Fourteenth-century Scotland was dominated by the Wars of Independence. In this conflict, Scotland’s towns were a key element of control for both sides. What effect this had on their inhabitants is somewhat difficult to ascertain, due to a lack of detailed evidence from the towns themselves. But English record evidence, for periods when these communities were under occupation, provides some insight into the participation of townspeople in the war going on around them. Berwick-upon-Tweed is perhaps the best example of an English-held town, due to its endurance as an English possession. Captured in 1296 by Edward I of England, it was not returned to Scottish allegiance until 1318. It only remained Scottish for another fifteen years before it fell to Edward III. And evidence for the period after 1333 provides quite detailed material on the experience of war for the Berwick townspeople and their martial involvement in the town’s defence.[1]
Berwick Castle Founded by David I in the twelfth century, this once mighty fortress changed hands several times during the prolonged and often bloody fighting between Scotland and England in the medieval period. Warfare, neglect and ultimately, the construction of the station and the railway bridge, reduced the castle to the ruin we see today. The fragment of the castle seen in the picture is known as “the White Wall”.
Keeping Berwick Safe?
The English, upon the town’s capture, were concerned about the loyalty of its Scottish inhabitants. Although the town’s garrison contained Scots who supported the alternative English-backed Balliol regime in the kingdom, the political affiliation of the townspeople was more dubious.[2] As a result, Edward III encouraged English people to settle in Berwick, sending letters to nineteen English towns and offering inducements to encourage such a move.[3] As late as 1337 Edward III remained worried about a lack of Englishmen and reissued his appeal for more migrants as ‘delay is dangerous.’[4] Those who did move may have recognised a need to participate in urban defence.
Richard Colle of Norham petitioned the king for a messuage in Berwick as a reward for good service in the Scottish wars, ‘so that he can henceforth have a certain income [to contribute to the] strength and defence of the town.’[5] And Henry Chesham petitioned the king to town land for a reduced rent so that he ‘could build on it and incur expenditure and live on it to the strengthening of the town.’[6] However, by 1342 such men may have grown tired of dependence on their efforts. For in this year Edward III sent orders that the burgesses of Berwick should no longer be retained in the defence of the town. This appears to have been in response to an appeal by the burgesses that they should not be required to provide military service. The Berwick administration’s response, however, only exacerbating the burgesses’ disquiet.
For felons were utilised in place of the townsmen as a means of replacing the lost manpower. This upset Berwick’s burgesses and merchants once again who duly complained to Edward III. But in this instance their protestations found a less sympathetic ear and the king rebuked the townsmen and ordered them not to interfere with the work of the king’s ministers. Indeed, it may have been the king himself who ordered the recruitment of felons for Berwick’s defence as orders of January 1343 suggest.[7] But local discontent with the town’s administration and defence may have been of longer standing. In 1341, the keepers of the town gates were accused of extorting merchants and stealing their produce. Edward III ordered Berwick’s constable and his ministers to desist such activity and ‘conduct themselves honourably.’[8] But such examples emphasise that relations between townsmen and administration were often fraught.
Conclusion
Berwick-upon-Tweed was a vital base for English forces in Scotland, as well as a political and economic prize. And yet, English efforts for its defence were often half-hearted, underfunded, and created tensions with the town’s populace. As late as 1349, the townsmen of Berwick were writing to Edward III complaining that they:
have often shown the king and the council the misfortunes and perils of their town, daily hoping that some remedy might be sent for their salvation, but they have found no relief, and are now abandoned and forgotten. Since all their earthly hope of recovery rests in the king, they inform him that the town was never in such peril since it came into his hands, because it is totally lacking in men and victuals. The Scots are greatly cheered because of the [Black Death]; they daily do all the injuries they can by land and sea, and capture victuals coming to the town from England. They have made ladders and other engines to come to the town, to try if they can to take it. The writers cannot resist their malice […] and they ask that help be quickly sent.[9]
Although likely an exaggeration of their situation, any threats to the town were a blow to English strategy and English pride. And in 1355 such fears were realised as the town’s walls were overcome by a surprise Scottish attack that, though ultimately unsuccessful, demonstrated weaknesses in Berwick’s defence. The townsmen of Berwick, therefore, likely had every right to be fearful and to consider that their safety remained insufficiently protected.
[1] For more on this period of conflict, and on Berwick in particular, see Iain A. MacInnes, Scotland’s Second War of Independence, 1332-1357 (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2016); J. Donnelly, ‘An open economy: the Berwick shipping trade, 1311-1373’, Scottish Historical Review, 96.1 (2017), 1-31; J. Donnelly, ‘An open port: the Berwick export trade, 1311-1373’, Scottish Historical Review, 78.2 (1999), 145-169; A. Tuck, ‘A Medieval Tax Haven: Berwick upon Tweed and the English crown, 1333-1461’, Progress and Problems in Medieval England: Essays in honour of Edward Miller, ed. R. Britnell and J. Hatcher (Cambridge, 1996), pp. 148-167.
[2] These included several Lothian-based knights and their followers, including Thomas Bisset, David and John Marshall, and Henry and John Ramsay (The National Archives, London, E101/22/9, f. 1).
[3]Rotuli Scotiae in Turri Londinensi et in Domo Capitulari Westmonasteriensi Asservati, ed. D. Macpherson et al. (London, 1814-19), i, p. 258; Tuck, ‘Medieval Tax Haven’, pp. 149-150.
[4]Calendar of Documents relating to Scotland: Supplementary volume v, ed. J. Galbraith and G.G. Simpson (Edinburgh, 1986), no. 767.
[5]Northern Petitions Illustrative of Life in Berwick, Cumbria and Durham in the Fourteenth century, ed. C.M. Fraser (Surtees Society, 1981), pp. 20-21.
The Middle English romance Off Arthour and of Merlin (AM) has been somewhat overlooked in terms of narrative because the main story consists of a sequence of battles considered repetitive and therefore boring.[1] Although it is true that the outcome of the battles is predictable (King Arthur and his knights will prevail), the text includes detailed descriptions and specific word choices of how this happens: Arthurian knights win because they have excellent fighting knowledge. Among them, Ywain, fighting to free London from the Saracens, demonstrates mastery of the blade from various binds (the time and position where opposing weapons are engaged). His skill is confirmed by the importance given to the topic in fight books.
Fig. 1.: Yvain Fighting. Detail of Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Français 1433, L’Atre périllieux et Yvain, le chevalier au lion, fol. 55 r , 1301-1350, <https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b105096493/f119.image.r=Yvain> [accessed 21 September 2020]. Image in the public domain.
The Manuscript
A unique copy of the romance AM is preserved in the Auchileck Manuscript at the National Library of Scotland in Edinburgh under the signature Advocates’ MS 19. 2. 1. Written exclusively in English,[2] it is of paramount importance for the history of English literature and literary taste in the first half of the fourteenth century. The manuscript is a miscellany of 44 secular and religious texts; among the former, there are eighteen romances. Linguistic, palaeographical, and internal evidence point to the origin of the manuscript being in London in the 1330s, where a rich merchant probably commissioned it.[3]
Although in its current state the Auchinleck MS comprises 331 leaves of 250×190 mm, codicological studies of both the manuscript and fragments thereof have revealed that it originally contained at least 386 leaves of 264×203 mm. The manuscript was compiled on vellum by five or six scribes in 48 quires of eight leaves each (with the exception of one gathering of ten).[4] Scribe α acted as the “editor” of the manuscript and wrote most of it. He also copied AM.[5]
Fig. 2.: A battle and a banquet. Detail of Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Français 1433, L’Atre périllieux et Yvain, le chevalier au lion, fol. B r , 1301-1350, <https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b105096493/f9.item.r=Yvain.zoom> [accessed 21 September 2020]. Image in the public domain.
The Romance
Although only surviving in the Auchinleck ms (fols 201rb-256vb), AM originates in late-thirteenth century London. The text, written in rhyming couplets and 9938 lines long, was introduced by an illumination, which has unfortunately been cut out (like many from the same manuscript). As a result, ten lines on the other side of the folio have been lost. A further 200 lines towards the end have also been lost due to a missing leaf; the text is otherwise intact and clearly readable.
The first third of the romance is concerned with the antecedents to Arthur’s reign and it is a close translation of the French Lestoire de Merlin.[6] The remaining two thirds are more autonomous and describe Arthur’s early reign as a sequence of protracted battle scenes, starting with kings of various territories in Great Britain (whose leader is Lot) rebelling to Arthur’s right to rule. Although Arthur wins two battles, the Rebel Kings still refuse to recognise him as their leader. However, the British internal fights must cease when each king, Arthur as well, must fight separate battles against external invading forces: Danes, Irish, Saxons and Angles, who in the text are typically collectively named ‘Saracens’.[7] The text focuses on two armies: one led by Arthur and the other by Gawain. Despite being Lot’s son, Gawain recognises Arthur legitimacy to rule. While Arthur is fighting in Leodegan’s lands (Leodegan is Guinevere’s father), Gawain, together with his brothers Gueheres, Agrevein, Gaheriet, and with his cousins Galathin and Yvain, leads an army in Arthur’s name to protect London. The romance ends with Arthur and Gawain being successful in freeing those key territories.
Fig. 3.: Gawain and his brothers at the gates of a castle. Detail of Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Français 122, Lancelot Graal, fol. 184 r , 1344-1345, <https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b10533299h/f377.item.r=Lancelot%20Graal.zoom> [accessed 29 September 2020]. Image in the public domain.
London
London is prominent in the romance. However, it is not described in detail and its political relevance is only inferred. Arthur holds court there for important and lavish occasions: he gives a feast ‘ƿat last ful fourten niȝt’ (l. 3582)[8] and a tournament in honour of Ban and Bohort (two of his late father’s allies) joining his legitimacy cause; it is also there that he celebrates his second victory against the Rebel Kings with another 14-days long feast. Furthermore, London is where he prepares against the Saracens’ invasion by ordering that every town should be supplied with food and by appointing a constable for each of them; Arthur focuses on London first, choosing Sir Do, an earl who already has experience in running a town, to administer it, rather than a knight who had distinguished himself in battle.
The text also offers some clues on the considerable size and cultural aspects of the town. The number of pack-horses (700), of carts (700), and of wagons (500) that were meant to supply London with food (but were robbed by Saracens instead) speaks of a large population. As a big city, London has a lot to offer, which is why Gawain, his brothers, and cousins decide to reside there for months after the first battle.
The population itself, and perhaps a glimpse of its political structure, only makes an appearance during the first battle for London. Seeing that Gawain and his army are bravely fighting against the Saracens but that they are greatly disadvantaged in numbers (1200 against 7000), Sir Do gathers the aldermen at the assembly point at Aldgate and quickly convinces them to raise their banners and go in support of Gawain with an army of 5000 men in total (both citizens and knights) ‘[f]or alle chaunce Londen to kepe’ (l. 5126).[9] Conversely, neither Sir Do nor the aldermen are mentioned as leaders of a London contingent in Gawain’s army in the second battle outside the town. The focus there is solely on Arthurian knights and their skills.
Fig. 4.: Yvain Fighting. Detail of Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Français 1433, L’Atre périllieux et Yvain, le chevalier au lion, fol. B r , 1301-1350, <https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b105096493/f9.item.r=Yvain.zoom> [accessed 21 September 2020]. Image in the public domain.
The Combat
Unsurprisingly, Arthur, Gawain, and the other Arthurian knights win against the invaders. However, the text does not assume that they are better a priori: it demonstrates it by employing specific choices in vocabulary and fight descriptions. King Arthur and his knights are very skilled fighters and they have a deep knowledge of fighting practices.
During the final battle for the control over London, Gawain admires Yvain’s fighting skill: ‘He [Gawain] hadde wonder of his [Yvain’s] pruesse | Þat so leyd doun hard and nesse’ (ll. 8165-66).[10] ‘Hard and nesse’ is interpreted by Macre-Gibson as ‘every sort of adversary’,[11] meaning both strong and weak ones (‘nesse’ means ‘weak’, ‘pliant or yelding’).[12] However, it is improbable that Gawain would commend Yvain for killing weak opponents; instead, it is much more likely that this sentence refers to Yvain’s ability to work from strong and weak binds. Simply put, depending on the circumstances, when two swords clash, the opponent can put a lot of pressure on the bind (i.e. a strong bind) or very little (i.e. a weak bind).[13] A follow-up attack from a specific bind will not necessarily have a positive outcome if executed from a different one. Immediately performing a successful attack depending on the type of bind is not easy; it requires understanding of blade mechanics and training. In the late-fourteenth century glosses to Liechtenauer’s verses, the anonymous author of Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, ms 3227a writes that knowing how to act according to the situation (whether it is a weak or a strong bind) is essential.
Vor, noch, swach, stark, indes: an den selben woerten leit alle kunst meister lichtnawers und sint dy gruntfeste und der kern alles fechtens […] Dy weile her denne ieme noch an syme swerte ist, […] zo sal her gar eben fuelen und merken ab iener […] an syme swerte weich ader hert, swach ader stark sey.[14]
[Before, after, weak, strong, indes: on these words lay master Liechtenauer’s entire art and they are the basis and core of all fencing […] While he [the fighter] is still on [the opponent’s] sword, […] he shall quite precisely feel and note whether the other is soft or hard, weak or strong on his sword.][15]
Fig. 5.: Detail of Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, ms 3227a, fol. 20r, late fourteenth- century, <http://dlib.gnm.de/item/Hs3227a/45> [accessed 18 July 2020]. Image permitted to be copied, modified, and used for non-commercial purposes (cf. <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/de/>).
Just a couple of lines before Gawain’s assessment of his cousin’s fighting skill, the audience is told that Yvain kills many enemies in various ways: he cuts two enemies at the waist, decapitates other two, and inflicts fatal wounds to a fifth.[16] This demonstrates that Yvain is able to employ different and successful techniques depending on the circumstances. By mentioning that he can use to his advantage both strong and weak binds and that he kills all his enemies, Yvain’s fighting skills are emphasised: he clearly knows what he is doing.
Conclusion
In Off Arthour and of Merlin, Arthurian knights save London from the invaders not because they are implicitly better fighters, but because they demonstrate better fighting skills and knowledge. This is achieved through the choice of specific vocabulary that finds parallels in fight books, and therefore by creating links and associations between two literary genres that approached martial culture from a different perspective. For Yvain, this is expressed through his mastery of the bind.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Macrae-Gibson, O. D., ed., Of Arthour and of Merlin, 2 vols (London: Oxford University Press, 1979)
Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalbibliothek, ms 3227a <http://dlib.gnm.de/item/Hs3227a> [accessed 18 August 2020]
Secondary Sources
Bliss, Alan Joseph, ed., Sir Orfeo (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966)
Byrne, Aisling, ‘West and East: The Irish Saracens in Of Arthur and of Merlin’, Nottingham Medieval Studies, 55 (2011), 217-229
Hanna, Ralph, ‘Auchinleck ‘Scribe 6’ and Some Corollary Issues’, in The Auchinleck Manuscript: New Perspectives, ed. by Susanna Fein (York: York Medieval Press, 2016), pp. 209-221
Liedholm, Astri, A Phonological Study of the Middle English Romance Arthour and Merlin (Ms Auchinleck) (Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1941)
‘nesse’, in Middle English Dictionary [online], <https://quod.lib.umich.edu/m/middle-english-dictionary/dictionary/MED29350/track?counter=1&search_id=4141698> [accessed 18 August 2020]
Pearsall, Derek, and Cunningham, I. C. (eds), The Auchinleck Manuscript: National Library of Scotland Advocates’ MS 19.2.1 (London: Scholar Press, 1977)
Ramey, Lynn Tarte, Christians,Saracen and Genre in Medieval French Literature (New York and London: Routledge, 2001)
Sklar, Elizabeth, ‘Arthour and Merlin: The Englishing of Arthur’, Michigan Academician: Papers of the Michigan Academy of Science, Arts, and Letters, 8: 1 (1975), 49-57
Schmidt, Herbert, Sword Fighting: An Introduction to Handling a Long Sword, trans. by David Johnston (Atglen: Schiffer Publishing)
[1] O. D. Macrae-Gibson, ed., Of Arthour and of Merlin, 2 vols (London: Oxford University Press, 1979), II, p. 9; Astri Liedholm, A Phonological Study of the Middle English Romance Arthour and Merlin (Ms Auchinleck) (Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1941), p. xxi.
[2] In The Sayings of the Four Philosophers there are ‘Anglo-Norman macaronics’ and Latin insertions are present in The Harrowing of Hell, Speculum Gy de Warewke, and David þe King (Derek Pearsall, and I. C. Cunningham (eds), The Auchinleck Manuscript: National Library of Scotland Advocates’ MS 19.2.1 (London: Scholar Press, 1977), p. viii).
[3] Alan Joseph Bliss, ed., Sir Orfeo (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966), pp. ix-x; Laura Hibbard Loomis, ‘The Auchinleck Manuscript and a Possible London Bookshop of 1330-1340’, in Publications of the Modern Language Association of America, 75: 3 (1942), 595-627, p. 601; 627; Macrae-Gibson, II, p. 62; Pearsall and Cunningham, p. vii.
[4] A recent study proposes that the writing hand identified as the sixth actually should be understood as a second moment in scribe α’s writing (Ralph Hanna, ‘Auchinleck ‘Scribe 6’ and Some Corollary Issues’, in The Auchinleck Manuscript: New Perspectives, ed. by Susanna Fein (York: York Medieval Press, 2016), pp. 209-221).
[6] Elizabeth Sklar, ‘Arthour and Merlin: The Englishing of Arthur’, Michigan Academician: Papers of the Michigan Academy of Science, Arts, and Letters, 8: 1 (1975), 49-57 (pp. 52-54).
[7] In high and late medieval literature, it is not unusual to find that the term ‘Saracens’ designates any type of foreigners, rather than a specific group of people from the Near East. In AM, this idea of otherness is strongly connected to the emerging sense of a national language and identity present both in other parts of the romance (cf. ll. 21-22: ‘Riȝt is ƿat Inglische vnderstond | ƿat was born in Inglond’; Macrae-Gibson, I, pp. 3-5) and in other Middle English texts of the same period: ‘Saracen’ means ‘the Other’, ‘the non-British’ (Aisling Byrne, ‘West and East: The Irish Saracens in Of Arthur and of Merlin’, Nottingham Medieval Studies, 55 (2011), 217-229 (pp. 218-19); Lynn Tarte Ramey, Christians,Saracen and Genre in Medieval French Literature (New York and London: Routledge, 2001), p. 8).
[12] ‘nesse’, in Middle English Dictionary [online], <https://quod.lib.umich.edu/m/middle-english-dictionary/dictionary/MED29350/track?counter=1&search_id=4141698> [accessed 18 August 2020]).
[13] Herbert Schmidt, Sword Fighting: An Introduction to Handling a Long Sword, trans. by David Johnston (Atglen: Schiffer Publishing), pp. 30; 132.
[14] Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalbibliothek, ms 3227a, fol. 20r-v.
[15] Transcription and translation are mine. The editorial principles are the following: abbreviations have been silently expanded, the letters u and v have been modified according to modern standards, and the punctuation has been made in accordance with the translation.
In 1532 the Holy Roman Empire was on the march. Three years after the long, bloody and ultimately successful defence of Vienna in 1529 another large Ottoman army was on its way, led by Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent and trying to finish the tasked left undone.[1] To meet this threat, the Imperial Diet in Regensburg called for troops from the Imperial Estates, a so-called ‘eilende Türkenhilfe’ (emergency relief force to help against the Turks). The Imperial Army, which had not always proven to be a fast or efficient force,[2] raised about 6000 horsemen and 30.000 foot-soldiers. However, the fortunes of war prevented a big battle, as the Ottoman army was halted by the Hungarian fortress of Kőszeg (then known by its German name Güns). The major Ottoman host retreated south, but smaller contingents remained and raided the surrounding country. Such a group of roughly 8000 men was defeated at Leobersdorf (in today’s Lower Austria) by Imperial troops. This remained their only major battle and with the threat gone, the Imperial army dissolved in October 1532.
The aim of this short essay is to examine one of the contingents sent to the Imperial Army. The Imperial City of Cologne, located on the left bank of the river Rhine in modern Northern Rhine-Westfalia, Germany, was one of the biggest cities north of the Alps. After the formal recognition of its status as an Imperial Estate in 1475, its military and financial resources were frequently used by the Habsburg Emperors for their numerous wars.[3] Troops from Cologne served for the Empire in Maximilian’s wars in Flanders in 1477, in the war against the Hungarian King Matthias Corvinus in 1482, in another campaign in Flanders against Bruges to liberate the imprisoned Maximilian in 1488, in the siege of Arnhem in 1505 and in the campaign against the outlawed knight Franz von Sickingen in 1517. Therefore, the army raised to defend the Empire in 1532 belongs in the context of this tradition.
Troops from Cologne guarding an execution in 1587. Detail of: Franz Hogenberg, Execution of Hieronymus Michiels in Cologne, 1587. Rijskmuseum Amsterdam, RP-P-OB-78.785-230. (CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0) license).
One may wonder why this campaign deserves a closer analysis, as the contribution of Cologne to the outcome of the war was minimal, if not insignificant. For that very reason, the focus lies not on the activities of the city’s men in Austria, but on the composition of this army as such. The archives of Cologne keep a little booklet entitled as Monster zedell (inspection paper), that lists all 500 men, who took part in the campaign.[4] In the document, they are called landtzknecht though we might not necessarily suspect them to be professional or battle-worn soldiers. Their leaders are Andreas of Esslingen, most likely a south German mercenary, and Johann vom Hirtz, a member of a well-established family of the city’s elite. In fact, all of these men were paid for their service. The employment of paid men to guard the city’s walls and to fight the city’s conflicts is a practice that, in the case of Cologne, dates back to the late 13th century. Yet this does not imply in any way, that the city relied on ‘foreign’ troops to keep it safe, but often employed its own citizens as mercenaries.[5] Thus, paid men cannot easily be equated with foreigners, as traditional military history has abundantly done.[6]
One of the aims in the analysis of the Cologne army of 1532 is to highlight this statement, supplemented by the question from which areas the mercenaries came. To answer both a presumption has to be made – one that is important to the argument but cannot be ultimately proven. The great majority of the men enlisted in the Monster zedell are named after places, so-called toponymical surnames. Examples are Daim van Guylich (of Jülich), Hanß van Covelens (of Koblenz) or Hanß Arndtz van Norenberch (of Nuremberg). Such names usually imply an origin from a certain city or region, but do not always prove where the person was born. This can be demonstrated by taking a quick look at the elite of Cologne in the examined period, where families such as the von Siegen, von Heimbach or von Stralen can be found. They might have migrated from the places their toponymical surnames refer to and were named after them when arriving in Cologne, but these surnames were passed on to their families. Therefore, in 1532 e.g. Arnold von Siegen, several times mayor of Cologne, was born citizen of this city and not of Siegen.
This process and information is important to the following analysis. However, while not every man with a toponymical surname might actually originate from that town, there is a strong indication that this still holds true for the majority of the mercenaries. If we consider the 35 men called ‘from Düren’ or the 38 men called ‘from Cologne’ it becomes obvious that we are not dealing with huge families collectively enlisting but with a group of men from the same place.
Out of the total of 500 men 288 could be assigned to 106 (identifiable) places. Their medium distance from Cologne is 89.83 km, but many of them are located in the Rhineland region close to the city. The majority of places (69 in total) is just mentioned once, 12 are mentioned twice and 9 three times. This geographical distribution gets more precise if we now extract the 17 places mentioned the most. They provided 168 landsknechts, thus only 16 % of the places provided 58.33 % of the 288 men that could be assigned. Leading amongst them is Cologne itself with 38 men, followed by Düren (42 km Distance from Cologne) with 35 men. Next are Linnich (53 km) with 14, Jülich (46 km) with 13 and Nijmegen (135 km) with eight men. Seven mercenaries came from Aachen (71 km) and Euskirchen (35 km), six from Geldern (85 km) and Kempen (66 km), five from Herzogenrath (68 km) and Neuss (37 km), four from Bergheim (25 km), Bonn (28 km), Kerpen (23 km), Sittard (83 km), Wijk bij Duurstede (179 km) and Zons (24 km). Thus, the majority of men came from a medium distance of just 58.82 km. More than every tenth originated from Cologne itself.[7] Besides this strong regional aspect, there is a minority, which came from rather distant places such as Trier (155 km), Frankfurt (173 km), Osnabrück (188 km), Delft (243 km), Bruges (288 km) or Nuremberg (382 km), but all of these cities are mentioned only once.
In conclusion we see that the army of 500 landsknechte the city of Cologne fielded in 1532 was in large parts drawn together from the city itself and the surrounding Rhineland with a clear emphasis on the left bank of the river. In this region, the city could rely on its longstanding network spanning the lands between the Rhine and the North Sea. At the same time, it is clear that even in the age of the mercenary an army raised based on paid service could still have strong local ties. Constructing a clear opposition between the local militiaman and the foreign mercenary, as Niccolò Machivelli so famously did in his Il Principe (Cap. XII) is an unsuitable simplification, that should be avoided by modern research.
[1] A brief contextualisation of this campaign can be found in: Alfred Kohler, Das Reich im Kampf um die Hegemonie in Europa 1521–1648 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1990), pp. 13-14.
[2] The best in-depth study of Imperial Armies to date has been written by Patrick Leukel, „all welt wil auf sein wider Burgundi“ Das Reichsheer im Neusser Krieg 1474/75 (Paderborn: Schöningh, 2019), who outlines the problems involved in raising an Empire-wide army.
[3] Brigitte Maria Wübbeke, ‘Die Stadt Köln und der Neusser Krieg 1474/75‘, Geschichte in Köln, 24 (1988), 35-64.
[4] Historisches Archiv der Stadt Köln, Best. 50 (Köln und das Reich (K+R)), A 30.
[5] A practice that will be discussed in detail in my forthcoming dissertation of Cologne’s late medieval elite.
[6] The distinguished military historian Charles Oman, to give one of many possible examples, called the mercenary “A stranger to all the nobler incentives to valor, an enemy to his God and his neighbor, the most deservedly hated man in Europe.” Charles W. Oman, The Art of War in the Middle Ages, ed. and rev. by John H. Beeler (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1953), pp. 65-66.
[7] One might argue that all those men without toponymical surnames might also be inhabitants of Cologne and thus there was no need to note their place of origin. Yet this is a hypothesis that can only be proven by a prosopographic in-depth analysis.
This article deals with the number of cases of duels and the social distribution of duellists in French-speaking Switzerland in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
Traité sur les duels d’Henri Basnage de Beauval, 1740 [Private collection]
The number of cases of duels noted in the sources is to be considered as an indication. This is a recurring factor in the history of crime, with many crimes escaping justice. Laws and admonitions, notably from the Geneva Consistory, or the comments sometimes-accompanying draft Fribourg laws effectively suggest that the duels were more than what the sources suggest. However, the information provided by the latter remains sufficient to represent the protagonists of these events, the reasons or the rituals in force.
Thirty-two duelling cases were recorded for the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in the cantonal archives of Geneva, Fribourg, Lausanne, Bern, Neuchâtel and Sion, as well as in the archives of the former Bishopric of Basel. As it is to be expected, it is the documents concerning legal proceedings, which mainly preserve the memory of these duels, although the Manuals of the Council of State of Neuchâtel, the Registers of the Council of Geneva or the Accounts of the Treasurer of Fribourg also testify to cases of armed confrontation.
The distribution of the number of registered cases is not homogeneous, testifying in this manner to fluctuating social violence but also to uneven population densities and controls whose effectiveness and rigor differed greatly from one region to another. It was in Geneva, subject to the Savoy Wars at the end of the sixteenth century, was inhabited or visited by many reformed foreign noblemen and whose urban context facilitated both tensions and a coercive organization more attentive than in the countryside than the number of duels was most important with eighteen cases.[1] In comparison, Fribourg has only seven[2], the Pays de Vaud five[3], Neuchâtel two[4] and Valais only one[5] case. The Jura, meanwhile, has no case of duel listed in its archives to our knowledge.
Fig. 1: Sociology of duels in Geneva. Segments respectively translate as: foreign nobles, patricians of Geneva, common people, soldiers, students.
Geneva seems to occupy a special place, since more than half of the duels listed in French-speaking Switzerland take place within its walls or generally in what can be considered as the grounds of the city. Of the eighteen cases of duels or challenges to a duel noted in Geneva, seven concern nobles including six foreigners, seven involved Geneva patricians, five common people, craftsmen or small traders, four involved soldiers, and one theology students.
Fig. 2: Sociology of duels in different French-speaking Swiss regions. Segments respectively translate as: nobles, foreigners, the bourgeois, soldiers, common people, students.
The thirty-three cases of duels or duel challenges recorded in the various regions of French-speaking Switzerland also give us ten examples involving nobles, seven foreigners, eleven the bourgeois, nine the soldiers, five common people, and one students .
The upper class, nobility or bourgeoisie, thus seems to be the main group involved in duels. However, these do not necessarily take place only between nobles or between bourgeois. Both meet indiscriminately from their social class, the latter being a just cause for battle.
[1] They take place in 1580, 1598, two duels (no dates, early seventeenth century), 1603, 1611, 1616, 1652, 1657, 1657, 1658, 1659, 1660, 1664, 1665, 1666, 1681 and 1684. AEG, R. C., 1580, vol. 75, f. 115 v ; 1598, vol. 93, f. 108 ; 1611, vol. 111, f. 113 ; 1652, vol. 151, f. 322 ; 1657, vol. 157, f. 131 ; 1658, vol. 158, f. 76 – 77 ; 1660, vol. 160, f. 102v ; 1664, vol. 161, f. 104 ; 1681, vol. 158, f. 28 ; 1684, vol 184, f. 162 – 163 ; 1684, vol. 184, f. 167 – 168 ; 1684, vol. 184, f. 167 – 168, 178 – 179 ; 1685, vol. 185, f. 12 – 13, 16, 25 – 26, 75, 82. AEG, P. C., 1ère série, No. 3600 et 2ème série, No 2097, 2693. AEG, Minutes des Registres du Conseil, 1659, vol. 58, f. 80v – 81v ; 1664, vol. 59, f. 68v ; 1665, vol. 59, f. 178v. AEG, R. Cons., 1684, vol. 65, f. 224. Voir également Louis Dufour-Vernes, Les Défenseurs de Genève à l’Escalade, dans M.D.G., tome VIII, 1902, p. 64, 109. Journal d’Esaie Colladon, mémoires sur Genève 1600-1605, Genève, 1883, p. 77. Lucien Faggion, Points d’honneur, poings d’honneur, violences quotidiennes à Genève au XVIIème siècle, 1656–1667, dans Revue du Vieux – Genève, 1989, pp. 15 – 25. Eugène-Louis Dumont, En 1684, un duel met en émoi la ville : le fils d’un premier ministre anglais et un Genevois tirent l’épée à la Taconnerie, dans Revue du Vieux – Genève, 1976, pp. 81 – 83.
[2] 1561, 1612, 1625, 1646, 1648, 1664, one duel (no date, end of the seventeenth century). AEF, Cmpte. Très., No. 317, 1561, f. 4 : Amende du secrétaire Yblet qui a défié (qqn.) en duel, 10 livres. AEF, Cmpte. Très., No. 420, 1625, f. 119. AEF, R. M., No. 197, 1646, f. 30 : Renvoi de femmes néerlandaises avec leurs enfants à cause des duels de leur mari. 6 livres ; No 197, 1646, f. 30 ; No 197, 1646, f. 30 ; No 199, 1648, f. 265 ; No 215, 1664, f. 293. Voir également Tobie De Raemy, Le chancelier Techtermann, dans Archives de la société d’Histoire du canton de Fribourg, No 10, Fribourg, 1915, p. 416. Philippe Cyrice Bridel mentions a duel at Charmey at the end of the seventeenth century in his travel account.
[3] 1624, one duel (no date, seventeenth century), 1651, 1662. ACV, Bh4. 4. Bb 25/8, f. 152. Ba 33/4, f. 57-58. AEB, A II, 419 (RM 108), 217.
[4] 1576, 1644. AEN, Manuel du Conseil d’Etat, 1576-1584, f. 31 v. Manuel du Conseil d’Etat, 1639-1645, f. 162 v.
What has dog poo to do with medieval warfare? According to a drawing in a late medieval pictorial manuscript, the answer to this sticky question is: a lot (fig. 1)!
Fig. 1: On the use of dog poo for the production of saltpetre, Zürich, Zentralbibliothek, Ms. Rh. Hist. 33b, fol. 40v.
Since the introduction of firearms in mid-fourteenth century “Europe”, the demand for saltpetre as the indispensable raw material for gunpowder had been soaring. As the natural occurrence of potassium nitrate was scarce, it became a common practice to use manure as an alternative “natural” source.1 And, as the colourful drawing of the happily pooing dog illustrates, it seems that canine manure was highly valued for its nitrificational properties. In what follows, I would like to use the case of dog poo as a starting point to discuss the role and significance of animals in medieval warfare and martial culture as it is presented in the so-called Ms. Rh. Hist. 33b, an illustrated manuscript on medieval war technology from the Zentralbibliothek Zürich. This compendium on late medieval war technology is an odd document. It’s one of the few still existent serially produced pictorial manuscripts that were produced in the first half of the fifteenth century for low-budget buyers.2 The manufacturers tapped into a huge pool of warfare knowledge that was concocted by the mixture of ancient authorities, professional experience and popular lore. And so, through our copy, which addressed not only lords and urban elites, but a broader audience, we get a glimpse of popular warfare culture. 3
Fig. 2: On the use of horse traps, Zürich, Zentralbibliothek, Ms. Rh. Hist. 33b, fol. 115v.
A Kingdom for a Horse?
When we think about medieval warfare, there is one animal that immediately springs to mind: the warhorse. 4 Shakespeare wrote famously about the almost priceless value of a horse on the battlefield, but many medieval epic texts also celebrated famous valiant steeds and their deeds. In real life, if you wanted to impede your opponent’s cavalry it was important to know about a horse’s weak spot: its legs. Two drawings highlight quite vividly how horses could be effectively targeted by hurting their legs (fig. 2 and 3). The gruesome depiction of the bleeding fetlocks and the breaking knees gives us an idea of how horses could be intentionally hurt or fatally wounded for tactic purposes. Yet, if we want to understand medieval warfare culture, we have to talk not only about horses and dogs, but also cats, cows, sheep, and pigeons, in short: the whole diversity of the animal realm that was used and misused in times of war, siege or battle.
Fig. 3: On the use of horse traps, Zürich, Zentralbibliothek, Ms. Rh. Hist. 33b, fol. 116r.
The Animal Spectrum
If we look at the range of animals depicted in the manuscript’s 336 drawings, it becomes clear that animals contributed both actively and passively to late medieval warfare in very different ways. We learn about horses, mules, and donkeys who added their working force to human mobility, transport and infrastructure. At the same time, animals such as dogs, sheep or cows were used because of their value as commodity (manure, leather, wool etc.). What this manuscript brings to our attention in addition to these obvious functional aspects of animal contributions is their weaponization. A memorable example is the use of urban cats as arsonists in the context of sieges (fig. 4). The drawing shows how you should catch local cats roaming outside the town wall and set fire to their tails. This practice builds on the fact that the cats would instinctively hide inside the town wall and eventually set fire to the occupied town. 5 A similar tactic involved pigeons. They could be used as flying carriers of little firebombs by attaching a burning bundle to their feet. Even if we dismiss these brutal examples of weaponized animals as figments of booksellers who wanted to add entertainment value to increase the demand for such manuscripts, we still have to consider the role of these animal warfare stories in the wider context of popular warfare culture.
Fig. 4: On the use of cats to set fire to a town, Zürich, Zentralbibliothek, Ms. Rh. Hist. 33b, fol. 131r.
Toward an Animate History of Warfare and Martial Culture
The vivid drawings in Ms. Rh. Hist. 33b can be used as a reminder of the importance of animals in medieval warfare, in both practical and cultural terms. In that sense, the manuscript does not give us a how to-guide to medieval warfare but should be understood as a compendium advocating tactical and technological resourcefulness. Animals contributed to the way battles were fought, sieges were held, and wars were lost and won: As commodity, as working force, as targets, and as weapons. They were used because of their physical strength, their skin, their excretions, but also because of their flight and survival instincts. By integrating animal contributions into our analysis of warfare culture we might get a more holistic idea of medieval martial culture. The argumentation should not just revolve around questions of agency or non-agency, but rather enlarge the scope of different “doings” in the context of war. This leads towards an approach that can be understood as an “Animate History”6 of warfare and martial culture: A historical perspective that focuses on the complex and interrelated effects, deeds, and contributions of human and non-human lives. Never underestimate the power of dog shit!
1 See Jack Kelly, Gunpowder: Alchemy, Bombards, and Pyrotechnics. The History of the Explosive That Changed the World (New York: Basic Books, 2004), p. 33.
2 For the serial illuminated manuscript production see Lieselotte E. Stamm, ‘Auftragsfertigung und Vorratsarbeit: Kriterien zu ihrer Unterscheidung am Beispiel der Werkstatt Diebold Laubers’, Unsere Kunstdenkmäler : Mitteilungsblatt für die Mitglieder der Gesellschaft für Schweizerische Kunstgeschichte = Nos monuments d’art et d’histoire : bulletin destiné aux membres de la Société d’Histoire de l’Art en Suisse = I nostri monumenti storici : bollettino per i membri della Società di Storia dell’Arte in Svizzera, 36/3 (1985), p. 302–309. For a description of Zentralbibliothek Zürich, Ms. Rh. Hist. 33b see Giulio Grassi, ‘Ein Kompendium spätmittelalterlicher Kriegstechnik aus einer Handschriftenmanufaktur (ZBZ, Ms. Rh. hist. 33b)’, Technikgeschichte, 63/3 (1996), p. 195–217. For a general discussion of “artes belli” see Rainer Leng, Ars belli. Deutsche taktische und kriegstechnische Bilderhandschriften und Traktate im 15. Und 16. Jahrhundert, (Wiesbaden: Reichert Verlag, 2002).
3 The manuscript itself offers both options: it addresses urban elites („Wie man stet leren sol, das sich der herschaft erwerent wol“, fol. 1v) and lords („Wie man herren underwissen sol, daz sy sich der stet erwerent wol“, fol. 2r).
4 See Ann Hyland, The Warhorse. 1250-1600, (Stroud: Sutton Publishing, 1998), and Ann Hyland, The Horse in the Middle Ages, (Stroud: Sutton Publishing, 1999).
5 For more details on the use of cats see Nürnberger Codex MS. 25801, fol. 16v: „Wiltu wissen ain andern satz | so vach uff ain lebent katz | die uß der stat komen sy | mach ain für seklin da by, | und bind dz der katzen an den swantz | ich verstand unwol disen tantz.“
6 For an introduction of the concept of “Animate History” see Gesine Krüger, Aline Steinbrecher, Clemens Wischermann (ed.): Tiere und Geschichte. Konturen einer Animate History, (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2014).
On December 10, 1579, the city of Augsburg
executed Paulus Hector Mair for the embezzlement of between 32,000 and 40,000
guilders during his forty-two-year career as a civic servant and treasurer. [i]
On December 14, Augsburg officials and citizens gathered to begin an exhaustive
inventory of Mair’s possessions. The inventory took weeks to compile and
culminated in large public sales held in January and May 1580, during which the
vast collections of books, martial artefacts, arms, armor, and artwork that
Mair had amassed would be liquidated, along with even his smallest and most
personal articles.
Though Mair died in disgrace, his legacy looms
large within histories of martial culture and practice, and he is well-known to
both scholars and martial arts practitioners. Benedikt Mauer’s article on the
contents of Mair’s book and art collection has offered an overview of Mair’s
impressive library and its context. Jeffrey Forgeng and Kazuhiko Kusudo have illuminated
aspects of Mair’s biography and involvement in martial culture and sporting
activities.[ii]
Most recently, Daniel Jaquet presented a cross-cultural comparison between
Mair’s De Arte Athletica and the Chinese martial treatise of Qi Jiguang,
examining the reception of each body of work by modern martial arts
communities.[iii]
However, most scholarship on Mair and his
collection has focused on the Fechtbücher, or fight books, that he amassed,
compiled, authored, and commissioned. Few studies have engaged meaningfully
with the other categories of art and material culture that Mair’s posthumous
inventories list or considered how these objects—and the Augsburgers who
gathered to count or purchase them—reveal new facets of Mair’s involvement in
the martial culture of his city.
Fig. 1: Christoph Weiditz the Younger, hand-colored by circle of Jörg Breu the Younger, Paulus Hector Mair, from the Geschlechterbuch der Stadt Augsburg, circa 1540s, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek Cod. icon 312b, fol. 64v.
Paulus Hector Mair and his City
Though his precise dates of birth and
parentage remain unclear, Paulus Hector Mair was born into an upwardly mobile
family around 1517.[iv] He began his career in the city administration
of Augsburg in 1537, and he oversaw the finances of the civic works from 1541.
During the 1540s and 1550s, Mair increasingly devoted his energies to
collecting weapons, images, books, and armor, and to compiling, writing, and
publishing works related to martial knowledge. The works that he commissioned
also dealt with the histories of martial sport—as in the histories of the
tournament contained in De Arte Athletica—and in claiming knightly
identity for the citizens of Augsburg—as in the Geschlecterbuch der Stadt
Augsburg (fig. 1).[v]
Mair was an avid social climber, forging connections to members of the most
powerful patrician families of the city, such as the Johann Jakob Fugger, to
whom he dedicated the Geschlecterbuch.[vi]
In death, also, Mair reveals aspects of
Augsburg’s social networks and the material culture that surrounded them. The documents preserved in the city’s archive
record counts of objects and estimates of their value given by numerous
citizens and others who gathered to take stock of Mair’s possessions in
preparation for their liquidation. Among those mentioned as “counting” objects
is one Antoni Pfeffenhauser. This is likely Anton Peffenhauser (1525–1603), one
of the last in a line of great Augsburg armorers, who created luxury armors for
the Holy Roman Empire’s elite.[vii]
In addition to this famous smith, the counters who gathered to take stock of
Mair’s property included Wilhelm von Montfort, a member of a venerable Swabian
noble family. Indeed, as Mauer has pointed out, Mair cultivated relationships
to both the patriciate of Augsburg and the high nobility of southern Germany.
Following his confession and death sentence in 1579, Duke Wilhelm V of Bavaria
(1548-1626) implored the city council to consider a less severe punishment for
Mair.[viii]
Martial Equipment: Old and New
Mair’s inventories take stock of the
possessions that he kept in his official apartments which stood adjacent to the
old Augsburg Rathaus.[ix]
Though most of Mair’s martial objects were found in two small rooms on the
ground floor, their distribution throughout his living quarters indicates their
importance to him.
As befit a citizen of Augsburg and a man of
his station, Mair owned armor. Indeed, all male citizens of Augsburg were
expected to have equipment on hand to arm themselves if need arose for the
city’s defense.[x]
However, Mair’s armors went beyond civic necessity. The inventory records one
new harness “together with its case and all that belongs to it,” valued at
fifteen guilders, suggesting a small garniture. This armor, along with two
“old” maces, was stored in Mair’s study, rather in the room on the ground floor
where most of his martial possessions were found. In this space, there were at
least two other armors, thirteen arming garments, two mail shirts stored
together with an old helmet, six old siege helmets, two “old, bad armors,” as
well as various bits of armor that were, despite being “old,” described as
“neat and clean” though dissimilar. [xi]
It remains unclear whether Mair acquired all of these objects for his own use,
or whether some, particularly those described as old, may have constituted a
collection of martial artefacts. The latter is a tantalizing possibility, given
the sensitivity to medieval martial traditions and material culture
demonstrated in Mair’s fight book commissions.[xii]
In addition to armors, Mair owned numerous
arms. As Kusudo has shown, Mair was involved in Augsburg’s lively
target-shooting societies, and one of his last works seems to have been his
chronicle on marksmanship, now in Wolfenbüttel.[xiii]
Mair was an enthusiastic participant in his city’s shooting societies for both
firearms and crossbows. Accordingly, his inventory and sales records list no
less than seven crossbows, many together with cranequins and bolts. Mair also
owned at least one matching pair of pistols, and at least four long guns. His
collection of bladed weapons was impressive, comprising 29 swords, many whose
pommels were ornamented with silver. Among these were longswords, at least one
two-handed sword, numerous rapiers, and many swords described as old. In
addition to these weapons, Mair owned at least three matching pairs of fencing
swords, appropriate for an author and collector of fight books. The inventory
contains tantalizing more echoes of Mair’s sumptuously illustrated martial
treatises. Foremost among these in my mind are “Six Yellow Messers.” Though this
description leaves the materiality of these blades unclear, the allusion to a
yellow-color evokes the wooden or leather-covered practice messers or dusacks
that are illustrated in Mair’s De Arte Athletica, where such sparring weapons
are universally represented with yellow pigment (fig. 2).
Beyond the obviously useful martial
equipment, Mair owned various curiosities whose value seems to have resided in
their age or, perhaps, their now-unknown stories. For instance, the inventory
records an “old Italian ball”—perhaps a cannonball—as well as the two maces
kept in a place of honor in Mair’s study alongside his best armor.[xiv]
Fig. 2: Jörg Breu the Younger and workshop, Fencing with Dussacks, from Paulus Hector Mair, De Arte Athletica, vol. I, circa 1545-55, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. icon. 393.1, fol. 100r.
Everyone loves a Bargain: The Buyers of Mair’s Collection
The sales of Mair’s possessions in January
and May 1580 distributed his collection of fight books, artworks, and martial
artefacts, along with the most mundane accoutrements of his professional home,
throughout the social strata of Augsburg. The records reveal the allure of
martial objects for even the city’s elite. David Roth, a member of a
prestigious family whose members had sat on the city council for decades,
purchased numerous bladed weapons, including a damaged pair of fencing swords,
daggers, and a Reitschwert with a silver pommel.[xv]
The plainer of Mair’s two Reitschwerter and one of his maces were
purchased by Wolff Vischer, chamberlain to Marcus Fugger, then head of the international
Fugger bank.[xvi]
Caspar Ettinger, who worked alongside Mair and the Fuggers in the civic
administration and who had also been involved in the inventory’s compilation,
seems to have been among those enthusiastic buyers who were undaunted by the
age of many of Mair’s objects. He acquired, for instance, a siege helmet, two
mail shirts, a brigandine or jack, a crossbow and three “bad, old armors,” as well
as artworks such as paintings. [xvii]
Perhaps most poignant among they buyers, though, are two his own five sons, Esaias
and Jakob Leonard, whose names appear alongside objects such as guns and pairs
of fencing swords. Though the council granted Jakob Leonard two of his father’s
guns free of charge, Esaias—who’d also had the grim task of contributing to the
inventory—paid three guilders to reclaim a pair of his father’s fencing swords.
An Inconclusive Conclusion
This contribution represents only a brief
overview of Mair’s expansive and diverse collection and its context. Though familiar
within the community of martial scholars and HEMA practitioners, the documents
surrounding Paulus Hector Mair’s collection and patronage, as well as his fall
and the liquidation of his assets, offer fertile and hitherto untilled soil. In
particular, further examination of Mair’s tangible world, beyond the manuscripts
that he collected and produced, will continue to shed new light on the ways
that martial objects and knowledge were collected, described, and circulated
through early modern towns.
[i] Benedikt Mauer, ‘Sammeln Und Lesen – Drucken Und
Schreiben. Die Vier Welten Des Augsburger Ratsdieners Paul Hector Mair’, in Medien
Und Weltbilder Im Wandel Der Frühen Neuzeit, ed. by Theresia Hörmann and
Wolfgang E.j. Weber, Documenta Augustana, 5 (Augsburg: Wißner, 2000), pp.
107-32. Due to revisions of the numbering system in the Stadtarchiv Augsburg
since Mauer’s publication, some of the document numbers now differ from those
cited in his chapter. For monetary comparison, a master carpenter in Augsburg
earned roughly 45 to 50 guilders per year.
[ii] Jeffrey L. Forgeng, ‘Owning the Art: The German Fechtbuch Tradition’,
in The Noble Art of the Sword: Fashion and Fencing in Renaissance Europe
1520-1630, ed. by Tobias Capwell (London: The Wallace Collection, 2012),
pp. 164–76; Jeffrey L. Forgeng, ‘The Martial Arts Treatise of Paulus Hector
Mair’, in Die Kunst Des Fechtens, ed. by Elizabeth Vavra and Matthias
Johannes Bauer (Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag Winter, 2017), pp. 267–83;
Kazuhiko Kusudo, ‘P.H. Mair (1517-1579): A Sports Chronicler in Germany’, in Sport
and Culture in Early Modern Europe, ed. by John McClelland and Brian
Merrilees (Toronto: Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 2009), pp.
339–54.
[iii] Daniel Jaquet, “Collecting Martial Art Knowledge on Paper in Early
Modern Germany and China: The Examples of Paulus Hector Mair and Qi Jiguang and
Their Reading in the 21st Century,” Martial Arts Studies, (9), pp.86–92. DOI: http://doi.org/10.18573/mas.101
[iv] Mark Häberlein et al., Augsburger Eliten des 16. Jahrhunderts:
Prosopographie wirtschaftlicher und politischer Führungsgruppen 1500-1620 (Berlin:
Akademie Verlag, 1996), 503-04; Mauer, 109.
[v] See, for instance, Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Codices
10825-10826, fol. 4v; Munich, Bayeriches Staatsbibliothek, Cod. icon 312 b.
[vii] Augsburg, Stadtarchiv, Urgichten K262, 1579-80, Inventarium 1579, p. 3, „Zalte
Antoni Pfeffenhaueser […] das Helden buch.“; Wendelin Boeheim, Meister
der Waffenschmiedekunst vom XIV bis ins XVIII Jahrhundert. Ein Beitrage zur
Geschichte der Kunst und Des Kunsthandwerks (Berlin: W. Moeser, 1897). 158-61. Surprisingly,
Peffenhauser appears only infrequently as a „counter“ and primarily counts
books, rather than armors. Tantalizingly, an “Antoni Plattner,” returns as a buyer
on January 22, Urgichten K262, Hector Mayers Nachlass Verstiegerung 1580, p.
33.
[ix] As Mauer has observed, this inventory records only the objects in
Mair’s quarters adjacent to the Rathaus, and omits any possessions located in
the family home he share with his wife, Felizitas Kötzler, am Kappeneck. Mauer, 110.
[xi] Urgichten, K262, Inventarium 1579, p. 20.
19 December, „Den Kemerlin auf dem Boden,“ „Zahlen Anthoni Nußhard umb 4- halb
harnische und ain doppelhandschen der Zugehör.“ The meaning
of doppelhandschen remains unclear, the term may describe exchange gauntlets or
reinforces.
[xii] See, for instance, the representation of fourteenth-century
clothing in images of sword-and-buckler fencing reproduced from earlier sources
in Augsburg Univeritäts/Oettingen-Wallersteinschebibliothek, Augsburg. Cod.
Cod. I.6.2.4. Mair, Paulus Hector and Jörg Breu the Younger, Collected
Fechtbuch, fols. 14r-v.
[xiv] Urgichten K 262, Inventarium 1579, p. 25, „Zalte Wilhelm von Mondfort, 1
[…] alten welschen aisen küglin“
[xv] Urgichten K262, Hector Mayers Nachlass Verstiegerung 1580, p. 25, „David
Roth […] 1 Reitschwert mit silber beschlagen […], 2 alte zerbrochne
Fechtschwerter und 2 dolchen“
[xvi] Urgichten K262, Hector Mayers Nachlass Verstiegerung 1580, p. 25, „Wolf Vischer,
herren Marcus Fugger’s kemer . . .ain Reitschwert.“
[xvii] Urgichten K262, Hector Mayers Nachlass Verstiegerung 1580, p. 21, 11 January, 1580, „Nota: Dem Herren Jo. Leo. Mayr dürch meine herren vere(h)t werden 2 feu(e)rbüchsen,“ at not cost; Urgichten K262, Hector Mayers Nachlass Verstiegerung 1580, p. 111, „Zalte Elaias Mayr […] 1 par fechtschw. R 3.-“; For other mentions of Ettinger in connection with the Augsburg mint, see Hildebrandt Reinhard, Quellen und Regesten zu den Augsburger Handelshäusern Paler und Rehlinger 1539-1642 : Wirtschaft und Politik im 16./17. Jahrhundert, Deutsche Handelsakten des Mittelalters und der Neuzeit, XIX (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1996), 1: 1539-1623, 195-96.
Sixteenth century Italy was a place of constant conflict and shifting political and military balances. Men of status such as Prospero Colonna, Francesco Maria I della Rovere and Ferrante Gonzaga, often served as condottieri, hired military commanders, and became renowned for their martial exploits. This was also the case for Ascanio della Corgna, a noble from Perugia and nephew to Pope Julius III. Ascanio became famous serving as a condottiero in numerous battles, for his ingenuity as a tactician and military engineer, and for his competence with arms both in battle as well as in tournaments.[1] His military career earned him the title of the marquis of Castiglione del Lago. An anonymous poet, contemporary to Corgna, referred to him as “vero figluol di Mars”, a true son of Mars, which highlighted his martial prowess and fierceness as a warrior, as well as his recognition as such.[2] His temper also led to his involvement in several judicial duels of honour.[3] Two of them gave and boosted his reputations as a lethal fencer: the first against Ugo di Carpegna and the second against Giovanni Taddei.
Against the
Count of Carpegna
Ascanio’s first famous duel was fought against Ugo, Count of Carpegna in the city centre of Bologna. The Count was the general of the military force that Ascanio had served in since 1535. A series of events caused offense to Ascanio, who then challenged his leader. The duel was conducted in the marble-laid yard above the step of the church of San Petronio. The choice of the location served as an elevated platform where the fighters would be visible to the large crowd of city dwellers and soldiers that had gathered at the base of the steps of San Petronio to watch the duel. The two fighters brought seconds, and Pietro Strozzi, another wealthy commander, acted as a referee to the duel. Both Ascanio and the Count of Carpegna were already experienced, skilled fencers, with the first having the advantage of youth and the latter of further experience. Each duelist fought with a sidesword and a slightly shorter one handed sword. The duel was bloody and lasted several rounds. Strozzi stopped the duel several times, usually because the Count was injured and enquired if satisfaction had been achieved for della Corgna. The duelists exchanged insults, with the Count of Carpegna accusing Ascanio he challenged him to gain fame and that Ascanio’s requests for him to yield were impossible because they were beneath his status. Eventually with the intervention of the referee and their seconds, the two men reached a compromise and the Count apologised. Ascanio had just defeated his commander, a man of notable status and martial fame in front of the town of Bologna.
The “duel of the
century”
Ascanio della Corgna’s second duel took place in Pitigliano, near Perugia, on 26 May 1546.[4] The fight was so ferocious and attracted so much attention that was popularized already by contemporary and early modern historians as “il duello del secolo”, the duel of the century. Ascanio challenged one of his military subordinates to a duel, a younger Florentine noble named Giovanni Taddei. The reason behind Ascanio’s challenge was an insult by Taddei, either for refusing to follow an order or for insulting him in front of other officers who afterwards reported it to their leader. Therefore, in many ways this encounter found Ascanio in a reversed role compared to his first famous duel: he had to fight a younger military subordinate of his who was already a skilled fighter and who would make a name for himself if he defeated the seasoned commander, much like in the case of him and the Count of Carpegna. The preparations of the duel lasted two months, during which time officials were appointed and weapons were chosen. This preparation time allowed the news of the duel to spread in the area and reach great publicity. The two combatants would once again fight with two swords each. The Count of Pitigliano that had allowed the duel appointed himself as the referee.
On the day of the duel the crowd of the city and
soldiers gathered outside the city walls. Two elevated stages were erected for
the more illustrious guests, invited either by the two men or by the city
officials, demonstrating the importance of the event as a social spectacle.
Weapons were provided for the combatants sealed, most likely in boxes or other
wrapping, to ensure that each fought with the same weapon and had no unfair
advantage against the other. The combat was ferocious, but in this case Ascanio
emerged swiftly as a clear winner. Taddei first received two thrusts to his right
arm, which would have hindered the effective use of his sword, and eventually
was killed by a third thrust to his torso.
Niccolò Circignani, The duel of Ascanio della Corgna and Giovanni Taddei, fresco, Pallazo della Corgna.
A case of swords
One of the matters worth further discussion in both of
Ascanio’s duels is the choice of weapons for each participant: a pair of single
handed swords. This is not an instance of sword and dagger, but two similar
swords, one longer and one slightly shorter. Considering the period of their
use, it is safe to assume that the swords, or at least the longer one, used
were what is commonly referred to today as sideswords.[5]
In the fresco of the Palazzo della Corgna depicting this duel, the duelists are
also seen wearing some type of glove on their left hand. The glove reaches all
the way to the elbow, and it is safe to speculate that it would offer partial
protection and was therefore made of leather or most likely mail.
In his Opera Nova, arguably the earliest European to record a nearly complete martial arts system and contemporary to the duels discussed here, Achille Marozzo wrote that the use of a case of sideswords is an excellent and strong choice of weapons that few know how to use, and they should not be used by those who do not know how to fence.[6] In his book, Marozzo treated the use of various weapons such as the two-handed sword, the partisan, the spiedo, the bill, and the sidesword alone or paired with the cloak and the dagger. However, nowhere in his exhaustive treatment of these weapons their use becomes abundantly clear as being something as advanced as in his initial statement regarding the use of the paired sideswords. This is a testament to the martial skills particularly of Ascanio, as well as of his opponents. It is safe to assume that besides his military experience and training, Ascanio was taught how to fence with a fencing master because of his status and chosen profession, most likely with a variety of weapons. Della Corgna’s connection to Achille Marozzo extends beyond the geographical and chronological frame and the use of weapons. Ascanio first served under the command of Guido Rangone as a standard bearer and then as a captain.[7] Rangone was mentioned by Marozzo as another student of his own fencing master, Guido Antonio de Lucca, for whose school Marozzo wrote in his dedication that “it produced more warriors than the belly of the Trojan horse”. Finally, it is worth mentioning that in the sketch and fresco depicting his duel with Taddei both combatants are also using a glove on their left hand, most likely with mail exterior.
His success and overwhelming victories in both duels reinforce the profile of a skilled and experienced fencer. This is especially the case considering that in of the duel against Taddei Ascanio was considerably older and that in the cases of both duels discussed here he was missing his right eye (lost in the battle of Casale Monferrato in 1536), a handicap that would normally weigh in in favour of Taddei because of the dexterity needed in the use of weapons and especially paired arms, his feat becomes even greater.
Achille Marozzo, Opera Nova (Modena: Bergolae, 1536), cap. 76.
Urban spaces and
fame
A common denominator in both of Ascanio’s duels is the crowd that gathered to watch. The bloody, and in the case of the second duel lethal, fights were transformed into a spectacle for the residents of the cities that hosted them. The crowd in the rooftops and balconies around the church of San Petronio in Bologna hosted part of the spectating crowd, and the elevated landing outside the church served as a stage that allowed citizens to observe the violent spectacle.
In the case of the duel against Taddei the fight was conducted outside the city walls of Pitigliano. Crowds from the city was gathered to watch as well as several of Ascanio’s soldiers. Shopkeepers and homeowners with windows and roofs that overlooked the grounds of the duel rented them out.[8] Not many details regarding the space are given in any of the contemporary accounts. However, it is interesting to highlight some of the details in the fresco of the fight. The duelists are depicted fighting in some form of enclosure much like those used in foot combat tournaments. Additionally, a judge is present holding a staff, which also reflects the same tournament practice. These elements match the descriptions of the narratives of the duel but add some extra depth and detail aligned to the trends of the time of the event. The variety in the garments of the crowd present is fascinating, with colours and outfits that hint to people of different statuses and from various life stratas.
A comparison of the descriptions of the ‘duel of the century’ and the duel of Ascanio against the Count of Carpegna leaves the modern reader with the impression that the latter was a far more interesting spectacle, particularly because of the setting. This might be because of the lack of detail on the combat between of Ascanio and Taddei. However, it is worth considering that their duel was so memorable because of the two-month buildup that led to it. Both men were skilled fighters and had both won famous duels prior to their encounter, with Taddei even winning in one with Ascanio acting as his second. This created an intricate and appealing narrative that most likely excited the public in a period that judicial honour duels were not uncommon.[9]
Conclusion
Among other exploits of his illustrious military career, Ascanio fought against the Ottoman Empire in the Siege of Malta (1565), and acted as one of the commanders of the force that defeated the Ottoman navy in Lepanto (1571). Shortly after the Battle of Lepanto, Ascanio died of fever in Rome. Scenes of his life and his victories are celebrated in the frescoes of the Palazzo della Corgna in Castiglione del Lago, including his record as an undefeated swordsman. Ascanio embodied the finest martial qualities of Italian nobility in the sixteenth century, and his skill helped his reputation reach heroic heights during and after his lifetime. The two duels discussed here helped in the creation of his personal myth –perhaps partially justifying the accusations by the Count of Carpegna – and highlight a martial aspect of the civic life of a military man.
Acknowledgements: I would like to thank Moreno dei Ricci, Jacopo Penso and ‘Opera Nova’ for their bibliographical assistance and help studying Ascanio. Grazie ragazzi.
[1] Guido Lana, Ascanio I della
Corgna ed il suo tempo (Castiglione del Lago: Nuova Stampa, 1999), p. 13.
[2] Ettore
Calzorale, ‘Ascanio della Corgna, I combattenti umbri e il gran “soccorso” di
Malta nella canzone di un anonimo coevo’, Bolletino
della Deputazione di storia, Patria per l’Umbria, 94 (1997), 173.
[3] For an
overview of the types of duels in sixteenth century Italy as well as of the
context that cultivated their practice see Fredrick
Bryson, The Sixteenth-Century Italian Duel; a Study in Renaissance
Social History (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1938).
[4] Ariodante Fabretti, Le biografie dei capitani venturieri dell’ Umbria (Montepulciano: Angiolo Fumi, 1842), pp. 603-604.
[5] Roberto Gotti, Daniel Jaquet and Iason-Eleftherios Tzouriadis, Roberto Gotti, Daniel Jaquet and
Iason-Eleftherios Tzouriadis, European
Martial Arts: From Vulcan’s Forge to the Arts of Mars (Botticino:
Gairethinx, 2019), p.218
[7] Giovanni
Tarcagnota, Delle historie del mondo,
vol. 4 (Venice: Giunti, 1592), pp. 188-189.
[8] Bruce Ware Allen, The Great Siege of Malta: The Epic
Battle Between the Ottoman Empire and the Knights of St. John (Lebanon: ForeEdge, 2015), p. 221.
[9] Marco
Cavina, Il sangue dell’onore: Storia del
duello (Rome: Laterza, 2005).
The
works comprising the historical genre of pragmatic literature for disseminating
fighting technique are now generally known as fight books.[1] Similar content may be
found in tournament books and more general works on military matters. Late
medieval and early modern fight book literature generally deals with single
combat, whether playful (schimpf) or serious (ernst), and not the
activities of combatants on the battlefield. The weapons depicted, however, are
not exclusively sporting or duelling weapons, which is most apparent in the
case of the pike.
The
pike, or the long infantry spear, was the main weapon of European armies from
the late medieval period onwards. This was a period marked by changes taking
place in the battlefield, as the dominance of heavy cavalry was superceded by
infantry armed with staff weapons.[2] The earliest pikes were
slightly over three metres (ca. ten feet), later averaging at four to
four-and-a-half metres (13–15 feet). Pikes were used in co-ordination with
firearms until they were superceded by the bayonet in the early eighteenth
century. Single combat with pikes was featured in fencing competitions and
fighting at the barriers; generally, pikes would be found in early modern
German households for military and guard duties.[3]
This
article discusses the contrasts in the use of the pike in
the military and non-military domains, drawing from fight book literature. The
designation “pike” will be used in the general sense to refer to
“long” spears used on foot. This choice perhaps requires some
justification.
By
any other name
Identifying
weapons in historical sources has its share of challenges. Whereas illustrations
may be satisfactory in depicting weapon types attested in material finds, the
words used in written sources may be more difficult to connect to their intended
referents, since the words are not necessarily used in their modern antiquarian
senses. For example, the Latin words pilum, gladius, and scutum
are now usually used to refer to specific types of Roman javelins, oblong shields,
and short swords, but in the late medieval Royal Armouries manuscript I.33 scutum
is used of the buckler (a small round shield) and gladius of the
archetypical one-handed medieval sword.
Similar
considerations apply to the concept and designation of “pike”. One
of the earliest attestations of the English word, in the plural form picas,
can be found in the eleventh-century Old English marginalia of BL, Add MS
32246, where it is used to gloss the Latin word dolones, defined in the
text as gladii in baculis positi qui in manu geruntur [‘swords put on
shafts, which are used in hand’] .[4] According to Servius’
commentary on Virgil’s Aeneid (7.664), the Latin word pilum covers
both the Roman military javelin and the Macedonian sarissa, the
equivalent of the pike in antiquity, but he also relates Varro’s view of dolo
being an ingens contus cum ferro brevissimo [‘a huge spear with a short
tip’]. It is, however, difficult to say what exactly the English glossator has
had in mind.
As
for fight book sources, in his fifteenh-century manuscript book, Paulus Kal depicts
the use of a moderately sized lance on horseback and on foot, referring to it
as both spere (5v) and spies (8v, 10v, 11v), ostensibly using the
qualified expressions “half-spear” (halber spies) and “long
spear” (langer spies) in the sense of two-handed or one-handed couched
grip, respectively (7v–8r).[5]
Curiously,
Kal refers to (apparently) the same weapon on foot, held with two hands, as lannger
spieß (20r). Later this term is reserved for the distinctly longer type of
spear, the length being a decisive factor when considering its practicality for
different uses. The soldiers in a pike formation do not engage individual duels
in an open space, and the focus of training is in manoeuvring as a formation, accomplished through drill.
Drill
and technique
The
unquestionable classic of military pike drill is the corpus of illustrations by
Jacob de Gheyn, first published in Dutch in The Hague in 1607. [6]This drill manual, however,
only deals with movements up to and including ‘charging’ the pike against
infantry or cavalry. The details of using it for offence and defence are not
addressed.
As
expected, the relevant entries in Thimm’s bibliography (1896) start with Jacob
de Gheyn, covering derivative and other similar works.[7] Francesco Alfieri (1641) also
deals with drill, but the pike plays of Johann Georg Pascha (1657, 1673; fig. 1)
and Antonio Vezzani (1688) are more akin to dancing than combat.[8]
Fight
book authors not mentioned by Thimm in this context, who nevertheless discuss
the pike in their printed books, are Pietro Monte (1509), Achille Marozzo
(1536), Joachim Meyer (1570), and Giacomo di Grassi (1570).[9] George Silver delves into
technique in detail only in his manuscript Brief instructions.[10] Paul Hector Mair, whose encyclopedic
work is preserved in three two-volume manuscript books, incorporates twelve Stend
or ‘stances’ for the pike. These sources elucidate technique for single
combat in the urban environment of a Fechtschule (fencing school) and, to some extent, for combat.
Francesco Fernando Alfieri, La Picca (Padova: Sebastiano Sardi, 1641), Plate 9.
“Nel giuoco, e nella guerra”
The most salient quality of the pike, which
is also brought up by military authors, is its length. Cesare d’Evoli notes
from the outset that pikes should be at least fifteen feet long, the longer the better.[11] Monte, too, suggests
longer pikes against those of the Germans.[12] It has been said that a pike
could only be used for short forward thrusts, which is true to some extent of
the longest kinds, if wielded from near the butt.[13]
Excessive length, of course, will make the weapon less manoeuvrable, but this
is of little consequence in a dense pike formation.
Di Grassi explicitly notes that he is not
discussing using the pike for war, therefore treating its various urban martial
uses. Accordingly, for ease of handling, he suggests gripping it at an arm’s
length from the butt. Both
Mair and Meyer depict the rear hand gripping the butt of the pike, but the
pikes in the illustrations seem to be no more than three meters (ten feet) long.
A
shorter pike would certainly accommodate the technically and physically
demanding one-handed grip first mentioned by Monte.[14] Meyer details the use of the
tail of the pike for parrying, followed by swinging the tip up for a riposte,
all done with the right hand alone. In addition, his very first technical
example employs a one-handed thrust, shown in an illustration not referred to
in the text, also mentioned by Monte. Meyer’s one-handed recovery from losing
control of one’s pike seems to be connected to this thrust.
In
combat, the pike may be ‘charged’ against infantry or cavalry. Meyer refers to
the former position as a variation of the middle or straight guard: in this ‘field
guard’ (feldhut) the butt of the pike is pulled further back than the
flank, perhaps to accommodate the length of the military pike. Paulus Hector Mair
seems to refer to a similar position as a ‘free stance’ (freystand):
this appellation might stem from the rough military stance not being dictated
by the precepts of art. Di Grassi notes that two opposing straight guards will only
result in mutual impalement.[15]
Despite the differences, the motoric basis of the more
ludic pike play can be traced to the simple and straight-forward military
technique. The turns and grip-changes of Meyer’s einlaufen (‘running
in’) are similar to charging the pike backwards from the shouldered position,
and even exercising one’s skill in one-handed play can be derived from picking
up the pike from the ground. Added pompa and leggiadria would only
have meaning if there was an audience to appreciate ‘pomp’ and ‘elegance’, be
it fellow guildsmen or just curious townsfolk watching a competition.
Giacomo di Grassi, Ragione di adoprar sicuramente l’arme (Venice: Giordano Ziletti, 1570), p. 112.
Concluding
notes
A distinctly military weapon like the pike finding its way to the relatively peaceful context of urban pike play is perhaps not unlike the development of the tournament into harmless pageantry of the nobility. At the same time when the significance of cavalry charging with couched lances diminished, the military significance and practice with the pike coexisted with the development of a more playful culture of its use.
City-dwellers are known to have made better
infantry men than their more rustic counterparts due to their communal cohesion,
first noticeable in northern Italy in the twelfth century.[16]
Interestingly, some traces of a distinctly urban identity may be seen in Italian
fifteenth-century fight books of Fiore dei Liberi and Filippo Vadi, who wish
that their teachings should not fall in the hands of the rurales or homini
rusticali.[17]
The
fight book authors active in the era of the pike were well aware of the distinction
between war and play. The topic is addressed by Alfieri , and before him, Meyer
spares a few words to discuss pike technique for the battlefield.[18] Here the repertoire is
distinctly less complex, employing only beating the opponents pike to the side
and going around it. Meyer notes that a pikeman must not only be strong, but
also besonnen and use his pike fürsichtlich .[19] This emphasis on
‘caution’ echoes Di Grassi’s giuditio, and
may be read as an advertisement of the military benefits of his instruction: to
wield a pike, one needs caution to complement strength and valour, caution
being something fencing masters have to offer through their art. Considering the
technical repertoire of the bayonet systems employed by the military later on,
including the one-handed Fangstoß (‘throw point’), this attitude seems
to have gained some ground.
[1] For a thorough introduction to the topic, see Frank Fürbeth, ‘Fechtbücher.’ In Deutsches Literatur-Lexikon: Das Mittelalter,vol. 6, ed. by Wolfgang Achnitz (Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter, 2014), 648–653; Sergio Boffa, Les manuels de combat (Fechtbücher et Ringbücher). Typologie des sources de Moyen Âge occidental 87. (Turnhout: Brepols, 2014), pp23-36; Daniel Jaquet, Combattre au Moyen Age: une histoire des arts martiaux en Occident, XIVe-XVIe. (Paris: Arkhê, 2017), pp. 55-100.
[2] J. F. Verbruggen, The Art of Warfare in Western Europe during
the Middle Ages. Second revised edition, translated by Sumner Willard &
R. W. Southern. (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1997), pp. 111-12, pp. 182-90.
[3] Sydney Anglo, The Martial
Arts of Renaissance Europe (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000), p.
169; Ann B. Tlusty, The Martial Ethic in
Early Modern Germany: Civic Duty and the RIght of Arms (New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2011), p. 214, pp.135-8.
[6] Jacob de Gheyn, Wapenhandelinghe
von Roers Musquetten ende Spiessen (The Hague: Robert de Baudouz, 1607).
[7] Carl Thimm, A Complete
Bibliography of Fencing and Duelling (London: Bodley Head, 1896).
[8] Francesco Fernando Alfieri, La Picca (Padova: Sebastiano Sardi, 1641); Johann Georg Pascha, Kurze Unterrichtung belangend die Pique, die Fahne, den Jägerstock, das Voltesiren, das Ringen, das Fechten auf den Stoß und Hieb, und endlich das Trincieren verferrtigts. (Wittenberg: Melchior Oelschlegels, 1657, repr. 1659); Johann Georg Pascha, Deutliche Beschreibung Unterschiedener Fahnen-Lectionen In Acht Spiel eingetheilet, Nebst dem Piquen-Spiel, Pertuisan und halben Piquen/ oder Jägerstock (Hall in Sachsen: Melchior Oelschlegel, 1673); Antonio Vezzani, Esercizio accademico de picca. (Parma: Stamperia Ducale, 1688).
[9] Pietro Monte, Exercitiorum,
atque artis militaris collectanea (Milan: Giovani Angelo Scinzenzler, 1509);
Achille Marozzo, Opera nova (Modena:
D. Antonio Bergola, 1536); Joachim Meyer, Gründtliche
Beschreibung der freyen Ritterlichen unnd Adelichen kunst des Fechtens
(Strasbourg: Thiebolt Berger, 1570); Giacomo di Grassi, Ragione di adoprar sicuramente l’arme (Venice: Giordano Ziletti,
1570).
[10] George Silver, Paradoxes of
Defence (London: Edward Blount, 1599); Cyril G. R. Matthey ed., The Works of George Silver (London:
George Bell, 1898), pp. 124-27.
[11] Cesare d’Evoli, Delle
ordinanze et battaglie (Rome: Tito & Paulo Diani, 1586), p. 1.
[13] John Waldman, Hafted Weapons in Medieval and Renaissance Europe:
The Evolution of European Staff Weapons Between 1200 and 1650 (Boston: Brill,
2005), p. 7.
[17] Francesco Novati,
Il Fior di Battaglia di maestro Fiore
dei Liberi da Premariacco. (Bergamo: Istituto italiano d’arti grafiche,
1902), p. 194; Carlo Bascetta, ed.by, 1978. Sport e
giuochi: trattati e scritti dal XV al XVIII secolo (Milan: Edizioni il Polifilo,
1978), p. 152.
By Olivier Dupuis and François Siedel (transcription and translation)
Source: gallica.bnf.fr / BnF Français 25527 fol. 38v
Context
Civil fencing with the use of the buckler is attested by documents
written as early as the thirteenth century, in England, as well as by literary
works in the German language. It is different to fencing with the large shield,
worn and used by knights and their servants, and above all the buckler is
usually handled at that time with little other protection. Traces of such a
practice remained rare before the middle of the fourteenth century outside of
England, where archives are both well preserved and well-studied.[1]
For the Kingdom of France, we can observe large amounts of small illustrations
in the margins of manuscripts from the beginning of the fourteenth century where
men, hybrids or monkeys are fighting using a buckler in one hand. The
illustration above is one of the many remaining examples that deserve a general
study. Such buckler could be compact and light enough to be worn in the belt
with the sword, as illustrated in a comic way in the second illustration taken
from a bas-de-page of the Smithfield Decretals, painted in England around 1340.
The following extract from the French novel, Restor de Paon, written
before 1338, confirms this possibility: “He took a buckler of strong steel
which hanged at his sword, and drew the sword.”[2]
One must also mention that the oldest known fencing treatise
produced in Europe, focuses uniquely on the combination of sword and buckler
and dated from the first half of the fourteenth century. It is written in Latin
combined with vernacular German words.[3]
This type of sword fencing with no other protection than this little shield was
still in its infancy and was one of the most important forms in the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries in Europe, and in particular in France.[4]
The case in question comes
during a particular period in the history of the city of Laon, seat of the
important bishopric of Picardy, located about 140km northeast of Paris. The
municipal status of the city, granted in the twelfth century by the King of
France, was abolished in 1322 following complaints from the cathedral chapter.
However, it was not until nine years later, in March 1331, that an ordinance of
the King of France established the office of Royal Provost of Laon, who had in
charge everything in the city with the exception of possessions and personnel
attached to the chapter and the bishopric.[5]
Historiography accredits a certain Jean de Milon as the very first provost in
1331, but as our text indicates clearly Jean Crenes as provost in the eyes of
the Parliament of Paris, it is therefore necessary to consider an ambiguity on
the tenant of the office, at least the first months after the establishment of
this institution.[6]
Source: The British Library, Royal MS 10 E IV, fol. 60r>
Text
description
The original is preserved on paper in the French
National Archives in Paris, in the archives of the Laon Cathedral Chapter. This
letter was produced by the Royal Provost of Laon, Jean Crenes, for Colard
Tribourdaine, whose precise function at that time is unknown. In 1336 a
judgment of the Parliament of Paris seems to indicate that Colard Tribourdaine
was some time earlier commissioner of the provost of Laon, perhaps he was
already in 1331, but nothing is less certain, especially since the presence of
this letter in the archives of the chapter could suggest that Colard
Tribourdaine was in the service of the chapter and that he changed functions
afterwards.[7]
This text essentially reproduces a copy of the letter in Latin sent by the
Paris Parliament to the said provost, accompanied with instructions of his own,
in French, to diligently apply the instructions. This letter from the Parliament
is certainly in response to an initial letter which unfortunately has not been
found.
In summary, a certain Ponceletus of Miromonte, servant
of a member of the chapter, was taking lessons in buckler play. The word used
in the text, clipeo (l. 7), seems to indicate these small round shields
as opposed to the large shields of knights and soldiers. These classes were
given by an Englishman residing in Laon, Jaquermard, who was to have several
students, from what can be understood from the text, and grant a particularly
advantageous rate to Ponceletus in particular. It seems that he was badly paid
for it because an injury occurred while Jaquermard was allegedly poorly protected,
but the text is unclear regarding this fact. Jaquemard also allegedly neglected
the advice or care of surgeons (sirrugicorum). Incidentally, we can note the use of several Latin terms related to
fencing, also used in the aforementioned fencing treatise: ludum (l. 9),
scolas/scolaris/scolaribus (l. 7-8), custodiam (l. 10). Finally,
Jaquermard died a few days later from the wound caused by Ponceletus, his
pupil. The latter was therefore put in the chapter prison. This accident,
however, made Ponceletus fall under the jurisdiction of high justice, and
therefore of the king’s justice. This motivated Nicolas Raoul the Younger,
lieutenant of the provost to seize Ponceletus. However, the chapter most likely
contested this before the Parliament of Paris, that the murderer was a servant
of a member of the chapter, and that he fell within the exceptions provided for
in the ordinance of 1331, leaving the right of high justice to the bishop of
Laon. By the letter transmitted to the provost, who is the subject of the
studied document, the Parliament of Paris confirms well the error and asks that
Ponceletus be put back in the hands of the bishop’s justice.
This text is certainly not of great historical
significance, but mentions of the practice of fencing at the beginning of the
fourteenth century are so rare that it deserves to be brought to the attention
of an informed public. It is also noteworthy that the teaching concerned not
only the entourage of a member of the chapter, but also other pupils, making
this secular practice, dissociated from military training, part of everyday
life in the North of France. The presence of an English teacher, finally, was
not insignificant. It echoes the numerous mentions of fencing with the buckler
found in the archives of this country, and could be the witness of a cultural
influence in the field of this practice in the North of France and Normandy,
but this possibility needs further research.
Edition
and Translation
The
text proved to be difficult to transcribe, and no less difficult to translate.
It is offered here slightly rough, particularly the translation, because of the
lack of sufficient expertise in the legal formulas of the time.
The
contractions, which are numerous, have all been developed and marked in
italics, the line numbers are indicated in the transcription between two
vertical bars. The reverse side of the letter indicating the addressee’s
address is heavily stained and extremely difficult to exploit without being
able to really bring anything to the substance of the case, therefore it is
necessary to mention its existence even without giving an overview of it.
Jehans Crenes preuos de Laon a nostre
amé Colart Tribourdaine, salut. Nous auons veuez les lettres
dou roy nostresire contenant ceste |2|
fourme.
Philippus dei gratia
Francie rex baillio Viromanduensi ceterisque
justiciariis nostris aut eorum loca tenentibus salutem.
Sua nobis. Decanus et capitulum ecclesie |3|
Laudunensis graui conquestione monstrarunt quod licet
ipsi per priuilegium regium omnimodam
juridictionem habeant in omnes familiares suos |4|
et seruitores quoscumque in villa et terminis
quondam communie Laudunensis, Oriundum
in dicta villa Laudunensi dumtaxat exceptis. Indeque
sint |5| et fuerint in possessione pacifica quocienscumque
se casus obtulit, a tanto tempore quod competit ad bonam
saizinam acquirendam |6| ipsique dictam
continuando possessionem ; tenerent in sua possessione
Ponceletum de Miromonte famulum cuiusdem
canonici dicte ecclesie. |7| Pro eo qui
ipse scolaris Jaquemardi anglici Laudunensem residenciam
facientis ac scolas de clipeo conitis exercentis
et tenentis medietatem |8| salario quod a
suis scolaribus accipere consueuit ipsum Jaquemardum
vulnerauerat plagam modicam faciendo eidem ut
dicitur |9| non motus ira vel odio, sed solummodo
dictum ludum prout consueuerat exercendo ; quiquidem
Jaquemardus, non solum dicto vulnere medi-|10|-ante,
sed per custodiam minus ydoneam nolens consilio sirrugicorum
uti ut dicitur post paucos dies a tempore dicte
vulnerate |11| dicitur decessisse ; de quo
Ponceleto dicti canonici sunt et erant parati
exhibere iusticiam cuilibet conquerenti de ipso.
Nicholaus |12| Radulphus iuuenis locum tenens prepositi
Laudunensis ad carcerem dictorum conquerentium
accedens dictum Ponceletum a dicto carcere
extraxit |13| et ipsum penes se detinet eumdem ipsis deliberare
renuntiationes minus iuste
in dictorum conquerentium graue
dispendium, ac contra tenorem |14| dictorum
suorum priuilegium et possessionem superius
allegatam temere veniendo. Idcirco tibi committimus
et mandamus quatenus si visis |15| dictis
priuilegiis et auditis partibus si premissa veritate
nitantur dictum Radulphum aut prepositum dicti
loci ad reddendum et restituendum |16| eisdem decano et
capitulo dictum Ponceletum compellas vt de ipso
exhibere valeant iusticie complementum. Si vero
inter partes super |17| hec oriatur
oppositio seu debatum, dicta oppositione
ad manum nostram posita, tamquam superiores
et exequtione dicti
Ponceleti quacunque |18| fuerit, aut existere
debuerit in suspenso posita dicta oppositione
pendente adiornes partes ad instantem vicesimam diem nativitatis |19|
domini coram dilectis et fidelibus gentibus
nostris presens parlamentum
nostrum tenente non obstante quod dictum
nostrum sedeat parlamentum |20| super dicta
oppositione processurum ut fuerit rationis
curiam nostram certificans competentem ad diem de
adiornamento predicto et alijs |21| que feceris
in premissis. In quibus tibi ab omnibus nostris
subditis pereri volumus et mandamus. Datum
parisius in parlamento nostro. XXIII |22|
die decembris anno domini millo CCC trecesimoprimo.
Si vouz mandons et commettons que
vous les dictes lettres |23| ci dessus transcriptes
pour nous, et en ce lieu de nouz enterinez, accomplissiez et mettés
a exeqution deue de point
|24| en point selont leur teneur, en la fourme et maniere
que li roys nous le mande. Et tant en faites que |25|
pour vous ni ait deffaut, mandons et commendons a tous a cui il
appartient, requerons autres que a vous |26|
ce faisant obeissance et entendent diligences. Donné
souz nostre scel, le samedi prochain apres icel. L’an
mille CCC |27| trente et un.
Jehans Crenes, provost of Laon to our loved Colart Tribourdaine, salute. We have seen the letters from the King our sire containing this form: “Philip by the Grace of God King of France to the Bailiff of Vermandois, and to all our other justice officials or their lieutenants, salute. The decanus and the chapter of the church of Laon have shown us by their great investigation that they are allowed to have -thanks to a royal privilege- global jurisdiction over all their familiars and their servants whoever they are within the domain and the limits of the former commune of Laon, insofar as they are considered as such those who originate from the said domain of Laon. Thereafter, they are and were in peaceful possession of the abovementioned jurisdiction at any such time from then on that a case presented itself that pertained to the acquisition of good seisin, and they continuously remained in said possession of said jurisdiction.[8] They hold in their possession Ponceletus of Miromonte the servant of a canon of the said church. Ponceletus, himself a pupil of the English Jaquemard, the latter taking up residence in Laon and taking care of collective buckler schools and receiving for salary the half he used to receive from his pupils. The said Ponceletus had inflicted on Jaquemard himself a slight wound while sparing, as it is said, not from a movement of anger or hatred but only the playing the said game, as he had been accustomed to do so; it is said that Jaquemard died a few days after having been wounded by Ponceletus, not only because of the said wound which opened up[9], but also due to an incorrect guard[10], the latter refusing to listen to the decision of the surgeons, as it is said; the said canons were ready to render justice to any plaintiff about Ponceletus himself. Nicolas Raoul the Young, lieutenant of the provost of Laon going to the prison of the said plaintiffs took the said Ponceletus out of the said prison, and in his hands, prevents him less equitably from deciding on the renunciations of the heavy burden of the said plaintiffs, and by opposing without reflection the content of their said privileges alleged above. For this reason we give you to execute and ask you that the said Raoul or the provost of the said place hand over and restore Ponceletus to the canons themselves, since you have seen, after the privileges have been declared and the parties heard, whether they are based on the truth above all. Bring the said Ponceletus to justice before the decanus and the chapter so that they may be able to show the fulfilment of justice about Ponceletus himself. If an opposition arises, or if there will have been a debate for the execution of the said Ponceletus whatever it may be between the parties concerning this affair, as the said opposition has been entrusted to our hand, so to speak, superior, or if there will have to be a pending debate, since the said opposition is uncertain, you will adjourn the parties at the moment of the 20th day of the nativity of the Lord, in the presence of our elected and faithful people. Our parliament, since the said opposition retained but did not prevent the said parliament from sitting above the said opposition, is about to go ahead furthermore if as a matter of reason will be by certifying the people of the said parliament. The latter will set the day for the aforementioned adjournment and for other matters that you will have done in missives sent in advance, missives in which we want and ask all our subordinates to obey you. Given in Paris in our Parliament on the 23rd day of December, the year of the Lord 1331.” We entrust you with the task of endorsing the said letters transcribed above for us, and to carry out and carry out our decisions from point to point according to their content, form and manner as the King requires of us, and so that you are not lacking, we ask that you be obedient and diligent. Given under our seal on the Saturday following this one, in the year 1331.
Bibliography
Manuscripts
Archives Nationales de France, L//734,
document 23.
Secondary sources and editions
Actes du Parlement de Paris, ed.
Henri Furgeot, 2e série, vol 1 (1328-1342) (Paris: Plon, 1920).
Cinnato Franck, Suprenant
André, Le Livre de l’art du combat, édition critique du Royal Armouries MS.
I.33 (Paris: CNRS éditions, 2009).
Dupuis Olivier.
‘Organization and Regulation of Fencing in the Realm of France in the Renaissance’,
in Acta Periodica Duellatorum, vol. 2 (2014), p. 233-54. DOI
http://dx.doi.org/10.1515/apd-2015-0019.
Dupuis Olivier,
‘The roots of Fencing from the Twelfth to the Fourteenth Centuries in the
French Language Area’, in Acta Periodica Duellatorum, vol. 3
(2015), p. 37–62. DOI http://dx.doi.org/10.1515/apd-2015-0002.
Jean le Court dit
Brisebare, Le Restor du Paon, éd.
Richard J. Carey (Genève: Droz, 1966).
Melleville Maximilien, Histoire
de la ville de Laon et de ses institutions, 2 vols. (Laon, Paris: 1846).
Ordonnances des roys de
France de la troisième race, vol. 2 (Paris :
1729).
Ordonnances des roys de France de la troisième race,
vol. 12 (Paris : imprimerie royale, 1777)
[1] Olivier Dupuis, ‘The roots of Fencing from the Twelfth to the Fourteenth Centuries in the French Language Area’, in Acta Periodica Duellatorum, vol. 3 (2015), p. 37–62. DOI http://dx.doi.org/10.1515/apd-2015-0002.
[2] “.I. boucler d’acier fort qui pendoit a s’espee / Prist et l’espee traist […]”. Jean le Court dit Brisebare, Le Restor du Paon, éd. Richard J. Carey (Genève: Droz, 1966), p.66, v.550-51.
[3] Cinnato Franck, Suprenant André, Le Livre de l’art du combat, édition critique du Royal Armouries MS. I.33 (Paris: CNRS éditions, 2009).
[4] Olivier Dupuis, ‘Organization and Regulation of Fencing in the Realm of France in the Renaissance’, in Acta Periodica Duellatorum, vol. 2 (2014), p. 233-54. DOI http://dx.doi.org/10.1515/apd-2015-0019.
[5] Melleville Maximilien, Histoire de la ville de Laon et de ses institutions, 2 vols. (Laon, Paris: 1846),vol. 1, pp.273-74. The ordinance is published in-extenso in Ordonnances des roys de France de la troisième race, vol. 2 (Paris : 1729), pp.77-80.
[6] Melleville, Histoire de la ville de Laon, vol. 1, p. 283.
[7]Actes du Parlement de Paris, ed. Henri Furgeot, 2e série, vol 1 (1328-1342) (Paris: Plon, 1920), p. 174.
[8] This is a good example of an obscure Latin sentence that cannot be only roughly translated. The translation of this obscure Latin sentence has been improved by Ariella Elema.
[9] Free interpretation for mediare, which means to divide in two.
[10] The meaning is unclear here, does custodiam minus refer to a poor protection during the fight, or to the bad care Jaquemard took of himself after being injured?
On 24 June
Florence celebrates the feast day of St. John the Baptist, the patron saint of
the city. This religious observation is accompanied by city-wide events and
celebrations and has been
practiced in Florence for centuries. The modern festivities retain many practices
with historic origins, such as parades and the observation of Mass in the
Duomo, but the intra-city Calcio Storico – a cross between football,
rugby, and wrestling – did not exist until the late sixteenth century.
Prior to this, tournaments were held as part of the celebrations – in one of
the key dates in the Florentine calendar, which often lasted for several days. Tournaments
in republican Florence were often associated with a civic event or religious
observance and were organised and sponsored by the Signoria, the highest level
of contemporary government. The majority of these tournaments took the form of
jousts and included a diverse range of competitors such as Florentine citizens,
the younger sons of elite families, and condottieri in Florentine
employ. In contrast to some other parts of contemporary Europe, Florentine tournaments
were open to non-nobles – with some exceptions. In rare cases, such as in 1513,
group combat was held instead of jousting. Luca Landucci, a Florentine
apothecary who kept a detailed diary between 1500 and 1514, recounts the
celebrations for the feast day and briefly narrates the tournament – and how it
went wrong.[1]
Landucci is often sparing with
details in his diary, with the exception of accounts of his own property and
affairs, for example the effect of the weather on the fruit trees at his villa
at Dicomano. However, it is easy to recreate the tournament in 1513 from
Landucci’s limited information on the participants, their equipment, and
especially from his comments on the aftermath. We are informed, for example,
that the tournament was held in the Piazza della Signoria, the political centre
of the Republic of Florence. This is unusual as tournaments were more commonly
held in the Piazza Santa Croce, as is the modern grand final of the
tournament’s successor, the Calcio Storico. Temporary stands were also
built to accommodate the spectators who came from miles around for the feast
day. To give an idea of the size of the crowd, the spectators at the feast day in
the following year, 1514, were so numerous that they even used the rooftops
surrounding the piazza. Landucci recounts such vast crowds of people ‘never
having been known, for numbers of strangers had come from many different parts’
– including four Roman cardinals in disguise.[2]
Within the list, the area where the
combat took place, a wooden castle was constructed as the centre and focus of
the fighting, but no description or iconographic representation has survived. This
temporary edifice was defended by one hundred men, who aimed to resist the
three hundred attackers.[3]
A secondary near-contemporary Florentine commentator, Giovanni Cambi, recounts
that the castle was eighty braccia, or arm-lengths, around but, in contrast
to Landucci, states that there were four hundred attackers ‘of our territory’ –
possibly soldiers in Florentine employ.[4]
Both sides used ‘lances and divers weapons’, which may have been whatever they
had to hand, and crucially fought in the tournament without armour. There is
nothing particularly unusual with the story so far – it was an urban tournament
fought without armour. Both writers describe what happened after the combat,
which led Cambi to decry the whole tournament as a ‘festa diabolica’.[5]
The actions of the defenders, or possibly a small group of them, who led ‘bad
lives’ caused serious injuries and some deaths amongst the attackers – it
should be remembered that intentionally killing an opponent was never a part of
tournaments. These injuries were inflicted by a somewhat unusual tournament
weapon – unbaked bricks! The defenders may have taken these bricks from a
construction site in Florence, possibly on their way to the tournament, and
were presumably thrown from the walls of the wooden castle onto the unarmoured
attackers. It is easy to imagine the effect of an unbaked brick, travelling
with some force, on an unarmoured body, and it is no surprise that some of the
attackers were badly wounded and others died later in hospital.
It is not clear from the sources if
the defenders intended to cause such injuries to their opponents. There is no
record of names, district origins, or factional groupings in the records. Cambi
clearly views these men as evil, due to the outcome of this festa diabolica,
but Landucci simply refers to the brutal nature of the fighting – which is not
difficult to imagine. However, this was not the end to the fatalities. In their
eagerness to watch the spectacle, a group of soldiers built a platform over a
nearby doorway and invited two courtesans to watch the combat. This platform
collapsed onto two brothers and all four were killed. It is little surprise
that the celebrations for the feast of St. John in the following year, 1514, was
a smaller scale, and arguably safer, joust of ‘about sixteen jousters, all
soldiers’.[6]
[1]A Florentine Diary from 1450 to 1516 by Luca Landucci continued by an anonymous writer till 1542 with notes by Iodoco del Badia, trans. by Alice de Rosen Jervis (London: J. M. Dent & Sons LTD., 1927), p. 270.
[3] Ideas of those ‘within’ defending against those ‘without’ had
existed from the earliest days of the tournament.
[4]Istorie di Giovanni Cambi Cittadino Fiorentino, Volume 3,
ed. by Fr. Ildefonso di San Luigi (Florence: Cambiagi Stampator Granducale, 1786),
pp. 23-24.
Introduction The bombardment of the city of Vienna and the storming of its suburbs in May 1485 by Matthias Corvinus led to the final decision of the Viennese citizens to hand over their city to the Hungarian King. In letters to princes and cities of the Empire, the city council claimed that they were forced to surrender because of the famine, the lack of support from the emperor, and the treachery of Bohemian mercenaries. The prestigious city of Vienna was thus in the hands of the Hungarian king. But the so-called “Hungarian War” was by no means over. After the capture of Vienna, Matthias Corvinus went as far as the imperial residence Wiener Neustadt and took it under his control. On the way there, the troops, including Viennese servants, passed through several villages, including Merkenstein Castle. [1] The city council’s accounts book of 1486 lists the damages that mercenaries and servants had suffered and were paid for by the city. One entry stands out in particular:
„hannsenn Gsmachl fur sein hanndtpuxn die er vor Merknstain verlornn hat, Darumb man im Lanng nichts hat gebn wellnn seins vnfleiss halbnn vnd doch yetz durch den Burgermaister das er im ain peltzl kauf vnnd im velde nebenn anndernn beleibn mug Zugebnn bevolhnn hat, 20 t.“ [2]
Hans Gsmachl did not seem to have been one of the most motivated Viennese servants. The city council refused to refund the handgun he had lost in front of Merkenstein Castle because of his apparent limited zeal. In order to persuade him to work hard, the mayor decided to buy him a fur so that Gsmachl would stay in the field with the other servants. With a proud amount of 20 pounds of Viennese pennies, this motivational impulse weighed heavily on Vienna’s finances.
Military Duty of Burghers in Vienna It is not too surprising that such listlessness and idleness is not only to be found among servants and mercenaries who financed their lives through their war craft and services, but even more so among citizens of the city who were bound to readiness for duty due to their personal military service.
The official duties of the citizens included assignments both inside and outside the city. A district division of 1444 makes the four tasks of the Viennese citizen visible: “[…] sie sullen in zirken, wachten, schützen, raisen mit einander leidn“. [3] According to this, the war duty included patrols through the alleys and streets of the city (zirken), guarding the city walls (wachten), protecting the city and community in case of need (schützen) and participating in military campaigns (raisen). It is not surprising that this list of duties corresponded more to an ideal conception and can hardly be found in reality. This was among other reasons due to the growing demands of previous centuries. If the city privileges of 1237, 1247 and 1278 granted Viennese citizens the memorable right to leave the city on military expeditions only to the extent that they could return by daylight on the same day, this passage disappeared in the following city privileges. When the great wave of plague in the middle of the fourteenth century did not even stop at Vienna and carried away approximately one third of the city population, this also affected the military duties in the city. While the guarding of the city wall was previously the responsibility of the bowyers, fletchers and their journeymen, from 1361 onwards, all citizens had to perform this service due to a lack of male population. [4]
Reasons to Become Unmotivated Since those services, especially campaigns, on the one hand represented risky undertakings and thus danger to life and limb, and on the other hand had a negative effect on living costs in terms of time and money, the outsourcing of tasks gradually begun. In Vienna, the proof of the earliest transfer of military duty to a surrogate can be found in a mention from 1368. However, this method was not to become widely practiced until the fifteenth century. The financial outstanding of the campaign against robbers and mercenary leader Pangratz of Galicz in 1449 gives us an insight into this proxy service. In the already mentioned city council’s bills, outstanding debts for this campaign can be found in the period from 1450 to 1462 as citizens still owed the city treasurer the corresponding payment for the services of the mercenaries recruited for them.
The fact that the Viennese increasingly only hired mercenaries but stayed away from the field themselves had already angered those people who were dependent on horsemen. In 1425, Duke Albrecht V was upset to discover that the Viennese citizens were asked several times until they became active themselves:
„Als wir ew vormaln geschriben vnd emboten haben daz ir von der Stat ze Wienn zwayhundert werlicher ze Rossen zu vnsern lantmarschalch soltet schikhen. haben wir vernomen wie ihr das vntz her vertzogen habet Das vns vast missvellet.“ [5]
Because of invading Hussite troops, Albrecht V demanded 200 citizens on horseback from the Viennese but at the time of writing they had not yet arrived at the Marshal, to whom they should have been subordinated. It is understandable that the Duke was displeased with this but this did not prompt the Viennese to make up for the omission immediately. About 50 days later, there were still only a few mercenaries at the Marshal’s place but hardly any Viennese citizens. [6] Only after further correspondence did this situation change.
The numerous drafts and war taxes, which were considered necessary, hardly encouraged the willingness of the Viennese. Moreover, political entanglements, marauding mercenary troops in the surrounding area, ever worsening minting conditions, bad harvests and famines in the city made the life of the contemporaries more troublesome. Reason enough for the sovereign and city council to appeal in ordinances to the obedience and morality of the citizens but at the same time to threaten with punishment in accordance with social disciplining if the appeal is not complied with. When the robber Ledwenko of Ruchenau tried to invade the country with 1,500 men, the Viennese were put on alert. They should inform each other and be ready to move together with horses, carts, and be as well-equipped as possible, to where they should be called upon in case of need. But whoever was in default had to expect to be severely punished without mercy. [7]
Reasons to Become Motivated Nevertheless, up to the end of the fifteenth century, Viennese citizens repeatedly did not provide mercenaries but participated personally in a military action or appeared as adventurers. There may have been several and individual reasons for this but in general, two emerge as particularly plausible: first, the person concerned was probably financially unable to pay a surrogate, and second, the prospect of prey and thus a lucrative business.
Such an existence as an adventurer is reflected in a source from the 1441. Two Viennese citizens, Ulrich Cheschinger and Chuntz Voller, took part in an attack on the town of Fürstenfeld in Styria, which was under the control of Frederick IV (later Emperor Frederick III). In letters to their wives in Vienna, they both mention that they made great booty but were now considered enemies of the king. Piquantly, Voller probably did not know in advance against whom he was taking action for in his letter, he affirmed that he only realized afterwards whose possessions were being attacked. Therefore, his wife was supposed to talk to Niclas Teschler, a respected Viennese citizen so that he can defend him in front of the king. Cheschinger, on the other hand, who apparently knew who was being robbed, made plans to cover up his participation in the raid and the course of his return: his wife Els was not to tell anyone that he was in the field with Steiner but with Weihtracher in Hungary, and she was also to send him a letter asking him to return home immediately as soon as he had been paid with his share of the loot. With this letter, he wanted to make an appearance at his captain which should lead to a faster payment and return home.
Voller and Cheschinger, however, were met with the misfortune of their letters being intercepted and delivered to King Friedrich IV. The king expressed his displeasure and requested the Vienna City Council to take up the matter and to punish the people concerned appropriately. [8][9]
Conclusion After the loss of the privilege of being mobilized only for day trips, the citizens of Vienna had to participate in numerous expeditions until the end of the fifteenth century. This led to a time problem and therefore financial burden, and also posed great danger to life and limb. It is understandable that the motivation of those affected suffered as a result, which is well documented in written accounts. Therefore, the decision of citizens to have their personal military service duties performed by surrogates was a logical development. This process is by no means a special development unique only to Vienna. It rather corresponds to a common practice in many Central European cities of the time. Regardless, some Viennese citizens appear in drafts or as adventurers who, attracted by a supposed prey, decided to become personally active and involved.
[1] Peter Csendes, ‘Geschichte Wiens im Mittelalter’, in Wien. Geschichte einer Stadt. Band 1: Von den Anfängen bis zur Ersten Wiener Türkenbelagerung (1529), ed. by Peter Csendes / Ferdindand Opll (Vienna: Böhlau, 2001), pp. 172-174. [2] Vienna, Wiener Stadt- und Landesarchiv, Oberkammeramt, B1/1. Reihe, vol. 47, 1486, 20r. [3] Adolf Tomaschek, Die Rechte und Freiheiten der Stadt Wien (= Geschichtsquellen der Stadt Wien 1. Abteilung) (Vienna: A. Hölder, 1877), CXLII. [4] Vienna, Wiener Stadt- und Landesarchiv, Handschriften, A 1/1, Wiener Stadtbuch („Eisenbuch“), fol. 67v-68v. [5] Vienna, Wiener Stadt- und Landesarchiv, HAUrk 2264, 4 October 1425. [6] Vienna, Wiener Stadt- und Landesarchiv, HAUrk 2269, 23 November 1425. [7] Hartmann J. Zeibig, Copey-Buch der Gemainen Stat Wienn. 1454–1464 (= FRA II/7), vol. 3 (Vienna: K. K. Hof- und Staats-Druckerei, 1853), pp. 11-12. [8] Vienna, Wiener Stadt- und Landesarchiv, HAUrk 2815-2818, 14-16 August 1441. [9] Gerhard Pferschy, ‘Ein Überfall auf Fürstenfeld 1441, König Friedrich IV. und die Wolfsauer’, in Rutengänge. Studien zur geschichtlichen Landeskunde. Festgabe für Walter Brunner zum 70. Geburtstag, ed. by Meinhard Brunner, Gerhard Pferschy et al. (= Forschungen zur geschichtlichen Landeskunde der Steiermark 54, = Zeitschrift des Historischen Vereines für Steiermark, Sonderbd. 26) (Graz: Historische Landeskommission für Steiermark, 2010), pp. 98–105.
A
quick investigation of fifteenth century fight books shows in certain books a
potpourri of subjects mixing fencing, alchemy, astrology and onomancy. Without
pretending to be comprehensive, at least four German manuscripts include this
mix of subjects. For example, the manuscript ms 3227a de Nuremberg [M14] contains
intercalated passages on magic, alchemy, fencing and a treatise on medicine.[1]
The manuscript from Talhoffer composed in 1448 [M13] integrates at its end a
text of onomancy aiming to choose the appropriate day of the fight according to
the name of one’s opponent in order to facilitate a victorious outcome. The
manuscript of the Erlangen-Nuremberg university library also contains pages
dealing with astrology and probably with onomancy.[2] Finally, the manuscript Thott.290.2º from
Copenhagen is composed of a military section, an illustrated fencing section
and finally an astrological treatise.[3] This
is not specific to German language document since the first sheets of the
English manuscript MS Harley 3542 of the British Library [M16] also consist of
an alchemical treatise before a few pages dedicated to fencing.
Looking
more closely at folio 280v from [M11], it contains a small medallion located
under a large crowned knight personifying the sun. In this medallion are two
wrestlers and a stone thrower in front of an audience. A handwritten note
accompanies this medallion: “Also thun der Sonnen kindt”, “so do the
children of the sun”.
Children of the Sun in their medallion, M11, fol. 280v.
Children of the planets
The
theme of the children of the planets is established during the Middle Ages
around an older substrate, deriving from Antiquity and Arab scholars. This
theme really belongs in the realm of astrology, the planets in question are the
stellar bodies visible to the naked eye (Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, the Sun, Venus,
Mercury and the moon) which come to influence beings depending on the time of their
birth, in association with the calendar (zodiac calendar, date in the week
etc). This influence can vary from affecting physical characteristic (big feet,
pale complexion), to temperament (angry, melancholic) and to the affinity for
particular trades or activities. An important feature of this theme is the
common association of text and images, but also a fluctuation in the symbolism
attached to each of these planets.
Among these fluctuations, a particular tradition associates the Children of the Sun with wrestling and throwing stones. It seems to settle in the first third of the 15th century, when a poem in German associated each sphere with a fairly precise and consistent symbolism. The poem was modified from one document to another, but was essentially supplemented or shortened rather than distorted. In the same way the associated illustrations maintain a great coherence in the symbolism and the depicted activities from one source to another. However, no specific name is attached to this tradition, which nevertheless clearly stands out within the broad theme of the Children of the Planets.[4]
If
we dwell on the representations of the Children of the Sun in the manuscripts
and incunabula of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, it is particularly
astonishing to note the frequent representation of wrestlers, stone throwers,
and to a lesser extent acrobats and fencers.[5] In
this context, the relationship between these activities and the sun is not
obvious, at least for the use of weapons for which one would have expected to
associate it with planet Mars. However, this is not the case, but the case of
the Children of Mars will be discussed later.
This
representation seems to be a direct illustration of the associated poem; the
children of the sun would naturally be noble, happy and beautiful (“geluglich
edeln und feyn”), pious (“vor mytterntag sie dynert gote vil”) but also would
devote themselves to the throwing of stone, fencing and wrestling (“Dornoch sie
leben wy man wil / Steynstoßen schyrmen ringen”).[6]
These
activities were popular body exercises in Germanic spaces, at least if we
associate them to finds from literary traditions.[7] When,
for example, Hans Waldmann’s brother won prizes in crossbow shooting, wrestling
and stone throwing, tests supposed to have taken place in Strasbourg around
1460, there is reason to doubt the reality of this episode, or in any case to
see it as the manifestation of exceptional physical aptitudes, in what resembles
initiation tests.[8] Some texts complete this list of activities
with acrobatics and strength exercises (“Der sunnen lewt sint springer
starcklewt, stainwerffer ringer”).[9] In any case, the expression “sie leben wy man
wil” should be understood as an opposition to labour, to work.
UB Heidelberg Cod.Pal.Germ.832 fol. 100 [M10] fol. 100r. In the right it is possible to see the poem mentioning “Stainstossen schirmen ringen” without these activities being represented (CC-BY-SA).
[M6] Engraving by Baccio Baldini from 1460, which takes up the symbolism of the German tradition in two series of engravings from 1460 and 1465, Source: gallica.bnf.fr.
The
illustrations therefore echo these passages from the poem, representing the
Children of the Sun in their natural activities, alongside a personification of
the sun, either in the same illustration or in two separate illustrations. The
sun is personified by a man wearing a tiara or a crown, often holding a sceptre
and a book, standing or sitting in a cart, and associated with a lion, this one
recalling the sign of the zodiac with which the sun is associated. In the
section concerning the Children of the Sun, there is often a seated crown prince
or king who seems to be witnessing various lively and peaceful games. Physical
activities seem to be a reminder of the training of nobility, but also the
expression of activities to develop beautiful bodies. Close to the crowned
prince musicians can often be found, including generally a harpist, as well as people
praying in front of an altar, stone throwers, wrestlers, fencers and acrobats.[10] It is interesting and curious that several
illustrations include a stick carrier appearing to want to use his stick to
jump with it but rarely to throw it. Some illustrations also represent
crossbowmen or javelin throwers without ever appearing in the texts. Notably,
the people represented are almost always men, with only one exception in all
documents consulted.
From
one illustration to another, not all of these activities are always represented.
The table below presents a small inventory of occurrences of the common
lineaments from 12 manuscripts or incunabula consulted relating to this cycle.
Legend: X presence of the pattern, X+ wrestlers having weapon on the ground, P presence of the poem, P- only a partial version, P+ poem extended with the mention of acrobats.
These
representations of fencers and wrestlers as stereotypes of the children of the
sun is a strong symbol, and obviously quite widespread in Germany. Its repetition
in different media (illuminated manuscripts, incunabula, engravings) over more
than a century shows an undeniable permanence and reception by the society of
the time. They symbolize bodies in movement in what they are beautiful and pleasant,
and this certainly for some time: it is thus possible to locate in the
Manessische Liederhandschrit, an illuminated manuscript from the early
fourteenth century, two representations
of swordsmen with sword and buckler and a stone thrower, alongside other
activities of the court (music, hunting, tournament), showing the proper
integration of these practices with those of courtly activities, at least on a
representational level.[11]
Moreover, the association of the sun and gold with healthy activity,
cheerfulness, power, pleasure is a shift in values associated more broadly with
the colour yellow. This change took place during in the Middle Ages, leaving only
to gold the positive symbolic associations of yellow, a colour that essentially
maintained only the negative symbolic values at the beginning of the
Renaissance.[12]
The
representation is clearly positive, in favour of these practices and we should
question the influence of this symbolism on the thought and mentalities of the
time, particularly to what extent did this positive vision of wrestlers and
fencers can have an influence on the production of fight books.
Regarding
the representation system, it is possible to note that the wrestlers are all
represented standing and generally entwined, with arms around the body of the
opponent, with the exception of the Splendor Solis where the postures differ:
grasping in the hollows arms for the first wrestling couple and seizure of the
leg for the other wrestling couple.
Fencers
are more rarely represented, and when they are, it is usually with two-handed
swords, in one case with staves [M9] and another with sword and buckler [M7].
In the absence of representation of fencers, weapons are often represented at
their feet, essentially two-handed swords accompanied in a single case with
shields [M4]: no dagger, even less armour or horse. The stereotype is clear:
the practice of the two-handed sword without armour almost alone symbolizes the
fencing of that time, accompanied in a minor way by the stick and the sword and
buckler.
In
many cases, a person holding a stick stands alone, away from the wrestlers.
Rather than being interpreted as an acrobat, he can be perceived a single
fencer performing tricks with his stick. In the case of the Italian
illustrations [M7 and M8], the stick bearer acts as a referee. On the other
hand, in the Splendor Solis [M12], the meaning may have been lost because the
character holds his stick as if he is about to throw it.
Curiously
at the Italian engraver Boldoni’s work [M6], a character seems behind the scene
trying to bend his sword, giving it a curved shape. This depiction may have
been distorted in the Splendor Solis [M12] where a second couple of fencers are
shown behind, holding curved weapons in their hands, in a guard stance similar
to those found in fight books.
The Children of Mars
The
text associated with this planet in [M11] indicates “I thrust, I cut, I hit and
fence, hence do also all my heirs (“Ich steche, ich schlahe, ich streit
vnd fechte. Also thut auch allern mein geschlechte”). It seems to associate the
fighter’s values with this planet. But the text of the poem of the cycle of the
children of the planets differs and shows children of Mars overheated,
quarrelsome, angry, thieves, plunderers and quick to war.[13] And in fact the scenes representing the
children of Mars are scenes of massacre, destruction, pillage. The separation
of the games of wrestling and fencing, linked to the positive values of the
sun, and war, at least in this system of values is by no means trivial. It is
in itself an answer to the question on the link between fight books and war:
German culture of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries visibly distinguished
between fencing and fighting in battle. In fact, in any case according to the
values translated in the cycle of the Children of the Planets, it is on the
contrary important to keep well separate the arts of war from those of
wrestling or fencing. By further pushing this distinction, it is possible to
say that the first destroys, and the second flourishes. However, it is not so
simple to establish this division because other value systems exist.
Other traditions of the Children of the Planets
It
was mentioned earlier that the specific tradition of the Children of the
Planets which is the subject of this study made up only part of the complete
cycles dealing with this theme.
German
sources thus have other traditions existing at the same time. For example, the
ms. Thott 290.2° offers a system of values associated with the planets which is
fairly close in general terms: the sun makes men well in their bodies, with a
blood temperament, that is to say, gay, active, or angry, in all cases, an
active temperament.[14] This source, however, does not take up the
poem from the main tradition of the children of the planets, nor does it offer
any illustration to accompany its text.
A
manuscript from Salzburg also offers insights to another tradition, keeping the
principle of large illustrations filled with symbols. But here the planets are
associated with the ages of life: for instance here the sun is associated with
adolescence.[15] The activities illustrated seem to mainly
take up stereotypes from these ages of life and therefore leave the register of
the main tradition
Outside
German spaces, the first large text on the cycle of the Children of the Planets
appears in a work by Christine de Pizan, the epistle of Othea, of which there
are illustrated copies throughout the fifteenth century, in which the
representation of Children of Planets differs greatly from the main German
tradition. By taking up a manuscript from the very beginning of the century,
the sun, or Phebus, sheds light on troubled things and personifies itself in
scholars, but absolutely not in the physical games of learning of the nobles.
And in parallel, the sons of Mars are depicted in a more positive manner: they are
knights accomplished in chivalry that obtain fame and value (“any knight who
loves or follows weapons and make chivalry and renown of value can be called
sons of Mars”).[16] Note that in this cultural space, it is
possible to find favourable relationships between blood humour and physical
activity, as in a French text of 1451: blood is inclined by its good comprehension
and its implication in the physical activities (“The blood […] has a good
subtle sense and inclination for bodily operations”).[17]
I
have already mentioned the advantage that the discipline of fencing could
derive from such a reputation made for its practice: it is seen in a positive,
healthy and favorable way for the bodies and dissociated a priori from
excessive violence. The dissemination of this thesis, in part thanks to this
astrological tradition, may have contributed to the ultimately late development
of the Fechtschulen. I do not bring any argument but note in any case that the
auspicious period of production of beautiful manuscripts taking up the cycle of
the Children of the Planets, between 1450 and 1480 corresponds to the
beginnings of these public fencing shows, of which we have not really a trace
before 1480. These shows would require the authorization of the authorities, but
also the enthusiasm of the public: they could only benefit from a favorable
opinion.
Possible influences of the Children of the Planets cycle on the world of fencing
The
association of the sun with fencers probably did not stop at the favourable
influence in public opinion. It is also possible that the fencers themselves adopted
and integrated this symbolic heritage: the zodiac sign of the lion and the
crown. The first is found associated indirectly with the German fencers in 1487
because the first brotherhood of the masters of the sword, created in Holy
German Empire, chose the patronage of Saint-Mark, symbolized by its winged
lion. The crown is another symbol of the sun is a regularly repeated symbol in
the form of laurel wreath, given to the winner, and taken up in numerous
engravings of the sixteenth century, up to the crown surrounding dussacks and
rapiers at the frontispiece of the cover page of the book by Joachim Meyer
printed in 1570: on the only upper banner on this page we can distinguish two
laurel wreaths, the crown with swords, and two bushels of arms surmounted by
shields and under which two lion heads spit foliage, all symbols related to the
sun.
Joachim Meyer, Gründtliche Beschreibung der Kunst des Fechtens (Strasbourg: Thiebolt Berger, 1570), frontpiece detail.
Conclusion
The estimated influence of concepts from astrology in German Renaissance culture has not been addressed in depth in this present article. However, it is impressive to observe what is now called martial arts and physical activities appear as allegories of children of the sun and thereby represent physical activities favourable to the body. Likewise it is important to note the consistency with which the sons of Mars are devalued, quarrelsome, and go to war.
It
would be interesting to investigate how this tradition spread in Europe. The
examples already show at least two important Italian sources [M6 and M7] which
share the same symbolism but without the written tradition. It is clear in any case
that this symbolism was widely picked up from the second half of the sixteenth
century by Dutch art, both in engravings and tapestries.[18]
It
would be interesting for future studies to focus closely to the parallels in
the form of alchemical discourse and compare it with that of fight books. This
will be the subject of a second article.
[M11] Erlangen-Nuremberg MS.B 26 University Library, fol.
280v, <https://nbn-resolving.org/urn:nbn:de:bvb:29-bv040674061-7>
[M12] Berlin Kupferstichkabinett, Nr. 78 D 3, 1532.
[M13] Erfurt/Gotha, University Library, ms.
Chart.A.558.
<https://nbn-resolving.org/urn:nbn:de:urmel-d010e5c0-48e3-4c36-afdb-ee09b55d647d6>
[M14] Nuremberg Ms 3227a,
<http://dlib.gnm.de/item/Hs3227a/1>
[M15] Copenhagen, Royal Library, ms. Thott.290.2º,
<http://www.kb.dk/manus/vmanus/2011/dec/ha/object23662/da/>
[M16] London, British Library, MS Harley 3542
<http://searcharchives.bl.uk/primo_library/libweb/action/dlDisplay.do?docId=IAMS040-002049374&fn=permalink&vid=IAMS_VU2>
Blume Dieter, ‘Children of the Planets: the
Popularization of Astrology in the 15th Century’, in Micrologus. Natura, scienze e società medievali. Nature, Sciences
and Medieval Societies. Rivista della Società Internazionale per lo Studio del
Medio Evo Latino, vol. 12 (2004), pp. 549-84.
Ciboule Robert, ‘Le Livre de saincte meditacion en
congnoissance de soy, ed. by André Combes’, in Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du moyen âge, vol. 8
(1933), pp. 176-224.
Füssli Hans Heinrich, Johann Waldmann, Ritter,
Bürgermeister der Stadt Zürich (Zurich: Orell, Gessner, Füssli et al.
1780).
Kotelmann Ludwig, Gesundheitspflege im Mittelalter.
Kulturgeschichtliche Studien nach Predigten des 13., 14. und 15. Jahrhunderts
(Salzwasser Verlag, 1890).
Pastoureau Michel, Jaune,
histoire d’une couleur (Paris : Seuil, 2019).
Schmitz-von Ledebur Katja, Die Planeten und ihre Kinder. Eine Brüsseler Tapisserienserie des 16.
Jahrhunderts aus der Sammlung Herzog Albrechts V. in München (Turnhout:
Brepols, 2009).
[1] To ease of reading, each manuscript or incunabula is referenced by
an Mxx-type code referring to its full description in the bibliography.
[4] Blume
Dieter, Children of the Planets. Klingner, Die Macht der Sterne, especially pp. 55-56.
[5] The article
« The Rose and the Pentagram » from Roger Norling does not deal
directly with the subject of the Children of the Planets, but offers a large
number of illustrations of the Children of the Sun from the studied tradition,
enough to give you a good overview: https://hroarr.com/article/the-rose-and-the-pentagram/
Medieval Europe remains an enduringly elusive
subject for the scholar, the historical fencer, and the interested layman. The
tropes and clichés popular culture provides equip us poorly to decipher the
enigmatic complexity of the world revealed in the ‘fight-books’ of men like
Hans Talhoffer and Fiore dei Liberi. And yet, there is a wealth of data
available for those with a serious interest in their world. Late Medieval
Europe was documented by busy bureaucracies (secular, civic and seigniorial) who
were each producing a wealth of written records, making it an almost unique
subject for this period.
One type of MS which is particularly useful to
modern researchers is the travelogue. Medieval travellers recorded memoirs
ranging from the purely fanciful but wildly popular Travels of Sir John Mandeville, to the (mostly) real but less artfully
crafted Travels of Marco Polo. Even
whimsical tales can provide valuable insights into the mind-set of their time,
while more grounded memoirs offer priceless hints into the day to day realities
of life in past centuries.
However, contemporaneous travelogues describing experiences within Latinized Europe are somewhat rarer. A unique account of a journey in the 15th Century, The Travels of Leo of Rozmital[1], records a diplomatic voyage of 40 men that took place entirely within “Christendom” across two years. Written during the expedition itself starting in 1465, these memoirs document conditions both on the rough roads and pathways of Late Medieval Europe as well as in the luxurious courts of the greatest princes of the time. Because the accounts of these travellers are well corroborated by many other sources derived from the places they visited, this relatively little known travelogue is potentially of great value to scholars.
The origin and context of this journey are also of interest, as the trip was organized on behalf of the enigmatic heretic King of Bohemia, Jiří z Poděbrad, known to the Germans as Georg von Podiebrad. This remarkable monarch found his nation, the predominantly Czech Kingdom of Bohemia, while facing a renewed Crusade instigated by a hostile Pope. Success in defending their homeland from the original Hussite Crusades of the 1420s- and in particular, their early mastery of the use of firearms in the open field, had earned the Czechs a considerable (begrudging) respect among the towns and principalities of Central Europe. Despite their status as heretics, Bohemian mercenaries were in high demand throughout the fifteenth century and fought in battles as far away as the Rhineland, and even on behalf of great prince-prelates such as Archbishop Dietrich of Cologne[2] and Emperor Frederick III.
The Bohemian expedition, led by Jaroslav Lev (“Leo”) of Rožmitál, a Czech noble of lower-princely rank allied by marriage to King Poděbrady, had two purposes: first, to build good relationships among the princely rulers and towns of Christian Europe, and second, a far more interesting and ambitious secret mission, which was to propose a general peace, the Tractatus pacis toti Christianitati fiendae, something like a precursor to the EU or the UN[3]. Though the idea of the universal treaty, centuries ahead of its time, did not take hold, the voyage was indeed something of a diplomatic success, blunting support for the Crusade, which was downgraded to a local war between Bohemia and Hungary.
However, the account
of the journey itself is of interest to us today. It survives in the form of
two written memoirs, each by one of the 12 knights accompanying the Baron. The
first is by a Czech minor noble, Václav Šašek z Bířkova. The second, by Gabriel Tetzel von
Nurnberg, is particularly interesting
regarding martial culture in medieval towns – because though he was part of the
knightly retinue as both bodyguard and representative to the Baron, he wasn’t a
noble at all but a high ranking burgher from Nuremberg.
The places they visited are of further interest, which aside from princely courts also included several towns and Free Cities. One visit in particular combined both elements, the princely court and the fabulous urban landscape, when they arrived in Bruges for a visit to the mighty Duke of Burgundy, Philippe Le Bon. The Baron and his entourage found a lavish welcome, as aside from the politics their role as travelling knights captured the imagination of the nobility and burghers. Additionally, the Bohemians’ reputation as warriors aroused great interest in seeing their martial skills put to the test. In many courts they jousted, grappled, and engaged in other feats of arms with their Flemish / Burgundian hosts, for example this grappling tournament which gives us some insight to the rules of the sport[4]:
“…at the third hour of the night, the Duke sent to [the Bohemian champion] John Zehrowsky and invited him to come with certain of the senior members of his company who wished to wrestle, saying that he would provide each with an opponent. Thereupon Lord John presented himself at the castle with those whom he had chosen. He entered the hall where the Duke was with three Duchesses, those of Burgundy, Cleves, and Guelders and other ladies and noble maidens. Then certain of the Duke’s attendants approached John Zehrowsky and informed him that he should prepare himself, as his opponents would shortly appear. Then Lord John enquired how the wrestling was to proceed, whether the wrestlers were to appear naked or in tunics. ‘In tunics’, was the answer, ‘for such is our custom, but it is prohibited by law to seize an opponent below the belt and to trip him up by the feet. Otherwise it is permitted to throw an opponent to the ground in whatever manner one wished. For it is the custom’, they said, ‘in our country to wear underclothes, that is tunic and hose, and it is no shame to wrestle thus clad, even though multitudes of matrons and maidens be present.’
The bout having started, the wrestler could do nothing against his opponent, Lord John, who threw him three times to the ground, at which the spectators were amazed. For it was said that his match was not to be found in all the dominions of the Duke of Burgundy, that he had not previously been beaten by any man at wrestling, and that for this reason he had received 500 gold pieces a year more than his usual wages. But perhaps he would now lose this reward, as he had been thrice overthrown.
After the wrestling match the Duke called Lord John to him dressed only in his tunic, as he had wrestled, and feeling all his limbs, feet and hands, examined his whole body and was amazed that his wrestler had been vanquished. Then the duke asked Lord John whether he had a worthy adversary against whom he could match a noble Count of his. Lord John had a man present called Kevard who wrestled with the count and threw him to the ground three times. Then Schaseck [the narrator] approached the Duke and said: ‘I beg, most illustrious prince, that your highness may appoint an adversary who may be thought to be my equal.’ Having heard this, the Duke ordered one to be summoned for him to wrestle with. As we wrestled I threw him once to the ground. But when by the Duke’s orders I renewed the contest, I was thrown down with such force that I thought the devil was behind it.”
Aside from grappling
tournaments, which took place several times in the narrative, the travellers
also experienced many other types of martial sports. One of the most unique was
an ice-skating fencing match, which also took place during the visit to the
court of Duke Philippe le Bon of Burgundy in Flanders:
“On the day on which my lord [Baron Rožmitál] took leave of the Duke we saw a marvellous spectacle. There is a park adjoining the castle with a lake which was then frozen over. The Duke ordered certain of his courtiers to go out to this park and to run a course on the frozen lake. They-there were twenty-eight of them- fought on foot [skates] withsuch agility that I can declare that never have I seen or heard of such agile men. One in particular was so skilful that he resisted alone the assault of twenty-two men. Such was their speed in running and turning that no horse could have kept up with them. I was curious to see what it was that they had on their feet which enabled them to move so swiftly on the ice. I could easily have done this, but I could not leave my lord who was looking on with the Duke. We saw many kinds of wild beasts in the park. After this my lord took leave of the Duke and his son [future Duke Charles the Bold].”
These two brief excerpts give us a hint of the types of martial sports routinely practiced by the burghers, courtiers and noblemen of Late Medieval Europe, and can perhaps offer us some useful insights into rare aspects of the martial culture of the period, such as the rules of martial games and competitions. The medieval travelogue is a valuable source providing us with a glimpse into a strange and remote world, but one which is also well documented.
[1] This entire section is derived from the 1957 translation as The Travels of Leo of Rozmital through Germany, Flanders, England, France, Spain, Portugal, and Italy, 1465-1467 by Malcolm Letts (Cambridge: Hakluyt Society, 1956).
[2] Archbishop Dietrich hired at least 6,000 Bohemian mercenaries during the infamous Soest feud of 1444-47. See Departure for Modern Europe: A Handbook of Early Modern Philosophy (1400-1700), Hubertus Busche [editor] (Felix Meiner Verlag, 2011) p. 100.
[3]Treaty on the Establishment of Peace throughout Christendom. Edit. Kejř J., Transl. Dvořák I. In VANĚČEK V., The Universal Peace Organization of King George of Bohemia a fifteenth Century Plan for World Peace 1462 / 1464. (Prague: Publishing House of the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences 1964) pp. 81-90.
[4] The following excerpt is transcribed from of The Travels of Leo of Rozmital through Germany, Flanders, England, France, Spain, Portugal, and Italy, 1465-1467 by Malcolm Letts (Cambridge: Hakluyt Society, 1956) pp. 36-37.
Regula Schmid published a commentary of the song by Veit Weber about the Battle of Grandson on the blog Translocations. Anthologie (A research blog that examines and comments on source texts since antiquity about looted art, art as war booty and the translocation of cultural assets).
Learn more about the author and its connection to the famous Bernese illustrated chronicles of Diebold Schilling (3 volumes with more than 600 illustrations), who include this song. Both Diebold Schilling and Veit Weber took part on the battle. An eye-opening commentary about cultural views on the first victory of the Swiss cities against the Duchy of Burgundy during the Burgundian wars.
Image of two men in fifteenth-century armour fighting on foot with pollaxes. Leeds, Royal Armouries, MS PHIL 1, fol. 1r.
Introduction
One of the more iconic images of the Middle Ages, common in
numerous aspects of popular culture, is that of two knightly champions engaged
in the judicial combat of a trial by battle.[1]
There is a particular example, however, from the middle of the fifteenth
century, that can offer some insights into various aspects of martial culture and
preparation for judicial combats in late medieval English urban centres.[2]
In London, during the autumn of 1446, a dispute arose not between two men at
arms or knights, but rather an armourer’s apprentice, John Davy, and his master,
William Catour. Davy had accused his master of ‘treson ymagined and doon
ayenste’ King Henry VI, and as the truth of the matter could not be determined
by conventional legal means, it was decided that it would be resolved in a
trial by combat.[3]
What would go on to happen in the fight was so unusual that it would even be
recounted in William Shakespeare’s Henry
VI, Part 2.
Preparations for the Combat
A particular aspect which separates this instance of trial
by combat from others is in the details surrounding the preparations for the fight,
such as those relating to some of the individuals appointed to train the
appellant and defendant. Privy council records indicate that Philip Treher, Master
Hugh Payne, and John Latimer were hired for the purpose of ‘teching certain
pointes of armis’ to Davy and Catour (Treher was appointed to Davy, whilst the
other two taught Catour). Whilst the names mean little by themselves, a
particularly striking detail is that Treher – appointed by the crown to prepare
a man to defend his own life – is described not as a professional master of
arms, but as ‘Philip Treher fyshmonger’.[4]
The answers as to where, when, and how Philip Treher acquired his skill at arms
remain unknowable, but there is plenty of evidence demonstrating a widespread
practice of martial arts amongst the lower classes in late medieval and
Renaissance London from coroners’ rolls, legal statutes, and even the records of
the sixteenth-century fencing organisation the Company of Masters of Defence.[5]
Whilst no account of how Davy was trained by Treher, the 1448 Fechtbuch of a German fencing master,
Hans Talhoffer, prescribes that combatants involved in a judicial duel should
train by means of physical activities (he mentions stone and javelin throwing),
ritualised processes (regular shaving, praying, and anointing), and engaging in
pleasant pursuits (for example listening to music, bathing, and hunting). Talhoffer
further states that the combatant should train, in secret, for two hours in the
morning and two after noon.[6]
Trial by Battle
On the morning of the combat, both men donned their armour,
made their peace with God, and prepared to fight for their lives. There was, however,
one crucial difference in their final preparations which would have a dramatic
impact on the outcome. In order to calm Catour’s (understandably) nervous
disposition, his friends had plied him with ‘so moch wyne and good ale, that he
was therwith distemperyd’.[7]
Having imbibed too much alcohol he was soon in no condition to produce a
competent defence. Whilst there is no detailed narrative of the fight, there
are other examples of judicial duels fought in the same location, Smithfield,
for which descriptions survive that can show what such combats were like.[8]
For example, one fight between John Annesley and Thomas Catteron in 1380
finished with Catterton unable to continue the fight (and summarily executed)
as a result of the heat, weight of his harness, and energy he had expended
whilst wrestling on the ground.[9]
An even more gruesome end punctuated the resolution of a desperate encounter
between Thomas Whytehorne and James Fyscher. This fight, which happened almost
a decade after the one between Davy and Catour, witnessed how Whytehorne ‘caste
that meke innocent (Fyscher) downe to the grownde and bote hym by the membrys’,
that is to say his genitalia. Fyscher responded by biting his opponent’s nose
and gouging out his eyes.[10]
Given the bloody nature of these fights, it is not difficult to envision how
horribly Catour must have been ‘ouercomyn and slayne’ by his former apprentice.[11]
His loss in the combat proved the truth of the case, and it was thus determined
that he was the traitor that he had been accused of being. The chronicler William
Gregory relates that ‘the mayster was slayne and dyspoylde owte of hys harnys,
and lay stylle in the fylde alle that day and that nyght next folowynge. And
thenne afty[r]ward, by the kyngys commaundement, he was d[r]awyn, hanggyde, and
be-heddyde, and hys hedde sette on London Brygge, and the body hynggyng a-bove
erthe be-syde the towre’.[12]
As for Philip Treher, the fishmonger and part-time fencing
master who had educated the victorious Davy, he was clearly considered to be an
instructor of some ability: he had already been employed in 1446 on the same
grounds to teach Thomas fitz-Thomas, the Hospitaller prior of Kilmainham Abbey,
pertaining to a suit he had brought against the Earl of Ormonde, and was hired again
in 1453 for a case involving John Lyalton and Robert Norreys.[13]
These other cases allow us to build a more complete image of Treher as a
fencer: Lyalton and Norreys, for example, were to fight with glaives, short
swords, daggers, and axes (instead of longswords), indicating some of the
weapons with which Treher was likely proficient.[14]
Nor was Treher paid poorly for this work: he was compensated with £20 for
teaching Davy and the prior, approximately the equivalent value of either fifty
cows, six hundred and sixty six days of wages for a skilled labourer, or
£12,488.10 in today’s terms.[15]
Conclusion
Ultimately, the story of Davy and Catour offers a small but
valuable insight into late medieval urban martial culture in England. It is a
valuable reminder that judicial combats (and martial prowess), despite their
modern chivalric depictions, were not solely within the purview of knighthood
and the nobility. Given the limited details available for fencing masters known
to have existed in fifteenth-century England, it also serves as an important
insight as to what their careers could look like and how they could expect to
be paid, although a contact with the crown was likely much more financially
rewarding than a fencing master could expect from clients.
A final word, however, should be given to events which took
place some time after the execution of William Catour. Although found guilty in
the trial, two later sources – Fabyan’s chronicle, and the later retelling of
the narrative by Shakespeare – both imply that Catour was innocent, and had
been accused maliciously. In Henry VI.
Part 2 his character (renamed to Thomas Horner), exclaims that he is
‘falsely accused by the villain’ as revenge for striking him.[16]
Given the fate of Davy, this may have been true. This judicial combat was not
to be John Davy’s final run in with the law: he himself was eventually
sentenced to death by hanging for committing an unnamed felony, raising all
sorts of questions about the veracity of the claims that he had brought against
the man who had one been his own master and teacher.[17]
Acknowledgements: Thank you to Dr Karen Watts and Messrs Samuel Bradley and Iain Dyson for their thoughts.
[1] For an overview of single
combat in modern media and its link to historical sources, see Jacob Henry
Deacon, ‘La Posta di Falcone and La Porta di Ferro: Depictions of Combat in
Medieval and Modern Media’, in The Middle
Ages in Modern Culture: History and Authenticity in Contemporary Medievalism,
ed. by Robert Houghton and Karl Alvestad (London: I. B Taurus, forthcoming).
[2] For trial by combat in late
medieval England see Ariella Elema, ‘Trial by Battle in France and England’
(unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Toronto, 2012).
[3]Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, Volume 6,
ed. by Harris Nicolas (London: G. Eyre and A. Spottiswoode, 1837), p. 56.
[4]Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, Volume 6,
p. 59.
[5] For the records of the
Company of Masters, see London, British Library, MS Sloane 2530. A
transcription of the manuscript has been published, see Herbert Berry, The Noble Science: A Study and Transcription
of Sloane Ms. 2530, Papers of the Masters of Defence of London, Temp. Henry
VIII to 1590 (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 1991).
[6] For an analysis of
Talhoffer’s approach to trial by combat, see Daniel Jaquet, ‘Six Weeks to
Prepare for Combat: Instruction and Practices from the Fight Books at the End
of the Middle Ages, a Note on Ritualised Single Combats’, in Killing and Being Killed: Bodies in Battle.
Perspectives on Fighters in the Middle Ages, ed. by Jörg Rogge (Bielefeld:
Transcript Verlag, 2017), pp. 131-64.
[7] Robert Fabyan, The New Chronicles of England and France,
ed. by Henry Ellis (London: F. C. & J. Rivington, 1811) p. 618.
[8] Smithfield was one of the
most important centres of martial activity in medieval England. It was used not
only for staging judicial combats, but also jousts and other tournament
activity. For a summary of such formal combats see Rachel Whitbread, ‘Tournaments,
Jousts and Duels: Formal Combats in England and France, circa 1380-1440’
(unpublished doctoral thesis, University of York, 2013).
[9] Thomas Walsingham, The Chronica Maiora of Thomas Walsingham,
1376-1422, trans. by David Preest (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2005), pp. 105-06.
[10]The Historical Collections of a Citizen of London in the Fifteenth
Century, ed. by James Gairdner (London: Camden Society, 1876) pp. 199-202.
[12]The Historical Collections of a Citizen of London, p. 187.
[13]Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, Volume 6,
pp. 57-59 and p. 129.
[14]Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, Volume 6,
p. 129.
[15]Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, Volume 6;
Figures calculated with The National Archives’ currency converter, online:
<http: http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/currency-converter> (accessed 03/09/2019).
[16] William Shakespeare, Henry VI, Part 2, 1.3.192-94.
[17] Fabyan, The New Chronicles of England and France, p. 618.
