer IV, willing to tolerate such a peculiar structure?

1. 3. The ecclesiastical policy of Ramon Berenguer IV In Tarragona, the count of Barcelona accepted the authority of the Church. However, in other cases, we know that he avoided ceding political power to the Church. Firstly, in other cities in New Catalonia, Tortosa and Lleida, the count only gave the bishops ecclesiastical rights and did not give them political power. When he refounded the bishopric of Tortosa in 1151 the count gave the bishopric only ecclesiastical rights like tithes.30 Secondly, the count did not want to give political rights to the religious orders. He promised the Order of the Temple that he would give them onefifth of the city of Tortosa as compensation for military service, after the count and the order had conquered the city. However, the count did not fulfil the promise after the conquest; he gave them only one-fifth of the revenues of the city, not of the city itself.31 Thirdly, in the cities of Tortosa and Lleida, the count issued pacts of 28

Liber Feudorum Maior, I, pp. 262-265 (doc. n. 247). Alfonso II Rey de Aragón, Conde de Barcelona y Marques de Provenza, pp. 218220 (doc. n. 148). 30 Diplomatari de la catedral de Tortosa, ed. by Antoni Virgili (Barcelona: Fundació Noguera, 1997), pp. 75-77 (doc. n. 28). 31 Forey, The Templars in the Corona de Aragón, p. 25. The count also promised the Montcada family one-third of Tortosa, but did not fulfill the promise. The Montcada family complained about this to the count’s court. Liber Feudorum Maior, II, pp. 485-487 (doc. n. 463). 29

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resettlement in which he ceded important rights to the settlers. For example, he gave the settlers the right to resolve conflicts between themselves: [...] Contentiones vero et alia malefacta que fuerint infra habitatores Tortose sit licitum probis hominibus aptare et pacificare ad invicem si voluerint antequam curie manifestentur vel ad sacramentum deviniant. De iniuriis et malefactis que facte fuerit postquam clamor fuerit factus ad curiam, firment inde directum et faciant per iudicium curie et proborum hominum Tortose.32

From the pacts that the count issued in Tortosa and Lleida, we can assume that Ramon Berenguer IV preferred to give political rights to the settlers than to the Church. Moreover, the count invited new churches into New Catalonia. Ramon Berenguer IV founded the Cistercian monasteries, the monastery of Poblet and the monastery of Santes Creus in the north of Tarragona, almost in the centre of New Catalonia, during the resettlement of the region. He also made agreements with religious orders for them to assist him during the conquest. Considering these facts, it seems that the count did not want to depend on the bishoprics to govern New Catalonia. In fact, as we know, the Gregorian Reform had advanced and the count began to lose his influence over the bishoprics in Old Catalonia before the epoch of Ramon Berenguer IV. It was therefore natural that the count aimed to secularise government, especially in the region conquered under his leadership. Therefore, we can suppose that the count did not want to swear loyalty to the archbishop, nor confirm the archbishopric’s authority over the city of Tarragona, even if he had to do so according to the terms of the conquest. It is natural that the count wanted to maintain his authority, rather than obey the archbishop. In New Catalonia, the count had more opportunity to maintain and exercise strong influence. For example, in Lleida, Count Ramon Berenguer IV appointed his son, Berenguer, bishop (1177-1191). So why did the count not attempt to change the political structure in Tarragona after the pact with the archbishop in 1173? What influenced the ecclesiastical policy of the count of Barcelona in Tarragona? The benefits enjoyed by the counts under this political structure have not been analysed in previous studies. In the period just after the conquest, the issues which were most 32

Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 121-126 (doc. n. 75).

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important to the count in New Catalonia were probably resettlement and the maintenance of order in the region. In the next sections, we will analyse the counts’ policies with regard to these issues, as well as the role played by the archbishopric. With this analysis, we will be able to confirm the role of the archbishopric and explain the causes of the peculiar political structure in Tarragona.

2. The relationship between the count and the archbishopric in the resettlement 2. 1. The geographic distribution of the settled communities After Count Ramon Berenguer IV had conquered the main cities of New Catalonia, Tortosa (1148) and Lleida (1149), resettlement advanced more rapidly. In this section, we will analyse the role of the archbishopric in the resettlement by using the pacts of resettlement edited by J. M. Font i Rius.33 M. Bonet Donato has attempted to analyse the geographic distribution of the settled communities, comparing the region of Tarragona with that of Tortosa. Some satellite towns formed around Tarragona, including Valls, Reus, Montblanc, Salou, and Cambrils. On the contrary, few similar places grew up around Tortosa. According to previous studies, this difference came from the activities of the archbishopric of Tarragona: they argue that the archbishop used the pacts of resettlement as a way to confirm his rights and expand the territory under his influence near Tarragona, and as a result, he directed the resettlement of the towns of the region.34 Meanwhile, they have analysed little of the count’s policy on the resettlement. We will explore the aims of the count in the resettlement through an analysis of the pacts. In reality, the count dedicated more energy to the region around Tarragona during the resettlement. Count Ramon Berenguer IV issued twenty pacts of resettlement between the conquest of Tortosa in 1148 and his death in 1162.35 Except for Tortosa and Lleida, the places covered by the pacts were situated around Tarragona. They were grouped into three areas: the banks of the Francolí river, which flows south and reaches the 33

Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña. Bonet, “La ciutat feudal a la Catalunya meridional”, pp. 477-514, especially, pp. 482-483. 35 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 109-111, 115-116, 121-135, 138-144, 147-157 (docs. n. 67, 68, 71, 75, 76, 77, 79, 81, 83, 86, 88, 90, 91, 94, 97, 98, 99, 101, 102 and 103). 34

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sea in Tarragona; the mountains of Conca de Barberá, the northern area of the Francolí river situated on the road to Lleida; and the coast, that is, the ports south of Tarragona, such as Cambrils and Salou.36 With this distribution of the pacts, we can understand that Count Ramon Berenguer IV had more interest in the development of the area around Tarragona, and maintaining trade routes and ports, than in defending the frontier against the Muslims. Ramon Berenguer himself founded the monastery of Poblet in Conca de Barberà, northwest of Tarragona in 1151.37 In most of the pacts, he did not include the obligation of military service for the settlers. These facts also demonstrate the interest of the count. At the same time, the count left the Zuda (the city castle) of Tortosa to the Montcada family, and the one in Lleida to the count of Urgell.38 What is more, he gave some estates inside and outside these cities to military orders.39 We can assume that the count intended to defend the frontier using the power of his most trusted nobles and military orders, while he dedicated himself to the resettlement of the region far from the frontier. The count’s strategy demonstrates the great difference between the kingdom of Castile-Leon and the county of Barcelona in the 12th century. The former had its most important city, Toledo, on the frontier and carried out the settlement there, so defending the border was the priority for the kingdom. In cities like Avila and Segovia, built on the border to defend Toledo, the settlers themselves organised and carried out the defence. On the other hand, the count of Barcelona had his most important conquered city, Tarragona, far from the frontier. During the same years, the archbishop of Tarragona also issued pacts of resettlement to communities such as Constantí and Reus, next to Tarragona.40 With these facts in mind, we can see the situation the archbishop established around Tarragona, and the count of Barcelona established around the area of the archbishop. We can assume that they 36

Antoni Virgili also indicates that 80% of the cartas de población in the second half of the 12th century are located mainly on the plain of Tarragona and in Conca de Barberà, north of the plain. Virgili, “Els Conqueridors de mitjan segle XII: Com aprenen a ser-ho”, El Feudalisme: Comptat i Debatut, p. 275. 37 Meanwhile, the settlers were sometimes obliged to build some buildings for defence, like towers. Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 115-116, 162-164 (docs. n. 71 and 110). 38 Liber Feudorum Maior, I, pp. 161-162, 485 (docs. n. 161 and462). 39 Forey, The Templars in the Corona de Aragón, pp. 15-86. 40 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, p. 149, 165 (docs. n. 95 and 112).

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cooperated in the resettlement, sharing the areas. Their attitudes were not those of competition, but rather of cooperation and division of labour.

2. 2. Cooperation in the resettlement The cooperation between them can be observed, not only in the geographic distribution of their resettlement activities, but also in the contents of the various pacts. For example, for the communities of Raurell (around 1150), Barenys (1155) and Espinaversa (1155), the archbishop of Tarragona and the count of Barcelona issued the pacts of resettlement jointly, including both their names.41 Raurell and Barenys are situated where a stream joins the Francolí. We can consider that they intended to carry out together the resettlement of the places that were important for the administration of the river. In Barenys, the count gave estates as feuds to tenants, in exchange for them organising the settlers and being obliged to provide military service to the archbishop of Tarragona.42 In the pact of resettlement for Espinaversa, there is a sentence stating that the settlers were free from the payment of tributes and were only obliged to pay the tithe and the primicia (the tribute on the first crop) to the church of Santa Tecla (the cathedral of Tarragona): ut habeatis vos et posteritas vestra predictum locum ad alodium franchum, ita quod nullum censum neque usaticum faciatis nisi quod decimas et primitias persolvatis ecclesie Sancte Tecle.43

It is interesting that only the archbishopric enjoyed the profits while the count was not given anything, at least not directly, in these pacts. In 1171, during the reign of Count Alfonso I (1162-1196), the count and the archbishopric of Tarragona issued various pacts of resettlement together. The two lords left the resettlement in Rocabruna, a community near Espinaversa, to a secular person.44 In this pact, the conditions for the settlers were not as favourable as in the 1150s; the settlers were obliged to 41 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 133, 155-157 (docs. n. 81, 101 and 102). 42 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, p. 155 (doc. n. 101). 43 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 156-157 (doc. n. 102). 44 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 200-202 (doc. n. 140).

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pay tributes together with the tithe and the primicia; they were given the estates as feuds, not as alodios, lands free from any obligations; and the two lords reserved the right to buy the estates there. We can assume that the settlement of the area had progressed until then, and yet the count and the archbishop promoted settlement activities together. Espinaversa and Rocabruna were later united, forming the hub of the region, the city of Valls.45 We can therefore also assume that the count and the archbishop succeeded in their cooperation during the resettlement. Although J. M. Font i Rius also noticed that there was cooperation between the count and the clerics of the archbishopric of Tarragona during the resettlement, he paid little attention to the count’s policy.46 M. Bonet Donato has indicated that the counts and the archbishopric carried out the cooperative resettlements in order to divide economic profits, and has concluded that the archbishop was able to obtain the victory because he was given more of the profits in the pacts.47 However, given our analysis of the sources, we have to assume that the count himself not only tried to consolidate his rights, but also to give rights and tasks to the archbishop. We can suppose that promoting resettlement was a priority in the count’s policy, even above the consolidation of his own rights. In the next part, we explore this policy of entrusting the task of settlement to the archbishop in greater depth.

2. 3. The count’s entrusting of the settlement to the archbishopric In addition to the cooperative nature of the pacts of resettlement, we can observe cases in which the count of Barcelona depended on the archbishopric of Tarragona. Sometimes he entrusted the resettlement to the clerics of the archbishopric. In 1158, Ramon Berenguer IV gave a place called Albiol to the archdeacon of the church of Tarragona, Joan de Martorell, and entrusted him with its resettlement and construction: [...] dono, laudo, atque confirmo tibi Ioanni, archidiacono Tarraconensis et omni progeniei tuae sive posteritati ipsum Albiol pro hereditate propia et franca, tali quoque pacto ut facias ibi fortitudinem et poplationem [...] 45

Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 736-738. Josep Maria Font, “Franquezas, costumbres y privilegios de la ciudad y Campo de Tarragona”, Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español, 66 (1996), pp. 119-149, especially p. 126. 47 Bonet, “La Feudalització de Tarragona (segle XII)”, pp. 211-239, especially, pp. 231-238. 46

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In this text, the count only retained the loyalty of the settlers. Furthermore, Joan became canon of the archbishop and gave these estates to the church of Tarragona and the archbishop in 1164.49 In 1170, Count Alfonso I entrusted the resettlement of Escornalbou to a cleric of the church of Tarragona, Joan de Sant Boi. The situation of this southwest part of Tarragona was not stable; groups of Muslims appeared as bandits, even after the conquest of Tortosa and Lleida by Ramon Berenguer IV.50 Alfonso I tried to stabilise the area. In this pact, the count gave estates to the cleric as alodioum and ordered him to enforce the law of Tarragona: [...] dono, laudo [...] per proprium alodium, liberum et francium et ingenuum, cum omni iure meo, tam de decimis quam omnibus aliis rebus, et cum omni libertate ad habendum et possidendum [...] Et quicumque ibi venerint et habitaverint, iudicentur et distrigantur secundum leges et mores et consuetudines Terraconensis civitatis.51

The count required him to rebuild and resettle the zone, with defensive buildings and a church belonging to the church of Tarragona. We can suppose that the count needed the power of the church of Tarragona in order to stabilise the area. In 1180, in Montroig, southeast of Escornalbou, the count issued a pact of resettlement with the archbishop of Tarragona and another secular lord of the zone.52 In this pact, the lords reserved judicial and tribute rights, while giving the settlers houses, estates and their attachments. Five years later, in 1185, Alfonso left Montroig to the archbishop and it remained under the administration of the archbishopric of Tarragona.53 With the cooperative nature of the pacts of resettlement and entrusting the resettlement to the archbishopric, we can understand that the count depended on the power of the archbishopric of Tarragona to resettle around Tarragona, his main area of resettlement. We can consider that both the count and the archbishop enjoyed benefits under this strategy: the 48

Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, 161-162 (doc. n. 109). Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 740-741. 50 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 743-744. 51 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 196-198 (doc. n. 138). 52 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 220-221 (doc. n. 159). 53 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, p. 732. 49

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count had no need to take care of the task of resettlement himself, delegating it to the clerics of the archbishopric, who were from the noble families that had influence in the area. The archbishopric could increase its rights and expand its area of influence. When the counts entrusted the resettlement to lay people or gave the pacts of resettlement to groups of settlers, the archbishop also became involved and obtained profits: the clergy, sometimes the archbishop himself, signed the pacts, obliging the colonisers to pay tributes and swear loyalty to the archbishop of Tarragona.54 There were fewer pacts in which the count entrusted the settlement to lay people. Moreover, he usually chose people with whom he had a close bond, and imposed conditions on them, such as swearing loyalty to the count, respecting the rights of the archbishopric, and granting the pacts with the confirmation of the archbishopric. We understand that the count also made use of the church of Tarragona to control the secular lords of the region and to limit the increase in their power. As mentioned, the archbishopric of Tarragona also carried out the resettlement in that same period. In previous studies, researchers have usually argued that the expansion of the area in which the archbishopric could have had influence was a result of the resettlement by the archbishopric itself. However, with facts taken into account regarding the geographic distribution of resettlement activities and its cooperative nature, we can see that the expansion of the territory of the archbishopric was also the result of the count’s policy.

3. The relationship between the count and the archbishopric of Tarragona observed in the mediation of conflicts 3. 1. The cases mediated by the archbishopric In territories recently conquered from the Muslims, the rights of the estates, and the usufructuary rights to pastures, rivers, forests, etc., were still not consolidated. In the documents of the monasteries of Poblet and Santes Creus and in the military orders, we encounter numerous conflicts regarding those rights. There were also many conflicts between the churches over ecclesiastical rights such as tithes. In those conflicts, 54

For examples of the count entrusting the resettlement to lay people, see: Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 115-116, 128, 133, 143-144, 151-153, 155-157, 162-164 (docs. n. 71, 77, 81, 83, 91, 98, 101, 103, 110).

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mediation was often the responsibility of the archbishop. It seems normal that the archbishop mediated the conflicts between churches of its archbishopric, but the archbishop also mediated the conflicts between churches and lay people. In 1173, a document of the Order of the Temple states that the order had a problem with a layperson concerning an estate, and this problem was solved through the mediation of the archbishop of Tarragona and other people: [...] coram domino archiepiscopo et coram multis aliis frugibus hominibus ad pacem et ad concordiam venerunt.55

In 1174, also in a document of the order, we can see another case in which the archbishop mediated in a conflict concerning estates between the lords of the area, Ponç de Cervera, Ramon de Torroja and Ramon de Cervera: [...] post multas contenciones [...], venerunt ad pacem et concordiam laudamento Guillemi, Tarragonensi archiepiscopi, Apostolice Sedis legati.56

In 1194, when a church of Barberà and the Order of the Temple made a pact about the right of tithes, the archbishop appeared as a witness, along with men who had influence in the area.57 So, in conflicts between the church and lay people, between lay people themselves, and between churches, the archbishop of Tarragona appeared as a mediator.

3. 2. Cooperation between the count of Barcelona and the archbishop of Tarragona in mediation Naturally, not all conflicts were mediated by the archbishops of Tarragona. Other secular and ecclesiastical lords also intrevened in disputes. On various occasions, the count of Barcelona mediated conflicts, sometimes in cooperation with the archbishop of Tarragona. The case where their cooperation is clearest is the conflict between the 55 Col.lecció Diplomàtica de la Casa del Temple de Barberà, pp. 147-148 (doc. n. 67). 56 Col.lecció Diplomàtica de la Casa del Temple de Barberà, pp. 152 (doc. n. 71). 57 Col.lecció Diplomàtica de la Casa del Temple de Barberà, pp. 263-264 (doc. n. 173).

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monastery of Poblet and some nearby secular lords during the decade of 1180. The monastery of Poblet was founded by Count Ramon Berenguer IV in 1151, just after the conquest of New Catalonia. The count founded various communities around the monasteries in this period, including Vimbodí, Vinaixa and Tarrés. We can suppose that the monastery was at the heart of the count’s resettlement activities.58 After some thirty years, resettlement had advanced, the population had increased and the shortage of estates began to be a problem, causing conflicts between the monastery and the inhabitants of the nearby communities. Around 1181, Pope Alexander III ordered the archbishop of Tarragona and the bishop of Urgell to oblige the secular lords Ramon de Torroja and Ponç de Cervera to compensate him for the damage they had caused in the territory of Poblet.59 They had invaded the lands of Poblet, occupied the estates illegally and injured the clerics.60 The archbishop of Tarragona intended to mediate the conflict on 17th June 1181 on the Pope’s orders; [...] dompnus B. Terrachonensis archiepiscopus adiudicaverit super terminis de Avimbodi et terminis ville superioris de Spelunca, inter monasterium Populeti et R. de Turrerubea et Gaiam uxorem eius, de quibus nunc est contencio inter eos.61

Alfonso I, the count of Barcelona, also listened to the testimony of the archdeacon of Tarragona, confirmed the boundary of the territory of the monastery, and declared that the estates belonged to the monastery: [...] Vidi contentionem [...] sicut audivi a Johanne terraconensi qui tunc ibi cum eo fuit; et ideo ego ivi illuc cum [...] Johanne archidiacono Terrachone et multis aliis probis viris et videns illos terminus sicut scripti sunt in carta quam pater meus fecit, emparavit et reddidi illos terminus monasterio Populeti.62

With these decisions, on 13th June 1187, the bishop of Barcelona ordered the invaders to pay compensation for the damage they had caused to the monastery. He also declared that the people who occupied the estates of the monastery would be able to use them until their death, but that they should then be returned to the monastery, by the order of the king 58

Regarding the monastery, see: Agustí Altisent, Història de Poblet (Poblet: Abadia de Poblet, 1974). 59 Cartulari de Poblet, p. 29 (doc. n. 55). 60 Cartulari de Poblet, pp. 27-28 (doc. n. 53). 61 Cartulari de Poblet, pp. 28-29 (doc. n. 54). 62 Cartulari de Poblet, pp. 26-27 (doc. n. 52).

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(the count of Barcelona) and in the presence of the archbishop of Tarragona: Ego Bernardus Barchinonensis episcopus, ex mandato domini Regis [...] condemno [...] in presentia domini B. Terrachonensis archiepiscopi [...].63

In this conflict, we can clearly see the cooperation between the count and the archbishop of Tarragona. After the declaration by the bishop of Barcelona, in 1187, they began to sell the estates that were the causes of the conflict to the monastery.64 Those who were allowed to use the estates until their death began to sell them to the monastery before they died. Given the fact that the peasants gave up their lands, we can conclude that the decision of 1187 was effective. We can also observe this type of cooperation between the count and the archbishop in some conflicts involving the monastery of Santes Creus. In 1179, when the monastery had a conflict with some lay people, there was a vicarius of the count and clerics, together with some advisors: [...] laude et consilio proborum hominum, scilicet, Raimundi Ganagol, vicarii, et Bernardi Marcucii et P. de Riv polleto et Bernardi de Cerriano, primicherii, et R. Ferrarii et Petri Burrulli et R., archidiaconi, et R., decani, et Geraldi de Seros, nec non et aliorum proborum hominum venerunt ad finem et concordiam.65

In 1188, the count and the archbishop of Tarragona mediated a conflict between the monastery and the inhabitants of Cabra in cooperation with the clerics of the bishopric of Barcelona.66 The archbishopric of Tarragona also mediated in the conflicts of the count of Barcelona.67 For example, in 1192, in a conflict between the count and Arberto de Castellvell about the rights of estates southwest of 63

Cartulari de Poblet, p. 24 (doc. n. 48). For an example, see: Cartulari de Poblet, pp. 41-46, 62 (docs. n. 74, 76, 78-82 and 109). 65 Diplomatari del monestir de Santa Maria de Santes Creus, I, pp. 329-330 (doc. n. 223). 66 Diplomatari del monestir de Santa Maria de Santes Creus, pp. 419-23 (doc. n. 295). 67 Regarding the solutions to conflicts that the count himself had in this epoch, see: Flocel Sabaté, “Judici entre el comte Berenguer IV i Bernat d’Anglesola”, Ilerda, 49 (1991), pp. 129-142. 64

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Tarragona, the archbishop ruled: [...] post longas contenciones et placita…mediante consilio domini Berengarii Terrachonensis episcopi [...] veniunt ad finem et concordiam et ad amicabilem transaccionem in hunc modum.68

From these facts, we can conclude that the archbishop played an important role in the conflicts concerning Tarragona, completing the work of the count. In this epoch, in Catalonia, the judicial rights did not just belong to the count. On the contrary, bishops, abbots and secular lords also shouldered responsibilities for mediation.69 The cooperation between the count and the archbishop had its origin in this local tradition of Catalonia. In other areas of New Catalonia, the count of Barcelona and the archbishop of Tarragona also collaborated in the mediation of conflicts. In the 1150s, the count ordered the archbishop to mediate in a conflict between the bishop of Tortosa and the Order of Saint John about the right to tithes.70 In 1189, the count mediated in a conflict about water rights in Tortosa between the Order of the Temple and the Order of Saint John with the archbishop of Tarragona and the bishop of Lleida in Tarragona.71 In the assemblies of the Peace and Truce, which were held to maintain order throughout Catalonia, the archbishop of Tarragona appeared as the leader of the clergy who mainly supported the legates of the Pope or the counts of Barcelona.72 All these facts show that the archbishop played a vital role in maintaining order in the county of Barcelona. This political situation surely consolidated the authority of the archbishop. From all these examples, we can conclude that the archbishop of Tarragona played an indispensable role in the resettlement and the maintenance of order around Tarragona, that is, in the two main political aims of the count in New Catalonia. His importance is especially evident in the mediation in cases concerning the churches. As shown above, New Catalonia was the region where ecclesiastical lords were emerging in various places and shouldering an indispensable role in resettlement. It is 68 Alfonso II Rey de Aragón, Conde de Barcelona y Marques de Provenza, pp. 740742 (doc. n. 570). 69 Regarding the role of the Church in mediating conflicts in the epoch, see: Sabaté, La feudalización de la sociedad catalana, pp. 219-242. 70 Diplomatari de la catedral de Tortosa (1076-1193), pp. 100-101 (doc. n. 50). 71 Alfonso II Rey de Aragón, Conde de Barcelona y Marques de Provenza, pp. 655658 (doc. n. 495). 72 Les Constitucions de Pau i Treva de Catalunya (segles XI-XIII), ed. by Gener Gonzalvo (Barcelona: Generalitat de Catalunya, 1994), pp. 53-82, 92-111 (docs. n. 12, 13, 14, 15 and 17).

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thus natural that the archbishopric of Tarragona, the leader of the Church of the region, would shoulder an important role in the maintenance of order. For this reason, the archbishopric mediated both in person and on the count’s behalf. We can conclude that the archbishopric consolidated its power and authority not only by itself, but also thanks to the count’s policy. However, it surely was not favourable to the count that one of the ecclesiastical lords in his territory became so powerful, and that he gained such authority in secular matters. So why did the count have to rely on the archbishop of Tarragona?

4. The background of the count’s dependence on the Church 4. 1. Foreign policy To understand the reason for the count’s dependence on the archbishopric of Tarragona better, we first have to understand the political activities of the count, especially his foreign policy. After Count Ramon Berenguer III married the countess of Provence and inherited the county of Provence at the beginning of the 12th century, the counts of Barcelona were in conflict with the aristocrats, such as the count of Toulouse, and the cities in the south of France throughout the 12th century.73 Moreover, the counts of Barcelona of the epoch had to intervene in the Iberian Peninsula. For example, Count Alfonso I conquered the south of Aragon in the 1170s. So geographically, the field of activities of the count of Barcelona was very extensive: from Montpelier and Marseilles in the south of France, to Saragossa and Teruel in the Iberian Peninsula.74 This difficult situation must have limited the counts’ ability to take care of the resettlement of New Catalonia and required them to look for others to do it on their behalf. 73 Josep Maria Salrach, Història de Catalunya. El procés de feudalització (segles III-XII) (Barcelona: Edicions 62, 1987), II, pp. 348-352 and 390-398. Regarding the policy of the house of the count of Barcelona in the South of France, see: Robert d’Abadal, “À propos de la domination de la maison comtale de Barcelona sur le Midi français”, Annales du Midi, 76 (1964), pp. 315-345; Martin Aurell, “L’expansion catalane en Provence au XIIe siècle”, Formació i l’expansió del feudalisme català, 5-6 (1985-1986), pp. 175-197. 74 Regarding the itinerary of Alfonso I, see: Joaquim Miret, “Itinerario del rey Alfonso I de Cataluña y II en Aragón”, Boletín de la Academia de Buenas Letras de Barcelona, 2 (1903-1904), pp. 257-278, 389-423 and 437-474.

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4. 2. Lay people in the county of Barcelona However, it was not easy for the counts to entrust resettlement to the secular lords. In the middle of the 11th century, there were rebellions by lords who had increased their power by forming their own estates on the frontier with Muslim territories.75 In addition to this, we know that the feudal lords consolidated their rights and powers throughout the 12th century; in the first half of the century, the counts of Barcelona could not suppress this tendency because they needed the cooperation of those secular lords in the battles against the Muslims. The peasants wrote various documents with complaints, querimoniae, about how their taxes and feudal obligations to the lords increased throughout the 12th century.76 Meanwhile, according to J. M. Salrach, the secular lords who occupied the posts of vicarius, the officers responsible for administration and local courts, tried to convert this power into private rights, thereby reducing the control of the count over their vicarious.77 In the second half of the 12th century (the epoch after the defeat of the Muslims in Catalonia), the counts tried to reform the administration of their domains and rights by various means: they reorganised the system of bailius and vicarius, they utilised the citizens and Jews as their officials, and they controlled their rights, signing various contracts and pacts.78 Bonnassie, La Catalogne du milieu du Xe à la fin du XIe siècle; Pierre Bonaisse, “Sur la formation du féodalisme catalan et sa première expansion (jusqu’à 1150 environ)”, Formació i expansió del feudalisme català, ed. by Jaume Portella (Girona: Col·legi Universitari de Girona and Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona, 1986), pp. 7-21. 76 Blanca Garí, “Las querimoniae feudales en la documentación catalana del siglo XII (1131-1178)”, Medievalia, 5 (1981), pp. 7-49. Regarding the development of the control of peasants by feudal lords, see: Paul Freedman, “The enserfment process in medieval Catalonia: evidence from ecclesiastical sources”, Viator, 13 (1982), pp. 225-244; Josep Maria Salrach, “La renta feudal en Cataluña en el siglo XII: estudio de los honores, censos, usos y dominios de la Casa de Barcelona”, Estudios sobre renta, fiscalidad y finanzas en la Cataluña bajomedieval (Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1993), pp. 29-70. 77 Salrach, Història de Catalunya, II, pp. 410-412. 78 Regarding these policies of the counts of the epoch, see: Thomas N. Bisson, “Some Characteristics of Mediterranean Territorial Power in the Twelfth Century”, Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, 123 (1975), pp. 143-150; Thomas N. Bisson, “The Rise of Catalonia: Identity, Power and Ideology in a Twelfth-Century Society”, Annales: Economies, Société, Civilisations, 39 (1984), pp. 454-479; Thomas N. Bisson, The Crisis of the Twelfth Century: Power, Lordship, and the Origins of European Government (Princeton and Oxford: 75

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In this context, the counts avoided entrusting the work of resettlement to lay people. Of the twenty pacts of resettlement issued by Ramon Berenguer IV, secular lords received only eight. Clerics or groups of settlers received the others. Moreover, the eight pacts that the secular lords received were for smaller estates.79 The settlers themselves could not take the initiative to resettle the area. In the resettlement of the kingdom of Castile and Leon in the 11th and 12th centuries, the king gave privileges to the settlers so that they could defend themselves. Numerous settlers gathered and organised the resettlement by themselves. This phenomenon did not occur in Catalonia, as resettlement was focused around Tarragona, far from the border with the Muslim territories. What is more, the separation between the knights and peasants beginning in the 11th century was far stricter in Catalonia.

4. 3. The Church and the count of Barcelona On the other hand, in the counties of Catalonia in that period, there was a tradition in which the higher clerics, like bishops and abbots, cooperated with the counts, fulfilling political roles.80 As we have observed in the process of the conquest of Tarragona, even after the Gregorian Reform, the bishops kept political roles in Catalonia. Furthermore, in Tarragona, the archbishop had especially great power, as the superior lord of the city. It was logical for the count to use and rely on the power and authority of the archbishop. We also know that the archbishops of Tarragona usually had strong personal bonds with the counts. Archbishop Oleguer (1117-1137), who led the conquest of Tarragona from the Muslims and then became the first archbishop of Tarragona, was a son of a subject of the count of Barcelona. Moreover, he was elected bishop of Barcelona under Ramon Berenguer III. The third archbishop, Bernat Tort (1146-1163), was known as a loyal subject of Ramon Berenguer IV and was a canon of the monastery of Saint Ruf in France while Oleguer was abbot of the monastery. The fifth archbishop, Guillem de Torroja (1171-1174) also had the confidence of the count. Ramon Berenguer IV appointed him as one of the regents of his son and successor, Alfonso I, on his death. The sixth archbishop, Berenguer de Vilademuls (1174-1194), carried out a diplomatic role in the negotiations Princeton University Press, 2009), pp. 345-349, 371-378 and 499-515. 79 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 109, 110, 128, 133, 143-144, 151-153, 155-157 (docs. 67, 77, 81, 91, 98, 101, 103 and 110). 80 Regarding this tradition, see: Abe, “La Reforma Gregoriana y Catalunya”, pp. 935.

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with the count of Toulouse as a representative of the count. The seventh, Ramon Xetmar (1194-1198), was one of the executors of the last will of Alfonso I.81 We know that only people who were personally familiar with the counts of Barcelona were appointed archbishops, at least until the end of the 12th century. We understand that the count entrusted the important roles and power to the archbishops of Tarragona under the condition that he had influence over their selection. This was the political situation of the count of Barcelona in the second half of the 12th century: he governed many territories and could not spend much time resettling and maintaining order in New Catalonia. He could not entrust the role to the secular lords as he could not control them at that time; the settlers themselves did not have initiative in the resettlement, as was the case in the kingdoms of Castile and Leon; the bishoprics traditionally took on political roles and the count influenced their selection. We can conclude that the count did not only allow the archbishopric of Tarragona to accumulate territory, power and authority, as argued in previous research. In fact, he actively decided to rely on the power and authority of the archbishop in order to consolidate his position.

5. The results of the count’s dependence on the Church 5. 1. The decline of the count’s influence and the conflicts with the archbishopric Since the 1170s, there is a noticeable decline in the influence of the count over the selection of the archbishop. Until the fourth archbishop after the conquest of Tarragona, the choice of archbishops is not explained in Arxiepiscopologi de la Santa Església Metropolitana i Primada de Tarragona. Regarding the election of the fifth archbishop, Guillem de Tarroja (1171-1174), it is stated that he was “elected by the bishops belonging to the archbishopric” and the sixth, Berenguer de Vilademuls (1174-1194), was apparently “elected by the bishops belonging to the archbishopric and the canons of Tarragona.”82 Regarding the eighth, Ramon de Rocabertí (1198-1215), it confirms that he was an archdeacon in the archbishopric before becoming archbishop. The families of the sixth and eighth archbishops, those of Vilademuls and Rocabertí, were lords

81 82

Arxiepiscopologi de la Santa Església Metropolitana, pp. 79-131. Arxiepiscopologi de la Santa Església Metropolitana, pp. 95-111.

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with strong influence in the area as well as family bonds between them.83 We can understand that the lords around Tarragona and the clergy of the archbishopric began to have more influence over the election of the archbishopric than the counts. With the fall of the count’s influence over the archbishopric, conflicts began to arise. At the beginning of the 1170s, the count and the archbishopric made a pact to solve a conflict concerning some rights in Barberà.84 In the 1190s, there was a conflict between the count’s mother, Sancha of Castile, and the archbishopric, regarding estates near Tarragona.85 There was also a conflict over Salou. In 1194, Count Alfonso I offered Salou to a man called Jimeno as a fief, with the right to hold the weekly market among other things, in exchange for resettling the town.86 However, the archbishopric of Tarragona insisted that Salou should belong to the Church.87 Aware of these conflicts, in 1205, by the petition of Peter I, Pope Innocent III sent a letter to the archbishop, in which he recommended the division of territories between them: Proposuit nobis carissimus in Christo filius noster P[etrus] Aragonum Rex Illustris quod quedam in campo Terraconensis cum eo pro indiviso habetis, quorum communio consuevit inter vos discordias suscitare, nobis humiliter supplicans quos vobis scribere dignaremur ut ea cum ipso dividere curaretis.88

So, at the end of the 12th century, the count gradually lost influence on the archbishopric and conflicts began to arise. As we have mentioned, since the time of Alfonso I, the count of Barcelona began to try to reorganise territories and rights and attempted to reinforce their administration.89 The frequent interventions of the count in 83

Santiago Sobrequés, Els Barons de Catalunya (Barcelona: Vicens Vives, 1989), pp. 38-41. 84 Bonet, “Feudalización de Tarragona”, p. 235; Tarragona Cristiana, I, pp. XXIXXXX (doc. n. 27). 85 Arxiepiscopologi de la Santa Església Metropolitana, pp. 125. 86 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, I, pp. 271-273 (doc. n. 197). 87 Font, Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, II, pp. 729-730. 88 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, II, pp. 657 (doc. n. 549). 89 Regarding this reform of the governance system, see: Thomas N. Bisson, “The Problem of Feudal Monarchy: Aragon, Catalonia and France”, Speculum, 53 (1978), pp. 460-478.

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Tarragona were part of this policy. The conflict with the count of Toulouse was settled in the time of Peter I, so we can suppose that the count was able to dedicate more energy to the direct governance of New Catalonia.90 The cooperative governance between the count and the Church in New Catalonia was ending at the close of the 12th century. It was the logical result of the effort to centralise rule under the counts, as was common across Europe during this period.

5. 2. The financial situation of the count of Barcelona However, in Catalonia, there were some factors that made it impossible for the count to oppose the church directly. Above all, the count had serious economic problems; the territories which he governed were too extensive and their borders too long to be defended from their enemies. Moreover, in the feudal system of Catalonia, the lord could not utilise the power of their retainers easily. The retainers were not obliged to serve their lords financially, and their military duties were also limited.91 This meant that the counts had to offer compensation to the retainers and knights in their territory for them to participate in the wars against the Muslims or other conflicts. As we have seen, during the conquest of New Catalonia, Ramon Berenguer III had to offer Tarragona to the bishop of Barcelona; Ramon Berenguer IV gave some parts of Tortosa and Lleida to the Order of the Temple, the community of Genoa, the Montcada family and the count of Urgell.92 Minor lords and knights also received estates after the conquest that corresponded to their contributions. Unlike in the war against the Muslims, retainers were not offered estates for their role in the war. Instead, they were compensated by the count with money oreconomic rights. Various phenomena of the epoch indicate the difficult financial situation the counts faced. Alfonso I sold some territories to ecclesiastical lords: he 90

David Abulafia, The Western Mediterranean Kingdoms 1200-1500: The Struggle for Dominion (London and New York: Longman, 1997), p. 35. 91 Regarding the character of the feudal system of Catalonia, see: Bisson, “Feudalism in Twelfth-Century Catalonia”; Sabaté, La Feudalitzación de la Sociedad Catalana. Regarding the feudal pacts, see: Adam J. Kosto, Making Agreements in Medieval Catalonia: Power, Order, and the Written Word, 10001200 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001); Michel Zimmermann, Écrire et lire en Catalogne (IXe-XIIe siècle), 2 vols. (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2003), pp. 38-60. 92 Liber Feudorum Maior, I, pp. 485-489 (docs. n. 462-465); Forey, The Templars in the Corona de Aragón, p. 25.

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sold the town of Vimbodí to the monastery of Poblet in 1172 and the city of Tortosa and its outskirts to the Order of the Temple in 1182.93 He also tried to collect money from individuals, churches and the inhabitants of some towns in return for his protection. For example, in 1190, he received financial tributes from a church in the bishopric of Barcelona and promised it his protection.94 He intended to convert the bovaje, the exceptional tax that was collected in some assemblies of Peace and Truce, into a permanent tribute.95 However, as the count’s power was relatively weak in Catalonia and the feudal lords enjoyed various rights, this was not easy. In the reign of Peter I, the count’s financial situation was weakened by the continuation of the wars against the Muslims and in the south of France. He usually solved this problem by selling assets and borrowing money. There are various documents that show how he sold or mortgaged his patrimonies. By the time he died, most of the count’s assets were in the hands of other people.96 He sold and mortgaged his estates and rights to citizens, lords, and above all, to the Church.97 For example, he sold a castle to the monastery of Somport for 7,000 solidus in 1211.98 The archbishopric of Tarragona was one of his main creditors. In 1208, the count received 11,500 solidus from the archbishopric: Nos Petrus, Dei gratia Rex Aragonum et Comes Barchinone [...]. Recognoscimus etiam quod non ex debito vel ex gratia et liberalitate vestra servivistis nobis, vos et homines Terraconensis campis, in undecim milibus et quingentis solidos ad nostra debita persolvenda.99

93

Cartulari de Poblet, pp. 205-206 (doc. n. 33); Liber Feudorum Maior, I, pp. 492-495 (doc. n. 466). 94 Alfonso II Rey de Aragón, Conde de Barcelona y Marques de Provenza, pp. 674675 (doc. n. 511). 95 Pere Ortí, “La primera articulación del estado feudal en Cataluña a través de un impuesto: el bovaje (ss. XII-XIII)”, Hispania, 209 (2001), pp. 967-997. 96 Regarding the count’s financial situation, see: Manuel Sánchez, El naixement de la fiscalitat d’Estat a Catalunya (segles XII-XIV) (Vic and Girona: Eumo and Universitat de Girona, 1998), pp. 29-48. 97 For an example, see: María Vilar, “Actividades financieras de la Orden del Temple en la Corona de Aragón”, VII Congreso de Historia de la Corona de Aragón (Barcelona: s. n. 1962), II, pp. 577-586. 98 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, III, pp. 1285-1287 (doc. n. 1217). 99 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, II, pp. 843-844 (doc. n. 767).

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The following year, 1209, he also received 10,000 solidus from the archbishopric of Tarragona.100 In 1212, when the countess of Urgell, Elvira, lent 7,000 solidus to Peter I, the archbishop of Tarragona, Ramon de Rocabertí, took on the role of witness.101 We can suppose that the countess required the guarantee of the archbishop to lend money to the count. There is also a document of the son of Count James I (1213-1276) in which James promised to protect the archbishopric of Tarragona in return for the money that the archbishopric lent his father.102 Peter I had sufficient motive to wish to maintain an amicable relationship with the archbishopric.

5. 3. The relationship between the count and the Papacy At the same time, Count Peter I had to keep a close relationship with the Pope, Innocent III (1198-1216), in order to carry out his policies.103 Peter hoped to be crowned in Rome by the Pope, and he communicated this wish to the Papacy several times.104 Moreover, for some issues, such as the divorce from his wife Maria de Montpelier, the war against the Muslims and the conflicts in the south of France, the count needed the permission of the Papacy. The Papacy increased its interest in the Iberian Peninsula in this period. Pope Celestine III (1191-1198) was a legate of the Pope in Hispania before he became Pope. It was at this moment that the tension between the Muslims, Almohads, and the Christian kingdoms intensified.105 The Pope ordered the count to participate in wars against the Muslims and the Cathars on various occasions.

100

Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, II, pp. 931-932 (doc. n. 856). 101 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, III, pp. 1352 (doc. n. 1286). 102 Documentos de Jaime I de Aragón, I, pp. 39-40 (doc. n. 10). 103 Damian Smith, “Motivo y significado de la coronación de Pedro II de Aragón”, Hispania, 60/1 (2000), pp. 163-179. 104 Pere I was crowned in 1204 in Rome. La documentación pontificia hasta Inocencio III, I, pp. 238-239 (doc. n. 307). 105 Regarding the relations between the Papacy and Catalonia until the twelfth century, see: Paul Kehr, El Papat i el Principat de Catalunya fins a la unió amb Aragó: traducció de R. D’Abadal i Vinyals (Barcelona: Fundació Patxot, 1931); Bonifacio Palacios, “La bula de Inocencio III y la coronación de los reyes de Aragón”, Hispania, 29 (1969), pp. 485-504; Damian J. Smith, Innocent III and the crown of Aragon: The limits of papal authority (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004).

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5. 4. Concessions by the count of Barcelona For these reasons (financial problems and the need to curry favour with the Pope), Count Peter I had to make various concessions to the Church.106 First, he had to renounce his rights over the Church, including the right to confirm the investiture of clergymen. Between 1206 and 1207, the count completely conceded the election of every bishop, abbot and other clergymen of the Crown to the archbishopric of Tarragona without the need for the consent of the count: Regi regnum, per quem reges regnant, reverentiam debitam exhibentes, et sponse eius, sancte videlicet Ecclesie, integram libertatem conservare volentes, pessimam consuetudinem a nobis hactenus observatam, qua electionem prelatorum sine nostro consilio et assensu procedere non permittebamus, amore Dei et sancte Ecclesie et pro remedio anime nostre et parentum nostrorum relaxamus, vobisque et universis successoribus vestris et conventibus in omni iurisdictione nostra constitutis liberam eligendi facultatem per nos et per omnes successores nostros.107

Pope Innocent III confirmed this treatment in a letter sent to the bishops of the Crown in 1207.108 In addition to the liberation of the investiture, in 1209, Peter I and the archbishop of Tarragona agreed to divide up the rights of the counts and Church.109 Secondly, the count conceded some rights to the archbishopric. When the archbishop offered the count 11,500 solidus in 1208, the count offered protection to the Church of Tarragona, confirmed its rights and privileges and promised that the aid would not become a permanent tribute: Nos Petrus, Dei gratia Rex Aragonum et Comes Barchinone, fatemur et recognoscimus [...] vobis R[aimundo] Terraconensis archiepiscopo quod nec habemus nec habere debemus aut facere forciam vel questiam in Civitate Terracone neque in Campo vel territorio eius. Convenimus autem vobis firmiter quod statum Terrachone in campi et jura Ecclesie servabimus fideliter et faciemus servari prout iustum fuerit [...] Unde promittimus bona fide quod predictum servicium sive succursus vobis et 106

Odilo Engels, “Privilegios de Pedro el Católico a favor de obispos catalanes”, VII Congreso de Historia de la Corona de Aragón, II, pp. 33-39; Angel Juan Martín, “Política monástica de Alfonso II y de Pedro II de Aragón. Datos y sugerencias”, VII Congreso de Historia de la Corona de Aragón, II, pp. 41-48. 107 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, doc. n. 696. 108 La documentación pontificia hasta Inocencio III, I, pp. 274-275 (doc. n. 373). 109 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, III, pp. 1007-1008 (doc. n. 943).

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ecclesie et hominium Civitatis Terracone et campi in aliquo nocere non possit unquam vel in posterum aliquod preiudicium generare, et quod vos bona fide semper protegamus et jura vestra et ecclesie et hominium Civitatis Terracone et ipsius territorii potenter et fideliter defendamus.110

This promise was repeated when the count received more financial aid from the archbishop in 1209.111 Then, in 1211, the archbishop confirmed that the count had no right to a claim for help even in the war with the Muslims.112 So, the count was losing his economic rights over the archbishopric of Tarragona, the same archbishopric conquered recently from the Muslims under the initiative of the count. Thirdly, concerning the governance of Tarragona and its region, the count eventually confirmed and reinforced the rights of the archbishop. In 1206, Peter I ordered all the knights and inhabitants of Tarragona and its plain to swear loyalty to the Church of Tarragona: Unde volumus et vobis firmiter precipiendo mandamus, quatenus eidem archiepiscopo et Ecclesie Tarracone hominium et fidelitatis juramentum, sicut fidelis vassallus suo naturalo domino, debetur prestare.113

The count also confirmed that he had no supreme power over the inhabitants of Tarragona: in 1209, Peter I confirmed that they did not have to pay the customary tributes.114 In 1211, the count promised that he would not extend military service, exercitum nor cavalcatam, receiving 2,000 solidus from the archbishop: [...] nos Petrus, Dei gratia Rex Aragonum et Comes Barchinone, 110

Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, II, pp. 843-844 (doc. n. 767). 111 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, II, pp. 931-932 (doc. n. 856). We know that Peter I promised the same to some monasteries in Old Catalonia and the bishoprics of Girona and Vic in 1207. We can assume that the count had received economic aid from these main churches of his territory before this point. Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, II, pp. 796-802 (docs. n. 712-717). 112 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, II, pp. 1204-1205 (doc. n. 1138). The count made this final promise to all the bishoprics in Catalonia, the one in Saragossa and the monastery of Ripoll. Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, III, pp. 1203-1204, 1206-1217 (docs. n. 1137, 1139-1144, 1146 and 1147). 113 Tarragona Cristiana, I, pp. XXVII-XXVIII (appendix, doc. n. 40). 114 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, II, pp. 931 (doc. n. 855).

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In this way, the supreme rights of the archbishopric in Tarragona were consolidated.116 The count also made various concessions to the archbishop regarding other towns on the plain of Tarragona. In 1206, the archbishop and the church of Tarragona asked the count to resolve a lawsuit between the archbishopric and a retainer of the count, Guillem de Tarragona. The count himself had given Guillem the rights to Valls and other estates, and the church complained about this, insisting that they belonged to the archbishopric: Audivimus altitudinem vestram velle concedere G[uillelmo] d[e] Terrachona Rivum mulorum et villam de Vallibus, et alia quedam i[n] campo et territorio Terrachonense quod, sicut credimus, de jure a nobis [nec] potet nec debet facere [...] Unde regie serenitatis vestre quantum possumus suplicamus quia in hoc factum nullatenus precedant[ur], et etiam amore Domini Pape Innocencii, modis quibus possumus int[erd]icim[us] ad eius audienciam, si procedere volueritis, appellantes, et personas nostras et Ecclesiam nostrum et omnes possessiones nostras et omnia jura et bona ad nos vel ad Ecclesiam nostrum pertinencia.117

Concessions made by the count in other towns, as well as in Valls, can be found. Regarding Cambrils, Peter I ordered its inhabitants to swear loyalty to the archbishop in June 1207: [...] recognocimus tibi Raymundo Tarraconensi Archiepiscopo et Ecclesie tue quod milites et omnes homines de Cambrils et terminis eius tenentur 115

Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, III, pp. 1255 (doc. n. 1191). 116 Regarding these privileges for the habitants of Tarragona, see: Font, “Franquezas, costumbres y privilegios de la ciudad y Campo de Tarragona”, pp. 119-149. 117 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, II, pp. 722-723 (doc. n. 628).

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prestare vobis et successoribus vestris nunc et semper hominium et fidelitatis sacramentum, salva fidelitate nostra, sicut ceteri homines Tarracone et totius campi.118

The count promised the inhabitants that he would not separate the town from his patrimony in March 1206.119 In May of the same year, he repeated the promise to the population: [...] ego Petrus, Dei gratia rex Aragonum, comes Barchinone et dominus Montispessulani, bono animo et spontanea voluntate promitto et convenio bona fide, per me et omnes successores meos, vobis universis hominibus de Cambrils presentibus et futuris quod nunquam vos donem, vendam, tradam vel comutem, vel de vobis comutationem aliquam alicui vel aliquibus faciam vel concedam aliquo modo vel aliqua ratione, immo semper vos et posteros vestros in meum et meorum ius et dominium habebo et retinebo.120

We can observe the count’s clear intention to keep the town under his control. Even so, after three years, the count had to recognise the supreme authority of the archbishopric over the town. The count also had to cede his rights to the archbishopric in Salou. As we have seen, since the 1190s, the count and the archbishop were in dispute over this town. In 1211, the right to govern the city was conceded to the archbishopric by the count.121 Valls, Cambrils and Salou were important towns around Tarragona. Valls has a strategic location, where a stream meets the Francolí River, and it was jointly founded by the count of Barcelona and the archbishopric of Tarragona. It was the main town of the area. Cambrils and Salou are coastal towns founded by the count of Barcelona and the subjects of various pacts of resettlement. Now we understand that, due to his financial weakness and the relationship with the Papacy, the count had no choice but to allow the archbishopric to escape from his control and influence, and what is more, to give it political rights over Tarragona and the main towns around it.

118

Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, II, pp. 775-777 (doc. n. 690). 119 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, II, p. 705 (doc. n. 607). 120 Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona, II, pp. 730-733 (doc. n. 634). 121 Cartas de población y franquicia de Cataluña, II, pp. 729-730.

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5. 5. The development of the relationship between the count of Barcelona and the archbishop of Tarragona through the Albigensian Crusade The superiority which the archbishopric of Tarragona enjoyed over the count was consolidated further during the Albigensian Crusade.122 In this crusade, the count of Barcelona of the epoch, Peter I, sided with the nobles of the south of France. He directed his army to the south of France to fight against the crusade led by Simon de Montfort, and to aid his ally, the count of Toulouse. As a result, he was excommunicated by Pope Innocent III, and he died in the battle of Muret.123 His successor, James I (1213-1276), only five years old at that time, was captured by Simon de Montfort. The county of Barcelona was thrown into a serious political crisis.124 Pope Innocent III resolved this complicated situation. James I’s mother, Marie de Montpellier, appointed the Pope as tutor of James in her will on her death in 1212. The Pope ordered Simon to send the young count/king to his territory.125 This notably consolidated the influence of the Papacy. The Pope wanted to direct the politics of the Crown and appointed the regents of Catalonia and Aragon. We can see the name of the archbishop of Tarragona among the regents of Catalonia: [...] Hinc est, quod nos hanc utilitatem attendentes circa dilectum filium Iacobum natum clare memorie P [etri] Regis Aragonie, ut ipsius et terre sue negocia per dilectum filium nobilem virum comitem Sancium, cui procuratio terre commissa esse dinoscitur, utilius disponantur, et ne ipsius responsum sibi vel aliis esse valeat captiosum a nonnullis, qui regni bonum diligunt requisiti, hos sibi consiliarios providimus deputandos: videlicet, in Aragonia [...]; in Cathalonia vero venerabilem fratrem nostrum [Raimundum] Terraconensem archiepiscopum et dilectos filios nobiles 122

Regarding the Albigensian Crusade, see Hamilton, “The Albigensian Crusade and Heresy”, The New Cambridge Medieval History, ed. by David Abulafia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), pp. 164-181; Martín Alvira, “La cruzada Albigense y la intervención de la Corona de Aragón en Occitania. El recuerdo de las crónicas hispnicas del siglo XIII”, Hispania, 50/3 (2000), pp. 947976. 123 Regarding this process, see: Damian. J. Smith, “Pope Innocent III and the Minority of James I”, Anuario de Estudios Medievales, 30/1 (2000), pp. 19-50; Martín Alvira, El Jueves de Muret: 12 de septiembre de 1213 (Barcelona: Universitat de Barcelona, 2002). 124 Smith, Innocent III and the Crown of Aragón, pp. 79-141. 125 La documentación pontificia hasta Inocencio III, I, pp. 574-575 (doc. n. 516).

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viros, Guillelmum de Cervaria et Guillelmum de Cardona et magistrum domus militia Templi in Ispania [...].126

It can be seen that the Pope intended to influence the politics of the county by using the Church leaders in the region. In this context, the political position of the Church was naturally strengthened. This is evident in the increasing independence of the archbishopric of Tarragona from the count’s power. In 1223, James I confirmed the superiority of the archbishop as a lord of Tarragona in return for 15,000 solidus.127 Moreover, in 1224, he paid homage to the archbishop for Tarragona: Ego Iacobus facio vobis, domino meno Sparrago, Terrachone archiepiscopo homagium pro eo quod habeo et teneo in Terrachone et campo, ex concessione sive largicione ecclesie.128

In a later period, when James I carried out a military campaign against the Muslims and received the aid of the archbishop, he was obliged to confirm that the aid was not required, but that it was a favour paid voluntarily by the archbishop: [...] non ex debito, sed ex sola gracia et mera liberalitate vestra.129 Bishops in the 12th century did not demand such confirmations when they aided the count in the wars against the Muslims.

Conclusion The political structure of Tarragona, in which the archbishop was the supreme lord, was formed not only by the initiative of archbishop, as confirmed in previous research, but also by the count’s policy and the historical context of Catalonia. Count Ramon Berenguer IV (1131-1162) tried to secularise policy and did not want to give political rights to the Church. Apart from during the peculiar process of the conquest of the city and when the counts were occupied with foreign affairs, counts like Ramon Berenguer IV and Alfonso I (1162-1196) applied traditional policies, that is, dependency to the church and clergymen in New Catalonia. In Tarragona, they tried to govern the area through the archbishopric and conceded it political rights, 126

La documentación pontificia hasta Inocencio III, I, 544-545 (doc. n. 537). Documentos de Jaime I, I, pp. 107-108 (doc. n. 47). 128 Documentos de Jaime I, I, pp. 124 (doc. n. 55). 129 Documentos de Jaime I, I, pp. 205-206 (doc. n. 110). 127

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maintaining their influence over the choice of the archbishops. In the resettlement and mediation of conflicts, we can see close cooperation between them and the concession of rights from the count to the archbishopric. However, for various reasons, the counts gradually lost their influence over the archbishopric; the clergy of the archbishopric and the families of feudal lords around Tarragona increased their influence over the archbishop; the count’s financial situation forced him to appeal to the Church for aid; and the Papacy had a strong influence. So, in the reign of Peter I (1196-1213), the count had to make various concessions to the archbishop of Tarragona; renouncing the right to intervene in the investiture of clergymen in his territories; promising to respect the property of the Church; and finally, making various confirmations of the superiority of the authority and rights as a lord of the archbishopric in Tarragona and its plain. Through the Albigensian Crusade, the archbishop of Tarragona became one of the regents of the young count, James I (12131276) and further consolidated his authority and power. In this context, the archbishop of Tarragona gradually escaped from the control of the count of Barcelona by keeping, or even reinforcing, the rights and the authority that the count had given him. The count’s policy, that is, the use of the archbishopric for his reign, led to the consolidation of the rights of the archbishopric as a lord. Moreover, due to the prevailing historical context in Catalonia, the Church became independent from the count, reinforcing its role and power in the long run.

THE CRISIS OF POWER: OTTO IV, KINGS OF LEÓN-CASTILE, THE CISTERCIAN ORDER1 FRANCESCO RENZI UNIVERSITÀ DEGLI STUDI DI BOLOGNA

Introduction Since the publication of the study by Louis J. Lékai at the end of the 70s, the historiography on the Cistercian Order has seen important progress and renovation. Especially at the end of the 90s, European studies challenged the idea of a “Cistercian Model”, trying to overcome the traditional dichotomy between the “ideals” –the image of the Order built by the Cistercian normative and literary texts– and the reality, that is to say the single cases represented by each abbey of the Order.2 Recently, 1

Abbreviations used: AHN, Archivo Histórico Nacional; ARG, Archivo del Reino de Galicia. 2 Louis J. Lékai, I cistercensi. Ideali e realtà, trans. by Goffredo Viti and Laura del Prà (Pavia: Comunità Cistercense della Certosa di Pavia, 1989); Guido Cariboni, “Il funzionamento della rete monastica cisterciense in Italia”, Dinamiche istituzionali delle reti monastiche e canonicali nell’Italia dei secoli X-XII (Negarine di San Pietro in Cariano: Il segno dei Gabrielli, 2007), pp. 380-397; Rinaldo Comba, “I cistercensi fra città e campagna nei secoli XII e XIII”, Studi Storici, 40 (1999), pp. 341-355; Cécile Caby, “Les cisterciens dans l’espace medieval italien”, Unanimité et diversité cisterciennes: filiations, réseaux, relectures du XII au XVII siècle, ed. by Nicole Bouter (Saint-Étienne: Publications de l’Université de Saint-Étienne, 2000), pp. 567-594. In the same volume see the works of: Marcel Pacaut, “Fidelité aux principes: adaptations, accomodements. Quelques temoignages”, Unanimité et diversité cisterciennes: filiations, réseaux, relectures du XII au XVII siècle, pp. 175-185; Elm Kaspar, “Mythos oder Realitat? Fragestellung und ergbnisse der Zisterzienser Forschung”, Unanimité et diversité cisterciennes: filiations, réseaux, relectures du XII au XVII siècle, pp. 17-48. See also the works of: Gert Melville, “Nuove tendenze della storiografia di area

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historians have tried to examine the development of the Order of Cîteaux not only from the economic perspective, as did the majority of the studies until the end of the 80s, but by placing emphasis on the importance of the social networks of the monasteries, which included the relationships between the white monks and popes, kings, emperors, aristocratic families, bishops and other ecclesiastical institutions; on the interpretation of the normative texts as a mean of reflecting on the self-representation of the Order during the 12th and 13th centuries; and on the myth of the origins and its significance for the history of the Order of Cîteaux.3 Considering these specific trends in the most recent monastic studies, the aim of this paper is to propose a different profile of the relationships between the Cistercians and the European monarchies between the 12th and 13th centuries through two examples: the alliance between the white monks and the King of Germany and Emperor Otto IV of Brunswick, and the protection granted by Kings Fernando II and Alfonso IX of León, and Alfonso VII of León-Castile, to the monasteries of the Order of Cîteaux in Galicia.4 These two cases are apparently very different, but share a characteristic: the crisis and the discontinuity of dynastic or territorial power, interpreted as a phase of transformation during which the white monks were instruments of the monarchs, but at the same time were able to elaborate an autonomous policy.

tedesca. Le ricerche di Dresda sulle strutture istituzionali degli ordini religiosi medievali”, Unanimité et diversité cisterciennes: filiations, réseaux, relectures du XII au XVII siècle, pp. 35-52; Barbara H. Rosenwein, “Views from Afar: North American perspective on Medieval Monasticism”, Dove va la storiografia monastica in Europa? Temi e metodi di ricerca per lo studio della vita monastica e regolare in età medievale alle soglie del terzo millennio, ed. by Giancarlo Andenna (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 2001), pp. 67-84. See also: Constance Hoffmann, The Cistercian evolution. The Invention of a religious Order in twelfth century Europe (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 2000), pp. 5, 9-14, 75, 88, 106, 110, 115, 127, 137, 177-78 and 221. 3 See: Francesco Renzi, “El Cister en Galicia entre los siglos XII y XIII: ¿una nueva perspectiva?”, ¿Qué implica ser medievalista? Prácticas y reflexiones en torno al oficio del historiador, ed. by Andrea V. Neyra and Gerardo F. Rodriguez (Mar del Plata: Universidad de Mar del Plata, 2012), pp. 139-170. 4 After the death of Alfonso VII in 1157, the kingdom of León-Castile was divided between his two sons; Fernando, who became King of León (1157/88) and Sancho, who obtained Castile (1157/8).

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1. The case of Otto of Brunswick The case of Otto of Brunswick is an extraordinary example of dynastic rupture in the Kingdom of Germany, where he was elected king in 1198, and the Holy Roman Empire. A strong historiographic prejudice that arose during the 1930s based on the work of Ernst Kantorowicz on Emperor Frederic II still weighs on the image of Otto of Brunswick. In Kantorowicz’s opinion, Otto was just a simple parenthesis between the reigns of the Hohenstaufen: a papal instrument –a sort of puppet in the hands of Pope Innocent III– rough, feeble and incapable of governing.5 Does this image portrayed by Kantorowicz correspond to Otto of Brunswick’s political action? After the death of the Emperor Henry VI of Hohenstaufen, son of Emperor Frederick I Barbarossa († 1190) in September 1197, the new elected Pope Innocent III organised his policy on a double level. On one hand, he needed to organise the lands that he was “recuperating” in central Italy, previously occupied at the end of the 12th century by Henry VI and garrisoned by his trusted men; especially Romagna and the March of Ancona. This land formed a strategic passage to the Kingdom of Southern Italy. On the other hand, Innocent was seeking Imperial confirmation of his territorial policy.6 5

Ernst Kantorowicz, Federico II imperatore, italian trans. by Gianni Pilone (Milan: Garzanti, 1976), pp. 40-42. See also: Francesco Renzi, “Storia locale e ‘grande’ storia: Ottone IV, il papa e i cistercensi di Fiastra”, I quaderni del M.Ae.S., 12-13 (2009-2010), pp. 193-217, especially, pp. 193-195. 6 On the policy of emperor Henry VI Hohenstaufen in central Italy, see the works of: Michele Maccarrone, “Innocenzo e gli avvenimenti di Romagna del 1198”, Nuovi studi su Innocenzo III, ed. by Roberto Lambertini (Rome: Isime, 1995), pp. 171-207; Glauco M. Cantarella, “Innocenzo III e la Romagna”, Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, 52/1 (1998), pp. 33-72; Virginio Villani, “L’azione diplomatica di Innocenzo III nella Marca d’Ancona e la Pace di Polverigi”, La Marca d’Ancona tra XII e XIII secolo. Le dinamiche del potere, ed. by Gilberto Piccinini (Ancona: Deputazione di Storia Patria per le Marche, 2004), pp. 20-31. The idea of Rekuperationspolitik operated by the papacy at the end of 12th century was proposed for the first time by: Julius Ficker, Forschungen zur Reichs und Rechtsgeschichte Italiens (Aalen: Scientia, 1868-1874), II, pp. 380-386. See also the work of: Daniel Waley, The papal state in the thirteenth Century (London: Macmillan, 1961), pp. 30-67. On these aspects see: Michele Maccarrone, Studi su Innocenzo III (Padua: Antenore, 1972), pp. 9-22. See also the work of: Wolfgang Hagemann, “Jesi nel periodo di Federico II”, Atti del convegno di studi su Federico II (Jesi: Biblioteca Comunale, 1976), pp. 19-71; Jane Sayers, Innocenzo III 1198-1216 (Rome: Viella, 1997), pp. 67-83.

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From this perspective, the cautious policy of Pope Innocent III towards the two candidates for Henry VI’s succession, Henry’s brother, Philip of Swabia, and Otto of Brunswick, could be read as a papal strategy to obtain a secure ratification of the boundaries of the patrimony of the Roman Church.7 For his choice (which Ovidio Capitani defined as “European” for its importance and the connections of both candidates with Italy and the kingdoms of France and England) Pope Innocent III had the advantage that both Philip and Otto had to be crowned by him in Rome, and this is probably why he decided to delay his dealings with both.8 Daniel Waley argued that Innocent III was inclined to choose Philip of Swabia as emperor, but two events led the Pope to side with Otto of Brunswick.9 The first was the death in 1199 of Constance of Hauteville, daughter of Roger II, King of Sicily (1095/1154), wife of Henry VI Hohenstaufen (who had conquered the Norman kingdom of Southern Italy in 1194) and mother of the little Frederick, whom Innocent III took under his protection, and latter Emperor Frederic II Hohenstaufen (1194/1250). In the opinion of Michele Maccarrone, Pope Innocent III spent the first year of his pontificate bargaining with Constance; the Pope was determined to restore the libertas ecclesiastica in Sicily compromised by the concessions granted by Pope Adrian IV to King William I in 1156 and by Pope Clement III to King William II in 1188.10 Exploiting Constance’s need to ratify the incoronation of her young son as king of Sicily, Innocent III tried also to avoid the project of unio regni ad imperium which characterised the kingdom of Henry VI, and to exclude the kings of Sicily from episcopal elections, putting an end to the apostolic legation granted by Pope Urban II to Roger, Count of Sicily (1031/1101) at the end of the 11th century. In this way, Innocent III would have been able to send apostolic envoys to Sicily, which he considered part of the Roman Church’s patrimony, as he did Central Italy. Innocent III, in choosing Philip of Swabia as Henry VI’s successor, was scared about the possibility of losing all the positive results obtained in 1198-1199 and going back to the same political situation of his predecessor, Pope Celestine III between 1194 and 7

Waley, The papal state in the thirteenth Century, pp. 43-44. Ovidio Capitani, Storia dell’Italia Medievale (410-1216) (Rome and Bari: Laterza, 1990), pp. 452-453; Waley, The papal state in the thirteenth Century, pp. 44-47. 9 Waley, The papal state in the thirteenth Century, p. 30 and following. In the opinion of Kantorowicz the first choice of Innocent III was Otto of Brunswick; Kantorowicz, Federico II imperatore, p. 41. 10 On the politics of Innocent III in central Italy and Sicily see: Maccarrone, “Innocenzo e gli avvenimenti di Romagna del 1198”, p.173. 8

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1197.11 The second element which encouraged Pope Innocent III to consider the possibility of crowning Otto of Brunswick as emperor was the support that Philip of Swabia granted to Markward von Anweiler († 1202) –one of the most important men in the court of Henry VI Hohenstaufen– who, between 1198 and 1199, had been the most important obstacle to Innocent III’s territorial policy in Central Italy.12 For these reasons, Innocent III started negotiating with Otto of Brunswick who, for the first time in 1198 and then again in 1201, in Neuss, promised Pope Innocent III to recognise and defend the lands from Radicofani to Ceprano, the Exarchate of Ravenna, the county of Bertinoro, the March of Ancona, the Duchy of Spoleto the goods of Matilde of Canossa and Sicily on behalf of the Holy See. He also promised to sign a peace treaty with Philip, King of France.13 11

See the works of: Michele Maccarrone, “Papato e regno di Sicilia nel primo anno di pontificato di Innocenzo III”, Nuovi studi su Innocenzo III, ed. by Roberto Lambertini (Rome: Isime, 1995), pp. 148-150; Kantorowicz, Federico II imperatore, p. 90; Glauco M. Cantarella, “‘Liaisons dangereuses’: il papato e i Normanni”, Il Papato e i Normanni. Temporale e spirituale in età normanna, ed. by Edoardo D’Angelo and Claudio Leonardi (Florence: Sismel, 2011), pp. 45-57; Theo Kölzer, Urkunden und Kanzlei der Kaiserin Kostanze Konigin von Sizilien (1195-1198) (Cologne and Vienna: Böhlau, 1983), pp. 18-30. On Pope Celestine III, see: Francesco Renzi, Nascita di una signoria monastica cistercense. Santa Maria di Chiaravalle di Fiastra tra XII e XIII secolo (Spoleto: Cisam, 2011), p. 93 and footnote 22 for bibliography. 12 See the Declaratio principum in favorem Philippi Regis. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Costitutiones et acta imperatorum et regum, ed. Ludwig Weiland (Hannoverae: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1896), II, p. 4. Markward von Anweiler was a slave; he achieved the status of free man only in 1195. He was nominated duke of Ravenna, marquis of Ancona and he was nominated by Henry VI as depositary of his testament. See: Heinrici VI Constitutiones. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Constitutiones et acta imperatorum et regum, ed. Ludwig Weiland (Hannoverae: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1893), I, pp. 530-531; Cantarella, “Innocenzo III e la Romagna”, pp. 69-72. Markward von Anweiler was defeated by the cities of Romagna and Marche, and after 1199 he moved to southern Italy where he died in 1202. See: Renzi, Nascita di una signoria monastica cistercense. Santa Maria di Chiaravalle di Fiastra tra XII e XIII secolo, pp. 9-21 and footnotes n. 18-50 for sources and bibliography. Markward von Anweiler was defined vir ingeniosus et subdolus (an ingenious and sneaky man) by the anonymous author of the Gesta Innocentii III. Patrologiae. Cursus completus (Paris: J.P. Migne Editorem, 1855), CCXIV, col. 23. 13 The first agreement between Otto of Brunswick and Innocent III is the Iuramentum prius Innocentius III praestitum. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Costitutiones et acta imperatorum et regum, ed. Ludwig Weiland (Hannover:

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However, between the end of the 12th and the beginning of the 13th century, Philip of Swabia was able to consolidate his position in Germany, obtaining the support of the most important aristocrats of the Kingdom, and in 1204, he sent his envoy Liupold, the Bishop of Worms, to Italy. The latter was an ally of the Hohenstaufen family and was trying to become archbishop of Mainz and subsequently primate of Germany.14 Bishop Liupold’s task was to bring Central Italy under the control of Philip of Swabia and put an end to papal legations on Sicily. We know that Liupold went back to Germany in 1206 and that his mission was a failure. This situation encouraged Philip to choose the diplomatic path with the papacy to achieve the imperial coronation, and they probably reached an agreement between 1206 and 1207.15 Philip had won and was one step away from the imperial crown, while Otto of Brunswick had no alternative but to escape to England in 1207 after the collapse of his policy in the kingdom of Germany. Just when the problem of the imperial succession seemed to have been resolved, Philip of Swabia was murdered in 1208 in Bamberg by Count Otto VIII of Wittelsbach.16 This episode reopened the possibility for Otto of Brunswick to claim the imperial crown, but this time with an important new ally: the Cistercian Order. It is necessary to reconsider the entire political experience of Otto of Brunswick in the light of his relationships with the monastic Orders and,

Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1893), II, 20-21. For the Promise of Neuss see: Iuramentum posterius papae praestitum. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Costitutiones et acta imperatorum et regum, ed. Ludwig Weiland (Hannover: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1893), II, pp. 27-28. 14 See the Declaratio principum in favorem Philippi Regis. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Costitutiones et acta imperatorum et regum, ed. Ludwig Weiland (Hannover: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1896), II, pp. 3-4. See also the work of: Joachim F. Leonhard, Ancona nel basso Medio Evo (Ancona and Bologna: Il lavoro Editoriale, 1992), pp. 99-103. 15 On Liupold’s mission see: Waley, The papal state in the thirteenth Century, p. 51. Firstly Philip tried diplomacy with papacy in 1203, see the Tractatus cum Innocentius III. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Costitutiones et acta imperatorum et regum, ed. by Ludwig Weiland (Hannover: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1896), II, pp. 8-9. Liupold, once in Italy, was immediately excommunicated by the bishop of Fermo and not by the pope himself as claimed by the Cistercian abbot Cesario of Heisterbach. See: Cesarius Heisterbacensis Monachi, Dialogus miraculorum, ed. by Joseph Strange (Cologne, Bonn and Brussels: Typis J.S. Stevens, 1851), I, Distinctio II, IX, pp. 73-74. 16 Gesta episcoporum Halbertstadensium. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores rerum germanicarum jn usum scolaticum separatim, ed. Ludwig Weiland (Hannover: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1896), XXIII, p. 122.

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in particular, with the Cistercians.17 Otto tried to gain the support of the white monks, and achieved it. On September 20th 1208, he was nominated advocatus specialis of the Order and the Archbishop of Mainz confirmed the activity of tutela and protectio of the Order pursued by Otto of Brunswick, who granted privileges to all the Cistercian monasteries that requested them.18 He managed to obtain the support of the Cistercians during the most troubled years of the Order, those of continuous conflict with Pope Innocent III. The friction between the papacy and the white monks started in 11991200 for the economical financing of the 4th Crusade. Innocent III wanted the participation of the entire Roman Church for this task, but the Cistercians refused to contribute because of their general papal privileges of exemption. The Pope reacted furiously; he threatened the Order with the suspension of all its privileges if they refused to give financial support to his project. The general Chapter of Cîteaux in 1200 understood the gravity of the situation, and after its initial resistance, decided to send two thousands marks to Rome. The dispute was definitely resolved in 1201 with a letter of thanks from Pope Innocent III.19 In 1202, the clash between Rome and Cîteaux reached its peak. Thanks to the letters from Innocent III and from Raniero of Ponza, a former Cistercian monk in Fossanova and a trusted man of the Pope, we know that the Order was torn by an authentic schism between the abbot of Cîteaux, Arnaud Amaury and the abbots of Clairvaux, Pontigny, La Ferté and Morimond, who wanted to have the same political weight as Cîteaux. This time, Innocent III (who wanted total control over the Cistercians) threatened the dissolution of the entire Order if the white monks did not find a solution to their internal problems.20 17

Bernd U. Hucker, Kaiser Otto IV (Hannover: Monumenta Germaniae Historica Schriften, 1990). It is significant to remember that Kantorowicz already underlined the importance of the Cistercians in the politics of both Frederic I Barbarossa and Otto IV of Brunswick. See: Kantorowicz, Federico II imperatore, p. 80. 18 Hucker, Kaiser Otto IV, pp. 265-276. 19 Michele Maccarrone, “Primato romano e monasteri dal principio del secolo XII ad Innocenzo III”, Romana ecclesia cathedra Petri, ed. by Piero Zerbi, Raffaello Volpini and Alessandro Galuzzi (Rome: Herder, 1991), pp. 898-900. 20 For the letter of pope Innocent III addressed to Cîteaux see: “Potthast 1772 (Laterano 1202 novembre 22)”, Die Register Innocenz’ III Pontifikatsjahr 12021203, ed. by Othmar Hageneder, Christoph Egger, Karl Rudolf and Andrea Sommerlechner (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1993), doc. n. 108. For the letter of Raniero of Ponza to Arnaud Amaury see: Bruno Griesser, “Rainer von Fossanova und sein Brief an Abt Arnald von Cîteaux”, Cistercienser Chronik, 60 (1953), pp. 151-167. On the schism of 1202, see the works of: Guido Cariboni, “Il papato di fronte alla crisi istituzionale

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Again, in 1208 the Cistercians entered into conflict with the papacy because the white monks refused to apply the papal interdict against King John I of England,21 a dispute only resolved in 1210.22 Otto of Brunswick probably understood the great opportunity to become the new political interlocutor for the Cistercians in around 1207/8. The support of the Order of Cîteaux was decisive for the approval of his illegal marriage with Beatrix of Hohenstaufen, his cousin and the daughter of Philip of Swabia, whom Otto wanted to marry to strengthen his alliances in the kingdom of Germany (an essential condition to travel to Rome for the imperial coronation) and to have some rights to the kingdom of southern Italy thanks to the union with a member of the Hohenstaufen family.23 In May 1209, supported by Heidenrich, abbot of Morimond, and a delegation of fifty-two Cistercian abbots meeting in Walkenried, where Heidenrich had been abbot between 1197 and 1199, Otto convoked a Diet at Würzburg, where the Cistercians and the Fürstenrat approved his marriage.24 Innocent III had to accept this situation: at Speyer Otto of Brunswick renewed the Promise of Neuss from 1201 and on October 21st 1209, he was crowned emperor in Rome.25 Otto agreed to repay the support of the Order; in just the first few months of 1210 he accorded eleven privileges to Cistercian abbeys in Germany and Italy.26 Otto IV dell’Ordensverfassung cisterciense nei primi decenni del XIII secolo”, Papato e monachesimo “esente” nei secoli centrali del medioevo, ed. by Nicolangelo d’Acunto (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2003), pp. 182-189; Brenda Bolton, “For the See of Simon Peter: The cistercians at Innocent III’s nearest frontiers”, Innocent III. Studies on Papal Authority and Pastoral Care (Aldershot: Variorum, 1995), pp. 1-20. 21 Christopher R. Cheney, Pope Innocent and England (Stuttgart: Hiersemann, 1976), pp. 303-307. 22 Maccarrone, “Primato romano e monasteri dal principio del secolo XII ad Innocenzo III”, pp. 917-918. 23 See: Renzi, Nascita di una signoria monastica cistercense. Santa Maria di Chiaravalle di Fiastra tra XII e XIII secolo, pp. 101-102 and footnotes for bibliography. 24 Processit Walkenrede, ubi invenit abbatem de Morimunde cum aliis cinquaginta duobus abbatibus sui ordinis. (He [referring to Otto of Brunswick] went to Walkenried where also the abbot of Morimond and another fifty-two abbots of his Order had arrived). See: Arnoldi Abbati Lubecensis, Chronica slavorum. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores rerum germanicarum jn usum scolaticum separatim, ed. Georg H. Pertz (Hannover: Hahn, 1988), XX, p. 247. See also: Hucker, Kaiser Otto IV, pp. 250-252 and 485. 25 Hucker, Kaiser Otto IV, pp. 251-254. 26 Hucker, Kaiser Otto IV, p. 253. See also: Johann F. Böhmer, Regesta Imperii. Philipp, Otto, Friedrich II, Heinrich (VII), Conrad IV, Heinrich Raspe, Wilhelm

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pursued a monastic policy similar to that of Frederick I Barbarossa who looked for the support of the Cistercians in 1159 for the election of his candidate, Victor IV, as Pope against Alexander III. As has been argued by Michele Maccarrone, in this case Frederick I was a concurrent of the papacy and his privileges did not contradict Cistercian papal exemptions. The Emperor’s interventions simply confirmed and reinforced the rights or the patrimony of a monastic community.27 Otto IV did not limit himself to an imitatio of the Hohenstaufen monastic policy, and his interventions had important consequences, especially in Italy and Germany. The support of the Cistercian abbey of Walkenried, for example, was decisive. The monastery was situated in the Harz and controlled, together with other Cistercian monasteries, all the silver mining activity of the region, one of the most important in medieval Europe between the 13th and 14th centuries. This way Otto gained access to the huge economic resources of the Cistercians –the silver, for example, was mainly exported to England where Otto had the support of King John I– useful for financing his political project.28 In Italy, Otto IV often granted privileges to monasteries in strategic territories for the Recuperationspolitik of Innocent III in Central Italy, as in the cases of the abbeys of San Martino al Cimino and Fiastra.29 Both monasteries were linked to important communication routes; San Martino was on the Via Francigena which connected France to Rome, while Fiastra was situated between the Via Flaminia –which gave access to the Adriatic coast near Fano– and the Via Salaria which ended at Castrum Truentinum, near the city of Ascoli Piceno, considered the “gate” to southern Italy between the 12th and 13th centuries, as demonstrated by the huge number of privileges granted to this urban centre by Henry VI Hohenstaufen.30 Otto IV become a competitor of Pope Innocent III in the und Richard. Nachträge und Ergänzungen (Cologne: Böhlau, 1983), V, reg. n. 351, 357, 364, 366, 374, 377, 378, 381, 391, 394 and 395. 27 Maccarrone, “Primato romano e monasteri dal principio del secolo XII ad Innocenzo III”, pp. 860-866. 28 Philipp Braunstein, Travail et entreprise au Moyen Age (Brussels: De Boeck, 2003), pp. 235-274. 29 For the privilege granted to S. Martino al Cimino by Otto IV, see: Tommaso di Carpegna, “Libertas Ecclesiae e riforma nel Lazio di Innocenzo III”, Innocenzo III: urbs et orbis, ed. by Andrea Sommerlechner (Rome: Isime, 2003), p. 739. For the privilege accorded to Fiastra see: Le carte dell’abbazia di Fiastra, III. (12011216), ed. by Giuseppe Avarucci (Spoleto: Cisam, 1997), doc. n. 95. 30 On viability in central Italy, see: Francesca Fei, “Note sulla viabilita e sugli insediamenti abbaziali nelle Marche”, Le abbazie delle Marche, Storia e arte, ed. by Emma Simi (Rome: Viella, 1992), pp. 233-248. On Ascoli and its relationships

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same lands that the papacy was claiming. Otto, not respecting the promise of Speyer of 1209, also granted privileges to cities in contact with pope Innocent III, important families like the Aldobrandeschi, or nominating – as Henry VI did at the end of 12th century– his trusted men in the Duchy of Spoleto and the March of Ancona, and Wolfger Patriarch of Aquileia as imperial envoy to Italy.31 His successful policy did not last long. Pope Innocent III reacted by excommunicating him in 1210 and with intelligent diplomatic action was able to recuperate his position in central Italy. In 1211, the military campaign promoted by Otto IV to conquer the kingdom of southern Italy ended in failure and in 1214 he was definitively defeated in Bouvines by Philip, King of France, and Frederick II.32 In 1211, he had also lost the support of the Cistercians, who went back to Innocent III’s side, exactly what they had done at the time of Frederick I, when they received privileges from the Emperor, but in the end, they decided to support Alexander III against the imperial candidate Victor IV.33 In both cases, not only were the Cistercians instruments, but they were also able to pursue their own policy, trying to maintain their space for political bargaining between the empire and the papacy, systematically avoiding signing official agreements, promises or treaties. In the words of Napoleon, the best way to keep a promise is not to make it.

with the Empire, see: Antonino Franchi, Ascoli imperiale: da Carlo Magno a Federico II 800-1250 (Ascoli Piceno: Capponi editore, 1995), pp. 106, 116-120, 190-191, 126-132, 134-138, 146-157, 158-165 and 172, and the work of: Giuliano Pinto, “Ascoli il suo territorio”, Istituzioni e statuti comunali nella Marca d’Ancona (secoli XI-XIV). Dalle origini alla maturita. Le realta territoriali, ed. by Virginio Villani (Ancona: Deputazione di Storia Patria per le Marche, 2007), II, pp. 301-340. 31 See the works of: Kantorowicz, Federico II imperatore, pp. 40-58; Helene Tillmann, Papst Innocenz III (Bonn: Röhrscheid, 1954), p. 133; Waley, The papal state in the thirteenth Century, pp. 43-50 and 57-60; Hucker, Kaiser Otto IV, pp. 112-113 and 194-196; Maria T. Caciorgna, “Aspetti della politica di Innocenzo III verso i Comuni delle Marche”, La Marca d’Ancona tra XII e XIII secolo. Le dinamiche del potere, ed. by Gilberto Piccinini (Ancona: Deputazione di Storia Patria per le Marche, 2004), pp. 135-156. 32 See: Renzi, Nascita di una signoria monastica cistercense. Santa Maria di Chiaravalle di Fiastra tra XII e XIII secolo, pp. 105-107. 33 Maccarrone, “Primato romano e monasteri dal principio del secolo XII ad Innocenzo III”, p. 860. Anyway, Otto IV had good relationships with Cistercians after 1211, and he was buried in 1218 in Walkenried, see: Hucker, Kaiser Otto IV, pp. 259-265.

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2. The relationships between the Kings of León-Castile and the Cistercians The second example concerns the close relationship between the Kings of León-Castile and León after 1157, and the white monks in Galicia. So far, the historiography has mainly interpreted the development of the Cistercians in the north-western Iberian Peninsula in two different ways: the royal or the aristocratic promotion of the Cistercian foundations. On one hand, the monastic foundations of the Order were connected to King Alfonso VII of León-Castile through his need to control both the territory and frontiers of his kingdom, and who considered the white monks more reliable than the local bishops or other ecclesiastical institutions.34 This strong connection between the kings and the Cistercians was hardly criticised until the 1980s with the publication of the work by Javier PérezEmbid Wamba, who maintained that there were no royal strategic projects behind the arrival and diffusion of the white monks in northern Spain. The reason of the successful Cistercian experience had to be found in the diffusion of the ideals advocated by Bernard of Clairvaux in the highest spheres of the Iberian aristocracy.35 In the opinion of Bernard F. Reilly, the Kings of León-Castile showed no specific interest in the Cistercians; they also continued to grant privileges to other ecclesiastical institutions or other forms of monastic life. Moreover the kings took part in a limited number of Cistercian foundations.36 In 1998, Adéline Rucquoi argued that,

34

The idea of royal promotion of the Order of Cîteaux was proposed for the first time by: Dámian Yáñez Neira, “Alfonso VII de Castilla y la Orden cisterciense”, Cistercium, 61 (1959), pp. 24-83. On Galicia see: María del Carmen Pallares, El monasterio de Sobrado: Un ejemplo del protagonismo monástico en la Galicia medieval (La Coruña: Diputación Provincial de La Coruña, 1979), pp. 119-122, 124, 128-129, 132, 135-142, 184-189 and 236-240; Ermelindo Portela, La colonización cisterciense en Galicia (1142-1250) (Santiago de Compostela: Editorial de la Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, 1981), pp. 33-61, and from the same author: “La Explicación sociopolítica del éxito cisterciense en Galicia”, En la España medieval, 3 (1981), pp. 319-330, especially, pp. 322-323. For a general bibliography see: Francesco Renzi, “Da Clairvaux alla Galizia. I cisterciensi nel nord della Spagna tra XII e XIII secolo”, I quaderni del M.AE.S., 14 (2011), pp. 135-165, especially pp. 140-148. 35 Javier Pérez-Embid, El Cister en Castilla y León. Monacato y dominios rurales (siglos XII-XIV) (Salamanca: Junta de Castilla y León, 1986), pp. 36-37. 36 Bernard F. Reilly, The kingdom of León-Castilla under king Alfonso VII: 11261157 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998), p. 270; Raquel Alonso, “Los promotores de la Orden del Cister en los reinos de Castilla y León:

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as in the cases of the kingdoms of Aragon and Portugal, the donations granted to the white monks by kings were merely a way to offset the financial support guaranteed to kings by the Cistercians.37 Viewed from this perspective, one can see that the roles of the aristocracy and its relationships with the Order of Cîteaux in Spain and Portugal, together with the important growth of prosopographical studies during the 1990s, became more and more important, in particular the Galician Traba family, founders of the monastery of Sobrado in 1142, have been considered both as the importer of this form of monasticism and the main channel of diffusion of the white monks in the other Iberian areas.38 These two models seem too rigid to explain as complex a phenomenon as the implantation of the Cistercians in the northern part of the Iberian Peninsula and especially in Galicia. The following examples are cases in point. On the one hand, the fact that the kings had participated in a small number of Cistercian foundations did not impede Alfonso VII and his successors from following with interest the development of the Order in Galicia; a behaviour testified by the huge number of privileges granted to the Order between 1151 and 1230.39 Furthermore, royal interest in different familias aristocráticas y damas nobles”, Anuario de estudios medievales, 37/2 (2007), pp. 653-710, especially, pp. 682-691. 37 Adéline Rucquoi, “Les cisterciens dans la péninsule ibérique”, Unanimité et diversité cisterciennes: filiations, réseaux, relectures du XII au XVII siècle, ed. by Nicole Bouter (Saint-Étienne: Publications de l’Université de Saint-Étienne, 2000), pp. 498-499. 38 On roles played by aristocracies and by Trabas, see: José Mattoso, “A nobreza medieval portuguesa e as corrientes monasticás dos séculos XI e XII”, Revista de história económica e social, 10 (1982), pp. 29-47, especially, p. 43; Alonso, “Los promotores de la Orden del Cister en los reinos de Castilla y León: familias aristocráticas y damas nobles”, p. 707. On the development of studies on Iberian families see: Simon Barton, The aristocracy in twelfth century León and Castile (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp. 2-3 and footnotes on these pages for a general bibliography. 39 Luís Sánchez, Documentos reales de la Edad Media referentes a Galicia (Madrid: Servicio de Publicaciones del Ministerio de Educación Nacional, 1953). Alfonso VII: reg. n. 253, 259, 266, 267, 276, 282 and 291. Fernando II: reg. n. 298, 302, 306, 311, 315, 322, 323, 329, 332, 334, 338, 345, 349, 352, 353, 354, 358, 363, 369, 370, 372, 373, 374, 375, 385, 387, 388, 405, 406, 410, 411, 416, 417, 421, 423, 424, 425 and 429. Alfonso IX: reg. n. 432, 438, 439, 442, 444, 445, 446, 447, 452, 456, 457, 458, 459, 460, 461, 462, 463, 464, 473, 474, 477, 483, 486, 504, 509, 518, 519, 524, 526, 529, 534, 540, 541, 542, 543, 544, 545, 553, 554, 555, 556, 557, 558, 559, 563, 564, 566, 567, 568, 569, 570, 572, 573, 574, 575, 577, 578, 579, 582, 585, 586, 591, 592, 599, 604, 612, 613, 619, 622, 625 and 628. See also: Portela, La colonización cisterciense en Galicia (1142-1250), p. 59.

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forms of monastic life was not an obstacle in their relationships with the Cistercians. For example, the same Trabas dealt with the Cluniac monastery of Jubia and other Galician abbeys.40 On the other hand, one should not overestimate the role of the Trabas. The foundations of Cistercian abbeys were not always promoted by aristocratic families directly related to the Trabas, as one can see in the case of Valbuena de Duero.41 Moreover, in Galicia, the Trabas were mainly connected to five monasteries (Sobrado and Monfero; archdiocese of Compostela, Meira and Ferreira de Pantón; diocese of Lugo, and Oseira; diocese of Orense) in southern Galicia, among the fourteen foundations of the Order that appeared in the region between 1142 and 1225. De facto they did not have close relationships with all the Galician Cistercian monasteries, but mainly with those connected to their possessions in northern Galicia or their matrimonial alliances.42 The analysis of the case of Sobrado and its foundational charter revealed a different status of the question, and it showed how a monastic foundation was not simply the result of the negotiations between the Order and a local power –king, bishop, or aristocratic families– but was linked to a great variety of factors, interests, and local political bargains between the aristocracies and kings.43 Situated in the archdiocese of Compostela, Sobrado was a strategic monastery; founded in the 10th century by the counts of Presáras, the abbey controlled the last part of the pilgrimage route to St James’ shrine, was situated near the Atlantic coast, and controlled the iron mines of Pedrahita in Galicia, where mining activity was attested to have taken place since the 10th century.44 The monastery 40

See: Renzi, “Da Clairvaux alla Galizia. I cisterciensi nel nord della Spagna tra XII e XIII secolo”, p. 151; José L. López, “La nobleza altomedieval gallega. La famiglia Froílaz-Traba. Sus fundaciones monacales en Galicia en los siglos XI, XII, XIII”, Nalgures, 4 (2007), pp. 241-331, especially, pp. 261-322. 41 Renzi, “El Cister en Galicia entre los siglos XII y XIII: ¿una nueva perspectiva?”, pp. 142-146. 42 Francesco Renzi, “Aristocrazia e monachesimo in Galizia nei secoli XII e XIII: la famiglia Froilaz-Traba e i cistercensi. Ipotesi di ricerca”, Bisime, 115, pp. 209228. On the chronology of Oseira see: M. Romaní, “La integración de Osera en el Cister. Estado de la cuestión”, Cuadernos de estudios gallegos, 37/102 (1987), pp. 43-55, especially, pp. 47-53; Francesco Renzi, “Obispos y monasterios en Galicia entre los siglos XII y XIII: el problema de la exención cisterciense”, Actas de la VI Jornada del Cristianismo antiguo al Cristianismo medieval, forthcoming. 43 See: Renzi, “El Cister en Galicia entre los siglos XII y XIII: ¿una nueva perspectiva?”, pp. 139-140 and 169-170. 44 María del Carmen Pallares and Ermelindo Portela, “El complejo minerometalúrgico de la granja cisterciense de Constantím. Bases para el desarrollo de

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was confiscated around 1063/5 from the Counts of Presáras by King Fernando I of León-Castile, probably to punish members of this family for their support of aristocratic revolts against him.45 In the opinion of María del Carmen Pallares Méndez and José L. López Sangil, the monastery was abandoned at the end of the 11th century and, in 1118, was granted by Queen Urraca to Fernando and Vermudo Pérez de Traba, sons of Pedro Froílaz de Traba, Count of Galicia.46 On 14th February 1142, Fernando Pérez, together with his wife Sancha González, his niece Urraca Vermúdez, and supported by his brother Vermudo Pérez, granted the monastery of Sobrado to the Cistercians from Clairvaux.47 In the foundational charter, Count Fernando Pérez gave some lands to the white monks under the leadership of the abbot Pedro as an initial donation to the new monastic community.48 Sobrado, following the first part of the source, seems to be the “perfect” Cistercian foundation: a una investigación en arqueología medieval”, Arqueología y territorio medieval, 7 (2000), pp. 81-92, especially, p. 83. 45 Pallares, El monasterio de Sobrado: Un ejemplo del protagonismo monástico en la Galicia medieval, pp. 108-109; Vicente de la Fuente, “El monasterio de Santa María de Sobrado: su relación con Betanzos y Fray Atilano Melguizo, su último monje exclaustrado”, Anuario Brigantino, 28 (2005), pp. 153-172, especially, p. 154. 46 Pilar Loscertales, Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, 2 vols. (Madrid: Dirección General del Patrimonio Artístico y Cultural and Archivo Histórico Nacional, 1976), II, doc. n. 8. Another edition is that of: Cristina Monterde, Diplomatario de la reina Urraca de Castilla y León (1109-1126) (Saragossa: Anubar, 1996), doc. n. 123. On the Trabas, their structures, evolution and problems of denomination see the work of: María del Carmen Pallares and Ermelindo Portela, “Aristocracia y sistema de parentesco en la Galicia de los siglos centrales de la Edad Media. El grupo de los Traba”, Hispania, 185 (1993), pp. 823840, especially, pp. 830-832; José Luis López, La nobleza altomedieval gallega. La familia Froílaz-Traba (Noia: Editorial Toxosoutos, 2002). 47 AHN, Clero, A Coruña, Sobrado, Carpeta 526, n. 10. The document is ed. by: Pallares, El monasterio de Sobrado: Un ejemplo del protagonismo monástico en la Galicia medieval, p. 278. This original version is copied into the tumbo (cartulary) of the monastery, see: Loscertales, Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, II, doc. n. 13. For an analysis of the other version and its implications, present in the cartulary and called Primum Testamentum, see: María del Carmen Pallares and Ermelindo Portela, “Santa María de Sobrado. Tiempos y espacios de un monasterio cisterciense”, Actas del Congreso internacional sobre san Bernardo e o Císter en Galicia e Portugal (Oseira: Ediciones Monte Casino, 1992), I, pp. 6061; Renzi, “El Cister en Galicia entre los siglos XII y XIII: ¿una nueva perspectiva?”, pp. 151-153. 48 Loscertales, Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, II, doc. n. 13.

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powerful local man called the monks into his territory granting land, goods, and protection to the Cistercians. In the documents, however, there are two important references in the text to Alfonso VII of León-Castile that are impossible to neglect. In the source, Count Fernando Pérez de Traba specified that he was granting lands to the Cistercians within the boundaries established by Alfonso VII. Fernando Pérez was referring to the royal concessions of 1135, the same year Alfonso VII become emperor. Was the king trying to reinforce his alliances in Galicia through these concessions? On that occasion the king not only confirmed the possession of Sobrado (previously granted by this mother, Queen Urraca) to Fernando and Vermudo Pérez de Traba, but he defined the frontiers of the monastic patrimony of Sobrado very precisely.49 What is even more eye-catching is the second reference to the king of León-Castile: Fernando Pérez, his wife and his niece, affirmed that through this foundation they were realising Alfonso VII’s will, orders, and dispositions.50 How should we interpret such an expression? Is it a reference to the collaboration between monarchy and aristocracy,51 or a simple mention to certify the loyalty of the Trabas to Alfonso VII?52 In my opinion, developing from the brilliant works of María del Carmen Pallares Méndez and Ermelindo Portela Silva, one should reconsider the foundation of Sobrado under the light of the 49

On Alfonso VII’s imperial election see: Reilly, The kingdom of León-Castilla under king Alfonso VII: 1126-1157, pp. 15-52. On the document dated 1135, see: Loscertales, Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, II, doc. n. 9. 50 AHN, Clero, A Coruña, Sobrado, Carpeta 526, n. 10: Infra terminos qui scripti sunt in carta imperiali quam michi comiti domno Fernando Petri, dominus imperator domnus Alfonsus meus fecit [...]. Hoc siquidem prefatum monasterium cum predictis hereditatibus damus et concedimus libere ac firmiter pro remedio animarum nostrarum parentumque nostrorum, seu animarum parentum domini nostri imperatoris domni Alfonsi cuius consilio et iussione et fortitudine hec omnia facta sunt. (Within the boundaries contained in the imperial privilege that Emperor Alfonso gave to me, Fernando Pérez. We [Fernando and his family] give to the aforementioned monastery [Sobrado] these properties and we do this for our souls and for those of our parents and for the soul of our lord Emperor Alfonso whose orders, will and dispositions are all made here). 51 María del Carmen Pallares and Ermelindo Portela, “Proyección territorial e influencia social de una institución monástica en la Edad media: la abadía de Sobrado (952-1300)”, Entre nós. Estudios de arte xeografía e historia en homenaxe ó profesor Xosé Manuel Pose Antelo, ed. by Xesús Balboa and Herminia Pernas (Santiago de Compostela: Editorial de la Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, 2001), p. 232 and following. 52 Alonso, “Los promotores de la Orden del Cister en los reinos de Castilla y León: familias aristocráticas y damas nobles”, pp. 663 and 696.

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transformations of the Galician political context at the end of the second quarter of 12th century.53 The foundation, or re-foundation, of Sobrado may be considered as an agreement between the monarchy and the Trabas – certified by a monastic foundation of an Order external to Galicia and, at least initially, without any connections to the local political powers– to control a strategic territory in the extreme north-western Iberian peninsula after the death of the powerful archbishop of Santiago Diego Gelmírez in 1140 and the unsuccessful attempt made by Alfonso VII to impose his candidate as Gelmírez’s successor on the archiepiscopal see.54 The connection between the political context and monastic foundations was no novelty for Alfonso VII, because the King did exactly the same with the foundation of Fitero, La Rioja, in 1140, the same year as peace was reached with the king of Navarre, García Ramírez.55 In 1140, the royal candidate, Berengar, former chancellor of Alfonso VII and former bishop of Salamanca, was elected Archbishop of Compostela, however an important part of the cathedral chapter was against him and Pope Innocent II did not approve his election even though Berengar was supported by the King of León-Castile and Peter, the venerable Abbot of Cluny. In 11411142, Berengar was obliged to move back to Salamanca.56 Perhaps it is no mere coincidence that, two years after Gelmírez’s death, and in the very years of the definitive failure to install Berengar as archbishop of Compostela, the Cistercians arrived in Galicia at a monastery near Santiago. It is probable that the presence and the interest of Alfonso VII in the foundation of Sobrado was the reason Bernard of Clairvaux decided to approve this operation. For many years, the Cistercian abbot had been contrary to a foundation of the Order in the Iberian Peninsula, a territory to which he never travelled in his life.57 In a letter addressed to Artaldo, abbot of Preully in 1127-1129, Bernard of Clairvaux tried to impede a 53

Pallares and Portela, “Proyección territorial e influencia social”, p. 233. See: Renzi, “El Cister en Galicia entre los siglos XII y XIII: ¿una nueva perspectiva?”, p. 162. 55 The monastery was not Cistercian until 1147-1148, see: Cristina Monterde, Colección diplomática del monasterio de Fitero (1140-1210) (Saragossa: Caja de Ahorros de Zaragoza, Aragón y La Rioja, 1978), pp. 233-237. 56 Richard A. Fletcher, The episcopate in the Kingdom of León in the 12th century (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), p. 40. 57 Nam et in Hispanis, ubi praesens ipse non fuit (“Since in Spain he [Bernard of Clairvaux] never had been”). See : Gaufridus Claraevallensi, Sancti Bernardi abbatis Claraevallensis vita et res gestae libris septem comprehensae. Patrologiae. Cursus completus (Paris: J. P. Migne editorem, 1855), CLXXXV, lib. IV, col. 341. 54

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foundation in Spain considered too far and without the network of alliances that Clairvaux could have in Burgundy at that time. The monastery of Sobrado could offer Bernard of Clairvaux the possibility of entering directly into contact with the King of León-Castile and the local aristocracy in the same years as his great promotion of the Order, which reached its peak with the election of Eugene III, former white monk and disciple of Bernard, as pope. Prior to 1140 there are no letters in the epistolary of the abbot of Clairvaux concerning northern Spain, and his contacts with the royal family, Alfonso VII, Berengar of Salamanca, and the bishop of Palencia all started after 1142.58 In the foundation of Sobrado, an agreement made in Santiago de Compostela in the presence of some important men of the local Church gathered together more than a protagonist and different panels of interests and political plots.59 The collaboration of the monarchy with the Trabas is confirmed in numerous monastic documents from Sobrado in which Alfonso VII of León-Castile or the Trabas granted goods or lands to the white monks with their mutual consent and support.60 The interest of Alfonso VII in Sobrado is also shown by the large number of privileges granted to the monastery between 1151 and 1154, in which he accorded possession of lands, exemption from the portazgo (an indirect tax on transports in the kingdom of León-Castile) in the coastal town of Burgo de Faro, the right to luctuosa, and the tenth part of all the rents of Burgo de Faro.61 These politics of protection of the monastery of Sobrado were continued by Alfonso VII’s successors: Fernando II and Alfonso IX of León. Alfonso VII of León-Castile’s son and nephew converted this monastery –and to a 58

On the politics of Bernard of Clairvaux between 1130 and 1145 see the works of: Lékai, I cistercensi. Ideali e realtà, pp. 48-67; Glauco M. Cantarella, “Saint Bernard et les grandes affairs de son temps”, Religions & Histoire, 6 (2011), pp. 38-43, especially, pp. 38-39. 59 See: Francesco Renzi, I monaci bianchi in Galizia (1142-1250) (Trieste: CERM, 2014). 60 We refer in particular to Pedro Helias, the candidate that the cathedral Chapter opposed to Berengar of Salamanca in 1140 and to Pedro Cresconíz in contact with Trabas even before the foundation of Sobrado see: Loscertales, Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, II, doc. n. 10, 11, and 13. On the collaboration between Trabas and kings see for example: AHN, Clero, A Coruña, Sobrado, Carpeta 526, n. 19. 61 AHN, Clero, A Coruña, Sobrado, Carpeta 526, n. 19; Loscertales, Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, I, doc. n. 136; Loscertales, Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, II, doc. n. 12, 15, 17, 18, 42, 48 and 76. On the luctuosa, see: Carlos de Ayala, Las órdenes militares hispánicas en la Edad Media (siglos XII-XIV) (Madrid: Marcial Pons Historia, 2003), pp. 222 and 687.

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lesser extent that of Monfero situated near Betanzos– into an authentic reference for control of northern Galicia; its ports for trade, maritime traffic during the 12th century and mining activity also giving strong financial support to the Cistercians. These measures should be framed as part of a more general project led by Fernando II to control this part of his reign also through ecclesiastical institutions and especially the see of Santiago. Since the pontificate of Martín Martínez, Fernando II of León had tried to impose his candidates as archbishop, as his father before him. In the third quarter of the 12th century, two former royal chancellors, Pedro Gudesteíz, former Bishop of Mondoñedo, and Pedro Suárez de Deza, former Bishop of Salamanca, became Archbishops of Santiago between 1167/73 and 1173/1206 respectively, inaugurating a policy of restoring the power and control over Compostela to its archdiocesan structures. Not only did Fernando II of Léon confirm the territorial acquisitions of Sobrado and the donations made by Trabas to the monastery, but in 1179 he also granted the control of a tenth of the whole of Burgo de Faro; in 1164 he agreed to an annual donation of two thousand golden maravedís to Sobrado; a sixth of his patrimony in monetam Sancti Iacobi and ten silver marks to Sobrado, which was exempted from every royal tax for the construction of the abbatial church. Again in 1173, the king of León also accorded to exempt all the cities of the kingdom of León from the foro and exempt the iron extracted in Pedrahita from the portazgo, favouring the presence of the Cistercians in the local markets, as argued by María del Carmen Pallares Méndez.62 62

AHN, Clero, A Coruña, Sobrado, Carpeta 530, n. 12; Loscertales, Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, I, doc. n. 489. Loscertales, Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, II, docs. N. 20, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 37, 38, 39, 53 and 398. For the documents of Monfero see: AHN, Clero, A Coruña, Monfero, Carpeta 497, n. 18, and 19; ARG, Sección Pergaminos, Monfero, n. 7; Rafael Reigosa, “La colección diplomática de Monfero: edición, prólogo y notas del cartulario de santa María de Monfero” (Madrid: Universidad Complutense de Madrid, PhD Dissertation, 1948), doc. n. 89; José L. López, “Relación de la documentación del monasterio de Santa María de Monfero”, Estudios Mindonienses, 18 (2002), pp. 279-740. See also: Pallares, El monasterio de Sobrado: Un ejemplo del protagonismo monástico en la Galicia medieval, pp. 135142. For maritime traffic, see: Elisa M. Ferreira, Galicia en el comercio maritimo medieval (A Coruña: Fundación Pedro Barrié de la Maza, 1988), pp. 350-355, and by the same author: Elisa M. Ferreira, “El poblamiento urbano en la Galicia medieval”, El fenómeno urbano medieval entre el Cantábrico y el Duero: revisión historiográfica y propuestas de estudio, ed. by Jesús Á. Solórzano and Beatriz Arízaga (Santander: Asociación de Jóvenes Historiadores de Cantabria, 2002), pp. 367-420. For the politics of the Archbishops of Santiago, see: Fletcher, The

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During his reign (1188/1230), King Alfonso IX of León continued this policy and confirmed the dispositions of his grandfather Alfonso VII and of his father Fernando II, concerning the rights of Sobrado on the Burgo de Faro and the exemption from the portazgo in the whole kingdom of León. He also granted the Cistercians exemption from the portazgo in the new centre of A Coruña, and the fourth part of the whole rent of the town of Betanzos in 1219.63 The support of Alfonso IX of León also extended to some internal areas in northern Galicia, such as Serantes and the castle and tower of Aranga (which had been a bone of contention between the Cistercians and the Trabas since 1168) which the monks of Sobrado had to restore. This seems to suggest an aristocratic family losing their control of this area, while confirming the collaboration between the Cistercians and the monarchy in controlling some strategic areas of Galicia at the end of the 12th century.64 The politics of both kings also involved the Cistercian monasteries situated in two other important areas of Galicia. The first was the monastery of Meira in the bishopric of Lugo, in east-central Galicia, an important corridor to León and Asturias, as demonstrated by the presence of the Vermúdez family (Vélez branch) in the monastic sources of Meira. This monastery was also connected to the bishopric of Oviedo, Mondoñedo and Orense, nominated by Fernando II of León to defend and protect the monastery of Meira from external attacks on its patrimony.65 episcopate in the Kingdom of León in the 12th century, pp. 56-60. On royal politics see also: Jesús A. Solórzano, “Medieval seaports of the Atlantic coast”, International Journal of Maritime History, 1 (2009), pp. 81-100; Álvaro Solano, “Historia Urbana en la Galicia medieval. Balances y perspectivas”, Cuadernos de estudios gallegos, 57/123 (2010), pp. 55-90, especially, pp. 61-70. 63 AHN, Clero, A Coruña, Sobrado, Carpeta 531, n. 16, 537, n. 1 and 11; Carpeta 539, n. 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 and 11; Loscertales, Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, II, doc. n. 54, 109, and 122. A Coruña was the new denomination in 13th century given by Alfonso IX to the Burgo de Faro. See: Santiago Daviña, “El monasterio de las cascas (Betanzos) I”, Anuario Brigantiño, 21 (1998), pp. 77-102, especially, pp. 93-95. 64 AHN, Clero, A Coruña, Sobrado, Carpeta 532, n. 13. On the document of 1168 see: Loscertales, Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, II, doc. n. 25. On the conflicts in this area between the monks of Sobrado and Pedro Múñiz de Traba see: Carlos Barros, “Origen del castillo y coto de Aranga, siglos X-XII”, Cuadernos de estudios gallegos, 56/122 (2009), pp. 139-150. 65 See: José L. López-Manuel Vidán, “Tumbo viejo de Lugo (Transcripción completa)”, Estudios Mindonienses, 27 (2011), pp. 11-373 (doc. n. 92); María M. Domínguez, “El Monasterio de Santa María de Meira y su colección diplomática” (Saragossa: Universidad de Zaragoza, PhD Dissertation, 1952), docs. n. 62, 63, 74,

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The second area was southern Galicia on the border with the kingdom of Portugal ruled by Alfonso I Henriques. This territory near the Miño river was characterised by continuous clashes and tensions between the kingdoms of León and Portugal, as well as by a strong Cistercian presence, supported by Fernando II and Alfonso IX of León, who probably saw these abbeys as a reliable guarantee for control of the frontier with Portugal. The abbeys were in the dioceses of Tuy Melón and Oya, in that of Ourense Montederramo, who also received two privileges from Alfonso I of Portugal, in Oseira, and in the extreme south-west of the archdiocese of Santiago de Compostela, near Pontevedra, was the monastery of Armenteira.66 However, in the case of Galicia we have to be careful not to consider the white monks as a mere instrument of kings for their urban politics.67

75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 97, 108, 120, 143 ,145, 156, 174, 178, 211, 216 and 296. On the Vermúdez family linked to Trabas, see: Margarita Torres, Linajes nobiliarios en León y Castilla (Siglos IX-XIII) (Valladolid: Consejería de Educación y Cultura, 1999), pp. 166-192; Manuel Risco, España Sagrada (Madrid: Oficina de la Viuda e Hijo de Marín, 1798), XLI, p. 34. For the privileges granted to Meira by kings of León-Castile and León see: Domínguez, “Meira”, doc. n. 16, 22, 30, 44, 54, 104, 105, 108, 121, 133, 180, 181, 207, 414, 415 and 442. 66 See: José M. Soto, “¿Se puede hablar de un entremado politico-religioso en el proceso de independencia de Portugal?”, Hispania, 67/227 (2007), pp. 795-826, especially, p. 813, and footnote n. 52. See also: Margarita Torres, “Las relaciones fronterizas entre Portugal y León en tiempos de Alfonso VII”, Revista da facultade de Letras, 15/1 (1998), pp. 301-313. On Armenteira: Marina Alonso, “El Monasterio de Santa Maria de Armenteira: documentos conservados hasta 1215” (Santiago de Compostela: Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, PhD Dissertation, 1957), docs. n. 3, 4, 5, 6,7, 8, 11, 13, 14, 15, 18, 19, 22 and 23. On Oya: María de la Luz Paniagua, “Colección diplomática del monasterio de Santa María de Oya (1198-1248)” (Santiago de Compostela: Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, PhD Dissertation, 1967), doc. n. 2 and 10. On Montederramo: Manuel Varela, “El Monasterio de Santa María de Montederramo” (Santiago de Compostela: Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, PhD Dissertation, 1968), docs. n. 1, 6, 7, 9 and 10. On Melón: Segundo Cambón, “El monasterio de Melón siglos XII-XII” (Santiago de Compostela, Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, PhD Dissertation, 1957), doc. n. 16, 17, 20, 21, 23, 30, 44, 70, 107, 111, 125, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 205, 211, 212 and 225. On Oseira: Miguel Romaní, A Colección diplomatica do mosteiro cisterciense de Santa María de Oseira (1025-1035), I (Santiago de Compostela: Tórculo, 1989), docs. n. 112, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 123. 143, 216, 269, 270, 271 and 303. 67 Juan I. Ruíz, “Desarrollo urbano y reacción señorial: monasterios ‫ދ‬versus‫ތ‬ concejos en el noroeste peninsular (siglos XII-XIII)”, El monacato en los reinos de

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Even if the protection of the monarchy was an important support for white monks, they were able to develop different patrimonial strategies towards the aristocracy, local bishops and especially urban centres, which may constitute a new and open field of research into institutional, political and economic studies. For example, the Cistercian monasteries, especially Sobrado and Oseira, showed an authentic urban vocation. Sobrado was able to have autonomous relationships with centres all along the St. James’ Way, for example with Melide before royal intervention in the 13th century, and the white monks were able to conquer an important space outside Galicia in centres such as Villafranca del Bierzo and Molinaseca, where the Cistercians interacted with the urban owners (heredes in the sources), concejos and the local élites, which demonstrates a political and social influence of the Cistercians in cities and towns that was not only linked to economic traffic. In the cases of Oseira, Melón, and the city of Ribadavia there was authentic competition between the Cistercians, the bishops of Orense and Tuy and the Military Orders for control of the urban space, its rents and tithes. There was a similar situation in Vigo, contended between the Cistercian monastery of Melón and the archbishop of Santiago de Compostela.68

León y Castilla (Siglos VII-XIII) (León: Fundación Sánchez-Albornoz, 2007), pp. 332-338. 68 Portela, La colonización cisterciense en Galicia (1142-1250), pp. 61-62; Francesco Renzi, “Aristocrazia e monachesimo in Galizia nei secoli XII e XIII: la famiglia Froilaz-Traba e i cistercensi. Ipotesi di ricerca”; Francesco Renzi, “The bone of contention: Cistercians, bishops and papal exemption. The case of the archdiocese of Santiago de Compostela (1150-1250)”, Journal of Medieval Iberian Studies, 5/1 (2013), pp. 1-22, of same author see also: Renzi, “Da Clairvaux alla Galicia”, pp. 162-164; Esther Pascua, “Vassals and allies in conflict: relations between Santa María de Montederramo and local Galician society in the thirteenth century”, Beyond the Market. Transactions, property and social networks in monastic Galicia, 1200-1300, ed. by Reyna Pastor de Togneri (Leiden: Brill, 2002), p. 36; Loscertales, Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, II, Villafranca: docs. n. 188, 215, 289, 290, 291, 292, 293, 295, 299, 302, 304, 305, 308, 311, 313, 315, 325, 329, 331 and 333; Molinaseca: docs. n. 213, 214, 215, 218, 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 234, 235, 237, 238, 239, 240, 242, 244, 245, 246, 247, 248, 249, 250 and 251; Antonio López, Historia de la A. M. Iglesia de Santiago de Compostela (Santiago de Compostela: Imp. y Eng. del Seminario Conciliar Central, 1901), pp. 80-81; Cambón, “El monasterio de Melón siglos XII-XII”, doc. n. 269; Romaní, Romaní, A Colección diplomatica do mosteiro cisterciense de Santa María de Oseira (1025-1035), docs. n. 29, 50, 53, 94, 97, 127, 128, 152, 250 and 620.

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The Crisis of Power

Conclusions The examples of Otto IV and the Kings of León-Castile discussed in this study give an insight into the complex relationships between the Cistercians and the European monarchies. These dynamics did not respond to a simple dialectic between the donor and the beneficiary, but reflect complex international, political and economic bargaining. Even at a local level, as in the case of Galicia, these relationships went beyond mere protection. In all likelihood, this was motivated by royal demands, although the Cistercians were able to organise their own urban policies both autonomously and in collaboration with local families. What is important to understand is that royal protection was just one of the means the white monks used to impose their presence in Galicia, but it did not hinder the conflict with other territorial powers, in particular the great aristocracy, such as the Trabas or bishops, who could often enjoy of the same royal protection.

A CRUSADER WITHOUT A SWORD: THE SOURCES RELATING TO THE BLESSED GERARD GIUSEPPE PERTA UNIVERSITÀ DEGLI STUDI “SUOR ORSOLA BENICASA DI NAPOLI”

Gerard, the first Hospitaller, better known as the Blessed Gerard, is a well-documented historical figure, although the romantic attitude towards medieval themes wrapped his life in an aura of legend. He was the founder of the Order of Saint John in Jerusalem (later the Order of Malta). Several documents show his life, activity and successes. It is possible to distinguish documentary sources (bulls, diplomas, letters), as well as literary ones (chronicles and hagiographic texts). The records relating to the earliest Hospitallers are collected in the National Library of Malta and in other funds archived in various European cities. Among the editions of sources about the history of the Order of Saint John in Jerusalem, we must highlight the work of Sebastiano Pauli who, in the 18th century, published a first Codice Diplomatico.1 This was extended and improved by Delaville Le Roulx’s Cartulaire général de l’Ordre des Hospitaliers.2 Moreover, in 1884 Du Bourg provided his Histoire du Grand Prieuré de Toulouse with several pièces justificatives, many of which related to the years of the Blessed Gerard.3 For a preliminary survey, reference to the collections of papal bulls edited by

1

Codice Diplomatico del Sacro Militare Ordine Gerosolimitano, oggi di Malta, ed. by Sebastiano Pauli (Lucca: Marescandoli, 1733). 2 Cartulaire général de l’Ordre des Hospitaliers de St-Jean de Jérusalem (11001310), I-IV, ed. by Joseph Delaville le Roulx (Paris: Leroux, 1894-1906). 3 Antoine Du Bourg, Histoire du Grand Prieuré de Toulouse (Toulouse: Sistac et Boubée, 1883).

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Pflugk-Harttung4 and Hiestand,5 the regesta by Jaffé6 and the inventories by Kehr7 is also required. Historians of the Hospitallers can consult a variety of written records dating back to the eve of the First Crusade. The Order of Saint John, whose birth was officially sanctioned in 1113 by the papal bull Pie postulatio voluntatis of Paschal II, has older origins.8 Shortly before 1070,9 merchants from Amalfi founded a hospice for Latin pilgrims in Jerusalem, which was attached to the Benedictine house of Saint Mary of the Latins. A little later, a second house for women was founded and dedicated to Saint Mary Magdalene.10 The hospices hosted pilgrims, the

4

Acta pontificum Romanorum inedita, ed. by Julius Albert Georg von PflugkHarttung, I-IV (Tubingen: Fues - Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1881-1888). 5 Papsturkunden für Templer und Johanniter, ed. by Rudolf Hiestand, I-II (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1972-84). 6 Regesta pontificum Romanorum ab condita Ecclesia ad annum post Christum natum 1198, ed. by Philippus Jaffé (Berolini: Veit et socius, 1851, republished with new references ed. by Samuel Loewenfeld, Ferdinand Kaltenbrunner and Paul Ewald, I-II (Lipsiae: Veit et comp., 1885-1888). 7 Papsturkunden in Malta. Bericht über die Forschungen L. Schiaparellis, ed. by Paul Fridolin Kehr, Nachrichten der K. Gesellshaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen. Philologisch-historische Klasse (1899), pp. 369-440. 8 On the earliest Hospitallers, see: Jonathan Riley-Smith, The Knights of Saint John in Jerusalem and Cyprus, 1050-1310 (New York: Palgrave and Macmillan, 1973); Rudolf Hiestand, “Die Anfänge der Johanniter”, Die Geislichen Ritterorden Europas, ed. by Josef Fleckenstein and Manfred Hellmann (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke Verlag, 1980), pp. 31-80; Michael Matzke, “De origine Hospitalariorum Hierosolymitanorum: vom klösterlichen Pilgerhospital zur internationalen Organisation”, Journal of Medieval History, 22 (1996), pp. 1-23; Anthony Luttrell, “The Earliest Hospitallers”, Montjoie, Studies in Crusade History in Honour of Hans Eberhard Mayer, ed. by Benjamin Z. Kedar, Jonathan Riley-Smith and Rudolf Hiestand (Ashgate: Variorum, 1997), pp. 37-53; Helen Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2001), pp. 1-17; Francesco Salvestrini, “Tra Europa e Vicino Oriente. L’ordine dei Cavalieri di San Giovanni dal medioevo all’età moderna”, Gli Annali di Eumeswil, Oriente e Occidente, 2/2 (2011), pp. 79-113. 9 The Amalfitan benefactor Mauro died in 1071, see: Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John, 37, writing also: “it is unlikely to have been established later because Jerusalem was disputed by the Egyptians and the Selchüks Turks after 1070”. On the cross-cultural contacts between Amalfi and Jerusalem, see: Guglielmo de’ Giovanni-Centelles, “La derivazione gerosolimitana della croce potenziata di Amalfi”, Studi sull’Oriente Cristiano, 17/2 (2013), pp. 181-221. 10 For an overview on the religious buildings where the Hospital originated, see: Denys Pringle, The churches of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem. A Corpus,

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poor and sick. The First Crusade brought fundamental change to Jerusalem, which became a city under Christian domination. Gerard transformed the Hospital into a “flourishing institution” and extended the existing hospice buildings to meet the growing influx of pilgrims.11 Travellers’ accounts were full of admiration for its charitable activities.12 At the beginning, Western Latins knew there was a Hospital in Jerusalem but were not fully aware of the institution’s independence. In the acts of donation we often read: dederunt Deo et Sancto Sepulcro et Hospitali Hierusalem, et Geraldo hospitalario or even dedit Deo et Sancto Sepulcro et Hospitali eiusdem loci et dompno Geraldo, hospitalario, atque omnibus confratibus suis.

The earliest contributions already clearly reflected public appreciation of the Hospital’s welfare activities. Nevertheless the gifts were addressed ambiguously to God, to Saint John, to Gerard, to the poor and sick in Jerusalem, etc. and the Hospital of Saint John was perceived as something connected to the Holy Sepulchre. But Gerard secured an important privilege that recognised the Hospital’s independence under the shield of the Holy See. With the Pie postulatio voluntatis of 15th February 1113, Paschal II also confirmed the Hospitallers’ properties both in Asia and in the West, as the result of numerous pious donations ad sustentandas peregrinorum et pauperum necessitates, vel in Hierosolymitane ecclesie vel aliarum ecclesiarum parrochiis et civitatum territories.13 In particular, the pope recalls the xenodochia in existence at that time (sicut hodie sunt) in Saint Gilles, Asti, Pisa, Bari, Taranto, Otranto, and Messina. The privileges were confirmed by the bulls of Callixtus II (19th June 1119 from Saint-Gilles),14 and Innocent II (16th June 1135 from Pisa).15 III: The city of Jerusalem (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), pp. 192-207 and 236-258. 11 Luttrell, “The Earliest Hospitallers”, p. 40. 12 See: Peregrinationes tres: Saewulf – John of Würzburg – Theodoricus, ed. by Robert B.C. Huygens (Turnhout: Brepols, 1994). 13 Giacomo Bosio, Dell’istoria della Sacra Religione et illustrissima militia di S. Giovanni Gerosolimitano (Rome: Stamperia di Guglielmo Facciotti, 1629), I, p. 47; Codice Diplomatico, I, pp. 268-269; Sanctorum conciliorum et decretorum collectio nova, ed. by Giovanni Domenico Mansi (Venetiis: Typographia Josephi Salani & Vincentii Junctinii, 1751), XXI, p. 87; Cartulaire général, I, n. 30; regest in: Regesta pontificum Romanorum, n. 6341. 14 Codice Diplomatico, I, pp. 269-270; Cartulaire général, I, n. 48; regest in: Regesta pontificum Romanorum, n. 6700. 15 Cartulaire général, I, n. 113.

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Anyhow, the Hospital’s independence was cemented in 1099. A document from the Archive of Saint Philip in Agira (Sicily) sheds new light on this. On 19th June 1112, Paschal II, taking Saint Mary of the Latins of Jerusalem under the protection of the Holy See, recalls that, Sarracenorum Turcorumque temporibus, the abbey fuit hospicium Latinorum vel Italicorum seu Langobardorum and followed the consuetudo of Montecassino.16 It means, consequently, that with the end of the Muslim domination and the arrival of the Christians, the abbey lost control of the hospice and the two Latin institutions were definitely separated. The well-known bull Pie postulatio voluntatis did not establish the birth of a new institution but simply ratified a status quo. Before the capture of Jerusalem during the First Crusade, Gerard’s hospice had been dependent on the monastery of Saint Mary of the Latins. The records of Saint Mary of the Latins were lost.17 Those produced during the 12th century were most likely preserved in the Hospital’s archives in Jerusalem. It is probable that a little before 1187, when Saladin took the city, as well as in 1291 at the fall of Acre, part of the records were taken to safety and sent to the Western commandries.18 At the time of Gerard, the organisational structure of the Order was still in progress. Nevertheless, the placing of the documentary collections was used to reconstruct the history of the Hospital, and signalled the way 16

See: Walther Holtzmann, “Papst-, Kaiser- un Normannenurkunden aus Unteritalien”, Quellen und Forshungen aus Italienischer Archiven und Bibliotheken, 35 (1955), pp. 44-85, especially, pp. 50-53; Rudolf Hiestand, Papsturkunden für Kirchen im Heiligen Lande (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1985), pp. 112-16. The parchment is preserved in the archive of Saint Philip (seu Saint Mary of the Latins) in Agira, an ancient Basilian monastery that was subordinated - acquiring the same denomination - to the abbey of Saint Mary of the Latins in Jerusalem at the time of the Great Count Roger. The Jerusalem monks from Saint Mary of the Latins came to Agira after the fall of the Holy City in the hands of Saladin (1187). It is conceivable that the abbot brought with him to Sicily a copy of the precious document as well as that a copy of it had already been sent to the monasteries dependent on the abbey of Saint Mary of the Latins in Jerusalem. See: Pietro Sinopoli di Giunta, “Tabulario di S. Maria di Latina di Agira”, Archivio storico per la Sicilia orientale, 2/2 (1926), pp. 135-190 and, for an overview: Lynn T. White, Latin Monasticism in Norman Sicily (Cambridge: The mediaeval Academy of America, 1938), p. 214. 17 With few exceptions, see: Anthony Luttrell, “‘The Hospitallers’ Early Written Records”, The Crusades and their Sources. Essays Presented to Bernard Hamilton, ed. by John France and William G. Zajac (Brookfield: Ashgate, 1998), pp. 135-154, especially, pp. 136-137. 18 Luttrell, “‘The Hospitallers’ Early Written Records”, p. 138.

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the Order was configured over the centuries. Two types of archives of the Order can be identified: the Central Archives in Malta, and peripheral ones, relating to each priory and commandry.19 The National Library in Valletta preserves records produced from 1530 onwards, as well as those of earlier centuries that were moved there over time. The collections are thought to have suffered losses during the 18th and 19th centuries, because parts of the documents that Sebastiano Pauli had been able to read –and copy– were no longer available at the time of Delaville Le Roulx. Among the many vicissitudes, it is possible that the arrival of Napoleon’s troops caused the loss of part of the documentation that was possibly removed along with the treasure of the Order. Interesting documentation is preserved in the archives of the priories. One of the oldest is that of Saint-Gilles. The seaports of Provence were among the main points of embarkation for pilgrims and crusaders. Several acts of donations are related to lands and goods that the Hospital held in the South of France. It is not always easy to identify the sources dealing with the founder of the Hospital of Saint John in Jerusalem. Guglielmo de’ Giovanni-Centelles warns that there was more than one Gerard among the earliest Hospitallers.20 Many homonyms held highly responsible positions in the ecclesiastical hierarchy of Palestine. Heinrich Hagenmayer believes the Blessed Gerard could be associated with the abbas raising the True Cross before the Crusaders during the Battle of Ramleh (1101).21 Errico Cuozzo 19 For a wider panorama on the Hospitallers’ archives see: Louis de Mas Latrie, “Notices sur les archives de Malte à Cité la Vallette”, Archives des missions scientifiques, 6 (1857), pp. 1-240; Joseph Delaville Le Roulx, Les archives, la bibliothèque et le trésor de l’ordre de Saint-Jean de Jérusalem a Malte (Paris: Ernest Thorin, 1883); Eugène de Rozière, “Notice sur les archives de Malte”, Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes, 7 (1946), pp. 567-570; Catalogue of the Records of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem in the Royal Malta Library, ed. by Antonio Zammit Gabarretta, Jos Mizzi and Vincent Borg, I (Valletta: Malta University Press, 1964) and the following volumes compiled by Francis Azzopardi; Gli Archivi per la storia del Sovrano Militare Ordine di Malta, ed. by Cosimo Damiano Fonseca and Cosimo D’Angela (Taranto: Centro di Studi Melitensi, 2005). 20 Guglielmo de’ Giovanni-Centelles, “Il fondatore degli Ospedalieri ‘Ego Geraldus servus Hospitalis sanctae Jerusalem”’, Annali della Pontificia Insigne Accademia di Belle Arti e Lettere dei Virtuosi al Pantheon, 3 (2003), pp. 59-90. 21 Fulcherii Carnotensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, II, XI, 2-9, ed. by Heinrich Hagenmayer (Heidelberg: Carl Winters Universitätsbuchhandlung, 1913), pp. 409412, see the position of Hagenmayer at p. 411, n. 18. Account of the battle in Ekkehardi Uraugensis Abbatis Hierosolymita, Recueil des Historiens des

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identifies him with the abbot of Mout Thabor, receiving from Paschal II in 1103 the honorary title of archiepiscopus totius Galilee et Tyberiadis.22 Cosimo Damiano Fonseca firmly believes he was raised to the Episcopal position.23 What do the records say about him? Most of them attest to a donation: one of the earliest acts we know concerns the land of Fonsorbes;24 even three acts of donations concerning the commandry of Saint Martin de Gap mention the Blessed Gerard;25 in a charta poenitentialis, Pope Paschal II, the patriarch Dagobert and Gerard, servus Hospitalis sancte Hierusalem, grant the remission of sins to those who will help a certain Petrus Raimundi in his charitable actions;26 another act of donation refers to the Blessed Gerard as pater domus Hospitalis Hierusalem.27 Several documents reveal that the Hospital’s activities was already concrete in the early years of the 12th century. In 1102, Poncia of Saisac and her brothers gave the Hospital some possessions from the territory of Puissubran.28 Some years later, Foupier Favard, together with his son and mother, donated the land of Diosovol, including tithes, farmed and uncultivated Croisades. Historiens occidentaux (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1895), V, XXIXXXX, pp. 11-40, 33-35 speaking of a venerabilis abbas Gerhardus, qui tunc Crucem Dominicam semper lateri regis contiguus praeferebat in: Alberti Aquensis Historie, VII, LXVI-LXVIII, Recueil des Historiens des Croisades. Historiens occidentaux, IV (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1879), pp. 265-713, especially, 550552: Gerardus Crucem Dominicam praeferebat ad confusionem et obcaecationem Sarracenorum. 22 Errico Cuozzo, “Le origini degli Ospedalieri alla luce di un nuovo documento”, Annali dell’Università degli Studi Suor Orsola Benincasa di Napoli, 1 (2009), pp. 83-114. 23 Cosimo Damiano Fonseca, “Mezzogiorno e Oriente: il ruolo del Sovrano Militare Ordine Ospedaliero di San Giovanni di Gerusalemme”, Studi Melitensi, 1(1993), pp. 11-22, especially, p. 12. 24 Joseph Delaville Le Roulx, “Trois chartes du XIIe siècle”, Archives de l’Orient Latin, 1 (1881), pp. 409-415 (doc. n. 2); Du Bourg, Histoire du Grand Prieuré de Toulouse, doc. n. 28; Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 3. 25 Paul Guillaume, “Origine des chevaliers de Malte et rôle des donations de la commanderie de Gap”, Bulletin d’histoire ecclésiastique et d’archéologie religieuse des diocèses de Valence, Gap, Grenoble et Viviers, 1 (1880-1881), pp. 157-159 and 176-193; Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 4. 26 Du Bourg, Histoire du Grand Prieuré de Toulouse, doc. n. 38; Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 6; Regesta Regni Hierosolymitani (1097-1291), ed. by Reinhold Röhricht (Oeniponti: Libraria Academica Wagneriana, 1893), doc. n. 36a. 27 Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 7; Regesta Regni Hierosolymitani, doc. n. 36b. 28 Du Bourg, Histoire du Grand Prieuré de Toulouse, n. 38, Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 9

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land, animals, meadows and rivers, men and women.29 In 1116, several benefactors decided to give even the Malafage forest to the Hospital cui preest Geraldus fidelis elemosinarius.30 The name of Gerard is also associated with many churches that the Hospitallers received from local religious authorities: one of Saint Peter in Bélac,31 given by Odo II, abbot of Lézat; another of Saint Sernin in Nohic32 and another in Fustalan,33 both given by Amelius, bishop of Toulouse. A charta renuntiationis reports that Gerard returned two churches, one to the abbot of Cluny, another to the abbot of Moissac.34 In the second decade of the 12th century, the number of donations grew: the Hospitallers gained the churches of Saint Mary the White and Saint Remigius in Toulouse,35 the church of Saint Thomas, which the archbishop of Arles gave with all its associated properties salva reverentia et fidelitate Arelatensis ecclesie,36 Saint Mary of Canabières, given by the bishop of Rodez,37 and many other contributions.38 Donations in the Middle East were not lacking: on June 18th 1118, Roger, ruler of the Crusader state of Antioch, confirmed the properties in possession of the Hospital in his princedom, including the ones he offered directly to the leader of the Hospitallers when they met in Jerusalem.39 All of these gifts are directed to Gerard. But some documents probably related to the years immediately following his death and mention his name simply in accordance with an established custom.40 Papal bulls and letters are also meaningful. In addition to the abovementioned Pie postulatio voluntatis sent to Gerard, Pope Paschal II wrote 29 Delaville le Roulx, “Trois chartes”, doc. n. 1; Du Bourg, Histoire du Grand Prieuré de Toulouse, doc. n. 29; Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 10. 30 Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 40. 31 Du Bourg, Histoire du Grand Prieuré de Toulouse, doc. n. 26; Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 11. 32 Du Bourg, Histoire du Grand Prieuré de Toulouse, doc. n. 56; Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 52. 33 Du Bourg, Histoire du Grand Prieuré de Toulouse, doc. n. 47; Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 26. 34 Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 18. 35 Du Bourg, Histoire du Grand Prieuré de Toulouse, n. 3; Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 35. 36 Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 42. 37 Du Bourg, Histoire du Grand Prieuré de Toulouse, doc. n. 106; Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 50. 38 Du Bourg, Histoire du Grand Prieuré de Toulouse, doc. n. 1; Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 62. 39 Codice Diplomatico, I, p. 6; Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 45. 40 Cartulaire général, I, docs. n. 65, 66.

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another two letters on the same day. The first one was addressed to all the bishops, abbots and nobles of Europe recommending Arcelenus, a delegate chosen by Gerard with the charge of collecting donations for the Hospital.41 The second one basically repeated the content and the form of the first one, but was addressed to the bishops, abbots and nobles of the Iberian Peninsula to which the Pope introduced Palaicus.42 Gerard’s delegates were in Benevento on February 15th, receiving in person the letters that they would then show to potential benefactors. The delegates would inform the pope about the Hospital’s welfare activities, properties, structures and organisation when the pope was not already aware of them. Callixtus II’s bull of 1119 is a confirmation of the Pie postulatio voluntatis: the Ad hoc nos is also addressed to Gerard, who is defined as instituor ac prepositus Hierosolymitani xenodochii.43 In 1135, Innocent II confirmed to the new Master Raymond of Puy44 the privileges, given per sollicitudinis predecessoris tue bone memorie Giraldi ac tue instantiam.45 Gerard was also mentioned in a letter from Alexander III, on 20th June 1172, in which the pope wished that the incoming master of the Hospital would follow the vestigia et statuta of his much missed predecessors.46 To sum up, what do the records say about Gerard? It is possible to define his institutional role starting from the analysis of the titles to which he is associated.47 They can suggest his functions. He was defined hospitalarius,48 institutor,49 prepositus,50 venerabilis filius,51 frater,52 servus,53 magister,54 elemosinarius,55 procurator pauperum Christi,56

41

Hiestand, Papsturkunden, I, doc. n. 1. Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 31. 43 Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 48; regest in Regesta pontificum Romanorum, doc. n. 6700. 44 Raymond of Puy says that he became “servus pauperum Christi” after Gerard’s death, see: Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 46. 45 Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 113. 46 Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 434. 47 See: De’Giovanni-Centelles, “Il fondatore”, pp. 80-83. 48 Cartulaire général, I, docs. n. 4,7, 9, 10, 26, 35, 42, 52, 62, 65 and 66. 49 Cartulaire général, I, docs. n. 30, 31 and 48; Hiestand, Papsturkunden, I, doc. n. 1. 50 Cartulaire général, I, docs. n. 30, 31 and 48; Hiestand, Papsturkunden, I, doc. n. 1. 51 Cartulaire général, I, docs. n. 30 and 48. 52 Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 10. 53 Cartulaire général, I, docs. n. 6, 18 and 50. 54 Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 434. 55 Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 40. 56 Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 50. 42

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senadoxius,57 minister Hospitalis58 and pater ipsius Domus.59 He was the leader of a group of friars, the head of a religious entity and the founder of this new institution that only later would go on to become a military order. In the beginning the institution just administered one house for pilgrims and the poor, which of course went on to be followed by many others. His main activity was philanthropy. The fact that Gerard was mentioned in the acts produced in Europe attested to the widespread nature of his reputation. He was considered an authoritative and trustworthy man. Gerard died in 1120. In the Chronicon Sancti Maxentii Pictavensis we read: Eodem anno mel pluit de celo. In Hierusalem venit ignis, sicut in Pascha, in die Assumptionis sancte Marie; Giraudus, hospitalarius de Hierusalem, eodem anno obiit in sancta conversatione [...].60

The anonymous author of the chronicle was a contemporary of Gerard. His work was completed before 1124.61 Another literary source telling of Gerard’s death is the Historia Hierosolymitana by Fulcher of Chartres. Nevertheless, the reference to the founder of the Hospitallers is found only in a manuscript in the Cambridge Library. While discussing the events of 1120, the copyist inserted the information about Gerard’s death on September 3rd and the quotation from his epitaph: Girardus iacet hic, vir humillimus inter Eoos: Pauperibus servus et pius hospitibus; Vilis in aspectu, sed ei cor nobile fulsit. Paret in his laribus quam probus exstiterit. Providus in multis facienda decenter agebat. Plurima pertractans multiplici specie. Pluribus in terris sua sollers bracchia tendens, Undique collegit pasceret unde suos. Septies et decies orto sub Virgine Phoebo, Ad superos vehitur, angelicis manibus.62

57

Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 4. Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 18. 59 Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 7. 60 La Chronique de Saint-Maixent 751-1140 [Chronica Sancti Maxentii], ed. and trans. by Jean Verdon (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1979), pp. 189-90. 61 La Chronique de Saint-Maixent, p. VIII. Another author added selected notes on the years before 1141. 62 Fulcherii Historia, Lib. III, 9, 7, p. 642. 58

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His relics were in Manosque in 1283, preserved in a gilded silver box adorned with precious stones.63 Even today, some parts are preserved in that town, while Gerard’s skull was later moved to Malta and other fragments were given to several Hospitallers’ commmanderies around the world (South Africa, Germany, England). Because of their legal nature, documentary sources can be easily contextualised, especially those bearing the place and date of writing. Nevertheless, narrative sources are more extensive and detailed, and likewise useful in defining a character beyond its institutional role. Moreover, literary sources sketch out the context in which Gerard’s work took place. Several medieval historiographers recall the Amalfitan foundation of the Hospital. Amatus of Montecassino, writing his History of the Normans, explained about a rich and pious man from Amalfi named Mauro, who financed the building of two hospitals, one in Jerusalem, another in Antioch.64 Also, the anonymous Vetus Chronicon Amalphitanum recounted that the Amalfitans had founded two hospitals in Jerusalem, one for men, a second exclusively for women.65 At the beginning of the 13th century Sicardo, bishop of Cremona, related that a hospice was founded in 1084 by Amalfitans close to the monastery of Saint Mary of the Latins. The merchants installed some custodes there, with the task of giving care and hospitality to the pilgrims arriving in Jerusalem devotionis causa.66 The Historia rerum in partibus transmarinis gestarum by William of Tyre, written in the second half of the twelfth century, is among the most detailed sources available on the earliest Hospitallers. William had studied in Europe between 1145 and 1165. Later, he left for the Holy Land where Amalric I of Jerusalem appointed him the Kingdom’s Chancellor. He was also preceptor of Amalric’s son, the king-to-be Baldovin IV, and became archbishop of Tyre in 1175. In William’s work, the origins of the Hospital 63 Firmin Giraud, Le bienheureux Gérard, fondateur et premier Grand Maitre des Hospitaliers de Saint Jean de Jérusalem (Aix-en-Provence: Imprimerie & Librairie Makaire, 1909), pp. 74-75 (doc. n. 1). 64 Amato di Montecassino, Storia de’Normanni, volgarizzata in antico francese, ed. by Vincenzo de Bartholomaeis, Fonti per la storia d’Italia (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medioevo, 1935), Lib. VIII, 3, pp. 341-342. 65 Italia sacra sive de episcopis Italiae et insularum adjacentium, ed. by Ferdinando Ughello (Venetiis: apud Sebastianum Coleti, 1721), VII, Amalphitani Archiepiscopi, 4, coll. 198-99. 66 Sicardi Episcopi Cremonensis Chronicon, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, VII, ed. by Ludovico Antonio Muratori, (Mediolani: Ex typographia Societatis Palatinae in Regia Curia, 1725), pp. 521-626, especially, pp. 586-587.

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are remembered. The Amalfitan merchants were on good terms with the caliph for business reasons. Hence, they were allowed to build a monastery in honour of the Virgin in the district of Jerusalem where the Latins lived. When the Crusaders took Jerusalem in 1099, Gerard had been –for many years, it is said– the person in charge of the Hospital linked to the monastery of Saint Mary of the Latins: Adveniente namque Christiano populo et principibus a Deo protectis ... repertus est quidam Geraldus, vir probate conversationis, qui pauperibus in eodem loco tempore hostilitatis de mandato abbatis et monachorum multo tempore devote servierat.67

William wrote that he was tortured and lamed by the Muslims. They indeed believed that he had money hidden away, and suspected he was plotting something for the arrival of the Christian besiegers: Erat preterea eodem tempore in eadem Deo amabili civitate vir vite venerabilis et fide insignis Geraldus nomine, qui ei de quo supradiximus preerat xenodochio, in quo pauperes, qui orationis gratia ad urbem accedebant, hospitabantur et quemquam pro loco et tempore sumebant refectionem. Hunc credentes pecuniarum aliquam habere repositionem et suspectum habentes ne in nostrorum adventu aliquid eis moliretur dampnosum, vinculis subiecerunt et verberibus, ita ut manuum ac pedum torquendo eius confringerent articulos et membrorum partem maximam redderent inutilem.68

The Historia orientalis seu hierosolymitana by James (Jacques) of Vitry was based on the work of William of Tyre, but with interesting additions. James of Vitry exhorted the Crusade against the Cathars. A little later, he left for the Holy Land and sat on the Episcopal siege of Acre between 1216 and 1228; where the Hospitallers had their headquarters from 1191. Coming back to Europe, James of Vitry became cardinal and bishop of Frascati (Tusculanus). He wrote several works: letters, sermons, hagiographies, and two chronicles. He opened the tradition according to which Gerard affixed the white cross on the friars’ robes: Postquam autem divine placuit pietati ut civitatem Redemptionis nostre per ducem Godefridum et alios Christi fideles ab impiorum dominio liberaret et eam cultui restitueret Christiano, vir quidam sancte vite et probate

67

Willelmi Tyrensis Archiepiscopi Chronicon, ed. by Robert B.C. Huygens, Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaevalis, LXIII-LXIII A (Turnhout: Brepols, 1986), XVIII, 5, p. 817. 68 Willelmi Tyrensis Chronicon, VII, 23, p. 375.

136 A Crusader without a Sword: The Sources relating to the Blessed Gerard religionis nomine Gerardus, qui longo tempore de mandato abbatis in predicto hospitali pauperibus devote ministraverat, adiunctis sibi quibusdam honestis et religiosis viris habitum regularem suscepit et, vestibus suis albam crucem exterius affigens in pectore, regule salutari et honestis institutionibus facta solemniter professione seipsum obligavit.69

Later historians would repeat the plot given by William of Tyre and developed by James of Vitry:70 Marin Sanudo Torsello, writing in the first half of the 13th century, explained that Gerard was surrounded by honest and God-fearing men who were called fratres hospitalarii. He gave them a habit and a rule.71 In the 14th century, John Longus de Ipra, abbot of Saint Bertin, correctly connected the history of the Hospitallers to that of the Benedictine Order.72 Other literary sources are the Miracula. They are legendary accounts, respecting the same plot, already hatched and developed before Saladin’s conquest of Jerusalem (1187)73 but substantially rewritten, with some variations of the model, between the 13th and 15th centuries. The legends were placed at the beginnings of the manuscripts carrying the statutes of the Order.74 The Miracula also had the task of stressing le prestige d’antiquité of the Hospitallers, at the same time stimulating the generosity of the pious benefactors.75 According to the Miracula, Judas Maccabeus 69 Jacques de Vitry, Histoire orientale ed. by Jean Donnadieu [Iacobi de Vitriaco Acconensis Episcopi, Historia Orientalis seu Hierosolymitana] (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008), LXIV, pp. 254-268. 70 Some references are in: Joseph Delaville Le Roulx, Les Hospitaliers en Terre Sainte et à Chypre (1100-1310) (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1904), p. 24. 71 Marinus Sanutus Torsellus, Liber Secretorum fidelium Crucis super Terrae Sanctae recuperatione et conversatione, ed. by Joshua Prawer (Jerusalem: Massada Press, 1972), III, 7, III, pp. 177-178. 72 Iohannis Longi Chronica Monasterii Sancti Bertini, ed. by Otto Holder-Egger, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores, XXV (Hannoverae: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1880), pp. 736-866, especially, pp. 795-796: Militares ordines omnes ab ordine nigrorum monachorum beati Benedicti sumpserunt exordium [...] Terra Sancta et Hierusalem conquisita per Godefridum, quidam Gerardus, qui in dicto hospitali Sancti Iohannis diu pauperibus servierat, habitum religionis nigrum ab abbate dicti loci peciit, et eius exemplo plures alii cum eo. 73 An early version of the Miracula can be dated between 1081 and 1085 and introduces an Anglo-Norman translation of the Rule, see: The Hospitallers’ Riwle (Miracula et Regula Hospitalis Sancti Johannis Jerosolimitani), ed. by Keith Val Sinclair (London: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1984). 74 Antoine Calvet, Les Légendes de l’Hôpital de Saint-Jean de Jérusalem (Paris: Presses de l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne, 2000). 75 Delaville Le Roulx, Les Hospitaliers, 16.

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had been the first patron of the Hospital, later Saint Zachariah and Saint Elizabeth had served the poor in the hospice and even Jesus Christ himself had been there. A bull by Celestine III in 1191 (Innocent IV again in 1254) acknowledged the official nature of the Miracula.76 Without neglecting historical details, they referred also to the miracle related to the Blessed Gerard.77 This is the outline of the account: Gerard lived in the Holy City caring for the poor and the sick. During the siege of Jerusalem, each day he climbed upon a parapet and, rather than stones, threw small loaves to the besieging crusaders. The Islamic guards discovered Gerard while he was helping the Christian troops and took him before the Sultan. For evidence, the sack of loaves was shown, but unbelievably the accusers could only find stones in his bag. The loaves had miraculously turned into rocks. Gerard was freed and continued helping the crusaders each day until July 15th 1099. The crusaders recompensed him by making donations to the Hospital, which, at the time of its first Master, acquired possessions per diversas regiones.78 The accounts lead to hagiography: when Gerard died –we read– he was in coelesti sede collocato.79 An official historiography of the Order was developing in parallel.80 Guglielmo di Santo Stefano was a member of the priory of Lombardy and later the person in charge of the commandry of Cyprus. He refused the mythical account of the Miracula placing the early history of the Hospitallers in the context of the Holy Land pilgrimage. He recounted that some Benedictine monks were called from Italy to administrate the 76

Cartulaire général, I, doc. n. 911; Cartulaire général, II, doc. n. 2674. It seems that earliest redactions of the Miracula did not include the account of Gerard’s miracle, see: Anthony Luttrell, “Préface”, in: Calvet, Les Légendes, p. 8. 78 See: Josephi Historiographi, Tractatus de exordio sacrae domus hospitalis Hierosolimitani, pp. 6-8 ; Recueil des Historiens des Croisades: Historiens occidentaux, V, pp. 405-421, especially, pp. 405-410; Le commencement de la fondation de la Sainte Maison de l’Ospital de Saint Johan de Jerusalem, pp. 6-8 ; Recueil des Historiens des Croisades: Historiens occidentaux, V, pp. 411-421, especially, pp. 418-419. In the 15th century, a similar account was written by Guillaume Caoursin, Primordium et origo sacri xenodochii atque ordinis militiae sancti Joannis Baptistae hospitalariorum Hierosolimitani, pp. 4-6 ; Recueil des Historiens des Croisades: Historiens occidentaux, V, pp. 430-432, especially, pp. 431-432, with a french version Le fondement du Saint Hospital et de l’ordre de la Chevalrie de Saint Jehan Baptiste de Jerusalem, pp. 4-6 ; Recueil des Historiens des Croisades: Historiens occidentaux, V, 433-435, pp. 435-436. 79 Josephi Historiographi, Tractatus, p. 410. 80 An account depending on Willliam of Tyre’s chronicle is the anonymous De prima institutione Hospitalariorum, pp. 1-7; Recueil des Historiens des Croisades: Historiens occidentaux, V, pp. 401-404, especially, pp. 401-403. 77

138 A Crusader without a Sword: The Sources relating to the Blessed Gerard

hospice for Western pilgrims established close to the Holy Sepulchre. Its patron was Saint John the Baptist and its first guardian was Gerard: La qual maison estoit apelée l’Ospital de Saint Johan de Jherusalem, de lequel Girart estoit gardien. Lequel saint Johan, au tems de Melchiar, n’estoit pas encore nés. Por quoi je apelle cestui le comensement, et le dit Girart premier gardien.81

Guglielmo di Santo Stefano showed a critical mind and a skill analysing historical data that was lost over time. We must reject the idea of a man whose life was surrounded by mystery, obscurity and legend. There are around fifty documents mentioning Gerard directly and many others that do not cite him but that refer to his life, activity and successes as head of the Hospitallers. If we separate the reality of the time from the development of the institution over the following years, Gerard emerges as a crusader without a sword. At the time of the Blessed Gerard, the Hospital of Saint John in Jerusalem was not a military Order. Nevertheless, he stands out as one of the protagonists of the early history of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. He was the person responsible for the Hospital when it was linked to Saint Mary of the Latins, and later, maybe before 1113, the leader of an independent institution whose autonomy was sanctioned by the papal bull Pie postulatio voluntatis. Moreover, the memory of the Blessed Gerard and the historical data did not always coincide. First, it is not strictly correct to say that he was the first Grand Master of the Hospitallers: that title did not yet exist at that time, but was adopted in the middle of the 13th century. However, the Order’s tradition, which is best expressed in the Chronicle of the Deceased Masters, identifies Gerard as the first Master: Sequuntur nomina bone memorie dominorum magistrorum qui in sacra domo hospitalis Sancti Ioannis Hierosolymitani a primeva ejusdem domus institutione hactenus extiterunt. Primus fuit magister Girardus, qui fuit gardianus hospitalis pauperum in Hierusalem. Hic fuit repertus ibidem quando Godofridus de Boyllon et

81

“That house was called the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem, whose Gerard was the guardian. Given that during the times of Melchiar, Saint John was not born, I understand here the beginning and that Gerard was the first guardian” (Guillaume de Saint-Estève, Comment la sainte maison de l’hospital de Saint Johan de Jerusalem commença, pp. 1-3; Recueil des Historiens des Croisades: Historiens occidentaux, V, pp. 422-427, especially, pp. 422-424).

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peregrini christiani ceperunt eandem.82

Secondly, about his name: unhappily, the Blessed Gerard is also known as Gerard Tenque or Tunc. But the cognomen was the result of a bad translation made by the 18th century scholar Haitze, Fr. Gerardus tunc Hospitalis praefectus cum a Christianis duce Godefredo Hierusalem capta est anno domini MLXXXIX”.83 He did not understand the meaning of the adverb of time tunc, opening a tradition that we can still find in popular and non-scientific literature. Some historians believed they had found the homeland of the Blessed Gerard (Tenque) in the town of Martigues, a Mediterranean seaport in Provence. In Martigues, it is possible to see some relics, a place, a statue and a memorial stone dedicated to Gerard Tenque.84 It is not the topic of this paper to discuss and explain whether Gerard came from Amalfi or from the nearby town of Scala. Indeed, we cannot understand why the Amalfitans would choose a man from a different country to manage their Hospital. The problem surrounding Gerard’s origins is crucial for those scholars studying the history of the Order of Malta. Does the Order have Italian (Southern Italy) or French (Provence) roots? The case of René Grousset is important. He wrote a Histoire des Croisades in three volumes and, some years later, a book abrégée with the title Epopée des Croisades on the same topic. In the first work, he wrote that Gerard surely came from Amalfi (personnage sans doute d’origine amalfitaine)85 but in the second book, he said Gerard was from Martigues.86 Did he change his opinion? It seems unlikely, even if not impossible. But I believe it is impossible to affirm that a historian such as René Grousset forgot to justify a new assertion without even so much as a footnote.

82 Chronica magistrorum defunctorum, ed. by Louis de Mas Latrie, Archives, bibliothèque et inscriptions de Malte (Paris: Imprimérie Imperiale, 1857), pp. 2630. Such text was constantly updated and collocated before the statutes of the Order. This text is dated 1357. A slightly later version is in: Monasticon Anglicanum etc., ed. by William Dudgale (London: Harding and Lepard, 1830), VI/2, p. 796. 83 Bernard Galimard Flavigny, Histoire de l’ordre de Malte (Paris: Perrin, 2006), p. 20. 84 Daniel Le Blevec, “Aux origines des Hospitaliers de Saint-Jean de Jérusalem: Gérard dit ‘Tenque’ et l’établissement de l’ordre dans le Midi”, Annales du Midi, 89 (1977), pp. 137-151, especially, pp. 150-151. 85 René Grousset, Histoire des Croisades et du Royaume Franc de Jérusalem (Paris: Plon, 1934), I, p. 541. 86 René Grousset, L’Epopée des Croisades (Paris: Librairie Académique Perrin, 1995), p. 90.

THE MILITARY ORDERS IN LATIUM1 NADIA BAGNARINI UNIVERSITÀ DEGLI STUDI DI SIENA

1. Status quaestionis Even today, writing a book about Templar architecture is an adventure for whoever does it, an adventure similar to what it must have been like in the days of chivalry. Sometimes we find memories of Templar architecture in ancient sites which are enchanting but overrun by tourists: from Laon and Segovia to Tomar or Tortosa in Syria. More often, however, one finds these memories in hidden places in the countryside, perhaps by climbing up to fortified rocks or fortresses from long ago, which still retain their relationship to the landscape and the evidence of the human hand, reflecting the medieval sense of being. These words were pronounced by the late Antonio Cadei2 in the foreword of what is still – alongside the studies of Jean Fuguet in Catalonia3 and Dennis Pringle and Adrian Boas for eastern Latium4 – the fundamental work about the architecture of the military orders in the Mediterranean. This book contained not only the wide-ranging essay by Cadei himself, but also the seminal art-history based analysis of the

1

Abbreviations used: AOM, Archives of the Order of Malta; ASMOMR, Archivio del Sovrano Militare Ordine di Malta in Rome; BAV, Biblioteca degli Ardenti di Viterbo; BNF, Bibliothèque Nationale de France. 2 Antonio Cadei, “Architettura sacra templare”, Monaci in Armi. L’architettura dei Templari attraverso il Mediterraneo, ed. by Goffredo Viti, Antonio Cadei and Valerio Ascani (Florence: Certosa di Firenze, 1995), pp. 15-173, especially, p. 19. 3 Joan Fuguet, L’arquitectura dels Templers a Catalunya (Barcelona: Rafael Dalmau Editor, 1995). 4 Denys Pringle, The Churches of the Crusaders Kigdom of Jerusalem, 2 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993-1998); Adrian Boas, Archaeology of the Military Orders. A Survey of the Urban Centres, Rural Settlements and Castles of the Military Orders in the Latin East (c.1120-1291) (Oxon and New York: Routledge, 2006).

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settlements of the military orders in Tuscany by Valerio Ascani. The latter essay is an important point of reference for this study.5 This chapter is a first attempt at a comparative art-history study of the three major military orders – the Templars, the Teutonic Order and the Knights Hospitaller – in the Latium area. There is already a rich bibliography covering various aspects of the history of the military Orders, but publications dedicated to a comparative study of architectural remains of the military Orders are still rare. The greatest difficulty is posed by those sites that have undergone extensive redevelopment since their construction, or sites that have been subject to restoration processes which removed all traces of the medieval aspects present; negligence over the centuries right down to the present-day is another factor that has led to the loss of various structures, or made buildings difficult to access and therefore assess. It was decided that such an architectural-comparative study would be undertaken by focusing on the region of Latium, an area that of itself has received only limited attention. With regards to the Templars, there are some key studies already available, including those produced by the University of Roma La Sapienza, published in the Acts of the Congress of Casamari, L’Ordine Templare nel Lazio Meridionale,6 studies by the present author,7 as well as by Enzo Valentini.8 Regarding the Teutonic 5

Valerio Ascani, “L’Architettura religiosa degli Ordini militari in Toscana”, Monaci in Armi. L’architettura dei Templari attraverso il Mediterraneo, pp. 187245. 6 L’Ordine Templare nel Lazio Meridionale, ed. by Clemente Ciammaruconi (Casamari: Edizioni Casamari, 2003). 7 Nadia Bagnarini, “Santa Maria in Capita: la casa dei cavalieri templari in località Bagnorea”, Atti del XXII Convegno di Ricerche Templari (Tuscania: Penne e Papiri, 2005), pp. 29-44; Nadia Bagnarini, “Domus et ecclesia. L’architettura dei cavalieri Templari nel centro Italia: due regioni campione Lazio e Umbria”, I Templari nell’Italia centro-meridionale. Storia ed architettura, ed. by Cristian Guzzo (Tuscania: Penne e Papiri, 2008), pp. 17-56; Nadia Bagnarini, L’insediamento templare di Santa Maria in Carbonaria a Viterbo. Dalla facies Medievale alle trasformazioni moderne. Storia ed architettura (Tuscania: Penne e Papiri, 2011); Nadia Bagnarini, “Santa Maria in Carbonara in Viterbo: history and architecture of one of the most powerful Templar preceptories in Northern Lazio”, The Military Orders. Politics and Power. Fifth International Conference. Organised by the Cardiff Centre for the Crusades (Farnham: Ashgate Publishers, 2012); Nadia Bagnarini, “Gli ordini religioso-militari a Viterbo: Templari, Ospitalieri e Teutonici. Storia e architettura”, Deus Vult. Miscellanea di studi sugli ordini militari, ed. by Cristian Guzzo (Tuscania: Penne e Papiri, 2011), pp. 145166; Nadia Bagnarini, “I Templari nella Tuscia. Nuove acquisizioni da un registro

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knights, one still needs to refer to the work carried out by Kurt Forstreuter in the 1960s,9 and the more recent studies (1990s onwards) by Klaus Militzer10 and Jan Erik Beuttel,11 Thomas Frank, Barbara Bombi and Kristjan Toomaspoeg,12 even if their focus is not primarily architectural. Finally, one needs to note works about the Hospitallers published from the 1990s onwards looking at the Roman parts of Tuscia13 in conjunction with studies about the Roman seat of San Basilio at the Foro di Traiano done by Annibale Ilari,14 and in particular by Nicoletta Bernacchio.15 dell’Archivio Segreto Vaticano”, Atti del XXVIII Convegno di Ricerche Templari ed. by LARTI (Tuscania: Penne e Papiri, 2011), pp. 105-116; Nadia Bagnarini, “I Templari nella Tuscia viterbese: vecchie considerazioni e nuove prospettive di ricerca. Storia ed architettura”, Ordines Militares, forthcoming. 8 Enzo Valentini, “Santa Maria del Tempio a Valentano”, Atti del XII Convegno di Ricerche Templari, pp. 65-72; Enzo Valentini, I Templari a Civitavecchia e nel territorio fra Tarquinia e Cerveteri (Tuscania: Penne e Papiri, 2008); Enzo Valentini, “La presenza templare nel Lazio”, I Templari nell’Italia centromeridionale. Storia ed architettura, pp. 161-206. 9 Kurt Forstreuter, Der Deutsche Orden am Mittelmeer (Bonn: Wissenschaftliches Archiv, 1967). 10 Klaus Militzer, Von Akkon zur Marienburg. Verfassung und Sozialstruktur des Deutschen Ordens (1190-1309) (Marburg: Elwert, 1999), pp. 183-189. 11 Jan Erik Beuttel, Der Generalprokurator des Deutschen Ordens an der römischen Kurie. Amt, Funktionen, personelles Umfeld und Finanzierung (Marburg: Elwert, 1999). 12 Thomas Frank, “Der Deutsche Orden in Viterbo (13.-15. Jahrhundert)”, Vita religiosa im Mittelalter. Festschrift für Kaspar Elm zum 70. Geburtstag, ed. by Franz J. Felten and Nikolas Jaspert (Berlin: Duncker und Humblot, 1999), pp. 321343; Thomas Frank, Bruderschaften im spätmittelalterlichen Kirchenstaat. Viterbo, Orvieto, Assisi (Tubingen: Niemeyer, 2002); Barbara Bombi, “L’Ordine Teutonico nell’Italia centrale”, L’Ordine Teutonico nel Mediterraneo, ed. by Hubert Houben (Galatina: Congedo, 2004), pp. 197-215; Kristjan Toomaspoeg, “Die Deutschordenskirche Santa Maria in Domnica im Licht eines unbekannten Inventars von 1285”, Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen archiven und bibliotheken, 83 (2003), pp. 83-101. 13 Anthony Luttrell, “Two Templar-Hospitaller Preceptorie North of Tuscania”, Papers of the British School in Rome, 39 (1971), pp. 90-124. 14 Annibale Ilari, Il Granpriorato Giovannita di Roma: ricerche storiche e ipotesi (Taranto: Centro Studi Melitensi, 1998). 15 Nicoletta Bernacchio, “Per la definizione topografica dell’isolato di San Basilio. Notizie inedite dall’archivio del cardinale Camillo Cybo, gran priore di Roma nel 1731”, Scavi dei Fori Imperiali. Il Foro di Augusto (l’area centrale), ed. by Roberto Meneghini and Riccardo Santangeli (Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 2010), pp. 155-170; Nicoletta Bernacchio, “L’Ospedale giovannita nel Foro di Traiano”, L’Ordine Templare nel Lazio Meridionale, pp. 247-274.

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2. Why Latium? During the Middle Ages, this area consisted of part of the Patrimonium Sancti Petri (the Church State), Sabina, Campania and Marittima; it was intersected by a number of important ancient and medieval roads. The first was the Via Francigena,16 which allowed pilgrims to reach the Urbe, that is, the city of Rome. From there, one then reached the Appian Way, which led to the harbours of Puglia from where pilgrims could embark for the Holy Land. Furthermore, the Pope’s itinerant court was hosted in Viterbo, Rieti and Anagni,17 all within Latium, a factor that added prestige to the area. The presence of the papal court in the area was a factor in influencing the choice of the military orders to be present in Latium. At the same time, other factors were also at play. The Templars, for instance, wanted a widespread presence in the territory through their preceptories, from which a surplus was produced to send to the Holy Land. As a result of extensive research conducted in the Vatican Secret Archive, the State Archive of Rome, the Capitoline Archive of Rome and the Archive of the Sovereign Military Order of Malta in Rome, it can be shown that the first military-religious order to obtain a donation in the Urbe from the Holy See was the Teutonic Order. Pope Honorius III granted the Teutonic Knights the archdeaconry of Santa Maria in Domnica, situated on the western end of the Celius hill, on 28th July 1220. It remained in their possession until the pontificate of Clement V, when the Curia moved to Avignon and the territory passed into the hands of the Pope’s nephew, the cardinal-deacon Bernardo di Sant’Agata. He was entrusted with the management of the Church in spiritualibus et temporalibus, thereby removing it from the Teutonic Order’s properties.18 A very interesting letter, dating from 1256, was drawn-up by the notary Giovanni da Capua (co-brother of the Order as well as being its Procurator General) to Riccardo Annibaldi, the cardinal-deacon of Sant’Angelo. In it, da Capua claimed to have received a request from the Master of the brothers in Acre. They complained about the limited space in domibus 16

Renato Stopani, Le grandi vie di pellegrinaggio nel Medioevo: le strade per Roma (Poggibonsi: Centro Studi Romei, 1986); Renato Stopani, La via Francigena, una strada europea nell’Italia del Medioevo (Florence: Le Lettere, 1988); Renato Stopani, “La via Francigena: le soste dei pellegrini in Toscana e nel Lazio”, Le soste dei pellegrini lungo la via Francigena. La quotidianità della fede, la straordinarietà del viaggio (Rome: Tipografia Ostinese, 2006), pp. 21-161. 17 Maria Teresa Gigliozzi, I Palazzi del papa. Architettura e ideologia. Il Duecento (Rome: Viella, 2003). 18 Barbara Bombi, “L’Ordine Teutonico nell’Italia centrale”, pp. 197-198.

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Sancte Marie in Domnica. Da Capua requested that this situation be attended to, since the Grand Master was about to arrive in Rome from Germany and Prussia together with some co-brothers to celebrate the Chapter General.19 Thus far, it has not proven possible to identify the location of this domus. The earliest description of the personal and real estate goods of the archdiocese is mentioned in an inventory dated 31st August 1285.20 It was probably compiled on the occasion of the election of a new Prosecutor General of the Teutonic Order to the Roman Curia, and it shows the remarkable extent of their properties with some 40 hectares from the Lateran to the fortified centre of Rome. Moreover, they owned precious objects, such as chalices, small silver bottles, liturgy books and opulent paraments. Nevertheless, the inventory does not furnish any reference to an existing convent building next to the church. Recent analysis of the perimeter wall of the church allowed the building to be dated to approximately the time of Pope Paschal I, who had planned to partially reuse the ancient Roman Statio Cohortium V Vigilium (that is the walls of the former barracks of the regional firemen) for its pedaments. The building that can still be seen today behind the apse seems to be what 17th century documents and an engraving by Giacomo Lauro from 1614 indicate as the gardener’s house. It probably had one floor and featured a quadrangular turret.21 It is being argued here that the grant of the archdiocese to the Teutonic Order was part of a wider set of pontifical policies. Some years earlier, in 1209, Pope Innocent III granted the Trinitarian Order the church and monastery of San Tommaso in Formis, right next to Santa Maria in Domnica, with the purpose of installing a poor-house and giving assistance to men marked by years of prison at the hands of the enemy.22 Prior to the arrival of the Trinitarians, it is believed that the monastery of San Tommaso in Formis was inhabited by a Benedictine community, as is shown by some documents dealing with properties that were shared with

19

Barbara Bombi, “L’Ordine Teutonico nell’Italia centrale”, pp. 207-208. Toomaspoeg, “Die Deutschordenskirche Santa Maria in Domnica im Licht eines unbekannten Inventars von 1285”, pp. 83-101. 21 Letizia Bencini, “Il Seicento: la navicella e i Mattei”, Caelius I Santa Maria in Domnica, San Tommaso in Formis e il Clivus Scauri, pp. 327-330, especially, p. 327. 22 Floriana Svizzeretto, “La chiesa e l’ospedale fra il XII e il XIV secolo. L’insediamento dell’ordine dei Trinitari nel 1209”, Caelius I Santa Maria in Domnica, San Tommaso in Formis e il Clivus Scauri, pp. 395-402, especially, pp. 395-396. 20

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other Benedictine monasteries, such as San Gregorio, San Bonifacio, and Santa Maria in Aventino. The presence of the Templars on the Aventine hill23 can be securely dated from 1159 onwards, when they had taken over the management of the cenoby from the Benedictines. According to Geoffrey of Auxerre in the fourth of his books on the life of Saint Bernard, the Templars had settled in the city in 1138. As a token of devotion and gratitude towards Saint Bernard, who had sustained the newborn military-religious order, after his departure from Rome in June 1138, a habit of the Doctor mellifluus was preserved by the fratres autem Jerosolymitani Templi, who had just settled in their novam domum in Rome. Clemente Ciammaruconi wonders whether this novam domum24 could be the already-settled Santa Maria in Aventino.25 On the other hand, Fulvio Bramato argues that this first house, this domus, was close to the Sancta Sanctorum at San Giovanni in Laterano or near the abbey of Santi Vincenzo e Anastasio ad Aquas Salvias.26 The preceptory on the Aventine, which was composed of a cult building known as Santa Maria del Priorato and a convent building placed perpendicularly (though slightly off-set) is considered by Pio Francesco Pistilli as the most ancient example of an archetype settlement which would be developed in the following decades into two Templar foundations in central Italy: San Bevignate at Perugia and Santa Maria in Carbonara at Viterbo.27 In contrast to these, however, the Roman preceptor consisted of the cult building and the residential wing, probably following a pre-existing Cluniac monastery. Furthermore, a gallery decorated with a cycle of pictures representing a calendar was placed between the apse and 23

Ottone di Frisinga, Gesta Friderici I Imperatoris. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores, ed by. Georg H. Pertz (Hannover: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1868), XX, pp. 481-482. 24 Gaufridi Claraevallensi, Sancti Bernardi abbatis clarae-vallensis opera omnia. Patrologia Latina, ed. by Jacques Paul Migne (Parisiis: apud Gaume FratresBibliopolas, 1839), CLXXXV, col. 323. 25 Clemente Ciammaruconi, “L’Ordine Templare nel Lazio meridionale. Analisi di una strategia insediativa”, L’Ordine templare nel Lazio meridionale, pp. 45-101, especially, pp. 46-47. 26 Fulvio Bramato, “La ‘guerra’ e la ‘santità’ nelle domus templari italiane delle origini. Note ed appunti a margine di alcune fonti narrative”, I Templari, la guerra e la santità, ed. by Simonetta Cerrini (Rimini: Il Cerchio, 2000), pp. 69-83, especially, pp. 74-75. 27 Pio Francesco Pistilli, “Due tipologie insediative templari: la domus romana sull’Aventino e il locus fortificato di San Felice Circeo”, L’Ordine templare nel Lazio meridionale, pp. 157-179, especially, pp. 172-173.

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the free portion of the eastern side of the domus, at the same time fulfilling the role of a representative façade.28 Finally, the settlement was linked to the Tiber River through stairs from Via Marmorata where the Templars owned a house nearby.29 The detachment of parts of the plaster of the western part of the convent wing has allowed analysis of the original masonry made-up of re-used bricks with a particular way of using mortar that was not in use beyond 1200.30 As for the Hospitallers, the earliest document available is dated 4th December 1217 and mentions the prior and the fratres hospitalis jerosolimitani sancti Basilii in Urbe, that is, the settlement at Trajan’s Forum close to the ancient church of San Basilio.31 Excavations carried out between 1998 and 2000 – in preparation for the Christian Jubilee – revealed a wide rectangular room. Its outside walls were made of Roman brick while the inside ones were made of tuff stones. This is reminiscent of a technique used in Rome in the 13th century. The longitudinal walls presented buttresses, nine on the north-facing wall and three on the south-facing one. In correspondence to the south-facing wall it also became possible to observe the remains of four quadrangular pillars made of Roman bricks, similar to what was observed on the outside of the room. The function of these pillars was most likely to have been supporting an arcade or an annexe building. The internal environment was rhythmically divided by eight transversal arches which supported a wooden roof.32 It is believed that this building corresponded to the hospital connected with the nearby Hospitaller church, a complex that the Order abandoned in 1568 to relocate to the residence on the Aventine Hill. Among the estates belonging to the Aventine Preceptory, there was Santa Maria della Sorresca on Lake Paola, situated in the province of Campania and Marittima, which was granted in emphyteusis to the

28

Gaetano Curzi, “Testimonianze figurative e templari a Roma e nel Lazio meridionale: presenze e assenze”, L’Ordine templare nel Lazio meridionale, pp. 201-246, especially, pp. 207-216. 29 Annibale Ilari, “Vat. Lat. 10372: il Catasto più antico del Gran Priorato Gerosolimitano di Roma (1333)”, Studi Militensi, 2 (1994), pp. 25-54, especially, pp. 25-48. 30 Pistilli, “Due tipologie insediative templari: la domus romana sull’Aventino e il locus fortificato di San Felice Circeo”, p. 172. 31 Nicoletta Bernacchio, “L’Ospedale dei Giovanniti nel Foro di Traiano e l’architettura ospitaliera a Roma nel tardo medioevo”, L’Ordine Templare nel Lazio meridionale, pp. 247-274, especially, pp. 247-254. 32 Bernacchio, “L’Ospedale dei Giovanniti nel Foro di Traiano e l’architettura ospitaliera a Roma nel tardo medioevo”, pp. 248-252.

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Templar Order in the will of Pope Innocent III on 2nd August 1211.33 This settlement, located in the moist peninsula protruding into Lake Paola includes a monastic wing and a church, perpendicular to each other, but with no connecting structures. The church, whose façade faces the lake, is a simple modest building, with a single nave ending in a semicircular apse and covered by a truss roof. The inside is lit through thin windows and at the lower side of the apse, there are the remains of a fresco.34 According to Gaetano Curzi, the drapery and pictorial features, almost always on a light background, are some of the most frequently used features in Templar buildings. For this reason, it seems likely that these decorative elements were added during the Templar occupation of the chapel, between 1211 and 1259.35 The monastic wing is spread over two floors: a ground floor that probably had a defensive function, as is attested by the presence of embrasures, and an upper floor which was probably used as a living area for a small Templar community. It is thought that the upper floor was originally accessed by scaling a retractable wooden ladder from the central court. Throughout the period that the Sorresca was the property of the Templar Roman Preceptory of the Aventine, it represented the most important extra moenia possession and its value increased further when the Order came to possess the Circeo land. This acquisition is noted in the acts of 3rd May 125936 when the Knights Templar gave up (with the exception of a building in Terracina) all its possessions in the Marittima, 33

Ciammaruconi, “L’Ordine Templare nel Lazio meridionale. Analisi di una strategia insediativa”, p. 73; Nadia Bagnarini, “The Knights Templar in the Defence of the Lazio Coast: The Quasi-Islands of Santa Maria della Sorresca on Lake Paola and the Tower of San Felice Circeo (1173-1259)”, Islands and Military Orders c. 1291-c.1798, ed. by Emanuel Buttigieg and Simon Phillips (Farnham: Ashgate, 2013), pp. 177-188. 34 “Like a drapery suspended at regular intervals from a fictitious marble shelf and bordered at the ends by two small red columns; the features outlining the cadence of the drapery and the necessary decorative elements are red as well” (see the follwing footnote). 35 Gaetano Curzi, “Templari, pittura e scultura”, Enciclopedia dell’Arte Medievale, ed. by Angiola Maria Romanini (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 2000), XI, pp. 110-113; Gaetano Curzi, La pittura dei Templari (Cinisello and Balsamo: Silvana Editoriale, 2002), p. 80. 36 Regesta Chartarum. Regesto delle pergamene dell’Archivio Caetani, 6 vol., ed by Gelasio Caetani (Perugia and San Casciano Val de Pesa: Unione Tipografica Cooperativa and Stianti, 1922-1932), I, p. 36 (doc n. 1931) and pp. 37-38 (doc. n. 1931).

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the locum in San Felice and the tenement of Santa Maria della Sorresca to the vice chancellor and papal notary Giordano Pironti. In exchange, the Knights Templar received a casale situm in districtu Urbis in contrata que vocatur Piliocti. The transaction took place at the time of Fra Pietro Fernandi, magister domus militiae Templi in Italia, who was authorised by Fra Tommaso Berardi, generali magistro domus et totius ordinis militie Templi Ultramarinensis suoque conventu. The conditio sine qua non for this transaction was to forego any claim for further compensation in the future.37 The act specifically states that locum Sancti Felicis cum omnibus iuribus et pertinentiis suis et spetialiter cum domibus, turri, that is, the houses as well as the defensive tower, were given to Giordano Pironti. The tower mentioned in the document, attributed by historians to the Templars, is the quadrangular lookout tower located ‘in the inhabited area that dominates from above an artificial terrace dating from the Roman age’ that offered a wide view of the coast below. The geomorphologic constitution of San Felice itself, a peninsula projecting towards the sea, allowed control from above of the wide creek thanks to the lookout tower. This was most likely part of a castle with a quadrangular wall built on the remains of the system of walls of the ancient Circeii.38 The history of the Templar settlements of San Felice and Sorresca came to an abrupt end on 3rd May 1259. The Pontini lands were exchanged for the casale situm in contrada que vocator Piliocti, actually Tor Pagnotta, close to the Via Laurentina. The cession happened consideratis expensis pro eiusdem loci custodiam et conservatione non multum utilitatis afferre esidem domui et ordini militie Templi. The value of the Pontini lands was estimated to be higher than the exchanged property. “Therefore, the high maintenance costs – not yet recovered through the profit from a relatively rapid settlement of the area – played against the keeping of this military strategic castrum, to which the fate of Santa Maria of Sorresca was bound. In fact, the acquisition of the Casale of Piliocti, on the border with another property of Santa Maria in Aventino, offered the opportunity to create a vast estate between the paths of Via Laurentina and Via Ardeatina towards the southern side of Rome”.39 It was not just for these reasons that the Order abandoned the lands in Marittima: the pacification of these border zones following Frederick II’s 37

Pistilli, “Due tipologie insediative templari: la domus romana sull’Aventino e il locus fortificato di San Felice Circeo”, p. 175. 38 Pistilli, “Due tipologie insediative templari: la domus romana sull’Aventino e il locus fortificato di San Felice Circeo”, pp. 177-178. 39 Ciammaruconi, “L’Ordine Templare nel Lazio meridionale. Analisi di una strategia insediativa”, p. 82.

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death made keeping these expensive settlements unnecessary. In addition, the power balance had changed thanks to the Holy See moving from Rome to Viterbo.40 It explains not only the acquisition in the second half of the 13th century by the Knights Templars of the rural villages of Castell’Araldo, San Savino and Burleo in the Tuscia region, but also their relocation to Viterbo. Here they built one of the most interesting residential and defensive buildings that converted the Templar settlement of Santa Maria in Carbonara into the most important Preceptory in Central Italy.41 The Sorreca was not the only farming estate with religious and nonreligious buildings belonging to the Preceptory of Santa Maria in Aventino. The church of San Lorenzo inside the Castel Campanile and the Sant’Erasmo estate near Pomezia are further examples. Located south of Rome, on the slopes of Colli Albani, the Templars owned the estate of San Mignano, together with the church of the same name. It was here, on 10th July 1310 that the Nuncio Giovanni delivered the Inquisition’s notices of court appearance for the Templars. In Palestrina, they owned the church of Sant’Ippolito, most likely originally located close to the city and connected to the nearby Val Ranieri castle, as well as the mill of Vallerano, donated to the church by the master Jacques de Molay, as reported in two papal bulls in 1300 and 1304. Finally, a document dated 20th July 1296 informs us that Boniface VIII granted the Templars a house with an allotment close to the church of Santa Balbina in the city of Anagni. Differently from the others, this last possession was not passed on to the Hospitaller Knights at a later time.42

3. Viterbo and the Viterbese Tuscia On the basis of the examined manuscripts, it seems almost certain that the first Order to settle in the Viterbese Tuscia was the Hospitaller Order. In 1235, Pope Gregory IX issued a bull where he reprimanded the fratres hospitalis SS. Johannis et Victoris for burying a heretic in their cemetery. The hospital was connected to a church dedicated to Saints Johannis and

40 Pistilli, “Due tipologie insediative templari: la domus romana sull’Aventino e il locus fortificato di San Felice Circeo”, p. 179. 41 Nadia Bagnarini, “Santa Maria in Carbonara in Viterbo: history and architecture of a Temple Preceptory in Nothern Lazio”, The Military Orders. Politics and Power. 42 Enzo Valentini, “La presenza Templare nel Lazio”, I Templari nell’Italia centromeridionale. Storia ed architettura, pp. 161-206, especially, pp. 175-176.

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Victoris and corresponded to the actual Commenda, located on the west side of Viterbo on the road to Montefiascone. Aside from farmland, the Hospitallers’ Commenda also included possessions in the Santa Maria del Poggio lands, bordering on Viterbo. This area included allotments and fields in front of the church of Santa Lucia, itself a possession of the Hospitallers Order since the 12th century. It is possible to get an idea of the splendour of the Commenda from a grey ink watercolour by Gaspar Van Wittel (1715), now in the Royal Palace of Caserta. Four elements can be recognised from this painting: first from the right, we can see the arch that was the entry to the settlement, then a second and a third block. This third one corresponded to the tower with battlements that, according to Luttrell, did not have a defensive function. Finally, there was the church.43 The Preceptory of Bagnoregio and the Preceptory of Santa Lucia in Viterbo were also part of the Hospitallers’ Commenda. Santa Lucia in Viterbo, an extra moenia possession of the Commenda, is only mentioned in the iconographic sources dated from the 16th century, where we can observe a small building perpendicular to the church, facing towards the road to Montefiascone. Two further Hospitaller settlements worthy of note can be found on the road to Viterbo: Santa Maria di Forcassi in Vetralla and San Giovanni del Tempio in Sutri. The Vetralla Commandry, which was part of the Commenda of Santa Maria Carbonara in Viterbo, was situated on the Via Francigena and included an allotment by its side, an elongated building with a stable and a house with columns, as well as a church, which was probably the most interesting building of the complex. Its structure dates it from the 9th century. However, the church building itself dates from the 12th century when the property was passed over to the Hospitallers. It consists of a single nave with a presbytery, not completely in line with the main structure, and with a truss roof. The gabled façade has a central window with a barrier made of limestone shaped as a sash forming four semi-circular entangled knots.44 According to the 17th century cabrei (land survey registers), the gabled façade of San Giovanni del Tempio in Sutri had an ocular window. They also document the presence of a building on the right side of the church, probably a hospital where pilgrims were admitted/received, which was also mentioned in various documents from the 14th century. It seems 43

Bagnarini, “Gli ordini religioso-militari a Viterbo: Templari, Ospitalieri e Teutonici. Storia e architettura”, pp. 154-155. 44 Daniele Camilli and Elisabetta Perugi, Santa Maria di Foro Cassio (Vetralla: Davide Ghaleb Editore, 2001).

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likely, indeed, that the main purpose of the Hospitaller settlement was to receive pilgrims going to Rome, and it can also explain why the façade of the church opened directly onto the Via Cassia. Only a few remnants of the small church with a single nave and rectilinear apse have survived. San Giovanni del Tempio was part of the Commenda of Santa Maria in Carbonara, as stated on the plaque on the façade: HAEC ECCLESIA CUM SUIS BONIS PERTINET AD COMMEDAM S.M. CARBONARIA DE VITERBIO S. RELIG. HIEROSOLIMITANAE FRATER OCTAVIUS TANCREDES EQUES HIEROSOLIMITANUS ET COMMENDA POSUIT.

Regarding the Order of the Temple in the Viterbese Tuscia, the examination of legal processes from the years 1309-1310, together with the analysis of documents from the 14th century carried out by Giulio Silvestrelli in 1917, have made it possible to compile a complete list of the possessions of the Order whilst also gaining information about the various settlements.45 On 20th December 1309, the Inquisitors compiled an exhaustive list of the Templar churches where notices of court appearances had to be posted, that is: Sancte Marie de Carbonaria, Sancti Benedicti de Burlegio, Sancte Marie de Castro Araldi, Sancte Sabini prope civitate Tuscanensem, Sancti Mathei prope castrum Corneti, Sancti Iulii prope Civitatem Vetulam, et Sancti Blasii de Vetralla.46

These public notices were meant to be posted on the doors of the churches of Santa Maria in Capita; Bagnoregio diocese, and of Santa Maria di Valentano; in the diocese of Castro. However, the inquisitors forgot to include the church of Santa Maria di Civitavecchia and it was inserted in the abovementioned list only following the personal initiative of the nuncio Johannes Piccardus, who, when he arrived in Civitavecchia 1309 to post the notice on the door of the church of San Giulio on 23rd December, learned that the church of Santa Maria also belonged to the Templar Order.47 45 Giulio Silvestrelli, “Le chiese e i feudi dell’Ordine del Templari e dell’Ordine di San Giovanni di Gerusalemme nella regione romana”, Rendiconti della Reale Accademia dei Lincei, 26 (1917), pp. 499-500 and 521-522. 46 Anne Gilmour Bryson, The Trial of the Templars in the Papal State and Abruzzi (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1982), pp. 89-91. 47 Enzo Valentini, I Templari a Civitavecchia e nel territorio fra Tarquinia e Cerveteri, p. 24.

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The Preceptory of Santa Maria in Carbonara controlled the Templar possessions in the northern area, the zone between the Tuscan border and the Tiber River. It was composed of a church, presumably from the first half of the 12th century, and a monastic wing positioned orthogonally on the right side of the church, with the interpolation of a defensive tower. The domus, without any doubt of Templar construction, was built around the 1250s and originally had two floors. The ground floor was covered by barrel vaulting and the first floor by a terrace, it also had a trap door, still visible on the eastern side. Furthermore, there was a wooden gallery based on brackets all around the convent building, in part still visible. Over the course of the following decades, the domus was provided with a representative façade, now on the third floor level, with a double lancet window. The ones on the western side show considerable decorative elements: a coat of arms (which is illegible today), a double beamed cross, a rose and a figure of a knight. The building of the domus happened in the same period when the diaphragm arches in the church’s interior were constructed, to hold the increased weight of the convent wing after it was raised.48 During the notorious papal inquest of 1373, the commissioners declared that the Burleo Mansion and the connecting church of San Benedetto were to be destroyed, which is why no Knights Hospitallers subsequently resided there.49 Only a few traces close to the Fosso Burleo remain, specifically the ruins of a ‘wall, 5 metres tall and 5.5 metres long’. According to the historian Milioni, this wall belonged to Burleo castle, dating from the 12th to 13th century, about which information is scarce.50 It is mentioned for the first time in 1298 among a list of names of people called out by Rinaldo Malvolti in the Parliament of the Patrimony of Saint Peter in Montefiascone. In this list, the rector of Burleo is mentioned together with the preceptor of Castell’Araldo, the preceptor of San Savino, the prior of the church of San Johannes and San Victoris in Montefiascone and several other priors and abbots.51 1298 is therefore indicated by historians as terminus post quem for the presence of the Templar Order in 48

Bagnarini, L’insediamento templare di Santa Maria in Carbonaria a Viterbo. Dalla facies Medievale alle trasformazioni moderne. Storia ed architettura. 49 Luttrell, “Two Templar-Hospitaller Preceptorie North of Tuscania”, p. 109. 50 Alessandra Milioni, La Carte archeologica d’Italia contributi, Viterbo I (Viterbo: Quatrini A. & F, 2002), pp. 151-152. 51 Paul Fabre, “Un registre caméral du cardinal Albornoz en 1364: documents pour servir à l’histoire du Patrimonoum B. Petri in Tuscia au quatorzième siècle”, Melanges d’archéologie et d’histoire. École Françaide de Rome, 7 (1887), pp. 129-195, especially, p. 182.

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Burleo. However, the study of a register stored in the Vatican Secret Archive notes the presence of the Templars dating back to 1290. From this register, we also learn the name of the preceptor of the time, Johanne de Briscio, from the modern city of Bresso in the province of Milan. The facts leading to Giovanni de Briscio’s arrival in Burleo are still unknown, as are his movements in the Roman Tuscia.52 What is certain is that Burleo, with its tall walls and the connected church dedicated to San Benedetto, on whose doors the nuncio Guilielmoctus posted the cartas sive membranas supradicte citationis continentes edictum, represented a new type of settlement created by the Templars in the area near the papal city of Viterbo. It was a rural settlement exploiting the resources of the territory and with important defensive structures. Furthermore, according to the testimony of the servant Vivolo, it was also a place where charity was given, similar to Sancto Sabino de Tuscanella and Sancto Julio de Civitate Veteri.53 The fortified hamlet of Castell’Araldo was three kilometres from Marta, overlooking the left bank of its eponymous river. In restoration works carried out between 2006 and 2008, it was possible to recover the original medieval image of the small church dedicated to Santa Maria delle Grazie. The restoration also allowed for the recovery of the remains of the tall, thick walls that were part of a defensive structure probably built during the second half of the 15th century. When the Templar Order was suppressed, the papal bull Ad providam Christi Vicari forced the passage of the castle and of the church to the Hospitaller Order, even though they actually only received them in the following century. It is hard to postulate how the settlement may have appeared in medieval times, as only the church can be dated with certainty to the Middle Ages. Indeed, the church shows clear architectural features typical of the 13th century, such as the single nave ending, leading to an apse covered by a roof truss. These features are also recognisable in other churches of the Templar Order, like Santa Maria Carbonara in Viterbo and San Giustino a Pilonico Paterno near Perugia.54 On the right bank of the river Marta, where Castel Bronco stands today, between Marta and Tuscania and probably close to the consular

52

Bagnarini, “I Templari nella Tuscia viterbese: vecchie considerazioni e nuove prospettive di ricerca. Storia ed architettura”. 53 Valentini, I Templari a Civitavecchia e nel territorio fra Tarquinia e Cerveteri, p. 65. 54 Francesco Tommasi, “L’Ordine dei Templari a Perugia”, Bollettino della Deputazione di Storia Patria per l’Umbria, 78 (1981), pp. 5-79.

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road Via Clodia,55 we find a few remains of the abbey and castle of San Savino, covered by a thick layer of vegetation. As in the above instances, in this case it is the participation of the Preceptor Sancti Savini in the Parliament called in Montefiascone by Rinaldo Malvolti in 1298 that is used as the terminus post quem to establish San Savino as having belonged to the Templar Order. An earlier document, from 1265, mentions the San Savino castle as part of the municipality of Tuscania, and there is no explicit reference to the Templar Order, reinforcing the notion that the castle was only later passed to the Templars. We know for sure that in 1310 it was still in Templar possession, since that is when Vivolo de villa Sancti Justini, during the process against the Templars, declared to have seen charity being given in San Savino. He also added that he did not know any of the secrets of his Order, since he was just a frater serviens. In a document from 1373, the church appears annexed to the church of San Leonardo of Tuscania, together with the church of Sant’Antonio, even though they sunt destructe.56 Unfortunately, regarding the church of San Matteo in Corneto, there are no traces left other than in the modern toponymy and in some topographic maps from the end of the 18th century. From these sources, it is possible to recognise the remains of a tower, a trough and a ditch dedicated to San Matteo. Once again, the ownership of this settlement by the Templar Order is documented in the inquisitorial processes where it can be read that on 23rd December 1309, after performing his functions in the nearby Civitavecchia, the nuncio Johannes Piccardus went to Corneto to post the notice of court appearances as ordered by the inquisitors in hostiis ecclesie Sancti Mathei de Corneto dicti ordinis.57 The church appears among the possessions of the Commenda of San Giovanni in Corneto in a manuscript dated from 137358 stored in the National Library in Paris, where it is also specified that it was fere destructa.59 The church was strategically located close to the Via Aurelia, three kilometres northwest of the port of Corneto, on a route highly frequented by wayfarers and merchants, and therefore benefiting from the economic and financial wealth deriving from it.60 55

Marta Giacobelli, Via Clodia (Rome: Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello StatoLibreria dello Stato, 1991). 56 BNF, Ms. Lat. 5155, a. 1373, f. 50r. 57 Bryson, The Trial of the Templars in the Papal State and Abruzzi, p. 94. 58 BNF, Ms. Lat. 5155, a. 1373. 59 BNF, Ms. Lat. 5155, f. 48v. 60 AOM, Valletta, Arch. 5629, Visita di miglioramento fatta nella Commenda di San Gio. Battista Gerosolimitana di Corneto, anno 1658.

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Not too far from Corneto, about 700 metres north-west of the Taurine hot springs and on the road that today connects Civitavecchia to Tolfa, was the Templar settlement of San Giulio. Only the remains of a tower from the original settlement survive; built first with a defensive function, used as a bell tower later, it emerged from the middle of a plain.61 It is again from a declaration of the servant Vivolo de Villa Sancti Justini that we learn that the church of San Giulio, also indicated as Titulus of Sant’Egidio and San Giovanni alle Terme, belonged to the Templar Order. Vivolo mentioned San Giulio among the Templar Preceptories where he offered his services, adding that charity donations and offerings of food and hospitality to the poor used to take place there: Sancto Julio de Civitate Veteri, [...] in qua dabantur elemosine pauperibus ad hostium et caban comedere tribus pauperibus omni die; et vidit etiam plures pauperes hospitari in locis dicti ordinis et iacere.62

It seems plausible that the poor were received in the building adjoining the church, the remains of which were found and then reburied during excavations carried out in 1940. These remains were described by Sebastiano Bastianelli in his booklets,63 although he mistakenly thought they were part of the church. The church, a building with a single nave and semicircular apse lit by small single lancet windows, was connected to a beautiful bell tower. The latter is the only feature that has survived. The magnificent à damier decorations of the string course defining the limit between second and third floors, four small arches on the corbel and corner pilasters built-in to each façade, make this tower a jewel of Medieval architecture. The beautiful decoration is considered a sign of refined attention to aesthetics of indirect Islamic derivation. However, some details are evocative of Normandy, through the architecture of western France.64 The loopholes on the three still standing walls show that the tower originally had a defensive or at least lookout function. It is clear that the à damier decoration reveals a French influence in the style. However, elements such as the strong similarity with the bell tower 61

Valentini, I Templari a Civitavecchia e nel territorio fra Tarquinia e Cerveteri, pp. 29-49. 62 Bryson, The Trial of the Templars in the Papal State and Abruzzi, pp. 220-221. 63 Salvatore Bastianelli, “Primo libretto”, Appunti di Campagna, ed. by Salvatore Bastianelli (Rome: Associazione archeologica Centumcellae, 1988), p. 19 and 5354. 64 Francesco Correnti, Chome lo papa vole. Note per una rilettura critica della storia urbanistica di Civitavecchia (Civitavecchia: Cassa di Risparmio di Civitavecchia, 2005), p. 198.

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of the church of San Giulio, as well as the use of macco, a white-yellow sandy limestone bound together with abundant mortar, suggest the involvement of local expertise. The church of San Giulio was not the only Templar church in the area of Civitavecchia, since the Order also owned the church of Santa Maria as an intra moenia possession. After learning that it belonged to the Templar Order, the nuncio Johannes Piccardus posted the public notice on 23rd December 1309 on the door of this church.65 Nothing remains of the church and the cloister owing to bombing in 1944 that completely erased any medieval monuments in Civitavecchia. Fortunately, a rich iconographic documentation dating from before 1944, together with some photos taken a few days after the bombing, allowed a partial reconstruction of the architectural appearance of Santa Maria. This was also helped by the descriptions of the church left by Monsignor Vincenzo Annovazzi66 and the Dominican priest Jean Baptiste Labat.67 The latter, responsible for commissioning a new façade in the 18th century, described the church as very old. The church of Santa Maria shows all the features that are typical of buildings used by the Templars, such as the single nave, the roof truss, the apse touching the city walls, its location close to a port as well as the presence of a flight of steps directly linking it to the dock. Despite this, it seems likely that the building of the church preceded the arrival of the Templars and that the cloister was a later addition of the Dominican Fathers who settled in this area in the early 15th century. In addition, as pointed out by Enzo Valentini, the fact that this church was subject to the payment of a decima in 1274-1280, a tax from which the Templar Order was exempted, supports the notion that the Templars acquired this settlement later.68 The church of San Biagio in Vetralla is another building that was completely destroyed by bombing in 1944. It is therefore hard to precisely locate its original position. Pio Francesco Pistilli identifies the church as

65

Bryson, The Trial of the Templars in the Papal State and Abruzzi, p. 94. Vincenzo Annovazzi, Storia di Civitavecchia, dalla sua origine fino all’anno 1848 (Rome: Tipografia Ferretti, 1853; repr. Sala Bolognese: A. Forni, 1977), p. 249. 67 Civitavecchia del Settecento nelle memorie del Padre Labat, ed. by Francesco Correnti and Giovanni Insolera (Civitavecchia: CDU, 1990), p. 47. 68 Valentini, I Templari a Civitavecchia e nel territorio fra Tarquinia e Cerveteri, p. 28. 66

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part of the extra moenia settlement of Santa Maria in Foracassi.69 However, this seems unlikely, since in a manuscript kept in the Ardenti Library in Viterbo, Luca Ceccotti listed San Biagio amongst the districts inside the Castle of Vetralla in 1348, thereby locating it inside the city walls.70 Corresponding to the modern hamlet of Villa delle Fontane, outside the inhabited centre, in an isolated but panoramic location on Lake Bolsena was the complex of Santa Maria del Tempio in Valentano.71 The settlement was composed of two inter-connected buildings: the church and the monastic building. The oratory, also known as Santa Maria de Nempe, is completely neglected, with a broken roof and windows and with an opening in the apse made more recently. The inner side is articulated in a single nave, originally leading to a semicircular apse and with a passage open on the left side, now walled-up, that was used to access the long rectangular monastic building directly. The building is dated from the 15th century, although it was built on top of the earlier medieval monastic wing, parallel to but slightly misaligned from the oratory. The monastic wing, whose main entrance was located close to the corner connecting it to the church, is arranged on two floors. A modern staircase allows access to the upper floor that is lit by two windows. The 15th century style of one of the windows is identical to the one present on the gabled façade of the church. When the Templar Order was suppressed in 1312, this Templar settlement passed to the Commenda of San Magno di Gradoli that kept it till 1787.72 At the time of the passage, this Commenda already owned the oratory of San Martino in the nearby borough of Valentano. When the Templar Order was dismantled, the domus of Santa Maria in Capita in the Bagnorea area also passed to the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem. This Preceptory was located close to the consular Via Cassia, precisely on the provincial road called Pratoleva. In the Vatican Secret Archive, there is a precious register that represents the oldest documentation

69

Pistilli, “Due tipologie insediative templari: la domus romana sull’Aventino e il locus fortificato di San Felice Circeo”, p. 158. 70 BAV, II. E.5.2, Luca Ceccotti, Contrade e Vocaboli Antichi del Territorio e di alcuni tenimenti vicini desunti dalle Carte degli Archivi Viterbesi, non-numbered f. 71 Nadia Bagnarini, “La precettoria templare di Santa Maria di Valentano; un esempio di insediamento fortificato nella Tuscia Viterbese”, XXXI Convegno di Ricerche Templari (Tuscania: Edizioni Penne e Papiri, 2014), pp. 155-170. 72 AOM, Cabrei 80 (1612), 83 (1625), 237 (1650), 81 (1759), 84 (1773), 82 (1787).

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of the ownership of this Preceptory by the Templar Order.73 Here, we can read that: ad manus Bonsignoris de Senis Thesaurarium Romane Ecclesie in patrimonio tempore magnifici viri domini Gugliemii Cibo civis januensi patrimoni Sancti Petri in Tuscia capitanis generalis sub anno sibi millesimo CCLXXXX diebus et mensibus infrascriptis [...] Pro censu viginta libras paparinorum XXIII, die intrante december a facere lemosina domus Sancte Marie in Capita domus Templariorum pro porco quem dicta domus debet omni annum curie in festo nativitatis Domini.

It is also interesting to note the declaration that the servant Vivolo of Villa di San Giustino released on 30th June 1310 after being interrogated in the bishop’s palace at Viterbo. He stated that in Santa Maria in Capita in the Preceptory of Bagnorea he fecit et fieri vidit elemosinas in dicto ordine, silicet in Santa Maria in Capita Balneoregensis dyocesis et plures pauperes hospitari et iacere. Vivolo also added that he was unaware if other Templar settlements carried out the same activities: sed utum fierent elemosine ut debebant et hospitalitas servaretur ignorat.74 The words of the servant from Perugia attribute a hospital tradition to the Domus, also confirmed by the facere elemosinam mentioned in the register from the Vatican Secret Archive, but the traditional historiography of the Templar Order has not considered this as part of the everyday life of the Templar settlements.75 The charitable activities of the Order have been hypothesised only for the settlement in the Bagnorea area, since, thanks to its location close to the Via Francigena, it was on a route for pilgrims and wayfarers. The code of the Order in fact allowed the Templars to give food and clothing to the poor.76 It seems likely that, in the case of Santa Maria in Capita, the poor were received in the domus, whose ruins are part of a structure running parallel to the church. The church, with the typical single 73

Bagnarini, “I Templari nella Tuscia. Nuove acquisizioni da un registro dell’Archivio Segreto Vaticano”. 74 Bryson, The Trial of the Templars in the Papal State and Abruzzi, pp. 220-221. 75 Helen Nicholson, “Relations between House of the Order of the Temple in Britain and their Local Communities, as Indicated during the Trial of the Templars, 1307-12”, Knighthoods of Christ. Essay on the History of the Crusades and the Knights Templar. Presented to Malcolm Barber (Hampshire: Ashagate, 2007), pp. 195-207; Alan John Forey, “The Charitateble Activities of the Templars”, Viator, 34 (2003), pp. 109-141; Malcom Barber, “The Charitable and Medical Activities of the Hospitallers and Templars”, A History of Pastoral Care (London and New York: Cassell, 2000), pp. 148-168. 76 La Regle du Temple, ed. by Henry De Curzon (Paris: Librairie Renouard, 1886), sections 19, 29, 62, 65, 94, 97, 129, 153, 188, 189, 199, 370 and 371.

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nave, wooden roof truss and straight choir, went through several phases of reconstruction between the 12th and 18th centuries. Two small, fine and high apses, surrounded by a couple of small arches on Lombard pilasters, as well as part of the masonry near the pilasters and the angle stone on the hut façade represent its oldest side. On the basis of the integrity and visibility of the keystone, the presence of the powerful semi-pillar (partition-arch) slightly flexed on the top leaning against the end wall, the bell tower made of bricks and clear indication of more recent restoration works, it can be deduced that the original orientation of the church was where the present-day entrance is. The partition-arch placed on the same wall of the choir is indicative of a greater longitudinal development of the church, a part of which was incorporated in what is presently used as a shed. However, it is important to note that the partition-arch was first used by Mendicant orders in Italy only from the second half of the 13th century, suggesting that it was the result of a later extension. Around that same time, other alterations were performed: the church was banked and small lateral apses became hanging after the changes, below them, moulded cornices like the ones on the external side. With regard to the monastic wing, it now appears as a long rectangle on two floors, ending on the east side with a taller structure and including a storage room on the ground floor and two residential areas. Inside the domus, it is possible to see traces of an opening of a narrow passage connecting the east side of the storage room with the central area of the building. It seems possible that this side of the building, rectangular and over two floors, was built on the arrival of the Templars during the 13th century. In the 15th century, the original residential wing was enlarged by the addition of two new areas: an eastern one, corresponding to the present building on three floors, and a western one that was connected to the original building at a later stage. This latter work can be dated from the 12th century, on the basis of a piece of masonry work that was used below the walled-up single lancet window77, similar to those observed in the apses of churches from that time.

4. The Teutonic Order in Tuscia A separate chapter has to be dedicated to the Ordo fratrum domus hospitalis Sanctae Mariae Teutonicorum in Jerusalem created between 1198 and 1199 as a derivation from a hospital that Germanic pilgrims and 77 Giuliano Romalli, “La Magione di Bagnoregio”, L’Ordine Templare nel Lazio meridionale, pp. 295-351.

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crusaders founded in Acre in 1191. The establishment of this order in Italy at the end of the 12th century started with the acquisition of lands in Puglia and Sicily with the purpose of offering help and assistance to the pilgrims and crusaders travelling to the Holy Land. Thanks to their enterprising spirit, the knights managed to integrate themselves into the local community and it resulted in the creation of massive economic and patrimonial wealth from all over the peninsula. They constituted four provinces or baliati: the province of An der Etsch, or the baliato of Bolzano; the province of Lombardy; the baliato of Puglia and that of Sicily. In addition, the attorney of the order in the apostolic see also owned lands in Rome, Montefiascone, Orvieto and Viterbo.78 In Montefiascone the Order owned one of the most profitable taverns, La locanda delle Chiavi, so called because of the coat of arms above the entrance, according to the historian Luigi Peri Buti. Kurt Forstreuter, the first historian to attempt to list the possessions of the Order in Central Italy, suggested that the presence of the order in Viterbo, Montefiascone and Orvieto could be connected to the sojourn of the papal curia in those cities.79 The domus in Viterbo gained particular importance as an administrative centre after the curia moved to France at the beginning of the 14th century. In 1277, Robertus de Argentio, a citizen of Viterbo, donated un palatium et omnes domos suas positas in Civitate Viterbiensi, in castro Sancti Petri, iuxta ecclesia Sancti Petri loci eiusdem to the Order. We learn of this event from a document included in the Liber Quatuor Clavium of the city of Viterbo. In this document, a charta donationis between the abovementioned Roberto and the attorney of the Order Hermannus; the latter agreed not to transfer any of the received possessions, that is, a palace and some domus inside the walls of Viterbo and the private hospital situated in the place today occupied by the Porta Fiorentina.80 The Order also acquired the church of Santa Maria di Monterazzano, possibly from the Augustinians, on 24th June 1290. No traces are left of the original settlement, since the tower with the circular base still visible on top of the hill most likely dates from the 15th century. The tower is situated seven kilometres west of Viterbo, on a 301 metre high hill, reachable from one of the many paths departing from the Via Cassia. Since it is not 78 Bagnarini, “Gli ordini religioso-militari a Viterbo: Templari, Ospitalieri e Teutonici. Storia e architettura”, p. 149. 79 Forstreuter, Der Deutsche Orden am Mittelmeer, pp. 163-164. 80 Bagnarini, “Gli ordini religioso-militari a Viterbo: Templari, Ospitalieri e Teutonici. Storia e architettura”, p. 162.

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possible to visit the interior of the tower, the description given by Pio Semeria, a Dominican father, in a precious manuscript from 1809-1831 kept in the Ardenti Library in Viterbo, is very useful: e’ rotunda ed esce e sorge, come da uno stuccio, ch’é uno sperone, che la circonda, antico quanto la torre. Il diametro interno della torre è di palmi 22, il muro vicino alla base, ha 7 palmi di grossezza. L’altezza della torre è di palmi 60 di circa, è divisa in tre piani: ma di quello di mezzo era un tavolato: mentre il primo ed il terzo sono a volta. Per qual oggetto fu mai costruita questa torre? 81

To the present day, it is still not clear which castle Semeria is referring to.

5. Rieti A paucity of documents has made it impossible to confirm the presence of the Templars in this area. Nevertheless, the fact that several documents report the presence of Templar Knights in the city, specifically as papal dignitaries, makes the existence of at least a modest settlement plausible. The first mention of a Templar Knight is by Fra Alberto de Militia Templi, who was present at the preparation of a will on 20th August 1236, as a supercocus. This man could possibly be identified as Alberto Lombardo, the great preceptor of Italy. Another Templar presence was that of the great preceptor of Italy, Uguccione da Vercelli. According to Guglielmo de Verduno and Gerardo da Piacenza, Uguccione died in Rieti and was later interred in Santa Maria in Capita, in the Bagnorea area. Fra Nicola da Trevi is another Templar knight associated with Rieti. In July 1298, magistro Nicolao de Trebis domini pape camerari is mentioned in the document reporting the drawing up of the contract at the Castle of Miranda (situated between Terni and Rieti), where the owners renounced all the rights to the castle. Even though this document does not explicitly mention the qualification of Nicolao, his belonging to the Templar Order

81 “It is round and comes out and stands such as from a box, which surrounds it, as old as the tower. The inner diameter of the tower is of 22 palms, the wall near the base has 7 palms of thickness. The height of the tower is around 60 palms. It is divided into three levels, but the middle one was a plank, while the first and the third are vaulted. For what purpose was it ever built this tower?” (Bagnarini, “Gli ordini religioso-militari a Viterbo: Templari, Ospitalieri e Teutonici. Storia e architettura”, p. 165).

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is mentioned in similar documents, where the qualification of papal chamberlain is reported, together with that of Ordinis militie Templi.82

Conclusions As indicated in the premise, this is too brief an essay to allow for an exhaustive discussion of such a wide and complex topic. What clearly emerges, however, is that it is not possible to talk of a Templar and Hospitaller architectural tradition because to the present day there is no document that explicitly refers to technical expertise developed inside the Orders. Instead, it seems plausible that the Orders used the local workforce, who introduced stylistic features into the Templars’ settlements that were typical of the local architecture, either by creating ex novo or by restoring manufactured structures at the time of the Templar Order’s presence. It is also certain that there was no settlement with a defensive function in Lazio. This was because their roles there were only to produce a surplus to send to the Holy Land and to receive the representatives of the Holy See in their domus.

82

Valentini, “La presenza templare nel Lazio”, pp. 162-263.

SAINT LOUIS AND LLULL’S “PLAN” FOR THE CRUSADE IN THE WESTERN MEDITERRANEAN: MODO BELLANDI ET MODO CONVERTENDI

JOSÉ HIGUERA RUBIO UNIVERSIDAD COMPLUTENSE DE MADRID

Esdevench-se .i. jorn que.l apostoli ach tramés un cavaller preverequi era del ordre de sciencia cavalleria a .i. rey serray. Aquel per força d’armes vençé .x. cavallers, la .i. aprés l’altre per diverses diez, e enaprés vençé per rahons tots los savis de sa terra e a tots prová la santa fe católica esser vera. D’aquests benauyrats misages e de molts d’altres inluminava lo mon l’ordenament delmunt dit que.l sant pare havia stablit.1

Ordinatio (in Catalan ordonament) is a legal and political term with a profound theological meaning.2 For Ramon Llull, it was the means to 1

“Once upon a time the Pope sent an ecclesiastical knight, from the chivalry and science order, to a Muslim king, and with his weapons the knight defeated ten Muslim knights, one by one on different days; and then, with his reasoning, he defeated all the wise men in the region, thus clearly proving the truth of the Catholic faith. Thanks to this blessed messenger and others like him the ordination (ordinatio) illuminated the world, as had been established by the Holy Father”. (Ramon Llull, Romanç d’Evast e Blanquerna, ed. by Albert Soler and Joan Santanach (Palma de Mallorca: Patronat Ramon Llull, 2009), p. 358). 2 The ordonament comes from the theological act of creation, which establishes a hierarchical order in society and politics; for example the act of preaching has the same condition: “Similarly, the Liber de praedicatione explains how the preacher must be ordered (ordinatus) through good behaviour and saintly living. Taken together, Llull’s recommendations seek to render discourse ‘orderly’ in the widest sense of the word. This comprehensive view of order implies his larger ideal of communication as a relationship of ordinatio in the Anselmian sense of a creature’s disposition to fulfill its moral finality” (Mark D. Johnston, The Evangelical Rhetoric of Ramon Llull (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), p. 118).

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carry out a project of passagium generale,3 or crusade. Ordinatio means a set of rational rules that should be used in the crusade, applied to a military plan (modo bellandi) and to religious conversion (modo convertendi). This is a topic that has not yet been treated in depth because of the delicate implications included in the Christian medieval idea of ius bellum4 in opposition to the attractive multiculturalism underlying the dialogue which Llullian art proposed to the wise men trained in their religious and philosophical traditions. Specialists in this matter are surprised by the “severity”, but also by the mastery, of the treatises in which Ramon Llull exposes the military ordinatio of passagium generale, especially as, thanks to the studies of war and violence during the Middle Ages, we now understand the difficulty and terrible pain involved in those military expeditions of medieval Christianity. In some cases, this “traumatic” matter is diluted in a brief statement: Ramon Llull expressed a concept that was prevalent in the mood of his time, or simply intended to reflect the ideology which prevailed in his political environment, the dream of conversion or the rhetoric of recuperatio. Compared to this polite means of avoiding the matter’s complications, Josep Perarnau5 has presented some issues on the legal aspects of these military incursions, since those actions generated political and territorial changes justified by a legal order which extended beyond preaching and theological dialogue. Hence, those aspects appear in Llull, whose great 3 N’ermitá, es encara altre ‘ordonament’ Ϫ Qui será al ‘passatje’ molt gran enantiment, Ϫ A destruir l’error hon está mante gente; Ϫ Que lo papa faés que á son unimentϪ Venguessos cismátichs, per gran disputamentϪ Del qual bon disputar havem fayt tractament: Ϫ E ‘ls cismátichs cobrats, qui son mant hòm vivent, Ϫ No es hom qui pogués contrastar malamentϪ A l’esgleya, per ferre ne per nuyl argument; Ϫ Et del Temple é Espital fós fét un uniment, Ϫ Et que lur major fós ‘Rey del sanct moniment’; Ϫ Perque á honrar Deus no say tal tractament (Ramon Llull, Obras rimadas, ed. by Gerónimo Roselló (Palma de Mallorca: Gelabert, 1859), p. 352); This plan was an urgent condition, in Llull’s words: Si autem ista ‘ordinatio’ praesens in breui tempore non fiat uel alia, quam fecimus hic infra, quae magis generalis est quam ista, timendum est, quod Tartari uel Saraceni acquirant Graecos, et tunc erunt uicini, quod absit Latinis, quia magnum periculum esset (Ramon Llull, Quomodo terra sancta recuperari potest, ed. by Fernando Dominguez (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003), p. 331). 4 Jill N. Claster, Sacred Violence: The European Crusades to the Middle East, 1095-1396 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009), pp. 309 and following. 5 Josep Perarnau, “Certeses, hipòtesis i preguntes entorn el tema ‘conversió i croada’ en Ramon Llull. ‘Croada militar’ o ‘croada gramatical’?”, Arxiu de textos catalans antics, 25 (2006), p. 484.

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assumption is the “transient coexistence” of representatives of different religions who, individually, exchanged the controversial aspects of their traditions through dialogue. From another perspective, those traditions represented powerful territorial interests that were destined to cause altercation. So, those representatives had to decide in their own innermost being whether to abandon the religion they had been educated in, or to agree on a transitional order of political loyalty, favouring trade and financial and cultural exchange.6 This paper wishes to offer a new perspective on this complicated issue. Political and military references were a “strategic model” of passagium generale in Ramon Llull’s works. That model sought the military defeat of the Muslims in the Holy Land, the Iberian Peninsula and the Maghreb, and envisaged their conversion, and also that of the Jews, through the divided arms of Christendom. That aim of conversion even touched an emergent people in the fight for the Eastern Mediterranean: the Mongols.7 My hypothesis is that this strategic model –ordinatio in the words of Ramon Llull– was executed largely, and with all its consequences, by King –later Saint– Louis IX of France (according to chronicles of the Gesta ludovici).8 The characteristics of the ordinatio in Llull’s works appear in the two “pilgrimages” made by Saint Louis, the first in 1248 and the second ending with his death in 1270. These pilgrimages introduced, on the one hand, remarkable new military planning, and on the other, the intention of making political treaties that would guarantee Christian preaching in the infidel-occupied territories, as well as a certain religious tolerance for new converts. In relation to this second aspect, Louis IX facilitated a debate between representatives of the Holy Office, assisted by a Jewish convert, and the rabbis of Paris in 1240. The Parisian debate was of compulsory attendance for rabbis, and they were forced to answer the arguments proposed by Odo of Chateauroux (later to be the Pontifical Legate on the expedition to Egypt in 1248). This debate was followed by the preaching of Christian doctrine in the synagogues, on the orders of the King. The attendance at these preaching sessions was compulsory for the Jewish

6

Charles E. Dufourcq, L'Espagne catalane et le Maghrib aux XIIIe et XIVe siècles (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1966), pp. 104-117. 7 Jordi Gayà, “Ramon Llull en Oriente (1301-1302); circunstancias de un viaje”, Studia Lulliana, 37 (1997), pp. 25-78. 8 Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, ed. by Martin Bouquet et alii (Paris: Palmé, 1738-1904), XX.

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community, and it was also obligatory for them to respond to the line of argument they heard “in all honesty”.9 Louis IX was also significant in the military order for the following reasons: i) he renewed the logistic strategy for the armies which travelled to the East; ii) he opened a new route to the Holy Land in 1270, setting off from Tunisia; iii) he brought about political pacts in the Middle East and sought the conversion of the Khan of Persia; iv) his deeds were recorded in chronicles that quickly integrated his actions with the ideal of the Christian Knight between 1273-1305 (just when Llull’s work was in full production).10 The chronicles described his military achievements, as well as his aim of promoting the conversion of the infidel. Nevertheless, historians do not agree on the missionary goals of Louis IX’s expeditions. Regarding this aim, Le Goff says that it cannot be attributed to the peregrinations of Louis IX, since he belonged to a defined echelon of nobility which knew how to achieve salvation, forgiveness for their sins, and how to obtain the category of Christian Knight. Military struggle and obedience to the Pontifical mandate of the crusade were blended into the same task, so it was not necessary to seek the religious conversion of the people they fought. Whatever the case, this was a task for the mendicant orders that accompanied Louis on his expeditions. However, it seems that this was not the only reason for Louis’s pilgrimages. Some indications of his intention of approaching the infidels appear in the chronicles. Ceremonies are described representing the conversion of Jews before their military forays;11 Louis sent an ecclesiastical delegation from Cyprus to the Khan of Persia, and maintained a fluid exchange of ambassadors and correspondence with him; his aims are also clear in the chronicles of the attitude towards dialogue that he assumed during his captivity in Egypt.12 These interests are due to another type of education in the vernacular for lay people who did not understand Latin. As Ruedi Imbach has shown, that form of education emerged among nobles, knights and merchants during the 13th century independently of universities and religious orders. 9

Michael Lower, “Conversion and St Louis’s Last Crusade”, The Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 58 (2007), pp. 211-223. 10 Jacques Le Goff, Saint Louis (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2009), mendicant hagiographers, pp. 252-265; foreign chronicles, pp. 341-365; Vie de Saint Louis. Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, pp. 376-398. 11 In festo beati Dionysii Rex facetret quemdam Judaeum famosum in ipsa ecclesia dicti beati Dionysii solemniter baptizari (Gaufrido de Belloloco, Vita sancti ludovici noni. Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, p. 22). 12 Jean of Joinville, Vie de Saint Louis. Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, p. 211.

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De eruditione principum, for example, proposed an alternative to education in the service of clerical life, and described the practical and moral judgment that the heirs of a Kingdom should cultivate.13 These treatises were followed by editions of encyclopaedias in the vernacular, as well as a consolidated literary production. The heroic deeds of Louis IX and the nobles who accompanied him, and the propaganda about the crusades, were topics for troubadours such as Rutebeuf, who described the French King in the poem Passage to Tunisia as an “evangelist, apostle, martyr and confessor”.14 These verses express how the nobles of the second half of the 13th century sought not only military goals, but also the virtue of martyrdom as evangelisers or apostles, as Ramon Llull describes in his works. The French nobles may well have been aware of the importance of the intellectual debate between faiths to achieve the conversion of the infidels. The chronicles described a captive King (Louis IX) willing to discuss the truth of Christianity with his jailers and non-Christian soldiers in prison.15 I will now try to show what there is in common in the Llullian ordinatio of passagium generale and the events of the chronicles of the two expeditions of Louis IX. First, I deal with the logistical planning of the military expedition, or modo bellandi, according to the Llull texts, Liber de passagio (1292) and Liber de fine (1305). Then I turn to the modo convertendi, as some of Llull’s texts do not in fact promote the crusade, but try to demonstrate that the requirement to convert and evangelise is a duty that all have received from the authority of Scripture. In the Doctrina pueril, Llull quotes John 21.15: Our Lord Jesus Christ gave Saint Peter a three-fold command to “Tend my sheep”.16 The “divine command” marked by the biblical authority established the conversion of the “errant people” (errats) or infidels as a priority in the ordinatio of the passagium. Ordinatio here has a legal meaning, since it 13 Ruedi Imbach, Dante, la philosophie et les laïcs: initiations à la philosophie médiévale (Paris: Éditions du CERF, 1996), pp. 52-55. 14 Évangelistre, apostre, martyr et confesseur/ Por Jhésu-Crit soffrient de la mort le presseur from the poem Li diz de la voie de Tunez (Rutbeuf, Oeuvres completes de Rutbeuf, ed. A. Juvenal (Paris: Paul Daffis, 1874), I, p. 161). 15 Monachos Dionysii, Gesta sancti ludovici noni, Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, p. 55. 16 Nostro señor Deus Jesuchrist a sent Pere con li dix e.l pregá .III. vegades que pasques les sues oveles (Ramon Llull, Doctrina pueril (Palma de Mallorca: Patronat Ramon Llull, 2005), p. 222); Jeschrist dix en l’Avangeli con dix a sent Pere .iii. vegades qe si li havia amor donás a menjar ses ovelles? (Ramon Llull, Romanç d’Evast e Blanquerna, p. 213).

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comes from the medieval conception of natural law. In this way, as Perarnau says, the Imitation of the Apostles shows that Ramon Llull’s intentions were pacific and not, by definition, supported by secular arms. Therefore, I will try, as far as possible, to establish a certain distance between military planning and the modo convertendi, by way of appeasing the controversy about the importance of intellectual persuasion to achieve the conversion of unbelievers. The discrepancy about the via rationis argument is reflected in the Disputation of Paris of 1240, in which the Latin testimony shows us, on the one hand, the obligation of discussion, but also a prejudiced vision of non-Christian texts and religious practices.17 Sometimes, even Llull echoes these prejudiced interpretations. In spite of this, it is possible to observe the intention of following the ordinatio of the passagium in the incursions of Louis IX and Ramon Llull in North Africa, following the intellectual and spiritual procedures which seek conversion with a controversial background: the legitimacy of the use of force.

1. Modo bellandi Llull’s Tractatus de modo convertendi infideles, a second treatise of Liber de passagio,18 is called De arte bellandi per mare et terras in some manuscripts. The name is adopted from the French version of the book. Although it was not innovative for its age, Louis IX planned expeditions by land for cavalry and infantry; troops were transported by purpose-built ships. Joinville was surprised by the way the horses disappeared into the holds of the ships,19 and also by the separation between the ships carrying the ammunition for the campaign and the troop-transports. The number of troops Luis IX is estimated to have managed to transport to Cyprus in 1248 is 20,000 men and 8,000 horses.20 It is not then surprising that the size of this venture was a model of learning for the Llullian ordinatio of the passagium generale to the Holy Land. 17 Isidore Loeb, “La Controverse de 1240 sur le Talmud”, Revue des Etudes juives, 1 (1880), pp. 247-261; 2 (1881), pp. 248-270; 3 (1881), pp. 39-57. 18 This work has two treatises: Ramon Llull, Quomodo terra sancta recuperari potest, a letter to the Pope Nicolas IV; and Tractatus de modo convertendi infideles, ed. by Fernando Dominguez (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003), pp. 255-353. 19 This kind of ship was called huissier: spécialment créés pour l’embarquement et le débarquement rapide des cheveaux sure les côtes ennemies (René Bastard, “Navires méditerranéens du temps de Saint Louis”, Revue d’histoire économique et sociale, 50 (1972), p. 353). 20 Le Goff, Saint Louis, pp. 163-185.

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1. 1. Per mare Louis IX decided to build a port from which to set off on his expeditions, a place which allowed him to escape the taxes of Marseille and Messina, and avoid his differences with the Catalan-Aragonese Kingdom. This port was named Aigues-mortes21 and the ships that the Genoese built for the French King’s expeditions were delivered there with some delay. The port is considered the most ambitious military construction of the Middle Ages; it surpassed even the Christian strongholds in Palestine. The voyage to the East made a short stopover in Sicily to pick up grain, and arrived in Cyprus in 1248;22 this was its base for an incursion into Egypt. That route was not unusual, and Ramon Llull speaks of it (1301-1302) and states that he intended to visit the Sultan of Egypt and attempt an incursion against the Khan of Persia.23 However, he finally said that this route was too long and expensive and rejected it. Much the same occurred with the Rosetta route, and Llull warned of its inconvenience.24 These warnings show Llull’s great knowledge of the cost and difficulties of Louis IX’s expeditions, but in De recuperatione, he says that Armenia was a good place to locate the headquarters of the crusade.25 Another part of the Llullian ordinatio is the trade blockade of the North African and Egyptian ports, a strategy that Ramon Llull includes as a condition for the success of his planned crusade.26 This idea is not new 21

Jean Combes, “Origine et passé d'Aigues-Mortes”, Revue d’histoire économique et sociale, 50 (1972), pp. 304-326. 22 Christiani habent insulas maris, et fortiores quam Saraceni in mari (Quomodo terra sancta recuperari potest, p. 336); Tertius locus est per mare ire uersus Chipre in Herminiam (Ramon Llull, De fine, ed. A. Madre (Turnhout: Brepols, 1981), p. 276). 23 [...] ad fidem catholicam Tartari leuiter acquiri possunt, quia sine lege existunt (Ramon Llull, De recuperatione terrae sanctae, p. 329); Ego uero fui in partibus ultramarinis, et audiui, quod Cassanus, imperator Tartarorum, pluries dicebat, quod uolebat de fide christianorum esse certus (Ramon Llull, De fine, p. 267; Ramon Llull, Vita coetanea, ed. H. Harada (Turnhout: Brepols, 1980), p. 295). 24 Secundus modus est ire ad quandam insulam, quae Raycet appellatur, quae est prope Alexandriam situata (Ramon Llull, De fine, p. 276). 25 Et magister istius ordinis cum fratribus suis teneat frontariam in Herminia (Ramon Llull, Quomodo terra sancta recuperari potest, p. 328). 26 Et etiam sit prohibitum et uetatum, quod nullus christianus ausus fuerit in Alexandriam uel Syriam mercimonia ire emptum; et esset excommunicatus, quicumque prohibitum pertransiret, et eorum bona, qui hoc praesumerent, caperentur, De fine, p. 281 (Ramon Llull, Quomodo terra sancta recuperari potest, p. 328).

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either, since Pope Nicolas IV issued a bull in 128927 inviting the Italian commercial cities to carry it out. A year before the Liber de passagio was written, this blockade was once more proposed, and lasted for 10 years.

1. 2. Per Terra When we look at the images that illustrate the Chronicles of Joinville or Guillaume of Saint-Pathus, we can observe the army described by Ramon Llull: the type of weapons, the number of soldiers on foot and horseback.28 Liber de passagio emphasises that all troops should voyage by sea, and go ashore just at the target to be attacked,29 a plan executed by Louis IX which had temporary success, because once he left the city of Damietta –re-taken in June 1249– to look for the armies of the Sultan of Babylon, the pilgrimage of the French King ended in defeat and an expensive ransom. Perhaps, warned by this defeat, Ramon Llull states that Christian land armies were at some disadvantage against the Muslims, since the latter refused confrontation and attacked later, when the Christian troops had been decimated by heat, fatigue, thirst and hunger. Therefore, he offers as an alternative the services of Almogavars,30 whose knowledge of tactics and skill with weapons would be a great support for the Christian armies. That recommendation seems strange, since he omits to mention the Catalan companies, trained in the reconquest of Valencia and Majorca, who provided safekeeping services to the cities in the north of Africa. Those companies were Louis IX’s first opponents when he landed in Tunisia in 1270. The trade treaties and the political exchange between the Catalan kings and the Sultan of Tunisia based their prosperity, to some extent, on the highly-regarded services of the Catalan mercenary companies.31 Another advantage of attacks by land rather than by sea was the destruction of the sources and supplies of enemy armies. In addition, they 27 Richard Jean, “Le royaume de Chypre et l'embargo sur le commerce avec l'Egypte (fin XIIIe-début XIVe siècle)”, Comptes rendus des séances de l'Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 1 (1984), pp. 120-134. 28 Ramon Llull, Tractatus de modo convertendi infideles, p. 340; Ramon Llull, De fine, p. 278. 29 Ramon Llull, De fine, pp. 278-280. 30 Ramon Llull, De fine, p. 278. 31 Dufourcq, L'Espagne catalane et le Maghrib aux XIIIe et XIVe siècles, pp. 101104; Gual de Torrella, “Milicias cristianas en Berbería”, Boletín de la Sociedad Arqueológica Luliana, 34 (1973), pp. 54-63.

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provided valuable treasures that could finance the passagium to the Holy Land after the occupation.32 At this point, without going into further details, Llull recommended pillaging and looting, as well as attacking coastal cities in order to obtain the resources necessary to support the troops.

1. 3. The Geographical Coincidence The routes Ramon Llull and Louis IX followed in their forays into the Holy Land and Tunisia were not innovative for the period, as they corresponded to earlier expeditions or previously-known trade routes (see Appendix map 1). However, the coincidence between Llull and Louis IX is striking. Both, although for different reasons, established a base in Cyprus33 for their raids on the East; from Cyprus, they established contact with the military orders, the sultan of Egypt or the Mongols. In Llull’s case, he was unsuccessful at establishing those relationships,34 while Louis IX established an exchange of ambassadors with the Mongols.35 Perhaps this success is unsurprising, because Louis was a king, but it is interesting that his “model” was transferred to the gesta raymundi. In the case of Tunisia, the comfortable commercial relations between Catalonia and the Italian cities of North Africa offered favourable ground for Llull’s project. Some historians consider that the project was never completed. Although Llull wrote an autobiographical testimony of those

32

Ramon Llull, De fine, p. 278. Guillaume of Nangis, Gesta sancti ludovici. Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, pp. 568-570; Ramon Llull, Vita coetanea, p. 295. 34 Mongols are homens que no an lig (Ramon Llull, Doctrina pueril, p. 72); Ramon Llull, Romanç d’Evast e Blanquerna, c. 80, 12, p. 358; Ramon Llull, De fine, pp. 266-269; Ramon Llull, Tractatus de modo convertendi infideles, p. 345; Ramon Llull, Liber de acquisitione terrae sanctae, ed. by E. Kamar, in “Projet de Raymond Lull De acquisitione Terrae Sanctae. Introduction et édition critique du texte”, Collectanea, 6 (1961), p. 124. 35 Gesta sancti ludovici noni. Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, p. 56; Joinville, Vie de Saint Louis. Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, p. 211: Quidam vero ardent libidine dominandi, ut Tartari secundum quod imperator eorum dicit unum dominum debere esse in terra sicut unus Deus in coelo, et ille dominus debet ipse esse et constitui, ut patet in epistola quam misit Domino Ludovico regi Franciae, in qua petit ab eo tributum, sicut in libro fratris Gulielmi de moribus Tartarorum continetur, quem librum scripsit praedicto Regi Franciae (Roger Bacon, Opus majus, ed. by J. H. Bridges (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1897), I, p. 368). 33

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trips and the contact with the “wise men”, the facts cannot be proven.36 Louis IX’s expedition to Tunisia37 also remains an open question for historians. Why did Louis decide to go to Tunisia and not to the Holy Land? Was he attempting to regain the political loyalty of the Sultan with the Kingdom of Sicily and the payment of some debts, or was it true that Al-Muntasir wanted to convert his people to Christianity? The chronicles written after Louis IX’s death mention both reasons, and the most striking is the supposed earlier contact with a Tunisian delegation at the christening of a “well-known” Jewish family in Paris.38 On that occasion, the King took advantage of the opportunity to invite the ambassadors and the Sultan to follow the steps of those converts baptised in Saint-Denis. The coincidence between Llull and Louis IX’s routes (map 1) could be the result of comments in various chronicles, of the gesta ludovici, in which the mendicant orders, the Benedictines of Saint-Denis and the nobles who accompanied Louis on his expeditions recognised with enormous fervour the “spiritual” reasons that pushed him to re-conquer the Holy Land and convert unbelievers. The publication of Louis’s biographies began in 1273 and continued until 1305. There is no doubt that some details of the gesta ludovici are to be found in Llull’s projects, and were even included in Llull’s works.39

2. Modo convertendi 2. 1. Roger Bacon and Ramon Llull: divinas veritates The second procedure in the Llullian ordinatio of passagium generale, which served also as its basis, was to convert the infidels through theological dialogue with the “wise men”, both Muslims and Jews. Llull considered that they were able to explain why Christianity is more valid

36

Raimundus Lullus, An Introduction, ed. by Alexander Fidora, Josep E. Rubio et alii (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008), p. 78; Ramon Llull, Vita coetanea, 25, pp. 288-289. 37 Michel Mollat, “‘Le Passage’ de Saint Louis â Tunis: sa place dans Phistoire des croisades”, Revue d’histoire économique et sociale, 50 (1972), pp. 289-303. 38 Vita sancti ludovici noni. Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, p. 22; Gesta sancti ludovici. Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, p. 448; Gesta sancti ludovici noni. Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, p. 56. 39 Ramon Llull, Vita coetanea, XX, p. 284; XXV, p. 288; XL, p. 299; Ramon Llull, Disputatio Raimundi christiani et Homeri saraceni, ed. A. Madre (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998), p. 262.

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than the religions professed by their people.40 Some Llullian works describe such individual dialogues with wise men, who seem convinced of their tradition and do not allude to the Llullian project, which had been explained in the prologue.41 In other works, Llull calls for the crusade, and the calm dialogue with the “wise men” disappears. Here Llull shows abundant optimism, as he is convinced he would discover how to persuade the unbelievers through his logic of “necessary reasons”.42 He appeals to the intellect to demonstrate the truths of Faith, which would be the first step in the process of abandoning an original religion and accepting another. This issue was common during the 13th century. Thomas of Aquinas was forthright against the intellectual comprehension of faith, because reason defends faith, but cannot prove it.43 However, Ramon Llull intended to go beyond apologist, welldeveloped evidence based on the intellect. An example of this is a brief story in the book Blanquerna44 questioning which wise man (chosen from among men of different religions) loves God in the most perfect way. The answer is the man who knows God for what He is in Himself, and by His creation, for Himself and from Himself. This knowledge is represented by Divine actions, the vestiges of which, as Roger Bacon said, divine wisdom had left in the human intellect through natural creation. So, the arguments formed from these truths do not need religious authorities, or miracles, because they are addressed to the intellect. The reasons that prove what God and His operations are –in and from Himself– are common to

40

Ramon Llull, De fine, p. 256; Ramon Llull, Romanç d’Evast e Blanquerna, V, p. 213 ; XIII, p. 358. 41 Ramon Llull, Disputatio fidelis et infidelis, Beati Raymundi Lulli Opera, ed. by F. P. Wolff and J. M. Kurhummel (Magúncia: Häffner, 1729), p. 377; Ramon Llull, Disputatio Raimundi christiani et Homeri saraceni, pp. 172-173. 42 Ramon Llull, De modo convertendi infideles, p. 341; Ramon Llull, Vita coetanea, XXVI, p. 290. 43 Quia tamen quod a summa veritate procedit, falsum esse non potest, nec aliquid necessaria ratione impugnari valet quod falsum non est; sicut fides nostra necessariis rationibus probari non potest, quia humanam mentem excedit, ita improbari necessaria ratione non potest propter sui veritatem. Ad hoc igitur debet tendere Christiani disputatonis intentio in articulis fidei, non ut fidem probet, sed ut fidem defendat: unde et beatus Petrus non dicit: ‘parati semper’ ad probationem, sed ‘ad satisfactionem’, ut scilicet rationabiliter ostendatur non esse falsum quod fides Catholica confitetur (Thomas of Aquinas, De rationibus Fidei, ed. by Ludwig Hagemann and Reinhold Glei (Altenberge: CIS Verlag, 1987), p. 2). 44 Ramon Llull, Romanç d’Evast e Blanquerna, pp. 377-379.

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philosophy and theology, as Bacon45 stated in the Opus majus, and establish an agreement between the faithful and the infidels. Those passages seem to be a source of the Doctrina pueril when Ramon Llull states: No som en temps de miracles, cor la devoció era major de convertir lo mon en los apostols que no es ara en lo temps en que som; ne rahons fundades sobre actoritats no reben los infaels. Doncs, covinent es a convertir los infaels ab lo Libre de demostracions e la Art de trobar veritat, la qual los sia mostrada per tal que ab ela los combata hom lur intelligencia, per so que coneguen e amen Deu.46

Beyond the means of converting the infidels through a dialogue based on necessary reasons (Llull) or divine truths (Bacon), what invites evangelisation, martyrdom and the imitation of the Apostles’ lives47 is the explicit command in the Holy Scriptures. This command has an implicit condition: contact with people of different languages and customs. The crusaders and mendicant orders demanded the learning of languages other than Latin: Greek, Arabic, Hebrew and also the language of the Tartars. In his report about the recovery of the Holy Land, Pierre Dubois48 45

Sed non possumus hic arguere per legem nostram, nec per auctoritates Sanctorum, quia infideles negant Christum Dominum et legem suam et sanctos. Quapropter oportet quaerere rationes per alteram viam, et haec est communis nobis et infidelibus, scilicet philosophia. Sed potestas philosophiae in hac parte maxime convenit cum sapientia Dei, immo est vestigium sapientiae divinae datum a Deo homini, ut per hoc vestigium excitetur ad divinas veritates. Nec ista sunt propria philosophiae sed communia theologiae et philosophiae, fidelibus et infidelibus, a Deo data et revelata a philosophis, quatenus genus humanum praeparetur ad divinas veritates speciales (Roger Bacon, Opus majus, I, p. 373). 46 “These are not times for miracles, because devotion was greater in the apostles’ world than nowadays; not even the reasons founded on authorities convince the infidels. So, it is fitting to convert the unbelievers through the Book of demonstrations and the Art of finding the truth, which will be demonstrated by the man who fights with his intelligence, and so the unbelievers will know and love God” (Ramon Llull, Doctrina pueril, p. 225). 47 [...] que no duptás a sostenir los trebays que hom ha per apendra lur lenguatge ne tamés lo peril de la mort. E per lo convertiment que hom faria en aquels per vertut de martiri, e cor els son ja en openió que Mafumet no es missatge de Deu, los altres sarrayns convertir-s’ien si veyen que los mayors savis lurs se faessen crestians (Ramon Llull, Doctrina Pueril, LXXI, p. 185; Ramon Llull, Vita coetanea, XIX, p. 284; Ramon Llull, De fine, p. 254). 48 Pierre Dubois, De recuperatione Terre Sancte : traité de politique générale, ed. by Charles V. Langlois (Paris: Picard, 1891), p. 48.

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emphasises the importance of men who speak other languages in order to establish an educational model in that region, a model that would provide teachings in languages and idiosyncratic matters. In 1248, Pope Innocence IV requested the Chancellor of the University of Paris to choose masters for Arabic teaching. This kind of studium was set up in Tunisia, conducted by the order of preachers, and similar places were founded in Murcia, Valencia and Barcelona.49 This fact had a great effect on the Llullian ordinatio of the crusade. The Liber de passagio, Liber de fine and the modo convertendi have as their first rule the foundation of language schools to train men who imitate the lives of Apostles and can argue with wise men from other religions. This aim seems to be a dialectical exercise close to philosophy, and seeks the conversion of infidels through reason and demonstration or, in other words, “to straighten those who live in error”.

2. 2. The Ambiguity of Interfaith Dispute It is my opinion that intellectual persuasion through “Divine Truths” has two meanings in the modo convertendi. The first is the dialectical selfless exercise of the Llibre del gentil and the Blanquerna in which there is no particular purpose imposed on the argument. The second meaning is rhetorical, since the arguments seek a predefined and admittedly mandatory goal: conversion. Johnston leaned towards this second meaning, and attributed it to the whole Llullian ordinatio. I have also found two of Llull’s texts that support this: the first summons Muslims and Jews to attend preaching sessions on Fridays and Saturdays. Although not mandatory, it also includes a warning: God says that that “whoever is not with me, is against me”.50 The second text requires princes and 49

Rudolf Brummer, “Ramon Llull und das Studium des Arabischen”, Zeitschrift für romanische Philologie, 85 (1969), pp. 132-143; Dufourcq, L'Espagne catalane et le Maghrib aux XIIIe et XIVe siècles, pp. 106-110. 50 Multi Iudaei et etiam Saraceni sunt subditi christianis, et maxime in Hispania. Et ideo bonum, magnum et uerum est, quod Iudaeis praedicetur in die sabbati, et Saracenis in die ueneris, quia in illis diebus est festum eorum; et quod sermones reducantur ad syllogismum et ad intelligibile, secundum quod patet in prima, secunda | et tertia distinctione. Et si talis praedicatio sit perpetua, necessario sequeretur quod tales Iudaei et Saraceni uenirent ad uiam ueritatis, quia intellectus magis se delectat et se impraegnat per intelligere, quam per credere. Ad talem praedicationem autem unum librum feci; et etiam in pluribus, quos feci, est implicata. Qui autem contra talem ordinationem est, habeat aures et audiat uerbum Dei, dicentis: Qui non est me cum, contra me est (Ramon Llull, Liber de

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prelates to seek the conversion of infidels, and affirms that if they do not accept the order freely, they would be obliged to do so by the armies of Christendom.51 Louis IX was undoubtedly responsible for the second meaning of persuasion, since attendance at the Disputation of Paris in 1240 and the subsequent preaching in the synagogues was mandatory, and the attendees had also to answer the questions from the preacher “in all honesty”. Perhaps the repetition of that exercise, says Ramon Llull, brings about conversion. Without doubt, this kind of mandatory preaching took place in Saint-Denis as a prologue when Louis IX took the Cross and left for Aigues-mortes. The ambiguity of these two meanings of persuasion, from my point of view, is not easily solved, since the dispute is disinterested in some of Llull’s texts, while other texts imply an ordinatio, but both meanings sought conversion. Ramon Llull quotes the case of a monk who failed to convince the Sultan of Tunisia of the truth of the Christian faith. The sultan was dispensed from mandatory conversion, implied in the dialogue with the monk, because there was no power above him that imposed any other goal than mere discussion on him.52 Llull’s comment on this story, in which he also mentions the name of Louis IX, is curious. If the Sultan refused conversion, there would be a solution: to go to the land of the Saracens and re-conquer the Holy Land, as the French King did. This comment again returns to the ambiguity of the intellectual persuasion of the dialogue based on the “Divine Truths”, since there still remained a final secular resource which, nevertheless, participated in the ordinatio ente quod simpliciter est per se et propter se existens et agens, ed. by H. Harada (Turnhout: Brepols, 1980) p. 243). 51 Sanctissimus Pater in Christo, dominus papa, et uenerabiles cardinales, archiepiscopi, episcopi et praelati tenentur ex obligatione, ut faciant posse suum, quod pagani necnon Iudaei, infideles etiam alii, fiant christiani, ut possint perpetuo saluari; et si noluerint per disputationem conuenire aut liberam uoluntatem, saltem praedicentur, et per principes christianorum aut exercitus armis munitos compellantur (Ramon Llull, Liber per quem potest cognosci quae lex sit magis bona, magis magna et etiam magis vera, ed. by A. Soria et alii (Turnhout: Brepols, 1991), p. 180). 52 Et, ideo, si religiosus ille de nostra fide tales dedisset rationes ita cogentes, quod rex non posset soluere ante dictas -quae rationes sunt in sacra pagina implicatae; et sum certus etiam, quod in libris meis supra dictis sunt, ut patet in eisdem- tunc rex fuisset christianus, et una cum eo suae gentes, quoniam sanctus rex Franciae Ludouicus iuit tunc Tunicium cum exercitu suo magno; et si praedictus rex Saracenorum consensisset, tota sua patria fuisset iam fidelis. Et sic recuperata fuisset Terra sancta (Ramon Llull, De fine, pp. 267-268).

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that governed Christendom and which could have helped to achieve the apostolic aim of the crusade. I would like to point out a final text that supports the second meaning of persuasion. In the prologue of the Dictat de Ramon, Saint Louis appears together with King James II. Llull imposes a compulsory task on the kings: the religious dispute in the territories governed by the Kings of France and Catalonia. I find it surprising that, almost 20 years after his death, Louis IX was the subject of a dedication in the ordinatio by Ramon Llull who, as he says in the text, was en route from Paris in 1299. A honor del Sant Spirit Ϫ començà e finí son scrit, Ϫ Ramon, en vinén de París; Ϫ el comana a sant Luys Ϫ e al molt noble rey d Aragó, Ϫ Jacme, en L EncarnacióϪ de M.CC.XC nou.53

2. 3. The Two Prisoners, Two Martyrs and Dialogue with the Infidel Before the capture of Louis IX in Egypt and Ramon Llull in Bugia, Saint Francis of Assisi sought either martyrdom or the conversion of the Sultan Al-Malik. The Legenda maior54 tells us that Saint Francis asked the Sultan to convert along with his people and offered to walk through flames as proof of his holiness and to demonstrate the power and the glory of God. The Sultan answered that none of his “priests” would be capable of such action to convince others of the truth of their faith. This willingness of Saint Francis awoke the admiration of the Sultan, because he did not know any man so pious as to be capable of such sacrifice. The story begins with a description of the martyrdom that preachers suffered in Morocco or Spain, and the decision of Saint Francis to go to the Holy Land in order to 53 “To the honour of the Holy Ghost ‫ ۄ‬Ramon begins and ‫ ۄ‬ends his text, ‫ ۄ‬in the way to Paris; ‫ ۄ‬he dedicates to Saint Louis ‫ ۄ‬and the very noble James, ‫ ۄ‬King of Aragon, on ‫ ۄ‬the incarnation year ‫ ۄ‬of 1299”. Ϫ Placia ausir est nostre mou, Ϫ lo qual havem en disputarϪ contra Is infaels, e mostrarϪ de nostra fe la veritat; Ϫ e que hi sien li prelat, Ϫ Preycadors, frares Menors, Ϫ e atressí li grans senyorsϪ qui han enteniment levat: Ϫ e sien jueus appellatϪ e serrayns, al disputar; Ϫ e adonchs mostrarem tot clarϪ que nostra fe es veritat, Ϫ e que Is infaels són errat. Ϫ E si eu, sènyer, mestre el ver, Ϫ placia us quem donets poderϪ per vostres regnes e comtats, Ϫ castells, viles e ciutats, Ϫ que Is serrayns faça ajustar, Ϫ e los judeus, al disputarϪ sobr' est novell nostre Dictat (Ramon Llull, Dictat de Ramon, ed. by and Ramon d'Alòs-Moner (Palma de Mallorca: Patronat Ramon Llull, 1936), p. 267). 54 Saint Bonaventure, Legendae S. Francisci Assisiensis saeculis XIII et XIV conscriptae. V, 10, 5 (Claras Aquas-Florentiae, Quaracchi and Florence: Quaracci, 1926-1941), pp. 597-601.

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convert the Muslims. His journey began –as did the journey of many Crusaders– in the port of Ancona on a boat to Syria in order to meet AlMalik, the powerful Sultan who was fighting against the Christians (map 1; fig. 3). Llull (fig. 1) and Louis IX (fig. 2) sought, each in their own way, a similar outcome. That similarity is documented in the iconography that represents this type of contact, seeking the conversion of Muslims (fig. 3). The exemplary tales about the preacher or the crusader caused admiration among the captors. It is said that Louis IX baptised his jailers, and that he was admired by his fellow prisoners when he tried to convert nonChristian soldiers to Christianity.55 There is also a testimony of martyrdom, as well as a story about the way in which he buried soldiers fallen in battle. So, when the hefty ransom was paid for the French king, he left behind an image of justice and Christian piety among the Muslims, which the chroniclers emphasise in different ways. Ramon Llull’s search for martyrdom was reflected in his forays into Tunisia, which were described in the Vita coetanea,56 as well as in the biographical images of Breuiculum.57 Those accounts reflect the consequences for Christians preaching in Muslim lands. However, as Saint Francis knew, that was the risk taken by those who sought to convert infidels. The difference between Llull and his predecessors was the use of intellectual arguments and dialogue through “necessary reasons”. In the case of Louis IX and Saint Francis, the missionary goals were an important instrument to arouse admiration for piety and charity; Ramon Llull, however, was looking for conversion through the art that he had invented. Despite these differences, the scenario in which Llull developed his arguments has important similarities with the facts in the accounts of Louis IX or Saint Francis: firstly, the search for the infidels in their own land to convert them; secondly, the physical suffering implied in martyrdom; and thirdly, the admiration that this behaviour awakened among the Muslims. These aspects are represented in the iconography of this type of missionary task, in which scenes of martyrdom and dialogue are repeated as an imaginative reference to these kinds of apostolic facts. 55 Gesta sancti ludovici noni. Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, p. 55; Jean of Joinville, Vie de Saint Louis. Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, p. 248. 56 Ramon Llull, Vita coetanea, XX, p. 284; XXV, p. 288; XXIX, p. 292 ; XXXVI, p. 297; Ramon Llull, Disputatio Raimundi christiani et Homeri saraceni, p. 262. 57 Le Myésier, Breviculum seu electorium parvum Thomae Migerii, ed Charles H. Lohr, Theodor Pindl-Büchel et alii (Turnhout: Brepols, 1990).

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3. Conclusion In the works Ramon Llull devoted to his crusading project, he includes the name of Louis IX as an example and reference of the role that a Christian King should play in this kind of expedition. He also reproduces the French King’s routes to the Holy Land (Egypt and Tunisia), and the material conditions for a military expedition, which he undoubtedly had learnt in the chronicles that described the raids of Louis IX. He even asked for his support, along with that of James II, twenty years after his death. Despite being a literary resource, it shows how important Louis IX was for Ramon Llull. This fact leads me to formulate the hypothesis that the bellator rex, or the ideal Christian King, is Louis IX. Llull describes him in the Liber de fine. The common points shown by the historical aspects described in the chronicles, the iconographic depiction and the Llullian ordinatio to crusade throughout this article show the arguments which defend this hypothesis. Another reason that leads me to formulate this hypothesis is that the bellator rex, according to Llull, must be accompanied by successors, that is, other nobles who would continue his work if he fell in battle. Louis IX went on his expeditions accompanied by much of the French nobility and his direct heirs to the throne, although that did not prevent the failure of the crusade. In addition to the military aspect, modo bellandi, there is the Llullian conversion project, modo convertendi. In this respect, the figure of Louis IX is an inspiration to Llull, since he attempted to convert the Mongols so they would assist him in the re-conquest of the Holy Land. The chronicles also describe the conversions of Jews, preaching in the synagogues and sponsorship of controversy with Parisian rabbis. In short, the ordinatio of Llull’s plan, which was based on the theological agenda of the Middle Ages, was prepared by the Creator in nature, and Louis IX was its epitome.

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Appendix

Map 1: Louis IX: 1 Aigues-Mortes 1248, 2 Cyprus 1251, 3 Tunis 1270; Ramon Llull: 4 Genes 1293, 5 Tunis 1293-1313, 6 Béjaïa 1307, 7 Cyprus 1301, 8 Damietta 1219.

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Figure 1: Breviculum (Karlsruhe, codex St. Peter, parch. 92); fig IX, Llull preaching to Saracens in Tunisia 1293; fig. X, Bougie 1307, Llull discussing and prisoner.

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Figure 2: Guillaume of Saint-Pathus, Vie et Miracles de saint Louis, 1330, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Manuscript, Fr. 5716, 127v; Martyrdom and preaching of Saint Louis.

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Figure 3: Florence, Basilica of Santa Croce, Bardi dossal, Saint Francis preaches to the Saracens. Coppo di Marcovaldo 1244.

AN EPISCOPAL MONASTERY IN FLORENCE TH TH FROM THE 11 TO THE EARLY 13 CENTURY: SAN MINIATO AL MONTE1 MARIA PIA CONTESSA UNIVERSITÀ DEGLI STUDI DI FIRENZE

The monastery of San Miniato al Monte was founded by Florentine bishop Ildebrando in the early 11th century. His purpose was to create a prestigious stronghold for the urban prelates, a sort of management centre for the episcopal possessions and a tool for controlling the countryside. Ildebrando’s successors remained linked to the monastery and used it in their pastoral and political activities. However, Florentine society, its institutions and politics changed radically between the 11th and 12th centuries. An eminently urban ruling class (the milizia) arose, asserted itself and set up the early communal institutions. During the 12th century, this governing group changed its features becoming more and more exclusive and attracted to land in the country.2 At the same time, new social groups with ties to the guilds became established, demanding and obtaining key roles in the city’s government. They contested the milizia’s political influence for decades until they finally gained the upper hand in 1250.3 On the following pages, we will examine the role that San Miniato played in the social and religious life of the city during the first two centuries of its existence. To understand it, we must consider the link between the monastery and its patrons, the Florentine bishops’ pastoral

1

Abbreviations used: AAL, Archivio Arcivescovile di Lucca; ASF, Archivio di Stato di Firenze. 2 Enrico Faini, “Il gruppo dirigente fiorentino dell’età consolare”, Archivio storico italiano, 162 (2004), pp. 199-231. 3 Silvia Diacciati, “Popolo e regimi politici a Firenze nella prima metà del Duecento”, Annali di Storia di Firenze, 1 (2006), pp. 37-81. See also: Silvia Diacciati, Popolani e magnati. Società e politica nella Firenze del Duecento (Spoleto: Centro Italiano di Studi sull’alto Medioevo, 2011).

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works and the relations they created with the community and its institutions.

1. The foundation of the monastery and its role in 11th century Florentine society San Miniato al Monte stands on a hill on the south-eastern side of Florence. When the monastery was founded, the area was just outside the city walls. The hill itself dominates the city above the point where the Via Cassia, the road connecting Florence and Rome, reached the only bridge that spanned the Arno River before entering the city proper (more or less where the Ponte Vecchio is today). There was an ancient, dilapidated little chapel dedicated to the early Christian martyr, Minias on that hill.4 Bishop Ildebrando (1008-1024) decided to restore it and obtained the support of his temporal lord, the emperor Henry II. He disinterred the remains of Minias and some other martyrs, put them into a reliquary he placed in a purpose-built crypt, and finally entrusted them to a community of Benedictine monks founded for that reason. The bishop consecrated the monastic building in April 1018. He then endowed it with diocesan properties and rights located almost entirely in the countryside, and finally he appointed the abbot, reserving the right to make this appointment for himself and for his successors.5 He asked the abbot to write a new passion of St. Minias (a description of his martyrdom) to replace the existing version that had probably been written between the 8th and 9th century.6 This new passion was meant to spur devotion to the cult of Saint Minias which Ildebrando wanted to promote for religious purposes, and to protect both his own and the diocese’s interests. The establishment of San Miniato was not unusual for the period: many urban (and suburban) monasteries were created on the initiative of local bishops in central and northern Italy between the 10th and 11th centuries. Bishops played a very important role in Medieval cities. They 4

Placido Lugano, San Miniato a Firenze: storia e leggenda (Florence: Biblioteca scientifico-religiosa, 1902). 5 Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), ed. by Luciana Mosiici (Florence: Olschki, 1990), doc. nº 5. 6 Claudio Leonardi, “San Miniato: il martire e il suo culto sul monte di Firenze”, La Basilica di San Miniato al Monte a Firenze, ed. by Francesco Gurrieri, Luciano Berti and Claudio Leonardi (Florence: Giunti, 1988), pp 279-285, especially, p. 281; Francesco Salvestrini, Libera città su fiume regale. Firenze e l’Arno dall’Antichità al Quattrocento (Florence: Nardini, 2005), p. 36.

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had prevented the total decline of the cities following the fall of the Roman Empire when the Germanic tribes invaded Italy and then during the Longobard and Frankish dominations. They were strong religious and political references for their communities and the surrounding areas both during the long period of instability following the dissolution of the Carolingian dynasty and during the period when Saxon emperors tried to assert and consolidate their power in the Regnum Italiae. In the 10th and 11th centuries, bishops were an important link between emperors and local communities, and between them and the Papacy that was still succumbing to secular interference, above all from the Holy Roman Emperors. One of the most important aspects of the bishop’s role during this early period of the cities’ long march towards autonomy concerned “management” of the symbols of the cities’ identity and civic memory. This explains the blossoming of both new and revised hagiographical works dedicated to local patron saints or to promoting new cults connected to recently-discovered relics of saints and holy figures.7 Ever since the early days of Christianity, local powers established monasteries to consolidate family wealth and assert the founders’ presence and power over the land. This tool had been particularly useful to the Carolingian sovereigns in promoting their policies across the Empire, and that is why noblemen and monarchs often resorted to it as well. The episcopal monasteries built from the end of 10th century afforded their patrons the same benefits: they favoured territorial control, the creation of a network of supporters and increased the flow of donations. Furthermore, we must not forget that in promoting such establishments, the founders were not acting out of mere opportunism: their actions testified to their genuine devotion.8 Establishing San Miniato meant Ildebrando carried out important work connected with his episcopal mission: safeguarding the souls of his flock, promoting civic devotion and protecting the wealth of his diocese. In an article published in 1987, George Dameron expressed his opinion about what he believed Ildebrando’s aims were, i.e. that he wanted to preserve the wealth and rights of the Florentine Church from the threat posed by families, such as the Guidi and Cadolingi families who were asserting themselves in the countryside, and create a personal fortune to hand down

7 Michele Pellegrini, Vescovo e città. Una relazione nel Medioevo italiano (secoli II-XIV) (Milan: Bruno Mondadori, 2009). 8 Paolo Golinelli, “Monasteri cittadini e società urbana in alta Italia intorno al Mille”, Città e culto dei santi nel medioevo italiano, ed. by Paolo Golinelli (Bologna: Clueb, 1991), pp. 33-44, especially, p. 39.

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to his own descendants.9 When he died, his three sons and the head of the canons took possession of part of the only property the monastery seemed to own in the city, a little church (ecclesia et oratorium) dedicated to Saint Andrew located in the Mercato Vecchio, with its adjacent cemetery, offerings, souls and other assets.10 Ildebrando was criticised by the 11th century reformers for having failed to respect the vow of celibacy as clergymen were expected to. Today, we should not judge him too severely because concubinage and appropriation of Church assets were common among the clergy at the time, and would soon no longer be tolerated.11 Instead, we should consider the positive aspects of his management: he proceeded to survey the wealth of the Florentine bishopric in order to assert and safeguard its rights, and acted to strengthen episcopal prestige throughout the diocese. From this standpoint, he was a forerunner of the reformers, and the establishment of San Miniato was the main tool he used to reach his goal.12 According to tradition, during the early decades of its existence, San Miniato was indirectly involved with events related to the movement to reform the clergy’s moral conduct. The first biographers of John Gualberto, the founder of the Vallombrosa Order, pointed out that John, a monk at San Miniato, had left the monastery after discovering that the new abbot, Oberto (1034/’37-1072/’77), obtained his office for money. Some time later, John reached the Vallombrosa forest where he created the first new Benedictine community with other monks who had also fled from San Miniato.13 The same biographers describe Oberto as cunning and artful, experienced in worldly business and barely devoted to religious life. They 9 George W. Dameron, “The Cult of St. Minias and the Struggle for Power in the Diocese of Florence, 1011-1018”, Journal of Medieval History, 13 (1987), pp. 125-141. 10 Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), doc. nº 7. 11 Tommaso di Carpegna Falconieri, “Il clero secolare tra primo e secondo millennio”, Riforma o restaurazione? La cristianità nel passaggio dal primo al secondo millennio: persistenze e novità, ed. by Centro di Studi Avellaniti (Verona: Il segno, 2006), pp. 71-82, especially, pp. 73-74. 12 George W. Dameron, Episcopal Power and Florentine Society: 1000-1320 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991), p. 36. 13 On the Vallombrosa Order see: Francesco Salvestrini, “Disciplina caritatis”. Il monachesimo vallombrosano tra medioevo e prima età moderna (Rome: Viella, 2008); Francesco Salvestrini, I Vallombrosani in Liguria. Storia di una presenza monastica fra XII e XVII secolo (Rome: Viella 2010); Francesco Salvestrini, “Bibliografia storica ragionata dell’ordine vallombrosano”, Reti Medievali rivista, 2 (2001), .

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also pointed out that bishop Ildebrando lived with a woman named Alperga, who bore his sons.14 Since the biographies of John Gualberto are the sole sources that speak of his departure from San Miniato, 18th and 19th century scholars interested in reconstructing the genesis of the Vallombrosa Order gave considerable weight to the biographers’ claims and thereby emphasised the abbot’s presumed simony. While talking about Giovanni’s actions against the clergy’s way of life, the same scholars laid particular stress on Ildebrando’s behaviour. By reiterating those matters, they unintentionally suggested a moral conflict between the reformers’ rigour and the presumed laxity of the Benedictine community, persuading their readers to extend the negative image associated with Ildebrando and Oberto –who were closely tied to San Miniato– to the entire monastery. Furthermore, even the problems the monastery encountered in the 13th and 14th centuries have been highlighted by scholars, sometimes within narrative digressions that contained with temporal “leaps” –a common practice among early authors– that do little to further the comprehension of their texts. In a word, although the 17th and 18th century scholars did not specifically want to show San Miniato in a poor light, their work presented a distorted view of the monastery’s early years, portraying it as totally isolated from the society developing around it. Indeed, the picture of a degraded and isolated religious community is not corroborated by the records and is probably far removed from contemporary perceptions. Precisely when John Gualberto and his followers were striving to clean up the clergy’s behaviour, San Miniato was enjoying what may be considered its period of greatest splendour. Abbot Oberto was tirelessly working to increase the monastery’s riches, soliciting donations from lay benefactors, defending it from people who claimed rights to its possessions and obtaining protection and favours from pontiffs and sovereigns. He turned San Miniato into a leading cultural centre because he promoted the creation of a monastic chancery and appointed a notary named Alberto, who had probably received a church education at San Miniato, to draft nearly all of the monastery’s documents. Alberto was the most prestigious notary of his time; he wrote for the most important religious institutions in the city, he always acted in significant contexts; above he all triggered a graphic revolution, as he was the first to use the diplomatic minuscule script. His achievement is closely 14

Andrea di Strumi, Vita Johannis Gualberti. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores, ed. by Friedrich Baethgen (Lipsiae, 1934), XXX, 2, pp. 1080-1104; Anonimo, Vita Johannis Gualberti. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores, ed. by Friedrich Baethgen (Lipsiae, 1934), XXX, 2, pp. 1104-1110.

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connected to his work for San Miniato: Oberto employed him as a notarychancellor encouraging him to make use of the script that influenced Florentine notaries.15 We can also see influences in Alberto’s notarial work from Kadeloh, the imperial chancellor who was in Florence and Tuscany during that period.16 Finally, recent studies on Romanesque art in Tuscany suggest that it was Oberto himself who conceived the first part of the magnificent church that still overlooks Florence today.17 All this means that San Miniato’s cultural referents of the period were truly leading figures, and credit must certainly go to Oberto. His personality matches the descriptions we read in the biographies of John Gualberto,18 but this did not damage the prestige and authoritativeness the abbot enjoyed at that time. This is borne out by the delicate task he was assigned in 1061 by Pope Nicholas II (Gerardo di Borgogna), who remained the bishop of Florence even after he was elected to the papacy. He appointed the abbot and the vicedomino Giovanni to settle a dispute between the canons and the rector of the church of San Lorenzo about some land near Florence. The rival parties belonged to the hierarchy of the Florentine Church and Oberto and the vicedomino represented the higherranking local ecclesiastical authorities.19 Evidence shows that San Miniato enjoyed prosperity and positive relations with the city’s bishops throughout Oberto’s almost forty-year long abbacy. Seemingly, the monastery did not feel the effects of the difficulties its patron Pietro Mezzabarba (ca. 1064-1068) had. He was charged with simony and became the target of the reformers’ attacks, and 15

Giulia Ammannati, “La scrittura dei notai fiorentini nei secoli X e XI. Con un excursus su due documenti del notaio Lamberto (S. Pier Maggiore, 1067 febbraio 27; S. Maria di Rosano, 1045 febbraio 18)”, Medioevo e Rinascimento, 20 (2009), pp. 33-70, especially, pp. 50-57. 16 Carte della Badia di Settimo e della Badia di Buonsollazzo nell’Archivio di Stato di Firenze, 998-1200, ed. by Antonella Ghignoli and Anna Rita Ferrucci (Florence: Sismel Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2004), pp. 37-38. 17 Guido Tigler, Toscana romanica (Milan: Jaca Book, 2006). 18 For the opinions of John Gualberto’s biographers see also: Nicolangelo d’Acunto, “Le nuove regole del gioco: aspetti della rivolta contro il vescovo di Firenze Pietro Mezzabarba”, L’età dell’obbedienza. Papato, Impero e poteri locali nel secolo XI, ed. by Nicolangelo d’Acunto (Naples: Liguori, 2007), pp. 85-133, especially, p. 93. 19 Le carte della Canonica della Cattedrale di Firenze (723-1149), ed. by Renato Piattoli (Rome: Instituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1938), docs. nº 62, 65 and 66; Enrico Faini, Firenze nell’età romanica (1000-1211). L’espansione urbana, lo sviluppo istituzionale, il rapporto con il territorio (Florence: Olschki, 2010), pp. 283-284.

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was forced to step down in 1068.20 Oberto died a few years later and left his place to a successor he had probably designated during the vacancy of the episcopal see.21

2. San Miniato, Florentine bishops and political and institutional changes in the city (12th to 13th century) Ildebrando’s successors had a great love for San Miniato. Lamberto (ca. 1025-ca. 1032) worked to recover the monastery’s possessions that had been removed by Ildebrando’s sons, and who probably enjoyed the support of the canons.22 His efforts restored the properties to the Florentine Church: a few years later they were listed among the assets of the Chapter23 and, even though they are not mentioned in any of the San Miniato documents after that time, we know that the monastery still exercised its rights over them in the 1180s.24 As to donations, Lamberto, Atto (1032/’34-1045) and Gerardo (1045-1061) confirmed their predecessors’ grants and increased the monastery’s wealth with new gifts.25 By the middle of the 11th century, San Miniato held the title deeds to many properties and rights in Florence and the surrounding countryside, as well as in Siena and its surroundings. With Gerardo’s successors, donations and privileges stopped. Pietro Mezzabarba certainly enjoyed the collaboration of the abbot of San Miniato,26 but to our knowledge, he was not particularly generous to the 20 Nicolangelo d’Acunto, “Mezzabarba, Pietro”, Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 74 (2010). 21 Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), doc. nº 38. After the removal of Pietro the Florentine episcopal see remained vacant until the advent of bishop Ranieri in 1071 or 1072. 22 Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), docs. nº 7 and 10. 23 Le carte della Canonica della Cattedrale di Firenze (723-1149), docs. nº 40 and 53. 24 Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), doc. nº 120. See also: Andrea Puglia, La Marca di Tuscia tra X e XI secolo. Impero, società locale e amministrazione marchionale negli anni 970-1027 (Pisa: Il campano, 2004), pp. 71-76. 25 On bishop Lamberto’s privileges: Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), docs. nº 8 and 9; Atto: Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), docs. nº 12, 14 and 22; Gerardo di Borgogna: Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), docs. nº 28, 37 and 49. 26 In 1065 Oberto was with Pietro Mezzabarba when he granted a libellus to the Badia Fiorentina: Le carte del Monastero di S. Maria in Firenze (Badia), 2 vols.,

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monastery. The documentary silence during Ranieri’s long episcopacy (1071/’72-1113) is even more surprising: he only seems to have taken part in settling a dispute between the monks of San Miniato and the cathedral canons concerning the distribution of tithes.27 In 1141, bishop Gottifredo degli Alberti (1114-1142) granted the monastery one third of the tithes collected in the parish of Doccia.28 This was certainly an important concession, but it was a libellus, not a donation, so from the legal standpoint, the diocese retained its property rights. After this charta libelli, the sources are silent regarding any other contact between San Miniato and Florentine bishops during the second half of the 12th century29 and the relationships worsened in the early 13th century: the monks expected to choose their own abbots, the bishops excommunicated them and appointed rectors they trusted.30 In the 1230s and 40s, on the other hand, it seems that bishop Ardingo (1231-1247) acted in agreement with abbot Chierico, who had been appointed by his predecessor. Ardingo allowed Chierico to sell a small number of the monastery’s possessions and to take out a loan to settle a debt; he was present when the chaplain of San Pietro a Ema swore obedience to the abbot. Finally, in 1246 the bishop took Chierico under his protection and confirmed the monastery’s wealth and rights.31 Chierico was also active with the bishop and Dominican friars of Santa Maria Novella in persecuting heretics.32 None of this, however, means that relations between Ardingo and monks returned to a positive footing, assuming that they had ever been good. However, the privilege he granted in 1246, with the abbot’s intervention, may have been a sign of rapprochement between

ed. by Luciano Schiaparelli and Anna Maria Enriques Agnoletti (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1990), I, doc. nº 60. 27 Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), doc. nº 38. 28 Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), doc nº 74. 29 There were five bishops of Florence during that period: Atto II (1148-1154), Ambrogio (1156-1158), Giulio (1158-1181), Bernardo (1182-1188), Pietro (11881205). 30 In 1200 bishop Pietro excommunicated monks for this reason. In 1210 bishop Giovanni da Velletri (1205-1230) removed abbot Benedetto, a priest appointed by monks, and replaced him with Giuseppe: ASF, Manoscritti, 48bis, pp. 16 and 18; Giovanni Lami, Sancta Ecclesiae Florentinae monumenta, 4 vols. (Florentiae: ex Typographio Deiparae ab Angelo Salutatae, 1758), I, p. 51. 31 ASF, S. Maria della Badia, 1232 novembre 26; ASF, S. Miniato al Monte, 1236 settembre 17; ASF, S. Miniato al Monte, 1238 ottobre 28; AAL, Enti religiosi soppressi, 13, cc. 27r-29r. 32 ASF, S. Maria Novella, 1245 agosto 24, 2 docs.

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the parties. This hypothesis could explain Ardingo’s stay at San Miniato in the spring of 1247, when he was sick and felt his end drawing near.33 As mentioned above, there is no evidence about tensions between the Florentine bishops and their monastery before 1200. It was probably during the 12th century that relations deteriorated. It would be interesting to identify the monks and discover their possible connections with the Florentine families. It would allow us to verify the existence of any factions within the Benedictine community that had ties to the political parties on the outside, but the available sources shed no light on the matter. In any case, events during the last decade of the 12th century were crucial to the transformation of Florentine society and the redefinition of the political and institutional balance. The reason for tensions between the San Miniato monks and bishops is probably related to the loss of the bishopric’s central role in Florentine political life, to the advantage of the nascent communal institutions. As we shall see, that loss was facilitated by the strained relations between the bishops and the chapter. By the middle of the 12th century, it was quite clear that the Florentine bishops would not assume the political leadership of the city. In the past, some of them created a clientage by making significant (but unwise) political choices. Ildebrando understood the importance of collaborating with laymen and chose one of them, Davizzo, as vicedomino. However, Pietro Mezzabarba turned to the district’s noble families for support. Goffredo degli Alberti was potentially able to influence the political choices of an almost independent citizenry, but he lost their favour because he was too closely tied to his rural supporters, who subsequently abandoned him.34 The bishops’ partiality for the countryside continued to be strong: in the 1230s there were many citizens among Ardingo’s fideles, but his rural clients carried more weight because they could assemble a larger army by calling up men from their fiefs.35 The communal ruling class defined and asserted itself during the 12th century. It consisted of urban families – often with eminent ancestors – who were rising to public power for the first time. During the consular period, which lasted to the end of the century, the leading group remained quite open and focused its attention on the city, neglecting the countryside 33

ASF, S. Miniato al Monte, 1247 aprile 29, 2 docs. Faini, Firenze nell’età romanica (1000-1211). L’espansione urbana, lo sviluppo istituzionale, il rapporto con il territorio, pp. 234-248. On Florentine bishops in these centuries see: Dameron, Episcopal Power and Florentine Society: 10001320. 35 Faini, Firenze nell’età romanica (1000-1211). L’espansione urbana, lo sviluppo istituzionale, il rapporto con il territorio, pp. 179-182. 34

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and its lords. But in the early 13th century, different factors (such as the growing interest in the countryside, financial arrangements with the rural lords and the fact that some of them entered the governing bodies) made the leading group more and more exclusive. A very important element in the development of Florentine politics and institutions between the 12th and 13th centuries was the rise of populares. They were a new social group more devoted to trade, manufacturing, banking and liberal arts.36 By the end of the 12th century, they were demanding a place in government alongside the milites, the consular aristocracy, who felt threatened by the claims of the populares. It was not only a matter of giving these newly rich families a voice: with their ties to the guilds, they embodied an innovative concept of politics and raised questions about the privileges of the traditional leading class. The pressures they brought created a breach in the governing class that marked the end of the 12th century and led to the clash between the Guelph and the Ghibelline factions. The populares established themselves as the city’s political leaders by taking advantage of the conflicts within the milizia. The factions prevailing at various times brought them into the government and their rise allowed the transition from the consular system to the podestà (head magistrate) and the political power of the guilds, which first represented the most important populares, and later the humbler craftsmen as well. The alliance with diocesan politics played a decisive role in the events leading to the success of the populares. During the 1220s, the political balance that had existed since the beginning of the century was upset because of wars and their associated costs, and because the economy was also in decline. The respective financial burdens fell mainly on the populares, who had been ousted from the government. They demanded an audit of the Commune’s finances and succeeded in creating a committee on which both the major and minor guilds were represented. The People were now fully represented and from that time on, they remained firmly in power. During that same period, the Florentine bishop was in conflict with the Cathedral chapter. The chapter had been in the hands of the same milizia families that governed the city and these families had also taken over the chapter’s assets. As the bishop tried to stem the canons’ abuses, he clashed with the milizia. The populares then formed an alliance with the bishop, threw the podestà out of the city in 1236 and appointed the capitanei civitates; temporary officials who remained in power until the arrival of a 36 Diacciati, “Popolo e regimi politici a Firenze nella prima metà del Duecento”, p. 64.

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new podestà who, with the agreement of the populares, launched policies that were adverse to the milizia. This pressure on the milizia worsened the situation and a real conflict broke out between the two groups, with one loyal to the pope and the other to the emperor. Thus, although Florentine politics had been influenced by loyalty –or a lack thereof– to the empire since the end of the 12th century, it is only from this point on that we can talk about Guelphs and Ghibellines. The two fought for years, with no decisive victory for either side, meanwhile, the populares continued to participate in the government. After the split within the ruling group, the Florentine Church’s position was in line with papal directives. The bishop took part in the political conflict directing his inquisitorial activities against Ghibelline heretics, whether they were milites or populares. The fact that the ecclesiastical court was interfering in the city government prompted the populares to lean towards the Ghibellines –to keep the church out of the affairs of state– and Florence came under the control of Frederick II. However, when the empire’s demands for human and financial resources became unbearable, the populares rose against the imperial forces and succeeded in establishing their own government in 1250.

3. The monastery’s interests in the countryside and its bonds with the city Although San Miniato owned property in Florence, the abbots focused their attention on their holdings in the countryside and neglected the city until the middle of the 12th century. From the beginning, they devoted their interests to their lands at Ripoli, an area located southeast of Florence towards the Chianti region, where the monastery owned the church of San Pietro a Ema.37 Important families with ties to the marquis of Tuscia, dynasties such as the Guidi and Cadolingi and the Florentine diocese, owned lands and castles there.38 The diocese was one of the most important landowners, along with some monasteries and the urban aristocracy.39 Their presence, connections and interactions made the district a place where local and supra-regional interests came together. 37 On the Ripoli district see: Alle porte di Firenze. Il territorio di Bagno a Ripoli in età medievale, ed. by Paolo Pirillo (Rome: Viella, 2008). 38 Maria Elena Cortese, “Famiglie aristocratiche nei pivieri di Ripoli, Villamagna, Antella e Impruneta (secc. XI-XII)”, Alle porte di Firenze. Il territorio di Bagno a Ripoli in età medievale, pp. 17-40. 39 Francesco Salvestrini, Santa Maria di Vallombrosa. Patrimonio e vita economica di un grande monastero medievale (Florence: Olschki, 1998);

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San Miniato’s rural base extended to possessions in the Sieve valley, centred around the castles of Montacuto, Montalto, Galiga and Monte di Croce. The Guidi counts and other lesser, but still prominent, families were strongly rooted in the area. The Da Galiga family, for example, soon became close to the monastery (to the mutual advantage of both) and then to the Guidi.40 The rise of the Da Galigas, thanks to connections with a powerful ecclesiastical institution, is a typical story; and, likewise, the monastery increased its influence over the area because the family granted it property and rights.41 One important example is the bequest Gerardo del fu Benno made to the monastery in 1113: properties in the castles of Galiga, Montalto, Monte di Croce, in the court of Santa Maria di Acone and the parish of San Gerusalemme di Acone. By the middle of the 12th century, San Miniato was firmly established in this region, thanks also to the tithes from the Doccia parish it had been granted by bishop Gottifredo in 1141, since the parish encompassed some of the most important castles in the valley, including Montalto, Galiga and Monte di Croce. The relations with the Da Galiga family included feudal land holdings, and the family is listed among the bishop’s patrons in 1231.42 In the early 13th century, some members of the leading classes in Florence turned their attention to the countryside. In this region, for example, in 1226 the Caponsacchi family acquired control over the people of Montalto and Aceraia and nine-year jurisdiction over the castles,

Francesco Salvestrini, “Proprietà della terra e dinamismo del mercato fondiario nel basso Valdarno superiore (seconda metà dell’XI-prima metà del XIII secolo). Riflessi di un’evoluzione politica e sociale”, Lontano dalle città. Il Valdarno di Sopra nei secoli XII-XIII, ed. by Giuliano Pinto and Paolo Pirillo (Rome: Viella, 2005), pp. 141-189; Francesco Salvestrini, “La proprietà fondiaria dei grandi enti ecclesiastici nella Tuscia dei secoli XI-XV. Spunti di riflessione, tentativi di interpretazione”, Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, 62 (2008), pp. 377-412. 40 Maria Elena Cortese, Signori, castelli, città. L’aristocrazia del territorio fiorentino tra X e XII secolo (Florence: Olschki, 2007), pp. 104-105. On Sieve river valley families see: Maria Elena Cortese, “Nella sfera dei Guidi: i ‘da Quona’ ed altri gruppi familiari aristocratici della bassa Val di Sieve tra XI e XII secolo”, Antica possessione con belli costumi. Due giornate di studio su Lapo da Castiglionchio “il Vecchio”, ed. by Franek Sznura (Florence: Aska Edizioni, 2005), pp. 157-172, especially, pp. 163-167. 41 Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), docs. nº 50 and 65. 42 ASF, S. Miniato al Monte, 1229 agosto 19; Faini, Firenze nell’età romanica (1000-1211). L’espansione urbana, lo sviluppo istituzionale, il rapporto con il territorio, pp. 168, 182 and 188.

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districts and people of Montalto, Galiga and Aceraia from San Miniato, which was overburdened by usurious debts.43 San Miniato had possessions in other areas as well, but they are not relevant to this discussion. However, we must note that from the middle of the 12th century on, the abbots focused their attention on an area very near the city. Immigration from the countryside was so massive that some intervention was needed, so the monks promoted the settlement of the area between the San Miniato hill and the Arno, granting plots of land near the city. Although the monastery had owned lands since 1018, there are only a few references prior to 1164; the year in which the church of San Niccolò is first mentioned. The establishment of that church is associated with the marked population increase in the 1170s that also led to the construction of new city walls. The immigrants came to Florence attracted by the possibility of finding jobs, or, sometimes following the country landowners.44 Other religious institutions also promoted settlements on suburban lands they owned.45 They were not interested in what we would call property speculation today, but rather in attracting large numbers of people who could be bound to them through different interests and rights, including the spiritual, of course.46 The urbanisation of rural areas near the city walls culminated with the foundation of new suburban churches and parishes, later encompassed within the walls erected between 1172 and 1175. Religious institutions, such as monasteries, were forbidden from being directly involved in the spiritual lives of the faithful, but they managed to get around the rules and control the parishes through priests. As opposed to other organisations, San Miniato had strained relations with both the people of San Niccolò and the area’s landowners, who did not belong to the parish.

43

ASF, S. Miniato al Monte, 1226 settembre 1. Enrico Faini, “Da Bagno a Ripoli a Firenze (e ritorno)”, Alle porte di Firenze. Il territorio di Bagno a Ripoli in età medievale, pp. 41-56, especially, pp. 52-55. 45 Faini, Firenze nell’età romanica (1000-1211). L’espansione urbana, lo sviluppo istituzionale, il rapporto con il territorio, pp. 39-45. See also: Emiliano Scampoli, Firenze, archeologia di una città (secoli I a.C.-XIII d.C.) (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2010), p. 190; Franek Sznura, L’espansione urbana di Firenze nel Dugento (Florence: La Nuova Italia, 1975). On the phenomenon in other parts of Italy see: Gregorio Penco, “Monasteri e comuni cittadini: un tema storiografico”, Benedictina, 43 (1996), pp. 117-133. 46 Faini, Firenze nell’età romanica (1000-1211). L’espansione urbana, lo sviluppo istituzionale, il rapporto con il territorio, pp. 82-84. 44

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The members of the San Niccolò parish wanted a greater voice in decisions concerning common property, and yet, they were even denied the right to burial in their church. The abbots exercised tight control over all aspects of the community’s life, with attitudes similar to those of the country lords, and thereby prevented any individual or family from gaining prominence.47 In their day-to-day administration, the abbots were helped by men they trusted from the monastery, but who were outsiders for the community. Landholders, although eminent and linked to the monastery for financial reasons and who probably participated in building the church, were not involved in the administration of San Niccolò, and when conflicting interests began to create troubles for the monks, they were promptly set aside. Finally, the people of the parish rarely held positions of trust, even on issues of local interest. They were newcomers, and although they were not poor, they were not rich and did not have the connections to help them advance socially outside the monastic entourage. Probably, the monks were their only contacts, so they could not assert themselves without support from the abbots. Therefore, it is no accident that the social structure of the parish remained homogeneous for several decades.

4. The Consular Commune, the Podestà and San Miniato We have seen that in Florence the process leading to political and institutional autonomy that had its beginnings in the early 12th century did not develop under the bishop’s leadership. The ruling class, which had freed itself from the bishop’s supervision, soon took control of the city’s religious institutions. For quite some time, the aristocratic families of the consulate had been placing their members in the cathedral Chapter and the most important monasteries, while the wealthy Merchants’ Guild, known as Arte di Calimala, gave its support and patronage to the Opera del Battistero [the construction of the Baptistery] that was dedicated to St. John the Baptist. In the early 13th century –or quite likely even earlier– the Calimala Guild consuls were also directing the Opera di San Miniato [the construction of the church of San Miniato], in close collaboration with the abbot. The Opera is first mentioned 1180,48 the period from when the 47

Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), doc. nº 87. On the urbanisation of the S. Niccolò parish see: Giovanni Fanelli, Firenze (RomeBari: Laterza, 1997), p. 30. 48 Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), doc. nº 109.

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monastery’s documents began to show signs of indebtedness. The monastery’s debts, to the consular aristocrats and to the city’s elite bankers and merchants, would increase over the coming decades. The name of Gianni della Filippa appeared in San Miniato documents in the late 1160s. He was an authoritative member of the consular government, and for many decades he exercised a sort of control of the monastery’s finances.49 He participated in all of the most important transactions involving the monastery, sometimes with special powers;50 and in his role as a judicial official, he contributed to passing sentences favourable to the monastery on at least two occasions.51 Even if religious institutions were indebted to the ruling class families, and even if those families participated in the administration of those institutions, we must not be misled into thinking that the ruling class was able to control the Church in Florence. That their relationships were very complex and unsettled is evident from a quarrel that arose concerning their joint management of the Opera di San Miniato. In May 1228, the abbot and Calimala consuls met in the monastery cloister, where they agreed to abide by the decision of magister Buonsignore, a prelate chosen to settle the matter of their respective prerogatives and rights. Buonsignore said that the management of the Opera and the monastery’s respective assets had to be separate; he granted the abbot significant power in choosing the council members and gave the consuls the right to participate in the financial management of the Opera, flanking the abbot who was to make all non-financial decisions. It is interesting to take a look at both the social make-up of the Calimala consuls of the day, and the arbitrator’s life. One of the consuls was a member of an important family and a client of the bishop. Another belonged to a common family from Ripoli that had recently made its fortune through trade and moneylending; especially to ecclesiastical institutions.52 A third was one of the Commune councillors in 1234.53 As 49

He is first mentioned in 1168: Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), doc. nº 93; see: Enrico Faini, Uomini e famiglie nella Firenze consolare, , p. 23. After his death, his son Bernardo took over his position at San Miniato. 50 ASF, S. Miniato al Monte, 1207 Febbraio 9 [1208]. 51 Le carte del monastero di San Miniato al Monte (secoli IX-XII), docs. nº 115 and 118. 52 At that time the Chiermontesi family had a good social standing, but it was not yet well established in the ruling group: Faini, Uomini e famiglie nella Firenze consolare, p. 19; Diacciati, “Popolo e regimi politici a Firenze nella prima metà del Duecento”, p. 45.

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to the witnesses, three of the four were connected to the monastery, the fourth was probably the first consul’s brother. The arbitrator, the archpriest Buonsignore, later became one of the leaders of the opposition to the imperial domination in the clash that erupted in Florence two decades later.54 A hypothesis has been suggested that the monks built the magnificent basilica to promote the worship of their saint and make him credible as the patron of the city.55 This is an interesting theory, and should be studied as we acquire more knowledge about the relationships between the bishop and the chapter. In any case, even if that was the aim of the monks, they failed to achieve it, and St. John the Baptist, already protector of the merchants’ guild, became the patron saint of Florence. According to recent studies, construction work on the Baptistery began in the early 12th century, sponsored by the merchants’ guild. The guild had business contacts with Pisa, and it seems that they drew their inspiration from the local cathedral, which, in turn had been influenced by Islamic art.56 We know that the church of San Miniato was built well before Florentine merchants were associated with its management, even though some of the architectural and decorative features seem to be inspired by the Florentine Baptistery. Unfortunately, there is no documented information about the building of San Miniato. We know nothing about the circumstances, expenses, sponsors or workers, and the little we do know is based on assumptions by scholars of Romanesque art who have made comparisons with contemporary buildings. All that remains is the name of the metricus et judex Giuseppe carved into the dedicatory inscription on the floor (1207) with its pattern inspired by Islamic textiles.57 53

Silvia Diacciati, “Consiglieri e consigli del Comune di Firenze nel Duecento. A proposito di alcune liste inedite”, Annali di Storia di Firenze, 3 (2008), pp. 217243, especially, p. 229. The fourth consul is not identified yet but he probably had the same social profile. 54 Norbert Kamp, “Caracciolo, Landolfo (Landulfus Caraczulus de Neapoli)”, Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 19 (1976), pp. 405-406. 55 Scott B. Montgomery, “‘Quia venerabile corpus redicti martyris ibi repositum’: Image and Relic in the Decorative Program of San Miniato al Monte”, Images, Relics, and Devotional Practices in Medieval and Renaissance Italy, ed. by Samuel J. Cornelison and Scott B. Montgomery (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2006), pp. 7-25. 56 Tigler, Toscana romanica, pp. 142-143, 144 and 163. 57 We probably will never discover who he was, but he certainly was not Giuseppe the abbot of San Miniato (appointed in 1210), as Renzo Manetti claims on the basis of the mistaken belief that the name Giuseppe was completely absent from contemporary Florentine sources: Renzo Manetti, “Simboli e geometria sacra nella

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Conclusions From the time San Miniato was established a power base for Florentine bishops, Ildebrando and his immediate successors granted it privileges and donations. Those were the years in which the monastery reached the peak of its splendour and work began on the magnificent basilica. The bishop was still central to the city’s life; ‘his’ monastery was a very important religious and cultural reference point, and played an essential role in developing and managing the symbols of civic identity. At the same time, San Miniato effectively protected the diocese’s interests in the countryside, helped assert the bishops’ power and prestige and served as a hub for the clients and patrons the bishops acquired among the rural lords. From the second half of the 11th century forward, when Pietro Mezzabarba and especially Ranieri were the bishops, there was a certain break in the contacts between the prelates and the monastery, and the period of favours and donations seems to have ended. The situation changed at the beginning of the 13th century: documents again speak of resumed relations between the monastery and its patrons after more than half a century, but the context was ridden with conflict. The monks demanded more autonomy, and tried several times to choose their own abbot, while the bishops did not waive their right to make the appointments, even excommunicated the monks. Clearly, harmony was lost. Florentine society, and its political and institutional life, were developing rapidly at the turn of the 12th and 13th centuries. The bishops had missed their chance to assert themselves as political leaders, while the most powerful families were already able to promote self-government by adopting new political and institutional approaches. While the urban aristocracy fought for political control, the new classes that were rising through trade and manufacturing demanded a place in the city government. Their claims would upset the equilibrium and provoke open civil conflict in the middle of the 13th century. At the end of the 12th century, there was still a place for the newly established families in Florentine political life. Many members of the ruling class, who engaged in lending money and trade, were creditors of the most important religious institutions, while the Calimala Guild, that represented the most powerful families in the city, controlled the most important religious public works: the Baptistery and the church of San basilica di San Miniato al Monte”, Dieci secoli per la basilica di San Miniato al Monte, ed. by Francesco Gurrieri and Renzo Manetti (Florence: Polistampa, 2007), pp. 29-47, especially, p. 41.

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Miniato. In the monastery’s papers from the period, we begin to see the names of the members of the ruling class: some of them exerted some control over its finances, others were its creditors. It would be incorrect to assume that the bishops and religious institutions became less important with the birth of the Commune. The factors that had shaped Florentine society up to that moment had changed: the emergence of new political subjects and power bases caused shifts in the internal balance. Inevitably the bishops’ importance and their roles were going to be scaled down. Bishops were still the primary religious reference point and they maintained their political significance in the city and throughout Italy.58 Furthermore, the bishop’s actions were fundamental in defining the political alignments that led the people to power, and in the political struggles in which they supported the Guelphs through inquisitorial actions flanked by the Dominicans and with the cooperation of the abbot of San Miniato. Even though the bishopric and San Miniato maintained key positions in Florentine life, they were no longer the main political and cultural reference points. The new political and economic leaders developed the emblems of the new civic identity that they were building, and even took over the religious symbols that had represented it up to that moment.59 So it is not surprising that the same Florentines who controlled the city’s politics and the finances of the religious institutions, and who created and handed down their historical memory60 also contributed to the construction and decoration of the church of San Miniato al Monte and the Baptistery.

58

It is sufficient to mention the part Giovanni da Velletri played in Tuscany as a confidant of Pope Innocent III and the advantages this brought to Florence: Sergio Raveggi, “Giovanni da Velletri”, Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 56 (2001), pp. 250-253. 59 Anna Benvenuti, “Da San Salvatore a Santa Maria del Fiore: itinerario di una cattedrale”, Studi medievali, 36 (1995), pp. 111-150. 60 Enrico Faini, “Una storia senza nomi. Storia e memoria a Firenze ai primi del Duecento”, Bullettino dell’Istituto storico italiano per il Medio Evo, 108 (2006), pp. 39-82.

RELIGIOUS ORDERS AND CITIES IN MEDIEVAL TUSCANY (10TH TO 14TH CENTURIES) FRANCESCO SALVESTRINI UNIVERSITÀ DEGLI STUDI DI FIRENZE

Medieval Tuscany was a land of cities. Accordingly, a large number of its religious institutions and many regular communities were located in urban contexts, and it is there that they developed over the centuries. Therefore, this part of Central Italy is one of the most interesting laboratories for studying the relations between Monasticism and built-up areas. Although these connections may appear essentially antinomian, given the Benedictines’ vocation for seeking the spiritual and natural desert, they are actually a topic of great interest for their religious, social and economic implications.1 In fact, Black Benedictines, Cistercians and hermits included in regular Orders (eremiti regulares such as the 1 On urban Monasticism in Medieval Italy, see: Gregorio Penco, “Un aspetto della società medievale italiana: il rapporto monasteri-città”, Benedictina, 26 (1979), pp. 1-17; Francesca Bocchi, “Monasteri, canoniche e strutture urbane in Italia”, Istituzioni monastiche e istituzioni canonicali in Occidente (1123-1215) (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1980), pp. 265-313; Gregorio Penco, “Monasteri e comuni cittadini: un tema storiografico”, Benedictina, 43 (1996), pp. 117-133; Giancarlo Benevolo, “Aspetti e problemi della presenza monastica nella società urbana (sec. IV-XII)”, Le vie europee dei monaci. Civiltà monastiche tra Occidente e Oriente (Verona: Il Segno, 1998), pp. 17-30; Cécile Caby, “Les implantations urbaines des ordres religieux dans l’Italie médiévale. Bilan et propositions de recherche”, Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa, 35 (1999), pp. 151-179; Rolando Dondarini, “I monaci e la città nel medioevo italiano. Tendenze e sviluppi di un rapporto tra antitesi e simbiosi”, Atti e Memorie della Deputazione Provinciale Ferrarese di Storia Patria, 17 (2000), pp. 27-67; Francesco Salvestrini, “La più recente storiografia sul monachesimo italiano medievale (ca. 1984-2004)”, Benedictina, 53 (2006), pp. 435-515, especially, pp. 451, 499-501; Paolo Grillo, Monaci e città. Comuni urbani e abbazie cistercensi nell’Italia nord-occidentale (Secoli XII-XIV) (Milan: Biblioteca Francescana, 2008); Gregorio Penco, “Monastri e città nell’Italia del Cinquecento”, Benedictina 55 (2008), pp. 263-296.

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Carthusian and Camaldolese) often settled in the countryside and woodlands, but they kept some dependencies, churches and properties in cities and suburbs.2 On the other hand, many Tuscan monasteries were built in major and minor towns and formed an important reference for the urban patriciate. Finally, most of the female cloisters established during the 13th and 14th centuries were in urban settlements.3 In the Early Middle Ages (6th to 11th centuries), Benedictine Monasticism, especially following the Cluniac Reform, had a limited presence in Tuscany.4 Apart from the important monasteries of Abbadia San Salvatore on Monte Amiata (in the south-east part of the region) – built during the first half of the 8th century on a mountain near the border of the Church lands (Patrimonum Sancti Petri in Tuscia)5 – and Sant’Antimo, near Siena,6 some of the most important and richest foundations of the late Lombard and Carolingian periods were established 2 Francesco Salvestrini, “Proprietà della terra e dinamismo del mercato fondiario nel basso Valdarno superiore (seconda metà dell’XI-prima metà del XIII secolo). Riflessi di un’evoluzione politica e sociale”, Lontano dalle città. Il Valdarno di Sopra nei secoli XII-XIII, ed. by Giuliano Pinto and P. Pirillo (Rome: Viella, 2005), pp. 141-189; Francesco Salvestrini, “I Cistercensi nella Tuscia del secolo XIII. Le modalità di un inizio, le ragioni di un ritardo”, Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 110 (2008), pp. 197-236; Francesco Salvestrini, “La proprietà fondiaria dei grandi enti ecclesiastici nella Tuscia dei secoli XI-XV. Spunti di riflessione, tentativi di interpretazione”, Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, 62 (2008), pp. 377-412; Francesco Salvestrini, “Forme della presenza benedettina nelle città comunali italiane: gli insediamenti vallombrosani a Firenze tra XI e XV secolo”, Espaces monastiques et espaces urbains de l’Antiquité tardive à la fin du Moyen Âge, ed. by Cécile Caby, forthcoming in Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome. For a general repertoire see: Histoire des moines, chanoines et religieux au Moyen Âge. Guide de recherche et documents, ed. by André Vauchez and Cécile Caby (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003). 3 Piero Roselli and Osanna Fantozzi Micali, Itinerari della memoria. Badie, conventi e monasteri della Toscana (province di Firenze, Pisa, Pistoia, Siena) (Florence: Alinea, 1987); La soppressione degli enti ecclesiastici in Toscana. Secoli XVIII-XIX. Censimento dei conventi e dei monasteri soppressi in età leopoldina, ed. by Anna Benvenuti (Florence: Regione Toscana, 2008). 4 See: L’Italia nel quadro dell’espansione europea del monachesimo cluniacense, ed. by Cinzio Violante, Amleto Spicciani and Giovanni Spinelli (Cesena: Centro Storico Benedettino italiano, 1985). 5 Wilhelm Kurze, Monasteri e nobiltà nel Senese e nella Toscana medievale. Studi diplomatici, archeologici, genealogici, giuridici e sociali (Siena: Accademia Senese degli Intronati, 1989), pp. 339-356. 6 Nuove ricerche su Sant’Antimo, ed. by Adriano Peroni and Grazia Tucci (Florence: Alinea, 2008).

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in or around cities, such as; Lucca (monastery of San Frediano, ca. 680),7 Siena (monastery of Sant’Eugenio, early 8th century),8 and Pistoia (monastery of San Bartolomeo, first half of the 8th century).9 From the 9th to the 10th century, urban noblemen and landlords founded several monasteries as private settlements (Eigenklöster). However, at the time of the Marquis Hugh of Tuscia (953/54-1001) the erection or endowment of Benedictine communities assumed institutional and eminently ‘public’ connotations, which particularly marked the urban environment. This is the case of the so-called Badia Fiorentina (Santa Maria, in Florence), built by the Marchional family in 978 in the heart of the city, and chosen by the lord of the region as his burial place.10 Monasticism in Tuscany acquired new importance during the early decades of the 11th century, at the time of the so called ‘Gregorian’ reform of the Church, when the region became the centre of significant phenomena, like the birth of religious movements such as the Camaldolese and the Vallumbrosan orders. Tuscany gave the Church the reformist popes Nicholas II (1058-61) and Alexander II (1061-73),11 and felt the actions of bishops who early on promoted communal life for the clergy in 7

Codice Diplomatico Longobardo, ed. by Luigi Schiaparelli (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano, 1929), I, pp. 16-19 (doc. nº 7). 8 The first community in Italy for which a benefactor, in 730, wrote that monks had to be ruled by Saint Benedict’s Regula (Codice Diplomatico Longobardo), p. 166 (doc. nº 50). 9 Mario Bruschi, Il complesso abbaziale di S. Bartolomeo in Pistoia (Pistoia: ECOP, 1981); Francesco Salvestrini, “Gli Ordini religiosi a Pistoia in età precomunale e comunale”, La Pistoia comunale nel contesto toscano ed europeo (secoli XIII-XIV), ed. by Piero Gualtieri (Pistoia: Società Pistoiese di Storia Patria, 2008), pp. 241-270, especially, pp. 244-245. On the period see: M. De Jong and P. Erhart, “Monachesimo tra i Longobardi e i Carolingi”, Il futuro dei Longobardi. L’Italia e la costruzione dell’Europa di Carlo Magno. Saggi, ed. by Carlo Bertelli and Gian Pietro Brogiolo (Milan: Skira, 2000), pp. 105-127; Mariano dell’Omo, Storia del monachesimo occidentale dal Medioevo all’età contemporanea. Il carisma di san Benedetto tra VI e XX secolo (Milan: Jaca Book, 2011), pp. 62-84. 10 Le carte del monastero di S. Maria di Firenze (Badia), I (sec. X-XI), ed. by Luigi Schiaparelli, reprint by Francesco Baldasseroni and Raffaele Ciasca (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1990), pp. 10-17 (doc. nº 5); Ernesto Sestan, Maurilio Adriani and Alessandro Guidotti, La Badia fiorentina (Florence: Becocci, 1982). 11 Annamaria Ambrosioni, “Niccolò II”, Enciclopedia dei papi, 3 vols. (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 2008), II, pp. 172-178; Cinzio Violante, Alessandro II, ivi, pp. 178-185; Amleto Spicciani, Benefici livelli feudi. Intreccio di rapporti tra chierici e laici nella Tuscia medioevale. La creazione di una società politica (Pisa: ETS, 1996), pp. 125-138.

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Lucca, Pistoia and Siena, to give just a few examples.12 Tuscany was the birthplace of the hermitic obedience of Camaldoli and its dependant foundations, as well as the coenobitic Order of Vallombrosa founded by John Gualberto, who led the fight against Simony, Nicolaitism and corruption among the clergy in Florence. These experiences of ‘new’ Monasticism, which initially claimed territories in the dioceses of Florence, Fiesole and Arezzo, placed Tuscia as the vanguard of Church reformation, in close connection with Pataria riots that broke out in Lombardy.13 During this peculiar period, irregular hermits also flourished 12

Martino Giusti, “Notizie sulle canoniche lucchesi”, La vita comune del clero nei secoli XI e XII, 2 vols. (Milano: Vita e Pensiero, 1962), I, pp. 434-454; Yoram Milo, “From Imperial Hegemony to the Commune: Reform in Pistoia’s Cathedral Chapter and its Political Impact”, Istituzioni Ecclesiastiche della Toscana Medioevale (Galatina: Congedo, 1980), pp. 87-107; Hansmartin Schwarzmaier, “Riforma monastica e movimenti religiosi a Lucca alla fine del secolo XI”, Lucca, il Volto Santo e la cività medioevale (Lucca: Pacini Fazzi, 1984), pp. 71-94; Cosimo Damiano Fonseca, “Il Capitolo di S. Martino e la riforma canonicale nella seconda metà del sec. XI”, Sant’Anselmo vescovo di Lucca (1073-1086) nel quadro delle trasformazioni sociali e della riforma ecclesiastica, ed. by Cinzio Violante (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1992), pp. 51-64; Raffaele Savigni, Episcopato e società cittadina a Lucca da Anselmo II (†1086) a Roberto (†1225) (Lucca: Accademia Lucchese di Scienze, Lettere e Arti, 1996); Michele Pellegrini, Chiesa e città, Uomini, comunità e istituzioni nella società senese del XII e XIII secolo (Rome: Herder, 2004), p. 7; Il patrimonio documentario della chiesa di Lucca. Prospettive di ricerca, ed. by Sergio Pagano and Pierantonio Piatti (Florence: Sismel, 2010). 13 Giovanni Miccoli, Pietro Igneo. Studi sull’età gregoriana (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1960); Kurze, Monasteri e nobiltà nel Senese e nella Toscana medievale. Studi diplomatici, archeologici, genealogici, giuridici e sociali, pp. 243-274; Paolo Golinelli, “Indiscreta Sanctitas”. Studi sui rapporti tra culti, poteri e società nel pieno Medioevo (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1988), pp. 157-191; Mauro Ronzani, “Il monachesimo toscano del secolo XI: note storiografiche e proposte di ricerca”, Guido d’Arezzo monaco pomposiano, ed. by Angelo Rusconi (Florence: Olschki, 2000), pp. 21-53; Nicolangelo d’Acunto, “Il monachesimo nel regno italico al tempo di Ottone III tra protagonismo spirituale e contesti istituzionali: alcune esperienze a confronto”, Il monachesimo italiano dall’età longobarda all’età ottoniana (secc. VIII-X), ed. by Giovanni Spinelli (Cesena: Centro Storico Benedettino Italiano, 2006), pp. 273294, especially, pp. 282-285 and 288-292; Francesco Salvestrini, “Disciplina caritatis”. Il monachesimo vallombrosano tra medioevo e prima età moderna (Rome: Viella, 2008), pp. 9-11 and 184-186; Francesco Salvestrini, “Il monachesimo vallombrosano in Lombardia. Storia di una presenza e di una plurisecolare interazione”, I Vallombrosani in Lombardia (XI-XVIII secolo), ed. by Francesco Salvestrini (Milan-Lecco: Regione Lombardia, 2011), pp. 3-51,

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in cities. A case was Teuzzone, a special example of an urban anchorite living in a cell at the Badia Fiorentina.14 To return to the Coenobites, we can add that representatives of regular communities rarely respected their vow of stability (stabilitas loci). Monks often moved from their cloisters to rural settlements or towns, both for religious and commercial reasons.15 In fact, their monasteries provided the markets of Lucca, Pisa, Pistoia, Florence, Siena, Volterra and other towns with important supplies; monks often took on the duties of priests and preachers in secular churches.16 As we noted earlier, the relations between towns and nunneries deserve special mention. Nuns, in fact, needed priests for the divine office, and they claimed the protection due to unmarried women. Furthermore, their conventual communities always enjoyed both the support of the most eminent citizens and the protection of kith and kin. Families used to place their young daughters or widows in cloisters, knowing that they could interfere to a greater extent in nunneries’ affairs – since female communities were subject to episcopal jurisdiction – than in powerful and independent male congregations. For centuries, copying manuscripts, manufacturing goods and charitable works underscored the discreet but important

especially, pp. 5-23. See also: Enrico Faini, Firenze nell’età romanica (10001211). L’espansione urbana, lo sviluppo istituzionale, il rapporto con il territorio (Florence: Olschki, 2010), pp. 238-243. 14 Kathleen Grace Cushing, “Of Locustae and Dangerous Men: Peter Damian, the Vallombrosans, and Eleventh-century Reform”, Church History, 74 (2005), pp. 740-757; Umberto Longo, “Pier Damiani versus Teuzone: due concezioni sull’eremitismo a confronto”, Monaci, ebrei, santi. Studi per Sofia Boesch Gajano, ed. by Antonio Volpato (Rome: Viella, 2008), pp. 63-77. 15 On this question see: Mariano dell’Omo, “La ‘stabilitas loci’ benedettina nella storia monastica (dall’alto medioevo all’età contemporanea)”, La stabilità nella vita monastica, ed. by Adalberto Piovano, Lorenzo Sena and Mariano Dell’Omo (Noci: Le Scale, 2009), pp. 119-172. 16 Gabriella Piccinni, “Seminare, fruttare, raccogliere”. Mezzadri e salariati sulle terre di Monte Oliveto Maggiore (1374-1430) (Milan: Feltrinelli, 1982); Alberto Maria Onori, L’Abbazia di San Salvatore a Sesto e il Lago di Bientina. Una signoria ecclesiastica, 1250/1300 (Florence: Salimbeni, 1984), pp. 55-68; Grado Giovanni Merlo, “Le riforme monastiche e la ‘vita apostolica’”, Storia dell’Italia religiosa. I. L’Antichità e il Medioevo, ed. by André Vauchez (Rome-Bari: Laterza, 1993), pp. 271-291, especially, pp. 275, 282-285; Francesco Salvestrini, Santa Maria di Vallombrosa. Patrimonio e vita economica di un grande monastero medievale (Florence: Olschki, 1998), pp. 242-261.

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contribution these religious women made to the development of urban centres.17 Some scholars point out that the congregational structure of the Vallumbrosan Order anticipated and influenced the first definition of the Cistercian experience, for example in the structure of the General Chapter of abbots, the role of lay brothers (conversi), and the disciplinary visitations of monasteries.18 It is not easy to prove this assumption through contemporary sources. It seems certain, instead, that the presence of indigenous traditions of the Benedictine reformation (that is Vallumbrosans, Camaldoleses, and hermits living in less populated southern parts of the region, like the Guglielmites of Maremma)19 significantly slowed the spread of the Cistercians within the region’s borders during the 12th century.20 It should be noted, in fact, that the first permanent settlement of White Monks in Tuscia – that is the foundation of San Galgano, in the countryside near Siena (1201-03) – dates from the beginning of the 13th century. In any case, even the brothers of St. Bernard, although mainly located in rural areas, quickly forged relations with the urban environment, as borne out by the monks of San Galgano, who became chamberlains, officers and superintendents of public works for the municipality of Siena; or by the monks of Badia a Settimo (daughter-abbey of San Galgano) in similar relations with the nearby city of Florence.21 The Carthusians, 17

See: Anna Benvenuti, ‘In castro poenitentiae’. Santità e società femminile nell’Italia medievale (Rome: Herder, 1990), pp. 119-140 and 531-634; Francesco Salvestrini, “‘Furti’ di identità e ambigue semantizzazioni agiografiche. Verdiana da Castelfiorentino santa vallombrosana”, Hagiologica. Studi per Réginald Grégoire, ed. by Alessandra Bartolomei Romagnoli, Ugo Paoli and Pierantonio Piatti, forthcoming. 18 On the question see: Salvestrini, “Disciplina caritatis”, pp. 159-160 and 251-257. 19 On which, Salvestrini, “Disciplina caritatis”; Cécile Caby, De l’érémitisme rural au monachisme urbain. Les Camaldules en Italie à la fin du Moyen Âge (RomeParis: École Française de Rome, 1999); Kaspar Elm, Beiträge zur Geschichte des Wilhelmitenordens (Cologne-Graz: Bölhau, 1962); Odile Redon, “À la recherche en Maremme du saint ermite Guillaume”, Ermites de France et d’Italie, ed. by André Vauchez (Rome: École Française de Rome, 2003), pp. 299-314. On Tuscan hermitism see also: Santità ed eremitismo nella Toscana medievale, ed. by Alessandra Gianni (Siena: Cantagalli, 2000); Anna Benvenuti, “La civiltà urbana”, Storia della santità nel cristianesimo occidentale (Roma: Viella, 2005), pp. 157221, especially, pp. 172-173. 20 Salvestrini, “I Cistercensi nella Tuscia del secolo XIII. Le modalità di un inizio, le ragioni di un ritardo”. 21 Paolo Pirillo, “Il fiume come investimento: i mulini e i porti sull’Arno della Badia a Settimo (secc. XIII-XIV)”, Rivista di Storia dell’Agricoltura, 29 (1989),

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whose development close to Tuscan cities (Pisa, Florence, Lucca and Siena) dates back to the 14th century – the period that saw the growth of the Tuscan Monasticism of the Olivetans – also followed a similar pattern.22 However, at the beginning of the 13th century, the blurring of memories connected to the fight for Church reforms, and the relatively minor role the Cistercians played in the development of religious consciousness among Tuscany’s citizens – and particularly the lower classes – opened the way for a massive penetration of the latest Benedictine reforms23 and Mendicant Orders in all the main cities and many smaller towns.24 Religious life in the cities and countryside of Tuscany during the pp. 19-43; Paolo Pirillo, “I Cistercensi e il Comune di Firenze (secoli XIII-XIV)”, Studi Storici, 40 (1999), pp. 395-405; Frances Andrews, “Monastic Observance and Communal Life: Siena and the Employment of Religious”, Pope, Church and City. Essays in Honour of Brenda M. Bolton, ed. by Frances Andrews, Christoph Egger and Constance M. Rousseau (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2004), pp. 357-383. 22 Pietro Lazzarini, La Certosa di Farneta (Lucca: S. Marco, 1975); Maria Adriana Giusti and Maria Teresa Lazzarini, La Certosa di Pisa a Calci (Pisa: Pacini, 1993); Caterina Chiarelli, Le attività artistiche e il patrimonio librario della Certosa di Firenze (dalle origini alla metà del XVI secolo), 2 vols. (Florence and Salzburg: ABC, 1984); Giovanni Leoncini, Le grange della Certosa di Firenze (Florence: Salimbeni, 1991); Giorgio Picasso, Tra umanesimo e ‘Devotio’. Studi di storia monastica raccolti per il 50° di professione dell’Autore, ed. by Giancarlo Andenna, Giuseppe Motta and Mauro Tagliabue (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1999); Giorgio Picasso, “La congregazione di Monte Oliveto nell’ ‘Ordo Sancti Benedicti’”, Il monachesimo italiano nel secolo della grande crisi, ed. by Giorgio Picasso and Mauro Tagliabue (Cesena: Centro Storico Benedettino Italiano, 2004), pp. 61-77; Valerio Cattana, Momenti di storia e spiritualità olivetana (secoli XIVXX), ed. by Mauro Tagliabue (Cesena: Badia di Santa Maria del Monte, 2007), pp. 101-128 and 139-150. 23 As, for example, in Florence, the Umiliati, 1251, and the Silvestrini, 1299: Isabella Gagliardi, “Firenze e gli eredi spirituali di Silvestro Guzzolini: tracce per una storia dell’insediamento silvestrino di San Marco (1299-1436)”, Silvestro Guzzolini e la sua congregazione monastica, ed. by Ugo Paoli (Fabriano: Bibliotheca Montisfani, 2001), pp. 169-201, especially p. 188; Anna Benvenuti, “Una storia in sordina: gli Umiliati a Firenze”, “Ubi neque aerugo neque tinea demolitur”. Studi in onore di Luigi Pellegrini per i suoi settanta anni, ed. by Maria Grazia Del Fuoco (Naples: Liguori, 2006), pp. 41-52. 24 Luigi Pellegrini, Insediamenti francescani nell’Italia del Duecento (Rome: Laurentianum, 1984), p. 114; La presenza francescana nella Toscana del ‘200 (Florence: Convento di S. Francesco, 1990); Anna Benvenuti, “Ordini mendicanti in Toscana (secc. XIII-XV): un problema ancora aperto”, Gli Ordini Mendicanti a Pistoia (secc. XIII-XV), ed. by Renzo Nelli (Pistoia: Società Pistoiese di Storia Patria, 2001), pp. 1-29; André Vauchez, Francesco d’Assisi e gli Ordini

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Communal period was profoundly influenced by the presence of the two major familiae (the Franciscans and the Dominicans), the emergence and wider diffusion of local experiences, like those of the Servite Friars (Ordo Servorum Beatae Mariae Virginis),25 the arrival of Carmelites and the Saccati (a French branch of the Augustinian obedience born around 1248 and suppressed in 1274),26 and finally, the hermitical communities that developed in Central Italy and which gave rise to the Augustinian Order (Ordo Eremitarum sancti Augustini) in 1256.27 Mendicant religiosi novi were active preachers.28 We can mention the example of the Dominican Peter the Martyr, who led the struggle against the Cathars in Florence during the 1240s.29 The friars’ homiletics also played an important role in the defence of orthodoxy and in the struggle against social ‘plagues’ such as usury or sexual deviations, which, in the opinion of religious men, were produced by urban development.30 mendicanti (Assisi: Ed. Porziuncola, 2005), pp. 167-88; Salvestrini, “Gli Ordini religiosi a Pistoia in età precomunale e comunale”, pp. 256-270. 25 On which Franco Andrea dal Pino, I frati Servi di S. Maria dalle origini all’approvazione (1233 ca.-1304) (Louvain: Publications Universitaires, 1972); L’Ordine dei Servi di Maria nel primo secolo di vita (Florence: Convento della SS. Annunziata, 1988); Andrea dal Pino, Spazi e figure lungo la storia dei Servi di Santa Maria (secoli XIII-XX) (Rome: Herder, 1997), pp. 3-157. 26 Richard W. Emery, “The Friars of the Sack”, Speculum, 18 (1943), pp. 323-334; Robert I. Burns, “Frati della Penitenza di Gesù Cristo”, Dizionario degli Istituti di Perfezione, ed. by Guerrino Pelliccia and Giancarlo Rocca (Roma: Ed. Paoline, 1980), VI, coll. 1398-1403. 27 Anna Benvenuti, Isabella Gagliardi and Pierantonio Piatti, “Il contributo degli eremiti della Tuscia («I Toscani») allo sviluppo dell’Ordine di S. Agostino”, Analecta Augustiniana, 70 (2007), pp. 549-570. 28 See, for an introduction: Roberto Rusconi, Predicazione e vita religiosa nella società italiana da Carlo Magno alla controriforma (Rome: Loescher, 1981), pp. 114-124. 29 See, for the cult of the saint: Grado Giovanni Merlo, “Pietro da Verona - S. Pietro martire. Difficoltà e proposte per lo studio di un inquisitore beatificato”, Culto dei santi, istituzioni e classi sociali in età preindustriale, ed. by Sofia Boesch Gajano and Lucia Sebastiani (L’Aquila-Rome: Japadre, 1984), pp. 471-488. 30 See: Carlo Delcorno, Giordano da Pisa e l’antica predicazione volgare (Firenze: Olschki, 1975); Carlo Delcorno, “Predicazione volgare e volgarizzamenti”, Les Ordres Mendiants et la ville en Italie centrale (v. 1220-v. 1350), Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome. Moyen Âge-Temps modernes, 89 (1977), II, pp. 679689; Giulia Barone, “L’Ordine dei Predicatori e le città. Teologia e politica nel pensiero e nell’azione dei Predicatori”, ivi, pp. 609-618; Anna Benvenuti, “I culti patronali tra memoria ecclesiastica e costruzione dell’identità civica: l’esempio di Firenze”, La religion civique à l’époque médiévale et moderne (Chrétienté et

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As is widely known, Mendicants largely influenced new models of holiness.31 They organised lay people in a capillary confraternal system (laudesi, disciplinati, and finally Third Orders),32 with special attention paid to forms of female devotion and religious experiences, such as the voluntary seclusion of women.33 Friars promoted the cult of the Passion of Christ, laying the basis for the movement of Flagellanti.34 They often joined or replaced Cistercians or Vallumbrosans in public offices in Communal cities, decisively influencing town planning and architecture.35 Islam), ed. by André Vauchez (Rome: École Française de Rome, 1995), pp. 99118, especially, p. 114. 31 See: André Vauchez, Esperienze religiose nel Medioevo (Rome: Viella, 2003), pp. 15-50; André Vauchez, “La commune de Sienne, les Ordres Mendiants et le culte des saints. Histoire et enseignement d’une crise (novembre 1328-avril 1329)”, Les Ordres Mendiants et la ville en Italie centrale (v. 1220-v. 1350), pp. 757-767; Vauchez, Francesco d’Assisi e gli Ordini mendicanti, pp. 195-249. 32 Mariano da Firenze, Il Trattato del Terz’Ordine o vero «Libro come Santo Francesco istituì et ordinò el Tertio Ordine de Frati et Sore di Penitentia et della dignità et perfectione o vero Sanctità Sua, ed. by Massimo D. Papi, Analecta Tertii Ordinis Regularis Sancti Francisci, 18 (1985), pp. 263-588; Mariano d’Alatri, “Aetas poenitentialis”. L’antico Ordine francescano della penitenza (Rome: Istituto Storico dei Cappuccini, 1993). For Florence, see Ronald F.E. Weissman, Ritual Brotherhood in Renaissance Florence (New York: Academic Press, 1982); John Henderson, Piety and Charity in Late Medieval Florence (Chicago and London: at the University Press, 1994); Arnaldo d’Addario, “Le confraternite di Santa Croce nel tessuto della città”, Santa Croce nel solco della storia, ed. by Massimiliano G. Rosito (Florence: Città di Vita, 1996), pp. 135-150. On the countryside, Charles M. de la Roncière, “La place des confréries dans l’encadrement religieux du contado florentin: l’exemple de la Val d’Elsa”, Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome, Moyen Âge-Temps Modernes, 85 (1973), pp. 1 and 31-77. 33 Giovanna Casagrande, “Il fenomeno della reclusione volontaria nei secoli del basso Medioevo”, Benedictina, 35 (1988), pp. 475-507; Giovanna Casagrande, “Forme di vita religiosa femminile solitaria in Italia centrale”, Eremitismo nel francescanesimo medievale (Naples-Assisi-Perugia: Centro di Studi Francescani, 1991), pp. 51-94; Benvenuti, ‘In castro poenitentiae’. Santità e società femminile nell’Italia medievale, pp. 305-402; Benvenuti, “Ordini mendicanti in Toscana (secc. XIII-XV): un problema ancora aperto”, pp. 21-26; Benvenuti, “La civiltà urbana”, pp. 173-177. 34 Giovanna Casagrande, “Penitenti e Disciplinati a Perugia e loro rapporti con gli Ordini Mendicanti”, Les Ordres Mendiants, pp. 711-721; Mauro Ronzani, “Penitenti e Ordini Mendicanti a Pisa sino all’inizio del Trecento”, ivi, pp. 733741. 35 For an introduction, see: Luigi Pellegrini, “Gli insediamenti degli Ordini mendicanti e la loro tipologia. Considerazioni metodologiche e piste di ricerca”,

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Settlements of these religiones were located mostly in the suburbs – or the so-called burgi – which were the areas that underwent rapid and intense population growth, due mainly to migration from the countryside. Friars often re-used existing buildings (churches, oratories, hospitals). Later they moved to new monasteries built with the support of municipal authorities and the wealthiest citizens.36 Mendicants owed their success to their pastoral activities targeting all social ranks, and to their close relations with ruling classes. From the middle of the 13th century, new urban regimes of the Populus (that is governments of merchants and entrepreneurs) afforded friars special protection.37 At the same time, in Tuscany as well, religious brothers became flexible tools in the hands of the Apostolic See, since they were less constricted by the bonds that the secular clergy (Bishops and, especially, cathedrals Chapters) had with members of the leading families who had founded the Consular rule of urban Communes during the 12th century.38

Les Ordres Mendiants et la ville en Italie centrale (v. 1220-v. 1350), pp. 563-573; Mario Sanfilippo, “Il convento e la città: nuova definizione di un tema”, Lo spazio dell’umiltà. Atti del Convegno di studi sull’edilizia dell’Ordine dei Minori (Rome: Centenari, 1984), pp. 327-341; André Vauchez, “Les Ordres mendiants et la reconquête religieuse de la société urbaine”, Histoire du Christianisme des origines à nos jours. V. Apogée de la Papauté et expansion de la Chrétienté (10541274), ed. by André Vauchez (Paris: Desclée, 1993), pp. 767-793. For a comparison between Benedictines and Mendicants, see: Luigi Pellegrini, “Monachesimo e Ordini mendicanti”, Il monachesimo italiano nell’età comunale, ed. by Francesco G.B. Trolese (Cesena: Centro Storico Benedettino Italiano, 1998), pp. 665-694. On Tuscany: Roberto Lunardi, Arte e storia in Santa Maria Novella (Florence: Salani, 1983); Wilhelm Kurze, “Monasteri e Comuni in Toscana”, Il monachesimo italiano nell’età comunale, pp. 507-528. 36 See Angiola Maria Romanini, “L’architettura degli ordini mendicanti: nuove prospettive di interpretazione”, Storia della città, 9 (1978), pp. 5-15; Renato Bonelli, Francesco d’Assisi. Chiese e conventi (Milan: Electa, 1982); Gli ordini mendicanti e la città. Aspetti architettonici, sociali e politici, ed. by Joselita Raspi Serra (Milan: Guerini Studio, 1990); Giacomo Todeschini, “Ordini mendicanti e coscienza cittadina”, Les Ordres Mendiants et la ville en Italie centrale (v. 1220-v. 1350), pp. 657-666. 37 See, for Tuscany: Brunetto Quilici, “La Chiesa di Firenze dal governo del ‘Primo Popolo’ alla restaurazione guelfa”, Archivio Storico Italiano, 127 (1969), pp. 265-337, especially, pp. 296-313; Benvenuti, ‘In castro poenitentiae’. Santità e società femminile nell’Italia medievale. 38 Benvenuti, ‘In castro poenitentiae’. Santità e società femminile nell’Italia medievale, pp. 17-57.

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The religious Orders that attained Papal legitimacy at the Fourth Lateran Council (1215), and survived the rationalisation of the Council of Lyon in 1274 – the assembly that obliterated many pauperistic-inspired oboedientiae39 – often outclassed, not without strong opposition, the Church hierarchy in the competition for the devotion of the faithful. This phenomenon, obviously, was not limited to Tuscany. However this land was, as we have said, one of the most densely urbanised areas in Late Medieval Italy and Europe, and its dynamic, rich and socially stratified cities were always in need of new spiritual answers. Tuscany, therefore, was an ideal land for the expansion of friars and their confraternities who, during approximately 1220 to 1280, came to occupy many physical places which had, up until then, been more or less the exclusive domains of Benedictine monks. Let us now take a brief look at the chronology. In Florence, the Fratres de Poenitentia of St. Francis of Assisi that comprised some lay devotees who later joined together in the Order of Minoritic Tertiary, gathered in an as-yet unformalised way at the Hospital of San Gallo (still outside the city walls) in 1209-18 (the settlement was formalised in 1218).40 In 1228, friars were already in the basilica of Santa Croce, which became the most important Minoritic settlement in 13th century Italy.41 Dominicans arrived from Bologna in 1219 and settled first on the east, then the west side of the city, at the Hospital of San Pancrazio. Later (1221), with the favour of Pope Gregory IX, they gathered in the final settlement of Santa Maria inter vineas, which became Santa Maria Novella.42 Augustinians came to San Matteo, on the hill of Arcetri, during the first half of the century, and in 1250 settled at Santo Spirito, in the new

39 Conciliorum Oecumenicorum Decreta, ed. by Giuseppe Alberigo, Giuseppe L. Dossetti, Perikles-P. Joannou, Claudio Leonardi, Paolo Prodi, cons. and Hubert Jedin (Bologna: Dehoniane, 1991), 1215: Constitutio, 13, p. 242; 1274, Constitutio, 23, pp. 326-327. 40 Raoul Manselli, “Bernardo da Quintavalle”, Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1967), IX, p. 288; Anna Benvenuti, “L’insediamento francescano a Firenze: le origini”, La presenza francescana nella Toscana del ‘200 (Florence: Comunità Francescana, 1992), pp. 81-100, especially, pp. 89-92. 41 Pellegrini, Insediamenti francescani nell’Italia del Duecento, p. 175. 42 Anna Benvenuti, Pastori di popolo. Storie e leggende di vescovi e di città nell’Italia medievale (Florence: Arnaud, 1988), pp. 26, 37 and 77, ff., 93. See also, for the female branch: Daniela Mignani Galli, “Notizie storiche”, La chiesa di S. Jacopo a Ripoli (Florence: Istituto Geografico Militare, 1977), pp. 19-35.

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city district of Oltrarno.43 The same year marked the definitive settlement of the Serviti at Santa Maria in Cafaggio (now known as Santissima Annunziata).44 The Saccati arrived at Sant’Egidio in 1259, and finally, in 1268, the Carmelites came to Santa Maria del Carmine.45 All the religious communities, as we have said, first reached the suburbs and then moved ‘downtown’, within the city walls. In Florence, they played an important role in city planning and administration. The urban structure, in fact, was divided into four districts or quarters in 1343. The first identified the old city and had its centre in the Baptistery (San Giovanni). The other three districts referred to the main settlements of the Mendicants: Santa Croce (Franciscan), Santa Maria Novella (Dominican), Santo Spirito (Augustinian). Comparing the Florentine situation with that of other Tuscan cities in relation to the major regular families, we can see that from 1228 (the year St. Francis was canonised) to 1230, the religio fratrum Minorum settled in Pisa, Pistoia, Arezzo, Lucca, Prato, in Valdinievole, in the town of Figline Valdarno, in the centres of Valdelsa and in Valdichiana.46 On the other 43

Alberto Busignani and Raffaello Bencini, Le chiese di Firenze. Quartiere di Santo Spirito (Florence: Sansoni, 1974), pp. 29-76. 44 The tradition of the miraculous acheropite picture of the Virgin in the settlement that later took the name of Santissima Annunziata dates back to 1252. See: Eugenio Casalini, Una icona di famiglia. Nuovi contributi di storia e d’arte sulla SS. Annunziata di Firenze (Florence: Polistampa, 1998), pp. 23-25. 45 See: Benvenuti, ‘In castro poenitentiae’. Santità e società femminile nell’Italia medievale, pp. 3-16; Prisca Giovannini and Sergio Vitolo, Il Convento del Carmine di Firenze: caratteri e documenti (Florence: Tipografia Nazionale, 1981), p. 32. 46 John Moorman, A History of the Franciscan Order from Its Origins to the Year 1517 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), p. 159; Pellegrini, Insediamenti francescani nell’Italia del Duecento, pp. 63-79 and 175-182; and: Renato Piattoli, “L’atto di fondazione del S. Francesco di Prato”, Studi Francescani, 29 (1932), I, pp. 62-68, especially, pp. 66-68; Francesco Gurrieri, La fabbrica del San Francesco in Prato (Prato: Azienda Autonoma di Turismo, 1968); Presenza dei Francescani in Valdinievole, ed. by Ottaviano Giovannetti and Giuseppe Tollapi (Pescia: Benedetti, 1984); Maria Grazia Nico Ottaviani, Francesco d’Assisi e francescanesimo nel territorio aretino (secc. XIII-XIV) (Arezzo: Biblioteca della città, 1993); S. Francesco. La chiesa e il convento in Pistoia, ed. by Lucia Gai (Pisa-Pistoia: Pacini, 1993); Laura Borelli, Il francescanesimo femminile a Lucca nei secoli XIII e XIV. Il monastero di Gattaiola (Lucca: Accademia Lucchese di Scienze Lettere e Arti, 1999); Gli Ordini mendicanti in Val d’Elsa (Castelfiorentino: Società Storica della Valdelsa, 1999); Mauro Ronzani, “La chiesa e il convento di S. Francesco nella Pisa del Duecento”, Il francescanesimo a Pisa (secoli XIII-XIV) e la missione del beato Agnello in Inghilterra a Canterbury e Cambridge (1224-1236), ed. by Ottavio Banti and Marina Soriani Innocenti (Pisa: Felici, 2003), pp. 31-45, especially, pp. 31-33; Salvestrini, “Gli Ordini

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hand, the final settlements of Franciscans in Siena and Cortona date from 1236 and 1240-45 respectively.47 The Dominicans began building their great Sienese basilica in 1226. They arrived in Pistoia at the end of the 1240s, in Pisa more or less ten years later, and at San Gimignano in 1278. In Arezzo, they built their final conventus in 1275, and consecrated their great church of San Romano in Lucca in 1281.48 Carmelite hermits were present in Pisa from 1248 – the year after the insertion of the Order in the Mendicant family – and in Siena from 1256.49 Towards the middle of the 13th century, Tuscany had more than fifty sites collected in seven custodiae of Minor friars.50 Each custodia had a Chapter that elected a president (custos) and brought together the governors of monasteries, called guardian fathers. The Dominican friars had seven monasteries, located more or less in the same cities that served as capitals of the Franciscan custodiae. Considering that Dominic de Guzmán had died in 1221 and Francis of Assisi in 1226, it is easy to confirm the precocity of their Orders’ settlements in Tuscany during the transition from a deliberate initial uncertainty, when fraternitas was more important for friars than regular vita communis, to the season of the great, monumental monasteries.51 Anyway, in addition to large regular families, Tuscan cities were settled by lesser known but no less important Orders, both local and religiosi a Pistoia in età precomunale e comunale”, pp. 257-261; Gabriele Donati, “Arte e architettura in San Francesco di Lucca fino alle soglie del Cinquecento (con la vera storia della Cappella Guinigi)”, Il complesso conventuale di San Francesco in Lucca. Studi e materiali, ed. by Maria Teresa Filieri and Giulio Ciampoltrini (Lucca: Cassa di Risparmio, 2009), pp. 13-133, especially, pp. 20-24. 47 Vittorio Lusini, Storia della basilica di S. Francesco in Siena (Siena: San Bernardino, 1894); San Francesco e Siena, ed. by Piero Misciattelli and Aldo Lusini (Siena: La Diana, 1927); G. Inga, “Gli insediamenti mendicanti a Cortona”, Storia della città, 9 (1978), pp. 44-55, especially, pp. 44 and 47-52. 48 Innocenzo Taurisano, I Domenicani in Lucca (Lucca: Baroni, 1914); Italo Moretti, “Insediamenti e architettura dei mendicanti in Val d’Elsa”, Gli Ordini mendicanti in Val d’Elsa, pp. 293-337, especially, p. 336; Salvestrini, “Gli Ordini religiosi a Pistoia in età precomunale e comunale”, pp. 262-263. 49 Giovannini and Vitolo, Il Convento del Carmine di Firenze: caratteri e documentix, p. 32. 50 Camillo Bensi and Lorenzo Lazzeri, I 51 conventi dei frati minori in Toscana (Florence: Provincia Toscana di San Francesco Stimmatizzato, 1985). 51 Charles M. de la Roncière, “L’influence des Franciscains dans la campagne de Florence au XIVe siècle (1280-1360)”, Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome, Moyen Âge-Temps Modernes, 87 (1975), pp. 27-103, especially, pp. 46-51.

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foreign. Among those already mentioned are the Umiliati, religious craftsmen of Benedictine, then Mendicant connotation.52 They, perhaps more than any other regular family, favoured an encounter between religious life and work; their work that was not so much (or not only) in the fields, in line with the Benedictine tradition, but rather a protoindustrial manufacturing.53 Moreover, at the end of the Middle Ages, the new Orders were able to accommodate the requests of craftsmen, merchants and entrepreneurs.54 For example, through the lay Order of Gesuati from Siena, they restored the lawfulness of honest trades, and the possibility for religious penitents to work, produce goods and sell them to the public, bringing the activities that substantiated the development of Communal cities into line with the holy life.55 We have said that in the 13th century Tuscan Mendicants were privileged compared to Cistercians. However, the Florentine case shows that the first mode of settlement was similar for all the religiones. In the city, the initial support of bishops Ardingo Foraboschi (1231-49) and Giovanni Mangiadori (1252-74) was a determining factor for official recognition of the Serviti (1247), the consolidation of the Dominican settlement, the advent of the Umiliati and the arrival of the Cistercians on the outskirts of Florence.56

52

Sulle tracce degli Umiliati, ed. by Maria Pia Alberzoni, Annamaria Ambrosioni and Alfredo Lucioni (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1997); Frances Andrews, The Early Humiliati (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999). 53 Luigi Zanoni, Gli Umiliati nei loro rapporti con l’eresia, l’industria della lana ed i Comuni nei secoli XII e XIII, sulla scorta di documenti inediti (Milan: Hoepli, 1911). 54 Giacomo Todeschini, I mercanti e il tempio. La società cristiana e il circolo virtuoso della ricchezza fra Medioevo ed Età Moderna (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2002), pp. 113-131; L’economia dei conventi dei frati minori e predicatori fino alla metà del Trecento (Spoleto: Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 2004). 55 Giovan Battista Uccelli, Il convento di S. Giusto alle Mura e i Gesuati (Florence: Tipografia delle Murate, 1865), pp. 9-81; Isabella Gagliardi and Francesco Salvestrini, “L’insediamento dei Gesuati a Pistoia tra Medioevo e prima età moderna”, Gli Ordini Mendicanti a Pistoia (secc. XIII-XV), pp. 141-203; Isabella Gagliardi, I ‘pauperes yesuati’ tra esperienze religiose e conflitti istituzionali (Rome: Herder, 2004). 56 Benvenuti, Pastori di popolo. Storie e leggende di vescovi e di città nell’Italia medievale, pp. 21; Francesco Salvestrini, “Mangiadori, Giovanni”, Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 2007), LXIX, pp. 4-7.

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Certainly there were conflicts. Typical contrasts, also seen elsewhere, between secular and regular clergy, especially focusing on ecclesiastical rights and on relations with faithful population, flanked disputes among friars, who were always competing for the best locations in towns. For example, in Pisa all four major Mendicant families had a long struggle with the Archbishop and the Cathedral Chapter.57 However, the religious settlements were flexible, and this allowed for forms of convergence that were based upon an ability to fit into local realities. This is well demonstrated by the case of Pistoia. Here the idleness and, perhaps, the hostility of the pro-imperial Bishop Graziadio Berlinghieri (1222/23-50) slowed the consolidation of the Franciscan settlement up to 1250. Later however, the next episcopus Guidaloste Vergiolesi (1252-84) allowed the friars to move to a more appropriate site, and welcomed both the Dominicans and the Serviti who were coming to the city.58 Moreover, even in Ghibelline Pisa, the first impact of the ‘new religious’ with the Episcopal Curia had been positive, and the Archbishop Federico Visconti (1254-77) wove praise of the Mendicants into his sermons, and proposed friars as models for his diocesan clergy.59 On the other hand, we can see that as Benedictine Monasticism did not reject the urban dimension, similarly the Mendicants (excluding the Dominicans, who wanted to be close to existing universities (studia) or create new ones, which is why they preferred to settle in major centres) usually did not reject rural locations. The hermit component of the Franciscan and Augustinian Orders prove it; not to mention that the Mendicant apostolate made no conceptual distinction between the urban and rural faithful. Urban society and the cities’ ruling classes only offered the Cistercians protection, support and donations of land. For the Mendicants, instead, cities were the largest concentrations of souls that the reality of the time could offer. They were hotbeds of sin and basins of redemption, so it was logical and proper to be present in them. And whoever won in the cities and in the consciences of citizens had better luck than those who had tried 57

Mauro Ronzani, “Gli Ordini mendicanti e le istituzioni ecclesiastiche preesistenti a Pisa nel Duecento”, Les Ordres Mendiants et la ville en Italie centrale (v. 1220-v. 1350), pp. 667-677. 58 Salvestrini, “Gli Ordini religiosi a Pistoia in età precomunale e comunale”, pp. 260-261 and 263. 59 Mauro Ronzani, “Una vocazione all’accoglienza: le filiali pisane di Ordini e congregazioni religiose tra la fine del secolo XI e il Trecento”, Pisa crocevia di uomini, lingue e culture. L’età medievale, ed. by Lucia Battaglia Ricci and Roberta Cella (Rome: Aracne, 2009), pp. 61-80.

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to find a way of their own and common salvation in contemplation. On the other hand, the active collaboration of the ruling classes with the Mendicants was no longer just a matter of professional advice or for promoting economics-businesses, as it was with the Cistercians or the Umiliati. Religious orders like the Dominicans had effective tools, forged in the struggle against heresy, to strike and marginalise the most dangerous Ghibellines in Guelph towns,60 to approach the new emerging classes through the creation and promotion of lay brotherhoods, and to help people and urban regimes to renew city politics. Furthermore, we must remember that the major Orders, such as the Franciscans, encouraged much of the public assistance, increasing the regular contributions donated to managing hospitals for the sick and hospices for pilgrims. There were also religious families that focused on the needy, such as the Giamboniti, who in 1237 (before being absorbed by the Augustinians) replaced the Franciscans in the Florentine hospital of San Gallo with the support of the Pope and the local Bishop.61 Next, we must mention the commitment of the Mendicants to helping that particular class of the needy who the dynamics of business had abruptly moved from wealth to poverty (poveri vergognosi). For example, the friars later established the Monti di Pietà, pawnshops that served an important role in curtailing usury.62 Franciscans and Dominicans became protagonists of urban culture, something Benedictines almost never did.63 They opened their studia (generalia, provincialia, particularia) to outside scholars and pupils (both

60

On connections between heresy and Ghibellinism, see Federico Canaccini, Ghibellini e ghibellinismo in Toscana da Montaperti a Campaldino (1260-1280) (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 2009), pp. 180-188, especially, pp. 200-215. 61 Luigi Passerini, Storia degli stabilimenti di beneficienza e d’istruzione elementare gratuita della città di Firenze (Florence: Le Monnier, 1853), pp. 659663; Benvenuti, “Ordini mendicanti in Toscana (secc. XIII-XV): un problema ancora aperto”, pp. 11-12. 62 Giacomo Todeschini, La ricchezza degli Ebrei. Merci e denaro nella riflessione ebraica e nella definizione cristiana dell’usura alla fine del Medioevo (Spoleto: Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 1989), pp. 124-129, 133 and 155-180. For Florence, see Marino Ciardini, I banchieri Ebrei in Firenze nel secolo XV e il Monte di Pietà fondato da Girolamo Savonarola. Appunti di storia economica con appendice di documenti (Borgo San Lorenzo: Tip. Mazzocchi, 1907), pp. 61-67, 74-79 and 89-103. 63 The school of the Vallumbrosan monastery of Santa Trinita in Florence is of interest (Salvestrini, ‘Forme della presenza’).

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religious and lay).64 They added investigation and systematic theology to their direct communications with the faithful, using words and gestures in their preaching, as well as ‘educational’ works of art, such as the fresco cycles that decorated the aisles of their large churches. Finally, they resorted to the religious, moralistic and parenthetical theatre of the Sacre rappresentazioni.65 Mendicant Orders were able to interpret the need for new standards and new forms of protection expressed by a heterogeneous population, largely from rural areas, that was concentrated in the poorer and newer districts of the towns. The friars met the aspirations of a recently-urbanised middle class of artisans and merchants. In the confraternal proposals of the religious brothers (milites Christi, milites Virginis), this new class was able to experience an effective association system which became an alternative to the noblemen’s societies. I will conclude this necessarily brief paper with some historiographical considerations. Research on Benedictine and Mendicant settlements in Tuscany has made significant progress during the last thirty years. Furthermore, Italian studies on the regular clergy have emerged from the cloisters and the monopoly of religious families in which they had been held for centuries. Important works have greatly furthered the research into Benedictine Monasticism, and illuminated the world of Mendicants from the point of view of the history of holiness, of anthropology, and the history of art and architecture. Perhaps the time has come for us to emphasise comparative analyses and conduct further considerations on the impact of the Black Monks on the urban milieu, focusing attention, for example, on little known monastic preaching, and the Benedictine contribution to the delineation of local cults, which are profound issues especially for Mendicants. Through new projects that combine researches on Benedictines with studies on Mendicant religiones novae it will be possible to come to a better understanding of the issues concerning relations among popular religion, ecclesiastical institutions, communal rules and urban society during the Middle Ages.

64 Le scuole degli Ordini mendicanti (sec. XIII-sec. XIV) (Todi: Accademia Tudertina, 1978). 65 Il Francescanesimo e il teatro medievale (Castelfiorentino: Società Storica della Valdelsa, 1984); Cesare Vasoli, “Lo studio generale dell’Ordine, crocevia di idee”, Santa Croce nel solco della storia, pp. 45-66.

FEMALE MONASTERIES IN VENICE: RELIGIOUS DYNAMICS AND POLITICAL POWER1 SILVIA CARRARO AND ANNA RAPETTI UNIVERSITÀ CA’ FOSCARI

This paper deals with a rather relevant problem in the history of monasticism and state-building: could monasteries, and female monasteries in particular, have a social and political role in state-building processes during the High Middle Ages, especially in the Venetian state-building process? In what manner, and to what extent, did they play a political and institutional role in the definition of the Venetian state entity? The paper aims to investigate the social and political roles of these convents – only seemingly secondary – in the process of building the Venetian state. It will consider in particular the period between the 9th and 13th centuries, from the foundation of the oldest female monasteries to the consolidation of the Commune Veneciarum (“Commune of Venice”).2 The role played by Venetian nunneries in this period appears pivotal in shaping the creation of the Venetian state, at least until the political game among the families and interest groups became framed within the new institution of the Commune Veneciarum. The Communis Consilium (“the Council of the Commune”), with its sapientes (“councilors”), gave birth to the famous Great Council,

1

Abbreviation used: ASV, Archivio di Stato de Venezia. On this topic see: Roberto Cessi, Venezia ducale, 2 vols. (Venice: Deputazione di storia patria per le Venezie, 1963-1965); Giorgio Cracco, Società e stato nel medioevo veneziano (secoli XII-XIV) (Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 1967); Storia di Venezia, ed. by Giorgio Cracco et alii, 14 vols. (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1992-2002), in particular vol. 1. Origini-età ducale, ed. by Lellia Cracco Ruggini et alii (1992); vol. 2. L’età del comune, ed. by Giorgio Cracco and Gherardo Ortalli (1995); vol. 3. La formazione dello stato patrizio, ed. by Girolamo Arnaldi and others (1997). A religious analysis until the twelfth century in: Daniela Rando, Una chiesa di frontiera. Le istituzioni ecclesiastiche veneziane nei secoli VI-XII (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1994).

2

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which defined new boundaries to the doge’s power and altered the political equilibria within the group of families that held control, with the doge, and of the city’s government.3 During these crucial decades, nunneries changed their own role. Recently, it has been underscored how families bequeathed property and estates and made monetary donations to monastic communities in order to enforce their political position, and how, on the other hand, coenobitic institutions employed influential and/or wealthy families to create useful relationships with Venetian society.4 Certainly, in the High Middle Ages, monasteries were instruments for the consolidation of the delicate balances among Venetian aristocratic families. It is the wellknown continual disputes that distinguished this quite varied group, which was frequently destabilised by the dynamism of merchants vying to obtain a position in the government.5 As a result, the definition and delimitation of Venetian aristocratic families was uncertain and vague, almost until the end of the 13th century when, in 1297, the Serrata of the Great Council definitively bound the nobility to participation in public office.6 In this context, the monasteries appear as places where disagreements were reflected upon and pacified. At the same time, they were perceived as shared interests which families aimed to control and in which they participated as a cohesive group, not, or not only, as a separate entity. As a consequence, a sort of common and shared administration could be observed, both in coenobitic interests and estates. In a clearly recognisable strategy, aristocratic families systematically sustained their own members whenever they found the opportunity to have them appointed as lawyers or 3

Gerhard Rösch, Der venezianische Adel, bis zur Schließung des Großen Rats. Zur Genese einer Führungsschicht (Sigmaringen: Thorbecke, 1989), pp. 81-129. 4 Giuseppe Sergi, L’aristocrazia della preghiera: politica e scelte religiose nel medioevo italiano (Rome: Donzelli, 1994). Il monachesimo italiano nell’età comunale. Atti del IV convegno di studi storici sull’Italia benedettina, ed. by Francesco G. B. Trolese (Cesena: Badia di Santa Maria del Monte-Centro storico benedettino italiano, 1998); Annalisa Albuzzi, “Il monachesimo femminile nell’Italia medievale. Spunti di riflessione e prospettive di ricerca in margine alla produzione storiografica degli ultimi trent’anni”, in Dove va la storiografia monastica in Europa? Temi e metodi di ricerca per lo studio della vita monastica e regolare in età medievale alle soglie del terzo millennio, ed. by Giancarlo Andenna (Milan: Vita e pensiero, 2001), pp. 131-190. 5 Cracco, Società e stato nel medioevo veneziano (secoli XII-XIV). 6 Rösch, Der venezianische Adel, bis zur Schließung des Großen Rats. Zur Genese einer Führungsschicht; Wladimiro Dorigo, Venezia romanica. La formazione della città medievale fino all’età gotica, 2 vols. (Sommacampagna: Cierre edizioni, 2003), I, pp. 53-67.

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procurators. In this way, a single member of a family could accumulate prominent positions in many a monastery. In line with this view, coenobitic institutions not only offered an opportunity to gain practical experience in politics, in which members of aristocratic families were able to be trained for the roles of government, but also provided instruments for building Venetian identity. In this perspective, female communities are better markers than male ones. According to recent scholarship, they were very far from the social and material isolation of the ideal desertum (“desert”), and were often, in fact, lively centres which were frequently in touch with the outside world. However, the organisational and structural troubles that characterised female monasticism (for instance, their legal status or the constraints on movement imposed by the rules or male orders), in combination with the societal image of female weakness, meant that these communities were permeable to external interference; offers to fulfil the tasks that were made difficult for nuns to perform by the limitations on movement (for example, the administration of their estates on the Terraferma) were one such method of influential control exerted. On the other hand, the definition of the male political role is more complex, subject both to the private interests of specific families, and the public powers of the doge or the Commune Veneciarum. In this regard, male monasteries were tied to single families and specific interests, first and foremost, trade. For instance, both the doge and the Commune bequeathed wide estates in the area of Constantinople only to male monasteries, and these estates were both comfortable and useful landing places for Venetian merchants.7 As a result, there was less sharing of their administration than in nunneries. This does not mean that the ruling group was not interested in Venetian nunneries. Indeed, in the High Middle Ages, a close connection between the doge and San Zaccaria can be observed, a connection which stemmed from the convent of origin.8 It was founded in the 9th century by the Doge Giustiniano Partecipazio,9 and was constructum prope palacium (“built 7

Many occurrences in: San Giorgio Maggiore, 3 vols., ed. by Luigi Lanfranchi (Venice: Il comitato editore, 1968), II, pp. 168-175; Ermanno Orlando, “Ad profectum patrie”. La proprietà ecclesiastica veneziana in Romània dopo la IV crociata (Rome: Istituto storico per il Medioevo, 2005). 8 Marco Pozza, “Per una storia dei monasteri veneziani nei secoli VIII-XII”, Il monachesimo nel Veneto medievale. Atti del convegno di studi in occasione del millenario di fondazione dell’abbazia di Santa Maria di Mogliano Veneto. 30th November 1996, ed. by Francesco G. B. Trolese (Cesena: Badia di Santa Maria del Monte, 1998), pp. 17-38. 9 Giovanni Diacono, Istoria Veneticorum, ed. by Luigi A. Berto (Bologna:

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near the Doge’s palace”), as many documents repeatedly underlined.10 According to this bond, eight dogi were buried within its walls,11 and some of their relatives were buried together (such as Giovanni, son of Orso II Partecipazio, and his wife, Maria the Greek).12 As a result, the nunnery represented a sacred place dedicated to the memory of both the doge and the city, as embodied in its very institutions. Thus, it preserved the liturgical memory of the Dogado’s (“Dukedom’s”) political heart. Furthermore, San Zaccaria actively participated in the doge’s political activities as shown by the visits of the Emperors Otto III (1001),13 Henry III (1040),14 Henry IV (1095)15 and perhaps Henry V (1116) to the convent16 during their visits to Italy. Thus, by the means at its disposal, the convent supported and strengthened the foreign policy of the doge. At the time, both male and female monasteries were considered and used as instruments of government subjects, and as allies of the princes. The diplomas of the emperors always recorded their stays in the holy nunnery where they ibi causa orationis presentes fuerunt (stayed in San Zaccaria in order to pray). In this context, the holy community symbolised the political success of the doge and the city at the same time. The weight or influence of San Zaccaria in the social and political success of the doge was mirrored in the recruitment of nuns. In early centuries, it can be observed that the doge and the abbess of San Zaccaria were often from the same family. Giovanna Partecipazio, Orso I Partecipazio’s daughter, and Maria Falier, the daughter of Vitale I Falier, are just two examples that demonstrate the crucial role of the abbess in promoting and supporting the Zanichelli editore, 1999), pp. 118-119. 10 For instance the sentence is underlined in the donation documents of many proprieties near Monselice by Ingelfredo, count of Verona, and Idelburga, count Adalbergo’s wife. Flaminio Corner, Ecclesiae Venetae antiquis monumentis nunc etiam primum editis illustratae ac in decades distribuitae, 14 vols. (Venetiis: Typis Johannis Baptistae Pasquali, 1749), XIII, pp. 347-352. 11 Irmgard Fees, Le monache di San Zaccaria a Venezia nei secoli XII e XIII (Venice: Centro tedesco di studi veneziani, 1998), p. 7. 12 Diacono, Istoria Veneticorum, pp. 210-211. 13 Diacono, Istoria Veneticorum, pp. 198-199. 14 Die Urkunden Heinrichs III. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Die Urkunden der deutschen Könige und Kaiser, ed. by Heinrich Bresslau and Paul Kehr (Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1931), V, pp. 74-75. 15 Die Urkunden Heinrichs IV. Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Die Urkunden der deutschen Könige und Kaiser, ed. by Dietrich von Gladiss and Alfred Gawlik (Weimar: Verlag Hermann Böhlaus Nachfolger, 1952), VI, p. 600. 16 Corner, Ecclesiae Venetae antiquis monumentis nunc etiam primum editis illustratae ac in decades distribuitae, XIII, p. 360.

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authorities.17 Moreover, this shows the great influence of the community of San Zaccaria within the Venetian social framework. This idyll came to an abrupt end in 1141, when the abbess Nella Michiel died. The election of the next abbess led to a bitter quarrel between the Doge Pietro Polani and the Patriarch Enrico Dandolo. The former expected to appoint the new abbess, as was customary, while the latter claimed that the nuns had the right to choose the head of the convent themselves.18 As a consequence, the community spent more than ten years without an abbess, which effectively paralysed convent life.19 It can be observed that Venetian political, social, and religious dynamics overlapped in the abbess “affair”. At the same time, two families, supporters of different groups (the ancient Polani and the emergent Dandolo), and two public powers (civic Polani, and ecclesiastic Dandolo) were in conflict in the election, reflecting the critical situation not only within Venetian society, but also in ecclesiastical reform, just as the Commune Veneciarum was emerging in 1143.20 Despite this, the crisis only ended after Polani’s death (in 1148) with the choosing of an unknown abbess named Giseltrude, which brought the long affinity with the doge’s family to an end.21 As we will see below, the community of San Zaccaria continued to support the emergent authority of the Dogado, that is, the Commune Veneciarum.

17

Fees, Le monache di San Zaccaria a Venezia nei secoli XII e XIII, pp. 45-46. Silvia Carraro, “Tra sacro e quotidiano. Il monachesimo femminile nella laguna di Venezia in epoca medievale (secoli IX-XIV)” (Milano: Università degli studi di Milano, PhD Dissertation, 2012), pp. 51-52. 19 When Guelfo di Priolo called nuns to appear before the doge to answer about the possession of a house, they replied quod nichil dicere nec facere poterant quia habatissam non habebant (“they did not speak or do anything as they did not have an abbess”). ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, San Zaccaria, busta 7 pergamene, November 1145. 20 Rando, Una chiesa di frontiera. Le istituzioni ecclesiastiche veneziane nei secoli VI-XII, pp. 173-184. 21 Carraro, “Tra sacro e quotidiano. Il monachesimo femminile nella laguna di Venezia in epoca medievale (secoli IX-XIV)”, p. 52; Thomas F. Madden, Doge di Venezia. Enrico Dandolo e la nascita di un impero sul mare (Milan: Mondadori, 2009), pp. 44-45. 18

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Graphic 1: Government families in nunneries.

If, on the one hand, the Commune represented the decline of the political authority of the doge, on the other, it extended participation in government to a larger group of families. At the same time, this was a period of dynamic growth for Venetian trade and wealth.22 It can also be observed that, from the second half of the 12th century onwards, the community of San Zaccaria, like other Venetian nunneries, extended its recruitment to those families belonging to both the high aristocratic Venetian group and the emergent group of merchants. Romano Mairano’s daughter, a nun in San Zaccaria,23 and Domenico Barbarigo’s niece, a nun and subsequently the abbess of San Lorenzo,24 are the best-known examples. Thus, female recruitment is a good instrument to demonstrate the social dynamics underlying the Venetian state-identity process. If, outside the cloister, families showed their rivalries, inside it they built up and expressed their unity as a group. Consequently, no family controlled a single monastery; instead, families shared the management of two, three or more communities. In a wider sense, monasteries were key centres of political power, where networks of clientelism and fidelity could be constructed, reinforced, and new bonds created. 22

Gerhard Rösch, “Il gran guadagno”, Storia di Venezia, 2. L’età del comune, pp. 233-259. 23 ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, San Zaccaria, busta 36 pergamene, 30th November 1201. 24 ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, San Lorenzo, busta 5, processo 3, May 1214.

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At the same time that this social phenomenon occurred, the lay religious movements – especially female ones – which had been growing in importance throughout Europe from the 12th century onwards, appeared in the lagoon. Most of these new female religious communities established themselves on the northern islands of the Venetian lagoon. The Bishop of Torcello encouraged these women to consolidate their experience by entrusting some of the abandoned churches of his bishopric to them, with the suggestion that they adhere to Benedictine rule, perhaps with the hidden aim of repopulating some of these quasi-abandoned islands. Moreover, the women’s choice of remote and inhospitable islands responded to the need for isolation for prayer and meditation, which corresponded to the ideal of desertum from the early period. The origin of most of these initiatives stemmed from personal religious commitments, and not from political or economic interests.25 As a consequence, Venetian families seemed at first to ignore the news, although some communities were founded or supported by aristocratic women. In 1187, Ginevra Gradenigo, the sole heir of her father, Marino, gave Giacomina de Bonci the land where she established the Convent of Santa Maria degli Angeli.26 In 1218, Maria da Canal and Maria Zancarolo, both born into aristocratic families, were the first founders of the Convent of San Matteo di Costanziaco.27 Some years later, Maria, called Contessa, and Endrebona Dolfin encouraged the transition to Cistercian rule.28 The personal religious needs that lay behind these communities are underscored by the story of Endrebona. She was the widow of Pietro Michiel, who had been the lawyer of San Zaccaria in 1185.29 Despite this, she preferred a remote island in the lagoon to a comfortable and exclusive nunnery near the doge’s palace. Furthermore, circa 1220, Maria Longo, the wife of a

25 Carraro, “Tra sacro e quotidiano. Il monachesimo femminile nella laguna di Venezia in epoca medievale (secoli IX-XIV)”, pp. 107-135; Giovanni Spinelli, “I monasteri benedettini fra il 1000 e il 1300”, La chiesa di Venezia nei secoli XIXIII, ed. by Franco Tonon (Venice: Studium cattolico veneziano, 1988), pp. 109133. 26 Flaminio Corner, Ecclesiae Torcellanae antiquis monumentis nunc etiam primum editis illustratae, 3 vols. (Venetiis: Typis Johannis Baptistae Pasquali, 1749), I, p. 261. 27 Corner, Ecclesiae Torcellanae antiquis monumentis nunc etiam primum editis illustratae, I, pp. 316-317. 28 Corner, Ecclesiae Torcellanae antiquis monumentis nunc etiam primum editis illustratae, I, pp. 318-319. 29 ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, San Zaccaria, busta 12 pergamene, June 1203.

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merchant, took part in the building of Santa Margherita of Torcello.30 Although the new female experiences were, at first, only practised by a limited number of mulieres religiosae (“religious women”), groups of not more than two or three women, these communities grew steadily throughout the 13th century, and were successful in terms of both their numbers and patrimonies.31 As we have just seen, the most successful nunneries were those founded by women, especially aristocratic women, like Gradenigo. The interests of the aristocratic families did not take long to manifest themselves. From the second half of the century, these lagoon communities recruited a fair number of aristocratic nuns even though the proportion was lower than in the older communities. Nuns were able to establish new economic connections with significant religious experiences such as Ordo Sancti Benedicti in Padua, thereby extending their proprieties outside of the Venetian lagoon.32 Moreover, shown below, some influential Venetian lawyers and procurators looked after and defended them before the authorities. The new nunneries were gradually standardised with the old ones by both the civil and ecclesiastical authorities. The women from aristocratic families progressively began to be professed into new communities, while the Bishop of Torcello adjusted the monastic institutional frameworks to the papal dispositions, thereby cancelling out their original purpose. Some consequences of this process are shown below. Extended to all the monasteries in the lagoon, the study of the lists of nuns has highlighted the Venetian roots of the majority of the women who were professed.33 By contrast, a fair number of conversae (lay sisters) 30 Carraro, “Tra sacro e quotidiano. Il monachesimo femminile nella laguna di Venezia in epoca medievale (secoli IX-XIV)”, p. 195. 31 For example, San Lorenzo of Ammiana was founded by two women, Berta and Agnese. In 1252, there were seventeen nuns. San Lorenzo di Ammiana, ed. by Luigi Lanfranchi (Venezia: Alfieri, 1969), II, pp. 81-83; ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, Santa Maria degli Angeli, busta 11, 29th July 1252. 32 Like San Giovanni Evangelista nuns: ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, San Giovanni Evangelista di Torcello, busta 2 pergamene, 28th March 1231. For the Ordo Sancti Benedicti of Padua, see: Giannino Carraro, “I monaci albi di San Benedetto di Padova”, Il monachesimo italiano nell’età comunale. Atti del quarto convegno di studi storici sull’Italia benedettina. Abbazia di San Giacomo Maggiore, Pontida, 3-6 settembre 1995, ed. by Francesco G. B. Trolese (Cesena: Badia di Santa Maria del Monte, 1998), pp. 181-205; Antonio Rigon, “Ricerche sull’Ordo Sancti Benedicti de Padua nel XIII secolo”, Rivista di storia della chiesa in Italia, 2 (1975), pp. 511-535. 33 See similar considerations in: Fees, Le monache di San Zaccaria a Venezia nei secoli XII e XIII, pp. 27-29.

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came from the Terraferma – especially from towns where the monasteries had their own estates, such as those in the areas of Padua and Treviso – and often resided in properties on the Terraferma, sometimes including those in Venice.34

Graphic 2: Origins of nuns and conversae in the Venetian nunneries in the 13th century

It is clear that only professed nuns made the decisions for a good convent life and administration, whereas conversae might have been in the background. As a result, monasteries held a crucial role in the organisation and hierarchisation of the Venetian government group, enforcing the idea of their influence in the process of building Venetian identity. Furthermore, the origin of the nuns denotes the attention Venetian families paid in order to prevent any potential foreign interference in the control of convents. This indicates the progressive realisation, within the awareness of the Venetian family, of their own authority, both inside and outside the Dogado. According to this hypothesis, monastic communities are perceived as a constituent and essential part of the Venetian framework and its well-known “myth”.35 Thus, convents were presented to nonVenetians as the longa manus, or extension, of the Venetian social and political model. In this perspective, the exclusive origins of the nuns might 34 It is not possible to calculate the exact number, as they were not always enumerated in lists of nuns and we could not always distinguish whether they are nuns or conversae. 35 On Venetian myths, see: Gina Fasoli, “Nascita di un mito”, Scritti di storia medievale, ed. by Antonio Carile et alii (Bologna: La fotocromo emiliana 1974), pp. 445-472; Edward Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1981), pp. 17-75.

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be explained as a symptom of Venice’s power to extend its influence physically outside the city. Another important point that emerges from the analysis of lists of nuns is the number of women from the same family living in different communities. Surprisingly, most of the high aristocratic families preferred to place their relatives in different convents and not just in one. Venier had several nuns at the same time in San Zaccaria, San Lorenzo, San Giovanni Evangelista, Sant’Antonio and San Secondo, etc. Some families, especially the oldest ones such as the Contarini, the Michiel, the Morosini, and the Dandolo families, etc., who had belonged to government circles since the 12th century, were simultaneously involved in three or more convents. Others, such as the Tiepolo, the Badoer and the Viaro families, whose political influence was emerging in these decades thanks to their success in trading activities,36 were the procurators of many convents, but no women of their families seemed to have chosen cloister life. Lastly, the Loredans, another new family, preferred the community of Sant’Antonio di Torcello as the cloister for their women. These different choices could be interpreted as a reaction to the bitter conflicts inside the governing group and as strategies worked out by different families to find a new equilibrium, reaching a new balance of power. As stated above, the Commune Veneciarum allowed families of different social ranks access to government. As a consequence, the delicate political balance inside these monastic communities was greatly tested. Once again, nunneries seem to represent a place where disagreements were conciliated. Families preferred to enforce their control over nunneries by opening the recruitment to several groups. In contrast, when families decided to focus their attention on only one community, problems arose. In the second half of the 13th century, Sant’Antonio di Torcello was controlled by the Loredans, who placed six of their women in this convent.37 Moreover, Giovanni Loredan, brother of both the abbess Agnese and the nun Marchesina, was the procurator of the community.38 Some years later, an angry dispute began over the election of the abbess. Two different 36

Cracco, Società e stato nel medioevo veneziano (secoli XII-XIV), pp. 66-90; Keiro Takada, “Aspetti della vita parentale della nobiltà veneziana nel Duecento. L’esempio della famiglia Viaro del ramo di San Maurizio”, Archivio Veneto, 180 (1995), pp. 5-29. 37 They are: Agnese, Alice, Alvira, Antonia, Fontana, Marchesina. Archivio di Stato de Venezia, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, Sant’Antonio di Torcello, busta 1 pergamene, 14th May 1297. 38 ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, Sant’Antonio di Torcello, busta 1 pergamene, 3rd January 1283.

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factions, the Loredans on the one hand, and the Veniers on the other, fought for the choice of their own candidate and scandalised the religious life of the Dukedom for more than ten years. In the end, a compromise was achieved, Beriola Venier was elected, and on her death, Fantina Loredan succeeded her.39 As mentioned above, one of the features of social relationships in convents was the contemporaneous presence of noblemen who played the role of lawyers and procurators in more than one convent. Their presence could extend from legal advice to endowments, as in the case of the Ziani family, who made donations to all the male and female monasteries in the Dogado, to simple economic interest.40 From 1210 to 1216, Giovanni Barozzi was the procurator of San Zaccaria in Venice,41 while, from 1203 to 1236, he was often an adviser, and sometimes a procurator, of San Giovanni Evangelista in Padua.42 However, he was also a judge during the Dogado of Pietro Ziani (1208).43 Shared administration was not restricted merely to old communities. Instead, control was quickly extended to new orders appearing in the lagoon. Andrea Zeno was the procurator of Sant’Antonio di Torcello (1280),44 Ranieri Zeno was the founder of Santa Maria della Celestia (1237) while he was the podestà of Piacenza.45 Ten years later, he was a lawyer in San Lorenzo di Ammiana.46 In addition, he was the most important supporter of Santa Maria dei Crociferi,47 but also a key character in the Venetian political scene. His career, which began as the podestà of Pola in 1225, advanced with him becoming the podestà of

39

Corner, Ecclesiae Torcellanae antiquis monumentis nunc etiam primum editis illustratae, I, pp. 141-184. 40 Irmgard Fees, Ricchezza e potenza nella Venezia medievale: la famiglia Ziani (Rome: Il Veltro, 2006), pp. 418-432. 41 ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, San Zaccaria, busta 7 pergamene, 30th April 1210; busta 12 pergamene, 30th April 1216. 42 ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, San Giovanni Evangelista, busta 2 pergamene, 3rd April 1203; busta 3 pergamene, 14th April 1236. 43 Cracco, Società e stato nel medioevo veneziano (secoli XII-XIV), p. 72. 44 ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, Sant’Antonio di Torcello, busta 1 pergamene, 15th March 1280. 45 Carraro, “Tra sacro e quotidiano. Il monachesimo femminile nella laguna di Venezia in epoca medievale (secoli IX-XIV)”, pp. 143-147. 46 ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, Miscellanea atti diplomatici e privati, busta 4, 22nd June 1247. 47 Ranieri Zeno’s will is edited in Antichi testamenti tratti dagli archivi della congregazione della carità di Venezia per la dispensa delle visite, ed. by Jacopo Bernardi (Venice: Tipografia di M.S. fra compositori e impressori, 1884), pp. 3-18.

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many Italian cities,48 and as the ambassador of Venice in the Council of Lyon. It might be recalled that, during his return journey, he was captured by the Emperor Frederick II who forced him to ensure him the support of the Commune Veneciarum,49 and finally became doge in 1253. He was not alone. Stefano Badoer was the lawyer of San Zaccaria from 1227 to 1232,50 while his relative Giovanni was the most important supporter of new male and female orders, both Minores and sorores minores.51 Some years later, Stefano was the podestà in the nearby city of Padua, and, in 1231, he exempted his old convent from paying some duties.52 His career continued as the ambassador of Giacomo Tiepolo in Ferrara, and ended, in 1240, as the podestà in the same city.53 There are numerous other examples. Certainly, some families used relationships built in monastic contexts to bolster their political and economic positions. In the lives of both Ranieri Zeno and Stefano Badoer, the close-connection between monastic interests and political careers is evident. On the other hand, the continuous presence of these influential families in monastic life guaranteed the safety and success of these communities in Venetian lay society. In the second half of the 13th century, Venetian public offices were definitively consolidated. The Great Council and its restricted “projection”, the Minor Council, made (by this time) all the crucial decisions regarding Venetian life. However, the social identity-building process and the compromise between the most influential representatives of two groups,

48

Chioggia (1228), Treviso (1233), Oderzo (1235), Piacenza (1237), Bologna (1239) and Fermo (1240). ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, San Matteo di Mazzorbo, busta 1 pergamene, 8th June 1228; San Michele in Isola di Murano, busta 8, 16th November 1235; San Daniele, busta 2 pergamene, 12th December 1235; Cracco, Società e stato nel medioevo veneziano (secoli XII-XIV), pp. 173174. 49 Paolo Sambin, “Problemi politici attraverso lettere inedite di Innocenzo IV”, Istituto Veneto di scienze lettere e arti, 31 (1955), pp.18-24. 50 ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, San Zaccaria, busta 8 pergamene, 30th November 1227; 30 April 1232. 51 Carraro, “Tra sacro e quotidiano. Il monachesimo femminile nella laguna di Venezia in epoca medievale (secoli IX-XIV)”, pp. 143-151; Marco Pozza, I Badoer. Una famiglia veneziana dal X al XIII secolo (Abano Terme: Francisci, 1982). 52 ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, San Giovanni Evangelista, busta 2 pergamene, 15th March 1231. 53 ASV, Corporazioni religiose soppresse, San Daniele, busta 6 atti, fascicolo 9, 1230; ASV, Miscellanea atti diplomatici e privati, busta 3, 26th June 1240.

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the nobles and the merchants, were successfully brought to an end.54 The result was clear in 1297, with the known Serrata of the Great Council, when these limited groups of families awarded themselves the exclusive right to govern Venice.55 As a consequence, the political weight of monasteries gradually diminished. Families no longer participated in the direct control of convents and shared administration lost its importance. This did not mean a complete loss of control, although the forms that these controls took became quite different. The protagonists were now new public officers, who began to take over the organisation and control of monastic life.56 However, as we have seen, public offices were still held by aristocratic families. One instrument of control was the Grazie, which were a form of public financial support in terms of grants or exemptions. They grew in number and importance: many nunneries raised loans for restoring murorum qui ceciderunt pro aqua magna (“walls which had fallen because of severe floods”) (1300), or in subsidio reparacionis sui dormitorii (“as subsidy in order to repair their dormitory”) (1303). Moreover, they obtained exemptions on the duties for timber and foodstuffs.57 The interference of public authorities in the religious field evolved progressively. Even since 1236, the abbot of San Michele of Brondolo, which had just reformed to the Cistercensian rule, fidelitatem sub juramento promisit communitati civitatis illius (“promised his loyalty to the commune of Venice”).58 It is probable that the abbesses of San Matteo and Santa Margherita took the same oath, as emerged during a dispute with the Bishop of Torcello in the last decades of the century.59 We have 54 Cracco, Società e stato nel medioevo veneziano (secoli XII-XIV), pp. 290-351; Gerhard Rösch, “The Serrata of the Great Council and Venetian Society, 12861323”, Venice Reconsidered: the History and Civilization of an Italian City-State, 1297-1797, ed. by Dennis Romano et alii (Baltimore MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000), pp. 67-88. 55 Stanley Chojnacki, “La formazione della nobiltà dopo la Serrata”, Storia di Venezia, 3. La formazione dello stato patrizio, pp. 641-725. 56 For instance, driving monastic reclamation of Venetian space: Elisabeth Crouzet, Sopra le acque salse: espaces, pouvoir et société a Venice a la fin du Moyen Age, 2 vols. (Rome: Ecole française de Rome, 1982). 57 Cassiere della bolla ducale. Grazie – Novus liber (1299-1305), ed. by Elena Favaro (Venice: Il comitato editore, 1962). 58 Statuta capitulorum generalium ordinis Cisterciensis ab anno 1116 usque ad annum 1786, 8 vols., ed. by Joseph M. Canivez (Louvain: Bibliothèque de la Revue d’histoire écclesiastique, 1933-1941), II, p. 138. 59 Carraro, “Tra sacro e quotidiano. Il monachesimo femminile nella laguna di Venezia in epoca medievale (secoli IX-XIV)”, p. 205.

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just mentioned the bishop’s role in the institutionalisation of new nunneries, and the bishop continued to supervise the religious activities of nuns, sometimes in accordance with both their families and the civil authorities, sometimes against them, commonly when he did not belong to the aristocratic ranks of Venice. The best demonstration was the opposition of Gotifredo, a non-Venetian bishop, to the oaths and consecration of abbesses in the presence of the Primicerio of San Marco, which was the Venice-state chapel. The involvement of the potentes, as documents recorded, which we translate as public authorities or state power, underscored the intricate networks of civil and religious authorities around the nunneries.60 In the last decade of the century, and especially in the following century, the pressure of the authorities became more and more incisive, arriving at the Great Council’s decision to forbid the building of any new monasteries without its permission.61 As we have seen, the Serrata was the final step of aristocratic identity-building and the end of direct control in convent life, although it did not mean the end of family devotion. The wills of most noblemen began to contain generous endowments for monasteries. From the second half of the 13th century, the repeated expression “all monasteries ad Gradum usque Caput Aggeris” (from the cities of Grado to Cavarzere, the Dukedom boundaries), demonstrated that the piety of Venetian families to all the religious institutions of the Dukedom continued as before.62 In conclusion, the political and social role of convents in Venetian state-building was absolutely crucial. The power of the doge and the Venetian family-identity were mirrored and re-mirrored inside the holy walls. The close connection between the nunneries and the political development of the Dogado is clearly demonstrated by the instruments of “control” that aristocratic families were able to employ: at first, the relationship of San Zaccaria and the doge served as a religious symbol of political success for the doge. Then, after the formation of the Commune Veneciarum and the increase in religious subjects, the exclusive recruitment of Venetian nuns expressed the strong idea of a Venetian social identity in the minds of the families, even outside the city. Government families acted as a cohesive group in the organisation of convents. As a result, they succeeded in creating a network of alliances 60

Carraro, “Tra sacro e quotidiano. Il monachesimo femminile nella laguna di Venezia in epoca medievale (secoli IX-XIV)”, pp. 204-208. 61 Vittorio Piva, Il patriarcato di Venezia e le sue origini, 2 vols (Venice: Studium cattolico veneziano, 1960), II, p. 142. 62 Giuseppina de Sandre Gasparini, “La pietà laicale”, Storia di Venezia, 2, L’età del comune, pp. 929-961.

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through the shared control of the recruitment of nuns and the shared administration of their wealth or estates, which increasingly strengthened their common political and social ambitions. They quickly applied the same common interest to the political establishment. Lastly, it should come as no surprise that, after the Serrata and the success of a definitive political rank, the interest in nunneries changed, although it did not stop forever.

THE CATHEDRAL CHAPTER OF BARCELONA AND THE URBAN ELITES AT THE END TH OF THE 15 CENTURY1 JULIA CONESA SORIANO UNIVERSITÉ PARIS-SORBONNE AND UNIVERSITÉ DE LYON

As an institution in charge of Barcelona cathedral, the chapter had important ties with the secular society, first through its religious functions (liturgical activities, celebration of anniversaries), but also through its economic functions (the cathedral owned lands, levied taxes and collected income). It is through these two aspects that historiography typically investigates the chapter. Secular society is viewed as the entirety of the faithful, and its relation to the chapter therefore assumes a religious setting in one way or another. However, a chapter was first and foremost, a group of individuals. The canonry constituted a high function in the Church hierarchy, only second to the bishop. For this reason, the cathedral canons’ social origins were often prestigious. Yet, there is a shortage of detailed studies on Barcelona’s society at the end of the 15th century. The references on this subject are the works of Jaume Vicens Vives,2 Carme Batlle3 for the middle of the century, and Maria Adela Fargas Peñarrocha4 about the Catalan urban elite in the 16th century, starting from the 1470s. However, it is from a more socially oriented approach we would like to look into the Barcelona cathedral chapter, considering it not just as an

1

Abbreviation used: ACB, Arxiu Capitular de Barcelona. Jaume Vicens Vives, Ferran II i la Ciutat de Barcelona (1479-1516) (Barcelona: Universitat de Catalunya-Facultat de Filosofia i Lletres i Pedagogia, 1936-1937). 3 Carme Batlle, La crisis social y económica de Barcelona a mediados del siglo XV, 3 vols (Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas-Universitat de Barcelona-Facultad Filosofía y Letras, 1973). 4 Maria Adela Fargas, Família i poder a Catalunya. 1516-1626. Les estratègies de consolidació de la classe dirigent (Barcelona: Fundació Noguera, 1997). 2

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institution, but as a group of individuals from the urban upper class enjoying privileged relationships with this elite. But, exactly what elite are we talking about? Without dwelling in too much detail on the multiple meanings of the term elite5, we will consider it as referring to what we could call the ruling classes of Barcelona: these family groups which held the highest offices and key positions in the municipality, groups often described as oligarchies in the historiography. The ciutadans honrats would be one of these groups, a loosely defined category of the urban patricians, which constituted the mà major of the town council, formalised by a royal privilege in 1510. The great merchant families and nobility can also be added to these ciutadans honrats. The question we address is about the ties between the chapter and the secular society of Barcelona. For this, let us consider the chapter not as an institution independent from society, with only punctual contacts during religious offices or while collecting property taxes, but as a true observatory of this society. We will focus on the period immediately after the 1462-72 civil war; that is the last quarter of the 15th century, when King Ferdinand II intervened in the social organisation of the city. He created a lottery system to regulate access to the municipal offices and allowed the nobility to take part in it, while instituting the selective register (matrícula) of ciutadans honrats, a limited access group. This approach brings us to contemplate several kinds of connections between the chapter and the group we could call ‘the Barcelona ruling elite’. How was this elite involved in the cathedral’s activities? To what elite did the canons belong, and what was their representation in the chapter? What did the chapter mean to the ruling class of Barcelona? Was it just an opportunity to put their youngest sons into a prestigious institution, or was it, for these families who tended to monopolise urban offices, another key position? The present study is a work in progress and can only provide initial findings and proposed research areas for further research. First, we will briefly cover the canons connected to the urban elites through familial relationships or personal ties. Then we will try to qualify their familial and political connections.

5

See: Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, “Les élites urbaines: aperçus problématiques (France, Angleterre, Italie)”, Actes des congrès de la Société des historiens médiévistes de l'enseignement supérieur public (Rome: École française de Rome, 1996), pp. 9-28.

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1. The members of the chapter at the end of the 15th century Forty canons composed the Barcelona chapter. A notarial book (llibre notarial) of the chapter6 dating from the 15th century allows us to identify fifty-three canons between 1472 and 1492. However, it is impossible to establish the social profile of each of them. Using the records of deliberations (actas capitulares) and the administration books, we can establish a list of canons attending the chapter’s meetings and those who held positions of authority in the ecclesiastical hierarchy or administrative responsibility inside the chapter. These were active canons in the chapter – the rest were probably honorary members. We can add fourteen more canons mentioned in the actas capitulares to those identified in the notarial book. Among them, forty-one members of the chapter attended at least two meetings between 1472 and 1492. The rest came very infrequently. Of these forty-one members, twenty-nine occupied, at one time or another, a function inside the chapter – vicar of the bishop, dean, archdeacon, or were delegated to the accounts of institutions like the Caritat, the Pia Almoina, the anniversaries, sacristy, pastrim, Fabrica, and, in one case, the hospital of Santa Creu. This gives us a list of sixty-seven canons identified for the 1472-93 period. At this point of our research, a methodological problem arises. Due to a lack of available prosopographical studies about Barcelona at that time, few houses have family trees or documents showing the relationships between them: at most, the houses of the Gualbes or the Setantís have some relevant information available about them.7 Therefore, we must proceed with caution, relying primarily on anthroponomy, and the register published by Francisco José Roca Morales of the ciutadans honrats and clergy present at the Cortes.8 6

ACB, Caritat o mensa capitular; administració general de la Caritat. Llevadors, capbreus, inventaris, specula. Llibres notarials. 2, 1411-1505 ‘Llibre de la rebuda de capes y allongaments d’elles, tant del Rvrm.Sr.Bisbe com de les Dignitats pabordiies i canonicats. Item per rahó de la “annata mortis”. Item de la capella te fer lo Sr. Bisbe. La qual rebuda entra en mà del Chariter, començat en lo any MCCCCXI; arriba fins a MD y més havant’. 7 See: Cristian Cortès, Els Setantí (Barcelona: Fundació Salvador Vives Casajuana, 1973). 8 Francisco José Morales, Prelados, abades mitrados, dignidades capitulares y caballeros de las Ordenes militares habilitados por el brazo eclesiástico en las Cortes del Principado de Cataluña: dinastías Trastámara y de Austria: siglos XV y

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From a careful examination of the names on this list, twelve canons among the active members were related to the patrician class. We will mainly focus on these twelve individuals.

2. The recruitment: which elites in the chapter? But who were these individuals? What connections did they have with the urban elite, and if so with which elite? As mentioned above, ‘the ruling elite’ of Barcelona was not homogeneous and refers to several families and social groups (ciutadans honrats, nobility, merchants). Given its prestige and wealth, was the chapter a reflection of Barcelona’s patrician class? Was it only a career path for the upper classes or did it have specific recruitment goals? As expected, the most prominent members of the chapter appear to belong to the important families in Barcelona. Twelve canons came from this social group, and were also part of the small circle of canons who took part in gatherings and held the main high offices: vicar of the bishop, archdeacons, or caritaterius (that is the clergy in charge of the Caritat, the administration running the prebends). The canons most involved in the chapter belonged to the local upper class. But from exactly what kind of social background did they come? The most represented social group among these canons was the ciutadans honrats. Six out of the twelve canons identified belonged to ciutadans honrats families: canons Dusay, Lull, Desplà, the two Gualbes, and Berenguer de Sos. These families controlled municipal power by placing their members in key city offices.9 Can the chapter be considered one of these key offices? A good example is the canon Luís Desplà, who was born in 1444 and died in 1524. He attended many canonical gatherings (ten between 1474 and 1491) and was also in charge of the Caritat and the Pia Almoina (the charity). Above all, he had high-level functions inside the cathedral, as he was first archdeacon. This function implied a strong relationship with the bishop, since archdeacons were designated by the bishop, and he himself

XVI, 2 vols. (Madrid: Instituto Salazar Castro-Hidalguía, 1999); Francisco José Morales, Ciudadanos y burgueses honrados habilitados como sindicos del brazo real en las Cortes del Principado de Cataluña. Dinastías de Trastámara y de Austria, siglos XV y XVI (1410-1599) (Madrid: Instituto Salazar Castro-Hidalguía, 1995). 9 Agustí Durán, Barcelona en la seva historia (Barcelona: Curial, 1973), I, p.403.

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became bishop in 1509.10 He thus seems to have had a key position in the ecclesiastical hierarchy and, at the same time, was an important member of the cathedral chapter. However, several members of the Desplà family, ciutadans honrats registered on the matrícula of 1510, were also well integrated into the municipal government: counsellors, members of the Cortes, the Generalitat and the local administration (consul de Mar, batlle, síndic).11 Luís’ ecclesiastical career seems to be part of this strategy. The Desplàs managed to be present in the chapter throughout the 15th century. In the first half of the century, two canons called Francesc Desplà are mentioned in the registers. Another canon, Guillem Ramon Desplà, carried on with this family tradition in the 16th century.12 These are not exceptional examples. Other families of ciutadans honrats, the Dusays or the Lulls, sent several members to the chapter. For instance, the Dusays had one of their relatives in the chapter from the 1470s to the 1490s. Even if we can only assume his familial link, a canon called Ramón Dusay attended a meeting of the chapter on 29th July 147613 and a canon called Joan Dusay attended another meeting in 1491.14 These are not just examples of personal careers, but an indication that whole families of ciutadans honrats accessed the chapter. Some members of the main Barcelona merchant families must be added to this initial social group, notably the Sirvents, through the canon Luís Sirvent. The Sirvents were merchants whose influence in the city was almost comparable to the one of ciutadans honrats – they even obtained this title in the 16th century. Luís’ father was a merchant in Barcelona, his grandfather was a royal advisor, and the family was involved in the city’s political circles: Berenguer Sirvent was a representative of Barcelona in Syria from 1429 to 1437, and Joan Sirvent was comissari de la Cambra Apostolica15 in 1416. 10

Actually he was elected bishop but refused the position. See: Manual de novells ardits vulgarment apellat Dietari del Antich Consell barceloní (1340-1446), ed. by Frederic Schwartz and Francesc Carreras i Candi (Barcelona: Henrich y Companyia, 1892-1918), III, p.193. 11 Durán, Barcelona en la seva historia, I, pp. 403-404. 12 Durán, Barcelona en la seva historia, I, p. 404. 13 ACB, Crehueta, fols. 47 r.-47 v. 14 ACB, Crehueta, fol. 66 v. 15 See: Damien Coulon, Barcelone et le grand commerce d'Orient au Moyen Âge: un siècle de relations avec l'Egypte et la Syrie-Palestine (ca.1330-ca.1430) (Madrid and Barcelona: Casa de Velázquez-Institut Europeu de la Mediterrània, 2004); Carme Batlle, “La ciutat de Barcelona i el Cisma”, Jornades sobre el Cisma

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But can we further say that the cathedral chapter was part of a network of influence? Two Gualbes (Pau and Nicolau Ferrer) were present throughout the second half of the 15th century. Furthermore, the Gualbes were connected by marriage to the Dusays, the Lulls, and the Salaverds who were connected to the Desplàs – and all these family names appeared in the active list of canons we drew up. The chapter registers give no details about the proceedings, we only have access to the decisions made. It is therefore difficult to know if these alliances really had an influence on the chapter’s decisions. However, not all the main lineages of Barcelona were involved in it. For instance, the families Fivaller, Sapila and Marimon had nobody in the chapter. We can therefore assume the chapter was connected to specific family networks, one of them focused on the Gualbes. A further study of these alliances will allow us to be more specific about these relationships. The leading members of the chapter were therefore part of family networks that monopolised the main municipal offices in a variety of fields: politics, economics and religion. However, the chapter was more than just a reflection of the urban oligarchy, in particular with the presence of the nobility. The nobility was not allowed access to the municipal government, since it could not be part of the municipal council, the Consell de Cent. But within the Church, nothing prevented the noblemen from having prestigious careers in Barcelona. We can infer that they used the chapter for this purpose. The canons Joan Andres Sorts, Jaume Fiella, Antoni Agullana, and Gaspar Peyró were nobles, from both the ancient nobility and recently ennobled lineages. The vicar Joan Andres de Sorts belonged to a family of donzells (squires).16 As for Jaume Fiella, his family was linked to the Catalan nobility by marriage: his sister married the squire Guillermo de Tord y de Serradell, son of the lords of Sant Pau de Casserres and Carlanes de Montmajor from Berga (Catalonia); his nephew, Miguel de Fiella Olim de Tord even reached the title of knight in the reign of Charles I (15161556).17 As for the canon Gaspar Peyró, his father, Juan Pedro de Peyró, d’Occident a Catalunya, les Illes i el Pais Valencià, 2 vols. (Barcelona: Institut d’estudis catalans, 1979), p. 322. 16 Francisco José Morales, Prelados, abades mitrados, dignidades capitulares y caballeros de las Ordenes militares habilitados por el brazo eclesiástico en las Cortes del Principado de Cataluña: dinastía de Trastamara y de Austria: siglos XV y XVI, 1410-1599 (Madrid: Instituto Salazar Castro-Hidalguía, 1999), II, p.169. 17 Morales, Prelados, abades mitrados, dignidades capitulares y caballeros de las Ordenes militares habilitados por el brazo eclesiástico en las Cortes del

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Doctor en derecho, royal advisor, king secretary, and Protonotario of Catalonia and of the Crown of Aragon, received the title of knight from King Ferdinand II of Aragon in 1496 in accordance with a military privilege. Peyró’s brother, Pere, became squire and Escribano de Su majestad el Rey de Aragón18 (“Writer of his Majesty the King of Aragon”). We can also mention dean Berenguer de Sos: he belonged to a family halfway between the ciutadans honrats and the nobility, given that his father, Leonardo de Sos y de Relat, was a ciutadan honrat who became knight in 1454; his grandfather, Jaume de Sos y de Gualbes, held municipal offices and was a royal advisor and treasurer at the royal court.19 Like the ciutadans honrats, those canons played a very active part in the functioning of the chapter. For instance, Gaspar Peyró attended no less than eleven meetings during the period 1472-91; Berenguer de Sos and Jaume Fiella were deans, and Joan Andres Sorts was the most present bishop vicar. As the nobility could not have access to urban secular power, the cathedral seems to have been a way for them to acquire status in the city. Above all, it appears that the chapter was not only a reflection of Barcelona’s urban oligarchy, but also had distinctive features, like the presence of nobility, and also that its members came from a geographical area wider than Barcelona. For example, Antoni Agullana, vicar between 1476 and 1486 (the highest position in the chapter), was not from Barcelona. His father was a squire from a powerful family in Girona, and also a royal adviser.20 He was not by any means a member of the local Barcelona social elite.

Principado de Cataluña: dinastía de Trastamara y de Austria: siglos XV y XVI, 1410-1599, I, p.197. 18 Morales, Prelados, abades mitrados, dignidades capitulares y caballeros de las Ordenes militares habilitados por el brazo eclesiástico en las Cortes del Principado de Cataluña: dinastía de Trastamara y de Austria: siglos XV y XVI, 1410-1599, II, p.84. 19 Morales, Prelados, abades mitrados, dignidades capitulares y caballeros de las Ordenes militares habilitados por el brazo eclesiástico en las Cortes del Principado de Cataluña: dinastía de Trastamara y de Austria: siglos XV y XVI, 1410-1599, II, p.170. 20 Morales, Prelados, abades mitrados, dignidades capitulares y caballeros de las Ordenes militares habilitados por el brazo eclesiástico en las Cortes del Principado de Cataluña: dinastía de Trastamara y de Austria: siglos XV y XVI, 1410-1599, I, p.78.

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Nevertheless, despite these slight differences, the chapter seems to have been ruled by the ciutadans honrats – not necessarily the most numerous social group inside the cathedral, but still its main operators.

3. The Chapter and the ‘political elite’ 3. 1. The ruling elite in Barcelona We must now identify the actual interactions between the members of the chapter and the Barcelona ruling class. We will here define ‘elite’ as the political elite, that is, the people who ruled the city, who were involved in the municipal government and were connected by personal and familial ties. Are the members of the chapter to be considered part of this influential network? They barely appear in the municipal sources and when they do, they are shown as the chapter representatives in religious ceremonies: for example the corpus Christi procession or the celebrations of the victories against the Muslims. But does this mean they were isolated from the political office? Their family connections related them to the consellers: between 1472 and 1493, eleven consellers were related to canons. The Rúbriques de Bruniquer21 allow us to know the exact composition of this council. Between 1472 and 1492, eleven of the 105 consellers (five a year) can be linked to the chapter: two Gualbes, four Lulls, one Dusay, two Leoparts, one Camps, and one Sala. The municipal government of Barcelona was divided into two administrations: the Consell de Cent and five Consellers. The Consell de Cent or Consell de cent jurats was a deliberating assembly dating from 1265, though its name may have been used to designate the whole municipal government created by James I of Aragon in the 13th century.22 The Consell had to make sure the Consellers’ decisions regarding the protection of the city, food supplies, public works organisation, trade control and administration were applied.23 It was organised into three groups or three mans (hands): the mà menor (craftsmen), the mà mitjana 21 Esteve Gilabert, Rúbriques de Bruniquer: ceremonial dels magnífichs consellers y regiment de la Ciutat de Barcelona (Barcelona: Impr. d’Henrich, 1912-1916) I, pp.41-43. 22 Jaume Sobrequés, Llibre Verd de Barcelona (Barcelona: Editorial BaseAjuntament de Barcelona, 2004), p. 11. 23 See: Jaume Dantí, El Consell de Cent de la ciutat de Barcelona (1249-1714) (Barcelona: Rafel Dalmau, 2002).

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(merchants, drapers, ship-owners etc.), and the mà major (the ciutadans honrats). There was no place for the clergy in this structure. However, the five Consellers played leading roles. They were chosen from among the members of the Consell de Cent and were in charge of fiscal authority, trade control, city supplies, justice and law enforcement. Their authority widened during the Middle Ages to include health, price control, public works, weights and measures. The ciutadans honrats dominated most of the Consell de Cent and almost monopolised the position of Conseller.24 Therefore, the ruling families, who placed their members in the chapter, did the same in the municipal government and administration. A small number of families usually monopolised the main municipal functions – not only the Consellers. We have already discussed the case of the Gualbes, Desplàs, and Sirvents. According to the Manual de novells ardits (official account held by the municipality), the Lulls also held many urban prestigious offices at the end of the 15th century. We find a certain Pere Lull25 as Consul de Mar, a certain Luís Lull26 as city lawyer, and a clavari called Joan Lull27 in charge of finance. On a smaller scale, the Salas or Roviras were also involved in municipal administration – two family names that feature among the active canons of the cathedral. Our aim is not to identify all the families the Barcelona canons belonged to, but rather to underline which canons seemed to be related to these families. Several leading members of the Chapter were linked to the municipal authorities through their family connections, in particular the two Gualbes, the two Lulls, but also the Salas or Roviras. Not being involved in the municipal government did not imply a lack of relations between the canons and the municipality, given the existence of family ties with the canons.

3. 2. The Generalitat The canons’ personal careers show they were not isolated from political responsibilities. Seven out of the sixty-seven canons listed were involved in the Generalitat, as presidents or auditors of accounts. 24 Francesc Xavier Hernández, Barcelona, Història d’una ciutat (Barcelona: Llibres de l’índex, 1993), p. 67-93. 25 He was elected for this function on 15th April 1481 (Manual de novells ardits, III, p. 16). 26 He was elected for this function on 30th July 1485 and died on 5th May 1490 (Manual de novells ardits, III, p.49 and 83). 27 On 17th January 1486 (Manual de novells ardits, III, p.52).

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For example, Berenguer de Sos was the president of the Generalitat,28 and as such, was one of the three deputies in charge of ecclesiastical affairs. Dean in the chapter and archbishop of Sassari, he was the president of the Generalitat from 1479 to 1482.29 A second member of the chapter was later elected to this position: Nicolau Ferrer de Gualbes i Desvalls, from 1503 until his death in 1504. According to the Dietari de la Generalitat, five active canons were auditors of accounts between 1472 and 1492, amongst them, Gaspar Peyró from 1488 to 1491.30 Three others were elected at the beginning of the 16th century: Francesc de Mila in August 1500,31 Antoni Codó on 5th August 1507,32 and Benet Miquel on 1st August 1518.33 They all seem to have reached this position after having been canons in the cathedral chapter for a long time.

28

As for earlier dates, we can also mention the canons Pere de Palou (1434-1437), Jaume de Cardona i de Candia (1443-1446) who was also bishop of Vic, and Francesc Colom (1464-1467). 29 Catalunya y la Generalitat al llarg de la nostra història, ed. by Joan B. Culla, Montserrat Sagarra et alii (Barcelona: Generalitat de Catalunya, 1983), p. 262. His election is mentioned in the Dietaris de la Generalitat on 7th August 1479: Aquest dia jurà lo reverend mossèn Berenguer de Sos, canonge e deguà de Barchinona e elet en archabisbe de Sàcer, novament elegit en deputat (“on that day lord Berenguer de Sos, canon and dean of Barcelona and elected archbischop of Sassari, newly elected deputy, took the oath”). Dietaris de la Generalitat de Catalunya (1411-1714). I (1411-1539), 10 vols., ed. by Josep María Sans i Travé (Barcelona: Generalitat de Catalunya, 1994), p. 235. 30 Dietaris de la Generalitat de Catalunya (1411-1714), p. 260. 31 En aquest die juraren en Barchinona mossèn Martí Joan Botella, deputat reyal, mossèn Francí del Milà, canonge de Barchinona, mossèn Lluýs Meca, donzell, e mossèn Jacme Guinard, ciutadà de Gerona, oÿdors de comptes del General (“on that day lord Martí Joan Botella, royal deputy, lord Francí del Milà, canon of Barcelona, lord Lluís Meca, squire, and lord Jacme Guinard, citizen of Gerona, auditors of accounts for the General, took the oath in Barcelona”). Dietaris de la Generalitat de Catalunya (1411-1714), p.298. 32 Aquest die partí en Bernat Morera per Barchinona, ab letres dirigides a mossèn Anthoni Codó, canonge de Barchinona, notificant-li la extracció feta en ell en oÿdor de comptes (“on that day Bernat Morera left for Barcelona, with letters for lord Anthoni Codó, canon of Barcelona, telling him he was chosen as auditor of accounts”). Dietaris de la Generalitat de Catalunya (1411-1714), p. 318. 33 En aquest die juraren mossèn Bernat de Corbera, canonge de Barchinona, mossèn Perot Pou, cavaller, mossèn Gispert Mateu, ciutadà de Leyda, deputats; mossèn Benet Miquel, canonge de Barcelona, mossèn Cosme Vallgornera, donzell, oÿdors de comptes (“on that day lord Bernat de Corbera, canon of Barcelona, lord Perot Pou, knight, lord Gispert Mateu, citizen of Lleida, deputies; lord Benet

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At first, these deputies were elected by the members of the Cortes, but the system evolved and from 1488, the new deputies were chosen by the outgoing deputies.34 Thus, we can assume connections between the canons and the former deputies. Given that several of them, as well as several auditors of accounts, were members of the chapter, it is hardly surprising that this background was propitious for the nomination of deputies from Barcelona cathedral. Therefore a certain influential network, or at least evidence of personal ties with the Catalan political elite, comes to light.

3. 3. The Parliament (Cortes) Twelve canons were also delegates to the Courts of Aragon. The ecclesiastical representatives at the Cortes (the brazo eclesiástico) could be prelates sitting in their own name, cardinals, archbishops, bishops, mitred abbots, or priors of some orders, but also ‘procurators’ (procuradores) sitting as representatives of an archbishop, bishop, abbot, prior, or even as administrators of a bishopric or monastery during a sede vacante period. They could also represent – and this is interesting to us – cathedral chapters. These procurators had to be Catalans who had never been involved in a lawsuit and had to occupy an ecclesiastical role, such as canons. Beyond these conditions, they had to belong either to an illustrious lineage of Catalonia feudal magnates or to a family with a noble title – knights or squires, or even to a family of ciutadans honrats.35 Canons sent to the Cortes were also the most active inside the chapter and most of them were the same individuals we mentioned as being tied to the oligarchy: Vicar Antoni Agullana, Archdeacon Luís Desplà, Dean Jaume Fiella, Guillem Lull, Gaspar Peyró, Luís Sirvent, Vicar Joan Andres de Sorts, and Berenguer de Sorts, who, even if he did not regularly attend the debates, was all the same, the official dean. This situation has two explanations: on the one hand, the leading members of the chapter used to have high-level social origins and held concurrently prestigious ecclesiastical functions. On the other hand, the canonry in Barcelona Miquel, canon of Barcelona, lord Cosme Vallgornera, squire, auditors of accounts, took the oath”). Dietaris de la Generalitat de Catalunya (1411-1714), p.439. 34 In 1488, it was decided that the deputies and the auditors of accounts would nominate twelve people, from among which their successors would be chosen at random. See: Catalunya y la Generalitat al llarg de la nostra història, p. 259. 35 Morales, Prelados, abades mitrados, dignidades capitulares y caballeros de las Ordenes militares habilitados por el brazo eclesiástico en las Cortes del Principado de Cataluña: dinastía de Trastamara y de Austria: siglos XV y XVI, 1410-1599, I, pp. 59-63.

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allowed them to have political functions at the level of Catalonia and the Crown of Aragon. Besides, except for three of them, they did not represent the chapter at the Cortes, but another prelate. Antonio de Monterder, at the Cortes of 1480 and 1485, was the vicar general of the bishopric, Jaume Fiella (Cortes of 1493, 1495, 1503, 1510, 1512 and 1515) was dean of the chapter, and Guillem Lull (1473-79) represented the Bishop of Barcelona. The rest represented Catalan prelates: Joan Andres de Sorts and Pere Vinyes represented the Archbishop of Tarragona (1454 and 1468 for de Sorts, 1493 for Pere Vinyes); Antoni Agullana, the Bishop of Urgell; and Berenguer de Sos, the Bishop of Lleida (1454 and 1460). A network between prelates emerges. Again, the ties with the political elites seem to be more due to personal relationships than to official connections between the canonical institution and the other Barcelonese institutions or lobbies. Somehow, the chapter canons were really part of the ruling elite by being in charge of some high offices: at the Catalan level with the Generalitat, and at the level of the Crown of Aragon with the Cortes. Nevertheless, they acted less as canons of the chapter than as members of families from the oligarchy. Thus, for historians, the chapter appears less as a strategic platform for such individuals than as an observation point of part of the urban oligarchy and its functioning.

Conclusion To conclude, considering the canons as individuals in Barcelona society, and not only as clergymen, makes it possible to investigate the relationships between the chapter and Barcelona’s ruling elite. A more detailed analysis of secular sources, in particular an investigation of Barcelonese society and a significant number of canons’ personal careers, should make it possible to corroborate our findings and be more specific about the relationships between the chapter and the Barcelonese ruling elite.

COMPLINE AND ITS PROCESSIONS IN THE CONTEXT OF CASTILIAN DOMINICAN NUNNERIES MERCEDES PÉREZ UNIVERSIDAD DE OVIEDO

1. Liturgy of Dominican Nuns in the Middle Ages: sources for its study and other considerations1 In only a few years, the Order of Preachers developed a rite of its own following that of the cathedral canons. Notwithstanding the influence of local churches over the initial times, the Dominican Liturgy quickly reached a uniformity that was in keeping with the universal vocation of the Order of Preachers. Since the compilation of the first Constitutions of the Friars by Raymond of Peñafort in 1241, the use of the same liturgical texts for the whole Order was prescribed so as to supress the initial differences among provinces.2 However, this clause seems to have been ignored, and new measures were subsequently adopted to achieve the desired uniformity. 1

I am particularly grateful to Lorena Martínez for revising this text. My thanks go as well to professor Eduardo Carrero for helping me with dating the Profession ritual of Segovia, María Jesús Galán Vera for the pictures of Santo Domingo de Toledo and Ivan Calvo for drawing my attention towards this issue and his constant help. Abbreviations used: AGOP, Archivum Generale Ordinis Praedicatorum (Rome); AHN, Archivo Histórico Nacional (Madrid); AMSDL, Archivo del Monasterio de Santo Domingo de Lequeitio; ASDRS, Archivo de Santo Domingo el Real de Segovia; ASDRT, Archivo de Santo Domingo el Reald de Toledo; BL, British Library; BNE, Biblioteca Nacional de España; BNF, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, 2 Raymond Creytens, “Les Constitutions des Frères Prêcheurs dans la redaction de S. Raymond de Peñafort (1241)”, Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, 18 (1948), pp. 5-68, footnote 31. Regarding pre-1254 liturgical books, see: Philip Gleenson, “Dominican liturgical manuscripts from before 1254”, Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, 42 (1972), pp. 81-135.

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Eventually, the General Chapter of Buda (1254) entrusted the Mastergeneral Humbert of Romans with the definitive revision, correction and unification of texts, which was passed at the General Chapter of Paris (1256). The corpus of fourteen books, revised and compiled by Romans, which constitute the Ecclesiasticum officium of the Dominicans, is contained in a codex called Prototype, preserved in the General Archive of the Order at Santa Sabina (Rome).3 While the Roman Rite evolved into new forms throughout the following centuries, the Dominican Liturgy kept close to the corpus approved in 1256, undergoing no substantial changes until the Second Vatican Council.4 Nevertheless, local differences lingered on for a long time in books like lectionaries, and in some parts of portable breviaries.5

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AGOP, Serie XV, Ms.XVI, L1. This codex, coming from the convent of SaintJacques in Paris, was digitalised in Berlin in 2002. It contains the fourteen books: ordinary, martyrology, collectionary, processional, psalter, breviary, lectionary, antiphonary, gradual, pulpitary, conventual missal, epistolary, evangelary and missal for the minor altars. In 1999, a conference on the prototype was held in Rome. Aux Origines de la Liturgie Dominicaine: Le Manuscrit Santa Sabina XIV L1, ed. by Léonard E. Boyle and Pierre-Marie Gy (Paris and Rome: École française de Rome and CNRS éditions, 2004). Since every text and rubric of the Order was based on the prototype, each province was provided with several copies of it. One of them, containing four of the fourteen books, is preserved in the convent of San Esteban of Salamanca. Bernardo Fueyo, “El exemplar de la liturgia dominica de Salamanca”, Archivo Dominicano, 28 (2007), pp. 81-118. 4 In spite of the validity of the Eccesiasticum Officium after the Council of Trent, these books had become inappropriate; hence the General Chapters appointed successive commissions to compile a Ceremonial. However, it was not carried out until 1868, when the Caeremoniale iuxta ritum Sacri Ordinis Praedicatorum was enacted by the Master-general Jandel. This book was used until the General Chapter of River Forest (1968), when the new Constitutions, revised according to the Vatican II regulations, were passed and the revised Roman Rite was imposed to the Order. Eventually, the Indicationes pro celebrationibus liturgicis in Ordine Fratrum Praedicatorum, which intended to preserve some of the characteristics of the Dominican Rite, were passed by the General Chapter of Madonna dell`Arco (1974). Constantino Gilardi, “Liturgia, cerimoniale e architettura secondo l`Ecclesiasticum Officium dei Fratri predicatori”, Il tempo di Pio V, Pio V nel tempo:atti del convegno internazionale di studi, Bosco Marengo, Alessandria, 1113 marzo 2004, ed by Fulvio Cervini and Carla Enrica Spantigati (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 2006), pp. 1-77, especially p. 52. 5 Bernardo Fueyo, “El Breviarium Portatile (s. XIV-XV) de Santo Domingo el Real de Toledo”, Toletana, 19 (2008), pp. 161-188, especially p. 168.

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With regard to the liturgy of Dominican nuns, the main problem we will encounter is the lack of references to it in both Constitutions and Acts of General and Provincial Chapters. Since the liturgical practice established by the friars was compulsory for the whole Order, the nuns’ liturgy is supposed to have followed the same dispositions without notable differences. However, liturgical books compiled for them may enable us to have a more accurate picture of the use of the liturgy in each particular Dominican nunnery, with its own individual peculiarities and local varieties. Nonetheless, this line of research has hitherto remained almost unexplored, probably due to the difficulties that consulting monastic archives implies, the lack of a comprehensive catalogue of liturgical books in most nunneries and, mainly, to the disappearance and scattering of most medieval manuscripts. However, not only contemporary negligence should be blamed for this loss, but many manuscripts were likely destroyed during the Order’s reform between the 15th and the 16th centuries. Indeed, many liturgical books were revised at that time with the purpose of shortening the Divine Office and suppressing both variety and confusion, which had been introduced throughout the centuries. The General Chapter of Salamanca (1551) had a great implication, as it established the reform of both the Breviary and the Lectionary. In addition, it also ordered a full revision of every liturgical book printed in Spain up until then.6 As a result of these dispositions, manuscripts from earlier times which did not fit the reformed rite had to be remade. Furthermore, due to the availability of printed books, many manuscripts without musical notation lost their value and were therefore destroyed or abandoned.7 In contrast to that, choral books with musical notation were preserved, and remained in use thanks to the difficulty of printing them. 6 Immediately after the Council of Trent in 1568, Pio V enacted a new reformed Breviary and a new Missal, achieving more uniformity within the Roman Church. However, breviaries and missals with Papal approval and with at least two centuries of existence were not annulled, and the Dominican Rite was one of those. Emilio Colunga, “La liturgia dominicana”, La Ciencia Tomista, 14 (1916), pp. 317334, especially, p. 325; Antolín González, “La vida litúrgica en la Orden de Predicadores: Estudio de su legislación 1216-1980”, Monumenta Ordinis Praedicatorum Historica. Dissertationes Historicae, 20 (Rome: Istituto Storico Domenicano, 1981), p. 246; Antolín González, “Liturgia dominicana. Orígenes y presente”, Archivo Dominicano, 25 (2004), pp. 325-337. 7 Fueyo, “El Breviarium Portatile (s. XIV-XV) de Santo Domingo el Real de Toledo”, p. 182.

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Figure 1: Salve Regina in The Poissy Antiphonal. Melbourne. State Library of Victoria. Ms. ARESF096.1/R66A, f. 935v (Photo: State Library of Victoria).

A vast and extraordinary group of both annotated and un-annotated liturgical books from the outstanding nunnery of St. Louis de Poissy have survived, scattered around different libraries and private collections. Noteworthy amidst this ensemble, for example, is the Antiphonal, an

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annotated book written between 1335 and 1345 and preserved in the State Library of Victoria.8 By contrast, the portable breviary of Santo Domingo de Toledo, which was found by chance in the course of some repair works undertaken in the novitiate, belongs to the group of un-annotated liturgical books. This book was intended for the personal use of a nun and not for recitation in the choir. It contains three different parts, independent in origin, but assembled later in a single volume.9 The third part was compiled for this nunnery in Toledo between 1460 and 1470, as proved by the inclusion of the festivities of the Archdiocese of Toledo, the reiterative use of feminine in the rubrics, and the presence of the monastery’s anagram. This book must have been hidden in this cavity because of the reform, since breviaries were considered luxury items by many reformers, particularly those in manuscript form.10 In addition to devotional books, breviaries and diurnals, the well-stocked library of this royal nunnery also houses many exemplars of choral books, i.e., books that were not abandoned and replaced by printed books.11 Books without notation were left behind, but most of them disappeared and the sources are extremely laconic about them. Nevertheless, one of these rare pieces of information is contained in a letter from the archive of this Toledan nunnery. As stated in it, Queen Eleanor of Alburquerque requested an Ordinary written in vernacular at the beginning of the 15th century from her cousin, Mary of Castile, who was a nun and later prioress of the nunnery.12 The purpose of this loan was probably to order a copying of the

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State Library of Victoria. Ms RARESF 096.1 R66A. Joan Naughton, “The Poissy Antiphonary in its Royal Monastic Milieu”, La Trobe Library Journal 51-52 (1993), pp. 38-49. 9 ASDRT, Ms 06/508. Bernardo Fueyo, “El Breviarium Portatile (s XIV-XV) de Santo Domingo el Real de Toledo”, Ciencia Tomista, 136 (2009), pp. 363-398; Bernardo Fueyo, “Bloque primitivo del Breviario 06/ 508 de Santo Domingo el Real de Toledo”, Archivo Dominicano, 30 (2009), pp.103-144. 10 In a letter written to Maddalena Picco della Mirandola in 1495, Savonarola described a private breviary as a threat to the nun’s vow of poverty, and prompted nuns to use printed breviaries owned in common, or no breviary at all. Ann Roberts, Dominican Women and Renaissance Art, The Convent of San Domenico of Pisa (Cornwall: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2008), p. 26. 11 The eldest are some antiphonaries dating back to the second half of the 15th century. A catalogue of those manuscripts can be found in: María Jesús Galán Vera et alii, “La música en los conventos dominicos de Toledo (siglos XVI –XVIII)”, Anales Toledanos, 41 (2005), pp. 255-316, especially, pp. 279-293. 12 ASDRT, doc. n. 117. The letter is dated between 1416 and 1424. Fueyo, “El Breviarium Portatile (s XIV-XV) de Santo Domingo el Real de Toledo”, p.184.

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Figure 2: Portable breviary from Santo Domingo de Toledo. Letany and Commendatio Animarum. AMSDRT, Final. Ca. 1460-1470. (Photo: Mercedes. P. Vidal).

manuscript in another Dominican nunnery, Santa María la Real in Medina del Campo, which had been endowed by Eleanor herself.13 Coming from 13 Santa María la Real of Medina del Campo had its origin in a Premonstratensian nunnery, which was transformed into a Dominican convent in 1402 with the approval of Benedict XIII. In 1418 Queen Eleanor of Alburquerque donated her adjoining palaces to the nuns, in order to enlarge the building. Juan López, Tercera parte de la historia general de Sancto Domingo y de su Orden de Predicadores

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this latter nunnery, we find another piece of information regarding missing manuscripts. According to this document, the prior of San Pablo de Peñafiel sold some books for the Divine Office to Aldonza Manuel, prioress of Santa María la Real.14 The Dominican nunnery of Unterliden, in Colmar, represents a remarkable exception for having preserved plenty of books dating from the 13th and 14th centuries, whereas only a limited number of books dated to the 15th century have survived in it. This is striking, since the nunnery was reformed in this latter century, so the old books would, presumably, have been replaced by the new ones. This huge number of liturgical books enables us to make an accurate reconstruction of the liturgy within this Alsatian nunnery.15 Likewise, both the ceremonial and processional from the Dominican nunnery of Oetenbach, dating back to the 14th century, provide valuable information on the liturgical celebration within this monastery.16 Obviously, the importance of processionals above other liturgical books is fundamental for understanding the use of processional liturgy. Notwithstanding the documented existence of these books in the male monasteries, from the 13th century onwards, almost all the processionals preserved come from Dominican nunneries.17

(Valladolid, 1613, ed. Facsímile; Valladolid: Maxtor, 2003), f. 28. 14 These books, unfortunately now lost, had been brought to Medina del Campo by Fray Ferrand, by request of Johan Carrillo. AHN, Instituciones Eclesiásticas, Clero regular, Dominicos, Medina del Campo, Leg. 7562, doc.14, cit. in: María Luz Fernández, El Monasterio de Santa María de las Dueñas “El Real” de la villa de Medina del Campo, también llamado Santa María de los Huertos en la Baja Edad Media (Madrid: Unidad de Publicaciones de la Universidad Politécnica de Madrid, 1992), p. 14. 15 Jeffrey F. Hamburger, “La Bibliothèque d`Unterlinden et l`art de la formation spirituelle”, Les dominicaines d`Unterlinden, 2 vols., ed by Madeline Blondel et alii (Paris: Somogy éditions d`art, 2000), I, pp. 110-159, especially, p. 123. 16 Wolfram Schneider-Lastin, “Zürich ZH, Oetenbach, Dominikanerinnen”, Helvetia Sacra, 4/5, (1999), pp. 1019-1053, cited in Carola Jäggi, “Architecture et disposition liturgique des couvents féminins dans le Rhin supérieur aux XIIIe et XVIe siècles”, Les dominicaines d’Unterlinden, I, pp. 89-107, especially, p. 101. 17 Jeffery F. Hamburger, “Offices des Morts et Processionnaux selon l`usage des dominicains”, Les dominicaines d’Unterlinden, II, pp. 78-79. Processionals were small portable service-books made for the chantres but also for the other nuns participant in the processions. The major part of these texts consists of processional offices for chosen feast days, also conducted within the cloister. They used to be followed by the liturgy for Death and Burial.

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Figure 3: Profession ritual from Santo Domingo de Segovia. Mid-16th century (Photo: Mercedes. P. Vidal).

Besides the aforementioned Antiphonal, the extinct nunnery of SaintLouis de Poissy has provided us with a remarkable corpus of thirty-one processionals. Naughton has studied their evolution from the 14th century to circa 1540.18

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Michel Huglo, “Les processionnaux de Poissy”, Rituels: mélanges offerts à Pierre-Marie Gy, ed. by P. De Clerck and E. Palazzo (Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1990), pp. 339-346; Joan Naughton, “Books for a Dominican Nun’s Choir: Illustrated Liturgical Manuscripts at Saint-Louis de Poissy, c. 1330-1350”, The Art of the Book. Its Place in Medieval Worship, ed. by Margaret Manion and Bernard Muir (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 1998), pp. 67-109.

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Profession rituals were part of Processionals, but over time, they became separate books. One example of this kind of book, hitherto unknown, was housed in the library of Santo Domingo in Segovia. This manuscript, written in the vernacular probably in the mid-16th century, received a later addition of some sheets with musical notation.19 However, the fact is that nuns were not always able to find Dominican books and, consequently, they had to accept other books. An example of this is found in the letter from Chiara Gambacorta, prioress of San Domenico di Pisa, to a book dealer, accepting a lectionary or Bible, even though it did not belong to the Order of Preachers. She argued their urgent need for books, adding that a book exclusive to their Order would be, however, more useful for them.20 As well as purchasing books, women in many convents were also scribes and illuminators. This activity was even encouraged by some reformers, like Giovanni Dominici and Savonarola, and proof of it are the observant nunneries of San Domenico di Pisa, San Domenico di Lucca and San Jacopo di Ripoli. Nuns from the latter nunnery had produced liturgical manuscripts throughout the Middle Ages and went on making them after the invention of the printing press. Nonetheless, they were not indifferent to this revolution and, in fact, one of the earliest printing houses in Florence was established here by two friars from San Marco.21 19 ASDRS, Forma y manera de cómo las monjas del orden de Sancto Domingo de los Predicadores han de hacer profesión a sus prioras, s/f. Another exemplar, which dates back to 1571, is preserved in the Archive of the Dominican convent of Santa Maria di Castello, coming from the extinct Dominican nunnery Ss. Giacomo e Filippo. Sara Badano, “I fondi archivistici”, Monache domenicane a Genova, ed. by Carla Cavelli Traverso (Rome: De Luca Editori d`arte, 2010), pp. 159-168. Even more rare manuscripts are the Ordo ad novicias benedicendas, an example; Ordo for the reception and clothing of novices before their definitive profession. An exemplar of this kind of ritual, dated between 1500 and 1525 has been preserved, which probably comes from Santa Anna of Padova. It was written for a single novice, but was also revised and adapted for several novices in 1577 by adding plural forms. All its rubrics are written in the vernacular. This kind of ritual, for the use of Dominicans, and especially those written in the vernacular, seem to have been an oddity. Antoninus Hendrik Thomas, “La profession religieuse des Dominicains: formule, cérémonies, histoire”, Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, 39 (1969), pp. 5-52. 20 Roberts, Dominican Women and Renaissance Art, The Convent of San Domenico of Pisa, p. 26. 21 Susan Noakes, “The Development of the Book-market in Late Quattrocento Italia: Printers Failures and the Role of the Middle man”, Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 11 (1981), pp. 23-55; Melissa Conway, The Diario of the Printing Press of San Jacopo di Ripoli, 1476-1484: Commentary and

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A comprehensive survey in monastic archives and libraries would probably bring more unknown exemplars to light, to add to those that have been found by chance, as happened with the aforementioned breviary from Toledo. Furthermore, both individual and comparative studies of these sources would shed light on the particular characteristics of the Castilian nuns’ liturgy throughout the Middle Ages.22 Nevertheless, there are other sources to be taken into consideration when approaching this issue. Firstly, there are the buildings themselves, which constituted the context of liturgical performance. Particular features of some of these can help formulate hypotheses about the peculiarities of the celebration of some parts of the Divine Office. In addition, other types of sources provide outstanding information about the liturgical celebration in a particular monastery. These sources are contracts of construction, books of devotion, books for the cura monialium, monastic chronicles, etc.23 Despite the later origin of monastic chronicles, since they often continue secular tradition, it is convenient to take them into account, but always under critical awareness.24 Transcription (Florence, 1999). Melissa Moreton is currently working on a PhD Dissertation on Nuns` book production in 15th and 16th century Italy at the University of Iowa. 22 In this regard, it is worth noting the PhD Dissertation of Stefania Roncroffi about the liturgical books of the Dominican nunneries of Bologna: Sant`Agnese and Santa María Maddalena di Val di Pietra, which was published in 2009. Stefania Roncroffi, Psallite Sapienter. Codici Musicali delle Domenicane Bolognesi (Florence: Olschki, 2009). 23 A notable exemplar among devotional books was the Libro de Devociones y Oficios, compiled between 1462 and 1474 by Constanza de Castilla, prioress of the royal monastery of Santo Domingo de Madrid, and currently preserved in the Biblioteca Nacional de España (BNE, Ms. 7495). Despite being a small volume, apparently intended for personal devotion, some parts of this book were actually used in communal prayer in the choir. Moreover, the Oficio de los Clavos included in it, was indeed performed in this nunnery with the official permission of both the Pope and the Master-general of the Order. Constance. L. Wilkins, “El devocionario de Sor Constanza: otra voz femenina medieval”, Actas del XII Congreso de la Asociación Internacional de Hispanistas, 7 vols. (Birmingham: University of Birmingham-Dolphin Books, 1998), I, pp. 340-349; Constance. L. Wilkins, Constanza de Castilla, Book of Devotions-Libro de devociones y oficios (Exeter: University Press, 1998). 24 However, we also have some medieval exemplars among monastic chronicles, like the Vitae Sororum of the Dominican nunnery of Unterlinden, written circa 1320 by Katherine von Gueberschwirh. Jeanne Ancelet-Hustache, “Les Vitae sororum d`Unterlinden. Édition critique du manuscrit 508 de la bibliothèque de Colmar”, Archives d`histoire doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen Âge, 5 (1930), pp.

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2. Origin and use of the Liturgy of Compline and the Salve procession within the Order of Preachers The Dominican liturgy consisted of the seven canonical hours, which followed with striking fidelity the choral liturgy of monks and Canons Regular, with the exception of Compline. This last hour immediately achieved a particular structure within the Dominican rite, becoming the most solemn of the hours, due in part to the variety of antiphons, responsories and hymns available for it, but mainly due to its conclusion with the singing of Salve Regina.25 The service of Compline had two different parts. Within the Order of Preachers, the first part of it was held in the refectory during the time of fasting, and the rest of the year it started in the choir. Then the friars walked in procession to the church, as already described in the Consuetudines.26 Nevertheless, the most distinctive feature of the Compline in the Order of Preachers, i.e., the processional singing of Salve Regina, was not described in the Consuetudines. The Dominicans were neither the creators of this antiphon, nor the first to use it in a processional way. Indeed, the Salve was first included in the Cistercian antiphonary, compiled between 1134 and 1145, as a consequence

317-513. Notwithstanding these texts were discredited for a long time, some studies undertaken from the 1990s onwards have dismantled this traditional disregard. Gertrud Jaron Lewis, “By Women, for Women, about Women: The Sister-Books of Fourteenth-Century Germany”, Studies and Texts, 135 (1996). 25 The outstanding role of Compline in the Dominican liturgy was pointed out by Humbert of Romans, in his Commentary to the Saint Augustine Rule and to the first and second chapters of the Constitutions. Humbert of Romans, Opera de Vita Regulari, ed. by J. J. Berthier (Rome: Befani, 1888-1889), I, p.165. About the music of Dominicans see: Juan Carlos Asensio Palacios et alii, “La música en la Orden de Predicadores”, Dominicas VIII Centenario, ed. by Palma MartínezBurgos (Toledo: Empresa pública “Don Quijote de la Mancha 2005, S.A”, 2007), pp. 92-106, especially, p. 93-95. 26 The Liber Consuetudines has survived to the present day in the version approved in the General Chapter of Paris (1228), together with the additions of the subsequent General Chapters until 1237. A critical analysis of these additions has allowed us to know the original Consuetudines, passed between 1215 and 1216. Henry Denifle, “Die Constitutionen des Predigerordens von Jahre 1228”, Archivum für Literatur – und Kirchengeschichte des Mittelalters (Berlin: without publisher, 1885), pp. 165-227; Antoninus Hendrik Thomas, De oudste constituties van de Dominicanen: Voorgeschiedenis, tekst, bronnen, ontstaan en ontwikkeling (12151237) (Leuven: Bibliothèque de la Revue d'histoire ecclésiastique, 1965).

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of the liturgical reform fostered by St. Bernard.27 Although processional singing was not mentioned in the Cistercian antiphonary, it appeared soon afterwards and for the first time in the Statuta, written for Cluny by Peter the Venerable in 1145. The Statuta prescribed the singing of this antiphon during the procession held on Assumption day, as well as during all processions throughout the year, from the principal church to the chapel of the Virgin, located at the bottom of the garden.28 With regard to the adoption of this custom by the Dominicans, it was introduced by Jordan of Saxony, second Master-general of the Order. According to his own account, Jordan, who had just been appointed provincial of Lombardy, ordered the singing of the Salve after Compline in the monastery of Bologna, in order to save a lay-brother possessed by a demon.29 This practice quickly spread to other Dominican houses within the Province and was probably made compulsory for the whole Order shortly after Jordan became Master-general, on 22nd May 1222. However, it is worth noting that Jordan’s account did not mention the procession, only the singing.30 A detailed description of the Salve procession was first provided by the Ordinarium in 1256.31 We must bear in mind that this liturgical book was part of the Ecclesiasticum Officium, compiled and reformed by Humbert of Romans. This Master-general was also responsible for promoting some propagandist texts, written by Thomas of Cantimpré, Gerard of Frachet and Humbert of Romans himself. All of them claimed the pre-eminent position of the Order, and defended that Dominicans had superseded others in the Virgin’s affection, backing this claim with a series of 27

One of the older copies of the Cistercian antiphonary is preserved in the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, coming from the Morimondo Abbey. (BNF, Nouvelles acquisitions latines, 1412). The Salve Regina appears as antiphon ad Evangelium on the four main Marian feast days. José María Canal, Salve Regina misericordiae: Historia y leyendas en torno a esta antífona (Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 1963), pp. 37-47 and pp. 57-61. 28 Peter the Venerable, Statuta cluniacensia (c.annos 1146-1147 compilata), Statutum 76 (Ultimum), Patrologia Latina, 189 (1948), cit. in Canal, Salve Regina misericordiae: Historia y leyendas en torno a esta antífona, p. 50. 29 Blessed Jordan of Saxony, Libellus de principiis Ordinis Praedicatorum, ed. by Heribert Christian. Scheeben, Monumenta Ordinis Prædicatorum Historica. XVI (Rome: Institutum Historicum Ordinis Fratrum Praedicatorum, 1935), pp. 25-88. 30 Boniwell, A history of the Dominican Liturgy, p. 165. 31 ‘De antiphona cantanda post completorium ad recommendandum ordinem et fratres Beatae Virgini’, Ordinarium iuxta ritum Sacri Ordinis fratum praedicatorum, 1256, ed. by F. M. Guerrini (Rome: 1921), pp. 120-121.

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miraculous tales.32 Eventually, the official role of Mary as patroness and protector of the Order was completed with the reform of the Marian feast days by adding new sequences dedicated to the Blessed Virgin.33 Returning to the Salve procession, it was made compulsory for every member of the Order by the subsequent General Chapters.34 The regulations enacted by the Master-general Vincent Bandelli for the Province of Spain in 1504 insisted on this, and only the sick were excused from attending Compline.35 Although the practice of singing the Salve after Compline was not exclusive to the Dominicans, they deserve the credit for its solemnity and spread. Thus, Gregory IX, influenced by Raymond of Peñafort, ordered the singing of the Salve in all Roman churches every Friday after Compline. In 1249, the Franciscan rite adopted the custom of reciting one of the four main antiphons of the Blessed Virgin, including the Salve after Compline.36 Two years later, the custom of ending Compline by singing the Salve was introduced among Cistercians, and was also included in the Benedictine liturgy at the beginning of the 14th century.37 Eventually, Pius V established Salve Regina as final antiphon of Compline in the Roman Office, together with the other four Marian antiphons. Besides, the singing of the Salve was also spreading out of the official Church, among laymen, as shown by the reference to it in three of the miracles compiled by Gonzalo de Berceo, or the healing of a deaf-mute 32

Thomas of Cantimpré, Bonum universale de apibus quid illustrandis saeculi decimi tertii moribus conferat, ed. by Elie Berger (París: Lutetiae Parisiorum, 1895); Gerald of Frachet, Vitae Fratrum ed. by Lorenzo Galmes and Vito T. Gómez, Santo Domingo de Guzmán. Fuentes para su conocimiento (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 1987), pp. 410-411; Humbert of Romans, Opera de vita Regulari, II, p. 131. 33 Margot Fassler, “Music and the Miraculous: Mary in the Mid-ThirteenthCentury Dominican Sequence Repertory”, Aux Origines de la Liturgie Dominicaine, pp. 229-278, especially, pp. 231-238. 34 González, “La vida litúrgica en la Orden de Predicadores: Estudio de su legislación 1216-1980”, p. 246. 35 Ramón Hernández, “Actas de la Congregación de la Reforma de la Provincia de España (y II)”, Archivo Dominicano, 2 (1981), pp. 5-118, especially, pp. 11 and 91. 36 Saint Bonaventure had also advised novices to pray the Office of the Virgin followed by the psalm Miserere and the Salve Regina in the double-feasts. Saint Bonaventure, “Regula Novitiorum”, Opera omnia (Quaracchi: Collegium S. Bonaventurae, 1882-1902) VIII, p. 476 cap. 1 (doc. nº 3), cited in Canal, Salve Regina misericordiae: Historia y leyendas en torno a esta antífona, p. 91. 37 Boniwell, A History of the Dominican Liturgy, pp. 154-155; Canal, Salve Regina misericordiae: Historia y leyendas en torno a esta antífona, p. 117.

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woman in Puy, sung in the Cantiga 262 of the Códice Rico from the Escorial library.38 With regard to the procession, according to the Dominican rite it was held every day, except Holy Wednesday, Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, and it is accurately described in the Ordinary of Humbert of Romans, and subsequently, in the Dominican Ceremonial. Two acolytes carrying candlesticks would place themselves in front of the altar and the entire community knelt down at the opening note and remained so until the word Salve had been uttered. Then, the friars rose and followed the two acolytes in procession to the ecclesia laicorum, bowing their heads as they passed the large crucifix between the choir and the outer church, whilst being sprinkled with holy water. However, according to the Ordinary, when the ecclesia laicorum was not available for processions or even when there was only a small number of friars, they were advised to remain in the chorus.39 The custom of kneeling at the words Eia ergo advocata nostra was introduced later, due to a vision of Jordan of Saxony.40 Besides, from the 14th century onwards, it became a custom to sing the antiphon O lumen Ecclesiae, from the celebration of Saint Dominic, as the friars returned to the chorus. However, in certain provinces and monasteries of the Order, the O lumen could be replaced by another antiphon. In Castile, the Chapter 38

They were the miracles number IX, XXI and XXIV, Gonzalo de Berceo, Milagros de Nuestra Señora, ed. by Fernando Bañoso (Barcelona: Francisco Rico and Editorial crítica, 1997), pp. 76. 130 and 189; Alfonso X, Cantigas de Santa María, ed. facsimile of the codex T. 1.1 (Códice Rico) of the Escorial Library (Madrid: Edilán,1979) II, p. 13, cited in Cristina Álvarez, “Espiritualidad y monacato femenino en las Cantigas de Santa María”, La clausura femenina en España. Actas del Simposium (I), coord. by F. Javier Campos and Fernández de Sevilla (San Lorenzo de El Escorial: Instituto Escurialense de Investigaciones Históricas y Artísticas, 2004), pp. 141-166, especially p.152. 39 Ordinarium iuxta ritum Sacri Ordinis fratum praedicatorum, pp. 120-121 (doc. nº 481). See also: “De Officio Ecclesiae” in Humbert of Romans, Opera De vita regulari, II, pp. 131-138. The development of this procession has been frequently depicted. Besides the well-known painting of Pedro Berruguete preserved in the Museo del Prado, we mention another panel coming from the Dominican convent of Utrecht, and a miniature of the psalter and book of Hours of Alfonso the Magnanimous, illustrated by Lleonard Crespi and completed in 1443. The Dutch panel is preserved in the Catharijneconvent Museum, Utrecht (ABM s00071). The psalter is preserved in the National Library BL, Ms. Add. 28962, f. 263v. Francesca Español, “El salterio y libro de horas de Alfonso el Magnánimo y el cardenal Joan de Casanova”, Locvs Amoenvs, 6 (2002-2003), pp. 91-114, especially, pp. 98 and 112. 40 Boniwell, A history of the Dominican Liturgy, pp. 161-162; Blessed Jordan of Saxony, Libellus de principiis Ordinis Praedicatorum, pp. 122-123.

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of Salamanca (1489) settled upon a variety of antiphons to be sung depending on the day of the week.41

3. The Salve Procession in the Dominican nunneries All the liturgical texts mentioned above were addressed to friars. Nuns’ books were supposed to reproduce those of the friars faithfully. Indeed, nuns had no official liturgical books written specifically for them until the 19th century. According to one of these books, the Ceremonial of Ambrosio Maria Potton, nuns were not allowed to enter the ecclesia laicorum so, as a result, Compline processions had to take place in the chorus.42 The singing of the Salve in the Royal nunnery of Santo Domingo de Madrid would take place in front of the altar of the Virgin of Mercy, one of the oldest images of the monastery, which was placed in the chorus, near the communion rail. We must bear the close connection between the singing of the Salve and the holding of this particular Marian devotion in mind. Both were linked to the promotion of the Order through the support of the Blessed Virgin. The nuns in Madrid knelt down before this Mater Misericordiae as they sang the central verse Eia, ergo, advocata nostra.43 In the same way, the Dominican nuns of Santa María in Medina del Campo used to sing the Salve in front of the altar of the Virgen de los Huertos, located on the Vangel side of the chorus, carrying candlesticks.44

41 On Tuesdays the antiphon must be devoted to Saint Peter of Verone, on Wednesdays to Saint Thomas Aquinas, on Thursdays to Saint Vicent Ferrer and the rest of the week to Saint Dominic, except on Sundays, when the O lumen was sung. Ramón Hernández, “Actas de la congregación de la Reforma (I)”, p. 50. 42 Ambrosio María Potton, Ceremonial para uso de las religiosas dominicas, Traducido al castellano y acomodado a las costumbres de España por el Reverendo Padre Fray Perfecto Canteli, O.P. (Vergara: El Santísimo Rosario, 1900), p. 245. 43 Jerónimo de Quintana, A la muy antigua, noble y coronada villa de Madrid: historia de su antigüedad, nobleza y grandeza (Madrid, 1629; reprinted Valladolid: Maxtor, 2005), III, f. 397r y 397v; Daniel Russo, “Les représentations mariales dans l`art d`Occident. Essai sur la formation d`une tradition iconographique”, Marie. Le culte de la Vierge dans la société médiévale (Paris: Beauchesne, 1996), pp.174-291, especially, p. 269. 44 Manuel Medrano, Historia de la Provincia de España de la Orden de Predicadores (Madrid: Imprenta de Alfonso de Mora, 1734), Tercera parte, Tomo I, f.70.

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Figure 4: Santo Domingo el Real de Madrid with the altars involved in the processions after Compline (author’s reconstruction over the floor plan in the Museo Municipal de Madrid. IN. 2695).

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However, both architectural and documentary evidence proves that processions following Compline were frequently performed neither in the chorus nor in the ecclesia laicorum, but in other contexts, sometimes following the holding of other liturgical processions. One clear piece of evidence for this is provided by the aforementioned nunnery of Santo Domingo in Toledo, in particular, by the south range of the Claustro del Moral. A comprehensive rebuilding of this cloister started in 1507, but the works were interrupted in 1508, when only the south range and first sections of both the east and west ranges had been completed.45 The south range was a forty-metre long building, with three open storeys, without partition walls. We know that at least the second storey was probably used as a common dormitory, whereas the lower floor could have been used as a dormitory or, alternatively, as a refectory. According to monastic tradition, the upper storey was used for penitence and to pray the Miserere each Friday during Lent, before a Pietà or a Crucifixion.46 Particular features of this range (some of them currently existing and others known thanks to the information provided by the sources) clearly support its use as a setting for the processions after Compline. The first of these is the inscription on the frieze located under the alfarje roof. Nowadays, it is in a very bad condition and is almost completely illegible, but it was much better preserved in the 19th century, as we can see in photographs in the Archivo Rodríguez. We can clearly deduce that, at that time, the inscription also covered the inner side of a series of arches. Notwithstanding its mutilation, the surviving fragments allow us to distinguish the text of the O lumen, sung after the Salve as the procession returned to the choir: LUMEN ECCLESIAE, DOCTOR VERITATIS, ROSA PATIENTIAE, EBUR CASTITATIS, AQUAM SAPIENTAIE PROPINASTI GRATIS: PRAEDICATOR GRATIAE, NOS JUNGE BEATIS.

Secondly, and according to convent tradition, there was also an altar dedicated to Saint Dominic in this range, to which another procession performed after Compline would probably be addressed, as we shall see below.47 45

ASDRT, doc. 360, Cuenta de los maravedís que se gastaron en las casas de los confesores. Año 1507-1508, and doc. 361, Noticias de las obras en la crujía nueva del Patio del Moral, 1508. También noticias de la casa de los confesores. 46 Antonio Sierra, “Santo Domingo el Real de Toledo. Noticias sobre su fundación y suerte”, Revista española de arte, 4/7 (1935), pp. 304-308, especially, p. 307. 47 According to this legend, two nuns were speaking in this gallery when Saint Dominic came out of a nearby altar and clapped his hands loudly to make them

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Figure 5: Santo Domingo el Real in Toledo at the beginning of the 16th century (author’s reconstruction over the floor plan in the Instituto Geográfico y Estadístico, 1881).

silent. Sierra, “Santo Domingo el Real de Toledo. Noticias sobre su fundación y suerte”, p. 307.

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Finally, also thanks to some old photographs, we know of the existence of a painting featuring Saint Thomas Aquinas praying in front of a Crucifix, following a legend contained, among other sources, in the Codex Matritensis. This depiction was likely located in another altar.48

Fig. 6: Santo Domingo el Real in Toledo. South range of the cloister of the Moral (Photo: AHPT, Fondo Rodríguez F-020-01).

In addition to these two altars, another altar devoted to the Blessed 48

María Jesús Galán, “Cristo de las aguas, Cristo de Antequera y Cristo Redentor, en Santo Domingo el Real de Toledo”, Los crucificados, religiosidad, cofradías y arte: Actas del Simposium 3/6-IX-2010, ed. by F. Javier Campos and Fernández de Sevilla (San Lorenzo de El Escorial, 2010), pp. 755-770, especially, p.756.

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Virgin must also have been located there, as the procession singing the Salve concluded at it, following the regulations of the aforementioned Chapter of Salamanca (1489). Besides, a Marian altar was also the focus of another procession performed each Saturday, as described in greater detail below.49 Apart from these altars, the plausible location of the refectory on the ground floor of this range can also be linked to the liturgy of Compline, the first part of which took place in the refectory during the time of fasting until the General Chapter of Salamanca (1551).50 Taking into account all the above evidence, it seems clear that processions after Compline took place in the south range of the major cloister of this nunnery, with the aforementioned liturgical stations or altars. Likewise, it is very likely that the monastery owned its own processional or ceremonial containing the norms of these processions, together with the antiphons and responsories, all of which, unfortunately, have been lost.

4. Other processions after Compline in the Order of Preachers Besides the procession of the Salve, there were other processions related to Compline. Among them, the one held every Saturday to a Marian altar was truly remarkable. It was performed by singing a Marian litany belonging to the Order of Preachers, which was interpolated between the Salve and the O lumen, and ended with the singing of the Inviolata.51 49

Ramón Hernández, “Actas de la congregación de la Reforma de la Provincia de España(I)”, Archivo Dominicano, 1 (1980), pp. 7-140, especially p.50. 50 In the context of simplification of the Office, carried out by this General Chapter, the first part of Compline was ruled to be celebrated also in the church, even during the time of fasting. González, “La vida litúrgica en la Orden de Predicadores: Estudio de su legislación 1216-1980”, p. 246. 51 Alexandre Vicent Jandel, Caeremoniale iuxta ritum sancti ordinis praedicatorum (Malinas: H. Dessain typographer, 1869), p. 523. The Dominican procesional of 1609, compiled by fr. Dámaso Artufel has an attached booklet, written by fr. Toribio Vélez de las Cuebas that contains the Letanía de Nuestra Señora, que se canta los Sábados después de la Salve en San Pedro de Roma, y en la Minerva, y en casi todos los conventos de nuestra Orden de Italia, por un Breve del beatíssimo padre Gregorio XIII. Its invocations are different from those of the Litany of Loreto. Antolín González, “El procesionario O.P. del año 1609”, Archivo Dominicano, 24 (2003), pp. 21-32, especially, p. 22.

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On the feast of the Immaculate Conception, the nuns of Santo Domingo in Madrid would perform a procession carrying an image of the Blessed Virgin through the different rooms, including the cells and the novitiate.52 According to the nuns’ description, this procession took place after Compline and was no different from the aforementioned procession held each Saturday after this hour. Furthermore, bearing in mind the particularities of the celebration of Compline in each region, or even in each monastery, the existence of a characteristic litany of this nunnery should not be dismissed. This might have been the one contained in the Libro de Devociones of Constance of Castile, after the Joys and the Sorrows of the Virgin.53 Given the official maculist position of the Order of Preachers, the celebration of the Immaculate feast could seem an oddity. However, we must take into consideration that the influence of both the social and religious contexts, and that particular patrons used to be more powerful than the influence from the friars.54 The procession held in the Royal nunnery of Madrid probably followed the one performed in the town on the day of the Conception. This procession dated back at least to 1348 and it was held to thank the Blessed Virgin for eradicating the plague.55 Furthermore, after the definitive development of the devotion to the Holy Rosary and its spread throughout Europe at the end of the 15th century, the procession to the altar of the Blessed Virgin after Compline 52

Letizia Arbeteta, Vida y arte en las clausuras madrileñas. El ciclo de la Navidad (Madrid: Museo Municipal de Madrid, 1996), p. 38. Similar processions were held in other nunneries of Madrid, always bearing an image of Immaculate Conception, some of them made by Luisa Roldán, Gregorio Fernández, Martínez Montañés or Pedro de Mena, among others. Leticia Sánchez, Patronato regio y órdenes religiosas femeninas en el Madrid de los Austrias: Descalzas Reales, Encarnación y Santa Isabel (Madrid: Universidad complutense de Madrid, 1994). 53 Wilkins, Constanza de Castilla, Book of Devotions-Libro de devociones y oficios, pp. 81-89. 54 The dispute of the Immaculate Conception within the Order of Preachers was a consequence of the obligation, enacted by the General Chapter of 1279, to hold and teach the Aquinas doctrine, who adopted a maculist position. Instead of the feast of the Immaculate Conception, the General Chapter of 1388 adopted the feast of Sanctification. Nevertheless, from the beginning of the 14th century onwards, some liturgical books of the Order included the feast of Mary’s Conception. A History of the Dominican Liturgy, pp. 230-231 and 256-268. 55 Ángela Muñoz, “Fiestas laicas y fiestas profanas en el Madrid medieval. Un primer acercamiento al tema”, El Madrid medieval: sus tierras y sus hombres (Madrid: Asociación Cultural Al-Mudayna, 1990), pp. 151-175, especially pp. 160-162.

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sometimes merged with this new Marian devotion.56 The chronicle of Santo Domingo in Lekeitio describes a procession held in this nunnery every Sunday or every feast after Compline, praying to the Holy Rosary. It started in the chorus, located in front of the chapel of Our Lady of the Holy Rosary, and proceeded through the different monastic rooms, ending in a big ward facing the town’s graveyard. Después de completas o bien después de rezar en el coro Vísperas, Completas y Rosario, salía toda la Comunidad en procesión por todo el convento rezando el Rosario, del modo siguiente. Se empezaban en el coro, la sacristana salía la primera rociando todos los rincones con agua bendita, del coro se dirigía la procesión al dormitorio viejo del piso de arriba, y cuando se llegaba al último extremo, o sea junto al ropero viejo, se suspendía el rezo del Rosario y se rezaba un responso con la oración “Quaesumus domine”. Se rezaba en este lugar este responso porque más arriba en un rincón se guardaban las andas en que se llevaban a enterrar a las religiosas difuntas57. Continuaba el rezo del Rosario bajando por la otra escalera al piso segundo y se dirigía la procesión al refectorio, dándose una vuelta por él y después se bajaba al claustro (donde está la leña). Después e dirigía la procesión al comulgatorio viejo y colocadas en él volvía a suspender el rezo del Rosario y se rezaba el Salmo “De Profundis” con dos o tres oraciones por las religiosas difuntas que allí estaban sepultadas. Después volvía a tomar su marcha la procesión rezando y echando agua bendita por unos caminitos estrechos y tortuosos que había en la planta baja, teniendo que caminar unas detrás de otras por no tener sitio para ir de dos en dos hasta llegar a un salón viejo que tenía un corredor o balcón grande que miraba hacia el cementerio de la villa, allí nos arrodillábamos todas hasta concluir el rezo del Rosario y se ponía fin con un responso para sacerdote según la oración y después otro Salmo “De Profundis” con las oraciones correspondientes para muchos [...].58

56 Luis G. Alonso, Origen del Rosario y Leyendas castellanas del siglo XIII sobre Sto. Domingo de Guzmán (Vergara: 1925); Fermín Labarga, “La devoción del Rosario: datos para su historia”, Archivo Dominicano, 24 (2003), pp. 225-277, especially, pp. 228-229. 57 This prayer is part of the Office of the Dead of the Order of Preachers, as such it is compiled in Jandel’s ceremonial. Jandel, Caeremoniale iuxta ritum sancti ordinis praedicatorum, p. 607. 58 “After compline or after reciting in the choir Vespers, Compline and Rosary, all the Community came out of the convent in procession reciting the Rosary, in the following way. Beginning in the choir, the sacristan came out first sprinkling all the corners with holy water, from the choir the procession went to the old dormitory on the top floor, and when they reached the far end, in other words next

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Albeit dating from the early 20th century, it is entirely plausible that this procession had been held in the monastery long before the chronicle, as we can gather from other examples. Moreover, as we have just seen, the procession combined different elements from the processional liturgy of the Dead, the liturgy of Compline and the devotion to Our Lady of the Holy Rosary. Regarding the prayers and psalms of the Office of the Dead interpolated during the procession, we must bear in mind that the Salve was also sung on the death of a friar, which took place in the infirmary and thus, let him expire in the hands of the Mater Misericordiae.59 In addition to Lekeitio, the nuns of San Juan Bautista de Quejana would also pray to the Holy Rosary after Compline every Friday during Lent. They would walk in procession to a western gallery-choir, not located in the monastic church, but in the chapel of the Virgen del Cabello, where they would also sing Miserere before the Holy Rosary.60

to the old cloakroom, the recital of the Rosary was suspended and a response was given to the prayer Quaesumus domine. This response was prayed in this place because higher up in a corner the litters that the dead nuns were taken to burial on were stored. The recital of the el Rosario continued coming down the other stairs to the second floor and the procession going to the refectory, going once round it and then going down to the cloister (where the firewood is). After and leading the procession went to the old altar rail and at it, they again suspended the recital of the Rosary and recited the Psalm De Profundis with two or three prayers for the dead nuns buried there. Then the procession started again praying and sprinkling holy water along narrow twisting paths that there were on the ground floor, having to walk ones behind the other there not being room to go two by two until reaching an old room that had a corridor or large balcony that looked out on the town cemetery, there we all knelt down until the recital of the Rosary was concluded and an end was put with a response for priests according to the prayer and after another Psalm De Profundis with the corresponding prayers for many”. (AMSDL, Crónica de Santo Domingo de Lequeitio, elaborada por Sor Tomasa Gregoria de Santa Inés y Pozo García, 1912, libro II, pp. 49-50). 59 This custom was introduced to the Order after the martyrdom of the Blessed Sadoc and his companions of Sandomir, in 1260 in Poland, who died singing the Salve, according to the tradition. Pietro Lippini, La vita quotidiana di un convento medievale, p. 305. 60 Faustino Martínez, Reseña histórica y Catálogo documental del Monasterio de Quejana (1374-1974) (Vitoria: Obra cultural de la Caja de Ahorros de la ciudad de Vitoria, 1975), p. 17.

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Figure 7: Santo Domingo de Lekeitio (author’s reconstruction from the floor plan of Jesús Muñoz-Baroja and José Garritxo).

Another outstanding procession performed after Compline was the one on the fourth Sunday of each month to an altar devoted to Saint Dominic. It was also held between the Salve and the O lumen and was accompanied

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Figure 8: Santo Domingo de Caleruega at the end of the 15th century (author’s reconstruction over the floor plan by Luis and José Menéndez Pidal).

by the singing of the protracted responsory O spem miram, belonging to the Matins of Saint Dominic’s feast.61 61 Jandel, Caeremoniale iuxta ritum sancti ordinis praedicatorum, p. 523. The aforementioned ceremonial for the use of Dominican nuns established that “La

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After the aforementioned singing of the Salve before the altar of the Virgin of Mercy, the nuns of Santo Domingo in Madrid would walk in procession to the chapel of Saint Dominic, where they sang O spem miram. However, it is not clear if this procession took place only on the fourth Sunday of each month, as related in the Dominican ceremonial, or also on other days, which would represent a particular custom of this monastery. Afterwards, they returned to the chorus, singing the O lumen.62 This chapel was located in a tiny cloister, adjacent to the southern wall of the ante-choir, which was in turn attached to the Epistle side of the chorus.63 According to Baltasar Quintana’s account, the nuns of Santo Domingo de Caleruega would also perform this procession every fourth Sunday of the month from at least the end of the 17th century onwards, though it is likely to have existed long before. The nuns climbed the tower attached to the monastic church of Santa María, from which they were able to see the little church of Saint Dominic built by Blessed Manés to the east, and, facing this church, they sang O spem miram.64 In this case, strictly speaking, the procession was not to an altar devoted to Saint Dominic, but to a place overlooking Saint Dominic’s altar, or, to be precise, the church devoted to Saint Dominic. However, assuming that Quintana’s account is post-Tridentine, and considering the consequences of the Council decrees on the enclosure of Catholic nuns, we must consider the possibility that this procession was not to the procesión de Nuestro Padre Santo Domingo se hace, concluidas las Completas, el cuarto Domingo”, Potton, Ceremonial para uso de las religiosas dominicas, Traducido al castellano y acomodado a las costumbres de España por el Reverendo Padre Fray Perfecto Canteli, p. 439. 62 Corona de Jesús Vidal, Breve reseña histórica del convento de Santo Domingo el Real de Madrid, desde su fundación por el mismo Santo Patriarca, año del Señor de 1218 (Santiago de Compostela: Librería del Seminario Conciliar, 1946), pp. 6164. 63 AGOP, Serie XIV, Liber Q, parte seconda, f. 1007. 64 Adolfo Robles, “El P. Baltasar de Quintana y su información sobre Caleruega”, Santo Domingo de Caleruega. Contexto Cultural III Jornadas de Estudios Medievales, coord. by Cándido Aniz Iriarte and Luis. V. Díaz Martín (Salamanca: Editorial San Esteban, 1995), pp. 361-380. This tiny church and the one devoted to Santa María remained detached until the end of the 16th century. The aforementioned tower remained attached to the monastic church until the 18th century. Carmen González, Real Monasterio de Santo Domingo de Caleruega. Fundación de Alfonso X El Sabio (Salamanca: Editorial San Esteban, 1993), p. 182.

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aforementioned tower, but outside the monastery walls, to the church of Saint Dominic.65

Figure 9: Santo Domingo de Caleruega at the end of the 17th century (author’s reconstruction over the floor plan by Luis and José Menéndez Pidal).

5. Penitential practices related to the liturgy of Compline and ultra-rigorist movements within the Dominican nunneries As Humbert of Romans’ account proves, on feast days after Compline, the friars would recite the psalm Miserere or De Profundis while the hebdomadary gave them the discipline with wooden switches on their naked shoulders.66 This custom had been settled in memory of Saint Dominic, who, according to the third of the Nine Ways of Prayer, gave 65 From the Early Middle Ages onwards, there is documentary evidence of processions to chapels and other churches located outside the nunneries. Gisela Muschiol, “Time and Space. Liturgy and Rite in Female Monasteries of the Middle Ages” Crown and veil. Female monasticism from the Fifth to the Fifteenth centuries, ed. by Jeffrey. F. Hamburger and Susan Marti (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008), pp. 191-206, especially, p. 198. 66 Humbert of Romans, Opera de vita Regulari, II, p. 131.

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himself the discipline with an iron chain before a Crucifix.67 As has been previously reported, the upper storey of the south range of the main cloister of Santo Domingo in Toledo had a large room where nuns would perform penance, praying the Miserere on Good Friday before a Pietà or a Crucifixion.68 Nevertheless, as stated above, the Miserere was not exclusively used on the Paschal liturgy but also frequently linked to any penitential context, including Compline.69 Notwithstanding the Dominican Observants’ conception of religious life as a path of constant penance, ultra-rigorist movements emerged within the Order during the reform, and went even further after it. In fact, most of them considered extreme penitential practices and mortifications of the flesh an essential element of religious life.70 Among these movements, the one organised around the Beata de Piedrahita occupied a prominent place. Sister Mary of Santo Domingo was marked by her austerity, prophecies and visions, sleep deprivation, her devotion to the Passion of Christ relating to extreme penitential practices, and also for a longer and more solemn singing, which did not comply with the Dominican custom.71 She took her vows as Dominican tertiary at the beaterio of Santa Catalina in Piedrahita and then moved to Santa Catalina in Ávila. From this last beaterio, she was subsequently transferred to a residence attached to Santo Tomás in Ávila, due to the conflicts that arose within Santa Catalina as a consequence of her strict code of monastic

67 Simon Tugwell, “The Nine ways of Prayer of Saint Dominic, A Textual and Critical Edition”, Mediaeval Studies, 47 (1958), pp. 94-103. 68 Nowadays, both of these images are preserved within the monastic choir. The Gothic Crucifix, called Cristo de las Aguas, dates from the mid-14th century, whereas the Pietà was made at the beginning of the 15th century. Dominicas VIII Centenario, pp. 208, 210 and 218. 69 Joaquín Yarza, Los Reyes Católicos: paisaje artístico de una monarquía (Madrid: Nerea 1993), pp. 151-152. 70 Guillermo Nieva, “Incorporarse a Jesucristo: prácticas sacramentales y penitenciales entre los dominicos castellanos en el siglo XVI”, Hispania Sacra, 58117 (2006), pp. 39-67, especially, p. 52. 71 Vicente Beltrán, “Las corrientes de espiritualidad entre los dominicos de Castilla durante la primera mitad del siglo XVI”, Miscelánea Beltrán de Heredia (Salamanca: OPE, 1971-1973), III, pp. 519-672, especially, p. 529. The raptures of the Beata of Piedrahita were compiled by her confessor, fr. Diego de Victoria, and published circa 1518 under the title Libro de Oración, which, nevertheless, had gone unnoticed for centuries until recent times. Mary. E. Giles, The Book of Prayer of Sor María of Santo Domingo. A Study and Translation (Albany: Albany State University of New York Press, 1990).

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discipline.72 Her commitment to the reform was the reason why the Provincial, Diego Magdaleno, commissioned her to go to Toledo in order to promover la observancia entre los religiosos y religiosas de la Orden.73 However, in spite of the support of Cisneros and the Catholic Monarchs, the Provincial Chapter of Zamora (1508) enacted some regulations against the innovations promoted by her group. Furthermore, that same year, the Master-general forbade the friars from allowing Sister Mary of Santo Domingo to introduce reforms in their convents.74 Some features of the main cloister of the Royal nunnery of Santo Domingo de Toledo seem to be related to the movement of the Beata. These are the aforementioned room for penitential practices on the top floor; the complexity of processions described above; the plausible location of the refectory on the lower floor; and the decoration of both windows and doors of this floor with the Arma Christi and the Five Holy Wounds. These depictions should be also linked to the extreme penitential practices fostered by reformers, and, in particular, by the Beata.75 Regarding the location of the refectory, the same arrangement was adopted in the Dominican nunnery of San Domenico di Pisa, which also embraced a strict interpretation of the cloister and was arguably the Mother House of the Dominican Observant movement in Italy. It is worth noting that the east wing of this monastic building also held the refectory at ground level with a dormitory above. Even though the building of a common dormitory fits with the legislation of the Reformed Congregation, it could be also linked to a more strict observance. Indeed, in 1494, San Domenico joined the new Congregation of San Marco, which had been created one year before by the charismatic Girolamo Savonarola.76 72

Jodi Bilinkoff, “A Spanish Prophetess and Her Patrons: The Case of María de Santo Domingo”, Sixteenth Century Journal, 23 (1992), pp. 21-34, especially, pp. 22-23, cited by Elizabeth A. Lehfeldt, Religious women in golden age Spain: the permeable cloister (Cornwall: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2005), p. 165. 73 Cándido Aniz, Las Lauras. Reforma y Recolección Dominicana (s.XVII) (Salamanca: San Esteban, 1998), p. 37 74 Vicente Beltrán de Heredia, Historia de la Reforma, pp. 251-253. 75 I have dealt with the decoration of this cloister, related to penitential practices, in another article. Mercedes Pérez, “Devociones, prácticas espirituales y liturgia en torno a la imagen de Cristo Crucificado en los monasterios de Dominicas en la Edad Media”, Los Crucificados, religiosidad, cofradías y arte: Actas del Simposium 3/6 – IX-2010, ed. by F. Javier Campos and Fernández de Sevilla (San Lorenzo de El Escorial: Instituto de Estudios Escurialenses, 2010), pp. 195-212, especially, pp. 201-205. 76 Roberts, Dominican Women and Renaissance Art, The Convent of San Domenico

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Figure 10: Arma Christi in the south range of the cloister of Santo Domingo el Real in Toledo.

The upper storey of the west range of the cloister of Santo Domingo in Caleruega was also occupied by a common dormitory.77 Although its precise date of construction remains unknown, the likelihood of the influence of another ultra-rigorist movement should not be dismissed. This of Pisa, pp. 15, 81 and 203. 77 Robles, “El P. Baltasar de Quintana y su información sobre Caleruega”, p. 368.

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was the one fostered by Juan Hurtado de Mendoza, who was eager for a more strict interpretation of the Dominican life. Contrary to the Beata and Savonarola, he did not attempt to become independent, and obtained the Master General’s approval to found several convents in Talavera de la Reina, Atocha and Ocaña. Between 1540 and 1542, Hurtado and his friars settled in Aranda de Duero, founding a convent devoted to Sancti Spiritus. From then onwards, this monastery probably provided the friars with the residence attached to Caleruega.78 Going back to Toledo, in addition to the architectonic and liturgical evidence, the aforementioned documentary sources also support the hypothesis of its construction as a consequence of the Beata’s reform. As we have seen, the construction of the west range of the cloister started in 1507, strikingly twelve years after the supposed reform of this nunnery. Interestingly though, both the beginning and the interruption of building work fit fully with Sister Mary’s move from Santo Domingo to Toledo, and with the veto of any reform introduced by her, established by the Master General in 1508.

Conclusions Whereas the form of the processional liturgy of Compline within Dominican friaries is well known, its use in Dominican nunneries has hitherto barely attracted the attention of either liturgists or historians. Furthermore, the whole liturgy of the Dominican nuns has remained an under-researched branch, due to the apparent legislative gap regarding this subject and the disappearance and scattering of many liturgical books that pre-dated the Order’s reform. However, evidence like the aforementioned nunneries in Madrid, Toledo, Caleruega and Lekeitio has highlighted that in many Dominican nunneries, the Compline processions were not carried out in the church or the choir. Instead of these places, they were held within the cloister, with its chapels used as liturgical stations, or through other convent buildings and, on some occasions, they even took place outside the cloister walls. The holding of Compline processions within the cloister, or cloisters, was also documented in nunneries from different monastic orders, especially among Cistercians. Such was the case of the Cistercian royal nunnery of Santa María de las Huelgas. Indeed, plasterwork remains in the 78

González, Real Monasterio de Santo Domingo de Caleruega. Fundación de Alfonso X El Sabio, p. 185. For the movement fostered by fr. Juan Hurtado de Mendoza, see: Nieva, “Incorporarse a Jesucristo: prácticas sacramentales y penitenciales entre los dominicos castellanos en el siglo XVI”, p. 55.

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passage between the cloister of San Fernando and the Claustrillas which has an inscription with an extract of the Salve, which was obviously related to the processional liturgy after Compline.79 Thus, it is entirely plausible that the Dominican nuns also followed the Cistercians in this regard. As we have seen, the study of architecture together with non-liturgical documentary sources can open new areas of research into the Dominican nuns’ liturgy. Moreover, further research into monastic archives will probably reveal more liturgical works that have so far remained hidden. These would likely shed light on the nuns’ liturgical practices, which, as has become patently obvious, had specific characteristics in each nunnery. The celebration of Compline in the royal monastery of Santo Domingo in Toledo was paradigmatic of this liturgical complexity. Processions took place in the south range of its main cloister, where a group of altars served as liturgical points. According to its architectonic features and constructive chronology, we can most likely relate this building to the influence of the Beata de Piedrahita. Nevertheless, this cloister remained in use only until the 1580s, when a new processional cloister was built to the north of the monastic church.

79

According to Carrero, both Santiago’s chapel, located in front of the aforementioned passage, and the nearby Assumption’s chapel must have played and outstanding role within the monastic processional liturgy. Eduardo Carrero, “Observaciones sobre la topografía sacra y cementerial de Santa María la Real de las Huelgas, en Burgos, y su materialización arquitectónica”, La clausura femenina en España: actas del simposium 14-IX-2004, coord., by Francisco J. Campos y Fernández de Sevilla (San Lorenzo de El Escorial: Instituto de Estudios Escurialenses: 2004), II, pp. 695-716, especially, p. 713.

DEVOTION AND EVANGELISATION IN TWO FRESCO CYCLES IN THE FRANCISCAN CONVENT OF LA VERNA AT THE TURN TH OF THE 15 CENTURY NICOLETTA BALDINI UNIVERSITÀ LUIGI BOCCONI

The sanctuary of La Verna in the province of Arezzo is located in the uplands of the Arno valley where the mountains form a natural amphitheatre called Casentino. Mount Verna (from which the sanctuary takes its name) is an enormous bastion of grey calcareous rock, which drops sheer to one side with thick fir and beech forests, while the other face has a vast panorama over Tuscany, Romagna, Umbria, Marche, and Abruzzo.1 St. Francis of Assisi, to whom Messer Orlando of Chiusi della Verna2 gave the mount, spent periods in spiritual retreat with some of his brothers3 in this inaccessible place. Indeed, according to historical sources, it was here that he received his stigmata from God in September 1224.4 After an early settlement of rudimentary shelters – no more than huts formed from tree branches – where the first followers of St. Francis stayed, stone buildings later developed. The architectural structures shaped the life of the community, as new rooms were assigned uses. Of central importance, the friars built spaces for prayer, namely, two churches: the 1 Marino Berbardo Barfucci, Il Monte della Verna. Sintesi di un millennio di vita (Sacro Monte della Verna-Arezzo: Edizioni La Verna, 1982), pp. 29-38. 2 Barfucci, Il Monte della Verna. Sintesi di un millennio di vita, pp. 15-28; Pierluigi Licciardello, “I signori di Chiusi della Verna dalle origini al Duecento”,‘Altro monte non ha più santo il mondo’. Storia, architettura ed arte alla Verna dalle origini al primo Quattrocento, ed. by Nicoletta Baldini (forthcoming). 3 Summarised in Barfucci, Il Monte della Verna. Sintesi di un millennio di vita, pp. 39-60. 4 Summarised in Barfucci, Il Monte della Verna. Sintesi di un millennio di vita, pp. 39-60.

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Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli and the Basilica dell’Assunta. Chapels were also built, the best known being the Cappella delle Stimmate, built over the site where St. Francis is reputed to have received the wounds of Christ’s Passion on his body.5

Figure 1: La Verna Monastery (Arezzo).

From an architectural perspective, even after several restorations and enlargements, the structure has largely survived unaltered.6 The pictorial decoration, though, has undergone much greater changes. In the 14th century, works by Giotto were completed for the Cappella della Croce7, while Taddeo Gaddi painted the Cappella delle Stimmate. By the 19th century only traces remained.8 The vicissitudes of time have not been kind 5

Barfucci, Il Monte della Verna. Sintesi di un millennio di vita. Barfucci, Il Monte della Verna. Sintesi di un millennio di vita. 7 Mariano da Firenze, Dialogo del sacro monte della Verna, ed. by Ciro Cannarozzi (Pistoia: Officina Tip. A. Pacinotti e C., 1930), pp. 71-72; Agostino Milio, Nuovo dialogo delle devozioni del Sacro Monte della Verna (Florence: Nella Stamperia Ducale, 1568), pp. 56 and 266. 8 Giorgio Vasari, Le Vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori ed architettori, 3 vols (Florence: Appresso i Giunti, 1568), in Le Opere di Giorgio Vasari, 9 vols., ed. by Gaetano Milanesi (Florence: G.C. Sansoni, 1878-1906), I, p. 580; Davide Baldassarri, “Una pagina storico-critica-estetica intorno alla chiesa delle SS. 6

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Figure 2: Cappella delle Stimmate, La Verna Monastery (Arezzo).

to the pictorial decoration of La Verna. This is in part due to the very harsh climate of such a mountainous location, combined with the humidity of the forest, which together forced the friars from the 15th century to lean towards another kind of decoration: glazed earthenware, of the type and quality done by the hands of Della Robbia family, Andrea and his sons in particular.9 La Verna hosts the most numerous collection of works by the Stimate sul monte Alvernia”, Studi francescani, 10/21 (1926), pp. 467-483 (nn. 34). 9 Le robbiane della Verna ed. by Fabio Bernacchi (Sacro Monte della VernaArezzo: Edizioni La Verna, 1986); Piero Bargellini and Pacifico Brun, Le robbiane

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Della Robbia family, highly acclaimed in Florence and Tuscany from the mid-15th to the early 16th centuries.

Figure 3: Andrea della Robbia, L’Annunciazione, Basilica dell’Assunta, La Verna Monastery (Arezzo).

As the poor climate vastly undermined efforts to conserve frescoes and panel paintings, only two important pictorial cycles survive to this day. The two cycles date from final years of the 15th century and the first decade of the 16th century. The first was painted in 1499 by Domenico Pecori as a decoration for a small chapel located within the forest itself; the second, a fresco which adorns the friars’ dormitory, was done by Gerino da Pistoia in two distinct periods, 1500 and 1509, and at both times with a different collaborator. The earlier of the two cycles is for the chapel of the blessed Giovanni da Fermo, known as Beato Giovanni della Verna, a name taken in honour of his long stay at the holy mount. Giovanni was born in Fermo, a city in the Marche, to a well-to-do family around 1259.10 Since childhood, he manifested “una speciale devozione al crocifisso”,11 and gave penance della Verna (Milan: Kina Italia, 1996); Alfio Scarini, I Della Robbia in Casentino. Itinerario robbiano (Cortona: Grafiche Calosci, 2005), pp. 10-27; and above all: Giancarlo Gentilini, I Della Robbia. La scultura invetriata nel Rinascimento, 2 vols (Florence: Cantini editore [1992]); Giancarlo Gentilini, “Scultura di luce. Le robbiane della Verna”, FMR, 103 (1994), pp. 86-104. 10 Summarised in: Nicoletta Baldini, Testimonianze pittoriche del culto del Beato Giovanni alla Verna fra XV e XVI secolo. Gli affreschi di Domenico Pecori, allievo di Bartolomeo della Gatta, e della bottega di Lorentino d’Andrea (Florence: Tipografia Pegaso, 2009), pp. 1-3 (with bibliographic references). 11 “A special devotion to the Crucified”. Silvana Vecchio, “Giovanni della Verna”,

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through the practice of self-mortification. Because of this vocation, his parents sent him to the convent of the Canons Regular of St. Augustine in Fermo. For the young Giovanni, the Augustinians lived too rich a life, which forced him to flee, “fuggiva le delizie corporali e macerava il suo corpo con l’astinenza”.12 Attracted by the minor friars’ austerity, at thirteen years old, Giovanni decided to take the Franciscan habit.13 Though little is known of his early period in the order, we do know from the scant sources that he adhered to the purest of Franciscan teachings: deep humility, strict poverty, and sincere spirituality.14

Figure 4: Cappella del Beato Giovanni della Verna, La Verna Monastery (Arezzo).

Through careful contemplation of the life of Jesus, Giovanni found joy in executing the most humble works in the convent and the world outside. He refused to own anything bar his habit and his breviary, and dedicated his time to mortifying his flesh, practicing strict asceticism and prayer.15 Driven by a profound loyalty to St. Francis’ teachings, in 1292 he arrived Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 2001), LVI, p. 256. 12 “He escaped corporal pleasures and macerated his body with abstinence”, I Fioretti di San Francesco, ed. by Giacomo V. Sabatelli (La Verna-Arezzo: Edizioni La Verna, 1966), p. 190. 13 Vita del Beato Giovanni della Verna, ed. by Giacomo V. Sabatelli (La VernaArezzo: Edizioni La Verna, 1965), pp. 42-43. 14 Vecchio, “Giovanni della Verna”, p. 257. 15 Vecchio, “Giovanni della Verna”, p. 257.

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at La Verna.16 Giovanni spent the next thirty years of his life drawing strength from his proximity to the place where the saint received stigmata, while he undertook a spiritual life of prayer and devotion to the Lord. During this time, he was afflicted with moments of deep despair, until one day, while living in complete seclusion, Christ appeared to him by a beech tree.17 Giovanni died at La Verna on 10 August 1322.18 A life dedicated to combating the trials of earthly life through “maravigliose consolazioni e visitazioni divine,”19 had, through preaching, also evangelised Tuscany, and more broadly, the territories outside the region. Though Franciscan sources always record him as a man of great devotion, Giovanni was only beatified in 1880 by Pope Leo XII.20 During his thirty years at La Verna, the blessed Giovanni had always lived in austerity, contemplation and prayer, in a modest place, “di tavole e di frasche”,21 near the holy hermitage of the sanctuary. The existing building, small in dimensions and almost square, is in the form of, “una crociera ad arco tondo che posa su peducci sagomati”22 dated from the end of the 15th century. Built in stone after Giovanni’s death, it testifies to the great devotion in which he was held and the strength of his memory even many years after his death.23

16 Lorenzo Berardini, L’esaltante avventura: vita del Beato Giovanni della Verna (La Verna-Arezzo: Edizioni La Verna, 1980); Vecchio, “Giovanni della Verna”, p. 257. 17 Berardini, L’esaltante avventura: vita del Beato Giovanni della Verna; Vecchio, “Giovanni della Verna”, pp. 257-258. 18 “Wonderful consolations and divine Visitation”. I Fioretti di San Francesco, pp. 191-192. 19 Berardini, L’esaltante avventura: vita del Beato Giovanni della Verna; Vecchio, “Giovanni della Verna”, pp. 257-259. 20 Baldini, Testimonianze pittoriche del culto del Beato Giovanni alla Verna fra XV e XVI secolo. Gli affreschi di Domenico Pecori, allievo di Bartolomeo della Gatta, e della bottega di Lorentino d’Andrea, p. 9. 21 “Of tables and branches”. Mariano da Firenze, Dialogo del sacro monte della Verna, p. 94. 22 “From a round arched cross, which stands on shaped corbels”. Mario Salmi, “Il pittore della cappella del Beato Giovanni della Verna”, Studi francescani, 2 (1915), pp. 133-135, especially, p. 133. 23 Saturnino Mencherini, Guida illustrata della Verna (Quaracchi-Florence: Tip. Collegio di S. Bonaventura, 1921), p. 275; Baldini, Testimonianze pittoriche del culto del Beato Giovanni alla Verna fra XV e XVI secolo. Gli affreschi di Domenico Pecori, allievo di Bartolomeo della Gatta, e della bottega di Lorentino d’Andrea, p. 8.

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Figure 5: Cappella del Beato Giovanni della Verna [1961], La Verna Monastery (Arezzo). For reasons of conservation, it was necessary to remove the frescoes of the Cappella dell’Adorazione inside the convent.

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The frescoes done on three of the four walls in the chapel at the end of 15th century are further evidence of the unsubdued veneration of the saint. One may deduce the subject, figures and composition of these from printed sources, dated after 1522, and photographs taken when the frescoes were detached in 1961.24 The painting represents a scene of Christ Crucified flanked by the blessed Giovanni who kneels with the cross in his hand, the Madonna, St. Anthony of Padua, St. John Evangelist, and a (partly damaged) Franciscan saint. The scene was originally on the altar wall of the blessed Giovanni’s chapel, while two other scenes with at least three medallions were painted on the lateral sides of the chapel. Those scenes followed the irregular shape of the walls and windows. On the right wall was La Verna mount possession by two friars sent by St. Francis, “accompagnati dai soldati del conte Orlando, la prima venuta di Francesco alla Verna in compagnia del detto conte e la costruzione della prima cella con rami di alberi”.25 Due to the poor state of conservation, we can only recognise two friars in the mandorla and three monks below on the right. Behind their backs, we can see a simple earth and branch hut and a crucifix amongst the rocks on the left side of the central figures. The other episode depicted, which occupied the left wall but was since lost, represented the Miracle of the thirsty farmer. The three medallions, originally placed on the chapel’s ribbed vaults, represented the popular tradition of the frequent consolationi et apparitioni26 experienced by Giovanni da Fermo while at La Verna. The extant payment records allow us to date the frescoes from between July and September 1499 and to assign them to the hand of the painter, Domenico Pecori. Domenico Pecori was born around 1479 in Arezzo, where he lived his entire life. He received his artistic education in Arezzo in 1490 as a pupil in the studio of one of the most important Tuscan painters of the late Quattrocento: Bartolomeo della Gatta. Pecori looked to Bartolomeo’s style, innovating to make it his own, but without great success. It was, at least, easily recognisable, as a cursive derivation of his master’s aesthetic

24

Baldini, Testimonianze pittoriche del culto del Beato Giovanni alla Verna fra XV e XVI secolo. Gli affreschi di Domenico Pecori, allievo di Bartolomeo della Gatta, e della bottega di Lorentino d’Andrea, p. 8. 25 “Came with count Orlando’s soldiers, the first arrival of Francesco to La Verna with the count and the building of the first cell with trees’ branches” (Mencherini, Guida illustrata della Verna, p. 273). 26 “Comforts and apparitions” (Mariano da Firenze, Dialogo del sacro monte della Verna, p. 95).

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language.27 The frescoes at La Verna are the oldest surviving examples of Pecori’s production, his older paintings now lost, now existing only in documentary records.28 It is no surprise that the friars of La Verna patronised an artist like Pecori, whose reputation was well-established in Arezzo, and given the fame of Bartolomeo della Gatta’s studio and expertise in fresco. Indeed, the choice was justified when we consider that Pecori’s frescoes in the blessed Giovanni’s chapel, in the middle of the forest in a harsh mountain climate, survived the damp of Mount Verna for five centuries.

Figure 6: Domenico Pecori, Crucified Christ among the Blessed Giovanni, kneeling with the cross in his hand, Madonna, Saint Antonio from Padova, Saint Giovanni the Evangelist and a mutilated Franciscan saint, Cappella dell’Adorazione, La Verna Monastery (Arezzo).

This cycle is important in the history of Aretine painting, as much for its artistic qualities as for the reasons that drove the friars to commission it. The chapel was then, as now, accessible only to the friars; thus, the religious message expressed by the paintings is addressed only to them. In 27

Nicoletta Baldini, La bottega di Bartolomeo della Gatta. Domenico Pecori e l’arte in terra d’Arezzo fra Quattro e Cinquecento (Florence: Olschki, 2004). 28 Baldini, La bottega di Bartolomeo della Gatta. Domenico Pecori e l’arte in terra d’Arezzo fra Quattro e Cinquecento.

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this way, the deep faith of the blessed Giovanni, his devoted life and all that it represented (i.e. deprivation of the self out of pure love for the Lord) was an exemplum ever in the minds of La Verna’s friars during their most private moments of contemplation.

Figure 7: Friars’ Dormitory, La Verna Monastery (Arezzo).

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This is not the case of the other cycle. The fresco in the friars’ dormitory was started soon after the decoration of the chapel in the summer of 1500, but then interrupted for nine years before being completed in 1509. In three of the four ancient corridors that form the dormitory building, the associated saints and beatified of the Franciscan order were painted, all half-length and inside fifty-one medallions.29 These images are inserted inside perspective oculi above the entrances to the cells, and each has a painted cartouche, describing the portrayed figures. The figures of the friars chosen to be represented were examples of rare and pure devotion, following the archetype of the blessed Giovanni whose example the friars were inspired to follow. In the later phase of artistic activity in 1509, friars who had evangelised abroad, often martyred as a result of their preaching, were also included.30 All this work was by Gerino (Gerini) da Pistoia. Helped by an anonymous painter in the first phase in 1500, and then by Giovan Battista Pistoiese in the second phase in 1509, Gerini painted medallions with Franciscan saints and blessed at two different moments; his depictions of martyrdom are particularly vivid. Such rawness helped to emphasise to the friars, especially the novices, the virtuousness of evangelisation fundamental to the order since its foundation.31 The figures depicted include the blessed Giovanni Martonozzi da Montepulciano, who during the 14th century was imprisoned and martyred, and had his body cut in two with a saw after evangelising the people of Cairo.32 Similarly gruesome, the blessed Stefano of Hungary who, during the 14th century, was twice burnt at the stake, surviving both times, and was eventually killed by the sword and stoning.33 His companion, Giovanni of Castile, was crucified in the Holy Land.34 Gerino also painted Livonia’s blessed martyrs, or Lithuania’s 29

There were originally fifty-two medallions. See: Gerino da Pistoia alla Verna. Un ciclo cinquecentesco di affreschi restituito alla luce, ed. by Anna Giorgi (Villa Verucchio-Rimini: Pazzini Stampatore Editore, 2007). 30 Anna Giorgi, “I Santi e Beati francescani affrescati nei medaglioni della Verna”, Gerino da Pistoia alla Verna. Un ciclo cinquecentesco di affreschi restituito alla luce, pp. 81-143. 31 Josephine Rogers Mariotti, “Artisti pistoiesi alla Verna”, Gerino da Pistoia alla Verna. Un ciclo cinquecentesco di affreschi restituito alla luce, pp. 145-199. 32 Giorgi, “I Santi e Beati francescani affrescati nei medaglioni della Verna”, p. 97; the fresco was painted by Gerino in 1509: Rogers Mariotti, “Artisti pistoiesi alla Verna”, p. 180. 33 Giorgi, “I Santi e Beati francescani affrescati nei medaglioni della Verna”, p. 99; the fresco was painted by Gerino in 1509: Rogers Mariotti, “Artisti pistoiesi alla Verna”, p. 179. 34 Giorgi, “I Santi e Beati francescani affrescati nei medaglioni della Verna”, p. 98;

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martyrs killed in Vilnius,35 the blessed Antonio da Rosate,36 the blessed monsignor Giacomo Ciuffagni from Florence, a bishop killed in 1362 in China,37 the blessed martyrs from Bulgaria38 and holy Pietro of Siena.39 The frescoes dedicated to the life of the blessed Giovanni, undertaken by Domenico Pecori, were the work of a relatively minor, although named, artist from Arezzo. The medallions with the order’s saints and beatified by Gerino da Pistoia, were instead the work of a well-trained painter. Born in Pistoia in 1480, he trained in Florence in the studio of Pietro Perugino, one of the most famous artists in Italy at the turn of the 15th century.40 As it was for Domenico Pecori, the frescoes at La Verna represent one of Gerino’s very first commissions, and given his later career, they must have become a certain success. Indeed, the painter was recalled to La Verna eight years later to complete the cycle in the friar’s dormitory. In the intervening period, he was given commissions in the area of San Sepolcro, the city where Piero della Francesca was born, and where the celebrated artist had died only a few years before.41 At La Verna, Gerino’s artistic language successfully represented the order’s saints and beatified members. In the dormitory’s corridors – the physical space in which the friars lived – the rawness of their brothers’ martyrdoms, combined with their Franciscan virtues of mercy and gentleness, provided a daily remembrance to the friars to remain true to their order’s intentions. In the fresco cycle dedicated to the blessed Giovanni, this theme is continuous: adherence to the purest Franciscan the fresco was painted by Giovan Battista Pistoiese in 1509: Rogers Mariotti, “Artisti pistoiesi alla Verna”, p. 196. 35 Giorgi, “I Santi e Beati francescani affrescati nei medaglioni della Verna”, p. 106; the fresco was painted by Gerino in 1509: Rogers Mariotti, “Artisti pistoiesi alla Verna”, p. 180. 36 Giorgi, “I Santi e Beati francescani affrescati nei medaglioni della Verna”, p. 107; the fresco was painted by Gerino in 1509: Rogers Mariotti, “Artisti pistoiesi alla Verna”, p. 180. 37 Giorgi, “I Santi e Beati francescani affrescati nei medaglioni della Verna”, p. 113; the fresco was painted by Gerino in 1509: Rogers Mariotti, “Artisti pistoiesi alla Verna”, pp. 151-152. 38 Giorgi, “I Santi e Beati francescani affrescati nei medaglioni della Verna”, p. 108; the fresco was painted by Gerino in 1509: Rogers Mariotti, “Artisti pistoiesi alla Verna”, p. 180. 39 Giorgi, “I Santi e Beati francescani affrescati nei medaglioni della Verna”, p. 96; the fresco was painted by Giovan Battista Pistoiese in 1509: Rogers Mariotti, “Artisti pistoiesi alla Verna”, p. 196. 40 Rogers Mariotti, “Artisti pistoiesi alla Verna”, pp. 153-170. 41 Rogers Mariotti, “Artisti pistoiesi alla Verna”, pp. 155-164.

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teachings which are celebrated in a calm and almost popular way, and whose message of poverty, humility, and sincere spirituality was addressed as an exemplum by which the friars should conduct themselves personally. However, the dormitory cycle departs from this theme. Instead, the mission, bequeathed to the order by their founder – to evangelise God’s word to the world – was illustrated and emphasised to the friars, especially to the novices, as they began their lives in the Franciscan monastery of La Verna.

Figure 8: Gerino Gerini da Pistoia, Beato Stefano d’Ungheria, Friars’ Dormitory, La Verna Monastery (Arezzo).

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Figure 9: Gerino Gerini da Pistoia, Beati Martiri di Livonia, Friars’ Dormitory, La Verna Monastery (Arezzo).

Figure 10: Gerino Gerini da Pistoia, Beato Antonio da Rosate, Friars’ Dormitory, La Verna Monastery (Arezzo).

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Devotion and Evangelisation in two Fresco Cycles

Figure 11: Gerino Gerini da Pistoia, Beato Giacomo Ciuffagni, Friars’ Dormitory, La Verna Monastery (Arezzo).

WOMEN’S STANDING IN SOCIETY AND THE FAMILY AS SEEN IN AN EXAMPLE OF LATE-GOTHIC SECULAR SCULPTURE1 ANTÒNIA JUAN UNIVERSITAT DE LES ILLES BALEARS

Some time ago, Matilde Azcárate de Luxán observed that female iconography preserved in religious buildings was far from ideal for understanding the social position and significance of women. This was due to the emblematic and stereotypical nature of the depictions, created to shore up the Catholic Church’s dogmatic and doctrinal interests.2 Even so, medieval women have generally been seen in art through works that are essentially religious, as secular art is relatively rare. From among examples of the latter, however, some interesting images have been preserved which reflect the role played by women in the domestic sphere, and which also highlight their standing in society at large. A prime example is the sculptural relief that adorns a late-Gothic doorway in a Majorcan seigniorial house found in Palma’s Gothic quarter. Through studying and analysing this, we hope to demonstrate how Majorcan women of the late 15th and early 16th centuries stood within the family and, by extension, in society as a whole. Some of the conclusions reached suggest nothing new within the current historiographic consensus, but it was a novelty to find a piece of secular Gothic sculpture that shows the basic principles supposed to frame female behaviour. This sculpture also provides a clear example of the growing interest in classical writers among Majorcan humanists, as well as in contemporary literature dealing with women and the married state.

1

Abbreviation used: ARM, Arxiu del Regne de Mallorca. Matilde Azcárate, “Trascendencia iconográfica de la mujer en los tímpanos góticos españoles”, La condición de la mujer en la Edad Media, ed. by Yves-René Fonquerne and Alfonso Esteban (Madrid: Universidad Complutense, 1986), p. 459.

2

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1. The role of married women between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance The role played by women at the end of the Middle Ages and the beginning of the modern era varied little in essentials from what had been the case in previous centuries. In general they were limited to domestic and marital duties (fidelity to males, showing docility and respect, etc.), among which producing sons was the most highly valued, as it ensured the survival of the male line.3 The truly vital stages in women’s lives were those of marriage and maternity, whilst infancy and adolescence were simply regarded as stages prior to this, and old age as something which came afterwards.4 Depending on a woman’s social background, the range and variety of duties she carried out could differ (working on the land, helping in a husband’s workshop and/or shop, etc.). It is also true that noblewomen enjoyed wealth, respect and power on a scale unthinkable for those belonging to humbler stations in life.5 They all, however, shared the fact that they were considered inferior to men, both physically and intellectually – with the exception of a few outstanding women at court.6 This is one of the reasons why their capacity for action was limited to family and domestic spheres,7 something acutely felt by women of higher social standing, whose range of activities was prescribed even more than was the case for those belonging to the hoi polloi. Unlike the latter, women of noble birth or those who formed part of the urban patrician class had their appearances in society further restrained by a whole series of coercive traditions which restricted their freedom for the sake of family honour.8 3

Manuel Núñez, Casa, calle, convento. Iconografia de la mujer bajomedieval (Santiago de Compostela: Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, 1997), p. 63. 4 Reyna Pastor, “Para una historia social de la mujer hispano-medieval. Problemática y puntos de vista”, La condición de la mujer en la Edad Media, pp. 188 and 192; Margaret L. King, “La mujer en el Renacimiento”, El hombre del Renacimiento, ed. by Eugenio Garin (Madrid: Alianza, 1988), p. 262. 5 Pastor, “Para una historia social de la mujer hispano-medieval. Problemática y puntos de vista”, p. 187. 6 Manuel Fernández, Casadas, monjas, rameras y brujas. La olvidada historia de la mujer española en el Renacimiento (Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 2002), pp. 77-95. 7 Roberto J. López, “María como modelo de comportamiento para las mujeres según las publicaciones religiosas españolas del siglo XVIII”, Vírgenes, Reinas y Santas. Modelos de mujer en el mundo hispano, ed. by David González (Huelva: Universidad de Huelva, 2007), p. 147. 8 Núñez, Casa, calle, convento. Iconografia de la mujer bajomedieval, p. 201.

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Throughout history examples can be cited of women who stood out – even above men, in some cases – and were independent, such as Christine de Pizan, but these cases are always exceptional. The norm was female dependence on the male, both economically and legally, and respect for the rules and standards imposed by the latter. To help us grasp the role played by women within the family and in the domestic sphere, the visual source presented here will constitute the primary piece of evidence in this article. Written sources, however, should not be disregarded because, as noted, the scarcity of visual works of secular provenance means that our conclusions can be strengthened by supporting documentation. In this respect, the literary productions of the age, above all treatises on matrimony by certain moralists and philosophers,9 are vitally important for understanding what was, or rather was supposed to be, the role played by married women. Medieval and modern anti-feminine literature looked to a longstanding tradition of authors and works, and in spite of the fact that in the same era, pro-feminine literature also had its champions, the former predominated thanks to the socio-historic context.10 Books such as La perfecta casada by the Augustine friar Luís de León are not considered by some as misogynist in the full sense of the word, but rather as a reflection of an attitude held by society at large with regard to the role women were supposed to play. But a misogynistic charge can be levelled at such a work, not only because it predicates the behaviour of women on the wellbeing of their husbands, but also because of the offensive expressions found in its text, including clichés and assertions of a male chauvinistic nature.11 La perfecta casada, often cited as one of the most celebrated 9

Literary works on this theme were abundant, but there is one in particular which must be mentioned, De institutione feminae christianae, in particular the second book dedicated to married women. Juan Luís Vives, De institutione feminae christianae, trans. by Joaquín Beltrán (Valencia: Ajuntament de València, 1994). 10 For a bibliographic account on this subject see: Fray Luís de León, La perfecta casada, ed. by Javier San José (Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 1938), pp. 19-20, notes 30 and 32. 11 By way of example: Porque como la mujer sea de su natural flaca y deleznable más que ningún otro animal, y de su costumbre e ingenio una cosa quebradiza y melindrosa; Y que, para que un hombre sea bueno, le basta un bien mediano; mas en la muger ha de ser negocio de muchos y subidos quilates; [Las mujeres] Cuando más gastan, tanto les place más el gastar [...] Los hombres, si les acontece ser gastadores [...] lo son en cosas [...] duraderas o honrosas [...] mas el gasto de las mugeres es todo en el aire, la mujer no ha de traspasar la ley del marido, y en todo les ha de obedescer y servir (“Because women are by nature weaker and more unstable than any other animal, and by custom and inclination

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texts on marriage, was first published in 1583 and thus slightly after the time-span being considered here; even so, the mentality at the end of the 16th century had not changed so much from that of the early part or the end of the previous one, so we may still use it to extrapolate and draw conclusions.12 In the same way, in the religious manuals of the late Middle Ages, the homilies and treatises of less popular moralists and humanists, such as Fra Cherubino de Siena (in his late 15th century work, Regola della vita matrimoniale) and the Venetian Francesco Barbaro (in De re uxoria, 1513), matrimony had to be a model of “perfect friendship” in which the couple’s love and dedication to one another encouraged the proper development of blessed and Christian family life. Nevertheless, this ideal is apparently disregarded when the same authors assert that the woman had to “love the husband, console him and be his source of inspiration”,13 tantamount to saying that she had to put his wellbeing before her own. Luís Vives illustrates this perfectly when he comes up with the following expression: tu marido, a ese corazón que debía ser más querido por ti que el tuyo propio (“your husband, to that heart which should be more loved by you than your own”14). The wife was expected, as has been said so many times, to effectively be “the warrior’s refuge”. Thus the married woman’s sole purpose in life was basically reduced to two things: firstly to keep her husband happy by being faithful and submissive, and secondly, to perpetuate the lineage. How, then, was she to act? Simply submit to prevailing rules and standards. She might have rebelled, of course, but all were aware that such a course led directly to punishment, ostracism and even destitution. Women who behaved improperly according to the established norms could be maltreated and subjected to blows and injuries, something approved of by the selfsame moralists who defended reciprocal love in the married couple. For a wife surprised in adultery there could be no further respect or rehabilitation, only repudiation, scorn and criticism, especially if the deed fragile and finicky”; “For a man to be good an average degree of perfection suffices; but for a woman, goodness is a matter of very many and very costly degrees of perfection”; “The more [women] spend, the more they enjoy spending [...] When men spend money [...] they purchase things [...] which last and are useful, [...] while women spend money on airy nothings”, “a woman must not go against her husband’s rulings, and in every way must obey and serve him”). Fray Luís de León, La perfecta casada, pp. 86-87, 98 and 132. 12 The reader is referred to the work already cited by Juan Luís Vives. 13 King, “La mujer en el Renacimiento”, p. 271. 14 Juan Luís Vives, De institutione feminae christianae, p. 206.

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occurred outside the confines of the conjugal home, since it was the husband’s honour which had been jeopardised.15 It might be restored through the death of the lovers – which the husband himself could carry out,16 something revealed in wood engravings from the late 15th century, such as those which illustrate the Cent nouvelles nouvelles. The situation of many women must have been so desperate that some even tried to kill their husbands, despite being well aware of the fate awaiting them should they be found out. I believe this to be the case with Agnès, wife of the jurisdictional official, the veguer of the Majorcan capital, accused in February 1492 of having fatally poisoned her husband, for which she was sent to prison.17 Thus, apart from specific cases where they adopted an attitude of rebellion – which usually had a tragic end for them – women generally submitted to their husbands, and put up with their position as best they could. As will be seen in the sculpture examined below, inducements were occasionally offered to women to mitigate this sorry state of affairs, but these could even be viewed as adding insult to injury.

2 An example of late-Gothic secular sculpture as a reflection of the condition of married women 2. 1. Location The work analysed here is preserved in an aristocratic house located at Calle Morey, Palma de Mallorca. This palazzo was built at the beginning of the 16th century after being commissioned by the Vivot family, prominent and wealthy Majorcans who belonged to the patrician elite. Over the following centuries, the property has undergone various reforms and been under different ownership, hence the various names by which it has been known – Can Vivot, Can Prohens, Ca n’Ordines d’Almadrà and Ca n’Alabern – each one alluding to the surname of a respective proprietor.18 15

Núñez, Casa, calle, convento. Iconografia de la mujer bajomedieval, p. 252. Fernández, Casadas, monjas, rameras y brujas. La olvidada historia de la mujer española en el Renacimiento, p. 131. 17 ARM, Real Patrimonio, 3641, fol. 49r. 18 Aina Pascual and Donald G. Murray, La casa y el tiempo. Interiores señoriales de Palma, 2 vols. (Palma: Olañeta, 1988), I, p. 94; Gaspar Valero, Itineraris pel centre històric de Palma (Palma: Ajuntament de Palma, 2004), p. 46. According to other authors, the house was built on the orders of the Vivot family in the mid-16th century (Mercedes Gambús and Maria Massanet, Itinerarios arquitectónicos de las 16

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The work that concerns us is to the right of the entrance courtyard. It consists of a late-Gothic sculptural relief that adorns the doorway leading to the house’s estudi or estudis.

Estudi doorways belong to a fascinating type highly characteristic of the civil architecture of Majorca – and other territories on the Iberian Peninsula, above all, the domains of the Crown of Aragon – especially Islas Baleares (Palma: Conselleria d’Educació i Cultura del Govern de les Illes Balears, 1987), p. 44); bearing in mind that the death of the promoter Berenguer de Vivot occurred in 1550, however, it seems logical that the building work began at the beginning of the 16th century rather than in the middle.

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from the late 15th century onwards. They have not, however, attracted the attention they deserve from serious researchers, and have never been examined in a monographic study. The few references we have to them are found in studies of a general nature devoted to Palma’s Gothic houses, or else in descriptions of specific buildings in which one of these doorways has been preserved.19 To be specific, they were the spaces one passed through in order to gain access to a suite of the house’s private rooms, mainly reserved for the exclusive use of men, called estudi or estudis. As a general rule, these rooms were on the ground floor of seigniorial houses and at the far end of the courtyard. They might also on occasion be found in a room on the first floor with access via the landing of the main external staircase in the courtyard.20 Estudis are presented in existing documentation as multifunctional spaces.21 However, as the majority were found in buildings owned by the nobility, those in liberal professions or some merchant or other, it is probable that they were generally used as a combined study/office/library. In other words, as a space dedicated to reading, business and also resting, given that, on occasion, a bed is mentioned as a feature in these rooms.22 Access to the estudis was possible via one of the doorways which, as already noted, from the late 15th century acquired a special relevance within the layout of the private residence. This is supported on one hand by the rich sculptural decoration they contain, and on the other – unlike other works of architectural sculpture which are not documented – by the number of contracts regarding their construction that have come to light.23

19

Jaume Sastre, Alguns aspectes de la vida quotidiana a la Ciutat de Mallorca: Època medieval (Palma: Institut d’Estudis Baleàrics, 1997); Pascual and Murray, La casa y el tiempo. Interiores señoriales de Palma; Pedro de Montaner and Eduardo Miralles, Patios de Palma (Palma: Guillermo Canals Editor, 1991); Maria Barceló and Guillem Rosselló, La casa gòtica a la ciutat de Mallorca (Palma: Lleonard Muntaner, 2009). 20 Sastre, Alguns aspectes de la vida quotidiana a la Ciutat de Mallorca: Època medieval, p. 59. 21 Including a store-room, Barceló and Rosselló, La casa gòtica a la ciutat de Mallorca, pp. 70-71. 22 Sastre, Alguns aspectes de la vida quotidiana a la Ciutat de Mallorca: Època medieval, pp. 59-60. 23 As examples, we cite that which was built by Huguet Barxa and Bartomeu Pons in the house of the merchant Ferrer Miró in 1440, or that which the mason (lapiscida) Sebastià Isern carved in the house of the Palma citizen and doctor of law Antoni de Verí in 1509. See: Maria Barceló, “Nous documents sobre l’art de la

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These doorways are not particularly large – a typical one might be 1 metre wide and 2.5 metres high.24 They are rectangular in form, and their sculptural decoration is concentrated on the upper third, usually framed by a kind of ‘alfiz’, while the vertical jambs are finished off with corbels.25 This is where we find the sculptural work commented on below. Without doubt, the iconography depicted here is even more significant if we bear in mind that it is located in the lobby of a space that was reserved primarily, as noted, for men.

construcción”, Bolletí de la Societat Arqueològica Lul·liana, 59 (2003), pp. 221247, especially, pp. 222-223 (doc. n. 1) and 242-243 (doc. n. 18). 24 Specifically the one we are talking about is 0.88 metres wide and 2.6 metres high. 25 While this structure is typical of the studied doorways of Majorcan private residences, it should be said that similar configurations are found in other buildings in the Catalan-Aragonese territories, such as the external doorway for entering the mezzanine of the Consulate Pavilion of Valencia’s Guildhall, and doorways in the palace of Valencia’s governing body. See: Salvador Aldana, La Lonja (Valencia: Generalitat Valenciana, 1991), p. 72, and by the same author: El palau de la Generalitat valenciana (València: Generalitat Valenciana, 1995), pp. 35, 82 and 90.

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2. 2. Iconography and significance in its context The upper third of the doorway in question bears a sculpture in relief of two women flanking the coat of arms of the Vivot and Santjohan families, framed in turn by a garland held by two cupids. As well as stylistic elements, it is thanks to this emblem that the work can be dated to the early part of the century, as it informs us that it was sculpted because of the marriage of Joana of Santjohan and Berenguer de Vivot († 1550). Returning to the portrayal of the two ladies, which is what interests us here, they share the same iconographic and formal features. They are presented full on, half body, richly jewelled, and dressed in a luxurious way following the fashions of the time related to the Catholic monarchs (Ferdinand and Isabella).26 Both direct their gaze to the viewer and raise an index finger to their lips, calling for silence, while their other hands hold phylacteries. On these phylacteries one reads, divided into two parts, the following legend: Tv nvbe atqve tace. Donant arcana cylindros, alluding to the attitude these women are expected to adopt in married life. This sculptural relief has been known for some time thanks to drawings made by Rafel de Ysasi at the beginning of the 20th century27 and the commentaries of Santiago Sebastián and Antonio Alonso, among others, who analysed it in so-called architectural-sculptural terms and as a reflection of the growing humanistic interests of the time.28 Following the lead of the Majorcan poet, Costa i Llobera, these two authors identified the legend as a quote from verse 61 of the second satire of the Latin poet Juvenal, which translated means, “Marry and hold your tongues. Keep counsel and you will have jewels.”29 26

Carmen Bernís, Trajes y modas en la España de los Reyes Católicos. I. Las mujeres (Madrid: Instituto Diego Velázquez and Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1978). 27 Rafael de Ysasi, Palma de antaño a través de un cristal (Palma: Olañeta, 1998, facsimile edition), p. 75. 28 Santiago Sebastián López and Antonio Alonso Fernández, Arquitectura mallorquina moderna y contemporánea (Palma: Estudio General Luliano, 1973), p. 17. 29 Translations into Spanish are: ‘Mujer, tú te casas, y ¡a callar! Tu discreción te proporcionará valiosas gemas’, Juvenal, Sátiras, II. 61; trans. by Manuel Balasch and Miquel Dolç (Madrid: Gredos, 1991) and: ‘Tú cásate y calla; el secreto te hace regalos de piedras preciosas’, Juvenal, Sátiras, II. 61; trans. by Bartolomé Segura (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1996). With respect to other authors who commented on the work that concerns us here, G. Alomar confused the quote with an epigram by the poet Martial. See: Gabriel Alomar, “Antiguas inscripciones lapidarias en las calles y patios de la ciudad de

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Despite various commentaries that have been made about this work, from the present writer’s point of view, it has yet to be examined properly from the angle of gender studies. In this respect, both the gesture adopted by the women and the inscription that accompanies them, as well as the suggestive fact that they have been depicted in the shadow of a space reserved in general for the men of the house, must be understood as a reflection of the role within the family reserved for the women who lived there, and in particular, for the house’s wife and mistress. A role, indeed, that could easily be extended to other women of the time. Being subjected to the husband and the resigned attitude she was supposed to adopt in front of anyone who shared his lifestyle are hardly novelties for social historians, and we have already seen how the treatises of various moralists were insistent on these matters. However, what does seem to be new is the transposition of the late Gothic secular sculpture from the norms that women were supposed to follow, above all, those who belonged to a social class above that of the ordinary folk. In this sense, it can be affirmed that this work is not merely a reflection of the role that women were supposed to play in the heart of the family, but it also supposes a transposition to sculpture of the corpus of literature on matrimony composed by the age’s moralists. But there is more: the phrase from Juvenal’s second satire and the way in which the two ladies have been decked out offers a different perspective that appears highly interesting. With regard to their unusual appearance, it suffices to point out that moralists and authors of matrimonial treatises criticised wives for wearing jewels and excessively elegant clothes,30 for example they condemned luxury and the display of wealth, precisely what the sculpture under analysis presents so prominently. Another point of view now comes into operation, one that helps us gain a full and proper understanding of the work. The sculpture was made at a point in time when the growing tide of humanism in Majorca was leading to the recovery of works by classical writers.31 A substantial number of authors from Antiquity appear in the inventories of Majorcan citizens,32 and some of the former had broached Palma”, Papeles de Son Armadans, 50 (1960), pp. 185-209, especially, pp. 190191. 30 Juan Luís Vives, De institutione feminae christianae, pp. 227 and 230; Fray Luís de León, La perfecta casada, pp. 96-97 and 143-144. 31 Maria Barceló and Gabriel Ensenyat, Els nous horitzons culturals a Mallorca al final de l’edat mitjana (Palma: Documenta Balear, 2000). 32 Jocelyn N. Hillgarth, Readers and books in Majorca. 1229-1550, 2 vols. (Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1991).

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the subject of matrimony, like Juvenal himself. Thus, we see that the lateGothic sculpture under discussion also reflects the recovery of classical literature undertaken in Majorca at that time.

Turning now to Juvenal himself, it should be pointed out that his second satire is notable for the sarcasm and criticism directed towards upper-class homosexuals whose wives were obliged to share their bedrooms with other men, but who kept quiet in exchange for a comfortable and cushioned life. When we examine the relief, it seems somewhat unlikely that the Majorcan promoter had the same thing in mind as the Latin author, as it clearly made little sense for him to want to allude to homosexuality in his own house, albeit so subtly. Far less, when bearing in mind the way homosexuals were perceived in contemporary society, if he or someone in the family should have been so inclined.33 Thus the relief of this particular estudi doorway appears as a sculptured manifestation that combines the tracts of the period on the roles women were supposed to play, above all married women, with a renewed interest in the classics. But – and herein lies the key point – the original sense of Juvenal’s satire has been twisted to make it fit the socio-historic mores of the age, a context in which women were supposed to be silent, adopting a submissive and resigned attitude. An attitude whereby, despite moralists’ 33

Ramon Rosselló, L’homosexualitat a Mallorca a l’edat mitjana (Palma de Mallorca: Felanitx, 1977).

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criticisms, they were perceived as being ‘compensated’ with certain counterweights of a material nature – which were, if anything, even more humiliating.

Conclusion The work analysed here is unique for various reasons. First of all, for being – at present – the only known example of late-Gothic secular sculpture preserved in the Catalan-Aragonese sphere which alludes specifically to the role of women in the state of matrimony. And secondly, for the cynical attitude with which the subject has been treated and the double standards it implies, given its location at the entrance of a room used largely by men, and the piece’s literary and sculptural content. The sculptural relief can thus be understood as an allegory of the “perfect wife”, both that which was required and expected of her as well as the attitudes and behaviour she was expected to adopt,34 rewarded materially in the case of families who enjoyed substantial purchasing power. In short, the sculptural model presented here reflects both the role reserved for married women who formed part of the urban patrician elite in Spain at the end of the Middle Ages and the beginning of the Modern era, as well as their standing in the family – and by extension, in society. It presents, furthermore, the transposition into sculpture of not only of the era’s moralising concepts, but also the renewed interest in classical authors among Majorca’s humanists. As far as the Balearic context is concerned, the estudi doorway relief in the property that once belonged to the Vivot family stands out today for its rarity and uniqueness as a fascinating artistic depiction of the condition of women; as such, it constitutes an indisputable source of information for gender studies focused on the transitional period between the medieval and modern eras. 39

34 Fernández, Casadas, monjas, rameras y brujas. La olvidada historia de la mujer española en el Renacimiento, pp. 119-125.

39

CRYING TEARS, TEARING CLOTHES: EXPRESSING GRIEF AND RAGE IN THE MIDDLE AGES ANA DEL CAMPO SAINT ANDREWS UNIVERSITY

The aim of my paper is to present an overview of the gestures and actions that were involved in mourning in the Middle Ages, as well as to provide a brief explanation of how medieval people conceived of and interpreted mourning rituals. In order to do so, I propose a journey through some Iberian medieval sources. Let me begin with the chronicle of the knight Miguel Lucas de Iranzo, known as the Hechos del condestable, written in the third quarter of the 15th century. This chronicle narrates how Don Miguel withdrew to his chamber in his palace in Jaen immediately after he learnt that his younger brother had died in Salamanca in 1464. This nobleman remained there completely alone for nine days. He only abandoned his seclusion when his other brother came to accompany him. Then Iranzo emerged from his room dressed in his mourning garments, a black cloak with a long train and a big hood. His brother, his brother’s cortege and the members of his own house, all of them wearing similar outfits, were waiting for him in the dining hall. As soon as Iranzo crossed the threshold of the dining hall, the people there initiated a ritual of mourning that consisted of shedding tears and tearing their hair and beards, as well as their clothes. The scene is said to have been so moving that no one there could help crying too (començaron vn llanto IJ vna mesa tan grande que no avíe presona de quantos lo vieron que pudiese refrenar el llorar ni los frequentes solloços).1 1

Hechos del condestable don Miguel Lucas de Iranzo (crónica del siglo XV), ed. by Juan de Mata (Madrid, Seville and Granada: Marcial Pons, Universidad de Sevilla and Universidad de Granada, 2009), pp. 235-236, chap. XXII: Onde como, ocho o diez días antes de la fiesta de nuestra señora Santa María de agosto, le troxiesen nueuas quel señor don Alonso de Yranço, su hermano, arçediano de la

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This act of extreme collective mourning lasted “a while” (después de aver algúnd espaçio durado), but finally everybody restrained themselves and listened to the service of vespers. After that, many people from the town (both laypeople and clergy, noble and common people, rich and poor) went to the palace to pay their respects and express their condolences to the nobleman Iranzo. In order to do so, they re-enacted the above-mentioned mourning ritual, although the chronicle only makes reference to tearing hair, beards and clothes and does not mention any weeping (se començaron a mesar). When everybody calmed down, two

santa eglesia de Toledo, que estaua en el estudio de Salamanca, era muerto, ovo dello muy grande, avnque de otra parte asaz tenprado IJ moderado, sentimiento. Y en tanto que se facía luto para todos los de su casa, así onbres como mugeres, siempre estouo ençerrado en vna cámara, que no le vido persona, ni la señora condesa su muger, saluo dos o tres pajes niños que le seruian y le dauan de comer y vestir. Y con aquellos enbiaua mandar a cada vno lo que quería ordenar. [...] Y así estouo fasta la biéspera de la dicha Señora, que en tanto que se dicían las bísperas, por su ordenança e mandado, el comendador de Montizón, su hermano, vino de su posada con todos los caualleros IJ escuderos IJ pajes IJ otros criados del dicho señor Condestable, vestidos de luto, con sus colas IJ capirotes, al palaçio del dicho señor Condestable. Y entraron en la dicha sala, y asentáronse todos por órden, así dentro como fuera della, por los corredores. Y así venidos, dende a poco salió de su cámara, do estaua, que era al vn cabo de la dicha sala, vestido así mesmo de luto. Y des quel comendador su hermano IJ los suyos le vieron salir, començaron vn llanto IJ vna mesa tan grande que no avíe persona de quantos lo vieron que pudiese refrenar el llorar ni los frequentados solloços (“where like, eight or ten days before the feast of our lady Saint Mary of August, news arrived that lord Alonso de Yranço, his brother, archdeacon of the holy church of Toledo, who was in the University of Salamanca, was dead, had for him great sentiment, although at the same time and on the other hand, it was a tempered and moderate sentiment. And while mourning was done for all those of his house, both men and women, he was inside a room, and no-one saw him, not even his wife, the lady countess, except for two or three pageboys who served him food and a clothing. Through them, he sent out the orders to everyone that he wishes to order. And he was like that until the eve of the festivity of our Lady. When the vespers were being prayed for this festivity, through his order and command, the commander of Montizón, who was his brother, came form his home with all the knights, squires, pages and other servants of the constable, all dressed in mourning, with their tails and hoods to the constable’s palace. They entered said room, all sat by order, in both the hall and the corridor. This being so, he left the room where he was, that was at one end of the hall, also dressed in mourning. And when his brother the commander and his men saw him come out, they began to weep, and to pull their hair, in such a spectacular fashion that no-one who saw it could avoid the weeping nor the broken sobs.”).

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men gave a speech with which they tried to console Iranzo. Once all the people were dismissed, the nobleman visited his wife, mother-in-law, and sister, who were secluded in a different chamber with many other ladies and damsels. When the women saw him, they began to cry and Iranzo himself shed many tears under his hood.2 For three days in a row the people of Jaen went to the palace to attend vespers and mourn with Iranzo afterwards. In order to put an end to these collective acts of mourning, Iranzo’s mother addressed the crowd gathered in the palace to dismiss them and to ask them not to come back on the following days so that the villagers could go back to their business until the funeral had been held. Nevertheless, Iranzo continued his private mourning and remained secluded in his palace for thirty days. After that period, he allowed himself to go out and resume his political activities, but he did so wearing black robes for a much longer period.3 2 Hechos del condestable don Miguel Lucas de Iranzo (crónica del siglo XV), pp. 236-237. 3 Hechos del condestable don Miguel Lucas de Iranzo (crónica del siglo XV), pp. 238-239: E así ficieron en la tarde, a las biésperas; IJ otro día, lunes, así mesmo, por la mañana, a la misa. Y después de venidos, estando el palaçio lleno de gente, la señora doña Guiomar les fabló desde vna ventana, lagrimando sus ojos, diciéndoles que por quel señor Condestable su fijo no les podía fablar, ella en su nombre les agradesçía muy mucho el sentimiento que de su enojo avían mostrado. Y que porque a ellos no fuese tanta fatiga, les enbiaua rogar que dende en adelante entendiese en sus negoçios IJ faciencas, que bien çierto era dellos que en sus casas o do quier que estouiesen tomaría parte de sus enojos. Y que quando las onrras se ouiesen de facer por el arçediano su hermano, él ge lo mandaría decir IJ facer saber. A lo qual por todos fué respondido que ellos venían allí por le seruir, IJ por tomar parte de sus enojos, así como la solían tomar y su merçed ge la daua de sus grandes fiestas IJ muchos placeres. Y que pues así le placía, farían lo que les enbiaua mandar. Y así se despidieron, IJ çesaron dende en delante de venir dos veces cada día, como lo solían facer. Y el señor Condestable estouo retraydo, que no caualgó, ni salió de su posada, ni lo veya persona, saluo esos que contínuamente le seruían. Y así estouo por espaçio de treynta días o más, fasta quel comendador de Oreja, su hermano, camarero del rey nuestro señor, vino a Jahén, sábado ocho de setienbre deste dicho, él y todos los suyos que con él venían vestidos de luto. E como el dicho señor Condestable supo de su venida, salió a resçebirlo fasta la dehesa, camino de Mengíbar, con fasta quatroçientos de cauallo y todos los señores de la yglesia mayor con él. Y él y los suyos asímesmo vestidos de luto; y todos los otros con capillas puestas y baruas creçidas, ca no quiso que ningunos otros de la çibdad tomasen luto, puesto que muchos lo querían tomar, saluo los continuos de su casa (“And they did so in the evening, at the time of Vespers and the other day Monday they did the same, and in the morning they went to mass.. And after coming, the palace being full of people, Lady Guiomar

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In the lengthy account of the events that took place after the death of Iranzo’s brother in the chronicle it is possible to appreciate some aspects of customary mourning in the Middle Ages: firstly, that many people were involved (the more, the better); secondly, that it implied wearing certain clothes and performing certain actions and, finally, that the mourning ritual was comprised of peak phases in which activity was frantic, and offpeak phases in which activity was restrained or dramatically stopped. However, the chronicle of Miguel Lucas de Iranzo does not fully explain how the gestures and movements were performed during the morning ritual. This book limits itself to describing what happened in these situations using verbs such as “weep”, “cry” and “tear”. Generally speaking, other Iberian chronicles are equally laconic, as they tend to describe the scenes just with sentences like “people mourned greatly”, “his/her death was much lamented” or “there were many tears, sighs and sobs”. For instance, the Primera Crónica General de España or First General Chronicle of Spain – written in the 13th century – summarises the way people mourned for Queen Berenguela I of Castile († 1246) saying that all the people of her kingdom cried for her (Llorada fue por Castilla de conceios et de todas las gentes de todas lees; muy llorada

spoke to them from a window, her eyes tearful, telling them that given that the lord Constable her son could not speak to them, she thanked them in his name very much for the sentiments that their mourning had shown. And so that it would not be so tiring for them, she prayed that from then they concern themselves with their business and estates, as it was very true that they would continue taking part in the mourning being at home or wherever they were; and that when the funeral honours had to be done for his brother the archdeacon, they would send notice and let them know. All responded that they came there to serve and take part in their mourning, in the same way that they previously had taken great reward from his great feasts and many pleasures. And given that that pleased him, they would do what they were commanded to do. And thus they bade farewell and ceased from now on to come twice a day as they were used to doing. And the lord constable was retired, and did not ride nor leave his chambers nor did anyone see him, except those who continually served him. And he was like that for a period of thirty days or more, until the commander of Oreja, his brother, chamberlain to our lord the king, came to Jaén, on Saturday eighth of September of this year;, he and all his men who came with him were dressed in mourning. And when said lord Constable heard of his arrival, he came out to greet him until the pasture, on the way to Mengíbar, with four hundred men on horseback and all the lords of the high Church with him. And he and his men likewise dressed in mourning; and all the others with hoods up and long beards, and he did not wish that anyone else from the city took to mourning, given that many wished to do so, except those close to his household.”).

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fue de caualleros pobres a quien ella muchos bienes fazia).4 Also, in the Historia de los reyes de Castilla or History of the Kings of Castile, composed by Pedro López de Ayala († 1407) in the second half of the 14th century, we find such expressions as: E fue fecho por el rey don Alfonso [XI] muy grand llanto de todos los suyos, ca ovieron gran sentimiento de la su muerte (“great mourning was made for the king”) (), also fizo el rey facer allí, e en todos sus regnos grandes llantos por ella, e grandes complimientos (“great mourning was performed”), and E fue la su muerte muy plañida de todos los suyos) (“his death was much lamented”)5 (In a similar manner, the Chronicle of the House of Niebla – written by Pedro Barrantes Maldonado († 1575) in the 16th century – frequently employs the following formula when describing a funeral: fue su muerte muy sentida y llorada, which can be translated into something like “his/her death was deeply felt and mourned”.6 Thankfully, on a few occasions the Iberian chronicles offer a much more complete depiction. Among these rare and vivid accounts, we can highlight the one in the Primera Crónica General on the death of King Ferdinand III of Castile († 1252). The author of this chronicle qualified the mourning rites that took place then as “awesome” or “wondrous” and explained that many ladies and damsels removed their wimples and veils as they scratched their faces until they bled. Similarly, men cried out loud, 4

Primera crónica general de España que mandó componer Alfonso X el Sabio y se continuaba bajo Sancho IV en 1289, ed. by Ramón Menéndez (Madrid: Editorial Gredos, 1955), I, p. 748. 5 Pedro López, Crónicas, ed. by José-Luis Martín (Barcelona: Planeta, 1991), p. 9 (Crónica de don Pedro Primero, first year, chapter I) On the death of King Alfonso IX of Castile, p. 263 (twelfth year, chapter VI). On the death of Queen María of Padilla and Crónica de don Enrique, segundo de Castilla, p. 506 (fourteenth year, chapter III). On the death of King Henry II. 6 Memorial Histórico Español. Colección de documentos, opúsculos y antigüedades, ed. By Real Academia de la Historia (Madrid: Imprenta Nacional, 1857), IX, p. 272 (on occasion of the death of Queen María of Molina) and p. 398 (Juan Alonso de Guzman). The formula changes slightly in the following accounts of deaths; Memorial Histórico Español. Colección de documentos, opúsculos y antigüedades, p. 179 (hizieron muy gran llanto por el Rey; Sancho IV of Castile), p. 180 (la Reina Doña María fue a pie mesándose y haciendo muy grant llanto; Sancho IV of Castile), p. 242 (fue muy sentida su muerte; Alonso Pérez de Guzmán), p. 244 (fueron los llantos, los lloros, los gemidos, tantos que fue cosa estraña e lastimosa de ver; Alonso Pérez de Guzmán), p. 389 (por su falleçimiento fue hecho gran llanto; Ferdinand IV of Castile), p. 473 (fue su muerte muy llorada y sentida; Henry II of Castile) and p. 531 (fue muy llorado; Juan Alonso de Guzmán).

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howled, pulled their hair and scratched their faces, too: ¿Qui podrie dezir nin contar la marauilla de los grandes llantos que por este sancto et noble e bienauenturado rey don Fernando fueron fechos por Seuilla, o el su finamiento fue et do el su sancto cuerpo yaze, et por todos los reynos de Castiella et de Leon? ¿Et quien uio tanta duenna de guisa alta et tanta donzella andar descabennadas et rascadas, ronpiendo las fazes et tornandolas en sangre et en la carne biua? ¿Quien vio tanto infante, tanto rico omne, tanto infançon, tanto cauallero, tanto omne de prestar andando baladrando, dando bozes, mesando sus cabellos et ronpiendo las fruentes et faziendo en sy fuertes cruezas? Las marauillas de los llantos que las gentes de la çipdat fazien, non es omne que lo podiese contar.7

This description coincides with the mourning scenes represented on contemporary sepulchres. Among others,8 we could mention the sarcophagus of Blanca of Navarre († 1156) in Nájera (La Rioja), where both women and men tear their hair,9 the sepulchre of Esteban Domingo († 1261) in the Cathedral of Ávila, in which the participants in the funeral cortege tear their hair,10 the tombs of Prince Philip of Castile († 1274) and his wife Princess Eleanor in Villalcázar de Sirga (Palencia), where the attendees at the funeral pull their hair and show bloody lines on their foreheads from having scratched themselves,11 and the paintings that 7

(“What could be said or told of the marvel of the great sorrow that for this saintly and noble and blessed King Ferdinand there was in Seville, where his death occurred, and also in the kingdoms of Castile and of Leon? And who saw so many high ladies such as these and so many ladies walking with the hair in a mess and with their faces so torn in grief breaking their faces and opening them in flesh and blood? Who saw so many princes, so many gentlemen, so many infants, so many knights, so many leading men, walking as if howling, crying out, tugging their hair, and ripping their foreheads and making strong cruelties on themselves?. Las marvels of the mourning that was done by the people of the city, no-one can explain”). Primera crónica general de España que mandó componer Alfonso X el Sabio y se continuaba bajo Sancho IV en 1289, I, p. 773, chapter 1133. 8 For a list of tombs depicting mourning scenes, see: Les Pleurants dans l’Art du Moyen Âge en Europe (Dijon: Musée des Beaux-Arts de Dijon and Palais des Ducs de Bourgogne, 1971), pp. 57-73. 9 Elizabeth Valdez, “Lament for a lost Queen: the sarcophagus of Doña Blanca in Nájera”, Memory and the Medieval Tomb, ed. by Elizabeth Valdez and Carol Stamatis (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), pp. 43-79. 10 Sonia Caballero, La escultura gótica funeraria de la catedral de Ávila (Ávila: Diputación de Ávila-Institución Gran Duque de Alba, 2007), pp. 82-95. 11 Regino Inclán, “Sepulcro del infante D. Felipe, hijo del rey Fernando III el Santo”, Boletín de la Real Academia de la Historia, 75/2-4 (1919), pp. 143-184;

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decorated the tomb of Sancho Sainz de Carrillo († ca. 1295) in Mahamud (Burgos), which represent people tearing their hair and scratching their foreheads and cheeks.12 Although these images are highly suggestive, they do not fully explain how the mourning ritual was performed, and are particularly useless in disentangling which were the peak and which were the off-peak phases. Thus, in order to have a more complete knowledge of how mourning unfolded and offer the most accurate catalogue or list of mourning gestures possible, I will explore some medieval Iberian literary sources. One of the most complete literary works is the poem El duelo de la Virgen (whose English translation would be The Mourning of the Virgin) and from here on, it will be used as a thread in this paper. Gonzalo de Berceo († ca. 1264), the first Spanish author whose name we know, wrote the poem in the 13th century. The Mourning of the Virgin can be considered a planctus Mariae and is highly indebted to Bernard de Clairvaux’s († 1153) Liber de passione Christi et doloribus et planctibus Matris eius, from which Berceo borrowed its formal pattern and stylistic devices, as well as the notion of compassion of Mary towards her Son and her assimilation to Him during the Passion.13 Both in The Mourning of the Virgin and in the Liber de passione Christi, Mary relates the Passion of her Son in the first person, but Berceo goes further than Saint Bernard, as he is much more explicit than the founder of the Cistercian order. Whereas Saint Bernard usually describes Mary as just sighing and weeping, Berceo delights in providing varied and lengthy details about what she did and how she felt. In other words, it seems Berceo portrays the Virgin Mary mourning in the very same way any medieval woman would do. As a result, this detailed work becomes a window into the way people – and, in particular, women – mourned in the Middle Ages.

Nuria Torres, “La muerte como aspecto de la vida cotidiana medieval: los sepulcros de Villasirga”, La vida cotidiana en la España Medieval. Actas del VI Curso de Cultura Medieval celebrado en Aguilar de Campoo (Palencia), del 26 al 30 de septiembre de 1994, dir. by Miguel Ángel García (Aguilar de Campoo: Fundación “Santa María la Real” and Centro de Estudios de Románico, 1998), pp. 427-456. 12 Francesca Español, “Sepulcro de Sancho Sainz de Carrillo, pinturas con planto fúnebre”, Vestiduras Ricas. El monasterio de las Huelgas y su época (1170-1340). Catálogo de la exposición, ed. by Joaquín Yarza (Madrid: Patrimonio Nacional, 2005), pp. 208-211. 13 Sandro Sticca, The ‘Planctus Mariae’ in the Dramatic Tradition of the Middle Ages (Athens and London: The University of Georgia Press, 1988), pp. 121-122.

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The Mourning of the Virgin begins with the Last Supper, which Jesus, Mary, Mary Magdalene, the apostles, and some other relatives and disciples are celebrating. Suddenly, a gang of armed men burst into the house and arrest Jesus. Mary immediately understands what is going on and cannot bear it. Her face pales and she faints: perdí toda la sangre, yoguí amodorrida.14 Here, we have the first of the typical gestures or actions performed in medieval mourning: fainting by the closest relatives of the dead. This is the first off-peak phase in the ritual, which took place right after Mary assumed that the death of her Son was imminent. Another example of this ante mortem fainting can be found in the Cárcel de Amor (Prison of Love), a novel written at the end of the 15th century by Diego de San Pedro, said to have inspired one of the Spanish masterpieces, La Celestina. The main character of Cárcel de Amor is Leriano, a knight who commits suicide after his damsel rejects him. While Leriano is in his death throes, his mother arrives at the house. When she learns that her son is just about to leave this world, she feels how all the strength abandons her body until she collapses senseless to the floor (oyendo que Leriano estaba en ell agonía mortal, falleciéndole la fuerça, sin ningún sentido cayó en el suelo).15 Typically, after the fainting fit, the mourner wakes up and begins or continues to make mourning gestures. In The Mourning of the Virgin, when Mary regains consciousness, she sees that she is alone in the house and goes out into the street. There she finds her sisters, who are in “extreme mourning” (those are the words employed by Berceo), and joins them. Mary’s sisters are – literally – beating their breasts while striding around the neighbourhood.16 Moreover, these young women screech and howl in despair:

14 Gonzalo de Berceo, Obra completa, coord. by Isabel Uría (Madrid: Government of La Rioja and Espasa-Calpe, 1992), p. 809 (El duelo de la Virgen, stanza 17b). 15 Diego de San Pedro, Obras completas, II: Cárcel de Amor, ed. by Keith Whinnom (Madrid: Castalia, 1971), p. 172. 16 In the Vidal Mayor, a 13th century legal compilation from the Kingdom of Aragon, it is said that streets and roads are God’s gift to human beings so that people can cry out loud what they feel in their hearts (Assí por piedat de Dius es aitorgado a declarar por voces [en] el officio al otro aqueillo que es en el coraçon del omne, assí son dadas las carreras por provisión de Dius a pro). Thus, this legal code conceives of streets and roads as a vehicle for communication. See: Vidal Mayor. Edición, introducción y notas al manuscrito, ed. by María de los Desamparados Cabanes, Asunción Blasco and Pilar Pueyo (Saragossa: Libros Certeza, 1996), p. 177, Book IV, Law 209: De iure itinerum publicarum, es a saber: Del dreito de las carreras públicas.

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Facién planto sobejo las hermaniellas mías, ambas batién sus pechos sobre las almexías, andavan ayulando fuera por las erías del mi Fijo dulcíssimo ambas eran sus tías.17

On one hand, this behaviour on the part of the Virgin’s sisters is intended to announce the news of Jesus’ arrest. On the other, it exhorts the neighbours to join them in their bereavement. Since mourning was seen both as a way of interceding with God on behalf of the deceased and as a way of honouring the dead or the person in the death throes, the more people who were mourning, the better. Other literary works show the same behaviour, that is, how the bereaved tried to gather as many people together as possible to mourn. For example, in La Celestina, we see how Pleberio asks passers-by to join him in his lament. He begs them to help him cry and help him feel his sorrow, because his daughter Melibea has just died (Ayudadme a llorar nuestra llagada postrimería, ¡oh gentes que venís a mi dolor, oh amigos y señores, ayudadme a sentir mi pena!)18. Similarly, in a series of poems written by Gómez Manrique († 1490) to be read aloud at Easter called [Coplas] fechas para la semana Santa, the Virgin addresses the onlookers and asks them to mourn with her. However, if those present cannot shed any tears, which were considered to be the most sincere way of lamenting, Mary begs them to mourn at least with groans: ¡Oh vós, hombres que transistes por la vía mundanal, decidme si jamás vistes igual dolor de mi mal! Y vosotros que tenéis padre, fijos y maridos, acorredme con gemidos, si con llantos no podéis. ¡Ay dolor! Llorad comigo, casadas; llorad comigo, doncellas,

17 (“My sisters made great mourning,/ both clung to their breasts, their cheeks;/ they went howling through the fields;/ my sweet son, both were his aunts.”). Berceo, El duelo de la Virgen, stanza 20, p. 809. 18 (“Help me mourn our wounded dying moments, oh people who come to my grieving, oh friends and lords, help me to feel my pain!.”). Fernando de Rojas, La Celestina. Tragicomedia de Calisto y Melibea, ed. by Francisco Rico et alii (Barcelona: Crítica, 2000), p. 338, auto XXI.

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314 […] Llorad comigo, llorad un dolor tan dolorido.

¡Ay dolor! Llore comigo la gente de todos los tres estados, mostrando dolor tan dolorido.19

Although Mary speaks to both men and women at the beginning of her speech, it should be pointed out that she only addresses women at the end, asking both married and single women to weep with her. Saint John the Evangelist, who is accompanying the Virgin in these tragic moments, delivers another speech, but he addresses it specifically to men and exhorts them to howl and tear their clothes: ¡Oh, pues, ombres pecadores, rompamos nuestros vestidos! ¡Con dolorosos clamores demos grandes alaridos! ¡Ay dolor! Lloremos al compañero traidor porque le vendió. Lloremos aquel cordero que sin culpa padesció.20

According to the above, that is, Mary and John addressing women and men respectively, it might be deduced that there was a certain gender separation in mourning. Many Italian sources show how women mourned inside the house of the deceased, because they were not allowed to take

19

(“Oh you, men who transit/ for this worldly life,/ tell me if you have ever seen/ such grief as mine;/ and those who have/ father, sons and husbands,/ accompany me with wailing/ if you cannot weep./ Oh what grief!/ Cry with me, wives;/ cry with me maidens,/ […]Cry with me, cry/ What grief!/ Cry with me people/ of all three classes,/ showing your heartfelt grieving.”). Gómez Manrique, [Coplas] fechas para la Semana Santa, in Teatro castellano de la Edad Media, ed. by Ronald E. Surtz (Madrid: Taurus, 1992), pp. 89-90, verses 17-27 and 32-36. 20 (“ Oh, then you sinners/ Tear your robes!/ With painful cries/ Give great outcry!/ Oh pain!/ Mourn the comrade/ Traitor because he was sold/ We cry that lamb/ who suffered without guilt.”).Manrique, [Coplas] fechas para la Semana Santa, in Teatro castellano de la Edad Media, p. 91, verses 59-67.

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part in funerals.21 At the same time, men mourned outside the house and followed the priests in procession when they came to the house to pick up the corpse.22 As far as Spain is concerned, it seems women did attend funerals, but women and men formed two different groups in the cortege, as the above-mentioned paintings on Sancho Sainz de Carrillo’s tomb suggest. Three of the four wooden panels preserved from this sepulchre show only men, and only women are depicted on the fourth.23 In the Middle Ages, people used to mourn with the bereaved without much hesitation, as mourning was understood as a social – and even religious – obligation. For instance, when Iranzo’s brother died, this nobleman’s vassals went to his palace to mourn with him because, as they explained, they wanted to serve him and take part in his sorrow in the same way they took part in his joy whenever Iranzo celebrated a party (por todos fué respondido que ellos venían allí por le servir, IJ por tomar parte de sus enojos, así como la solían tomar y su merçed ge la daua de sus grandes fiestas IJ muchos placeres).24 In other words, Iranzo’s vassals proved that grief was shared or experienced side by side with the bereaved. If we continue reading the poem The Mourning of the Virgin, we will see that Mary’s sisters were successful in convoking people to mourn, because it is said that by the time Jesus reaches Golgotha carrying the Cross many “other good women” are weeping and crying with the Virgin and her sisters. Nevertheless, Mary stands out among them and mourns more and in a more exaggerated way as was customary for the closest relatives of the person who was about to die. Thus, Mary looks at her Son, one moment she is crawling and the next she is rising up to slap her own face:

21

For instance, women did not participate in funerals in Florence; see: Sharon T. Strocchia, “Death rites and the ritual family in Renaissance Florence”, Life and Death in Fifteenth-Century Florence, ed. by Marcel Tetel, Ronald G. Witt and Rona Goffen (Durham-London: Duke University Press, 1989), pp. 126-127. 22 Carol Lansing, Passion and Order: Restraint of Grief in the Medieval Italian Communes (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2008), pp. 50-52. 23 See footnote number 12. 24 (“All responded to this by saying that they came there to serve and take part in his grief, just as before they took great mercy of his great feasts and many pleasures.”). Hechos del condestable don Miguel Lucas de Iranzo (crónica del siglo XV), p. 238, chapter XXII.

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Crying Tears, Tearing Clothes Yo mezquina estava catando mi Fijuelo, batiendo miés maxiellas, rastrando por el suelo; otras buenas mugeres, faziendo muy grant duelo con las mis dos hermanas que yo contarvos suelo.25

Moreover, the Virgin indicates that she is also shaking and shivering (lazrava en comedio yo, de tiemblas mortales).26 She feels that she wants to die (yo pidía la muerte, non me querié venir),27 especially when she contemplates how Jesus is nailed to the Cross. Mary witnesses that horrible scene with the utmost sorrow, her head down and her hand on her cheek (la cabeza colgada, triste, man a maxiella).28 This hand on the cheek was one of the most typical gestures of mourning in the Middle Ages and is well-documented all over Europe.29 Immediately after Jesus dies on the Cross, the Virgin faints again. This second fainting episode seems to be deeper than the previous one; it constitutes the second off-peak phase in the mourning ritual after the peak reached when the death occurred. The seriousness of this second fainting fit is emphasised by the poet indicating that it is caused by a “rabid illness” that has struck Mary: Quando rendió la alma el Señor glorïoso, la glorïosa Madre del mérito precioso cadió end’ amortida como de mal ravioso.30

This allusion is particularly important because it links the Virgin’s suffering to rage. And this is not the only occasion in which Berceo shows the relationships between mourning and rage; later in the poem he makes Mary declare el coraçón me rabia, non me puede folgar (“My heart is raging, it cannot find solace”) ().31 We find many other examples of enraged mourners in various literary 25 (“I was as petty remembering my son/ Beating my cheeks, dragging myself along the ground;/ other good women, making great grieving/ with my two sisters that I usually talk about.”). Berceo, El duelo de la Virgen, p. 811, stanza, 28. 26 Berceo, El duelo de la Virgen, p. 811, stanza 24d. 27 Berceo, El duelo de la Virgen, p. 811, stanza 26b. 28 Berceo, El duelo de la Virgen, p. 813, stanza 34b. 29 John A. Burrow, Gestures and Looks in Medieval Narrative (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), p. 42. 30 (“When she surrendered her soul to our glorious Lord,/ the glorious Mother of precious merit/ fell unconscious as if from rabid pain”). Berceo, El duelo de la Virgen, p. 831, stanza 109abc. 31 Berceo, El duelo de la Virgen, p. 839, stanza 140b.

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works, both in prose and in verse, from the Iberian Peninsula and elsewhere.32 Two further Castilian examples will suffice to demonstrate this. In 1350 King Alfonso XI († 1350) ordered a translation of Benoît de Saint-Maure’s Roman de Troie33 into Spanish. The resulting work was called the Crónica Troyana, but it presented many variations from the original source.34 In it we see how Hecuba, Paris’ mother, bewails the death of her son. She is being carried by some soldiers, because she has fainting fits. In one of her moments of lucidity, Hecuba begins a funeral lament and proclaims that her heart is enraged (rrauia del mi coraçon).35 In another Iberian version of the Roman de Troie – this one written in 1373 in Galician, not in Spanish – called Historia Troyana, Hecuba is presented wringing her hands, going in and out of consciousness, and howling and yelling wondrously. The anonymous author of this work finishes the description of this mourning scene remarking that Hecuba feels immeasurable rage and that anyone who sees her would say that she is performing the “mourning of a mother”, because this is what was expected from mothers: Et non ha omme enno mundo que contar podese a rrauya et a coyta que por el avia a rrayna, su madre; ca torçia as manos, et esmoriçia moytas vezes et queria se leyxar morrer con pesar, ca o coraçon se lle quería partir. Et braadaua et daua tan grandes vozes que esto era huna gran maravilla. Et quen a vise bem podía dizer que ella fazia doo de madre.36

32 As far as other European regions are concerned, we can cite, for instance, the French poem De la bonne empereris qui garda loiaument sen mariage, where it is said: D’ire et de duel la lasse fame / Ses blondes tresces tire et ront, vv. 17321733. See: Myriam Rolland-Perrin, Blonde comme l’or. La chevelure féminine au Moyen Âge (Aix-en-Provence: Publications de l’Université de Provence, 2010), p. 173. 33 Benoît de Saint-Maure, Le roman de Troie, 6 vol. ed. by Léopold Constans (Paris: Firmin-Didot et Cie, 1904-1912). 34 Pedro de Chinchilla, Libro de la Historia Troyana, ed. by María Dolores Peláez (Madrid: Editorial Complutense, 1992), p. 50. 35 Crónica Troyana, ed. by Erin M. Rebhan (Burgos, 1490), p. 355. Edition in PDF format available online: eHumanista: Monographs in Humanities . 36 (“No man in the world could tell the rage and pain she suffered for her mother; she twisted her hands, she mortified herself many times and wanted to let herself die of grief, because her heart wanted to break. And she yelled and gave such great voices was a great wonder. And they who saw her could well say she was mourning deeply for her mother.”). Historia Troyana, ed. by Kelvin M. Parker

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We should bear in mind that rage, anger or wrath – ira in Latin – was considered to be both one of the Seven Deadly Sins according to an ancient tradition which began in the 4th century with the monk Evragius of Pontus († ca. 400), and also a vice according to the Psychomachia written by Prudentius († ca. 413).37 Thus, in the case of mourning, the closest relatives of the deceased experience anger against those who have killed their loved one or, more generally, against the gods who have allowed the death. None of this was acceptable for the Church. Firstly, because the faithful could not criticise God and his Divine plan for humanity, although this plan might involve deaths that could be defined as unfair or premature. Consequently, Saint Augustine warned that an angry person was on the verge of committing blasphemy.38 Also, in the treatise Allegoriae in Novum Testamentum, which a scholastic from the school of Saint Victor wrote, we read that anger was one of the three sins most offensive to God.39 Secondly, wrath was condemned because it was feared that if it were channelled into revenge against the murderers, as Martin of Braga († ca. 580) put it, that would be tantamount to placing “one vice against another”, that is, we are not supposed to act against a wrongdoer, who is a sinner, by committing another sin.40 Quite the contrary, Christian thinkers advised overcoming the vice of ira or anger by putting the virtue of patience into practice.41 In other

(Santiago de Compostela: Instituto “P. Sarmiento” de Estudios Gallegos-Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1975), p. 288. 37 Jennifer O’Reilly, Studies in the Iconography of the Virtues and Vices in the Middle Ages (New York-London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1988), pp. 40-41. 38 Richard Barton, “Gendering Anger: Ira, Furor, and Discourses of Power and Masculinity in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries”, In the Garden of Evil: The Vices and Culture in the Middle Ages, ed. by Richard Newhauser (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 2005), p. 371. 39 Barton, “Gendering Anger: Ira, Furor, and Discourses of Power and Masculinity in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries”, p. 371. 40 Lester K. Little, “Anger in Monastic Curses”, Anger’s Past. The Social Uses of an Emotion in the Middle Ages, ed. by Barbara H. Rosenwein (Ithaca-London: Cornell University Press, 1998), p. 12. The quote of Martin of Braga’s words is as follows: Ad coercitionem autem errantium, irato castigatore opus non est. Nam cum irae delictum animae sit, non oportet peccantem peccato corrigere. Quod si tantum irascatur sapiens, quantum scelerum iniquitas exigit, non irascendum illi, sed insaniendum est. See: Martinus Bracarensis, De Ira. Patrologia cursus completus. Ser. Latina, ed. by Jacques-Paul Migne (Paris: Garnier Frères, 1958), LXXII, col. 46C (online version, see: Alexandria, VA: Chadwyck-Healey Inc., 1996). 41 Little, “Anger in Monastic Curses”, pp. 14-27.

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words, mourners were to suffer, but quietly, without expressing their sorrow in an angry or violent manner. The Church enacted various laws that forbade this kind of mourning and civil legal compilations included similar dispositions. Among these, we can mention the Castilian corpus Las Siete Partidas, which dates from around 1256. The Partidas distinguish between good and bad mourning. Mourning which is “good” is, therefore, acceptable and consists of praying for the souls of the dead. On the contrary, “bad” mourning entails all the mourning expressions seen so far, like scratching one’s face, shrieking, howling, having fainting fits, tearing one’s hair and clothes, giving funeral speeches or eulogies, and so on.42 Dwelling on this, the statutes in the Basque city of Cestona from 42

Alfonso X, The Wise, Las Siete Partidas del rey don Alfonso el Sabio cotejadas con varios códices antiguos por la Real Academia de la Historia, ed. by Real Academia de la Historia (Madrid: Ediciones Atlas, 1972), Partida I, Title IV: De los siete sacramentos de la Santa Iglesia, Law C: Que pena han segunt santa Eglesia los que facen duelos desaguisados por los muertos, pp. 169-170: Doliéndose los homes de los que mueren por el amor ó por el debdo que con ellos han, ó por otra razon que han derecha de lo facer, habiendo piedat de las sus almas por los pecados que han fecho, ó cobidiciando que les faga Dios merced et les perdone, tales duelos como estos son buenos. Mas los duelos que facen los homes en que se mesan los cabellos, ó se rompen las caras e las desafiguran, ó se fieren de guisa que vengan á lision ó á muerte segunt deximos en la ley ante desta, estos duelos son malos porque se facen con desesperamiento et con crueza. Et por ende tovieron por bien los santos padres que los que desta guisa lo feciesen que non les diesen los clérigos los sacramentos de santa eglesia, nin los cogiesen en ella quando hobiesen á decir las horas fasta que fuesen sanos de las mesaduras, ó de los rascaños, ó de las otras feridas ó males que hobiesen fecho, et feciesen penitencia dello; salvo ende si cayesen en muy grant enfermedat de que se temiesen que moririen, ca en tal lugar como este débenlos acorrer con los sacramentos de Dios porque sean salvos et non se pierdan. Otrosi mandaron por esta razon mesma que quando los clérigos aduxiesen la cruz á la casa onde el muerto estodiese, et oyesen que facian ruido dando voces por el home, ó endechando, que se tornasen con ella et non la metiesen ahi onde tales duelos feciesen: eso mesmo decimos quando toviesen el cuerpo del muerto en la eglesia, que non deben llorar nin dar voces por que estorben de decir las horas, ca en aquella sazon todos deben callar et rogar á Dios por los muertos que les haya merced á las almas. Et esto deben facer mayormiente en quanto dixieren la misa, porque estonce consagran el cuerpo et la sangre de nuestro señor Iesu Cristo: ca tan noble et tan santa cosa es esta, que todo lo al debe ser dexado mientra esto fecieren, asi que non pueda venir por ello destorbo nin embargo al clérigo que lo consagrare; et si alguno porfiare non queriendo dexar de lo facer, débenle echar luego fuera de la eglesia, quier sea clérigo ó lego. Et aun sin esto mandaron que si en levándolo á la eglesia ó á la fuesa lo feciesen, que dexasen los clérigos de

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1483 make a clear distinction between mourning performed with the hands (scratching, pulling hair, tearing clothes) and the mouth (howling, shrieking), which are totally forbidden, and mourning performed with the

soterrarle et de acomendar el alma a Dios deciendo sobre él aquellas oraciones que son establecidas; et esto fasta que callasen. Et defendieron otrosi que quando toviesen los muertos en la eglesia que les non dexasen las caras descobiertas, et esto porque los homes en catándolos non se moviessen á facer duelo por ellos: et aun dieron mas pena, que si alguno besase al muerto ó se echase con él en el lecho, que ayunase ocho dias á pan et á agua, et que le non recibiesen en la eglesia por un mes. (“The mourning is good when men feel sorrow for those who die, either for love or for the duty they have with themselves or for any other reason they have a right to have, and because they have pity of their souls for the sins they have done, while they wish for God to have mercy on them and pardon them, But the grieving in which the men pull their hair, break their faces and disfigure them, injure themselves in such a way that they inflict wounds or even death, as indicated in the previous law, are bad because they are done with desperation and cruelty. For that the holy fathers saw fit that the clergy should not give the holy sacraments to those who behave in this way, and not allow them to enter the Church when they had to pray until they were cured of their hair pulling, the scratches and other injuries they may have done, and had repented for this, with the sole exception that they fall ill so serious that their life were feared for, because in that case resort should be made to the sacraments of God for those affected to be saved and not condemned eternally. The holy fathers also ordered, for this same reason, that when the clergy take the cross to the house where the deceased is, they hear that noise is being made going voices for the defunct, that they return with the cross and do not introduce it where such grieving is done. We say the same when the body of the deceased is in the church, where no weeping nor voices should be given to avoid bothering the prayer of the hours, because in this situation everyone should be quiet and pray to God for the dead so that God has mercy on their souls. So that should be done especially when saying Mass, because then they are consecrated to the body and blood of our lord Jesus Christ, this being such a huge noble and saint thing that everything else has to be left aside while this is done, so that it cannot bother nor embargar the clergy who is consecrating, and is someone bothers by not wanting to stop their great grieving, they have to put out of the church, whether it is clergy or secular people. And still ordered that if taking the defunct to the church or outside, that the clergy should stop burying them or entrusting their souls to God saying over him those prayers that are established, to make them be silent. They also defended that on having the dead in the Church they have to have their faces uncovered, because the men, when they were tested, are not encouraged to grieve for them. And is someone still kisses the dead or lies in the with him they should impose the punishment of fasting on bread and water for eight days, as well as not being received in the Church for a month.”).

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eyes, that is, weeping, which is allowed and even encouraged,43 because,

43

Que non fagan llanto dentro de las iglesias. Otrosy, por quanto por usança mala tiene las mugeres e aun los omes d’esta juridiçion, non mirando al acatamiento que se debe fazer a Dios e a los oficiçios divinos en las iglesias fazen desordenadamente llantos muy aborrecibles, de manera que perturba a los ofiçios dibinales; por ende, ordenamos que ningunas personas, omes ni mugeres ni moças, despues que en la iglesia entraren e de las puertas adentro confinado, padre ni madre ni hermano ni otro pariente nin estranno de qualquier condicion que sea, ni a sus nobenas ni cabos de anno ni en otros vniversarios [sic] algunos ni en ningund tiempo dentro en las puertas de la dicha yglesia non fagan llanto con la boca ni con las manos ni fagan otro bulto deshonesto alguno, salbo si quisiere que llore con sus ojos onestamente e de manera que no se oya ni fagan perturbaçion a los dichos ofiçios divinales, e si se probare con tres mugeres o personas que aya oydo de alguna persona por la boca a manera de llanto palabra o auto deshonesto ayan visto en se batir dentro de la dicha iglesia, qu’el tal y la tal o los tales paguen por cada vegada dozientos maravedis, e que el nuestro alcalde hordinario mismo executo esta pena por si mismo sin dar mandamiento alguno a otro, e la meytad de la pena sea para la iglesia donde ello acaesçiere e la otra mitad para el dicho alcalde, e si la execuçion çesare por cosa alguna nuestro Sennor Dios demande al dicho alcalde que a la sazon acaeciere mal y caramento commo a aquel que cabsa çesar el serbiçio de Dios a cabsa tan aborrecible e […] a nosotros. (“Let them not weep inside the churches. Moreover, given that for the bad custom of the womene and even the men of this jurisdiction, not looking to the reverence they should give to God and the divine services in the churches, weep detestably in disorderly fashion, in a way that disrupts the divine offices. Accordingly, we order that no-one, whether men, women or children, after entering into the church and indoors due to the death of [a] father, mother, brother or other relative, whatever the condition, ands whether it be to celebrate anniversaries, novenas or other commemorations related with the deceased, in no case within the doors of the church shall not lament with the mouth nor with the hands, nor make any dishonest gesture. It is only permitted to weep with the eyes honestly, in such a way that no sounds are heard nor are there any disturbances to the divine services. An the case of proving this, with the testimony of three women or other people who have heard that someone through the mouth has proffered dishonest words or sounds in the form of laments within the church, that the [person] affected pay for each time two hundred maravedies, and that our ordinary mayor execute this punishment with giving other commandments; and that half the punishment be for the church where the vents have taken place, and the other half for said mayor; if for whatever cause this punishment is not applied, that our lord God demand to said mayor, who for that acts badly instead of being in the service of God in a cause so abhorrent to us.”). See: El triunfo de las elites urbanas guipuzcoanas. Nuevos textos para el estudio del gobierno de las villas y de la provincia (1412-1539), ed. by José Ángel Lema, Jon Andoni Fernández, Ernesto García, Miguel Larrañaga, José Antonio Munita and José Ramón Díaz (San

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as Ailred of Rievaulx († 1167) put it, tears are “the signs of perfect prayers, the embassies between God and man: they show the whole feeling of the heart and declare the will of God to the soul”.44 Besides anger, another important element is present in the literary descriptions of mourning scenes. For instance, in the above-mentioned Crónica Troyana, Cassandra is depicted as “furious” when she is mourning her dead brother Paris (Casandra, oyendo los gemidos e lloros de los que gritauan su dolor, començo ha dar muy grandes bozes).45 “Furious” is a term not only related to rage, but also to madness. As a matter of fact, depending of the type of insanity they were suffering from, in the Middle Ages people could be defined as freneticus (‘frantic’), which usually implied some form of delirium, idiota (‘retarded’), someone who was born unable to interact normally with the world, and furiosus (‘maniac’), that is, someone who experienced uncontrolled anger.46 Also, madness could be persistent, transient or periodic.47 As far as mourning is concerned, mourners could become “furious”, but only for brief moments, as if having a transient insanity attack. How was it possible that mourners reached that state of mind? From a medical or physical point of view, madness was at the time believed to be caused by an excess of yellow or black bile that rose up to the brain.48 From a psychological point of view, it was thought that any “extreme

Sebastián: Diputación Foral de Guipúzcoa, 2002), p. 213; Roberto Palacios and Hegoi Urcelay, “El discurso ante la muerte en las ordenanzas municipales del País Vasco y Navarra durante la Baja Edad Media”, El discurso legal ante la muerte durante la Edad Media en el nordeste peninsular, dir. by César González and Iñaki Bazán (Bilbao: Universidad del País Vasco, 2006), pp. 113-114 and 144. 44 Walter Daniel, The Life of Ailred of Rievaulx, ed. and trans. by F. Mauricie (New York: Oxford University Press, 1951), p. 20: lacrime […] indicia sunt oracionis perfecte, lacrime legaciones existunt inter Deum et hominem, lacrime cordis totum produnt affectum, lacrime Dei ad animam voluntatem nunciant. 45 Crónica Troyana, p. 252. 46 Wendy J. Turner, “Silent Testimony: Emotional Displays and Lapses in Memory as Indicators of Mental Instability in Medieval English Investigations”, Madness in Medieval Law and Custom, ed. by Wendy J. Turner (Leiden-Boston: Brill, 2010), p. 83, footnotes 5 and 91. 47 Margaret Trenchard-Smith, “Insanity, Exculpation and Disempowerment in Byzantine Law”, Madness in Medieval Law and Custom, pp. 51-52 48 Judith S. Neaman, Suggestion of the Devil. The Origins of Madness (Garden City: Anchor Books, 1975), pp. 17-19; Kate McGrath, “Royal Madness and the Law: The Role of Anger in Representations of Royal Authority in Eleventh- and Twelfth-Century Anglo-Normal Texts”, Madness in Medieval Law and Custom, p. 126.

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emotion”, as Albertanus of Brescia († ca. 1251) explained in his treatise the Liber consolationis et consilii (1246), could lead to insanity.49 Other thinkers and theologians were more precise and, for instance, Bartholomeus Anglicus († 1271) affirmed that: “[Madness comes] sometime of passions of the soul, as busyness, of great thoughts, of sorrow and of too great study, and dread [and of] anger”.50 Both Roman and Byzantine law, as well as medieval legal compilations, considered that insanity was exculpatory.51 Thus, it was necessary to establish the mental state of those on trial. In order to do that, some tests of their memory were carried out.52 Not coincidentally, many literary sources include references to the lack of memory and loss of sanity suffered by mourners. For instance, in the Crónica Troyana, Priam, Paris’ father, is said to be secluded in his chamber, speechless, like a man who has lost his memory and who does not have any senses (El rrey Priamo no bino al llanto, que ya no podia, IJ estaua en su camara como ombre salido de memoria IJ no podia fablar ni avn parescia que en si ouiese sentido alguno).53 In The Mourning of the Virgin, Mary wakes up from her second faint and looks at Jesus on the Cross. At one point during her ceaseless weeping, she raises her voice to talk to her Son, but Jesus is already dead and cannot answer. The Virgin persists and asks her Son why He is not speaking to her. Suddenly, Mary understands the senselessness of what she 49

Aleksandra Pfau, “Crimes of Passion: Emotion and Madness in French Remission Letters”, Madness in Medieval Law and Custom, pp. 100 and 108. 50 Neaman, Suggestion of the Devil. The Origins of Madness, p. 17; Stephen Harper, Insanity, Individuals, and Society in Late-Medieval English Literature. The Subject of Madness (Lewiston-Queenston-Lampeter: The Edwin Mellon Press, 2003), p. 35. 51 R. Colin, Mental Affliction and Church Law. An Historical Synopsis of Roman and Ecclesiastical Law and a Canonical Commentary (Ottawa: The University of Ottawa Press, 1952), pp. 26-27, 43-46, 64-66 and 101-109. Daniel N. Robinson, Wild Beasts & Idle Humours. The Insanity Defense from Antiquity to the Present (Cambridge-London: Harvard University Press, 1996), p. 9; Claude Gauvard, ‘De grace especial’: Crime, Etat et société en France à la fin du Moyen Âge (Paris: Publications de La Sorbonne, 1991), I, pp. 436-437. Professor Gauvard offers two quotes that summarise this idea. The first one belongs to Philip of Beaumanoir († 1296) and reads as follows: Cum satis furore ipso puniatur. The second one can be found in the Decretum Gratiani (1140-1142): Quod autem ea quae alienata mente fiunt, non sint imputanda. See: Decretum Gratiani (1140-1142), p. 437, footnote 21. 52 Trenchard-Smith, “Insanity, Exculpation and Disempowerment in Byzantine Law”, pp. 43-52. 53 Crónica Troyana, p. 355.

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is doing, because – as she declares – she was out of her wits at the time: yo lazdrava mesquina, de plorar non cesava; reptava al mi Fijo porque non me fablava, yo bien me entendía que sin seso andava.54

Thus, the authors of these literary works give the impression of trying to exonerate the mourners from the crime or sin they are committing in the eyes of the Church, the vice of anger. Berceo, the monk who wrote The Mourning of the Virgin, expounds on this idea even more in his depiction of Mary, who affirms that she is overcome by grief and that those who could sympathise with her, particularly any mother who has lost a child, should not criticise her: El dolor me embarga, no me dexa fablar, qui bien me entendiese non me devié reptar, ca quánt grant en el duelo e quánt grant el pesar, la que tal fijo pierde lo puede bien asmar.55

Nevertheless, these transient attacks of insanity suffered by the Virgin or any other bereaved individual took place quite a few times during the morning ritual, so the Church did not find it credible and qualified the whole process as a performance. Generally speaking, the mourning rite developed around four important moments: the announcement of death or the death agony, the instant of death, the funeral, and the burial. At each of these moments, there were peak and off-peak phases, that is, periods of frantic mourning and periods when this activity stopped because of a fainting or because of some religious services (as we have seen in the Hechos del Condestable). The peak and off-peak phases could be repeated as many times as desired or needed, but it is worth noting that a crescendo could be appreciated in the whole ritual, as the mourning became progressively more and more intense until reaching its highest point during the burial.56 54

(“I cried in a petty manner, I never ceased mourning;/ I recalled my son, so I did not speak,/ I well understand that I was mindless.”). Berceo, El duelo de la Virgen, p. 839, stanza 136bcd. 55 (“The pain overwhelms me and does not let me speak,/ who well understood me should not grieve for me,/ for great is the mourning and great is the sorrow,/ when a child is lost, as can well be understood.”). Berceo, El duelo de la Virgen, p. 841, stanza 146. 56 For more information about the different phases in the morning ritual, see: Ernesto de Martino, Morte e pianto rituale nel mondo antico. Dal lamento funebre

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In The Mourning of the Virgin, this notion of crescendo is very clear, as everybody resumes mourning in a more extreme way than ever after having taken down the corpse of Jesus, shrouded and perfumed it. Then, Joseph of Arimathea punches himself in the head and everybody cries desperately, but Mary stands out among all the people. She reiterates that she is rabid with anger and that this is the reason she is mourning “immoderately”. The Virgin runs and jumps, weeps and rends her garments: Fiziemos muy grant duelo los que í estidiemos, refrescamos el planto quanto mejor podiemos, non era maravella si grant duelo fiziemos ca mal muesso tragamos e fuert baso bebiemos. Todos plañién afirmes, cada uno ploraua, mas la que lo pariera mesura no tomava; yo, mesquina, con todos, corría e saltava, ca la rabia del fijo las telas me tajaba.57

These collective mourning rituals, like the one described in The Mourning of the Virgin and those in other sources presented here, constitute clear examples of communion in sorrow, that is, when the whole community comes together to grieve with the bereaved. In other words, in these situations sympathy, VXQSDTHLD in Ancient Greek, which etymologically means “community of feelings”, was put into practice. From a religious point of view, Berceo’s intention was for people to relate to, and identify themselves with Mary. Theologians and Christian thinkers depict the Virgin as a mother so compassionate that she imitates with her own body the pain her Son is suffering on the Cross in such a way that she ends up feeling her Son’s pain. By imitating and sharing the physical pain Jesus is experiencing in the Passion, Mary becomes

antico al pianto di Maria (Torino: Bollati Boringhieri, 2008), pp. 104-149; Alfonso Maria di Nola, La morte trionfata. Antropologia del lutto (Roma: Newton Compton Editori, 1995), pp. 83-95; Jean-Claude Schmitt, La raison des gestes dans l’Occident médiéval (Paris: Gallimard, 1990), pp. 209-224. 57 (“We mourned greatly, those who were there/ we refreshed our grief as best we could,/ it was no wonder that we lamented greatly/ because of great pain we swallowed and drank from a strong cup./ All firm bewailed, each crying,/ but she who had born him, had not limit of pain/ I, petty with everybody, ran and jumped,/ because for the rage over the lost son, I wrent my clothing.”). Berceo, El duelo de la Virgen, p. 841, stanzas 148-149.

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somehow co-redemptrix of humankind.58 Berceo hoped his audience would imitate the compassion the Virgin felt for her Son after seeing her suffer like any other mother would do witnessing the death of her offspring. Mary fainted, scratched her face, pulled her hair, howled, cried, and even lost her mind. In all of this, the Virgin depicted by Berceo was no different from any other woman, or indeed man, in the Middle Ages. Thus, the poem of The Mourning of the Virgin allows us to see how sorrow was shown in the medieval period and how much it had to do with rage and madness.

58

André Wilmart, Auteurs spirituels et textes dévots du Moyen Âge latin: Études d’Histoire littéraire (Paris: Bloud et Gay, 1932), pp. 505-514; Otto von Simson, “‘Compassio’ and ‘Co-redemptio’ in Roger Van Der Weyden’s ‘Descent from the Cross’”, Art Bulletin, 35 (1953), pp. 9-16; Sticca, The ‘Planctus Mariae’ in the Dramatic Tradition of the Middle Ages, pp. 19-30; Donna Spivey, “Impassioned Mother or Passive Icon: The Virgin’s Role in Late Medieval and Early Modern Passion Sermons”, Renaissance Quarterly, 48/2 (1995), pp. 227-241; Manuele Gragnolati, “From Decay to Splendor. Body and Pain in Bonvesin de la Riva’s ‘Book of the Three Scriptures’”, Last Things Last. Death and the Apocalypse in the Middle Ages, ed. by Caroline Walker and Paul Freedman (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000), pp. 94-97.

JOHN HUNYADI AND THE LATE CRUSADE ANDREI POGĂCIA‫܇‬ BABES-BOLYAI UNIVERSITY CLUJ-NAPOCA

Introduction A few major battles and several small campaigns in a time span of only thirteen years shaped the destiny of the Balkans and Europe forever. One of these was one of the most famous military events ever, the Fall of Constantinople in 1453. Another is a battle that also became a myth, and is wrongly considered “The Last Crusade” – the battle of Varna in 1444. The other events closely linked to these two remain obscure, and are only fleetingly studied as an appendix when speaking of the other two. Without any doubt, the fall of Constantinople in 1453 was a major event, one that placed the Ottoman Empire among the most powerful states in Europe (and the world), and a milestone in history. The Roman Empire of the East, reduced for a very long time to its capital, Constantinople, and two other territories in Asia and Greece, was finally brought to its end by an ambitious young sultan, Mehmed the Conqueror.1 The battle of Varna2 in 1444 earned its popularity not by any glorious deeds or remarkable achievements, as it was a crushing defeat for the Christians. Its mythological aura was given by the unnecessary death of the official commander of the Crusader army, the Hungarian King of Polish descent, Vladislav III.3 Although his death was not at all heroic, and was actually brought about by his own lack of experience, it helped build 1

Sultan of the Ottoman Empire in 1444-1446 and 1451-1481. For the campaign and battle of Varna and auxiliary events, see: Colin Imber, The Crusade of Varna 1443-45 (Aldershot and Burlington: Ashgate, 2006) a collection of sources; Martin Chasin, “The Crusade of Varna”, The Crusades. Impact of the Crusades on Europe, ed. by Kenneth Setton, Harry W. Hazard and Norman P. Zacour (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1989), VI, pp. 276-311; Andrei Pogăcia‫܈‬, “The Battle of Varna 1444. How to lose a Victory”, Medieval Warfare, 2/2 (2010). 3 Vladislav III, born 1424, King of Poland from 1434, and King of Hungary from 1440. 2

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the mythology around the subject. The other events were maybe less spectacular, but of no less importance for the relations between Christians and Muslims in Eastern Europe.

1. Prelude to “The Late Crusade” Ever since the Ottomans had begun the conquest of the Balkans and the push towards Central Europe, war and violence had been the only reality in this part of the continent. The conquest of Gallipoli and then Adrianople had established the Ottoman Turks in Europe. From these newly-acquired bases, they began expanding to the north and west into the Balkan Peninsula. Almost the whole area was quickly brought under submission, the most famous conquests being perhaps the victory over Bulgaria, and the well-known battle of Kosovo in 1389 when Serbia was subdued. Raids over the Danube into Wallachia followed, as well as clashes with Hungary.4 By the middle of the 15th century, the attention of the world was on Constantinople, now a sad and lonely city, an island of former imperial and Christian glory in a sea of Islamic rule. It was obvious for many that the Turks would not stop until they had conquered the City. Alone as it was, Constantinople stood no chance against the might of the Ottoman armies. A few events, such as the battle of Ankara, in 1402, had lifted the Ottoman pressure on the city, but only for a while.5 Help was badly needed from outside, from Western Europe. Only one impediment stood in the way of real military help that would save the city from destruction: the orthodox religion of its inhabitants, clergy and Emperor. The Great Schism of 1054 by the Byzantines had alienated Western Catholic Europe from the problems of the East. The Crusades, initially started to liberate the Holy Places from Muslim occupation, had also shown how great the level of distrust between the two sides was. The fourth Crusade in 1204 conquered and sacked Constantinople, this perhaps representing the point of no return in building a true relationship between the two sides. However, by the middle of the 15th century, it had become clear that help had to be provided, and the Byzantines asked for it. The condition imposed by the West was to reunite the Churches. In 1439, at the Council 4

For the description of the period, see: Halil Inalcik, “The Ottoman Turks and the Crusades, 1329-1451”, The Crusades. Impact of the Crusades on Europe, VI, pp. 222-276 and 311. 5 For the battle of Ankara and its effects, see: M. M. Alexandrescu-Dersca, La campagne de Timur en Anatolie (1402) (London: Variorum Reprints, 1977).

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of Florence, a reluctant Byzantine delegation agreed to the Union, although the people and authorities of Constantinople strongly disagreed. Officially, the Union had been proclaimed, so the West had to provide military help.

2. The Events The Pope called for a Crusade. As many Western knights and rulers of Western Europe were emphasising their deep faith and will to wage holy war, there would, theoretically, be no problem to gather a large army in order to defeat the Ottomans in the Balkans and throw them back into Asia, as everyone bragged. In reality, France and England were fighting each other, Spain was busy fighting the Moors in the Iberian Peninsula, the Italian states fought each other and the German states had other problems, thus only the Eastern countries remained on the frontline against the Turks. Poland, although involved in the struggle against the Teutonic Order or Tartars, was directly interested in keeping the Turks at bay and would send troops. The two Romanian principalities, Moldavia and Wallachia, could provide limited help, but were unreliable, and had their own goals. Also, they too were Orthodox, and a huge Western army approaching their territories might have been regarded as being more dangerous than the Turks, who only wanted some loot and the annual tribute. The only state to actually combat the Turks was the Hungarian Kingdom. It had the longest border with the Ottoman Empire and was the most directly threatened. Luckily, it held a good chain of fortifications in the south, and especially Belgrade, which could resist an Ottoman invasion, although raids could simply bypass them. To the south lay Serbia, the loyal Ottoman subject. The idea of a Crusade was meant to inspire and gather as many as possible, in remembrance of the Crusades in the Holy Land. Still, it did not generate much fervor. Firstly, as mentioned before, Western countries had other objectives, and could only provide limited support. Secondly, the Crusades had actually been won by the Muslims. All the human and financial efforts had brought nothing but defeat, and a mythical common memory of fighting against the infidels. The Crescent was now ruling where thousands of Christians had died in vain in the name of the Cross. The memory of the crushing defeat of the Crusade at Nicopolis in 1396 was still alive in the minds of many.6 6

David Nicolle, Nicopolis 1396 (Oxford: Osprey Publishing, 2009); Stephen Turnbull, The Ottoman Empire 1326-1699, (Oxford: Osprey Publishing, 2003).

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Thus, Hungary stood virtually alone in the path of the Ottomans. The Kingdom, after emerging from a brutal civil war, could now ensure its defence, but could it mount an effective offensive in the Balkans? Its leader was now John Hunyadi, a determined and battle-hardened warlord of Wallachian origin. He was born around 1385 (or 1400, according to some sources), the son of a nobleman also of Wallachian origin, Voicu, who entered the service of the Hungarian King. His mother, Erzsebet Morzsinay, was from a Transylvanian noble family. Some say he was actually the bastard son of Sigismund of Luxemburg, King of Hungary and Emperor of Germany. Voicu received the castle and domain of Hunedoara in 1409 for his services to the Crown, hence the family name Hunyadi. Young John grew up at the Court and participated in military campaigns and negotiations. He was soon renowned for his abilities as a wise military commander and a fierce warrior. For his services he began receiving properties, a seat on the Royal Council, and ranks in the administration – governor of Transylvania, captain of Belgrade (1441), Captain General (1444-1446) and then Governor of Hungary (1446-1453). He was a fierce anti-Ottoman fighter, although unable to defeat the Crescent in its own territory. The defence of Hungary and Transylvania was always successful, however. In 1443, he began the Long Campaign, south of the Danube, where he defeated all the armies sent by the Sultan both in advance and during the retreat, captured Nis, conquered Sofia and vanquished the Sultan himself at Snajm. Two grave defeats follow in his career – Varna in 1444 and Kosovo in 1448. His last effort, the defence of Belgrade in 1456, culminated in a great Christian victory, although he paid for this with his own life due to a wound or because of the plague. He is regarded today as a national hero in both Romania and Hungary.7 An Ottoman army besieged Belgrade in 1440, but soon withdrew. The Hungarians managed to defeat the Turks in the following years at Sibiu/Hermannstadt in Transylvania and in Wallachia, both in 1442. John Hunyadi then organised his Long Campaign, in the winter of 1443-1444. The Ottomans were defeated in a series of battles, but the campaign showed that no army could cross the mountain passes. As had happened to the Byzantines centuries before, the passes in the Balkan Mountains could easily be closed by the defenders. The attacker had either to bring huge numbers of troops and allow himself to lose very many, or to go round the mountains. Also, winter proved to be a fiercer enemy than the Turks. 7

For the biography of John Hunyadi, see: Camil Mure‫܈‬an, John Hunyadi: Defender of Christendom (Ia‫܈‬i-Oxford and Portland: The Center for Romanian Studies, 2001).

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As the Ottomans offered good peace terms, in the summer of 1444, Hungary pretended to agree, but secretly prepared for what would become the ill-fated campaign of Varna. It was the first attempt to outflank the Balkans and reach Constantinople as fast as possible. An alliance was forged. Among the Crusaders sworn to fight the Ottomans there was also the Muslim state of Karaman, maybe the most active enemy of the sultans, in Anatolia. As planned, the ruler of Karaman attacked the Turks in the summer of 1444, but was quickly defeated. The Ottoman army could now rest and concentrate on what was happening in the European half of the Empire. While a Christian fleet blockaded the Straits and prevented the Ottoman army from crossing into Rumelia, a land army had to cross the Danube, cut its way through what is now northern Bulgaria, and get to Varna. From here, the same fleet from the Straits had to take the crusaders to Constantinople. The Ottomans would be defeated and thrown out of Europe for good. The Christian army was led by “the cursed King and John the damned”, as Turkish historian Orudj presents them. It was made up of Hungarian royal and noble units, Polish knights of the Royal Guard, Hungarian troops, Transylvanian troops and units from Croatia and Bosnia under the command of Croatian Ban Franko of Talovac/Thalloczy, various Western cavalry and Eastern European mercenaries in Hungarian service. From Nicopolis, Transylvanian infantry and 4,000 Wallachian cavalry joined the army. As can be seen from the list, perhaps 90% of the “Crusaders” were actually the regular Hungarian army. The Serbs were again loyal to their Ottoman masters. The Christian fleet failed to properly guard the Straits for various reasons, and the Ottomans crossed into Europe. They were also helped by the Genoese from Pera. The Byzantines, officially allies of the Hungarians, did not send them information about the movements of the Ottoman army. The meeting at Varna between the Christians and Turks was a total surprise for the former. The battle was eventually lost, with a dead king whose body was never recovered, Cardinal Cesarini also missing, and almost the whole army massacred in the fight and during the retreat. The next year, a campaign on the Danube only managed to take the island fortress of Giurgiu. It was too soon to try an invasion similar to the two previous campaigns. Another attempt to break the Ottomans was made in 1448. This time, Hunyadi forged an alliance with Albanian warlord Skanderbeg and, again, Wallachia. German knights were also expected to join the army. Hunyadi was actually leading his personal army, heavy infantry from Transylvania, Bohemia and other Central and Eastern European countries. There was

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also heavy cavalry involved. The Wallachians were providing the light cavalry, so necessary against the Turkish cavalry. The Serbs were once again loyal to the Ottomans, at least in part because of personal conflicts between Brankovic and Hunyadi. The Serbian army made sure that the Albanians did not reach the battlefield of Kosovo, while the Ottomans were crushing Hunyadi’s army. Again, another attempt to outflank the Balkans ended in disaster. If he had won, Hunyadi could have easily marched to Adrianople and could perhaps have gained more victories. It is impossible to know. Five years later, Constantinople was besieged and conquered by the Ottomans. During the siege, a Hungarian delegation visited the Ottoman camp. It carried a message for the sultan. He should abandon the siege or a massive Christian army would come to fight him.8 There was news about the Hungarian army closing in on the Danube. Yet, Sultan Mehmed did not believe the Christian illusions. The experiences of recent years and campaigns had shown that the Christians could not mount a successful land offensive on Ottoman territory. He was determined to take Constantinople, he had the means, the troops, the cannons and the will, and he succeeded. As the Byzantine chronicler Dukas wrote, a little help for the Ottomans came from the Hungarian delegation. While in the Ottoman camp, perhaps after delivering the useless threat, Hunyadi’s emissary showed the Ottoman artillery how to shoot in order to make the wall collapse. Allegedly, there was a prophecy in the Balkans, saying that once Constantinople fell to the infidels, all troubles for the Christian world would end. Legend or not, the fall of Constantinople would also suit Hungary in the hope that, finally, the Ottomans would stop in the Balkans. The “Late Crusade” had been waged precisely to save Constantinople. Thousands of men and much material had been lost, huge amounts of money spent for nothing. Hunyadi could now concentrate on defence, without being forced by the Pope, Venice or other Western countries to fight in the Balkans. If this was his hope, it did not materialise. In 1456, a huge Ottoman army was heading for the key of the Southern defence of the Hungarian Kingdom: Belgrade, the mighty fortress on the Danube, commanded by Hunyadi’s brother-in-law, Michael Szilagy. Hunyadi had known since 1455 that the Turks were preparing a campaign. He just could not know where they would attack. When it all became clear, it was too late to seek 8

Dan Ioan Mure‫܈‬an, “Le royaume de Hongrie et la prise de Constantinople. Croisade et union ecclesiastique en 1453”, John Hunyadi and his Time (ClujNapoca: Editura Academiei Române, 2009), p. 479.

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help. By 1456, he was a lonely warlord, with only a few loyal nobles at his side. The help he had asked for from Hungarian magnates and foreign countries failed to materialise. The luck for Christian Europe, in the hot summer of 1456, came in the form of Giovanni da Capistrano, an Italian monk who had much success in preaching the Crusade within central Europe. Hunyadi managed to summon around 20,000 soldiers, his own troops, the units of his loyal nobles, and mercenaries. The garrison in Belgrade numbered around 5,000 soldiers, and the population of the town. Capistrano showed up with around 20,000 peasants, poorly equipped, with no fighting experience and discipline, but eager to fight for the Cross, and hoping for rich spoils of war. If the most representative event were to bear the name “The Last Crusade”, it would in fact not be Varna, but rather Belgrade. It was the only battle where the spirit of the original crusades was revived and applied to the greater good of the Christian world. It was the peasant crusaders who actually triggered the positive outcome of the battle. After a night of gruesome combat, the armies were resting. The peasants, maybe while trying to loot the camp of the Ottoman sipahis, started the fight, which eventually led to the Christian victory. Hunyadi paid for the victory that saved Europe that summer with his own life. Because of a wound, or perhaps due to the plague, he died in August, in the camp at Zemun, near Belgrade. Capistrano died in November the same year. The battle of Belgrade was the last episode of the so-called “Late Crusade”.

Conclusions What actually was the “Late Crusade”? Why did it not succeed? What were the causes of the Christian defeat? We could argue that the events that form the so-called “Late Crusade” were nothing more than an active defence of the Hungarian Kingdom in Ottoman territory, with foreign help. It is debatable if anyone in Europe really believed that the Turks could be beaten and thrown back into Asia. With huge human resources and a warrior’s mentality, the Turks could resist a Christian assault for a long time. They had to be defeated many times in a row, their armies crushed or their leaders killed, in order to ensure victory. That could not happen easily. 1. As seen in the cases presented, it was difficult to gather a huge European army to march into the Balkans. Such an army had to be

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2.

3.

4. 5.

6.

7.

8.

composed of light and heavy cavalry, infantry, a huge baggage train, artillery, siege machines, Danube fleet, sea fleet. Various factors, including finances, made that quite impossible. An overall commander had to be appointed, who had to be respected and obeyed, preferably one from an Eastern European country (Hungary or Wallachia for example), who knew well how to fight the Ottomans. As happened at Nicopolis in 1396 and Varna in 1444, it was the proud knights of Western countries who lost the battles. Obviously, the task of appointing a sole commander would have been virtually impossible. Allies had to be found in the Balkans, such as the Serbs and the Albanians. Personal conflicts needed to be left aside if good coordination was to be made possible. Ottoman fortifications and castles, many and well-built and garrisoned, had to be conquered and secured. A generally amiable relationship with the local population had to be maintained by all; this proved rather difficult, since the Orthodox peasants frequently had to endure looting, rape and burning. If the passes in the Balkans were blocked, the army had to fight its way either to the Black Sea, or towards Albania. Finding supplies for a large army and maintaining discipline on such a long journey would generate many problems. The fleet securing the Straits would have to prevent any Ottoman reinforcements from Asia crossing into Europe. A large powerful fleet would be needed, requiring plentiful supplies. In the unlikely event that the Ottomans were finally defeated, after many years of conflict, what would happen to the liberated territories? It is awkward to believe that independent states such as Bulgaria, Serbia and the Byzantine Empire would simply be restored and given to be governed by their rightful rulers. Conflicts between the victors would undoubtedly have appeared in any case.

It is clear that all strategic and logistic elements worked against a successful crusade in the 15th century. The efforts to defeat the Ottomans centred on the personality of the great John Hunyadi, who almost singlehandedly managed to keep the Ottoman Empire at bay. The romantic idea of holy crusaders stood no chance against the conditions imposed by reality. Thus, it is no wonder that Ottoman power in the Balkans survived until the 19th century, when the new crusaders finally managed to break free from the shadow of the Crescent.

WAR AND PEACE BETWEEN THE CROWN OF CASTILE AND GRANADA: DUALITY OR INTERCONNECTEDNESS? YUGA KURODA WASEDA UNIVERSITY

1. “Reconquista” in the Later Middle Ages The words of Ferdinand III concerning his total control over al-Andalus addressed, shortly before his death, to his son and successor Alfonso X the Learned are well known to us. His words teach us that all of the territory of al-Andalus was dominated, and that one part was directly conquered while the other was made up of the tributary states. 1 Theoretically it was so, since not only the taifa kingdoms of Granada and Murcia were then vassals of Ferdinand III, but also the other petty kings, such as Jerez and Niebla, were his tributaries. It seemed then that no further territorial expansion would be needed. However it was not so, or at least Alfonso X did not think so. Thus, the Mudejar revolt took place in 1264 because of certain discrepancies between the conditions, sometimes very favourable, given to the Muslim subjects, and Alfonso X’s expansionist desire to strengthen the defence system of the recently conquered territory.2 After the Mudejar revolt, aided by the king of Granada and his Bannj MarƯn allies between 1275 and 1285, the landscape of this frontier changed dramatically. The regions of Andalusia and Murcia became a 1

Primera Crónica General de España que mandó componer Alfonso el Sabio y se continuaba bajo Sancho IV en 1289, ed. by Ramon Menéndez Pidal (Madrid: Bailly-Bailliére e hijos, 1906), pp. 772-773. 2 Concerning the conquest of 13th century, it is fundamental to refer to: Julio González, “Las conquistas de Fernando III en Andalucía”, Hispania, 25 (1946), pp. 515-631. On Alsonso X’s policy towards his Muslim subjects, see: Manuel González, Alfonso X el Sabio (Barcelona: Ariel, 2004). Also, from another point of view: Cristóbal Torres, El antiguo reino nazarí de Granada, 1232-1340 (Granada: Anel, 1974), pp. 151-159.

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quintessential frontier, characterised by militarism, insecurity, lack of human resources and, at the same time, the ease of social promotion for Christian settlers involved in frontier defence. Meanwhile, it opened up a new international situation, which involved not only the Crown of Castile, the Nasrid kingdom and the Marinids, but also the Crown of Aragon and the Republic of Genoa, which were interested in expanding the network of their business interests. During this international struggle, known as the battle of the Straight (1275-1350), there were more shifting and complicated diplomatic relationships than participants could have expected in principle.3 After the victory of Salado (1340), followed by the conquest of Algeciras (1344) and the death of Alfonso XI while besieging Gibraltar (1350), the kingdom of Castile underwent a brutal civil war, which to some extent can be considered an episode of the Hundred Years War, with the intervention of British troops (in favour of Peter I) and French troops (in favour of Henry of Trastamara). A few years after this civil war concluded, the Castilian-Granadan frontier entered a period of relative calm, aided by successive renewals of the truce signed at the beginning of the reign of Henry II. In this period (between 1350 and 1406), which we call the paz insólita (“unusual peace”) some frontier incidents occurred in the context of Castilian civil war. This situation would be maintained, aside from intermittent military episodes, during the 15th century, until the start of the Guerra de Granada (1482-1492), helped in part by domestic

3

About the battle of the Straight there are a large number of studies. For example, see: Miguel Ángel Ladero, “La guerra del Estrecho”, XXXI Semana de Estudios Medievales: Guerra y diplomacia en la Europa occidental 1280-1480 (Estella, 19-23 de julio 2004), ed. by Miguel Ángel Ladero et alii (Pamplona: Institución Príncipe de Viana, 2005), pp. 255-293; Francisco García, “Los acontecimientos político-militares de la frontera en el último cuarto del siglo XIII”, Revista de Historia Militar, 64 (1988), pp. 9-71; Francisco García, “La frontera castellano-granadina a fines del siglo XIII”, Actas del IV Coloquio de Historia Medieval Andaluza: relaciones exteriores del Reino de Granada, ed. by Cristina Segura (Almería: Instituto de Estudios Almerienses, 1988), pp. 23-35. Concerning the Marinid intervention in the Iberian Peninsula, see the fundamental work: María Jesús Viguera, “La intervención de los benimerines en Al-Andalus”, Relaciones de la Península Ibérica con el Magreb. Siglos XIII-XVI, ed. by Mercedes García and María Jesús Viguera (Madrid: Instituto Hispano-Árabe de Cultura, 1988), pp. 237-247; Miguel Ángel Manzano, La intervención de los benimerines en la Península Ibérica (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1992).

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political instability in both Castile and Granada.4 In summary, we can say that after 1350, the frontier line did not move much, nor were there great battles, like those of Zalaca, Alarcos and Las Navas in the High Middle Ages. So it is logical that until recently, little attention has been paid to the relationship at the border within the framework of the progress of the Reconquista. In other words, this period has been interpreted as two faces of the same coin: one is the internal Castilian weakness, and the other, the stagnation of Spanish territorial expansion against al-Andalus.

2. War and Peace in the Castilian-Granadan relationships - its duality and interconnection 2. 1. Duality of War and Peace Despite the sporadic clashes and frontier violence, it was always essential to create and maintain a framework for negotiations between Castile and Granada, although they were still religious enemies. This was due, among other reasons, to the limited ability of human and financial resources to make “total war”. We have always needed, since ancient times, 4

On the reign of Alfonso XI and the frontier circumstances, see, primarily: Manuel García, Andalucía: guerra y frontera - 1312-1350 (Seville: Fondo de Cultura Andaluza, 1990). About the relationships between Peter I and Muhammad V of Granada: Clara Estow, “War and peace in medieval Iberia: Castilian-Granadan relations in the mid-fourteenth century”, The Hundred Years War. A Wider Focus, ed. by L. J. Andrew Villalon and Donald J. Kagay (Leiden: Brill, 2005), pp. 151-175. On the situation of Castilian-Granadan relations in the second half of the 14th century, the expression paz insólita (unusual peace) comes from Ladero in his monumental study: Miguel Ángel Ladero, Granada. Historia de un país islámico (1232-1571) (Madrid: Gredos, 1989). Moreover, see the same author: Miguel Ángel Ladero, “Algunas consideraciones sobre Granada en el siglo XIV”, Anuario de Estudios Medievales, 7 (1970-1971), pp. 279-284; Luís Suárez, “Política internacional de Enrique II”, Hispania, 16 (1956), pp. 16-129; Emilio Mitre, “De la toma de Algeciras a la campaña de Antequera (un capítulo de los contactos diplomáticos y militares entre Castilla y Granada)”, Hispania, 32 (1972), pp. 77-122. About the 15th century, there are many studies on specific themes, including two monumental studies in English: José Enrique Lopéz, “Institutions on the Castilian-Granadan frontier, 1369-1482”, Medieval Frontier Societies, ed. by Robert Bartlett and Angus MacKay (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), pp. 127-150; Ana Echevarría, The Fortress of Faith: the Attitude towards Muslims in Fifteenth Century Spain (Leiden: Brill, 1999), pp. 7-27.

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the mutual agreement of the suspension of war through peace or truce agreements, as Prof. Ladero Quesada states, toda la historia de la humanidad es un afán por dominar la violencia, encauzarla hacia fines constructivos, limitarla y controlarla.5 We could say that the history of war and peace on the Castilian-Granadan frontier was successive interspersed periods of official war and peace or truce. In the political-military relationships between the Crown of Castile and the Nasrid kingdom of Granada over the course of nearly 250 years, we know that the times of official truce were predominant according to the pioneering research of Angus Mackay and the recently published work by José Rodríguez Molina. The calculation by the latter is that 80 or 90 percent of those 250 years could be considered periods of official truce, while the remaining 20 or so percent officially consisted of war.6 On the other hand, many historians are emphasising the other face of the relationships as historical reality; the war and daily violence on the frontier. According to Charles E. Dufourcq: un tel traité n’était qu’une suspension des hostilités; ce n’était pas du tout un traité de paix dans le sens que nous donnons maintenant en language courant à cette expression. Un tel traité, en somme, ne mettait pas fin à une guerre; en général, il était le résultat, la concrétisation d’une entente de fait; des relations amicales prévalaient malgré la guerre.7

The peace or truce was merely a provisional interruption of the official war, so there was always the possibility that the peace would be broken and, above all, there was small-scale raiding and retaliation as a natural response. This small-scale military activity along the border line was 5

“All human history is an eagerness to control violence, channel it towards constructive purposes, to limit and control it” (Miguel Ángel Ladero, Guerra y paz: teoría y práctica en Europa occidental. 1280-1480 [Pamplona: Gobierno de Navarra-Departamento de Cultura y Turismo, 2005], p. 27). 6 Angus MacKay, “The Ballad and the Frontier in Late Mediaeval Spain”, Bulletin of Hispanic Studies, 53 (1976), pp. 15-33; José Rodríguez, La vida de moros y cristianos en la frontera (Alcalá la Real: Alcalá Grupo Editorial, 2007). 7 “such a treaty (was a suspension of hostilities; it was not a peace treaty at all in the sense that we nowadays give to this term). Such a treaty, in short, did not stop a war; in general, it was the result, the embodiment of a common agreement; friendly relations prevailing despite the war” (Charles E. Dufourcq, “Chrétiens et musulmans durant les derniers siècles du Moyen Âge”, Anuario de Estudios Medievales, 10 [1980], pp. 207-225, especially, p. 209).

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normal. Thus, if l'état de guerre était l'ordre des choses normal (“the state of war was the normal order of things”), the late medieval Castilian-Granadan peace was an ephemeral truce, for a certain duration of time, always strictly determined. We also know from recent research by regional historians of both Andalusia and Murcia, that the frontier contained the duality of war and peace, that is, pervasive violence and mutual understanding across the religious boundary. The concept of such duality on the frontier has also been reflected in academic opinion. While Manuel González Jiménez and Manuel Rojas Gabriel emphasise the daily frontier violence in spite of existence of the treaty of truce, José Rodríguez Molina insists on the frontier convivencia.8 That said, the purpose of this chapter is to analyse the diplomatic relationships between the two kingdoms, questioning the duality in itself of war and peace. As Prof. Juan de Mata Carriazo wrote in his day, la paz y la guerra no eran esas cosas rotundas de siempre y de todas partes. Ni la paz era paz, ni la guerra era guerra, en el pleno sentido de cada concepto.9 So, the aim of this analysis will be to look for the historical meanings of the war and peace in the Later Middle Ages of the Iberian Peninsula. Though it is unnecessary to deny its duality, the political-military and diplomatic relationships between the two powers will be re-examined, focusing on the official warfare as well as the treaty of truce. From this survey, we will find that the Crown of Castile always wanted to subdue Granada, with or without force of arms, while the Nasrid kings of Granada intended to survive in power, maintaining the status quo and wanting to prevent the use of arms and payment of substantial tribute amounts, or the 8

Los Milagros romanzados de Santo Domingo de Silos de Pedro Marín, ed. by Manuel González and Ángel Luís Molina (Murcia: Real Academia de Alfonso el Sabio, 2008), p. 14; Manuel Rojas, “La frontera castellano-granadina. Entre el tópico historiográfico y las nuevas perspectivas de análisis”, I Encuentro de Historia Medieval de Andalucía (Seville: Universidad de Sevilla, 1999), pp. 97-106; Manuel Rojas, La frontera entre los reinos de Sevilla y Granada en el siglo XV (1390-1481) (Cádiz: Universidad de Cádiz, 1995), see especially pp. 153-269; Rodríguez, La vida de moros y cristianos, pp. 418-419. 9 “peace and war were not always those outright things everywhere. Nor was peace, peace or was war, war in the full sense of each concept” (Juan de Mata Carriazo, “Un alcalde entre los cristianos y los moros en la frontera de Granada”, En la frontera de Granada. Edición facsímil [Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2002], pp. 85-142, especially p. 139).

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famous parias. In this chapter, the inseparability of war and peace is highlighted, with a detailed analysis of the official treaty of truce. We see that the Crown of Castile continued to exert a number of policies against Granada that were much more coherent than we may have considered.

2. 2. The War between Castile and Granada Don Juan Manuel said about the classification of the war against Muslims in his Libro de los Estados: Otrosí, cuando los cristianos entraren en tierra de moros, la entrada que fizieren á de ser por una de cuatro maneras: cuando [entraren] en cavalgada, por tomar algo, como almogávares; o entraren manifiestamente por talar et quebrantar la tierra; o entrar[en] por cercar algún lugar; o entraren [por] buscar lid.10

Military elites in the Middle Ages knew that open battle would not be the ultimate goal of war, nor would it produce the conclusive result, but would be a form of war that should be avoided if possible.11 Thanks to the successful outcome of the New Military History, introduced by Francisco García Fitz in his doctoral thesis, we know that the war against Granada in the Late Middle Ages was similar to that in the High Middle Ages12. According to Manuel Rojas Gabriel, la actividad militar en la Edad Media era una cuestión bastante más compleja de lo que han apreciado aquellos que no han hecho otra cosa que reducirla al ruido y a la confusión de los choques de guerreros en campo raso13- and criticising the old trend of 10

“Moreover, when Christians go into Moorish lands, the entry they do has to be in one of four ways: when [they enter] in cavalcade, to take something, like Almogavars; or enter manifestly to cut and break the land or enter [in] to seek somewhere; or enter [to] look for battle” (Don Juan Manuel, “El libro de los estados”, Obras completas. Don Juan Manuel, ed. by Carlos Alvar and Sarah Finci [Madrid: Fundación José Antonio de Castro, 2007], Primera parte, Capítulo LXXVIII, pp. 582-583). 11 Don Juan Manuel, “El libro de los estados”, p. 566. 12 Francisco García Fitz, Castilla y León frente al Islam. Estrategias de expansión y tácticas militares (siglos XI-XIII) (Seville: Universidad de Sevilla, 1998). 13 “military activity in the Middle Ages was a much more complex issue than has been appreciated by those who have done nothing but reduce it to the noise and confusion of the clash of warriors in the open field” (Manuel Rojas, “Estrategia y guerra de posición en la Edad Media. El concepto de la frontera occidental de Granada [c.1275- c.1481]”, V Estudios de Frontera, ed. by Francisco Toro and José

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Military History., Prof. García Fitz begins to recognise the limitation of medieval military force, and to argue the strategic combination of the war of position (la guerra de expugnación) and the war of attrition (la guerra de desgaste). The war of attrition would be more effective on the Castilian-Granadan frontier.14 The first reason for this is that during the Middle Ages the position of defenders in the walled town or fortified castle had more merit than the attackers. Even in the Later Middle Ages, when they began to use various other firearms, this situation did not change dramatically. Therefore, like the open battle, the Castilian kings planned a siege with great care. In fact, the siege of fortified positions, led directly by Castilian kings, was scarce, and the results were not always successful. The second reason is that, in comparison with a siege, a war of attrition is cheaper and more effective. Seizing booty was exciting for warriors participating in the expeditions, and furthermore, since the frontier was a heavily feudalised society, the waged war (guerra guerreada) against the infidels gave military leaders, in this case the feudal lords, prestige and justification for their economic-social domination as bellatores. However, such repetition of guerra guerreada, in the long run, caused the overt symptoms of economic exhaustion of the adversary, his psychological weakness and even internal political disagreements between peoples.15 The Castilian strategy was planned, in most cases deliberately, in order to achieve the same ultimate goal – the domination of the Nasrid kingdom Rodríguez [Jaén: Diputación Provincial de Jaén, 2004], pp. 665-692 [my citation is p. 679]). 14 See: Francisco García Fitz, Relaciones políticas y guerra. La experiencia castellano-leonesa frente al Islam. Siglos XI-XIII (Seville: Universidad de Sevilla, 2002). 15 About sieges in Late Medieval warfare, see: Rojas, “Estrategia y guerra de posición en la Edad Media. El concepto de la frontera occidental de Granada [c.1275- c.1481]”; Manuel Rojas, “Nuevas técnicas ¿viejas ideas? Revolución Militar, pirobalística y operaciones de expugnación castral castellanas en las guerras contra Granada (c.1325-c.1410)”, Meridies, 4 (1997), pp. 31-56. Concerning the attritional raiding campaign and its impact on Castilian society, apart from the pioneering works by Elena Lourie and James F. Powers, see also that of: Manuel Rojas and Elena Lourie, “A Society Organized for War: Medieval Spain”, Past and Present, 35 (1966), pp. 54-76; James F. Powers, A Society Organized for War: the Iberian Municipal Militias in the Central Middle Ages 1000-1284 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988); Manuel Rojas, “El valor bélico de la cabalgada en la frontera de Granada (c.1350-c.1481)”, Anuario de Estudios Medievales, 31/1 (2001), pp. 295-328.

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– by the following means; (1) “bleeding” diplomacy like the famous paria regime, (2) the ideology of war and crusading propaganda, (3) interference in the internal politics of Granada, (4) a low-intensity war of attrition on the frontier, and (5) large direct campaigns under the command of the monarch in order to take control of some important fortified positions. On the military tactics of Castile, Manuel Rojas Gabriel says correctly that ambos bandos sabían a la perfección que el nudo de la cuestión consistía en quién de los dos era capaz de resistir durante un mayor plazo de tiempo una guerra de posición y desgaste, organizando campañas destinadas a procurar desyuntar determinados territorios castrales del adversario.16 In short, the ultimate goal of the war against Granada was similar to the negotiations about the treaty of truce. With its clauses, the Crown of Castile sought to erode the Granadan economy. So, peace in this sense was not an opposite phenomenon to war, but a mere continuation of the war, as we shall see later with the testimony of historical documents.

2. 3. The treaty of truce as a negotiation between two religious enemies As is commonly known, not only Christianity but also the Islamic world prohibited contracting a perpetual peace with the infidels. Also well known is Islam’s dualistic world view, that is, dƗr al-IslƗm (house of peace) and dƗr al-Harb (house of war). However, in reality it seems to work somewhat differently, because the truce agreements were allowed using the world category of dƗr al-‘Ahd (house of pact), as Islam ceased to expand its territory, requiring the reaching of compromises with the Latin and Byzantine Christians. So, there are many examples of the treaty of truce, meaning the temporary cessation of open confrontation or mutual invasion between both worlds.17 16

“both sides knew perfectly well that the crux of the issue was which of the two was able to hold out for longer in a war of position and attrition, organizing campaigns to ensure the seizing of certain castral territories from the adversary” (Rojas, “Estrategia y guerra de posición en la Edad Media. El concepto de la frontera occidental de Granada [c.1275- c.1481]”, p. 678). 17 Robert I. Burns and Paul E. Chevedden, Negotiating Cultures: Bilingual Surrender Treaties in Muslim-Crusader Spain under James the Conqueror (Leiden: Brill, 1999), pp. 195-212. For a more theoretical study of Islamic relations with Christian neighbours through treaties, see: Ann K. S. Lambton, State and Government in Medieval Islam (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981), pp.

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The following are the three main features of the treaty of truce between Christianity and Islam. Firstly, as mentioned above, such a treaty of peace between Christianity and Islam was not a guarantee of perpetual peace. In the words of Charles E. Dufourcq, it was suspension des hostilités (suspension of hostilities), and it was described as mera guerra mitigada (mere mitigated war) by Manuel García Fernández, with Roser Salicrú saying it was simples rupturas de la continuidad bélica (simple breaks in continuity). These authors considered the treaty of peace as merely a pause in the war, that is, the normal situation was always war. In fact, looking at the documents of the treaties of truce between the Crown of Castile and the Nasrid Kingdom of Granada, they almost always contain the start and finish dates of the truce with a fixed duration. This automatically meant that the state of war would start if it expired, or one party died, that is, either the king of Castile or the sultan of Granada, without waiting for the truce to expire. Nevertheless, it was normal that the state of peace with another duration would be restored, sending ambassadors from one side to the other and with the subsequent negotiation to renew the former treaty.18 Secondly, some negotiation between the two powers was needed essentially in order to establish or renew the treaty. Both kingdoms, which belonged to different civilisations and were, at least theoretically, irreconcilable enemies, tried to reconcile demands from each other to determine the clauses of the treaty. The result of such negotiation could reflect directly the political and military balance of power between the two kingdoms.19 In particular, the ultimate goal of the Crown of Castile was, after all, to complete the Reconquista, that is, the disappearance of al-Andalus. Therefore, the Castilian kings maintained their aim of

201-218. 18 Dufourcq, “Chrétiens et musulmans durant les derniers siècles du Moyen Âge”, pp. 209-210; García, Andalucía: guerra y frontera 1312-1350, p. 197; Roser Salicrú, “El sultanto nazarí en el occidente cristiano bajomedieval: una aproximación a través de las relaciones político-diplomáticas”, Historia de Andalucía: VII Coloquio ¿Qué es Andalucía? Una revisión histórica desde el Medievalismo, ed. by Antonio Malpica et alii (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2010), pp. 63-80, especially p. 67. 19 Since the political-military balance between the Christian kingdoms and al-Andalus was always reflected in their diplomatic relations, the regime of parias appeared at the moment of both the fragmentation of al-Andalus and Christian supremacy in the 11th century. See: José María Lacarra, Colonización, parias, repoblación y otros estudios (Saragosse: Anubar, 1981).

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subjugating Granada, taking into account both the interior and exterior political situations of their kingdom, the damages and expenses in case of the war against Granada, and the merits if the truce was concluded, and vice versa. The demands clashed heavily in the scene of negotiation regarding the duration of truce, commercial relationships, the vassalage of the Nasrid kings, and, in particular, the amounts of the famous parias. Also, the treaty of truce determined the territorial boundary between the two kingdoms, which the Crónica de Juan II tells us at in the 1410 treaty of truce: E el Infante avía mandado pregonar en Seuilla que ninguno no feziese daño ni entrase en la tierra de los moros en tanto que se tratasen las treguas, desde seis días de nouienbre adelante, porque así era ordenado e tratado entrel mensajero moro e el Infante. E los moros, antes que viniesen los seis días, tornaron a Xebar e tomáronla por pleitesía. E desque la ouieron tomado, aportillaron lo que della podrieron aportillar, e dexáronlo. E esto fizieron por arte, porque fecha la tregua quedasen con el término de Xeuar; por quanto tiene buen término. E desque fueron idos, vn día antes que viniesen los seis días del mes de nouienbre, fue Rodrigo de Narbáes allá, entendiendo que los moros lo fizieran por el término, e tomó a Xeuar, porque antes que fuesen los seis días de nouienbre lo touiese en su posesión. E fízolo luego muy bien adouar, e puso ende çien vallesteros, e çient lanças, e çiento de cauallo; e enbiólo dezir al Infante a Seuilla. Al Infante plogo mucho del bien avisamiento de Rodrigo de Narbáez; así que quedó Xeuar por de los cristianos, e sus términos.20 20

“And the Prince had ordered it to be trumpeted in Seville that nobody should damage nor enter in the land of the Moors there being a truce, for six days of November onwards, because it was arranged and agreed between the Moorish messenger and the Prince. And the Moors, before the six days had come, returned to Xebar took it as a tribute. And after they had taken it, they broke down everything they could break, and they left it. And this they did with hability, because on the date of the truce they kept the term of the Xeuar place, because it’s a good land. And after they had gone, one day before the six days of November arrived, Rodrigo de Narbáes went there, understanding that the Moors went by the term, and took Xeuar, because before the sixth of November they took it in his possession. And he then had it well repaired, and thus put in it a hundred crossbowmen, and a hundred lances, and a hundred horse; and sent to tell the Prince in Seville. The prince was mightily pleased by the good news from Rodrigo de Narbáez; thus Xeurr was kept for the Christians, and its limits” (Crónica de Juan II de Castilla por Alvar García de Santa María, ed. by Juan de Mata Carriazo

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As shown, the negotiations over the treaty were conducted both with the desire to end the war, and with the ambition of territorial expansion. Although the truce was settled, this did not immediately guarantee friendly relations and calmness. Therefore, the truce did not always collide with the state of war. Thirdly, the negotiations took place using two different languages (Arabic and medieval Castilian), between two different cultures (the Hispanic Christian and the Andalusian) and two different civilizations (Latin Christendom and the Islamic world). In order to carry out such negotiations, it was necessary to send an emissary or “ambassador” who could speak both languages and understand both customs. In this field, the Late Medieval Hispanic world was ideal, because it was the Castilian-Granadan frontier where the “hyblids” lived. Not only the feudal lords of Andalusia and Murcia, who typically sported standard frontier titles (alcalde mayor entre moros y cristianos, alfaqueque mayor, adelantado mayor de la Frontera, etc.), but also the councils of the cities on the frontier played an important role as mediators in negotiating the treaty. Especially after the Trastamara dynasty was established in the second half of the 14th century, the Andalusian and Murcian ricos omes (los Fernández de Córdoba, los Guzmán, los Ponce de León and los Fajardo) started to play a prominent role in concluding the truces.21 In summary, the “friendly” relationships between Castile and Granada were normalised after having resolved the problems mentioned above, and such relationships, which apparently looked static and very stable, were actually fragile and full of dynamism.

[Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 1982], p. 401). 21 On the preliminary study of the emissary between different cultures in the Mediterranean world, see: Roser Salicrú, “Más allá de la mediación de la palabra: negociación con los infieles y mediación cultural en la Baja Edad Media”, Negociar en la Edad Media, ed. by Maria Teresa Ferrer et alii (Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 2005), pp. 409-439; Roser Salicrú, “La diplomacia y las embajadas como expresión de los contactos interculturales entre cristianos y musulmanes en el mediterráneo occidental durante la Baja Edad Media”, Estudios de Historia de España, 9 (2007), pp. 77-106. About the frontier ricos omes, apart from Miguel Ángel Ladero, Andalucía en el siglo XV. Estudios de historia política (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1973). See: Juan Torres, “Los Fajardo en los siglos XIV y XV”, Miscelanea Medieval Murciana, 4 (1978), pp. 107-178.

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3. Negotiations over the treaty of truce 3. 1. Global tendency The negotiations concerning the treaty of truce, especially the specific clauses of the treaty, would begin with the offer by one party to the other stating his desire for peace. Once their demands had been agreed, bilingual draft contracts would be drawn up in Castilian and Arabic. After confirmation from each side, more than two bilingual treaty documents would be written, which the kings or their representatives would sign. Prof. Manuel García Fernández has analysed the truce agreements from the reign of Alfonso XI, concluding that, la tregua fue siempre una institución fronteriza tremendamente monótoma, que repitió desde el siglo XIII idénticas cláusulas, protocolos y obligaciones genéricas. However, it is also true that important special clauses appeared later and could be modified according to the given historical situation, as the same investigator states.22 It is true that the contents or clauses of the Castilian-Granadan treaties remained nearly identical over 250 years, with only some small variations. The first and most fundamental clause was about the duration of the cessation of war, or truce. With this clause, both sides prohibited raiding each other, specifying in detail the start and finish dates, which, at the same time, could determine the territorial limits of each kingdom. The second clause, which was always a point of serious dispute, was the act of vassalage by the Nasrid kings. At least theoretically from the pact of Jaén in 1246, the kings of Granada were considered vassals from the Castilian point of view. Thus, the Nasrid kings were forced not only to participate in the Cortes, but also to send expeditionary forces to help their “feudal master” if necessary. In fact, a series of the vassalage obligations appear, at least in the treaties of the first half of the 14th century.23 22 “the truce was always a tremendously monotonous border institution, that from the 13th century repeated identical clauses, protocols and generic obligations” (García, Andalucía: guerra y frontera 1312-1350, p. 197). 23 About the pact of Jaén and the Castilian view the on vassalage of the Nasrid kings, see: Alejandro García, “Consideraciones sobre el pacto de Jaén”, Sevilla 1248: Congreso Internacional Conmemorativo del 750 Aniversario de la Conquista de la Ciudad de Sevilla por Fernando III, ed. by Manuel González Jiménez (Madrid: Editorial Centro de Estudios Ramón Areces, 2000), pp. 715-724; José Enrique López de Coca, “El reino de Granada. ¿un vasallo musulmán?”, Fundamentos medievales de los particularismos hispánicos (Ávila: Fundación de

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The third was the clause concerning the payment of the tribute, or parias. Since the treaty of 1410 there was an obliged redemption of a certain number of Christian captives, instead of payment of parias in cash. The fourth was on trade relationships. The trade was not totally free and it was normal to stipulate the cosas vedadas (“banned things”), that is, the trade of goods otherwise prohibited between Castile and Granada. During the 15th century, the overland trade was only allowed in some official puertos secos. For example, regarding overland trade, the treaty of April 15th 1460, with a one-year truce, indicates syn acreçentamiento de pecho demas de ques acostunbrado en las pazes, salvo cavallos e armas e pan e de lo que afirmamos con vos e lo afirmades vos con nos.24 The fifth clause concerned the regulation of the rescue of the captives and movements of the alfaqueques. The sixth involved the norms for resolving cross-border incidents, judged by the omes buenos and retrospectively called alcalde entre moros y cristianos with the help of some fieles de rastro. The seventh was mutual oaths by the kings or their representatives, in which God was the supreme judge between them. And finally, there was the habitual expression about the manner of drafting formal treaty documents; escrevir en dos cartas por un tenor e de una entynçion cada una dellas en castellano e en aravigo, in an example of the treaty in 1460.25 After signing these documents, each king retained a bilingual copy of the document until the termination of the truce. Such clauses themselves tell us of the interconnectedness between war and peace. Firstly, the costly payment of parias, which was like an annual tax, provoked the erosion of the Granadan economy in the long run, regardless of the desire for peace by the Nasrid kings. As the resource of tributes paid to Castile was collected from Granadan subjects as an illegal tax, it would be undeniable that the faqƯh and Granadan people would have criticised their king, and that this unstable situation in Granada became a just cause for dethroning him. As Prof. Francisco García Fitz has analysed categorically, as in the High Middle Ages, the demand for parias to al-Andalus was a kind of Castilian diplomacy, by which the Castilian Sánchez Albornoz, 2005), pp. 313-346. 24 “without increasing taxes (pecho) more than used in the paces, excepting horses, arms, bread and what is signed for us with you and what is signed for you with us” (Documentos de Enrique IV de Castilla (1454-1474): Fuentes Históricas Jerezanas, ed. by Juan Abellán [Seville: Agrija, 2010], pp. 184-187, doc nº 95). 25 “write in two letters with a precise intention each of them in Castilian and in Arabic” (Documentos de Enrique IV de Castilla (1454-1474): Fuentes Históricas Jerezanas, pp. 184-187 [doc. nº 95]).

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kings tried to provoke internal unrest, undermining Granadan unity, and, ultimately, leaving the territory open to an easy conquest.26 On the other hand, the leaders of al-Andalus knew perfectly the ultimate goal of Castile, as the last Zirid king in the 11th century, ‘Abd AllƗh stated.27 Therefore, they attempted to reduce or, if possible, gain exemption from the payment of the parias when negotiating truces. Also, in a letter from Granada sent to the Marinid sultan Abnj ‘InƗn FƗris (reign: 1348-1358), Muhammad V says that nos movimos a aceptar la paz para dar tranquilidad a las comarcas y fortaleza al gobierno; mas con el día viene la mañana y todo tiene su límite, y nosotros tenemos en Vos, después de Dios, un firme apoyo.28 Apparently, Peter I of Castile and Muhammad V of Granada were friends, and relations between the two kingdoms were considered stable, but the reality was that one side was waiting for an opportunity to intervene in Granadan territory and the other side wanted to be free from the Castilian yoke. That situation can be thought of as a veritable “Cold War”.29 Secondly, there is the question of whether or not there could be free trade between both parties. The so-called cosas vedadas almost always consisted of weapons, horses and cereal. The weapons and horses were certainly usable for war, while wheat and the barley were indispensable for supplying troops, so exporting these from Castilian territory to Granada was strictly prohibited. As is well known, Granada was densely populated and so it was impossible for Granada to sustain itself with its own agricultural production, and therefore it was necessary to import cereals from overseas, that is, from the Maghreb or other places in North Africa. The clause about the restriction on free trade could reflect preparations to resume war against Granada, and another attempt to slowly weaken the 26

García, Relaciones políticas y guerra. La experiencia castellano-leonesa frente al Islam. Siglos XI-XIII, pp. 11-16. 27 The TibyƗn: memoirs of ‘Abd AllƗh b. BuluggƯn, last ZƯrid amƯr of Granada, trans. by Amin T. Tibi (Leiden: Brill, 1986), p. 113. 28 “we moved to accept the peace to give reassurance to the counties and strength to the government; but the day comes with the morning and everything has its limits, and we have in you, after God, strong support” (Mariano Gaspar, “Correspondencia diplomática entre Granada y Fez (siglo XIV)”, Revista del Centro de Estudios Históricos de Granada y su Reino, 1/4 [1914], pp. 285-365, especially, p. 292). 29 Luís García, “El concepto de guerra y la denominada ‘guerra fría’”, La guerra moderna y la organización internacional (Madrid: Instituto de Estudios Políticos, 1962), pp. 91-136.

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Granadan economy.30 The discrepancies and subsequent negotiations between the two claims in the Castilian-Granadan “Cold War” naturally led to the changes or modifications of the treaty’s clauses that were considered stable and consolidated. What we need to analyse is each position at the time of settling their discrepancy. For example, let us compare three treaties from the first half of the 14th century; the treaty of 1310, when Ferdinand IV of Castile besieged Algeciras, contained the terms of the obligation of vassalage, payment of 11,000 gold coins per year, while trade remained totally free; that of 1331, when Alfonso XI conquered Teba after the battle against reinforcements from Granada, included the obligation of vassalage, payment of 15,000 gold coins, and prohibited the export of horses and weapons; while the third, the treaty of Fez from 1334 involved Castile, Granada and Bannj MarƯn, when Castile lost Gibraltar after it had been attacked by the joint forces of Bannj MarƯn and Granada. Alfonso XI, viendo que non podia escusar de aver tregua con los moros por algund tienpo porque el pudiese asosegar sus rreynos (“seeing that they cannot excuse not having a truce with the Moors for some time because it could calm his kingdoms”) , decided to establish a truce in which Ynjsuf I of Granada was exempted from payment of the parias. It is clear that the negotiations varied not only on the amount of the parias to be paid, but also the act of vassalage and limitations on trade, depending on the balance of power between Castile and Granada. Also, even the duration of truce was a variable factor. We can imagine that the negotiation of the treaty also meant a very intense diplomatic struggle between two antagonistic postures.31

30

On commercial relations between Castile and Granada, see a recent study: José Enrique López de Coca, “La frontera de Granada (siglos XIII-XV): el comercio con los infieles”, Cristianos y musulmanes en la Península Ibérica: la guerra, la frontera y la convivencia (Ávila: Fundación de Sánchez Albornoz, 2009), pp. 367-392. 31 For the treaty of 1310, see: Andrés Giménez, La Corona de Aragón y Granada: historia de las relaciones entre ambos reinos (Barcelona: La Casa Provincial de Caridad, 1908), pp. 167-169. On that of 1331, Juan Torres, “El Tratado de Tarazona y la campaña aragonesa en el reino de Granada (1328-1331)”, La frontera murciano-granadina (Murcia: Real Academia de Alfonso el Sabio, 2003), pp. 67-93 (Apéndice, pp. 87-93). And about 1334, although there are no documents, see: Gran crónica de Alfonso XI, 2 vols., ed. by Diego Catalán (Madrid: Editorial Gredos, 1977), II, cap. CLI, pp. 78-79.

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3. 2. Chronological tendency Looking at all the known treaties with their clauses, we can see dynamic trends. It is true that the periods of truce were very predominant during the 250 years of diplomatic relations between Castile and Granada, however, this requires some comment and clarification.32 At first glance, the duration of the truce has many variations. It varies from the provisional cessation of the war for only a few months, such as ‘entre tanto que la dicha tregua et paz se tracta entre mi et el’ (“Meanwhile said truce and peace is agreed between me and him”) as stated in the letter of February 4th 1331, to a 10-year truce in the treaty of 1344 after the conquest of Algeciras, where both parties were exhausted by the siege of that city. 33 Such variations indicate the existence of negotiations between Castile and Granada in settling the treaty. The most interesting is the tendency concerning the vassalage of the Nasrid kings. While the treaty documents contain specific clauses on vassalage explaining the participation of the Castilian Cortes and the obligation of military aid from Granada to Castile during the reign of Ferdinand IV and Alfonso XI, after Peter I, such obligations disappeared. Even given the lack of historical evidence that we can use, we can say that there was a turning point of some kind in the middle of the 14th century. Unlike the provision of vassalage, however, the Nasrid kings continued to pay the parias. It seems that 12,000 gold coins per year was normal, but this amount varied between 5,000 and 15,000, perhaps due to the results of negotiations before its stipulation. In fact, as far as is evident, only the payment of 5,000 gold in the treaty of 1378 appears during the second half of the 14th century.34 From the beginning of the 15th century, not only did payment of the parias become almost constant, but also the redemption of Christian captives held in Granada was added. This clause obliged the Nasrid kings to return a large number of Christian captives, buying or seizing them from Granadans, who held them in order to exchange them for their relatives held on Christian territory. Therefore, like the payment 32

We can identify almost all the treaties, using a reference done by: Rodríguez, La vida de moros y cristianos, pp. 345-416. 33 Transcription of the internet version: On the treaty of 1344, see: Ángel Canellas, “Aragón y la empresa del Estrecho en el siglo XIV. Nuevos documentos del Archivo Municipal de Zaragoza”, Estudios de Edad Media de la Corona de Aragón, 2 (1946), pp. 7-73. 34 Suárez, “Política internacional de Enrique II”, pp. 117-118 (doc. app. nº 12).

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of the parias, the forced redemption of captives would have caused great dissatisfaction with Nasrid politics among their subjects, and, in the long run, helped incite the Granadan civil war. It seems that the “ambassadors” sent to the Granadan capital collected the parias and a set number of Christian captives. For example, in the case of two treaties of truce in 1439 and 1443, apart from the formal treaty document, they drew up una carta de papel colorado escripta de letra morisca (“a letter on coloured paper written in Moorish script”) which listed the obligations to be fulfilled by the Nasrid king, adding the cartas albalaes de conocimiento with which both parties confirmed the current state of payments and devolutions.35 Regarding the other clauses, like those on free trade, the ones concerning captives and alfaqueques and about frontier incidents, both sides began to share these demands from the treaty of 1310 on. There was little change until the late 15th century. The trade clause in most treaties contained the regulation of the cosas vedadas mentioned above, which slowly led to a weakening of the Granadan economy. That said, after seeing the global trend from a juxtaposition of all the truce treaties that we know about, some fluctuations are clearly outlined. Such diversification of the treaties of truce again reflects the constant instability of the political-military relations between Castile and Granada. This instability would become more evident in comparison with the treaties of truce between the Crown of Aragon and Granada and even further when compared with the commercial treaties between the Genoese Republic and Granada. The Crown of Aragon and Genoa, who had no land borders with the Nasrid kingdom, settled on more stable, longer lasting agreements of peace, because their interests were, after all, to ensure trade relations with Granada. These agreements lacked the forced payment of tributes and unilateral return of captives; several times they instead envisaged mutual military aid against Castile. In short, diplomatic relations with infidels were very different according to each one’s 35

About 1439, we can consult the 19th century edition on the negotiation of the treaty by: José Amador de los Ríos, Memoria histórico-crítica sobre las treguas celebradas entre los reyes de Castilla y Granada (Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 1879), pp. 140-149 (docs. nº LXXXII-LXXXIII). See also: José Ángel Marín and Manuel Marcos Aldón, “La embajada de Diego Fernández de Zurita al sultán Muhammad IX de Granada”, Al-Andalus Magreb: Estudios árabes e islámicos, 5 (1997), pp. 61-74 (pp.69-70, doc. nº 1). About 1443, José Enrique López de Coca, “Acerca de las relaciones diplomáticas castellano-granadinas en la primera mitad del siglo XV”, Revista del Centro de Estudios Históricos de Granada y su Reino, 12 (1998), pp. 11-32 (doc. nº 1-2, pp. 24-32).

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geopolitical situation.36

3. 3. The connection between official war and truce As has been stated already, the duration of the official war between Castile and Granada was very short, and the war itself occurred intermittently during their 250 years of coexistence. Except for the final war of Granadaa (1482-1492), the major periods of war were; (1) the period of the intervention by the Bannj MarƯn and the Castilian counter-attack (1275-c.1300); (2) the Battle of the Straight led by Alfonso XI and that ended with the victory at Salado and the conquest of Algeciras (c.1327-1344); (3) the campaign led by the regent Ferdinand de Antequera (1407-1410); (4) the war against Granada led by the constable Alvaro de Luna (1430s); and (5) the campaign commanded by Henry IV of Castile (1455-1458). Among the five periods of official war mentioned above, except for the military intervention by the Bannj MarƯn, the reasons for the war against Granada with Castilian initiative almost always involved the intervention in disputes between the Nasrid kings and their subjects. Alfonso XI of Castile stated his desire to resume the official war against Granada in a letter to the council of Murcia: Vi vuestra carta que me enbiastes en que me faziades saber que ouierades nueuas de Granada, que Vzmen que cuydara entrar en el Alhanbra et alçarse con ella et con Granada contra el rey, et que se le non guisara asy commo el quisiera... que agora abia logar para acabar contra ellos todo lo que quisiese en seruigio de Dios et mío.37

36 In order to research the treaties of truce between Aragon and Granada, the following publication of Arabic documents remains indispensable: Los documentos árabes diplomáticos del Archivo de la Corona de Aragón, ed. and trans. by Maximiliano A. Alarcón and Ramón García (Madrid: Estanislao Maestre, 1940). Moreover, Prof. Roser Salicrú is researching currently: Roser Salicrú, “La treva de 1418 amb Granada: la recuperació de la tradició catalanoaragonesa”, Anuario de Estudios Medievales, 27 (1997), pp. 989-1019; Salicrú, “El sultanto nazarí en el occidente cristiano bajomedieval: una aproximación a través de las relaciones político-diplomáticas”. 37 “I saw your letter that you sent me in which you let me know that you had news from Granada, that Vzmen would try to enter in the Alhambra and seize it and with Granada against the king, and that he did not do according he wished, because right now there are was time to finish with them, for the sake of God and mine” (Documentos de Alfonso XI, ed. by Francisco de Asís Veas [Murcia: Real

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On April 9th 1430, while in mass, John II of Castile learned about the confusing situation and the civil war between Muhammad VIII and Muhammad IX from a letter brought by the emissary from Granada. In July of the same year, after settling truces with Navarre and Aragon (the so-called treaty of Majano), John II communicated his negative answer to the Granadan emissary of Muhammad IX, who was perhaps negotiating a renewal of the truce with the Castilian king, while also sending letters to the frontier cities with orders to prepare for war. Although both kingdoms entered a state of war, the underlying aim of this war was to enthrone Ynjsuf ibn al-Mawl, a vassal of the Castilian king, and to lend him military aid.38 Similar motives can be seen in the campaign by Henry IV. After he ascended to the throne, Henry IV had initially wanted to renew the treaty of truce established by his father John II.39 However, he changed his plans and resumed the war against Granada explaining his intention to the Jerez city council on February 22nd 1455. Primeramente que ya saben los debates que son entre el rey don Çag e el rey don Mahomad, e porquel rey don Çag me a escripto çerca de sus fechos que enbia a mi un su fijo e otros cavalleros suyos, e agora es me dicho quel dicho rey don Mahomad viene açercar al dicho rey don Çag, e porque estando el asi en fabla comigo es razonable cosa que yo le mande dar algund favor e ayuda porquel no reçeba en este medio tienpo daño alguno [...].40

Academia de Alfonso el Sabio, 1997], pp. 87-88 [doc. nº LXXV]). 38 Crónica del Halconero de Juan II por Pedro Carrillo de Huete, ed. by Juan de Mata Carriazo (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2006), pp. 57-58 and 70. On the contract of vassalage between John II and Ynjsuf ibn al-Mawl see: Luís Suárez, Juan II y la frontera de Granada (Valladolid: Universidad de Valladolid, 1950), pp. 39-42 (doc. nº 4). 39 Rojas, La frontera entre los reinos de Sevilla y Granada, pp. 389-390 (anexo documental, nº VI). 40 “Firstly they know the debates there are between King Çag and the King Mohamed, and because King Çag has written to me about his success that sent to me his son and others of his knights, and now it is told me that said King Mohamed comes to find said King Çag, and because him being thus speaking with me it is a reasonable thing that I send him some favour and help because he has not been hurt in the meantime” (Documentos de Enrique IV, p. 33 [doc. nº 19]).

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War and Peace between the Crown of Castile and Granada

As is clear, the campaigns were conducted during the civil war between Muhammad X and Abnj Nasr Sa d, in favour of this monarch. Next, we look at the process of ‘official’ war. As mentioned above, Late Medieval warfare progressed like that in the High Middle Ages, as analysed by Francisco García Fitz, which consisted of a repetitive war of attrition by raiding (razzia or cabalgada) and, if possible, by besieging with greater recruited power, relatively small or medium-sized cities which had strategic importance in a given area. However, given the limited human and logistical resources, sieges were not always successful, exceptions being the brilliant conquests of Gibraltar (1309), Algeciras (1344), and Antequera (1410). Even if these were favourable for the Castilian kings, they still had to accept a great loss of human and financial resources.41 If we consider the whole process of war and peace over the 250 years once again, one trend emerges. That is, from the mid-14th century, and after the Trastamara dynasty was consolidated, campaigns planned directly by the Castilian kings became very scarce. By contrast, instigating some truces, Alfonso XI of Castile personally directed the war against Granada between 1327 and 1344, spending most of these years in Andalusia. On the other hand, Ferdinand of Antequera only visited the Andalusian frontier in 1407 and 1410. John II, though, led his army together with Alvaro de Luna in the raiding campaign to the Vega of Granada, and to the Battle of Higueruela of 1431. In the end, Henry IV led campaigns against Granada between 1455 and 1458 without planning any sieges.42 This tendency clearly shows the difference in the political-diplomatic programmes of the two royal dynasties. The five kings of Castile from Alfonso X to Peter I were inclined to consider the Castilian-Granadan frontier as their centre of power, and naturally stayed in Andalusia during 41

For example, on the reign of Alfonso XI and the financial exhaustion caused by repeated campaigns against Granada, see: Nicholas Agrait, “The Reconquest during the Reign of Alfonso XI (1312-1350)”, On the Social Origins of Medieval Institutions. Essays in Honor of Joseph. F. O’Callaghan, ed. by Joseph. F. O’Callaghan et alii (Leiden: Brill, 1998), pp. 149-165. 42 In order to reconstruct the itineraries of the Castilian kings, I have used Documentos de Alfonso XI; Documentos de la minoría de Juan II. La regencia de Don Fernando de Antequera, ed. by Maria Victoria J. Vilaplana (Murcia: Real Academia de Alfonso el Sabio, 1993); Francisco de Paula, El itinerario de la corte de Juan II de Castilla (1418-1454) (Madrid: Silex, 2007); Juan Torres, Itinerario de Enrique IV de Castilla (Murcia: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1953).

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much of their reigns. However, the kings from Henry II of Trastamara stayed inside the northern regions of Castile, focusing on foreign policy with Portugal, Aragon, Navarre and the kingdoms beyond the Pyrenees, and almost forgetting about Castilian-Granadan diplomacy. Interestingly, such a change in Castilian policy coincided with the disappearance of the clauses of vassalage in the treaties of truce. The successive reigns of the Trastamara dynasty also coincided with the “crisis of feudalism”, when the Crown of Castile had to engage in the Hundred Years War and, consequently, in clashes between the Spanish kingdoms and internal struggles between the kings and the nobility. During this confusing situation, the Castilian kings could not intervene personally in the war against Granada. Despite these problems, the Castilian monarchs wanted to undermine the Nasrid kingdom without weapons, that is, indirectly, by the depletion of the Granadan economy through making the conditions of truce as severe as possible and, if it was opportune, trying to enthrone Nasrid “favourites” in Granada. Complying with the clauses in the treaties of truce weakened the economy of the Nasrid kingdom, and provoked indirect subjugation and ongoing instability among the subjects of Granada, which paved the way for a future opportunity for armed intervention in Granada. For example, the Crónica de los hechos del Condestable Don Miguel Lucas has an interesting testimony by Diego de la Guardia, a monk from Jaén, who visited the city of Granada to collect the parias: [...] depués dava fe que tan grande confusión e discordia entre los moros avía e tan quebrantados se syntían de la guerra que este señor les fazía, que todos los comunes, en espeçial los del Alcaçaba e Albaezín, eran de entençión que se diesen al rey, nuestro señor, e biviesen por mudéjares en aquella çibdad e su tierra. E al fin, pensando anpararse de tantos trabajos, deliberaron de tomar por su rey al infante Ismael [...].43

43

“then he attested that there was such great confusion and division among the Moors and they felt so broken by the war that this lord made against them, that all the common people, especially those of the Alcaçaba and Albaezín, wanted to surrender to the king, our lord, and live as Mudejars in that city and its land. And in the end, thinking of appropriating so many works, they deliberated about taking Prince Ismael as their king” (Relación de los hechos del muy magnífico e más virtuoso señor, el señor don Miguel Lucas, muy digno condestable de Castilla, ed. by Juan Cuevas, Juan del Arco, José del Arco [Jaén: Universidad de Jaén, 2001], p. 77).

356

War and Peace between the Crown of Castile and Granada

3. 4. An example of the negotiations for the treaty of truce in 1439 It is evident that the Nasrid kings knew Castilian policy against Granada, that is, a combination of direct official war and “bloody” diplomacy with the ultimate goal of subduing and, finally conquering, al-Andalus. Thus, the negotiations around the treaties of truce also became another scene in the “battle without weapons”. That said, let us proceed to the negotiations for the treaty of 1439, whose documents were published by Amador de los Ríos in the 19th century [see list].44 The first thing to be noted is that the conditions stipulated by Castile at the beginning were very severe. Constable Alvaro de Luna had previously, and in no uncertain terms, told negotiator Iñigo López de Mendoza, that only one year of truce could be allowed with the maximum payment of the parias and the release of as many Christian captives as possible. Iñigo López added the obligation of vassalage, which was a traditional clause in the middle of the 14th century, with the transfer of some important strategic points such as Algeciras, Cambil and Belmez. The king of Granada rejected the Castilian claims that Iñigo López had presented. After several exchanges of letters, the king of Granada, in a compromising attitude, presented Iñigo with his conditions for a truce of five years, with totally free trade, giving reasons for relief from the payment of the parias and the number of captives to be returned. The negotiations continued, and both sides had to make compromises with each other, something which irritated Iñigo López. However, they finally agreed upon a treaty of truce with the following conditions, they were: 3 years of truce, the payment of 8,000 gold coins per year, the release of 550 Christian captives within 3 years, and free trade only in Alcalá la Real, Zahara and Huelma as puertos secos with limitations (cosas vedadas), but with an agreement to sell Granada 7,000 sheep and 1,000 cattle each year. Such a detailed process of negotiations tells us that the Castilian side wanted the shortest truce with the most humiliating and costly impositions, while the claim of the Granadan side was understandably for a more durable truce with free trade and exemption from the parias. The clauses of the treaty were merely a result of the compromise between the demands of both sides. Thus, the negotiation of the treaty of truce also made for a 44

José Amador de los Ríos, Memoria histórico-critica sobre las treguas sobre las tréguas celebradas en 1439 entre los reyes de Castilla y de Granada (Madrid: Academia de la Historia, 1879).

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kind of diplomatic confrontation between the two sets of aims, which was a merely a continuation of the official war.

Conclusion The concept of the duality of war and peace has dominated academic trends in the history of the frontier societies. Some historians believe that the frontera ‘caliente’ (‘hot’ frontier) was a normal state of Castilian-Granadan relations. Others believe that friendly relations or vecindad (neighbourship) were characteristic. It is true that the treaties of truce between Castile and Granada were no guarantee of peace, but merely a suspension des hostilités (“suspension of hostilities”), as Charles E. Dufourcq said. However, it went further than that. Despite the settled truce, the Crown of Castile and its courtiers considered Granada as the object to fight manu militari in the future, if the political situation allowed. The treaty of truce would serve this plan. As is clear from the process of 1439 analysed above, the Crown of Castile wanted the shortest possible truces with the heaviest parias available and restrictions on free trade, through which it intended to erode the Granadan economy. The fact that the period of truce between Castile and Granada was highly predominant was not the result of late medieval Castilian kings’ cowardly attitudes toward the Reconquest, known as the espíritu venal (venal spirit).45 The war of attrition and diplomacy through the treaty of truce still maintained the same purpose, that is, the eventual conquest of al-Andalus. The repeated raiding campaigns caused a sensation of fear among the Granadan people, which would lead to the negotiation of a truce. Through the treaties of truce with burdensome parias and limited trade, the people of Granada were slowly worn down, which finally led to internal unrest in Granada. The civil war in Granada provided the opportunity for direct military intervention, which returned to the starting line in the cyclic policy towards al-Andalus. We know of the intense and permanent internal conflicts in the Nasrid court in the 15th century that prevented us from properly identifying the genealogical tree until recently. This confusing situation in 15th century Granada allows us to imagine the result of an effective programme deliberately planned by the Crown of Castile. We can conclude that the treaty of truce symbolises a number of 45

Eloy Benito, “Granada o Constantinopla”, Hispania, 79 (1960), pp. 267-314 , especially, p. 274.

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War and Peace between the Crown of Castile and Granada

disputes in the Castilian-Granadan “Cold War”. At least, in the relations of war and peace between Castile and Granada at the state level, there was no duality, but nonetheless a close interconnectedness between the two phenomena. In the end, after dealing with diplomatic relationships between Castile and Granada in this short chapter, we expect two future paths for research. One is a comparative study of the treaties of truce or war and peace. Unlike the maritime frontier between the Crown of Aragon and the Nasrid kingdom, where the regulation of commercial movement was highlighted between the two kings, ensuring the safety of both merchants and goods, the Crown of Castile kept the land frontier with Granada until 1492, one which was always full of military and political tensions. As future research, I will express my own views about the proper duality on the frontier. Accepting the pervasiveness of violence in the frontier zone as an undeniable starting point for research, or as cosa natural in the words of Manuel Rojas Gabriel, we cannot deny the existence of signs of coexistence. For example, the purpose of diplomatic relations at both regional and local levels would almost always be to resolve prior conflicts despite the existence of the truce, and not to propose unconditional friendship. The words used in diplomatic letters were often cordial, but had also a threatening tone. For example, the custom of mutual retaliation was partly a sign of violence and, in part, that of convivencia (good relationship) because, knowing full well that starting “total war” would be much more harmful, the people of the frontier wished to maintain some kind of peace through the limited exercise of violence. It was violence, but at the same time, it was a way to control the vicious circle of violence, benefiting the whole population living on the frontier. In short, limited tolerance and limited violence were a part of frontier life. In any case, when we analyse the duality on the Castilian-Granadan frontier, we must take into account the Castilian policy of territorialidad (territoriality) expressed by Prof. Salicrú i Lluch as a fundamental premise.46

46

Salicrú, “El sultanto nazarí en el occidente cristiano bajomedieval: una aproximación a través de las relaciones político-diplomáticas”, pp. 66-71.

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NEGOTIATION OF THE TREATY OF TRUCE (1438-1439) Date

Direction

Contents

AH842-05-25 (c.1438-11-13)

Gr.>Ca.

1438-11-24

Ca.>Neg.

1438-11-26

Ca.>Neg.

Nasrid king proposed the truce (He did not say concrete duration nor clauses) Juan II empowers Iñigo López de Mendoza to negociate truce Constable Alvaro de Luna orders Iñigo to propose 1 year truce with as oppressive parias as possible and with as numerous return of Christian captives as possible Castilians claims: 1. vassalage of the Nasrid king with participation in Cortes and with military aid 2. to restore of damage caused during the war 3. to transfer of Algeciras, Cambil and Belmez 4. to redeem and hand over all the Christian captives in Granada 5. payment of 20000 gold coins per year Iñigo is waiting for the answer of Granada, but he thinks that the duration of 1 year of truce would be too short

Neg.>Gr.

1439-01-02

Neg.>Ca.

Claim

Ca (1)

War and Peace between the Crown of Castile and Granada

360

1439-01-15

Ca.>Neg.

c. 1439-01-18

Gr.>Neg.

1439-01-28

Neg.>Gr.

1439-02-11

Ca.>Neg.

1439-02-12

Ca.>Neg.

1439-[02]-24

Ca.>Neg.

AH843(sic.)-09-10

Gr.>Neg.

?

Neg.>Gr.

1439-03-02

Neg.>Ca.

Iñigo has been ordered that 2 years truce should be stipulated if 1 year is impossible Nasrid king refuses the Castilian claims definitely saying his reasons Iñigo refuses the aforementioned reasons of Granada Iñigo has been authorized to negociate truce and its clauses, with his will Iñigo has been suggested to settle 1 year truce or 2 years with the rescue of Alfonso de Stúñiga Iñigo has been ordered to settle 1 year or 2 years, but if impossible, less than 3 years The Nasrid king once more refuses the Castilian claims saying that these are too heavy Castilian claims: 1. 1 year of truce 2. payment of 12000 gold coins per year 3. to redeem 600 captives, but selected by Castilla Iñigo confesses a difficult situation in the negotiations, saying that it is impossible to stipulate 1 year, and also that it will be possible to select only 100 captives

Gr.(1)

Ca (2)

Gr.(2)

Ca.(3)

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?

Gr.>Neg.

?

Neg.>Gr.

?

Neg>Emb

1439-03-24

Ca.>Neg.

1439-04-10

Neg.>Ca.

Granada claims: 1. 5 years of truce 2. to redeem less than 600 captives 3. payment of 5000 gold coins per year 4. free trade without limitation Castilian claims: 1. 2 years of truce 2. free trade, but with limitation (stock, oil, etc.) 3. Alfonso de Stúñiga should be added among redeeming captives Iñigo has ordered two options to his emissaries 1: 1 year of truce/ 8000 gold coins to pay/ to redeem Alfonso de Stúñiga and the others 2: 2 years of truce/ 8000 gold coins to pay/ to redeem 300 captives (selected 30 by Castilla)/ free trade Order that the future truce should be as short as possible with parias as burdensome as possible The negotiation has been terminated Accepted clauses: 1. 3 years of truce 2. Free trade with limitation (cosas vedadas) in Alcalá la Real, Zahara and Huelma as puertos secos

361

Gr.(3)

Ca.(4)

362

War and Peace between the Crown of Castile and Granada

1439-04-11

Neg.

1439-04-18

Neg.>Ca.

But 7000 sheeps and 1000 cattles per year can be sold 3. to redeem 550 Christian captives 4. payment of 8000 gold coins per year In the city of Jaén preparing draft of treaty Notice of validation of treaty

* Ca.: Castilian courts Gr.: Granadan courts Emb.: emissary of Iñigo in Granada.

Neg.: Iñigo López de Mendoza

LES ENJEUX DU LIBRO VERDE DE ARAGÓN1 MONIQUE COMBESCURE UNIVERSITÉ TOULOUSE – JEAN JAURÈS

Introduction De tout temps, l’être humain a aimé connaître l’identité de ses ancêtres et en dresser la liste sous des formes variées : généalogies orales, épitaphes, diagrammes avec médaillons, représentations graphiques, écrits généalogiques divers. Dans l’Antiquité romaine, les familles illustres conservaient déjà les masques mortuaires et les bustes de leurs ascendants et disposaient d’une représentation graphique de leur généalogie : sur un mur de l’atrium ou du vestibule, les noms et visages de leurs ancêtres étaient reliés par un ruban pour signifier leur filiation. La Bible elle-même offre divers lignages dont deux sont ceux du Christ. L’édit de 643 du roi Rothari exigeait des Lombards qu’ils soient capables de réciter la liste de leurs aïeux jusqu’à leur septième degré de parenté. Depuis le IXe siècle, plusieurs conciles avaient conclu à l’interdiction du mariage entre des personnes présentant un lien de parenté atteignant le septième degré de consanguinité. Une telle exigence entraîna logiquement la constitution d’études généalogiques. Mais c’est surtout à l’époque féodale que se développa le genre généalogique et sa diffusion au sein de l’aristocratie fut importante, car ainsi était légitimé l’héritage de nombreux biens. Par la suite, l’invention de l’imprimerie provoqua une très grande diffusion des œuvres généalogiques.2 Le Libro Verde de Aragón, objet de notre étude, échappa à ce phénomène mais, bien que n’ayant pas été imprimé jusqu’en 1885, il se diffusa rapidement dans la société aragonaise

1

Abréviations utilisées : AHN, Archivo Histórico Nacional ; BC, Biblioteca Colombina ; BNE, Biblioteca Nacional de España. 2 Germain Butaud et Valérie Pietri, Les enjeux de la généalogie (XIIe-XVIIIe siècle). Pouvoir et identité (Paris : Editions Autrement, 2006), pp. 7-46.

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Les enjeux du Libro Verde de Aragón

des XVIe et XVIIe siècles.3 Pourquoi ? Et qu’est exactement ce Libro Verde ?

1. Les enjeux évidents du Libro Verde Le Libro Verde de Aragón est un ensemble de généalogies descendantes aragonaises qui présentent toutes la spécificité de commencer par un Juif ou un couple de Juifs convertis au christianisme au temps de Saint Vincent Ferrier (vers 1400). Il faut préciser qu’à cette époque-là beaucoup de Juifs optèrent pour le baptême : dans toute l’Espagne, les massacres de 1391 poussèrent une grande partie d’entre eux à changer de religion. Mais plus précisément en Aragon, la Dispute de Tortosa (1413-1414), au cours de laquelle furent défendus les mérites des deux religions – chrétienne et juive –, constitua un triomphe pour la première, ce qui provoqua la conversion de la majorité des rabbins et la disparition de nombreuses de communautés juives.4 Ce sont donc des familles très particulières qui composent le Libro Verde de Aragón. L’auteur, Juan de Anchías, assesseur de l’Inquisition sans activité, explique dans l’introduction de son œuvre qu’il rédigea son recueil en 1507 pour informer ses contemporains de l’origine conversa de nombreux personnages importants de la société et cela pour éviter que les Aragonais de sang pur – sans mélange de Juifs et de Maures – n’épousent, sans le savoir, des personnes au sang « impur ». Il ne s’agit donc pas ici de généalogies classiques, qui sont d’habitude laudatives, flattant les aïeux et, par conséquent, leurs héritiers, leur attribuant parfois des exploits surhumains et imaginaires, mais de généalogies infamantes. Dans cette catégorie de littérature qui est exceptionnelle nous trouvons, en plus du Libro Verde, son « cousin » le Tizón de la Nobleza de España qui présente les mêmes motivations que lui mais qui concerne toute l’Espagne. On peut y ajouter également une Historia de los Incas rédigée en 1572 par le capitaine espagnol Pedro

3

Rodrigo Amador de los Ríos, « El Libro Verde de Aragón », Revista de España, 420 (août, 1885), pp. 547-578; 422 (septembre, 1885), pp. 249-288; 424 (octobre, 1885), pp. 567-603) ; Isidro de las Cagigas, Libro Verde de Aragón (Madrid : Compañía Ibero-Americana de Publicaciones, 1929). 4 Miguel Ángel Motis, « Las comunidades judías del Reino de Aragón en la época de Benedicto XIII (1394-1423) : estructuras de poder y gobierno aljamial », VI Centenario del Papa Luna 1394-1994 (Calatayud : Centro de Estudios Bilbilitanos, 1996), pp. 127-128.

Monique Combescure

365

Sarmiento de Gamboa,5 qui contient une généalogie des rois indigènes. Le livre entier démontre la cruauté de ces populations précolombiennes et constitue ainsi, pour l’auteur, une justification de la conquête du pays par les Espagnols. Pour en revenir au Libro Verde, il ne faut pas oublier que l’Inquisition moderne espagnole, instituée en 1478, quand le pape Sixte IV donna aux Rois Catholiques l’autorisation de désigner eux-mêmes leurs inquisiteurs, surveillait soigneusement l’orthodoxie de la foi des nouveaux chrétiens, dont la conversion semblait peu sincère aux yeux de certains.6 Parallèlement, la situation légale et effective des conversos fut bientôt définie par les statuts de pureté de sang. En 1449, la Sentencia - Estatuto de la cathédrale de Tolède priva de la faculté de témoigner et éloigna des fonctions publiques et des bénéfices ecclésiastiques tout individu souillé par une « macule de sang juif », c’est-à-dire dont l’ascendance serait juive, même très partiellement.7 On comprend, dès lors, l’importance d’une littérature comme le Libro Verde qui constituait une menace pour beaucoup. Sa diffusion sous le manteau fut rapide comme un poison dans la société aragonaise du XVIe siècle et même au-delà. Ces précisions historiques mettent en évidence les enjeux de cet ouvrage. Mais ces motivations étaient-elles les seules ?

2. Les enjeux cachés du Libro Verde En effet, une datation minutieuse met en évidence que les quatre manuscrits que nous avons en notre possession8 ne furent pas terminés en 1507, mais beaucoup plus tard : fin du XVIe siècle et même début du siècle suivant. Or, entre 1507 et 1623 les problématiques évoluèrent considérablement et par conséquent, les enjeux purent également changer. Nous nous arrêterons plus spécialement sur les dates suivantes qui présentent un intérêt particulier : 1507-1517, 1550-1560, 1590 et 1623.

5

Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa, « Historia de los Incas », Biblioteca de Autores Españoles (Madrid : Ediciones Atlas, 1960), CXXXV, pp. 195-279. 6 Dominique Peyre, « L’Inquisition ou la politique de la présence », L’Inquisition espagnole, XVe-XIXe siècle, éd. par Bartolomé Bennassar (Paris : Hachette et Pluriel, 1994), p. 42. 7 Gérard Nahon, « Israël en 1492 : la Diaspora en mutation », Mémoire et fidélité séfarades 1492-1992 (Rennes : Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 1993), p. 18. 8 BNE, ms. 3090 ; BNE, ms. 18305 ; BC, ms. 56-5-15 ; AHN, ms. 1282.

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2. 1. 1507-1517 L’auteur explique, dès les premières lignes de tous les documents, qu’il écrivit son œuvre en 1507. Inquisiteur éloigné pour un temps de Saragosse à cause de la peste, il trompait son ennui en rédigeant des généalogies qu’il connaissait bien car elles concernaient divers conversos accusés dans des procès qu’il avait lui-même instruits.9 Rappelons qu’en septembre 1485, l’inquisiteur Pedro Arbués fut tué dans la Seo de Saragosse et que les conversos furent accusés de cet assassinat.10 Nombreux furent les procès inquisitoriaux à leur encontre entre 1486 et 1488.11 L’instruction de ces causes comportait une recherche sur les ancêtres des accusés.12 Le Libro Verde pourrait être le résultat de ce travail généalogique. En 1507, cette série de procès était terminée et le moment était favorable à l’élaboration de ce recueil. De plus, la qualité annoncée de l’auteur rendait plus crédibles ces études généalogiques. Par ailleurs, il faut signaler ce que représenta 1507 pour l’Aragon : la peste et la sècheresse dévastaient le royaume. Mais cette année-là, doublement dramatique pour l’Aragon, le fut triplement pour la Castille où à ces deux plaies s’ajoutait la guerre.13 Nous pouvons à ce sujet poser le problème de l’origine de l’auteur : s’agit-il d’un Aragonais ou d’un Castillan ? Examinons de près ce noyau constitué par des généalogies étudiées jusqu’à 1507, peut-être 1517. Elles concernent des lignages qui commencent au début du XVe siècle et décrits pendant un siècle. Mais de qui s’agit-il exactement ? Comparons les patronymes de ce noyau à ceux qui figurent dans les lignes suivantes : La primera Casa con que contó el príncipe Fernando en 1458 estaba compuesta por antiguos servidores de Juan II y su esposa Juana Enríquez. Entre éstos se encontraban el secretario Felipe Clement – que servirá a 9

Monique Combescure et Miguel Ángel Motis, El Libro Verde de Aragón (Saragosse : Libros Certeza, 2003), pp. 2-4. 10 Monique Combescure, « Saint Pedro Arbués, l’inquisiteur assassiné », Homenaje a Henri Guerreiro. La hagiografía entre historia y literatura en la España de la Edad Media y del Siglo de Oro, éd. par Marc Vitse (Navarra : Universidad de Navarra, Iberoamericana et Vervuert, 2005), pp. 405-420. 11 Antonio Ubieto, « Procesos de la Inquisición de Aragón », Revista de Archivos, Bibliotecas y Museos, 67/2 (1959), pp. 556-586. 12 Jean-Pierre Dedieu, L’administration de la foi. L’Inquisition de Tolède (XVIeXVIIIe siecle) (Madrid : Casa de Velázquez, 1992), pp. 331-332. 13 Pero de Alcocer, Relación de algunas cosas que pasaron en estos reinos desde que murió la reina Católica hasta que se acabaron las Comunidades en Toledo (Sevilla : Martín Gamero, 1872), p. 22.

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Fernando hasta 1500 – Diego de Urriés – su capellán mayor -, Ramón de Espés, mayordomo, que procedía de la Casa de Juana, el camarero Juan Cabrero, el camerlengo Miguel Gilbert y Pedro Vaca o el caballero Juan de Gamboa [...]. En 1465 aparece Luis Sánchez como tesorero general, y más adelante su hermano Alfonso y su pariente Francisco, futuros escribanos de Cámara [...]. Fernando el Católico [1480-1492] conservó a su equipo de aragoneses compuesto por los secretarios Felipe Clement, Gaspar de Ariño y especialmente Juan de Coloma [...]. Entre los hombres de confianza se encontraban Alfonso de la Cavallería – vicecanciller del Consejo de Aragón -, Juan Fernández de Heredia – regente de la gobernación -, el zaragozano Juan de Paternoy – maestre racional -, Juan Cabrero – su íntimo camarero -, el tesorero converso Gabriel Sánchez con sus parientes, y el escribano de ración Luis de Santángel, antiguo contino que se incorporó al servicio del rey junto con su hermano Jaime en 1482. En la comitiva regia también se encontraban algunos nobles aragoneses como los Urrea, los dos Hugo de Urriés y sobre todo Alfonso de Aragón, su hermano bastardo y duque de Villahermosa casado con la dama de la reina Leonor de Sotomayor.14

Nous constatons que c’est l’entourage du Roi Catholique, ses hommes de confiance, qui se trouvent dans le Libro Verde. Mais de quoi s’étaient 14

« La première Maison sur laquelle le prince Ferdinand compta en 1458 était composée d’anciens serviteurs de Jean II et de son épouse Jeanne Enríquez. Parmi ces derniers, se trouvaient le secrétaire Felipe Clement – qui servira Ferdinand jusqu’en 1500 – Diego de Urriés – son grand aumônier –, Ramón de Espés, majordome, qui provenait de la Maison de Jeanne, le camérier Juan Cabrero, – le camerlingue Miguel Gilbert et Pedro Vaca ou le chevalier Juan de Gamboa [...]. En 1465 Luis Sánchez apparaît comme trésorier général, et plus tard son frère Alfonso et son parent Francisco, futurs greffiers de la Chambre [...]. Ferdinand le Catholique [1480-1492] conserva son équipe d’Aragonais composée des secrétaires Felipe Clement, Gaspar de Ariño et spécialement Juan de Coloma [...]. Parmi les hommes de confiance, se trouvaient Alfonso de la Caballería – vicechancelier du Conseil d’Aragon –, Juan Fernández de Heredia – régent du gouvernement –, Juan de Paternoy de Saragosse – maître des comptes –, Juan Cabrero – son camérier intime –, le trésorier converti Gabriel Sánchez avec ses parents, et le greffier des comptes Luis de Santángel, ancien intime qui fut incorporé au service du roi avec son frère Jaime en 1482. Dans la suite royale se trouvaient aussi quelques nobles Aragonais comme les Urrea, les deux Hugo de Urriés et surtout Alphonse d’Aragon, son frère bâtard et duc de Villahermosa marié avec la dame de la reine Éléonore de Sotomayor » (Álvaro Fernández, « Sociedad cortesana y entorno regio », El mundo social de Isabel la Católica. La sociedad castellana a finales del siglo XV, pp. 57-60).

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donc rendus coupables ces administratifs de haut rang pour que leurs noms figurent au cœur de ces généalogies infamantes ? La réponse semble se trouver dans l’histoire de l’Espagne des Rois Catholiques et du début du règne de Charles Quint. Rappelons qu’en 1469 l’union d’Isabelle de Castille et de Ferdinand d’Aragon avait jeté les bases d’une situation politique nouvelle dans le paysage ibérique : [Los Reyes Católicos] pusieron los cimientos de un nuevo Estado, no mediante la introducción de nuevas instituciones, sino mediante la revivificación de las antiguas, que encaminaron al servicio de sus propios objectivos y a la afirmación de su propia autoridad sobre todo el organismo político. La « nueva monarquía » fue ante todo, en España, como en el resto de Europa, la vieja monarquía restaurada, pero restaurada con un sentido de la autoridad real y de los intereses nacionales capaz de lanzarla por caminos radicalmente diferentes.15

Elliott conclut ainsi : Castilla y la Corona de Aragón teóricamente unidas siguieron, pues, separadas por sus sistemas políticos, sus sistemas económicos e, incluso, sus sistemas monetarios.16

Si les Couronnes de Castille et d’Aragon restaient ainsi bien séparées et indépendantes, ce n’était pas le cas de leurs souverains respectifs dont les attributions avaient été définies par les contrats de mariage de Cervera de 1469, par lesquels Ferdinand reconnaissait Isabelle comme future propriétaire de Castille et Léon et s’engageait à se comporter dans ces royaumes selon la volonté de son épouse. En 1474, au moment du décès d’Henri IV de Castille, Isabelle et Ferdinand furent proclamés rois de

15 « Les Rois Catholiques battaient les bases d’un nouvel État grâce à l’introduction de nouvelles institutions, mais grâce à la revivification des anciennes, destinées au service de leurs propres objectifs et à l’affirmation de leur propre autorité surtout l’organisme politique. La « nouvelle monarchie » fut avant tout, en Espagne, comme dans le reste de l’Europe, la vieille monarchie restaurée, mais restaurée avec un sens de l’autorité royale et des intérêts nationaux capable de l’élancer sur des chemins radicalement différents » (John H. Elliott, La España imperial. 1469-1716 [Barcelone : Vicens Vives, 1965], p. 87). 16 « La Castille et la Couronne d’Aragon théoriquement unies restèrent donc séparées en raison de leurs systèmes politiques, de leurs systèmes économiques et, même, de leurs systèmes monétaires » (Elliott, La España imperial. 1469-1716, p. 130).

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Castille et de Léon. La Concordia de Segovia précisait le rôle de chacun dans la succession monarchique : En líneas generales, la concordia de Segovia adjudica a la Reina el gobierno interior de Castilla y a D. Fernando la política exterior con participación mutua en la administración de justicia – cuando estuviesen juntos – y otros pormenores de general conocimiento.17

Ferdinand, pour gouverner l’Aragon et les autres royaumes, fut toujours secondé par ses fidèles collaborateurs aragonais qu’il sollicitait fréquemment et en qui il avait une confiance absolue : Don Fernando se nos muestra muy inclinado a aconsejarse. Constantemente está pidiendo parecer a sus magnates, sus secretarios.18 L’apparition de ceux-ci dans l’administration castillane était contraire aux fueros : Hay que distinguir [...] entre diversos niveles nobiliarios y situaciones específicas de cada reino cuando nos referimos a otro tipo de ejercicio o participación del poder, lo habitual era que los altos cargos de Corte, Consejo y administración territorial estuvieran en manos de nobles o de otras personas naturales del Reino o Corona afectados. Sólo el rey Fernando pudo introducir en la administración castellana una cuña de colaboradores originarios de la Corona de Aragón, sin contrapartida, pero no eran nobles sino letrados y financieros a su servicio como el secretario Juan Coloma o el escribano de ración Luis de Santángel.19 17

« Dans les grandes lignes, l’accord de Segovia adjuge à la Reine le gouvernement intérieur de la Castille et à D. Ferdinand la politique étrangère avec la participation mutuelle à l’administration de justice – quand ils seront ensemble – et d’autres tenants et aboutissants de connaissance générale » (Manuel Tejado, « Política peninsular de Fernando el Católico », Vida y Obra de Fernando el Católico [Saragosse : Institución « Fernando el Católico », 1955], p. 259). 18 « Don Ferdinand se montre à nous très porté à se conseiller soi même. Il demande constamment à ressembler à ses magnats, à ses secrétaires » (Antonio de la Torre, « Fernando el Católico, gobernante », Vida y Obra de Fernando el Católico, p. 19). 19 « Il faut distinguer [...] entre divers niveaux nobiliaires et diverses situations spécifiques de chaque royaume quand nous nous référons à un autre type d’exercice ou participation du pouvoir, ce qui était habituel, c’était que les hauts postes de la Cour, du Conseil et de l’administration territoriale fussent entre les mains de nobles ou d’autres personnes naturelles du Royaume ou de la Couronne affectés. Seulement le roi Ferdinand put introduire dans l’administration castillane un appui considérable de collaborateurs originaires de la Couronne d'Aragon, sans

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La participation de Ferdinand au gouvernement de la Castille s’intensifia à partir du décès du prince héritier, Jean, en 1497. En effet, la reine s’affaiblit de plus en plus, affligée par la disparition, en 1499, de sa fille Isabelle devenue héritière, puis de celle de Michel, fils de cette dernière, en 1500. On constata alors des fissures dans l’unité de la « personne duelle » que formaient jusque là les Rois Catholiques. La présence aragonaise dans le gouvernement castillan ne passa pas inaperçue : Desde Castilla, se observó una progresiva infiltración aragonesa en su gobierno, y el análisis del cronista Fernández de Oviedo (« Gran copia de secretarios aragoneses es lo que hemos visto en tiempos del Rey Católico y todos medrados y ricos ») se ha llegado a convertir en tópico. Dicho análisis parte, así mismo, del espacio en blanco que ocupa la Corona de Aragón en las crónicas y a una lectura unidimensional del séquito fernandino donde también se produjeron cambios significativos en estas fechas. No parece casual que en 1499 se iniciara el proceso inquisitorial de Alfonso de la Cavallería y que un buen número de cortesanos aragoneses fueran también perseguidos.20

Le « groupe aragonais », dont l’ascension était évidente, se composait en réalité non seulement d’Aragonais mais également de Castillans, conversos et vieux chrétiens, tous partisans du roi Ferdinand. En faisaient partie également l’inquisiteur Deza, les secrétaires Miguel Pérez de contrepartie, mais ce n’étaient pas des nobles mais des avocats et des financiers à son service comme le secrétaire Juan Coloma ou le greffier des comptes Luis de Santángel » (Miguel Ángel Ladero, « Sociedad y poder real en tiempos de Isabel la Católica », El mundo social de Isabel la Católica. La sociedad castellana a finales del siglo XV, p. 71). 20 « Le 22 avril 1516, conseillé par Maximilien, [Charles V] annonça à son frère Ferdinand son intention de vouloir lui faire quitter la Péninsule et de le faire aller aux Pays-Bas, en préparant déjà son mariage avec Anne de Hongrie. La bonne image que possédait Ferdinand dans les royaumes péninsulaires et les désirs ardents de pouvoir de la camarilla de conseillers qui l’entouraient, menaçaient la prise de pouvoir de Charles V [...] En même temps, tout au long de l’été 1516, Charles continua à reconstruire le parti marginal pro-philippiste de Castille qui, après la mort de son père, avait été relégué par Ferdinand le Catholique. Il ordonna pour cela à Cisneros la concession de diverses grâces aux fidèles de son père, tant de temps exclus » (Manuel Rivero, « De la separación a la reunión dinástica : la Corona de Aragón entre 1504 y 1516 », La Corte de Carlos V- tercera parte – Los servidores de las Casas Reales, dir. par José Martínez [Madrid : Sociedad Estamental para la Conmemoración de los Centenarios de Felipe II y Carlos V, 2000], I, p. 88).

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Almazán, Ruiz de Calcena et Lope Conchillos. L’influence de ce « parti aragonais » ou « fernandino » se faisait également sentir dans les états patrimoniaux du Roi Catholique, où l’instrumentalisation de la religion pour asseoir le pouvoir politique fut particulièrement sensible à partir de la nomination de l’inquisiteur Deza en 1500. Celui-ci voulait que le SaintOffice occupe tous les espaces de la monarchie. Quand Philippe el Hermoso prit le pouvoir en Castille, un climat antiaragonais s’établit dans ce royaume. Ceci ne facilita pas la tâche du Roi Catholique qui, après le décès prématuré de son gendre en 1506, dut assurer une longue régence de dix ans. Les études historiques sur cette époque mettent en évidence surtout les succès les plus brillants de Ferdinand – entreprises africaines, annexion de la Navarre, politique italienne et européenne – mais laissent dans l’ombre presque tout ce qui concerne son action politique en Castille où il dut apaiser les nobles en rébellion, où le cardinal Cisneros combla les absences du roi et où il fut nécessaire de mettre un point final aux aspirations « philipistes » de l’empereur Maximilien.21 Alors que le roi se dirigeait « d’un pas lent vers la fin de sa vie », sa Cour allait également vers sa dissolution. Tout au long de l’année 1515 il régna un état de confusion qui put être interprété comme un authentique vacance du pouvoir. Aux Cortes de Calatayud, on vit la faiblesse de la Cour et le désintérêt des élites pour un gouvernement dans lequel elles ne croyaient plus. Tous attendaient la suite des événements. Le « parti fernandino », dirigé par l’archevêque don Alonso de Aragón, essaya en vain d’obtenir un accord avec le puissant « parti flamand ».22 Le vent avait déjà commencé à tourner pour la « faction fernandine » avant même le décès du Roi Catholique. Après sa disparition – janvier 1516 – le changement fut définitif. Charles de Gand ne tarda pas à écarter « le parti aragonais » pour favoriser les partisans de son défunt père : El 22 de abril de 1516, aconsejado por Maximiliano, [Carlos V] anunció a su hermano Fernando su intención de querer sacarlo de la península y hacerlo ir a los Países Bajos, preparando ya su boda con Ana de Hungría. La buena imagen que poseía Fernando en los reinos peninsulares y las ansias de poder de la camarilla de consejeros que lo rodeaban, amenazaban la toma de poder de Carlos V [...] Al mismo tiempo, a lo largo del verano de 1516, Carlos fue reconstruyendo el marginado partido profilipista de Castilla que, tras la muerte de su padre, había sido

21

Tejado, « Política peninsular de Fernando el Católico », p.261. Rivero, « De la separación a la reunión dinástica : la Corona de Aragón entre 1504 y 1516 », I, pp. 99-100.

22

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Les enjeux du Libro Verde de Aragón relegado por Fernando el Católico. Ordenó para ello a Cisneros la concesión de diversas mercedes a los fieles de su padre, tanto tiempo marginados.23

Dans cette manœuvre, le roi Charles trouva tout naturellement une aide dans les idées de Cisneros. Le cardinal avait toujours manifesté peu d’affinité envers les collaborateurs du Roi Catholique.24 N’avait-il pas conseillé lui-même au futur empereur : De aragonés y confeso no confíe alguna cosa (« ne confier rien à un Aragonais converti »)? Il pensait même qu’il était préférable que le gouvernement de Naples fût assuré par un Flamand plutôt que par un Aragonais.25 Déjà, par le passé, il n’avait pas apprécié l’attitude de ces conversos après le décès de Felipe el Hermoso : s’étant introduits à la Cour des Flandres, ils avaient essayé de « se placer » auprès du futur souverain qu’ils couvraient de somptueux cadeaux. On avait beaucoup remarqué les nombreuses allées et venues du secrétaire Lope Conchillos, de Luis Sánchez, trésorier de la Couronne d’Aragon et des Indes, entre la Péninsule Ibérique et Bruxelles. Ces générosités dont ils faisaient preuve avaient été rendues possibles grâce aux richesses venues d’Amérique, dont le trésorier était précisément Luis Sánchez.26 Cisneros avait toujours manifesté un désaccord total avec cette exploitation du Nouveau Monde, dont la gestion aragonaise lui semblait monstrueuse. 23 « Le 22 avril 1516, conseillé par Maximilien, [Charles V] annonça à son frère Ferdinand son intention de vouloir lui faire quitter la Péninsule et de le faire aller aux Pays-Bas, en préparant déjà son mariage avec Anne de Hongrie. La bonne image que possédait Ferdinand dans les royaumes péninsulaires et les désirs ardents de pouvoir de la camarilla de conseillers qui l’entouraient, menaçaient la prise de pouvoir de Charles V [...] En même temps, tout au long de l’été 1516, Charles continua à reconstruire le parti marginal pro-philippiste de Castille qui, après la mort de son père, avait été relégué par Ferdinand le Catholique. Il ordonna pour cela à Cisneros la concession de diverses grâces aux fidèles de son père, tant de temps exclus » (Juan Antonio Vilar, « Los primeros años del gobierno de Carlos de Habsburgo en los Países Bajos », Carlos V. Europeísmo y Universalidad. Los escenarios del Imperio [Madrid : Sociedad Estatal para la Conmemoración de los Centenarios de Felipe II y Carlos V, 2001], III, p. 574). 24 José García, Cisneros, un cardenal reformista en el trono de España (14361517) (Madrid : La Esfera de los Libros, 2005), pp. 242-243, 267, 285, 295 et 318319. 25 Carlos José Hernando, « El reino de Nápoles de Fernando el Católico a Carlos V (1506-1522) », De la unión de coronas al Imperio de Carlos V, II, p. 159. 26 Manuel Giménez, Bartolomé de las Casas. Delegado de Cisneros para la reformación de las Indias (1516-1517) (Sevilla : Publicaciones de la Escuela de Estudios Hispano-Americanos de Sevilla, 1953), I, pp. 8, 55-57, 246, 263-264, 267, 279, 345, 377, 395 et 397-399; II, pp. 7, 10, 16, 24, 38-43, 50, 55-56 et 105.

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Parmi les indianos absentistas (« colons absentéistes »), ceux qui retiraient d’immenses profits de leurs encomiendas d’Amérique sans être jamais allés sur ce continent, on comptait, en plus de Conchillos – el secretario que tenía tantos indios en las cuatro Antillas (« le secrétaire qui avait tant d’Indiens dans les quatre Antilles »), el que mandaba en las Indias más que el soberano español (« celui qui commandait dans les Indes plus que le souverain espagnol ») – et Luis Sánchez, les enfants du secrétaire Almazán, le camérier Juan Cabrero auquel succéda son neveu Martín Cabrero, Alonso de la Cavallería qui obtint du Roi Catholique la concession exclusive du commerce avec les Indes.27 Ils constituaient ce que Manuel Giménez Fernández désigne par les termes forts de poderoso partido aragonés, corrompida camarilla de Fernando V, cohechadores fernandinos, fauna aragonesa explotadora de Indias, marranalla. Sous la plume de ce dernier reviennent également les expressions : intriga fernandista, conspiración fernandista, inmoral contubernio de aragoneses y flamencos qui auraient été de connivence avec les Juifs d’Anvers. L’unique remède efficace, pour Cisneros, aurait été l’application des statuts de pureté de sang.28 Il faut souligner qu’au moment de la disparition de Ferdinand, le prince Charles de Gand, particulièrement jeune – seize ans – était « como barro entre las manos de un alfarero.29 Ecoutant son entourage qui lui susurrait qu’une grande partie de la Cour se composait de conversos, il aurait voulu vérifier la véracité de ces rumeurs afin de prendre les mesures qui s’imposaient : En una ocasión pensó expulsar de su corte a todas las personas de sangre judía y envió una lista de nombres en cifra con instrucciones para que le informasen de sus genealogías, a lo cual la Suprema de Aragón respondió 27 Demetrio Ramos, « Los gobernantes aragoneses en la época de Fernando el Católico », Los aragoneses en la empresa de Indias (Saragosse : Institución « Fernando el Católico », 1990), pp. 11-23; Juan José Andreu, « Aragón en el descubrimiento de América », Los aragoneses en la empresa de Indias, pp. 60-61 et 66. 28 « Puissant parti aragonais, entourage corrompu de Ferdinand V, suborneurs fernandistes, faune aragonaise exploitant les Indes, ensemble de convers dépravés » ; « intrigue fernandiste, conspiration fernandiste, association immorale d’Aragonais et de Flamands ». Giménez, Bartolomé de las Casas. Delegado de Cisneros para la reformación de las Indias (1516-1517), I, pp. 7, 97, 157, 169, 270, 282, 343, 354 et 402. 29 « comme de l’argile entre les mains d’un potier » (Henry Charles Lea, Historia de la Inquisición española [Madrid : Fundación Universitaria Española, 1983], I, p. 236).

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Les enjeux du Libro Verde de Aragón el 27 de octubre de 1516 con parte de la información prometida proporcionarle más adelante la que faltaba, a la vez que expresaba gran satisfacción por sus promesas de ayuda y protección en todo.30

Ce document peut être comparé, par son esprit, avec l’Informe que Lorenzo Galíndez de Carvajal dió al Emperador Carlos V sobre el Consejo Real élaboré au début du règne de ce dernier.31 Peut-on voir dans ces écrits les prémices du Libro Verde, celui que nous étudions dans ce paragraphe, dont les généalogies ne dépassent pas 1517 ? Examinons maintenant l’étape suivante de construction des Libros Verdes : 1550-1560.

2. 2. 1550-1560 Les régences furent toujours des périodes particulières et problématiques pour l’histoire d’un pays. Après avoir parlé du gouvernement de Cisneros en 1506-1507 puis de 1516 à 1517, nous allons nous intéresser à une autre régence : les seize années qui séparent les règnes effectifs de Charles Quint et Philippe II (1543-1559) et celle-là ne fut pas une exception.32 La raison en est que tous les exemplaires du Libro Verde se composent d’une partie commune qui décrit les généalogies depuis 1400 jusqu’à 1550-1560 et présentent ensuite des prolongements différents suivants les

30 « Un jour, il songea à expulser de sa cour toutes les personnes de sang juif et envoya une liste de noms en chiffre avec des instructions pour qu’on l’informa sur leurs généalogies, à quoi le Conseil de l’Inquisition Suprême d’Aragon répondit le 27 octobre 1516 avec une partie de l’information promise et lui fournit plus tard celle qui manquait, en même temps qu’il|elle exprimait une grande satisfaction par ses promesses d’aide et de protection dans tout » (Lea, Historia de la Inquisición española, I, p. 237). 31 Lorenzo Galíndez, « Informe que Lorenzo Galíndez de Carvajal dió al Emperador Carlos V sobre los que componían el Consejo Real de S.M. », Colección de Documentos Inéditos para la Historia de España (Madrid : Academia de la Historia, 1842), I, pp. 122-127; Juan Hernández, « El ‘consentimiento’ del Emperador a los estatutos de limpieza de sangre y el comienzo del viraje hacia la Monarquia Católica », Carlos V. Europeísmo y Universalidad. Población, economía y sociedad, IV, p. 378. 32 Gregorio Colás et José Antonio Salas, Aragón en el siglo XVI : alteraciones sociales y conflictos políticos (Saragosse : Universidad de Zaragoza, 1982), pp. 441-458.

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textes. Il semble qu’après ce palier de 1550-1560, chacun vécut sa propre vie. La description des familles proposée dans le premier noyau –qui va jusqu’à 1507 ou 1517 – a été ensuite prolongée jusqu’à la période 15501560 pour former la partie commune de tous les Libros Verdes. D’autres généalogies furent également ajoutées mais on ne peut pas savoir exactement quand : celles de familles qui, à notre connaissance, n’eurent pas affaire à l’Inquisition avant 1507, par exemple la descendance de don Alonso de Aragón, Grand Maître de Calatrava, ou celle de don Nuño Cabeza de Vaca. La confection de cette partie commune se fit à une époque difficile de l’histoire espagnole. Les dernières années du règne de Charles Quint se déroulèrent dans une conjoncture défavorable : climatologie irrégulière, hivers rigoureux depuis 1552 suivis d’inondations et invasion de sauterelles en 1556. Ceci provoqua une crise céréalière : la récolte de 1555-1557 fut déficitaire. Nous remarquerons également deux épidémies de peste, une en 1555 et une autre en 1558.33 Nous ajouterons à cela des difficultés politiques tant à l’extérieur du pays qu’à l’intérieur : En 1550 la mayor parte de los estados del imperio de Carlos se veían enfrentados a un grave desequilibrio financiero y en todos ellos existían síntomas de inquietud y discordia con su política.34 En el verano de 1556, Felipe recibió numerosas peticiones para que regresara de forma inmediata. Juana y muchos consejeros se sentían profundamente afectados por un cúmulo de circunstancias adversas : los aragoneses se negaban a aceptar la sucesión de Felipe ; en Cataluña soplaban aires de rebelión ; la amenaza de las potencias musulmanas en el Mediteráneo se hacía más fuerte y la situación financiera había empeorado dramáticamente ante las nuevas solicitudes de dinero para Italia.35 33 José Luis Betrán, « Las crisis de mortalidad en la península ibérica durante el reinado de Carlos I », Carlos V. Europeísmo y universalidad. Población, economía y sociedad, coord. par Juan Luis Castellano et Francisco Sánchez-Montes (Madrid: Sociedad Estatal para la Conmemoración de los Centenarios de Felipe II y Carlos V, 2001), IV, pp. 104-106. 34 « En 1550 la plupart des États de l’empire de Charles se voyaient confrontés à un grave déséquilibre financier et dans eux tous existait des symptômes d’inquiétude et de discorde avec sa politique » (María José Rodríguez, Un imperio en transición. Carlos V, Felipe II y su mundo [Barcelona : Editorial Crítica, 1992], p. 49). 35 « À l’été 1556, Philippe reçut de nombreuses pétitions pour qu’il rentre immédiatement. Jeanne et beaucoup de conseillers se sentaient profondément

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Les époques difficiles ont toujours été propices à la montée du « racisme » et la fin du règne de Charles Quint ne fit pas exception à la règle, d’autant plus que c’était le moment où allait s’effectuer un changement générationnel dans la transmission des charges. Pour éviter le danger de « l’infiltration aragonaise » dans la haute administration, l’Empereur fit reconnaître les statuts de pureté de sang qui rendaient indispensable la preuve d’ancêtres « purs » pour l’obtention de certains emplois.36 Pour la première fois, le bref de Paul III apposa le sceau papal sur cette coutume déjà établie.37 Il doit avoir existé, vers 1550-1560, un document dressant le bilan sur l’état de la pureté de sang des anciens administratifs de haut rang dont les descendants auraient pu prétendre à des charges importantes dans un futur proche. Aucun Libro Verde ne peut être identifié avec cette partie commune qui ne va pas au-delà de 1560, mais le Ms 3090 BNE s’en approche beaucoup.

2. 3. 1620 Le Ms 3090 BNE se compose, en effet, du tronc commun prolongé d’une branche luso-andalouse de la descendance supposée – à tort – de la Juive Estenga Conejo et de don Alonso de Aragón, Grand Maître de Calatrava. Or, ce couple présente un intérêt de premier ordre. Il est mis en évidence dans tous les documents : situé au début du Ms 56-5-15 BC, il est placé à la fin des autres textes. Don Alonso, fils naturel du roi Jean II d’Aragon, était demi-frère du Roi Catholique et son aîné de trente-huit ans. Dès les premières lignes de cette généalogie apparaît la belle Estenga Conejo :

touchés par une accumulation de circonstances défavorables : les Aragonais refusaient d’accepter la succession de Philippe ; en Catalogne soufflait comme un vent de rébellion ; la menace des puissances musulmanes dans la Méditerranée devenait plus forte et la situation financière s’était aggravée dramatiquement devant les nouvelles demandes d’argent pour l’Italie » (Rodríguez, Un imperio en transición. Carlos V, Felipe II y su mundo, p. 311). 36 Juan Hernández, « El ‘ consentimiento’ del Emperador a los estatutos de limpieza de sangre y el comienzo del viraje hacia la Monarquía Católica », Carlos V. Europeísmo y universalidad. Población, economía y sociedad, IV, pp. 365-385. 37 Albert A. Sicroff, Les controverses des statuts de « pureté de sang » en Espagne du XVe au XVIIe siècle (Paris : Didier, 1960), p. 131.

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Albiatar Conejo, de Zaragoça, ropabejero judio que viuia en los callejones de S[an]ta Catalina, entre otros muchos hijos, tubo dos hijas : la una llamada Estengua y la otra Lia. La Estengua, que fue la mayor, fue muy hermosa de la qual, siendo donçella, se enamoro don Al[ons]o de Aragon, hijo bastardo de el rey don Juan, que se llamo el Maestre de Calatraua ; y por esto, a la dicha Estengua, siendo su amiga, la llamaron muchos an[n]os la Maestresa y, despues de christiana, don[n]a Maria.38

C’est donc hors des liens officiels du mariage que naquirent, selon tous les Libros Verdes, les enfants suivants : don Juan, don Alonso, don Fernando et doña Leonor d’Aragon. Leurs descendances respectives furent d’importance inégale. Don Alonso, évêque de Tortosa puis archevêque de Tarragone, mourut sans postérité. Don Fernando, prieur de Catalogne, eut un fils également appelé don Fernando, chevalier de l’Ordre de Saint Jean, commandeur de Novillas, auquel aucun enfant n’est attribué.39 Don Juan et doña Leonor furent plus prolifiques et c’est justement sur leurs héritiers que le généalogiste va s’attarder longuement. Avant de suivre l’évolution de ces deux branches, nous comparerons les affirmations du Libro Verde avec les études historiques concernant don Alonso d’Aragon. Celles-ci nous apprennent qu’il vécut entre 1415 et 1485, qu’en 1443 il fut élu Grand Maître de l’Ordre de Calatrava, charge qui impliquait le célibat. Mais les nombreuses opportunités que lui offrirent ses campagnes militaires lui firent rencontrer María Junquers, fille du gouverneur de la forteresse de Rosas, en Catalogne. Il enleva la jeune fille et l’emmena dans son château de Benabarre, où elle lui donna deux enfants : don Juan puis doña Leonor. Ceci est attesté par le Privilegio Real de 1475. 38

« Albiatar Conejo, de Saragosse, chiffonnier juif qui vivait dans les ruelles de Sainte-Catherine, parmi beaucoup d’autres enfants, eut deux filles : l’une prénommée Estengua et l’autre Lia. Estengua, qui fut l’aînée, fut très belle dont, étant donzelle/célibataire, s’éprit don Alonso d’Aragon, fils bâtard du roi Jean, qu’on appela le Maître de Calatrava ; et c’est pour cela que, ladite Estengua, étant son amie, fut appelée pendant beaucoup d’années la Maîtresse et, une fois chrétienne, doña Maria » (BNE, ms. 3090, fol. 27 ; BNE, ms. 18305, fol.188vº; BC, ms. 56-5-15, fol.2-2v; AHN, ms. 1282, fol. 61). 39 Francisco Fernández de Béthencourt émet un avis différent sur ce point. Il indique l’existence de deux fils du Commandeur de Novillas : D. Juan de Aragón, abad de La Baz, arcediano de Gerona y prior de Besalú en Cataluña (año 1536) y de otro don Fernando de Aragón que murió en Pedrola, muy joven (Francisco Fernández de Béthencourt, Historia genealógica y heráldica de la monarquía española, casa real y grandes de España (Sevilla : Fabiola de Publicaciones Hispalenses, 2002), III, p. 400.

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Il eut ensuite avec la Juive Estenga Conejo : don Alonso, archevêque de Tarragone, don Fernando, prieur de Catalogne, et doña María, abbesse du couvent San Clemente Real de Tolède. Un autre fils, don Enrique, naquit de sa relation avec Catalina Maldonado, de Salamanque. A soixante ans passés, il épousa doña Leonor de Sotomayor y Portugal, appelée souvent doña Leonor de Soto, dont il eut trois enfants légitimes : don Fernando d’Aragon, puis don Alonso d’Aragon qui hérita du titre de duc de Villahermosa à cause du décès prématuré de son frère aîné et, enfin, doña María d’Aragon qui, par son mariage, devint princesse de Salerne et comtesse de Marsico. Don Alonso avait alors renoncé à la Grande Maîtrise de l’Ordre de Calatrava et son père l’avait fait duc de Villahermosa.40 La diversité des compagnes de don Alonso d’Aragon et le nombre de descendants qu’elles lui donnèrent ont conduit le généalogiste du Libro Verde à « confondre » les enfants de la très Chrétienne María Junquers avec ceux de la Juive Estenga Conejo. C’est précisément les descendances de doña Leonor et don Juan d’Aragon, auxquels est faussement attribué un « sang impur », que décrit le Libro Verde.

40 Jerónimo de Zurita, Anales de la Corona de Aragón (Saragosse : Institución « Fernando el Católico », 1988), VIII, pp. 496- 497; Francisco Fernández de Béthencourt, Historia genealógica y heráldica de la monarquía española, casa real y grandes de España, III, pp. 382-469; Ángel Canellas, « Estudios ribagorzanos: notas para la vida dramática de don Juan de Aragón y Gurrea », Cuadernos de Historia de Jerónimo Zurita, 6-7 (1958), pp. 86-88; José Navarro, Don Alonso de Aragón, la « espada » o « lanza » de Juan II. Esquema biográfico de uno de los mejores guerreros españoles del siglo XV (Saragosse : Diputación Provincial - Institución « Fernando el Católico », 1983), pp. 3, 26, 44, 46, 49 et 5152.

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Descendance de don Alonso de Aragón, grand Maître de Calatrava

Alors que les autres textes s’intéressent exclusivement aux héritiers de don Juan, le Ms 3090 BNE est le seul qui étudie le lignage de doña Leonor : La hija, llamada d[onn]a Leonor de Aragon, fue casada [con el] conde de Aluaida, en el reino de Valenzia, y deste ubo un solo hijo llamado d[o]n Christoual de Milan, que oi es conde de Aluaida. Y mas ubo ocho hijas, que la una casso en Portugal con d[o]n Juan Manuel. Y tubieron por hija a don[n]a Maria de Aragon, dama de la Emperatriz d[onn]a Isauel, que casso con d[o]n Aluaro de Cordoua, hijo del conde de Cabra, el qual fue

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Dans cette branche, qui conduit le lecteur jusqu’en Andalousie et au Portugal, apparaissent des personnages célèbres. On sait qu’en 1477 doña Leonor d’Aragon, fille du Grand Maître de Calatrava, épousa don Jaime de Milán y Borja, premier comte d’Albaida, dont elle eut plusieurs filles et un fils. Ce dernier, don Cristóbal de Milán y Aragón, hérita du titre paternel en 1530,42 alors que les unions matrimoniales de ses sœurs se révélaient dignes de leur rang : l’une d’entre elles se maria avec don Jofre de Borja, premier prince de Squillache,43 et une autre avec don Nuño Manuel, almotacén mayor de Portugal, camarero mayor del rey don Juan Manuel,44 et non avec Juan Manuel comme l’indique le Ms 3090 de la Bibliothèque National d’Espagne (BNE).

41 « La hija, llamada d[onn]a Leonor de Aragon, fue casada [con el] conde de Aluaida, en el reino de Valenzia, y deste ubo un solo hijo llamado d[o]n Christoual de Milan, que oi es conde de Aluaida. Y mas ubo ocho hijas, que la una casso en Portugal con d[o]n Juan Manuel. Y tubieron por hija a don[n]a Maria de Aragon, dama de la Emperatriz d[onn]a Isauel, que casso con d[o]n Aluaro de Cordoua, hijo del conde de Cabra, el qual fue cauallerizo maior del rey d[o]n Phelipe Segundo, Nuestro Sen[n]or, y tubieron por hijos : a don Antonio de Cordoua que casso en Toledo con d[onn]a Polizena Lasso ; y a d[o]n Felipe de Cordoua, y a d[o]n Gonzalo de Cordoua, abad de Rute ; y a don Aluaro de Cordoua, de la Camara del rey don Felipe Terzero ; y a la condessa de Buendia ; y a la condessa de Gelues, madre del conde d[o]n Jorge Aluerto de Portugal, padre de la condessa de Gelues d[onn]a Leonor de Portugal y hermana de d[o]n Nun[n]o » (BNE, ms. 3090, fol. 27v). 42 Josep Moll, La Villa de Albaida : Señores y Marqueses (Albaida : Ayuntamiento de Albaida, 2000), p.7. 43 Francisco Fernández de Béthencourt, Historia genealógica y heráldica de la monarquía española, casa real y grandes de España, IV, p. 302; Óscar Villaroel, Los Borgia. Iglesia y poder entre los siglos XV y XVI (Madrid : Sílex, 2005), p. 299. 44 « Grand vérificateur des poids et mesures du Portugal, grand camérier du roi don Juan Manuel » (Gonzalo Fernández, Batallas y Quinquagenas [Madrid : Real Academia de la Historia, 2000], I , p. 361) (original de 1544).

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La petite fille de doña Leonor s’unit par mariage à la famille Fernández de Córdoba qui s’illustra brillamment pendant le règne de Philippe II. Don Álvaro de Córdoba, fils aîné du comte de Cabra, fut par exemple grand écuyer de Charles Quint, puis du prince Philippe de 1539 à 1543. Son fils et homonyme est souvent cité comme gentilhomme de la Cour de Philippe III jusqu’à son décès, en 1602.45 L’auteur du Ms 3090 BNE, après avoir oublié la postérité de don Cristóbal de Milán, donc celle de la comtesse d’Albaida, énumère les enfants de doña María d’Aragon et de don Álvaro de Córdoba : don Antonio, don Felipe, don Álvaro, la comtesse de Buendía – doña Francisca d’Aragon, épouse de don Juan de Acuña, sixième comte de Buendía46 – et la comtesse de Gelves. C’est de celle-ci qu’il va prolonger la descendance, mentionnant son fils, don Jorge Alberto de Portugal, père de doña Leonor, également comtesse de Gelves. Les historiens qui ont étudié ce lignage expliquent que don Jorge Alberto de Portugal, troisième comte de Gelves, frère de don Nuño de Portugal, mourut accidentellement en 1578, laissant pour seule héritière une fille, doña Leonor de Portugal y Vicentelo, qui devint comtesse de Gelves. Cette dernière se maria deux fois. Son premier époux, don Fernando Ruiz de Castro, qui lui donna une fille, décéda en 1608. Elle contracta par la suite un nouveau mariage avec don Diego Carrillo de Mendoza y Pimentel. Celui-ci disparut en 161847 et nous pouvons considérer que le Ms 3090 BNE est contemporain de cette époque. Nous nous interrogerons sur les raisons de ce développement généalogique sélectif. Pourquoi l’auteur a-t-il oublié de préciser tous les descendants du comte d’Albaida, puis tous ceux de don Álvaro de Córdoba et doña Leonor d’Aragon ? Il a réduit son étude en se limitant à

45

Luis Cabrera, Relaciones de las cosas sucedidas en la Corte de España desde 1592 hasta 1614 (León : Junta de Castilla y León, 1997), p. 66, 145 et 509; Corpus documental de Carlos V (1539-1548), éd. par Manuel Fernández (Salamanca : Ediciones Universalidad, 1973), II, pp. 187 et 287; Antonio ÁlvarezOssorio, « ‘Far Serimonie alla spagnola’: el duque de Sessa, gobernador del Estado de Milán (1558-1564) », Felipe II y el Mediterráneo, coord. par Ernest Belenguer (Madrid: Sociedad Estatal para la Conmemoración de los Centenarios de Felipe II y Carlos V, 1999), III, p. 423; Carlos José Hernando, « La cultura ecuestre en la Corte de Felipe II », La monarquía de Felipe II : la casa del rey, dir. par José Martínez et Santiago Fernández (Madrid : Fundación Mapfre, 2005), I, p. 284. 46 Juan Antonio Llorente, Historia crítica de la Inquisición en España (Madrid: Ediciones Hiperión, 1981), III, p. 170; La Corte de Carlos V, IV, p. 49. 47 Francisco Fernández de Béthencourt, Historia genealógica y heráldica de la monarquía española, casa real y grandes de España, IV, pp. 523-526.

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une des filles de ce dernier couple et à ses descendants, les comtes de Gelves. Ce qui attire tout d’abord notre attention, c’est la présence dans ce paragraphe de don Jorge et de don Nuño de Portugal, membres de la famille des comtes de Gelves. Or, à la même époque vivaient au Portugal des cousins et homonymes de ces personnages qui, eux, appartenaient à la maison du comte de Vimioso : don Jorge de Portugal et don Nuño Alvares de Portugal. Leur ancêtre commun était leur arrière-grand-père, don Alvaro de Portugal, comte de Tentugal, mort à Ségovie en 1503. On connaît l’action du comte de Vimioso et des siens qui combattirent avec acharnement au côté de don Antonio, prieur de Crato, prétendant malheureux au trône portugais en 158048. C’est justement un membre de cette famille, don Jorge de Portugal, qui fut président de la Cámara de Lisbonne – conseil municipal de cette ville – depuis 1582 jusqu’à 1615, date à laquelle lui succéda son fils, don Nuño Alvares de Portugal, qui devint co-gouverneur du pays de 1619 jusqu’à sa mort, en 1623. Or, sous la domination espagnole (1580-1640), il était très difficile aux Portugais de faire entendre leur voix car tous les mécanismes administratifs étaient aux mains des Espagnols. Seule, la Cámara de Lisbonne permettait la libre expression de leurs revendications. On voit clairement le rôle d’opposition que purent jouer don Jorge et don Nuño Alvares de Portugal qui « incarnaient par leur seul nom le parti de l’indépendance et de l’opposition à la monarchie des Habsbourg »49. Est-ce un pur hasard si on trouve ici, à la fin de la généalogie, des noms qui rappellent des événements très récents pour le lecteur de l’époque ? N’oublions pas que le Libro Verde fut brûlé lors d’un autodafé sur la place du Marché de Saragosse en 1622 et reconnu sans valeur dans les investigations inquisitoriales par la Pragmatique de 1623.

48

Luis Cabrera, Historia de Felipe II, rey de España, II, pp. 851, 901, 912, 939, 942, 956, 961, 975 et 977; Peter Pierson, Felipe II de España (México: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1984), p. 205; Erich Lassota, « Viaje por España y Portugal del alemán Erich Lassota de Steblovo (1580-1584) », Viajes de extranjeros por España y Portugal, éd. par José García (Salamanca : Junta de Castilla y León, 1999), II, p. 419, 428 et 435. 49 Claude Gaillard, Le Portugal sous Philippe III d’Espagne. L’action de Diego de Silva y Mendoza (Grenoble : Université des Langues et Lettres de Grenoble, 1982), pp. 126-127, 130, 139-142, 152, 154, 157, 244, 320, 323-324, 341, 354, 356-357, 369 et 371.

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2. 4. 1590-1591 Avec le Ms 1282 AHN, nous ne voyagerons pas dans l’espace comme avec le document antérieur – nous resterons en Aragon – mais nous évoluerons dans le temps car ce texte se poursuit jusqu’aux dernières années du XVIe siècle. En effet, ce manuscrit dépeint avec précision la descendance de don Juan d’Aragon, second comte de Ribagorza (1457-1528) pendant trois générations : son fils don Alonso de Gurrea y Aragón (1478-1550), marié trois fois, ensuite son petit-fils, don Martín de Gurrea y Aragón (15251581) pour terminer finalement avec les enfants de ce dernier : don Juan, don Fernando, don Martin, don Fran[cis]co y don[n]a Ana de Aragon. La don[n]a Ana esta casada con el vizconde de Ebol y tienen hijos. El don Juan de Aragon caso con don[n]a Luisa Pacheco y murio sin hijos. Los demas hijos de el dicho Martin de Aragon estan por casar, sino el menor llamado don Fran[cis]co que caso con don[n]a Leonor Çaporta, hija de Gabriel Çaporta.50

On a souvent raconté la triste fin de l’aîné, don Juan qui, après avoir tué son épouse qu’il soupçonnait d’infidélité, s’enfuit en Italie où il fut capturé. Il fut ensuite exécuté en 1572 à Torrejón de Velasco.51 Les mariages de ses deux frères, don Francisco avec Leonor Zaporta et don Fernando avec doña Juana Pernstein, eurent lieu respectivement en 1574 et 1582.52 On peut déduire avec précision de cela que la généalogie décrite dans ce document se termine entre ces deux dates, étant donné que don Fernando y est présenté comme célibataire. Mais la descendance du Grand Maître de Calatrava n’est pas la seule à s’approcher de la fin du XVIe siècle. Dans les lignes du Ms 1282 AHN apparaissent d’autres personnages 50

« don Jean, don Ferdinand, don Martin, don François et doña Anne d’Aragon. Doña Anne est mariée au vicomte d’Évol et ont des enfants. Don Jean d’Aragon se maria avec doña Louise Pacheco et mourut sans enfants. Les autres enfants dudit Martin d’Aragon ne sont pas encore mariés, sauf le plus jeune nommé don François qui se maria avec doña Éléonore Çaporta, fille de Gabriel Çaporta » (AHN, ms. 1282, fol. 63v). 51 Ángel Canellas, « Estudios ribagorzanos: notas para la vida dramática de don Juan de Aragón y Gurrea », pp. 77-86; Jesús Gascón, La rebelión de las palabras. Sátiras y oposición política en Aragón (1590-1626) (Saragosse : Prensas Universitarias de Zaragoza, Instituto de Estudios Altoaragoneses et Departamento de Educación, Cultura y Deporte del Gobierno de Aragón, 2003), p. 229; 52 Francisco Fernández de Béthencourt, Historia genealógica y heráldica de la monarquía española, casa real y grandes de España, III, pp. 459 et 465.

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dont les noms sont intimement liés à la situation explosive de l’Aragon de cette époque-là : Francés de Ariño, Lope de Francia, Sebastián de Arbas, don Juan de Luna – seigneur de Purroy –, Manuel Donlope … Il faut rappeler que l’Aragon de la fin du XVIe siècle fut le théâtre de ce que l’on a coutume d’appeler les alteraciones (« troubles ») ou révolution de 1591. Ce royaume, qui vivait sous le régime du « pactisme »,53 vit ses fueros (« privilèges ») bafoués à plusieurs reprises depuis les régences de 1543-1559. C’est alors que naquit le « parti » ou plus exactement le « groupe fuerista » composé par les défenseurs des libertés et lois aragonaises contre l’autoritarisme de Philippe II. De nombreux Aragonais avaient appartenu à ce mouvement mais, au fur et à mesure que le temps passait, la majorité d’entre eux recula car les tensions allaient augmentant entre le roi et son royaume et un affrontement paraissait inévitable. Celui-ci eut lieu lors de l’arrivée d’Antonio Pérez à Saragosse le 15 avril 1590. Ce secrétaire royal, emprisonné pour cause de trahison, avait réussi en effet à tromper la vigilance de ses geôliers castillans et était entré précipitamment en Aragon, où les lois locales devaient le protéger. Son père étant d’origine aragonaise, il prétendait jouir du « privilège de la manifestation ».54 L’arrivée d’Antonio Pérez eut l’effet d’une allumette sur un pailler bien sec. Saragosse s’embrasa soudainement. Le vice-roi, comte d’Almenara, fut assassiné. Antonio Pérez réussit à s’échapper à l’occasion d’une manifestation de rue, lors de son transfert d’une prison à une autre. Aidé de divers complices, il traversa les Pyrénées et se réfugia en France où il vécut jusqu’à sa mort en 1611. Philippe II mit fin au soulèvement de Saragosse en envoyant la troupe : Alonso de Vargas occupa le terrain à partir du 15 octobre 1591. L’opposition se réduisit alors à quatre personnes qui formèrent ce que l’on appela la junta (« comité ») de Belchite, constituée par le duc de

53

« Dans la double monarchie issue du mariage d’Isabelle de Castille et de Ferdinand d’Aragon, la Couronne d’Aragon présente une profonde originalité au moment même où l’Etat Moderne, autoritaire et centralisateur, se met en place. Ses institutions sont censées limiter l’autoritarisme du souverain et garantir les « libertés » - lisons privilèges - du Royaume en vertu d’une sorte de contrat tacite entre le roi et les habitants de ces territoires. C’est ce qu’on appelle le pactisme » (Christian Desplat et Adrián Blázquez, Henri IV, Antonio Pérez. La Légende Noire Espagnole (Pau : Éditions Cairn, 2001), pp. 88-89. 54 « La procédure forale de manifestación : emprisonnement provisoire par mesure de protection sous l’autorité du Justice, le temps que celui-ci statue sur un cas litigieux » (Christine Langé, Pouvoir royal, pouvoir foral. La capitainerie générale et le pleito du capitaine de guerre en Aragon, XVIe-XVIIe siècles (Toulouse : Université Toulouse II- Le Mirail, thèse doctorale, 1997), p. 192.

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Villahermosa, le comte d’Aranda, le Justicia55 et don Juan de Luna, seigneur de Purroy. L’armée délogea les deux premiers et les emmena dans des prisons castillanes où ils moururent mystérieusement l’année suivante. Le Justicia, don Juan de Lanuza, fut exécuté le 20 décembre 1591 sur la place du Marché de Saragosse. Don Juan de Luna, qui avait réussi à s’échapper, fut pris par les agents du roi. Il termina sa vie sur l’échafaud avec plusieurs de ses compagnons auxquels le pardon royal avait été refusé. En effet, le 18 janvier 1592 avaient été publiées les listes des « exclus du pardon royal ».56 Certains d’entre eux échappèrent à la condamnation à mort, soit parce qu’ils écopèrent de peines mineures, soit parce qu’ils s’enfuirent en France. Dans ces listes de condamnés, on retrouve beaucoup de noms figurant dans les extensions du Ms 1280 AHN : Miguel et Manuel Donlope, don Juan de Torrellas, le seigneur de Huerto, don Luis et don Miguel de Gurrea, don Pedro de Bolea, Juan Molés, Cavero de Ortilla, Pedro Martínez, Jerónimo García, Mateo y Jaime Villanueva, Pedro de Mur, don Francisco de la Cavallería, don Pedro de Híjar, micer Jerónimo López et micer Gazo.57 Mais tous les opposants au pouvoir royal ne figurent pas dans les listes des agitateurs de 1591. C’est le cas de certains ambassadeurs d’Aragon, d’hommes de loi, de députés du Royaume et de nobles cités précisément dans le Libro Verde. 2. 4. 1. Les ambassadeurs Tout au long des années précédant les événements de 1591, les Aragonais avaient envoyé plusieurs ambassades auprès de Philippe II afin 55

« Justicia : haut magistrat désigné par le roi parmi les membres de la noblesse, juge suprême qui était aussi chargé de dire le droit, d’interpréter les fueros et de qualifier les atteintes à ces mêmes fueros » (Joseph Pérez, Isabelle et Ferdinand, Rois Catholiques d’Espagne (Paris : Fayard, 1988), p. 30. 56 Gonzalo Céspedes, Historia apologética en los sucesos del Reyno de Aragón y su ciudad de Zaragoza, años de 1591 y 1592 (Sevilla : S. Rodríguez Muñoz, 1978); Marqués de Pidal, Historia de las alteraciones de Aragón en el reinado de Felipe II (Madrid: J. Martin Alegria, 1862); Bartolomé Leonardo de Argensola, Alteraciones populares en Zaragoza año de 1591 (Saragosse : Institución « Fernando el Católico », 1996), original: 1624; François Mignet, Antonio Pérez y Felipe II. Entre la leyenda negra y la historia (Madrid : La Esfera de los Libros S.L., 2001), pp. 35-255; Gregorio Marañón, Antonio Pérez (Madrid : Espasa-Calpe S.A., 1998); Encarna Jarque, José Antonio Salas, Las alteraciones de Zaragoza en 1591 (Saragosse : Astral, 1991). 57 Marqués de Pidal, Historia de las alteraciones de Aragón en el reinado de Felipe II, III, pp. 303-309.

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de lui présenter diverses requêtes. Ainsi, en 1570, la Diputación délégua l’abbé du monastère d’Alaón et Jerónimo Cabrero pour féliciter le roi à l’occasion de son mariage avec Anne d’Autriche. Cette représentation mit à profit son déplacement pour présenter au souverain un important mémorial dans lequel elle se plaignait des excès de don Martín de Moncayo et des officiers royaux à Téruel.58 Après la mort de don Martín d’Aragon, quatrième duc de Villahermosa, en 1581, son fils don Fernando d’Aragon envoya des émissaires auprès de Philippe II dans le but d’obtenir des précisions sur son héritage : d’abord, son cousin Juan de Paternoy, puis Luis Sánchez, gouverneur de son duché.59 En 1582, les Aragonais profitèrent du voyage effectué par le comte de Belchite et Pedro Torrellas à Lisbonne pour féliciter le monarque de sa réussite au Portugal et lui remettre un mémorial.60 Ces ambassades dépassèrent le cadre géographique de la Péninsule Ibérique : don Jerónimo de Albión et son assesseur, micer Romero, furent envoyés à Rome en 1572 pour présenter au pape Grégoire XIII un récit des événements de Téruel. Ils restèrent presque un an dans la cité papale.61 2. 4. 2. Les juristes Le juriste micer Juan Ibando de Bardají y Almenara, docteur émérite en droit et illustre citoyen de Saragosse, auteur de diverses œuvres – parmi lesquelles la Suma de los fueros y observancias del Reino de Aragón (1587) – fut un autre défenseur des lois aragonaises.62 Par ailleurs, ses œuvres, jugées trop partisanes par la royauté, ne furent publiées, pour la plupart, qu’à titre posthume.63 On relève également, dans le Ms 1282 58

Martín Almagro, Las alteraciones de Teruel, Albarracín y sus comunidades en defensa de sus fueros durante el siglo XVI (Teruel : Instituto de Estudios Turolenses de la Excelentísima Diputación Provincial de Teruel, 1984), p. 71. 59 Bartolomé Leonardo de Argensola, Alteraciones populares en Zaragoza año de 1591, pp. 205-207. 60 Gregorio Colás, José Antonio Salas, Aragón en el siglo XVI : alteraciones sociales y conflictos políticos, p. 562. 61 Martín Almagro, Las alteraciones de Teruel, Albarracín y sus comunidades en defensa de sus fueros durante el siglo XVI, pp. 99-100. 62 Félix Latassa, Miguel Gómez, “Bardaxí y Almenara, Juan Ibando de”, Biblioteca antigua y nueva de escritores aragoneses de Latassa aumentadas y refundidas en forma de diccionario bibliográfico-biográfico (Saaragosse : Universidad de Zaragoza, 2001) (CD non paginé). 63 Juan M. Sánchez, Bibliografía aragonesa del siglo XVI (Madrid: Arco Libros, 1914), II, pp. 222 et 476; Gregorio Colás, José Antonio Salas, Aragón en el siglo XVI : alteraciones sociales y conflictos políticos, p. 369; Christine Langé, Pouvoir

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AHN, la présence tacite du chroniqueur Jerónimo Martel y Losilla, dont seuls les parents, Agustín Martel et Catalina Losilla, sont mentionnés ainsi qu’une partie de sa généalogie ascendante paternelle. Nous nous souviendrons de cet Aragonais engagé qui perdit sa charge au début du XVIIe siècle et qui fut témoin de la destruction de ses Anales en 1609, accusé d’avoir donné à son œuvre une orientation clairement indépendantiste.64 Le prestigieux avocat Pedro Luis Martínez Cenedo, député en 1588-89, ne partageait pas non plus le point de vue royal et le fit savoir sans détour,65 d’où sa présence dans le Libro Verde.

royal, pouvoir foral. La capitainerie générale et le pleito du capitaine de guerre en Aragon, XVIe-XVIIe siècles, pp. 51 et 115 ; Jesús Gascón, Aragón en la monarquía de Felipe II, I. Historia y pensamiento (Saragosse : Publicaciones de Rolde de Estudios Aragoneses, 2007), p. 287. 64 Félix Latassa, Miguel Gómez, “Martel y Losilla, Jerónimo”, Biblioteca antigua y nueva de escritores aragoneses (CD non paginé); María Soledad Carrasco, El problema morisco en Aragón al comienzo del reinado de Felipe II (Madrid : Editorial Castalia, 1969), pp.17 et 23; Gregorio Colás, José Antonio Salas, Aragón en el siglo XVI : alteraciones sociales y conflictos políticos, p. 576; José Ignacio Gómez, La burguesía mercantil en el Aragón de los siglos XVI y XVII (1516-1652) (Saragosse : Diputación General de Aragón, Departamento de Cultura y Educación, 1987), p. 41; Jesús Gascón, Aragón en la monarquía de Felipe II. Historia y pensamiento (Saragosse : Publicaciones de Rolde de Estudios Aragoneses, 2007), I, p. 219; Latassa, Diccionario Bibliográfico-biográfico por Don Miguel Gómez Uriel; María Soledad Carrasco, El problema morisco en Aragón al comienzo del reinado de Felipe II (Madrid : Editorial Castalia, 1969), pp. 17 et 23; Gregorio Colás, José Antonio Salas, Aragón en el siglo XVI : alteraciones sociales y conflictos políticos, p. 576; José Ignacio Gómez, La burguesía mercantil en el Aragón de los siglos XVI y XVII (1516-1652) (Saragosse : Diputación General de Aragón, Departamento de Cultura y Educación, 1987), p. 41; Jesús Gascón, Aragón en la monarquía de Felipe II. Historia y pensamiento, I, p. 219. 65 Gonzalo Céspedes, Historia apologética en los sucesos del Reyno de Aragón y su ciudad de Zaragoza, años de 1591 y 1592, p. 95; Marqués de Pidal, Historia de las alteraciones de Aragón en el reinado de Felipe II, I, pp. 271-272; Juan M. Sánchez, Bibliografía aragonesa del siglo XVI, II, p. 413; Gregorio Colás, José Antonio Salas, Aragón en el siglo XVI : alteraciones sociales y conflictos políticos, p. 628; Ángel Sesma et José A. Armillas, La Diputación en Aragón. El gobierno aragonés, del Reino a la Comunidad Autónoma (Saragosse : Ediciones OroelArpesa, S.A., 1991), p. 211.

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2. 4. 3. Les nobles Si les nobles aragonais les plus titrés figurent dans la liste des « non absous par le pardon royal », d’autres nobles fueristas sont également mentionnés tout au long du Ms 1282 AHN. Par exemple, dans le paragraphe n° 91 qui décrit la descendance de doña María Sánchez de Toledo, apparaissent don Luis de Torrellas, son neveu don Juan de Torrellas ainsi que sa nièce doña Mariana de Torrellas, épouse de don Juan de Gurrea – fils de don Miguel de Gurrea, seigneur de Gurrea –, personnages qui furent très actifs lors du soulèvement de 1591. La maison des Torrellas n’avait-elle pas servi de lieu de réunion pour les fueristas la veille du 24 septembre 1591 ? 66 Le paragraphe n° 92, qui termine le Ms 1282 AHN, étudie la famille de don Jerónimo Cabrero. Ce député du « bras » des nobles s’était distingué lors des troubles de Téruel et Albarracín de 1553 à 1573, puis au cours de leur prolongation jusqu’aux Cortes de 1585. Il avait participé, en 1570, à une ambassade envoyée auprès de Philippe II, par laquelle étaient exprimées les plaintes des habitants de Téruel. Ces interventions concernent des événements antérieurs à 1591. D’autres problèmes qui se posèrent également avant 1591 sont évoqués dans les généalogies par la présence de Sebastián de Arbas, don Lope de Francia et don Francés de Ariño. Ces noms évoquent le souvenir d’une révolte de bourgeois contre des décisions inquisitoriales en ce qui concerne le premier, l’opposition au désarmement des Morisques pour les deux autres67. Toutes ces affaires sont du même ordre que la révolution de 1591 car elles constituent, elles aussi, l’expression de la résistance aragonaise à l’autoritarisme royal. La présence de nombreux fueristas, qui est évidente dans le Ms 1282 AHN, est plus discrète dans les Ms 18305 BNE et Ms 56-5-15 Biblioteca Colombina. On peut considérer toutefois qu’ils constituèrent, eux aussi, un instrument de délation contre les résistants aragonais vis-à-vis du pouvoir centralisateur.

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Gergorio Marañón, Antonio Pérez, p. 611, 613, 630 et 638. María Soledad Carrasco, El problema morisco en Aragón al comienzo del reinado de Felipe II, p. 16, 20-21, 24, 29, 32, 50-56, 62-67, 74-75, 82, 90, 104, 109, 115, 127, 131 et 137; Gregorio Colás, José Antonio Salas, Aragón en el siglo XVI : alteraciones sociales y conflictos políticos, p.74-77, 79, 90, 435, 450-452, 456, 458, 499, 503-504, 511-513, 516, 518-519, 545-546, 553-554, 559, 561-562, 569, 573, 578, 592 et 613-614.

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Conclusion Elaboré vers 1507 à partir de documents exhumés des archives inquisitoriales, le Libro Verde de Aragón a constitué une véritable arme de guerre aux mains de l’autorité royale. Il a été mis à profit en divers moments de l’Histoire pour discriminer des personnages gênant le pouvoir en place. En 1516-1517, il a servi à limiter le maintien des cadres « fernandistes » dans l’empire de Charles Quint. Vers 1550-1560, il a pu contribuer à éviter l’entrée de conversos aragonais dans la haute administration de Philippe II. Vers la fin du règne de ce dernier, il dénonce les fueristas aragonais lors de la révolte de 1591 contre l’autoritarisme royal. Enfin, dans le Portugal espagnol (1580-1640), il pointe du doigt les indépendantistes portugais face au pouvoir castillan.