Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlements: 4 [1° ed.] 250356979X, 9782503569796

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Monastic Europe

MEDIEVAL MONASTIC STUDIES General Editors Janet Burton, University of Wales Trinity Saint David Karen Stöber, Universitat de Lleida Editorial Board Frances Andrews, University of St Andrews David Austin, University of Wales Trinity Saint David Edel Bhreathnach, University College Cork Guido Cariboni, Universita Cattolica del Sacro Cuore di Milano Megan Cassidy-Welch, Monash University James Clark, University of Exeter Albrecht Diem, Syracuse University Marilyn Dunn, University of Glasgow Sarah Foot, Oxford University, Christ Church Paul Freedman, Yale University Alexis Grélois, Université de Rouen Martin Heale, University of Liverpool Emilia Jamroziak, University of Leeds Kurt Villads Jensen, Syddansk Universitet William Chester Jordan, Princeton University József Laszlovszky, Central European University Budapest Julian Luxford, University of St Andrews Colmán Ó Clabaigh, Glenstal Abbey Tadhg O’Keeffe, University College Dublin Jens Röhrkasten, University of Birmingham Antonio Sennis, University College London Orri Vésteinsson, University of Iceland

Previously published volumes in this series are listed at the back of the book.

Volume 4

Monastic Europe Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement Edited by

Edel Bhreathnach, Małgorzata Krasnodębska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

© 2019, Brepols Publishers n.v., Turnhout, Belgium All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. D/2019/0095/46 ISBN: 978-2-503-56979-6 e-ISBN: 978-2-503-57906-1 DOI: 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.114810 ISSN: 2565-8697 e-ISSN: 2565-9758 Printed in the EU on acid-free paper

Contents

List of Illustrations

ix

Preface Edel Bhreathnach, Małgorzata Krasnodębska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith

Introduction Edel Bhreathnach

xix

1

Identifying the familia monastica in Medieval Europe The Nature of Pre-‘Reform’ Irish Monasticism Edel Bhreathnach

St Sunniva, the Seljumenn, and St Alban: The Benedictines and the Sanctuary at Selja, Norway Alf Tore Hommedal

Monasticism, Lordship, and State‑Building in Twelfth-Century Cumbria Richard Thomason

Tensions in a Border Abbey: Strata Marcella, its Patrons, Friends, and Enemies Janet Burton

21

45

73

103

Contents

vi

The Blackfriars of Trim, Co. Meath and the Legacy of Geoffrey de Geneville Finola O’Carroll

Tales of War and Pilgrimage: The Archive of Santa Maria de Vilabertran in Catalonia Karen Stöber

The Cloister, Heart of Monastic Life Elizabeth Valdez del Álamo

The Cistercians and the Laity in Thirteenth-Century Italy: The familia monastica Guido Cariboni

121

155

171

195

The Role of Monasticism in Shaping Landscapes and Settlement Patterns City Building and Monastic Institutions in East Central Europe: The Significance of the religiones novae during the Foundation Years of Prague’s Old Town (c. 1220s–1250s) Frederik Felskau

Rivals to Cathedrals: The Architecture of Benedictine Churches in Northern France, 1100–1500 Dany Sandron

Transforming Women Religious? Church Reform and the Archaeology of Female Monasticism in Ireland Tracy Collins

Monasticism in a Border Landscape: Religious Orders in Medi­eval Finland Visa Immonen

215

257

277

303

Contents

vii

Settlement At Blackfriars Priory: Dominican Priories within Urban Geo­graphy in Medi­eval Scandinavia Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen

Franciscan Geo­graphy in Medieval Portugal: Architecture, Landscape, and Spirituality Catarina Almeida Marado

Ordo Sancti Pauli Primi Eremitae: Monasteries and the Shaping of the Late Medi­eval Slavonian Cultural and Historic Landscape prior to the Battle of Mohács (1526) Tajana Pleše

331

357

383

Monastic Environments and Economies New Light on Caesarius’s Abbey: Recent Excavations at the Cistercian Monastery of Heisterbach, Germany Christoph Keller

The Landholding and Landscape Exploitation of Coupar Angus Abbey: Granges and Glenisla Victoria Hodgson

This Belongs to Us! Competition between the Royal Burgh of Stirling and the Augustinian Abbey of Cambuskenneth over Salmon Fishing Rights on the River Forth, Scotland Richard C. Hoffmann and Alasdair Ross

Riverine Monasticism in the Kingdom of Hungary: Navigation on the Lower Mureș and the Benedictine Abbey of Bizere Oana Toda

407

431

451

477

Contents

viii

Convents and Basque Familial Networks of Power Nere Jone Intxaustegi Jauregi

‘Shadows of Ghosts’: Rediscovering the Special Places  of Medi­eval Female Monasteries through Experiential Approaches to Landscape Kimm Curran

Index

503

523 545

List of Illustrations

Edel Bhreathnach Table 1.1. List of monastic hierarchy in mid eleventh-century Armagh. . . . . . 35 Alf Tore Hommedal Figure 2.1. The cultural heritage site at Selja, an aerial view, with the sanctuary and the Benedictine abbey with the tower. . . . . . . . . . . 44 Figure 2.2. St Sunniva flanked by St Peter and St Mary Magdalene, altarpiece from Austevoll, south of Bergen, c. 1510. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 Figure 2.3. Sanctuary at Selja, view from south-west, with the restored stone terrace in three levels. The ruins of St Sunniva’s Church and the rock shelter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 Figure 2.4. Sanctuary of Selja with St Sunniva’s Church and the ruins of the Benedictine abbey, as seen from the south-east. . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 Map 2.1. Map of the southern part of medi­eval Norway, showing Selja and Bergen, the two main cult centres associated with St Sunniva and the Seljumenn. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 Map 2.2. Outline of the sanctuary and the monastery at Selja. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 Map 2.3. Location of religious houses in medi­eval Norway. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 Map 2.4. Sites associated with the cult of St Sunniva and the Seljumenn in the Nordic countries and northern Germany. . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 Richard Thomason Figure 3.1. The patrons of St Bees. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81

x

list of iLLUSTRATIONS

Finola O’Carroll Figure 5.1. The Dominican priory, Trim. The north wall of the church. . . . . 132 Figure 5.2. The Dominican priory, Trim, with the excavated section looking eastwards along the south wall of the south aisle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134 Figure 5.3. The Dominican priory, Trim, excavated sections showing the north-west corner of the cloister wall with the corner buttress. . . . . . 135 Figure 5.4. The Dominican priory, Trim, excavated sections showing the south-west corner of the cloister with the corner buttress. . . . . . . . . . 136 Figure 5.5. The Dominican priory, Trim, view of the east range, looking north. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 Figure 5.6. Tentative plan of the Dominican priory in Trim, with a suggested outline of the buildings. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144 Figure 5.7. Two pieces of Purbeck marble sliced for thin-sectioning showing red and greenish shades. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Map 5.1. Map of Trim with the Dominican priory located on the north side of town. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122 Table 5.1. Principal elements of the friary giving their location in the excavations and the years during which they were excavated. . . . . . . . 129 Table 5.2. Dates obtained from some of the burials at the Black Friary, Trim. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 Elizabeth Valdez del Álamo Figure 7.1. Cloister of Santo Domingo de Silos. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 Figure 7.2. Hypothetical plan of the church and cloister of Santo Domingo de Silos, c. 1200. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172 Figure 7.3. Plan of Saint-Pierre of Moissac, c. 1200. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173 Figure 7.4. Plan of Fontenay Abbey. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 Figure 7.5. Plan of Saint-Trophîme in Arles. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175 Figure 7.6. Oblate reading in the cloister of Santo Domingo de Silos, c. 1900. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179

list of iLLUSTRATIONS

xi

Figure 7.7. Community enters the church from the cloister of Santo Domingo de Silos, April 1977. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 180 Figure 7.8. Fontenay Abbey, stairway from a dormitory to the church, c. 1119. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181 Figure 7.9. Santo Domingo de Silos, image of the Three Women at the Tomb of Christ on the north-east pier of the cloister. . . . . . . . . . . . 182 Figure 7.10. Saint-Trophîme, Arles, image of the Three Women at the Tomb of Christ, on the north-east pier of the cloister. . . . . . . . . . . . 184 Figure 7.11. Santo Domingo de Silos, entrance to the chapter house, capital depicting apes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 Figure 7.12. Santo Domingo de Silos, capital 8 of the cloister’s east gallery depicting dragons. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 Figure 7.13. Moissac, capital 25 in the cloister’s east gallery, depicting Christ washing Peter’s feet. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188 Figure 7.14. Santo Domingo de Silos, capital 40 of the cloister’s west gallery, depicting Christ washing Peter’s feet. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188 Frederik Felskau Figure 9.1. Drawing of the monastery of the Knights of the Cross/ Crosiers with the Red Heart in Prague by F. B. Werner, c. 1740. . . . . . . . 218 Figure 9.2. St Peter’s Church, Prague. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218 Figure 9.3. View of the so-called Town of St Gall, Prague. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225 Figure 9.4. Church of St Gall, Prague. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 226 Figure 9.5. Prague, St Clement’s Church extra muros. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228 Figure 9.6. Ungelt court, Prague. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229 Figure 9.7. St James’s Franciscan Church, Prague. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Figure 9.8. St Agnes’s double monastery, Prague. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Figure 9.9. St Saviour’s chapel in St Agnes’s monastery, Prague. . . . . . . . . . . . 232 Figure 9.10. St Peter’s Church, Prague. Emblem with a cross referring to the presence of the Crusaders of the Red Star. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233

xii

list of iLLUSTRATIONS

Figure 9.11. Main entrance to St Peter’s Church, Prague. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 Figure 9.12. Facade of St Clement’s Church with the Klementinum complex, Prague. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234 Figure 9.13. Unknown painter, Charles Bridge in Prague, second half of the eighteenth century. St Anne’s church, Lubawka. . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 Figure 9.14. St Francis’s Church, Prague. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Map 9.1. Location of religiones novae prior to and during the constitution of the Old Town in Prague. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 Map 9.2. Location of religious houses by town gates and bridges of Prague’s Old Town. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 Dany Sandron Figure 10.1. The dioceses of northern France. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259 Figure 10.2. Saint-Germain-des-Prés, Paris, choir. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259 Figure 10.3. Saint-Remi, Reims. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260 Figure 10.4. ‘La ville et citadelle de Noyon’, engraving by Claude Chastillon, first half of the seventeenth century. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 Figure 10.5. Saint-Eloi Abbey, Noyon, plan by Dom Hilaire Pinet, 1659. . . 262 Figure 10.6. Notre-Dame Cathedral, Paris, ground plan of the early thirteenth-century church. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 Figure 10.7. Keystone of the apse of the former abbey of Saint-Eloi, Musée du Noyonnais, Noyon. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 Figure 10.8. Noyon, cathedral, central nave. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 Figure 10.9. Saint-Crépin-le-Grand, Soissons, plan dated to 1657. . . . . . . . . 266 Figure 10.10. Saint-Crépin-le-Grand, Soissons. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Figure 10.11. Marmoutier, the abbey as depicted in the seventeenth century. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Figure 10.12. Abbey of Saint-Martial, Limoges. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269

list of iLLUSTRATIONS

xiii

Figure 10.13. Reims, ground plan of the cathedral following Archbishop Samson’s transformations in the mid-twelfth century . . . . . . 270 Figure 10.14. Abbey of Saint-Vincent, Laon. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Figure 10.15. Abbey of Saint-Vincent, Laon, engraving based on Tavernier de Jonquières. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Figure 10.16. Rouen, view of the town from the south bank of the River Seine. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272 Figure 10.17. Saint-Germain Abbey, Auxerre. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273 Tracy Collins Figure 11.1. Killevy nunnery, Co. Armagh, west church with a reused trabeate doorway. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 290 Figure 11.2. Killone nunnery, Co. Clare, viewed from south-west. . . . . . . . . 291 Map 11.1 Map of Ireland showing locations of thirty-three medi­eval nunneries. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285 Table 11.1. List of nunneries founded throughout the twelfth century in Ireland. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284 Visa Immonen Map 12.1. The Dominican friary of St Olaf in Turku. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 308 Map 12.2. Reconstruction of the plan of Vyborg town during the sixteenth century. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313 Map 12.3. The centre of Rauma with the friary church in the north and the remains of the former parish church in the south. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 316 Map 12.4. The plan of the Franciscan friary on Kökar Island. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317 Map 12.5. The plan of the Bridgettine monastery in Naantali. . . . . . . . . . . . . 320

xiv

list of iLLUSTRATIONS

Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen Map 13.1. Location of Dominican houses in Dacia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 333 Map 13.2. Location of religious houses in medi­eval Roskilde. . . . . . . . . . . . . 336 Map 13.3. Location of religious houses in medi­eval Bergen. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 337 Map 13.4. Location of religious houses in medi­eval Tallinn. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 347 Map 13.5. Location of religious houses in medi­eval Helsingør. . . . . . . . . . . . 350 Catarina Almeida Marado Figure 14.1. Bragança, early sixteenth century. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 368 Figure 14.2. Franciscan friary, Évora, 2002. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 369 Figure 14.3. The remains of the Franciscan friary, Loulé, as seen in 1940. . . 370 Figure 14.4. Franciscan friary, Viana do Castelo. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 373 Figure 14.5. Franciscan friary, Marvão, as seen in 1943. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 376 Map 14.1. Franciscan founda­tions in Portugal (1201–25). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 361 Map 14.2. Franciscan foundations in Portugal (1226–50). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 361 Map 14.3. Franciscan foundations in Portugal (1251–75). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 363 Map 14.4. Location of the Franciscan friary in Évora. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 366 Map 14.5. Location of the Franciscan friary in Bragança. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 367 Map 14.6. Franciscan foundations in Portugal (1276–1375). . . . . . . . . . . . . . 371 Map 14.7. Franciscan foundations in Portugal (1376–1400). . . . . . . . . . . . . . 372 Map 14.8. Franciscan foundations in Portugal (1401–1500). . . . . . . . . . . . . . 374 Table 14.1. Number of mendicant foundations in Portugal, established per century, between the thirteenth and the fifteenth centuries. . . . . . . . . 358 Table 14.2 Number of mendicant foundations in Portugal, established per quarter of the century, between the thirteenth and the fifteenth centuries. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 358

list of iLLUSTRATIONS

xv

Tajana Pleše Figure 15.1. Aerial view of Pauline monastery of St Peter and subsequent alterations after the completion of excavation and conservation works in 2015. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 396 Figure 15.2. Aerial view of the church of the Pauline monastery of the Blessed Virgin Mary at Moslavina Mountain following the excavations in 2015. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 398 Christoph Keller Figure 16.1. Elevation of the northern facade of the abbey church at Heisterbach. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 416 Figure 16.2. The tunnel in the tuffa stratum leading towards one of the wells of Heisterbach. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 417 Figure 16.3. The quarry at the Stenzelberg Mountain. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 418 Figure 16.4. Ruins of the choir at the church of Heisterbach abbey. . . . . . . . 419 Figure 16.5. Unfinished capital of the choir arcade. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 420 Figure 16.6. Plan of the abbey church and the claustral complex. . . . . . . . . . . 421 Figure 16.7. Reconstruction of the cloister arcade. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 423 Figure 16.8. Remains of the cellar below the claustral west wing. . . . . . . . . . . 424 Figure 16.9. Door frame made for Heisterbach Abbey in 1706. . . . . . . . . . . . 424 Map 16.1. Heisterbach and the Siebengebirge region. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 411 Map 16.2. Medi­eval settlements in the vicinity of Heisterbach. . . . . . . . . . . . 412 Map 16.3. A small medi­eval granary in the hamlet of Heisterbach. . . . . . . . . 414 Richard C. Hoffmann and Alasdair Ross Figure 18.1. Bell tower, Cambuskenneth Abbey. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 453 Figure 18.2. Remains of Craigforth cruives. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 456 Figure 18.3. Netting site on River Forth at Craigforth. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 462 Figure 18.4. River Beauly cruive. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 463

xvi

list of iLLUSTRATIONS

Oana Toda Figure 19.1. Magnetic intensity at Bizere archaeo­logical site, with geo­logical features highlighted in a dotted line and the position of the geoelectrical resistivity. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 483 Figure 19.2. Geoelectrical resistivity sections from the north-eastern corner of the Bizere archaeo­logical site. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 484 Figure 19.3. Damage by the water flow on the main and northern collateral apses of the Bizere Abbey basilica. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 485 Figure 19.4. Ground plan of the built structures from the north-eastern corner of the Bizere monastic complex. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 486 Figure 19.5. Circular pillar from the north-eastern corner of the monastic complex. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 489 Figure 19.6. Embankment work at the eastern limit of the monastery island. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 490 Figure 19.7. Seal of the urban authorities of Lipova, 29 March 1544. . . . . . . 492 Figure 19.8. Iron sintels used for plank boats and repair patches retrieved from the Bizere archaeo­logical site. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 494 Figure 19.9. Mortar imprint of the logboat. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 496 Figure 19.10. Large fishing hooks found at the Bizere archaeo­logical site. . . 497 Map 19.1. Monastic foundations along the Mureş River in the time of the Árpádian dynasty. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 479 Map 19.2. Detail from the Delineatio Dominii regio Cameralis Aradiensis, 1786. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 481 Map 19.3. Reconstruction of the historical riverbed and old secondary channels of the Mureș River in the area of Bizere Abbey. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 482 Map 19.4. Sources of the lithic building material employed in the construction of Bizere Abbey according to the petro­graphic analysis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 489

list of iLLUSTRATIONS

xvii

Nere Jone Intxaustegi Jauregi Map 20.1. Map of the Basque Country with the provinces of Biscay, Gipuzkoa, and Alava. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 510 Map 20.2. Location of the female convents founded between the fourteenth and seventeenth centuries in the Basque Country. . . . . . . . . . 511 Table 20.1. List of all the known Basque conventual founders, including names of convents, their foundation dates, and the background of the founders. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 506 Kimm Curran Figure 21.1. Abbey St Bathans, parish church, Scottish Borders. . . . . . . . . . . 531 Figure 21.2. Abbey St Bathans, Nuns’ Well, Scottish Borders. . . . . . . . . . . . . 532 Figure 21.3. Coldstream, Market Square, Scottish Borders. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 536 Figure 21.4. Eccles House Gardens, view from the remains of the dormitory range. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 539 Map 21.1. Location of Eccles Priory, Abbey St Bathan’s Priory, and Coldstream Priory in the Scottish Borders. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 529

Preface Edel Bhreathnach, Małgorzata Krasnodębska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith

T

he concept for the Monastic Ireland Project1 developed from the template of the Monastic Wales Project and from the increasing interest among scholars in the medi­eval orders and their houses in both countries. The initial aim of both projects was to create a cultural heritage resource built on solid, yet accessible, academic research relating to medi­eval monastic houses in Ireland and Wales.2 In addition, the information gathered would form the basis of dedicated research publications,3 and in the case of Ireland, this led to the academic project ‘Monastic Ireland: Landscape and Settlement ad 1100–1700’ which was funded by the Irish Research Council.4 This specific 1  We would like to acknowledge all those who have worked on Monastic Ireland since its inception: Professor Rachel Moss, Drs Niamh Nic Ghabhann, Elaine Pereira Farrell, Miriam Clyne, and Annejulie Lafaye and all those who have collaborated with us: Rhys Jenkins, Dr Danielle O’Donovan, Ultan O’Brien, and Dr Colmán Ó Clabaigh osb. We are particularly grateful to the Monastic Wales team and especially Professor Janet Burton and Dr Karen Stöber. 2  This information can be accessed on www.monastic.ie and www.monasticwales.org. 3  See for example Janet Burton and Karen Stöber, eds, Monastic Wales: New Approaches (Cardiff: Uni­ver­sity of Wales Press, 2013); Annejulie Lafaye, ‘The Dominicans in Ireland: A Comparative Study of the East Munster and Leinster Settlements’, Journal of Medi­eval Monastic Studies, 4 (2015), 77–106; Annejulie Lafaye, ‘Les franciscains en Irlande: architecture et espaces internes’, Études franciscaines, 9.1 (2016), 103–46. 4  The Monastic Ireland project has been funded through the Fáilte Ireland Applied Research Scheme and Department of Arts Heritage and the Gaeltacht (Built Heritage Scheme), Uni­ver­sity College Dublin (2011–13), the Irish Research Council (2014–16), and the Discovery Programme: Centre for Archaeo­logy and Innovation Ireland (2013–14, 2016–17).

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project focuses on the landscape and nature of monastic settlements and their environments and consists of three strands: (a) the transformation of monasticism in Ireland, ad 1050–1300; (b) the urban and rural monastic landscape in late medi­eval Ireland; and (c) the changes to the medi­eval monastic landscape following the Reformation in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. A key objective of the Monastic Ireland project is to introduce the Irish evidence into the wider European narrative on medi­e val monasticism, and to do so across a range of disciplines. This wish led to the organization of the ‘Monastic Europe: Landscape and Settlement’ international conference held in Ennis, County Clare in August 2015. Located in the west of Ireland, the town of Ennis is the site of a thirteenth-century Franciscan house with very fine fifteenth-century carvings. Ennis is also the central point of a region in the south-west of Ireland that is particularly rich in monastic ruins. The visits to these places in the Irish countryside not only introduced our colleagues to the medi­e val landscape in Ireland but provided many enjoyable moments for all of us. The conference covered a breadth of topics and its geo­g raphical extent was particularly notable with papers reflecting a pan-European sweep: from Ireland, Scotland, Wales, France, Spain, Portugal, the Basque region, Germany, Croatia, Romania, Czech Republic, Denmark, Finland, Sweden, and Norway. Three common themes, communities, landscapes, and settlements, were evident in all papers and these universal themes are reflected in the title of this present volume.

Acknowledgements The editors wish to acknowledge the financial support of the Irish Research Council, the Discovery Programme: Centre for Archaeo­logy and Innovation Ireland, School of History Uni­ver­sity College Cork, CACSSS Publication Fund and Shannon Region Conference and Sports Bureau.

Introduction Edel Bhreathnach How the Brothers Should Go through the World When the brothers go through the world, let them take nothing for the journey, neither knapsack, nor purse, nor bread, nor money, nor walking stick. Whatever house they enter, let them first say: Peace to this house. They may eat and drink what is placed before them for as long as they stay  in that house.  Let them not resist anyone evil, but whoever strikes them on one cheek, let them offer him the other as well.  Whoever takes their cloak, let them not withhold their tunic. Let them give to all who ask of them and whoever takes what is theirs, let them not seek to take it back. First Rule of St Francis of Assisi (chapter 14)1

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n his First Rule, St Francis of Assisi expressed the very essence of the monastic phenomenon of transcending the world while at the same time belonging to it. Monastic houses, be they those of monastic or mendicant orders, reflect a particular culture in their foundations. This culture is composed of their spirituality and liturgy, their rules and customs, their locations in the landscape, their economies, and their art and architecture. It is influenced by the wider familia monastica, consisting not only of their core community, but also of communities far beyond their immediate environs. The conference held in Ennis, County Clare in Ireland in August 2015 as part of the Monastic 1 

Francis of Assisi, trans. by Armstrong, Hellmann, and Short, i, 73, for the Latin text see [accessed 10 August 2018]. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 1–18 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117256

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Ireland Project, on which this volume is based, concentrated on monasticism in medi­eval Europe based on the all-encompassing themes of communities, landscapes, and settlements. The response to the call for papers was instructive in that the geo­graphical coverage was extensive and diverse ranging from Ireland, to Scotland and Wales, France, Scandinavia, Central, Eastern, and South-Eastern Europe, and the Iberian Peninsula. The location of the conference, in the west of Ireland, clearly attracted scholars who may have felt an affinity with a region that is often perceived to be among those in extremis terris. Conversely, this may also have had the adverse effect on those studying regions conventionally regarded as the ‘core’, such as England and Italy, as they did not respond to the call. In compiling the volume this gap was recognized and papers were sought from scholars working on monasticism in these particular regions. Unintentionally, therefore, the Ennis conference revealed an existing ‘political’ aspect of the historio­graphy of monasticism, in that the interaction between scholarly worlds reflecting various identities and cultures is not always as open or receptive as might be expected. The editors hope that in bringing together such a diverse collection of papers that monasticism in medi­eval Europe in its many hues will be appreciated more fully and become part of the general discourse on the subject. Similarly, the evidence of a wide range of disciplines including archaeo­logy, art and architecture, landscape studies, psychogeo­ graphy, source analysis, and religious studies, is utilized to demonstrate the deep impact that monastic and mendicant communities had on medi­eval societies and landscapes throughout Europe. This impact endures to the present, even if this is not immediately obvious to modern communities. Broad themes such as communities, landscapes, and settlements are universally applicable, and while the papers in this volume have responded to these general themes, their analysis of monasticism in medi­e val Europe addressed many other specific topics that emerged during the conference. Common themes came to the fore and refined the more universal ones, and these are reflected in the final thematic layout of the volume: –– Identifying the familia monastica in Medi­eval Europe –– The Role of Monasticism in Shaping Landscapes and Settlement Patterns –– Monastic Environments and Economies In the world of monastic studies, these are not surprising topics. What is different is that these well-trodden paths are applied to a diverse variety of places and peoples. The resulting narrative offers a vibrant reflection of medi­eval European monasticism in all its similarities and diverse complexity. Hence, while medi­

Introduction

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eval monastic and mendicant orders were international organizations, which maintained at their core an international character and modus operandi, the landscapes in which they settled and the peoples among whom they lived usually added different characteristics to that international core. In some instances, this resulted in a significant divergence from what is perceived to be the norm. In most cases, however, once differences of landscape, language, or customs are taken into account, common patterns emerge from the diversity. And, of course, this is not a static narrative, as in various regions, events, and movements that influenced the shape of monasticism, occur at different times, as in the case of the late Christianization of Scandinavia or the varying rates of urban development throughout Europe. The period covered in the volume primarily post-dates the rise of the international monastic and mendicant orders from the twelfth century to the sixteenth-century Reformation. A number of papers fall outside this timeline but nevertheless are relevant to the discussion. My own paper on pre-twelfth-century Irish monasticism and Kimm Curran’s paper on identifying the imprint of monasticism in a modern Scottish landscape, are to be viewed as ‘bookends’ in the volume. They focus more on theoretical than definitive subjects, one attempting to grasp a form of ‘hybrid monasticism’2 regarded as outside the internationally recognized medi­e val norm, and the other searching for the apparently lost footprint of female monastic houses in modern Scottish landscapes.

Identifying the familia monastica in Medi­eval Europe The familia monastica might consist of a community of men or women following a particular lifestyle or rule but in its wider sense, it was comprised of a wider community: the greater familia of a particular founder saint, a foundation’s patrons, the laity in a foundation’s environs, or a specific community (e.g. merchants, fishermen) associated with a foundation. What was the essential familia monastica? One general definition states that it consists of men and women bound by ‘a single-minded commitment to religious life conducted apart from the surrounding society (almost always in celibacy and relative poverty) and following a rule that usually involves emulating or obeying a founder’.3 Within that essential familia, however, varying traditions could co-exist, or 2  This phrase, most appropriate to Ireland, is adopted from Steinunn Kristjánsdóttir’s study of Icelandic monasticism ‘Skriðuklaustur Monastery in Medi­eval Iceland’, p. 150. 3  This definition is from Johnston, ed., Encyclopedia of Monasticism, p. xi (introduction).

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indeed thoroughly diverge. There is no more obvious example than the medi­ eval Franciscan order which was riven by conflict in its attempts to translate the extreme lifestyle of poverty laid down by its founder, St Francis of Assisi into a pragmatic rule.4 This variation in monastic lifestyle influenced choices such as the location of foundations and even communication with the wider world. In Portugal, for example, as demonstrated by Catarina Almeida Marado in this volume, the first wave of Franciscans chose not to establish themselves in town centres but rather expressed the original eremitical spirit of their founder and his lifestyle of poverty by establishing themselves in existing churches within reach of royal towns. This was followed by a dramatic expansion into urban centres and small towns, where they usually constructed their friaries close to city gates. With the coming of the Observant movement, in their efforts to follow a life of greater poverty and zealous lifestyle, these more radical Franciscans returned to seeking out less populated, isolated locations. How an eremitical monastic community could survive without some dependence on another monastic community, royal or noble patrons, or indeed a population willing to support it, is a question as old as monasticism, and one recently tackled by Peter Brown in his consideration of early monasticism and labour.5 Tajana Pleše’s contribution to the volume on the Pauline order of medi­eval Slovenia suggests that interdependence was necessary. Created under royal patronage from the merger of local eremitical groups in the wake of the Mongol invasion of 1242, the order depended on endowments from royalty, nobles, and prominent clerics despite choosing to live in remote valleys and mountainous regions. As a result, these monasteries followed the way of many others in that they became wealthy and self-sufficient, and their benefactors sought to be buried in their precincts. This constant tension between the ideal of monasticism and living worldly reality, which is so often debated in relation to the desire of Cistercians to reside in remoteness,6 is wonderfully illustrated in Christoph Keller’s contribution on the archaeo­logy and history of Heisterbach Cistercian abbey in Germany. The location chosen by the Cistercians was well populated by villages and other church foundations, and even though it was mountainous, the region was not remote. When the Cistercians built their new monastery in the thirteenth century, however, they felt a need to create a sense of remoteness and seclusion by building an extensive perimeter wall to enclose the community. 4 

Nimmo, Reform and Division in the Medi­eval Franciscan Order; Agamben, The Highest Poverty. Brown, Treasure in Heaven. 6  Jamroziak, Cistercian Order in Medi­eval Europe. 5 

Introduction

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The wider familia monastica, which depended on the core community and its foundation, could extend from members of royal families to townspeople to labourers in the fields. This volume suggests that this dependency was a universal phenomenon and was expressed institutionally or legally. Guido Cariboni, for example, describes the familiares linked to thirteenth-century Italian Cistercian abbeys who were great benefactors, both lay and ecclesiastical. They were prayed for in life and commemorated after death, their names recorded as part of the Cistercian familia and read out at the general chapter. In return, they were active in a monastery’s life, not only providing large donations, but also their legal and economic expertise, as well as participating in the liturgy and charitable work. The twelfth-century Liber capituli of Lucedio preserves two hundred names of this extended monastic familia who were commemorated at specific banquets held during the year for the monastic community. Close association between particular professions or sections in society and monasteries was a common feature throughout medi­eval Europe: Franciscans with German merchants in thirteenth-century Prague, Dominicans with goldsmiths and shoemakers in medi­eval Scandinavia, Franciscans with fishermen on the island of Kökar in Finland, or female foundations with Bilbao merchants who had become wealthy from trade in the New World. The intervention and interest, or lack of it, of royal dynasties and episcopal households in monasteries was either a beneficial extension of the familia monastica, or at times a destructive factor. There are so many examples of the vital role of royal dynasties throughout medi­e val Europe in this volume that it is difficult to choose particular illustrations. There was the tense situation in which Matthew, abbot of Strata Marcella, had to navigate between the constitution of his order, the struggle between Anglo-Norman and Welsh factions related to the founding family, while at the same time continuing to pray for King Edward III and his family, even though the king was involved in shifting Strata Marcella’s mother house out of the hands of the Welsh abbot of Whitland to the English abbot of Buildwas. Janet Burton’s paper shows that the Cistercian order was able to assert its power and that the king had to work within their structures, even if he did not approve. More beneficial relationships with royal dynasties led to new foundations, increased endowments, and the erection of royal mausolea in monastic churches: the Franciscans in Prague housed the royal mausoleum of the Přemyslid dynasty, Basque noble families with professional connections to the Spanish royal courts displayed their own coats of arms and royal emblems prominently on the fabric of the nunneries they founded for the women of their own families. Monasteries such as Cambuskenneth in Scotland benefited hugely from royal privileges granted to them by Scottish kings which ena-

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bled them to control rich salmon fisheries, in the same way as royal privileges allowed the Benedictine abbey of Bizere in the medi­eval kingdom of Hungary to administer the salt trade on the River Mureş. Reformation and consequent dissolution, often as a result of royal conversion to Protestantism, not only led to the dispersal of the familia monastica, and broke the connection with its wider familiae, but changed the monastic landscape by re-using the materials of monasteries for new public and private buildings or transforming these often substantial buildings into prisons or military fortifications. Many left no trace at all or are scattered remnants in gardens and even hidden in the wilderness. In dealing with royal intervention and patronage, inevitably, and often as an aside, the role of women is alluded to in their capacity as founders or patrons.7 Among them were influential female characters such as Agnes, sister of King Wenceslas and cousin of Elizabeth of Turingia (1207–31), who founded two Franciscan institutions, a convent of the Poor Ladies and a hospital in Prague. Other noble women appear in the narrative in less favourable circumstances, as in the case of Hawise de la Pole, daughter of the Welsh lord Owain de la Pole whose marriage to the Anglo-Norman John de Charlton resulted in a struggle between her husband and her Welsh family for the lordship and control of Strata Marcella. This was a difficult situation for her, but a common predicament for many noble women of medi­eval Europe.8 What is missing from the volume’s studies, and indeed missing from studies of women in medi­e val monasticism in general, are those women who were not noble but who supported the familia monastica by their devotion or their toil in hospitals, in brewing beer, and in working on monastic lands. The participation of bishops in the familia monastica was vital for it to flourish and manifested itself in a variety of ways. Many bishops were members of orders themselves, as demonstrated by Visa Immonen in the case of thirteenth-century bishops in Finland who were Dominicans. Orders controlled cathedral schools and chapters, as Johnny Jakobsen points out, in Odense in Denmark where the Benedictines were in charge of the chapter, a particularly common situation in eleventh and twelfth-century England.9 Bishops could be munificent patrons, as Christoph Keller demonstrates in relation to Philipp of Heinsberg, archbishop of Co­logne, who in 1189 granted a site vacated by the 7 

The role of women in medi­eval religious life is an expanding subject of discussion. See, for example, Burton and Stöber, Women in the Medi­eval Monastic World. 8  Dunn and Carney, Royal Women and Dynastic Loyalty. 9  Barrow, The Clergy in the Medi­eval World, pp. 94–96.

Introduction

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Augustinians to the Cistercians who later built the Heisterbach abbey. Apart from spiritual reasons, the Cistercian presence was supported by the archbishop in the process of his own aggrandisement and as a means of marking his territory and keeping in check the counts of Sayn who were threatening the territories of the archbishopric of Co­logne. Relations between bishops and monastic communities were often competitive as they attempted to exert control over towns or lands or outdo one another in status. In a manner similar to relations with royal dynasties, this reflected the competing power structures of medi­eval society, and of the medi­eval church. Dany Sandron illustrates the physical impact of such power play and animosity on the scale of architecture in northern French cities such as St Remi, where the Benedictine church was originally grander than the cathedral, although the latter was subsequently enlarged. In some instances, animosities led to violence, such as during the Hundred Years’ War when the monks of St Martial supported the English king, while the bishop remained loyal to the French king. The ultimate participation of bishops in the familia monastica was burial, and, as noted by Sandron, many French abbeys from their original foundation were used as episcopal necropoli and were named after holy bishops whose relics they possessed and promoted. The spiritual or heavenly dimension of the familia monastica, apart from the rules, liturgy, and philosophical and theo­logical intellectual pursuits of the essential familia, rested on devotion to saints and commemoration of the dead, monastic and lay. In Ireland, the monastic familia (Irish muinter) consisted of the monasteries understood to have been founded by a prominent saint, as in the case of the Columban monasteries reputed to have been founded by St Columba,10 and while this concept was diluted with the arrival of the international orders from the eleventh century onwards, nevertheless dedications to native saints continued, especially among Augustinian foundations. The Benedictine abbey of St Bees in Cumbria, the subject of Richard Thomason’s contribution, founded by William Meschin, lord of Copeland between 1120 and 1135, was dedicated to the Virgin and to the local saint, St Bega. Indeed, William’s donation exalts the local saint and suggests that the dedication to her was as important as the international dedication to the Virgin to guarantee the local success of the monastery. The visible evidence of saints were their relics, and monks, perhaps more than their mendicant confrères, were active in promoting relics, and thus in creating a pilgrim community around them. The supreme example of this in medi­e val Europe is St James and Santiago de 10 

Herbert, Iona, Kells, and Derry.

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Compostela, and monasteries played a part in facilitating pilgrims to visit the great shrine.11 In her analytical detection of the archives of the Augustinian abbey of Santa Maria de Vilabertran in northern Catalonia, Karen Stöber has discovered that abbots acted as witnesses to wills and many testators donated to the abbey in light of their pilgrimages to Jerusalem, Rome, and Santiago, or their participation in the crusades. But these great centres, attractive as they might have been, were not the only places that attracted pilgrims and provided a living for a monastery. Europe was littered with such places from Late Antiquity onwards,12 and none so spectacular as the island site of Selja on the western Norwegian coast, the site of the cave of the martyred St Sunniva and the Seljumenn, whose origins were obscure, even fictitious. Alf Tore Hommedal discusses the interaction between the sanctuary of St Sunniva, the establishment of a diocese of western Norway, and the Benedictine monastery of St Alban, and how these three entities interacted in creating and continuing the identity of the place, and the identity and memory of the local saints. The Benedictines seem to have acted as promoters of the Selja cults and guardians of relics. The relic of Sunniva was transferred to Bergen in 1170, but the bones of Seljumenn and St Alban’s head relic, belonging to the monks, remained on the island, allowing for the continuity of the cult of holy relics. The dynamic of the familia monastica, a community of monks, friars, or nuns following a forma vitae, was such that their influence extended well outside their own communal space. They attracted people to them, not alone to worship in their churches, but to maintain them and to seek support from them. They often moved outside their communal space, and through their preaching and their worldly activities, influenced from the highest to the lowest in society, thus drawing large swathes of society into an extended familia monastica.

The Role of Monasticism in Developing Landscapes and Settlement Patterns A recurrent theme at the Ennis conference related to the spatial organization of religious foundations and the influence of the monastic lifestyle and liturgy on the layout and architecture of their buildings. Similarly, the association between their location in the landscape, rural and urban, and the ideals of an order’s rules was the topic of considerable discourse, be it about the assumption that the Cistercians were more inclined towards remote places or the appar11  12 

Costen, ‘The Pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela’. Brown, Cult of Saints; Howard-Johnston and Hayward, Cult of Saints.

Introduction

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ent preferred option of the mendicants for settling in urban spaces. Many of the papers in this volume elaborate on these debates and add to the evidence, which considering the geo­graphic coverage of the volume adds a unique and valuable perspective to the subject. Rather than attempt to summarize all aspects of the theme covered by the contributors, it seems more pertinent to point to evidence that conveys both regional diversity and at the other end of the spectrum, common — or even international — patterns. Topics of such interest include the concepts of enclosure and of the cloister, re-use of existing churches or foundations, the orders’ influence on urbanization, and especially the relationship between cathedrals and monastic houses. From the earliest period of monasticism retreat from the world and enclosure from the world, claustration, was a key element of the movement. This did not equate to a total retreat, although forms of extreme eremitical monasticism envisaged a literal departure into the desert, but most often it meant the drawing of a clear demarcation between the space of the core familia monastica and the rest of the world. How much the rest could intrude depended on the culture and function of a foundation or the rule and its application. The physical architecture of enclosure varied. Pre-Norman monasteries in Ireland were ‘enclosed’ by large-scale banks and ditches, the vallum monasteri, which might be triplicated to denote the sanctus, sanctior, sanctissimus (holy, holier, holiest) of a site, and in doing so, restrict access to the holiest parts of the foundation.13 Hence different levels of claustration may have existed concurrently, depending on the lifestyles or customs being followed in a monastery, from lay abbots to cloistered hermits. With the coming of the international orders to Ireland, this form of enclosure was abandoned, and whether deliberately or not new foundations were located on the line of earlier enclosures. The reverse also happened, as on the spectacular island of Inchcleraun, County Longford, possibly an Augustinian canons’ foundation, where the medi­e val stone churches fully respect the earthen enclosure. Physical, as well as ethereal enclosures could be determined by intellectual religious movements, especially during reforms. In the Basque country, as illustrated by Nere Jone Intxaustegi Jauregi, medi­e val communities of women in convents and semi-religious groups known as beaterios declined in the wake of the post-Tridentine drive towards stricter claustration for women. Inside the monastic foundation, variations can be detected in the layout and architecture of cloisters. Some architectural variations were 13 

Doherty, ‘The Monastic Town’, pp. 54–58; Ó Carragáin, Churches in Early Medi­eval Ireland, pp. 57–60.

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determined by actual physical conditions, as in the Dominican convent in Turku in Finland where the cloister walk was enclosed, possibly due to the cold climate. Tracy Collins argues that the majority of female foundations in Ireland seem not to have contained cloisters, an interesting characteristic as it raises questions about the use of space for personal devotion and liturgy. And yet, as demonstrated by Finola O’Carroll, the wealthy Dominican house in Trim, County Meath may have contained two cloisters, an uncommon feature in Ireland, but found in England. The typical view of a cloister as a haven of peace and prayer does not necessarily reflect the reality of a medi­eval cloister. Elizabeth Valdez del Álamo’s depiction of the cloister as a spiritual and practical centre of monastic activities conjures up a noisy and vibrant space, ranging in activities from communal processions to individual reflection, a place of silence but also of noise (from talk of children, to vocalized reading and chanting), a place of withdrawal and of social interaction, where clothes were washed and dried. Her paper also calls into question the spatial meaning of claustrum and for how long this term signified the entire grounds of the monastery as well as an enclosed garden within a monastery, with the latter meaning dominating from the twelfth century. Re-use of earlier or existing ecclesiastical sites occurs occasionally. This could be for practical reasons. A vacant site was available for re-use when the Cistercians of Heisterbach moved into their original location, a vacant church on Petersberg Mountain previously used by Augustinian canons. The first Dominicans to arrive in Prague were granted an existing church, close to the city’s German-speaking area and in line with their own cultural affinities. As previously noted, the first Franciscans in Portugal while ministering in towns settled in temporary buildings, in existing churches outside the towns in an attempt to express their adherence to poverty and not having any possessions, including buildings or land. Female houses founded in twelfth-century Ireland were often sites in the vicinity of existing — normally male — foundations. For example, Derbforgaill, wife of Tigernán Ua Ruairc, king of Bréifne, endowed the Nuns’ Church at Clonmacnoise in the 1160s. No more than maintaining the dedication of a local saint, this choice of location, while influenced by patterns of patronage and also by the prestige of endowing a church or nunnery in an existing important foundation, also evoked a commemorative link with the past. This is further suggestive of the power of memory so prevalent in the monastic ethos, be it in their necro­logies, commemorative Masses, the visibility of their founders’ and patrons’ tombs, or their various dedications. The role of monastic, and especially mendicant, orders in the urbanization of Europe is a recurring theme throughout this volume. Frederik Felskau’s

Introduction

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detailed study of the importance of orders — monastic, mendicant, military, male and female — in the development of Prague, mainly during the thirteenth century, teases out the complexity of relationships between orders, orders and royal and civic authorities, orders and bishops, and orders and parish churches. The location of Prague’s religious houses was the result of complex spatial and spiritual considerations, as religious institutions were placed at strategic urban locations which conferred various civic duties on them: defending the city gates (Teutonic Knights), keeping night watch (Dominicans), control of a gate (Franciscans) or a bridge (the Order of the Red Star). These reflect similar patterns in other European cities. One spatial relationship that is often overlooked is that between the monastery and the cathedral or seat of a bishop, which in the early phases of diocesan development did not always amount to a cathedral building. The island of Selja, for example, acted as the primary seat of the bishop in western Norway, before the see was moved to Bergen in the 1090s, and the original monastic church on the island was probably planned as the bishop’s cathedral. This meant that the Benedictines, probably of English origin, lost out and had to redirect their energy towards promoting the island’s cult and guarding the relics of its saints. Johnny Jakobsen makes a very pertinent observation in describing the spatial organization of Scandinavian towns, that the presumed peripheral location of mendicant foundations needs to be viewed in the context of the size of medi­e val Scandinavian cities, where the centre and periphery are in fact not very distant. The proximity of mendicants to cathedrals in Dacia was related to the support of local bishops who possibly wished to involve friars in clerical education at the cathedral schools, but in cases where Benedictines formed the cathedral chapter, as in Odense, they were less welcome. Yet, proximity to cathedrals does not occur in Sweden, even though Dominican houses were established in most diocesan centres. This suggests less support for Dominicans from Swedish bishops and cathedral chapters than happened in Denmark or Norway. And finally, but most dramatically, proximity could foster rivalry and jealousy, even in the architecture of a town, as in Rouen, where the Benedictine abbey’s crossing tower acted as a model for the cathedral’s tower, or in Noyon where the cathedral and abbey both claimed possession of the relics of St Eloi, and the monks were cunning enough to draw their architectural inspiration from Notre Dame in Paris in an effort to outshine the cathedral. The less crowded rural landscape, variously populated by nucleated or dispersed settlements, also attracted monastic foundations. Even in remote regions, these settlements were substantial and often wealthy. This phenomenon has been described by Tajana Pleše in relation to the monasteries of the

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eremitical Pauline order located in mountainous regions and river valleys in medi­eval Slavonia. These monasteries were largely self-sufficient and wealthy, owning arable land, vineyards, fishponds, forests, meadows, and mills, and at times even a town house or a village property. Monastic estates had a variety of uses which deviate from the standard activities normally linked to monastic agricultural practices. The Cistercians of Coupar Angus in Scotland held large estates in Glenisla, and Victoria Hodgson has shown that the abbey’s access to forests provided them with access to wood, especially important during the times of wood shortage across Europe in the fifteenth century. Glenisla was utilized by the monks for hunting, horse breeding, and smithing. Hunting in forests was necessary to control the wolf and fox populations, but it provided entertainment and hospitality organized by the monks for rich guests in the hope of obtaining favours for the abbey. This volume reinforces the existing understanding that monastic and mendicant communities formed a vital role in development of landscapes, both rural and urban. Most obvious to us today are their surviving churches, often large buildings in towns and cities or if destroyed, as shown by Kimm Curran, still leaving an imprint on streetscapes. They appear on a rural horizon, their bell towers guiding one to a medi­eval settlement or an important roadway or crossing point over a river. These are but shadows that remind us of the significance of monks and friars in the development of the medi­eval European landscape.

Monastic Environments and Economies The mention of hunting and horse breeding in Glenisla naturally leads to a further prevalent theme in this volume, that of the environmental and economic history of medi­eval European monasticism. This topic deserves a volume in its own right and the contributions here incorporate important pointers towards further research. While a monastic foundation could accrue a sufficient income from the benefactions of wealthy donors and the lesser donations of the wider populace, they were not always solely dependent on this staple income. A standard location of mendicant houses was at or near city gates or on main routes to a town or city, which has long been understood as providing a source of alms from those entering the urban space. Examples of this phenomenon are quoted in relation to the Dominicans and Franciscans of Vyborg in Finland and the Dominicans of Trim in Ireland. During their mid- to late thirteenth-century expansion into cities and smaller towns in Portugal, the Franciscans became part of the typical medi­eval Portuguese urban spatial layout with a Franciscan friary sited close to the city gates. At various times during the development of

Introduction

13

Prague, different orders orientated themselves toward the strategic bridge over the River Moldave. The house of the Military Order of the Crusaders of the Red Star was located close to the bridge and was granted a privilege of bridge tax from the boats for the upkeep of their house and the upkeep of the bridge. Although not easy to categorize, the environmental surroundings of monastic houses often determined their economic activities. Thus, riverine and coastal environs involved the harnessing of fisheries or controlling particular commodities such as wool or salt, while various forms of agriculture were undertaken depending on the soil, climate, and altitude of monastic estates. The control of fisheries comes to the fore in a number of contributions to the volume, none more so than that of Richard C. Hoffman and the late Alasdair Ross in relation to the Scottish Augustinian abbey of Cambuskenneth, endowed in 1147 by King David and the royal burgh of Stirling. The relationship between the abbey and Stirling turned sour following a violent incident that occurred in 1365 when over thirty burgesses destroyed the abbey’s fishing facilities during a Marian feast day. The disputes between the burgh and abbey over salmon fishing rights lasted throughout the Middle Ages and were related to a number of factors: the location of the abbey, the abbey’s extended fishing rights, the value of salmon in medi­eval Europe, and the management of the river and fishing resources. As a valuable commodity and an extensive and lucrative industry, salmon could delight kings and nobles being fed at a monastic table, but equally could cause conflict. Dissension intensified in the thirteenth century when salmon stocks depleted, leading to increased pressure for the provision of the fish. Scottish salmon was sold in barrels to the Low Countries, England, and France which contributed to the increased demand for salmon internationally as well as locally. The price for salmon typically increased in Lent due to increased fish consumption, and in winter and early spring, when fewer fish were available. This demand must have had implications for salmon stocks in Scotland but the environmental impact of such economic demands is difficult to assess due to the paucity of sources. Visa Immonen notes that the Franciscans on Kökar Island in Finland served its fishing community, with traces of the Franciscan presence predating the establishment of the actual friary, founded c. 1450–60. This points to a pastoral presence there decades earlier and bone rosary beads, fishing hooks, and needles for mending nets show how the friars adapted to a northern marine environment. Harsh and seemingly isolated regions, such as the Norwegian island of Selja, site of a holy cult fostered by Benedictines, were actually not so cut off, as the island was situated on a fishing route that brought passing ships and a natural pilgrim route to it. This phenomenon offers an explanation for the significance of other western and northern

Edel Bhreathnach

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Atlantic island monasteries, none more so than Iona where the sea influenced monastic life to a considerable degree. The impact of a riverine environment on a monastery’s development and even its techno­logical prowess is spectacularly demonstrated by the case study of the Benedictine monastery at Bizere in the medi­eval kingdom of Hungary (presentday Romania). Oana Toda’s study illustrates how an abbey utilized its location on the River Mureş both to express its spiritual isolation but also to benefit economically from water transport and salt extraction. Using evidence from archaeo­ logy, charters, carto­graphy, and even icono­graphy, the paper looks at monastic houses as part of the regional economy, with monasteries being charged with salt transportation and obtaining salt revenues as a result of royal privileges, especially during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The activity was part of a royal strategy of involving the Church in administering the salt trade. Storage points, landing points, river toll-collection points were located close to monasteries, and religious houses were charged with delivering salt to these storage points. The long-standing view that regarded the Cistercians as ‘God’s frontiersmen’ and their land-holding system as predominantly based on granges with lay brothers, has for some time been challenged by scholars.14 Victoria Hodgson presents a complex image of the Cistercian economy at Coupar Angus in Scotland that questions the idea of the distinctively Cistercian model of landholding and management as well as the special character of granges, often defined as being independent of the medi­eval manorial system. Glenisla was not a grange. The land was worked by peasants with lay brothers or conversi acting as supervisors. Many peasants were inhabitants of lands obtained by the abbey, an indication that the Cistercians took over the lands already occupied and exploited by agriculture. Granges were not necessarily granaries: they could have covered functions such as horse breeding, wool production, and wine or salt production, or industrial tanning. Coupar itself was heavily involved in wool production and trade and used its own fulling mill for surplus wool to be sold locally. The environment of a foundation determined its economy. This could be a straightforward location at city gates that facilitated the collecting of alms or tolls or surviving in harsh environs that led to a dependence on a particular trade or patronage. Location on an important communications artery and in an area rich in an economic resource, such as fish or salt, not only increased a foundation’s wealth considerably but made it a focal point in a given landscape, and often a source of conflict as well as patronage. 14 

Burton and Kerr, Cistercians in the Middle Ages, pp. 21–81.

Introduction

15

Conclusion Monasticism, as with Christianity in general and indeed other religions, has always involved a traffic of ideas, and to borrow from the language of socio­logy and literary criticism, these are movements ‘that have historically organized processes of intersocietal change’.15 As such, the transcendent aspect of monasticism is manifested in its spiritual and pastoral ideo­logy, the cura animarum (care of souls) that ultimately aims to lead the human race to salvation and resurrection in Christ. This message surpasses cultural and regional differences, scales of economic and political power, cores and peripheries. The transnational character of medi­e val monastic culture and ideo­logy enabled intellectual ideas, monastic rules and their interpretation, and modes of pastoral care to cross the many boundaries and borders of medi­e val Europe. The tangible expression of this mobility is expressed, for example, in the architectural tradition which despite regional variations and also variations deriving from different monastic or mendicant rules, all adhere to a basic spatial layout around a church, and in most cases some form of claustration — even if only symbolic. In many instances, the main difference is that of scale, often a result of economic or political capabilities: hence the magnitude of the Benedictine abbeys of northern France as opposed to the Benedictine abbey of Selja in Norway. Despite the difference in scale and priorities, they both had as the basis of their lifestyle the same monastic rule. For those outside the essential familia monastica grand cathedrals and the island of Selja alike were stopping points where travellers encountered monasteries and the relics of their saints. They may not have been the same saints and the northern French monastic reliquaries were more splendid that those of Selja, but the concept was the same, that of commemoration and intercession. Monasticism in medi­e val Europe is often subjected to modern historio­ graphical termino­logy and concepts such as the ideas of there being a ‘core’ of European monasticism, predominantly the regions from which the major rules emanated or were codified. In modern nation state definitions, these include Italy, France, England, Germany, the Low Countries, and Spain. Other regions are regarded as ‘peripheral’ and they received the rules from the ‘core’ regions.16 And these ‘peripheral’ regions are often perceived to be ‘frontiers’ or ‘borders’, 15 

Klobucka, ‘Theorizing the European Periphery’, p. 123. For a recent consideration about the cultural complexity of regions even regarded as being ‘core’, see Vanderputten, Snijders, and Diehl, eds, Medi­eval Liège at the Crossroads of Europe. 16 

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unsettled and isolated places subject to endemic violence and the confrontation of cultures.17 This volume with its extensive geo­graphic coverage demonstrates that monasticism in medi­eval Europe was at the same time international and diverse. There were multiple layers of central nodes and margins, dependence and interdependence, and local, regional, and interregional relationships in operation.18 The first waves of fervent Franciscans to spread across Europe in the thirteenth century were successful because they moved from one central node to the next, using existing routes on land and sea at an impressively rapid pace. They settled in urban communities, in vacated churches, or in fishing communities with the aim of preaching the radical message of Francis and of caring for both the spiritual and material needs of diverse communities. But, as they established themselves in all these regions, they had to face the challenges of compromising their radical message by accepting the benefactions of powerful donors, building impressive churches and friaries, and holding possessions. These impressive friaries sprung up all over Europe, some of the most striking in seemingly isolated places in Ireland, and this compromise caused the strife that disrupted the order throughout the late medi­eval period. And despite this dissension, the likelihood was that if one needed to encounter a Franciscan friar in any corner of Europe, they were to be found at city gates, in town squares, at fairs and markets, and if they were Observants, in more isolated landscapes. Communities that in distance were far apart were interdependent, a phenomenon expressed by the American socio­logist Christopher Chase-Dunn in his conceptualization of ‘relationships between different kinds of networks of interconnectedness’.19 And so the tables of the rich in England and on the Continent benefited during the fourteenth century from the salmon fisheries of the Augustinians of Cambuskenneth near Stirling, who in their local relationships were in dispute over this valuable commodity with the good burgesses of the town. Equally, the apparently isolated Benedictine monastery of Bizere in medi­e val Hungary was connected to regions elsewhere in Central Europe through its riverine trade of salt and its capacity to progress shipping techno­logy. 17 

For a treatment of this subject see Bartlett and Mackay, Medi­eval Frontier Societies. In relation to monasticism and frontiers see Jamroziak and Stöber, Monasteries on the Borders. 18  For an economic history perspective that could inform this ‘historical’ debate see Van der Wee, ‘Globalization, Core, and Periphery’. 19  Chase-Dunn, ‘Comparing World-Systems’, p. 30 quoted in Klobucka, ‘Theorizing the European Periphery’, p. 123.

Introduction

17

The networks of medi­e val European religious communities were in parts uniform but often culturally diverse. They were not static as they reacted to events and changes around them, and yet they were bound by a movement that had at its heart, even if not always fully pursued, the salvation of souls well beyond their own enclosures. Edel Bhreathnach as guest of Glenstal Abbey, 19 February 2018

Works Cited Primary Source Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, trans. by Regis J. Armstrong, J. A. Wayne Hellmann, and William J. Short, 3 vols (New York: New City Press, 1999–2001)

Secondary Works Agamben, Giorgio, The Highest Poverty: Monastic Rules and Form-of-Life, trans. by Adam Kotsko (Stanford: Stanford Uni­ver­sity Press, 2013) Barrow, Julia, The Clergy in the Medi­eval World: Secular Clerics, their Families and Careers in North-Western Europe, c. 800 – c. 1200 (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 2015) Bartlett, Robert, and Angus Mackay, eds, Medi­eval Frontier Societies (Oxford: Clarendon, 1989) Brown, Peter, The Cult of Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (Chicago: Uni­ver­sity of Chicago Press, 1981) —— , Treasure in Heaven: The Holy Poor in Early Christianity (Charlottesville: The Uni­ ver­sity of Virginia Press, 2016) Burton, Janet, and Julie Kerr, eds, The Cistercians in the Middle Ages (Woodbridge: Boy­ dell, 2011) Burton, Janet, and Karen Stöber, eds, Monastic Wales: New Approaches (Cardiff: Uni­ver­ sity of Wales Press, 2013) —— , eds, Women in the Medi­eval Monastic World (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015) Chase-Dunn, Christopher, ‘Comparing World-Systems: Toward a Theory of Semi­peri­ pheral Development’, The Comparative Civilizations Review, 19 (1988), 29–66 Costen, Michael, ‘The Pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in Medi­eval Europe’, in Pil­ grimage in Popular Culture, ed.  by Ian Reader and Tony Walter (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1993), pp. 137–54 Doherty, Charles, ‘The Monastic Town in Early Medi­eval Ireland’, in The Comparative History of Urban Origins in non-Roman Europe, ed. by Howard B. Clarke and Anngret

18

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Simms, British Archaeo­logical Reports: International Series, 255 (Oxford: British Archaeo­logical Reports, 1985), pp. 45–75 Dunn, Caroline, and Elizabeth Carney, eds, Royal Women and Dynastic Loyalty, Queen­ ship and Power Series (Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018) Herbert, Máire, Iona, Kells, and Derry: The History and Hagio­graphy of the Monastic ‘familia’ of Columba (Oxford: Clarendon, 1988; repr. Dublin: Four Courts, 1996) Howard-Johnston, James, and Paul Anthony Hayward, eds, The Cult of Saints in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages: Essays on the Contribution of Peter Brown (Ox­ ford: Oxford Uni­ver­sity Press, 1999) Jamroziak, Emilia, The Cistercian Order in Medi­eval Europe, 1090–1500 (Abingdon: Routledge, 2013) Jamroziak, Emilia, and Karen Stöber, eds, Monasteries on the Borders of Medi­eval Europe: Conflict and Cultural Interaction (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013) Johnston, William M., ed., Encyclopedia of Monasticism (Chicago: Fitzroy Dearborn, 2000) Klobucka, Anna, ‘Theorizing the European Periphery’, Symplokē, 5 (1997), 119–35 Lafaye, Annejulie, ‘The Dominicans in Ireland: A Comparative Study of the East Munster and Leinster Settlements’, Journal of Medi­eval Monastic Studies, 4 (2015), 77–106 —— , ‘Les franciscains en Irlande’, Études franciscaines, 9 (2016), 103–46 Nimmo, Duncan, Reform and Division in the Medi­eval Franciscan Order: From Saint Francis to the Foundation of the Capuchins (Rome: Capuchin Historical Institute, 1995) Ó Carragáin, Tomás, Churches in Early Medi­eval Ireland: Architecture, Ritual and Memory (New Haven: Yale Uni­ver­sity Press, 2010) Steinunn Kristjánsdóttir, ‘Skriðuklaustur Monastery in Medi­eval Iceland: A Colony of Reli­gi­osity and Culture’, in Monasteries on the Borders of Medi­eval Europe: Conflict and Cultural Interaction, ed.  by Emilia Jamroziak and Karen Stöber (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013), pp. 149–72 Vanderputten, Steven, Tjamke Snijders, and Jay Diehl, eds, Medi­eval Liège at the Crossroads of Europe: Monastic Society and Culture, 1000–1300 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017) Van der Wee, Herman, ‘Globalization, Core, and Periphery in the World Economy of the Late Middle Ages and Early Modern Times’, in Cores, Peripheries, and Globalization: Essays in Honor of Ivan  T. Berend, ed.  by Peter Hanns Reill and Balázs  A. Szeléyni (Budapest: Central European Uni­ver­sity Press), pp. 185–202

Identifying the familia monastica in Medieval Europe

The Nature of Pre-‘Reform’ Irish Monasticism Edel Bhreathnach

T

his paper reflects the first thoughts on an extensive study being undertaken as part of the Irish Research Council funded Monastic Ireland Project. It attempts to define monasticism in Ireland before the arrival of the international orders from the late eleventh century onwards and as the opening paper of the volume it sets the scene for the exploration of key themes of the volume, including the monastic lifestyle, the monastic community (the familia monastica), and hybrid monasticism, as well as the physical landscape of early monastic communities. More importantly, the paper addresses the question of sources available for the study of early Irish monasticism and its transformation during the twelfth century, which locate Irish monastic practices in comparison to rather than in contrast with the Continental practices. This reflection raises certain fundamental questions: If there was a transformation of Irish monasticism during this period, what transformed? Which of the many ecclesiastical settlements in Ireland prior to the appearance of the ‘reformed’ orders were monasteries? What was so different in eleventh-century Irish monasteries from English, Scottish, and Welsh, and even the Continental monasteries, that they should be treated separately in scholarly discourses? Is the influence of medi­eval commentators such as Bernard of Clairvaux or Giraldus Cambrensis so great that we can only view Irish monasteries of the period through their particular perspectives? And finally, does contemporary Irish literature, much of it in the vernacular — although a sizeable body of Latin texts exist as well — influence our impression of pre-‘reformed’ Irish monasticism to such an extent that we have been unable to characterize it as in any way similar to monasticism elsewhere? Edel Bhreathnach ([email protected]) is former Director of the Discovery Programme: Centre for Archaeo­logy and Innovation Ireland. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 21–43 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117257

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Making a Monastic Community and Landscape The impression of the existence of a unique medi­e val Irish monastic culture derives to a certain extent from the misinterpretation of native sources and over-reliance on particular external sources. It also reflects the inclination of scholars to interpret the Irish material independently from the greater narrative of monasticism. Yet how closely do James Clark’s observations on early Benedictine monasteries relate to their contemporary Irish equivalents? the Benedictines left their imprint on the world beyond their walls. In many regions of Europe it was the early monasteries that shaped the very patterns of settlements, land use and trade which determined the distribution of cities and towns, markets and places of worship. The populace of these places surrendered labour and livelihood to their monastery, and in the boroughs of the later Middle Ages, also their hope of economic and political independence, but they also looked to it for material succour, and for spiritual and perhaps cultural inspiration.1

Clark’s overview of the Benedictines in the early Middle Ages compares in many respects to the image gained from archaeo­logical and documentary evidence of pre-‘reform’ Irish ecclesiastical settlements, large and small. Like their counterparts in Britain and on the Continent these foundations shared seigniorial authority with a lay elite and the larger ones were wealthy economic entities that exerted significant territorial influence.2 As institutions integral to the secular world this status often imposed serious administrative responsibilities on their rulers and in many instances it is unlikely that these people followed an horarium (monastic timetable) and were far removed from any form of observant life. Their power invested them with fiscal, judicial, and social rights that elevated certain ecclesiastics to social positions that in reality, and legally, were equivalent to kings.3 The abbot of Armagh, the primatial church in Ireland, was often more powerful than any provincial king, or even aspirant king of Ireland. Such was their eminence that they constantly brokered peace between warring kings and remonstrated with or supported kings, thus ensuring the latters’ rise or fall from grace.4 Clark’s comments regarding the effect of Benedictine monasteries on the development of the landscape could also usefully be applied to Irish foundations. This calls to mind the long-running debate about the exist1 

Clark, The Benedictines in the Middle Ages, p. 131. Herbert, Iona, Kells, and Derry. 3  Etchingham, Church Organisation in Ireland. 4  Charles-Edwards, The Early Mediaeval Gaelic Lawyer. 2 

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ence of ‘monastic towns’ in Ireland prior to and contemporary with the Norse coastal towns.5 Perhaps the precincts of some ecclesiastical settlements were marketplaces and distribution centres — that indeed became the core of many later Irish towns. But what of any form of monastic observance? Although an early medi­e val monastery constituted under the Regula Benedicti was the focus of considerable activity and interaction with the world outside, there existed at its heart a community that was defined by a particular way of life. What makes a monastic community? What sets a group of people apart from the rest of society and how did that society determine that such a community lived a distinct lifestyle and interacted differently with the world around it? There are many universal distinguishing features associated with such communities (and these are not confined to Christian monastic communities) — a regulated life of prayer, contemplation, liturgy, scholarly exegesis, and manual labour, following a rule within an institutional structure. In Christianity there is the concept of imitatio Christi (imitation of Christ), and a particular attitude towards possessions, social responsibility, and sexual activity.6 This type of distinct lifestyle is expressed most fervently in the medi­e val period by Francis of Assisi in the rule of the Franciscan order (1223): VI. Let the Brothers Not Make Anything Their Own; Begging Alms, the Sick Brothers Let the brothers not make anything their own, neither house, nor place, nor anything at all. As pilgrims and strangers in this world, serving the Lord in poverty and humility, let them go seeking alms with confidence, and they should not be ashamed because, for our sakes, our Lord made Himself poor in this world. This is that sublime height of most exalted poverty which has made you, my most beloved brothers, heirs and kings of the Kingdom of Heaven, poor in temporal things but exalted in virtue. Let this be your portion which leads into the land of the living. Giving yourselves totally to this, beloved brothers, never seek anything else under heaven for the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Wherever the brothers may be and meet one another, let them show that they are members of the same family. Let each one confidently make known his need

5 

Doherty, ‘The Monastic Town in Early Medi­eval Ireland’; Valente, ‘Reassessing the Irish “Monastic Town”’; Etchingham, ‘The Organization of an Early Irish Church Settlement’; Picard, ‘Space Organization in Early Irish Monasteries’. 6  Constable, Renaissance and Renewal in the Twelfth Century; Brown, The Body and Society; Dunn, The Emergence of Monasticism; Dey and Fentress, Western Monasticism ante litteram. An extensive literature exists in relation to the world of monasticism. This is but a representative selection. See [accessed 1 February 2019].

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to the other, for if a mother loves and cares for her son according to the flesh, how much more diligently must someone love and care for his brother according to the Spirit! When any brother falls sick, the other brothers must serve him as they would wish to be served themselves.7

Francis of Assisi and the Friars Minor envisaged a life of service in the world, cloistered at certain times so as to concentrate on prayer and devotion to the Eucharist. The brothers were to ‘ostendant se domesticos invicem interesse’ (act like members of a common family). And while ‘community’ is at the heart of many monastic rules, a fundamental conflict exists between the need to share a distinct lifestyle with like-minded people and the attraction of the solitary life in which the dangers of the world are less attractive and one can dedicate one’s life wholly to God. The very word ‘monastery’ — which we normally equate with communal living — reveals this dual aspect of monasticism as it originates from Greek monasterion (a hermit’s cell) with connotations of ‘being alone’. The other terms used to describe a monastery and monastic life, coenobium and coenobitic incorporate a primary meaning of ‘living in a community’. How is this relevant to monasticism in medi­e val Ireland? To begin with termino­ logy, as the late Aidan MacDonald noted in his article on termino­logy used in the Annals of Ulster (a chronicle compiled in Iona and Armagh probably from the sixth century onwards),8 the Irish borrowing from monasterium — mainistir — is rarely used and this is reflected in place names: with the exception of Monasterboice (Mainistir Buíthe), Co. Louth, other place names containing the element mainistir are the foundations of medi­eval orders, the most prominent being the Cistercian foundation of Mellifont, known in Irish as ‘Mainistir Mór’ (the Great Monastery). The common use of the term muintir or its Latin equivalent familia (the community, people of ) in Irish sources to describe an ecclesiastical community, while at times referring to a monastic community, could extend to the greater family (ecclesiastical and dependents) of a church or of a particular saint. We find constant references, for example, to the muintir or familia of Armagh or of Patrick, and similarly of Columba. But these communities were very diverse and consisted of a wide range of institutions. These 7 

Francis of Assisi, trans. by Armstrong, Hellmann, and Short, i, 103. For the Latin text see ; [both accessed 24 April 2018]. 8  MacDonald, ‘Aspects of the Monastery and Monastic Life’.

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could include powerful lay administrators, bishops, learned men, manaig (lay tenants) who toiled on church lands and were part of a muintir or familia. But were there communities that consisted of men and women — monks and nuns — who would have related somehow to Anselm’s view of the monk in which every monk had a spiritual life informed by a theory and a theo­logy? This could involve discussion of the blessed life, prayer, reading and thinking, sharing in the refectory, a particular formation as novices, the unity of a community under an abbot, friendship, and detached intimacy.9 It is virtually impossible to generalize about the life of a community or a monk or nun as the history of monasticism demonstrates the great diversity of the movement. The shape of monasticism often depended on regional or cultural differences, a given chrono­logical period, and even on the influence of particular abbots or kings.10 Nevertheless, at the heart of monasticism was a community, a monk living in that community or sometimes alone, and a rule. Whether a monastic community dealing directly with those around them or ascetic monks living apart from the world, they also created a monastic landscape that could be distinguished from the settlements of other religious and the laity, noble or otherwise. Can monastic communities be recognized in mid-eleventh-century Ireland, for example, and if so what were their characteristics and lifestyle?

English and Continental Influences Any study of pre-‘reform’ Irish monasticism needs to move away from the traditional reliance on the reformers of monasticism in the twelfth century. Hence this essay will not focus much on Bernard of Clairvaux, Anselm of Bec and Canterbury, or Norbert of Prémontré — to name but three formidable twelfth-century clerics. It will take heed, however, of the ever-evolving rules of Augustine and Benedict, and the emergence of the Benedictines as a coherent corporate body, an ordo religionis in England and on the Continent from the tenth century onwards.11 Is there evidence of any English or Continental monastic influence in Ireland by the mid-eleventh century that would make us think that perhaps Irish monasticism was not a totally insular phenomenon? Of course there was, and while earlier scholars of Irish monasticism such as Aubrey Gwynn acknowledged an increasing external influence throughout the 9 

As summarized in Evans, ‘The Meaning of Monastic Culture’, p. 76. See for example Nyberg, Monasticism in North-Western Europe. 11  Clarke, The Benedictines in the Middle Ages. 10 

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eleventh century, the narrative was usually framed in the terms articulated by Bernard, informed by Malachy of Armagh, of an institution requiring reform and out of step with monastic institutions elsewhere.12 Recent scholarship suggests that this was not the case. In a study of the Stowe Missal (RIA MS D ii 3), Brendan Coffey comments on the revision made to parts of the missal by a certain Móel Caích, possibly a member of the communities of Lorrha, Co. Tipperary or Tallaght, Co. Dublin in the early ninth century: Móel Caích brought Roman practice into the Stowe Missal. It is likely that he saw himself as someone at the cutting edge of liturgical reform in the ninth century. We can, in fact, imagine him sitting at his desk in the scriptorium of his monastery at much the same time that Benedict of Aniane was sitting at his desk compiling his supplement to the Sacramentarium Gregorianum Hadrianum for his master Charlemagne, between 810 and 815. Both monks were engaged in a Romanizing process; not a process of uniformizing, but one of adhering to Roman customs.13

A key deduction from Coffey’s comments on the revision of the Stowe Missal is not that Móel Caích was in direct contact with Benedict of Aniane but that he was a participant in a movement that was happening throughout western Christendom in various guises, and that for Móel Caích to be involved he must have had some engagement with the world beyond his own monastery. Of course, Móel Caích was not operating at the same political and intellectual level as Benedict of Aniane who was to the fore in attempting to codify and regularize the Benedictine rule and structure by compiling the Concordia regularum as part of the Aachen synods of 816 and 817.14 If the link between Benedict of Aniane and Móel Caích of Tallaght or Lorrha is fleeting, this cannot be said of the connections between Ireland, Lotharingia, the Ottonian Empire, and Rome in the tenth and eleventh centuries. The annals record that Irish nobles and senior ecclesiastics travelled through Britain to Rome, and also acknowledge the existence of Irish foundations in Co­logne and Rome.15 In a paper written two decades ago, Michael Richter characterized this period as one which presaged the coming of the Anglo-Normans to Ireland insofar as Irish churchmen and aristocrats were increasingly drawn into 12 

Gwynn, The Irish Church in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries. Coffey, ‘The Stowe Enigma’, p. 90. 14  Lawrence, Medi­eval Monasticism, pp. 73–78. 15  Annals of Ulster, ed. and trans. by Mac Airt and Mac Niocaill, 1027, 1042, 1052 (Co­l­ ogne); 929, 1028, 1030–31, 1051, 1064, 1175 (Rome). 13 

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international networks.16 It is valuable to consider some references to Irish notables travelling abroad to detect how Irish monasticism might have been influenced by external reforms and institutions. In 929, for example, Céile, successor (comarba) of Comgall (Bangor, Co. Down) died in Rome while on a pilgrimage that had started in the previous year. Céile is described unusually as ‘apostolicus doctor totius Hiberniae’ (apostolic doctor of all Ireland) and on his death ‘bishop, scribe, preacher and learned doctor’ and anmchara (confessor) of Niall Glúndub, king of Tara (d. 919).17 Apart from the obvious aspect of pilgrimage, what was Céile, an abbot and clearly a learned ecclesiastic, seeking in Rome? Was he leaving a religious community that did not live up to his monastic expectations or was it the opposite: his monastic ideals were driving him to Rome, much as it did his predecessor Columbanus many centuries earlier? There were many Irish active on the Continent at the time and he may well have sought them out. While Rome at the time was ruled by Marozia Crescentii, mistress of Pope Sergius III and mother of Pope John XI — a city of corruption in its highest echelons — it was also a place where there was a surge in the foundation or renewal of monasticism that increased through the tenth century.18 Perhaps Céile encountered this new energy and he may even have attended the translation of Columbanus’s relics from Bobbio to Pavia in July 929 at the time of the great abbey’s conflict with the local aristocracy who were encroaching on its lands.19 In his study of the accretions made to the ninth-century martyro­logy of Bishop Ado of Vienna that arrived in Ireland — and specifically to Christ Church in Dublin — in the eleventh century, Pádraig Ó Riain has shown that the text travelled through Metz and Co­logne, and in that transmission went through an Irish and a Benedictine milieu.20 David Dumville has suggested that the tenth-century hagio­graphy of pilgrims from Scottia, which may refer to Ireland or Scotland, and especially the life of Cathróe of Metz (d. 971/76), were open to the Benedictine reform emanating from the Lotharingian monastery of Gorze. He argues that the reform message was very clear. ‘However holy (or apparently monastic) may be a group of Scotti turning up in Lotharingia — and pilgrim Scotti had a long-established reputation for holiness —, no 16 

Richter, ‘The European Dimension of Irish History’. Recorded in the Annala Rioghachta Eireann, ed. and trans. by O’Donovan, sub anno. 18  Valenzani, ‘Aristocratic Euergetism and Urban Monasteries in Tenth-Century Rome’. 19  O’Hara and Taylor, ‘Aristocratic and Monastic Conflict’. 20  Ó Riain, ‘Dublin’s Oldest Book?’; A Martyro­logy of Four Cities, ed. by Ó Riain.

17 

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one would be accepted in reforming circles as having monastic status without being professed in a Benedictine monastery’.21 One might ask if there are further deductions from this hagio­g raphical cycle — were the reformers of Gorze giving a message to those Scotti landing among them that their form of monasticism was not proper monasticae religioni and that they needed to institute proper monastic structures? That clashes relating to monastic regimes occurred is understood from an entry in Marianus Scottus’s chronicle at 1036 in which he describes a conflict between Elias (Ailill, d. 1042), the Irish abbot of the monasteries of St Martin and St Pantaleon in Co­logne, and Piligrinus, archbishop of Co­logne (d. 1037). The latter regarded Elias’s rule as too strict and was not in favour of his ruling St Pantaleon. Elias and the Irish responded by foretelling that Piligrinus, who was about to leave Co­logne on a visitation, would not return, and indeed he did not as he died while away.22 It is clear that the Irish were active in and fully aware of monastic reforms in Lotharingia and the Ottonian Empire23 but did knowledge of this filter back to Ireland? We can see from annalistic references to other individuals that they returned to Ireland from their pilgrimages to Rome and elsewhere. Flaithbertach úa Néill, king of Cenél nÉogain, went to Rome in 1030 and came home in the following year. The obit of Cellach úa Selbaich, the successor of Bairre (Cork), in 1036 implies that he died in Ireland but that during his lifetime he had gone on a pilgrimage to Rome. Not all returned safely: although his father has made an apparently successful journey to Rome in 1028, Amlaím son of Sitriuc of Dublin was killed by Saxons on his way to Rome in 1034. In 1051, Laidcnén son of Máelán, king of Galienga, a north midland kingdom, went with his queen to Rome where he died.24 The references to Co­logne introduce an important centre of influence on the ecclesiastical life of Dublin and the eastern regions of Ireland during the eleventh century. In a detailed study of the relic-list embedded in the martyro­ logy of Christ Church Cathedral, Raghnall Ó Floinn deduced that a number 21 

Dumville, ‘St Cathróe of Metz’, p. 183. Malchananus returns from Gorze and ‘monasticum ordinem instituit’. 22  MacCarthy, Codex Palatino-Vaticanus, p. 32. 23  Picard, ‘The Cult of Columba in Lotharingia’. 24  Annals of Inisfallen, ed. and trans. by Mac Airt, 1026: ‘Máel Ruanaid Ua Maíl Doraid, king of the north [Cenél Conaill], went on his pilgrimage to Clonfert, and proceeded from there to Iona, and thence to Rome’; Annals of Inisfallen, ed. and trans. by Mac Airt, 1042: ‘The grandson of Domnall, son of Dub da Bairend [king of Uí Echach in Munster], [died] on his pilgrimage to Rome’.

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of the cathedral’s foundation relics originated in Co­logne. He also suggested that Dublin’s first bishop Dúnán (d. 1074) could have been an Irishman who was a Benedictine monk from the foundations ruled by Irishmen in Co­logne and who came back with Sitriuc, king of Dublin on his return from Rome post1028.25 If so, Dúnán was not the only known Irish ecclesiastic with Co­logne connections: Donnchad son of Gilla-MoChonna, successor of Sechnall (Dunshaughlin, Co. Meath) and the previously mentioned Ailill of Mucnam died there respectively in 1026 and 1042. As for Ailill (Elias), head of the Irish monks in Co­logne, he was a member of an ordo religionis, houses bound together by the Regula Benedicti and increasingly regulated by customs emanating from monasteries such as Gorze, Fleury, and Co­logne itself. Indeed from the mid-tenth century the Ottonians, aided by such formidable churchmen as Bruno, archbishop of Co­logne, brother of Otto I and a Benedictine reformer (d. 965), sought to promote Co­logne as the centre of a new Christian empire, transferring earlier traditions — and even relics — from towns such as Aachen, Metz, and Trier to bolster their strategy.26 Perhaps more significant for Sitriuc of Dublin’s possible connections with Co­logne was the authority wielded in the region by Cnut the Great, king of Denmark, England, and Norway.27 Cnut had attended the coronation of Conrad II as emperor in Rome in March 1027 and had been there on business gaining an exemption from tolls and safe passage for English and Scandinavian merchants and pilgrims to the Holy City. Cnut exchanged many lavish gifts with the pope, the emperor, and other kings during his visit. A further aspect to Cnut’s interaction with the emperor and especially with Ottonian bishops related to establishing the same bishops’ jurisdiction over English and Scandinavian bishops. His desire to loosen ties with the German bishops was not fully realized as Archbishop Unwan of Bremen succeeded in postponing the creation of an independent archbishopric of Scandinavia at this time.28 The possibility that Sitriuc was somehow involved in Cnut’s network on the Continent — not surprising given his links with the English Scandinavian king — and in particular with the ecclesiastical authority of Co­logne might be conjectured by the existence of the relics of St Ursula and the eleven thousand virgins, a cult specifically based in Co­logne, in the Dublin Christ Church list, and equally by the influence of the same cult on 25 

Ó Floinn, ‘The Foundation Relics of Christ Church’. Sanderson, ‘The Sources and Significance of the Ottonian Church of Saint Pantaleon’. 27  Wolfram, Conrad II, p. 103. 28  Wolfram, Conrad II, pp. 103–04. 26 

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the cult of St Sunniva of Selja in Norway, discussed in this volume by Alf Tore Hommedal.29 If Sitriuc returned with a bishop and relics for Dublin, and such travels and connections are known to have led to changes in the tenth- and eleventh-century Anglo-Saxon Church including in monastic practices,30 is there not the likelihood that similar influences also permeated parts of the Irish Church by the mid-eleventh century?

Irish Monastic Rules and Customs If this was the case, what form of Irish monasticism was sufficiently robust to withstand the wave of Benedictine regularization that gained a foothold on the Continent and in Britain in the eleventh century, and which is likely to have established itself in Dublin? A key yardstick by which to measure external influences might be the rules used in Irish monastic communities. Much has been said about rules emanating from Irish monastic milieux, fleeting comparisons made between them and the Regula Benedicti and less so Augustinianinfluenced rules — the so-called mixed rules of the Continent — the rules of the céli Dé and the ascetic movement in early Irish monasticism.31 The Irish rules have been dated generally to the eighth and ninth centuries but the manu­ script traditions (although post-eleventh century) would suggest that they were widely circulated as they were copied into many major late medi­eval codices and assiduously assembled by the Franciscans in the seventeenth century. There is no Irish equivalent of the tenth-century English Regularis concordia and no rule that bridges the gap between the céli Dé rules and the introduction of the order rules in the twelfth century. If it is assumed that the Irish rules fairly reflect the nature of Irish monasticism in the tenth and eleventh centuries, what can be deduced from them? They describe men and women living together in communities dedicated to a particular religious lifestyle and inspired by a spiritual cause. This may be obvious, but in scholarly debates about monastic towns or the development of monastic art and architecture in Ireland, the often indistinguishable lines between secular and ecclesiastical authority tends to overshadow the communities — however small — trying to follow a rule and a distinctive lifestyle. And Ireland was no different from England or the Continent in that the clam29 

See pp. 45–72, below; Dubois, Sanctity in the North, p. 67. Jones, ‘A Liturgical Miscellany in Cam­bridge’, p. 127. 31  Follett, Céli Dé in Ireland. 30 

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our of the world beyond such communities was so great that the same world could often besiege it. Indeed a canon of Liège writing c. 1120 in his treatise Libellus de diversis ordinibus et professionibus qui sunt in aecclesia classified various forms of the religious life based on their proximity or otherwise to human settlements, and especially urban centres: ‘iuxta homines’ (near men), ‘longe ab hominibus’ (a distance from men), and ‘qui seculares dicuntur’ (those who are called secular).32 Communities rather than hermits were essential to thriving monasticism — of course, hermits existed and the eremitical life was important in Ireland (as it was elsewhere) but it was not the dominant monastic lifestyle. In his detailed study on the organization of the Church in Ireland between ad 650 and 1000, Colmán Etchingham considered monasticism in its primary sense from early and middle Irish and Latin sources. In my estimation, his conclusion is significant: A coenobitic variety [of monasticism] is of the essence throughout the period studied and in all classes of source-material. The unregulated or self-appointed solitary holy man was viewed unfavourably, while at the same the authorised anchorite was highly regarded. It seems that such a person was rarely a true hermit, however. He or she usually dwelt with others devoted to a similarly high level of mortification within or in proximity to an ecclesiastical community also comprising those who did not attempt to meet such demanding standards.33

How was this coenobitic community, consisting of fírmanaig (true monks) living in an eclais óentad (communal church)34 organized? The late eighth-/early ninth-century Old Irish penitential offers an insight into the character of an eclais óentad: As for one who desires to attain the pitch of perfection, (s)he distributes all to the poor and needy and goes on pilgrimage/into retirement [in-ailithri] or lives in destitution in a communal church until (s)he goes to heaven.35

The pitch of perfection of this community was not far from that which Francis of Assisi exhorted of his own companions: prayer, chastity, poverty, and obedience. Manual labour and direct contact with the outside world were not always 32  Libellus de diversis ordinibus, ed. and trans. by Constable and Smith, p. xxiii; Caby, ‘Pour une histoire des usages monastiques’, p. 4. 33  Etchingham, Church Organisation in Ireland, p. 361. 34  Etchingham suggests that this may be a distinct category of ecclesiastical settlement, Church Organisation in Ireland, p. 341. 35  Gwynn, ‘An Irish Penitential’, p. 154 § 6.

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essential components of this lifestyle. And manaig, regarded by Etchingham primarily as lay tenants or para-monastics,36 did exist and they were bound to the church, but these people were not voluntarily subject to the strictures of a rule. Clarke in his study of the Benedictines appositely characterizes this population as ‘the precinct community’ of a monastery.37 Such precinct communities could be quite extensive and in many cases became the nuclei of later towns. Rather than focusing on a general comparison of rules to show how this concept of a community worked, it is more instructive to examine a specific Irish text on the rule on meals and the refectory (Ord Prainni ocus Prainntige).38 As an aside this rule corroborates annalistic records that communal refectories existed in Ireland.39 Some of the regulations in the rule were intended for a wider populace but the text distinguishes them from the rules applied to maic eclaise (sons of the church): The questions of the refectory, usually it is thus agreed: The manual workers have the largest rations wherever they are […] For the sons of the church fasts will be proper — For every period is a Lent and a fast for them […] When the little bell of the refectory is rung, not insignificant, The brother who hears, they all go to it. When he comes in, he lowers his face with splendour, He sings the pater, ‘I beseech’ [i.e. arco fuin = posco ueniam],           he bends down three times. He then sits at the table, he blesses the ration, A hymn of praise is sung, a bell is set in motion, he says ‘Benedīct’. A senior in the house replies, he says ‘God be with you!’ They consume food and drink, they give thanks after that […] Then everyone to his cell [cubacail] without murmuring, without anger, To read, to pray, to appeal to the King.40

36 

Etchingham, Church Organisation in Ireland, pp. 290–318. Clark, The Benedictines in the Middle Ages, pp. 162–63. 38  Meyer, ‘Ord Prainni  Prainntige’. 39  Annals of Ulster, ed. and trans. by Mac Airt and Mac Niocaill, 912, 971. 40  Meyer, ‘Ord Prainni  Prainntige’, pp. 27–28, 29–30 (my translation). 37 

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This is a communal life, not one of scattered tenants or isolated hermits and in focusing on community life echoes similar provisions in the Regula Benedicti.41 As with the Regula Benedicti, the Irish rules and the text on the refectory emphasize humility, obedience, moderation, and communal possession, avoiding excess and gossiping, and living a life of repentance. The rule of Máel Ruain of Tallaght, for example, warned monks against gossiping: He bade them not to ask the people who came to visit them for news, or to talk to them, but only to transact the business that they came about: because great is the harm that is done and the disturbance that is caused by such news to the mind of him to whom it is told.42

Treatment of chastity varies and like the Regula Benedicti, as opposed to the socalled Augustinian rule, is not overstated as an aspect of monastic life. This may have changed, however, as the Augustinian influence on monasticism began to take stronger root in the twelfth century. Apart from the possible Benedictine foundation in Dublin, were there customs that distinguished one community from another (e.g. Armagh from Kells, from Clonmacnoise, Glendalough, Clonfert, and so on) that probably did not amount to the existence of an ordo religionis? Monastic customaries do not survive from Irish foundations of the period but there is some evidence that such customaries may have existed. The so-called Tallaght ‘dossier’ — a series of instructions which could be regarded as a customary in its own right — refers to different regulations that were imposed by various abbots. A passage in the teaching of Máel Ruain is instructive: ‘I have heard’ said Máel Dithruib, ‘that Dublitir’s customary form of vigil is to say the hundred and fifty psalms standing, with a genuflexion at the end of each psalm.’ ‘Such is not my command,’ said Máel Ruain, ‘but to chant every other fifty (or, every other psalm — the old book says, ‘each division,’) sitting and standing alternately. If any one,’ said he, ‘were to remain seated longer than this, he would fall asleep: and if he remained standing longer, he would be tired out.’43

Is there any sense from the annals or from hagio­graphy that monasteries were linked together by common customs rather than by associations with a common founder — or indeed did these factors overlap? If a Benedictine rule was established in Dublin but not much beyond the Norse town, there may have been 41 

The Rule of St Benedict, ed. by Fry, chaps 39, 41. Teaching of Mael Ruain, ed. by Gwynn, p. 21 § 33. 43  Teaching of Mael Ruain, ed. by Gwynn, p. 23 § 36. 42 

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reasons for this situation. It could be argued that the rule that originated from German and English ‘reformed’ monasteries belonged to different cultures, and although many of the core principles would have been common to monastic life anywhere, the culture was predominantly vernacular in Ireland and authority was primarily in the hands of laymen who did not necessarily live a communal life or follow a rule. A further factor for the absence of an agreed rule or customs in Ireland may have been related to the absence of a centralized secular royal power to support and implement reform. The Lotharingian reform was supported by the Ottonians and a highly influential episcopal elite while the Regularis concordia was instituted at the Council of Winchester c. 973 under the direction of Aethelwold of Winchester (and earlier Dunstan of Glastonbury), and King Edgar of England.44 The constant and fierce rivalry of Irish provincial kings in their attempts to seize and hold the kingship of Ireland mitigated against a widespread reform as a stable and central royal authority rarely existed until the late eleventh century. It is at this juncture that the religious orders began to establish themselves seriously in the country. Furthermore, the abbot of Armagh was often more superior than any king — certainly in ecclesiastical matters — and changes could not happen without his assent. It would appear that neither abbots nor bishops of Armagh until the early twelfth century took any leading role in changes and viewed Dublin and its new foundations (cathedral and monastery) as rivals for primacy. This attitude may have hindered the spread of the Regularis concordia or its Continental equivalents in Ireland. In the royal sphere, Muirchertach Ua Briain, king of Ireland (d. 1119), appears to have adopted a role similar to Edgar and other kings in England in being active in promoting transformation in the Irish Church — actively supporting the Synods of Cashel (1101) and Ráith Bresail (1111) and establishing strong links with the English Church, inviting the Irishman Malchus, a Benedictine from Winchester, to become bishop of Waterford.45

The Structure of an Irish Monastic Community The concept of stabilitas raises the issue of the governance of a monastic community. The Regula Benedicti envisaged the ideal monastery as that of coenobites who lived according to a rule and were obedient to an abbot.46 The rule of 44 

Parsons, Millennium of Council of Winchester. O’Connor, ‘Bishop Malchus’; Bhreathnach, ‘Benedictine Influence in Ireland’. 46  The Rule of St Benedict, ed. by Fry, chap. 1. 45 

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St Augustine expressed communal living somewhat differently from a monastic community as visualized in the Regula Benedicti: The main purpose for you having come together is to live harmoniously in your house, intent upon God in oneness of mind and heart. The superior should be obeyed as a father with the respect due him so as not to offend God in his person, and, even more so, the priest who bears responsibility for you all.47

The apparent adoption of forms of the Augustinian rule and not the Benedictine rule by some early Irish foundations in the twelfth century suggests that the vita apostolica as laid down by the canons suited the structures of earlier foundations to a greater degree, although it has to be stated that the Augustinian rule did not sweep through Ireland as rapidly as normally depicted.48 An eleventh-century poem in praise of Áed úa Forréid, bishop of Armagh (d. 1056), that eulogizes the bishop in very aristocratic terms, provides a useful insight into the hierarchy of mid-eleventh-century Armagh — the ruling elite of the monastery:49 Table 1.1. List of monastic hierarchy in mid eleventh-century Armagh. Person

Status

Origin

Áed úa Forréid Amalgaid Echnartach mac Cernaig Dubthach Cummascach úa hErodáin Máel Pátraic úa Bileóice Duiligén Mac Gilla Chiaráin Muiredach Flann Mainistrech Eochacán Ua Ruadrach

Ordained bishop Abbot ?Oeconomus Confessor (Ánchara) Head of the poor of Armagh Lector (Fer léigind) Ordained priest Head of guest house Comarba Rónáin Suí ‘scholar’ ?Scribe ?Cantor

Cenél nÉogain Clann Shínaig ?Clann Chernaig/Airgíalla

47 

Uí Bresail/Airgíalla

?muintir Bhrolcháin/Cenél nÉogain ?Drumiskin, Co. Louth Monasterboice, Co. Louth ?Slane, Co. Meath ?Termonfeckin, Co. Louth

Rule of St Augustine, chaps 1 § 2, 7 § 1 (Fordham Sourcebook [accessed 1 July 2018]). 48  This will form a key element of the more extensive study of Irish monasticism in the period ad 900–1300. See also Burton and Stöber, The Regular Canons. 49  ‘A Poem in Praise of Aodh Úa Foirréidh’, ed. and trans. by Murphy.

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What can be construed from this list about Armagh at the time? Most of those holding senior offices, including Áed úa Forréid himself, belonged to local ecclesiastical families who were hereditary office-holders in Armagh, some for centuries.50 The abbot, Amalgaid, was a layman and while Áed was a bishop and possibly celibate, two of his family held offices in Armagh after his death.51 He is addressed as a noble and although reference is made to his austerity, learning, and possible celibacy (lines 8c–d ‘aged re Dīa, druim re mnaī’ ‘face turned to God, back turned to woman’) it is difficult to recognize Áed from the poem as the head of a monastic community. One line describes him as a distinguished ‘suí’ (scholar) surrounded by brown monks (line 16b ‘donnmanach’) which may refer to a monastic habit, although this is quite tenuous. Other contemporary documents,52 and especially short notes written into the famous Book of Kells, provide more tangible evidence for the existence of a community that is supported by the wider Kells population and that is described as specifically devoted to God: These [church and royal nobles] have all granted forever Dísert Choluim Chille in Kells, with its vegetable garden, to God and pious pilgrims [do deoraduib cráidbechaib]; no pilgrim having any lawful possession in it at any time until he devotes his life to God, and is devout.53

That this community was regarded as special and living apart from the greater population of Kells is evident from the confirmation of this endowment: The blessing of the living God and of all the just upon the king, the abbot, and the congregation who confirmed this dísert to God and his pious pilgrims [ad 1073/87].54

The dísert, borrowed from Latin desertum, was allotted to the pilgrims of God, and although likely not to have been too far away from the main settlement or too isolated, the very use of the term, and also ‘deorud’ (pilgrim, exile), ‘cráibdech’ (devout), and ‘céli Dé’ (clients of God), implied that this was a separate group following a particular lifestyle. 50 

Ó Fiaich, ‘The Church of Armagh under Lay Control’. Annala Rioghachta Eireann, ed. and trans. by O’Donovan, 1088 (Cathalán Ua Forréidh) and 1137 (Macraith Ua Forreith). 52  Notitiæ as Leabhar Cheanannais, ed. by Mac Niocaill; ‘The Irish Charters’; Herbert, ‘Charter Material from Kells’; Bhreathnach, ‘Observations on the Book of Durrow Memorandum’. 53  Notitiæ as Leabhar Cheanannais, ed. by Mac Niocaill, p. 14 (II). 54  Notitiæ as Leabhar Cheanannais, ed. by Mac Niocaill, p. 16 (II). 51 

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The Monastic Landscape in Ireland The character of the monastic landscape whether relating to the core settlement or its effect on the greater landscape is a topic that has absorbed many scholars worldwide, not least in Ireland. As previously mentioned, much of the debate in Ireland has concentrated on the characterization of the ‘monastic town’,55 but in recent years scholars such as Tomás Ó Carragáin have highlighted the significance of other indicators for the existence of a monastic community in the archaeo­logical record. Among the clearest is the concentration of male burials in sites such as the islands of Illaunloughan and Skellig, Co. Kerry and High Island, Co. Galway.56 Similarly, excavations undertaken when the Cross of the Scriptures and the South Cross at Clonmacnoise were moved revealed twenty-six burials, all male.57 It has yet to be determined if these clearly eminent men were secular kings, monastic lay nobles, or monks. While Ireland had no Roman towns, places such as Armagh nevertheless contained important settled quarters built around relics58 — zones viewed elsewhere as potentially supervised by a religious community59 — and by the mid-eleventh century the Norse towns, especially Dublin, must have incorporated developing ecclesiastical quarters, including a cathedral and a possible Benedictine foundation. But what of the physical layout of a church or quarter dedicated to the clients or exiles of God? The Kells notitiae provide some clues: The priest of Kells, Colmán Ua Bresslén bought for his sons, Ferdomnach and Muiredach and Cellach the pilgrim [deorud] the grove of trees [muine] at the head of the estate [ferann] in the direction of the refectory towards Ua Dornán’s barn [ithlann]; twenty-two feet in its appearance from opposite the stone house [clochán] to the barn; six feet the width of the street [sráit] between them and the refectory; the distance from the stone house to Cuaca’s barn except the site of one house between them and Cuaca’s barn. He bought [it] from the céli Dé of the dísert [ad 1134/36].60

55 

This debate originates from Doherty, ‘The Monastic Town’. Ó Carragáin, ‘New Light on Early Insular Monasteries’, pp. 1182–86. 57  King, ‘Clonmacnoise, Offaly’. 58  Lynn, ‘Excavations at 46–48 Scotch Street, Armagh’. 59  Esquieu, ‘Les clercs dans la ville en France méridionale’, pp. 35–39. 60  Notitiæ as Leabhar Cheanannais, ed. by Mac Niocaill, p. 32 (XI). 56 

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This further extract from the Kells notes touches on the vital question of the monastic landscape of eleventh- and twelfth-century Ireland.61 If this is a description of the ‘sen láthair’ (old site) of the dísert, what can be inferred from it as to its physical characteristics? It would seem to have consisted of a stone house, a street, and possibly a barn, although the latter may have been in private ownership. This was not a big space: one wonders about the distance from the church and if other stone houses existed. What of the other buildings: clusters of cells, a refectory, churches including reliquary churches (reclés), round towers, cemeteries, and enclosures? Documentary sources offer fleeting glimpses of other buildings from barely attested terms including tech coitchenn (common house = chapter house?), tech n-abbad (abbot’s house), tech forchetail (a house of learning?), tech mór (great house in a monastic settlement), tech péine (penitentiary), and tech screptra (a monastic library = a house of scriptures). These were not necessarily the spaces used exclusively by a monastic community but were probably accessible to many of a settlement’s residents, religious and lay. Notably missing from Irish termino­logy is a word denoting any form of cloister. The origin of the term ‘cloister’ — Latin claustrum — means ‘enclosure’. The Irish term claustra is a late medi­e val borrowing and there is no evidence in the Irish sources for the existence of cloisters associated with early monastic communities. Enclosure is the most common phenomenon used to express the demarcation of a sacred space. However, the termino­logy and archaeo­logy of enclosure is complex. Many of the terms for enclosure describe both ecclesiastical and secular settlements: cathair, clad, les, and airlise. Secular settlements were enclosed — ringforts and cashels being the most obvious examples — as were all forms of religious sites from prehistory onwards, henges, temples, cemeteries, and churches. The morpho­logy and function of the great prehistoric ceremonial enclosures as discovered at Ráith na Ríg in Tara and encircling the core of the ecclesiastical settlement at Clonmacnoise have many parallels.62 They both marked out and set apart a sacred space in which particular ceremonies took place and which was reserved for certain classes and functionaries both religious and secular (if that distinction is even pertinent). In the Christian context, did the enclosure denote a cloistered space set aside for and governed by a community — a monastic community? Not necessarily.63 Recent 61 

Notitiæ as Leabhar Cheanannais, ed. by Mac Niocaill, p. 32 (XI). Roche, ‘Tara Excavations’; Murphy, ‘Clonmacnoise Excavations’. 63  For the fundamental difference between enclosure (clôture) and cloister (cloître) and the paucity of evidence for the latter in France Méridionale prior to the twelfth century, see Esquieu, ‘Les clercs dans la ville en France méridionale’, pp. 42–47. 62 

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excavations of medi­e val ecclesiastical sites in Ireland suggest that the enclosure was not a distinctive feature associated particularly with monasticism.64 Enclosure ditches were not confined to large-scale ecclesiastical foundations. Many sites were defined by one enclosure. Large-scale foundations were more complex, however, either for defensive purposes or more importantly because these extensive sites were often sub-divided into different zones. Best known from the sources and early modern maps were the districts known as a trian (a third) into which the ecclesiastical city of Armagh was divided: Trian Mór, Trian Saxan, Trian Massáin, Trian Medónach. And these zones could be laid out by physically building a series of enclosures. The remarkable excavation at Clonfad, Co. Westmeath provided archaeo­logical evidence for the organization of the ecclesiastical settlement between the seventh and ninth centuries, the main features of which were identified by the excavator as a large oval trivallate ‘monastery’ enclosing 4.54 ha, a possible central enclosure (sanctissimus) equivalent to the area of the later church and graveyard, an inner V-shaped enclosing ditch c. 60 m in radius that was used as the industrial quarter and possibly a residential quarter, and a massive outer V-shaped enclosing ditch defining an elongated oval enclosure, 180–200 m in diameter. Clonfad effectively ceased to function after the ninth century.65 What can this valuable evidence tell us about the nature of the community living in Clonfad from c. ad 550–900? Can we call it a monastic community sēnsu strictō at all? Did the three enclosures offer a varying degree of claustration to the inhabitants of Clonfad? If some were engaged in metal-working and other crafts or in agriculture, were they manaig (lay tenants) of the church or were they fírmanaig (true monks) who worked at such crafts but whose life was determined by liturgy with certain times devoted to contemplation and prayer? And what of other ecclesiastical settlements that survived to the ‘reform’ period and beyond in Ireland?

Conclusion These questions remain unresolved and we are now only beginning to comprehend the complexity of monasticism and its landscape in Ireland with the increasing use of interdisciplinary studies and modern techno­logy. While the source material is very different from what is regarded as the ‘norm’, especially with greater use of the vernacular and the absence of administrative docu64  65 

Corlett and Potterton, The Church in Early Medi­eval Ireland. Stevens, ‘The Early Medi­eval Church in Ireland’.

40

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ments including charters before the twelfth century, this should not result in viewing Irish monasticism as diverging completely from practices elsewhere. Normalization of monastic rules and structures was a long process in Britain and on the Continent, and sufficient evidence exists to suggest that Ireland cannot have been isolated from changes happening elsewhere. There is a need to read Irish texts from this perspective, and this essay is but a brief foray in that direction.

Works Cited Primary Sources Annala Rioghachta Eireann: Annals of the Kingdom of Ireland by the Four Masters, from the Earliest Period to the Year 1616, ed. and trans. by John O’Donovan, 7 vols (Dublin: Hodges, Smith and Co., 1848–51; repr. Dublin, 1856; repr. Dublin: De Búrca, 1998) The Annals of Inisfallen MS. Rawlinson B. 503, ed. and trans. by Seán Mac Airt (Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1951; repr. 1977) The Annals of Ulster (to A.D. 1131), ed. and trans. by Seán Mac Airt and Gearóid Mac Niocaill (Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1983) Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, trans. by Regis J. Armstrong, J. A. Wayne Hellmann, and William J. Short, 3 vols (New York: New City Press, 1999–2001) Libellus de diversis ordinibus et professionibus qui sunt in aecclesia, ed. and trans. by Giles Constable and Bernard Smith (Oxford: Clarendon, 2003) A Martyro­logy of Four Cities: Metz, Co­logne, Dublin, Lund, ed. by Pádraig Ó Riain, Henry Bradshaw Society, 118 (London: Boydell, 2009) Notitiæ as Leabhar Cheanannais, 1033–1161, ed. by Gearóid Mac Niocaill (Dublin: Cló Morainn, 1961) ‘A Poem in Praise of Aodh Úa Foirréidh, Bishop of Armagh (1032–1056)’, ed. and trans. by Gerard Murphy, in Measgra i gCuimhne Mhichíl Uí Chléirigh: Miscellany of Historical and Linguistic Studies in Honour of Brother Mícheál Ó Cleirigh, OFM, Chief of the Four Masters, 1643–1943, ed. by Sylvester O’Brien (Dublin: Assisi, 1944), pp. 140–64 The ‘Rule of St Benedict’ in Latin and English with Notes, ed. by Timothy Fry (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1981) The Teaching of Mael Ruain, in The Rule of Tallaght, ed. by Edward J. Gwynn (Dublin: Hodges, 1927), pp. 2–63

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Secondary Works Bhreathnach, Edel, ‘Benedictine Influence in Ireland in the Late Eleventh and Twelfth Century: A Reflection’, Journal of Medi­eval Monastic Studies, 1 (2012), 63–92 —— , ‘Observations of the Book of Durrow Memorandum’, in Sacred Historie: A Festschrift for Máire Herbert, ed. by John Carey, Kevin Murray, and Caitríona Ó Dochartaigh (Dublin: Four Courts, 2015), pp. 14–21 Brown, Peter, The Body and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia Uni­ver­sity Press, 1988; repr. 2008) Burton, Janet, and Karen Stöber, eds, The Regular Canons in the Medi­eval British Isles, Medi­eval Church Studies, 19 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011) Caby, Cécile, ‘Pour une histoire des usages monastiques de l’espace urbain de l’Antiquité tardive à la fin du Moyen Âge’, in Espaces monastiques et espaces urbains de l’Antiquité tardive à la fin du Moyen Âge: Varia, Melanges de l’École Française de Rome, Moyen Âge (Rome: l’École Française, 2012), pp. 45–81 Charles-Edwards, Thomas M., The Early Mediaeval Gaelic Lawyer (Cam­bridge: Depart­ ment of Anglo-Saxon, Norse and Celtic, Uni­ver­sity of Cam­bridge, 1999) Clark, James G., The Benedictines in the Middle Ages (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2011) Coffey, Brendan, ‘The Stowe Enigma: Decoding the Mystery’, Irish Theo­logical Quarterly, 75 (2010), 75–91 Constable, Giles, Renaissance and Renewal in the Twelfth Century (Oxford: Clarendon, 1982) Corlett, Christiaan, and Michael Potterton, eds, The Church in Early Medi­eval Ireland in the Light of Recent Archaeo­logical Excavations (Dublin: Wordwell, 2014) Dey, Hendrik, and Elizabeth Fentress, eds, Western Monasticism ante litteram: The Spaces of Monastic Observance in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, Disciplina monastica, 7 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011) Doherty, Charles, ‘The Monastic Town in Early Medi­eval Ireland’, in The Comparative History of Urban Origins in non-Roman Europe, ed. by Howard. B. Clarke and Anngret Simms, British Archaeo­logical Reports: International Series, 255 (Oxford: British Archaeo­logical Reports, 1985), pp. 45–75 Downham, Clare, ‘England and the Irish Sea Zone in the Eleventh Century’, AngloNorman Studies, 26 (2003), 55–73 DuBois, Thomas A., Sanctity in the North: Saints, Lives, and Cults in Medi­eval Scandinavia (Toronto: Uni­ver­sity of Toronto Press, 2008) Dumville, David N., ‘St Cathróe of Metz and the Hagio­graphy of Exoticism’, in Studies in Irish Hagio­graphy: Saints and Scholars, ed. by John Carey, Máire Herbert, and Pádraig Ó Riain (Dublin: Four Courts, 2001), pp. 172–88 Dunn, Marilyn, The Emergence of Monasticism: From the Desert Fathers to the Early Middle Ages (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000) Esquieu, Yves, ‘Les clercs dans la ville en France méridionale (IVe–XIe siècle)’, in Moines et religieux dans la ville (XIIe–XVe siècle), Cahiers de Fanjeaux, 44 (Toulouse: Éditions Privat, 2009), pp. 31–50

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Etchingham, Colmán, Church Organisation in Ireland ad 650 to 1000 (Maynooth: Laigin, 1999) —— , ‘The Organization and Function of an Early Irish Church Settlement: What Was Glendalough?’, in Glendalough: City of God, ed.  by Charles Doherty, Linda Doran, and Mary Kelly (Dublin: Four Courts, 2011), pp. 22–53 Evans, Gillian R., ‘The Meaning of Monastic Culture: Anselm and his Contemporaries’, in The Culture of Medi­eval English Monasticism, ed. by James G. Clark (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2007), pp. 75–85 Flanagan, Marie Therese, The Transformation of the Irish Church in the Twelfth Century, Studies in Celtic History, 29 (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2010) Follett, Westley, Céli Dé in Ireland: Monastic Writing and Identity in the Early Middle Ages, Studies in Celtic History, 23 (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2006) Gwynn, Aubrey, The Irish Church in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries, ed. by Gerard O’Brien (Dublin: Four Courts, 1992) Gwynn, Edward J., ‘An Irish Penitential’, Ériu, 7 (1914), 121–95 Herbert, Máire, ‘Charter Material from Kells’, in The Book of Kells: Proceedings of a Conference at Trinity College Dublin 6–9 September 1992, ed. by Felicity O’Mahony (Aldershot: Scholar Press, 1994), pp. 60–77 —— , Iona, Kells, and Derry: The History and Hagio­graphy of the Monastic ‘familia’ of Columba (Oxford: Clarendon, 1988; repr. Dublin: Four Courts, 1996) Jones, Christopher A., ‘A Liturgical Miscellany in Cam­bridge, Corpus Christi College 190’, Traditio, 54 (1999), 103–39 Kelly, Fergus, A Guide to Early Irish Law (Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1988; repr. 2009) King, Heather A., ‘Clonmacnoise, Offaly’ [accessed 16 July 2018] Lawrence, Clifford H., Medi­eval Monasticism: Forms of Religious Life in Western Europe in the Middle Ages, 3rd edn (Harlow: Pearson, 2001) Lynn, Chris J., ‘Excavations at 46–48 Scotch Street, Armagh 1979–80’, Ulster Journal of Archaeo­logy, 51 (1988), 69–84 MacCarthy, Bartholomew, The Codex Palatino-Vaticanus, No. 830, Todd Lecture Series, 3 (Dublin: Royal Irish Academy, 1892) MacDonald, Aidan, ‘Aspects of the Monastery and Monastic Life in Adomnán’s Life of Columba’, Peritia, 3 (1984), 271–392 —— , ‘The Irish Charters’, in The Book of Kells: Proceedings of a Conference at Trinity College Dublin 6–9 September 1992, ed. by Felicity O’Mahony (Aldershot: Scholar Press, 1994), pp. 153–65 Meyer, Kuno, ‘Mitteilungen aus irischen Handschriften: Ord Prainni  Prainntighi inn so sīs’, Zeitschrift für celtische Philo­logie, 13 (1921), 27–30 Nyberg, Tore, Monasticism in North-Western Europe, 800–1200 (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000) Ó Carragáin, Tomás, ‘New Light on Early Insular Monasteries’, Antiquity, 83 (2009), 1182–86 O’Connor, Dónal, ‘Bishop Malchus: His Arrival in Lismore, and the Winchester Saints in a Waterford Calendar’, Decies: Journal of the Waterford Archaeo­logical and Historical Society, 62 (2006), 49–66

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Ó Fiaich, Tomás, ‘The Church of Armagh under Lay Control’, Seanchas Ardmhacha: Journal of the Armagh Diocesan Historical Society, 5 (1969), 75–127 Ó Floinn, Raghnall, ‘The Foundation Relics of Christ Church Cathedral and the Origins of the Diocese of Dublin’, in Medi­eval Dublin, vii: Proceedings of the Friends of Medi­ eval Dublin Symposium, 2005, ed.  by Seán Duffy (Dublin: Four Courts, 2006), pp. 89–102 O’Hara, Alexander, and Faye Taylor, ‘Aristocratic and Monastic Conflict in Tenth-Cen­ tury Italy: The Case of Bobbio and the Miracula Sancti Columbani’, Viator, 44.3 (2013), 43–61 O’Mahony, Felicity, ed., The Book of Kells: Proceedings of a Conference at Trinity College Dublin 6–9 September 1992 (Aldershot: Scholar Press, 1994) Ó Riain, Pádraig, ‘Dublin’s Oldest Book? A List of Saints “Made in Germany”’, in Medi­ eval Dublin, v: Proceedings of the Friends of Medi­eval Dublin Symposium 2003, ed. by Seán Duffy (Dublin: Four Courts, 2004), pp. 52–72 Parsons, David, ed., Tenth-Century Studies: Essays in Commemoration of the Millennium of the Council of Winchester and ‘Regularis concordia’ (London: Phillimore, 1975) Picard, Jean-Michel, ‘The Cult of Columba in Lotharingia (9th–11th Centuries): The Manu­script Evidence’, in Studies in Irish Hagio­graphy: Saints and Scholars, ed. by John Carey, Máire Herbert, and Pádraig Ó Riain (Dublin: Four Courts, 2001), pp. 221–36 —— , ‘Space Organization in Early Irish Monasteries’, in Glendalough: City of God, ed. by Charles Doherty, Linda Doran, and Mary Kelly (Dublin: Four Courts, 2011), pp. 54–63 Richter, Michael, ‘The European Dimension of Irish History in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries’, Peritia, 4 (1985), 328–45 Sanderson, Warren, ‘The Sources and Significance of the Ottonian Church of Saint Panta­ leon at Co­logne’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 29 (1970), 83–96 Stevens, Paul, ‘The Early Medi­eval Church in Ireland and its Impact on Transformations in the Irish Economy’, in Dying Gods: Religious Beliefs in Northern and Eastern Europe in the Time of Christianisation, ed. by Christiane Ruhmann and Vera Brieske, Neue Studien zur Sachsenforschung, 5 (Hannover: Die Publishing Company, 2015), pp. 121–43 Valente, Mary, ‘Reassessing the Irish “Monastic Town”’, Irish Historical Studies, 31 (1998), 1–18 Valenzani, Riccardo Santangeli, ‘Aristocratic Euergetism and Urban Monasteries in Tenth-Century Rome’, in Western Monasticism ante litteram: The Spaces of Monastic Observance in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, ed.  by Hendrik Dey and Elizabeth Fentress, Disciplina monastica, 7 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), pp. 27–87 Wolfram, Herwig, Conrad II, 990–1039: Emperor of Three Kingdoms, trans. by Denise A. Kaiser (Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State Uni­ver­sity Press, 2006)

Website Irish Annals: [accessed 1 February 2019]

Map 2.1. Map of the southern part of medi­eval Norway, showing Selja and Bergen, the two main cult centres associated with St Sunniva and the Seljumenn. To the left, a more detailed view of the location of Selja in a wild and barren landscape known as Stad. Map by P. Bækken and A. T. Hommedal, 2016.

Figure 2.1. The cultural heritage site at Selja, an aerial view, with the sanctuary (in the foreground) and the Benedictine abbey with the tower (in the centre). Stad and the Atlantic Ocean are towards the north-west. Photo by T. Bickhardt, 2006.

St Sunniva, the Seljumenn, and St Alban: The Benedictines and the Sanctuary at Selja, Norway Alf Tore Hommedal

T

his paper presents and discusses the ecclesiastical settlement on the Norwegian island of Selja, with its sanctuary associated with the legend of St Sunniva and the Seljumenn, and with its Benedictine abbey dedicated to St Alban. This small island, located near the most westerly point of the Norwegian coast, grew into one of medi­eval Norway’s most important ecclesiastical centres in the centuries following the introduction of Christianity c. 1000.1 The island’s west side, with the present-day ruins of the sanctuary and the monastery, faces the open sea with the most treacherous navigable waters along the entire Norwegian coast (map 2.1, fig. 2.1). The settlement did not, however, consist only of a sanctuary and a monastery, but, for a period in the eleventh century, also incorporated the first episcopal see of western Norway, before the see was moved to Bergen after a few decades. On this small island we thus find a saint’s sanctuary, an episcopal see, and a Benedictine monastery. The aim of this paper is partly to present this rather unique ecclesiastical settlement with its majestic location in the landscape, and partly to discuss the interaction between an emerging cult of a saint, an episcopal see, and a monastery in medi­eval Norway. In the history of Selja, 1170 is an important year, as it was the year during which the relics of St Sunniva, the primary saint in the legend of Selja, were translated from there to Bergen, transforming her 1 

In Norway, the Middle Ages are defined as the period when Norway was a Catholic country, from Christianization in the decades around 1000 to the Lutheran Reformation in 1536–37. Alf Tore Hommedal ([email protected]) is Associate Professor at the Department of Cultural History, Uni­ver­sity Museum of Bergen. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 44–72 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117258

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into the patron saint of the largest town in medi­eval Norway (map 2.1). Her more anonymous entourage, however, the Seljumenn, were left behind and provided the basis for the continuation of the cult at Selja. The paper will contend that the sanctuary complex was gradually developed in the eleventh and twelfth centuries as part of a process of creating an identity and memory of St Sunniva and the Seljumenn, and that the sanctuary complex was completed before the translation of St Sunniva’s relics in 1170. The consequences for the sanctuary and monastery at Selja caused by the translation will be explored as will the possibility that the translation was followed by a period of stagnation at Selja, at least in building activity, before the Benedictines, nearly a century later, built a new monastic complex between c. 1250 and 1350. Furthermore, the decline and dissolution of the Benedictine abbey, with its consequences for the sanctuary, in the fifteenth and early sixteenth century before the Lutheran Reformation in 1536–37, will also be addressed.

The Legend of St Sunniva and the Seljumenn According to the legend in Acta sanctorum in Selio dating to c. 1170, Sunniva was an Irish queen who inherited her kingdom from her father in the middle of the tenth century (fig. 2.2).2 When a pagan Viking prince gave her the choice of marrying him or letting his army ravage her kingdom, the pious queen and her entourage — men, women, and children known as the Seljumenn — fled their country. They set out to sea in three boats with no oars or other equipment, and let God determine their destination. They eventually drifted ashore on the west coast of Norway, and the majority of the refugees reached Selja. Here, the pious Irish lived peacefully until the pagan Norwegians accused them of stealing sheep, a crime they did not commit. Sunniva and the Seljumenn then fled into a cave and rock shelter and prayed to God to protect them by having the rocks kill them and seal the entrance to the cave. God heard their prayers, and the pagan natives had to leave without achieving what they had come to do. Sunniva and her companions were martyred. The rock shelter later became the centre of the sanctuary.3 2 

Acta sanctorum in Selio is the oldest handed-down version of the legend of St Sunniva and probably was written as the Church’s official acta, either in the year of the translation (1170), or shortly before or after. ‘Den latinska Sunnivalegenden’, ed. by Borgehammar, p. 275; Ommundsen, ‘The Cult of Saints in Norway before 1200’, p. 83; Ommundsen, ‘Ei heilag jomfru til bispesetet’, p. 32. 3  The legend seems to be unusual in that God himself martyred the saints to prevent them from being captured by the heathens.

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Figure 2.2. St Sunniva flanked by St Peter and St Mary Magdalene, altarpiece from Austevoll, south of Bergen, c. 1510. Sunniva holds a book and a piece of rock that alludes to her martyrdom. Photo by S. Skare, Uni­ver­sity Museum of Bergen.

Several decades later, in 996, the Norwegian king Óláfr (I) Tryggvason, who was instrumental in introducing Christianity to Norway, was informed about this island where strange light formations were observed. The king travelled to Selja, and there, among the rubble, he and his men found the sweet-smelling bones of the martyred Irish. The body of the blessed virgin and martyr Sunniva was found unscathed, apparently in the cave. According to a later version of the legend, King Óláfr had a church built on the island to house the shrines containing the relics of Sunniva and the bones of the Seljumenn.4 4 

Oddr Snorrason’s version of the legend is from c. 1200, see Rindal, ed., Selja — heilag stad i 1000 år, p. 308; Hommedal, ‘A Holy Cave and Womb’, pp. 66–68, 81. A church at Selja is already mentioned in Adam of Bremen’s History of the Archbishops of Hamburg-Bremen, trans. by Tschan, p. 213.

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Figure 2.3. Sanctuary at Selja, from south-west, with restored stone terrace in three levels. Ruins of St Sunniva’s Church and the rock shelter. Compare Map 2.2. Photo by the author, 1991.

This is how the legend of Sunniva and the Seljumenn is recorded. It seems clear, however, that St Sunniva is a secondary and probably early twelfth-century addition to an original legend about an anonymous group of Christian refugees, and even they were also most likely fictional. However, the core of the legend may go back to c. 1000.5 King Óláfr’s church is said to have been dedicated to ‘those men of God who were there’, and not specifically to Sunniva.6

Selja as an Ecclesiastical Centre: An Overview The present cultural heritage site at Selja consists of two complexes of ruins and building fragments dating from before and after the year 1170 (figs 2.3 and 2.4, map 2.2). The first complex is the saints’ sanctuary, a place of pilgrimage, situ5 

‘Den latinska Sunnivalegenden’, ed. by Borgehammar, p. 275; Hommedal, ‘Bakgrunnen for helgenanlegget på Selja’, p. 56; O’Hara, ‘Constructing a Saint’, pp. 105–21; Ommundsen, ‘Ei heilag jomfru til bispesetet’, p. 32; Hommedal, ‘A Holy Cave and Womb’, pp. 78–82. 6  ‘þar kirkia ger. oc. helguð þessum guðs monnum er þar voro’, Rindal, ed., Selja — heilag stad i 1000 år, p. 301.

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Figure 2.4. Sanctuary of Selja with St Sunniva’s Church (in the foreground) and the ruins of the Benedictine abbey (in the background), as seen from the south-east. Parts of the guest house and stone fences can be seen south of the monastic quadrangle. Two footpaths covered by stone slabs lead to the harbour. Photo by T. Bickhardt, 2006.

ated 50 to 60 m above sea level in a funnel-shaped crevice (fig. 2.3). This construction consists of a rock shelter with two caves associated with the legend, described as a chapel in late twelfth-century sources. At a lower level in front of the rock shelter is a stone church, probably built in the last decades of the eleventh century, and in c. 1200 described as dedicated to St Sunniva. In front of this church stands a huge, now partly restored, stone terrace (fig. 2.3, map 2.2), most likely erected in several, separate building phases and finally completed in the first part of the twelfth century, at least before 1170.7 The second complex of ruins, the Benedictine abbey, which c. 1200 is mentioned as being dedicated to St Alban, was most probably founded in the last decades of the eleventh century. It is situated on the flat ground below the sanctuary, and in 1170 would have looked quite different to today’s ruined monastery. Most of the present monastic complex was built in the century between c. 1250 and 1350, and thus was erected about two hundred years after the foun7 

Hommedal, ‘A Holy Cave and Womb’, pp. 74–75.

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Alf Tore Hommedal

Map 2.2. Outline of the sanctuary and the monastery at Selja showing, A: cave; B: rock shelter; C: St Sunniva’s Church; D: stone terrace; G: north range (abbey church) with an outline of the original eleventh-century basilica; N: guest house. The infirmary is located to the southeast of the monastic quadrangle, the church yard to the north of the quadrangle, and stone paths to the west. Source: Enger, ‘Helligdommen på Selja’, p. 12.

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dation of the Benedictine monastery. One section of the surviving monastic complex is, however, older than the rest. According to the art historian Marit Nybø, the original church, of which the nave still constitutes the western part of the present Benedictine church, was erected as a basilica in the last part of the eleventh or the earliest part of the twelfth century. The still extant tower was added in the period c. 1120–60 (fig. 2.4, map 2.2).8 The rest of the original twelfth-century monastery probably consisted mostly of wooden buildings, of which there are no traces left, even though, according to Nybø, parts of a stone cloister may have existed or been planned in the mid-twelfth century.9 The present monastic conventual masonry quadrangle (fig. 2.4) was, at the time of its construction c. 1250–1350, built long after the completion of the sanctuary and the translatio of St Sunniva in 1170. The rest of the monastic complex that remains visible also dates to c. 1250–1350, consisting of a guest house, an infirmary, a boat house, and probably a gate house some distance away (map 2.2). Fragments of stone fences, footpaths of flagstones, as well as the Benedictines’ fields, are also still well preserved. This is due to the fact that the site was abandoned and only used as grazing land in the post-monastic period. The original basilica seems to be important for the short period in the last decades of the eleventh century when Selja functioned as the primary seat of the bishop of western Norway, before the see was moved to Bergen in the 1090s at the latest.10 As Nybø has argued, the basilica and abbey church was probably erected as the bishop’s cathedral, as discussed below.11 Selja seems to be the oldest sanctuary in Norway, but soon afterwards saints’ cults were also established at other Norwegian episcopal sees, such as St Óláfr’s in Niðarós (present-day Trondheim) and St Halvarðr’s in Oslo. Of all the Norwegian saints, it was St Óláfr who became a national saint and the only internationally renowned Norwegian saint.

8 

Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, pp. 204–05. Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, pp. 156–57. 10  Lange, De norske Klostres Historie i Middelalderen, p. 344; Helle, ‘Det første bispedømmet på Vestlandet’; Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, pp. 162–65; Ommundsen, ‘Ei heilag jomfru til bispesetet’, pp. 38–40. 11  Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, pp. 192–96. The basilica was a Christ Church Cathedral. 9 

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Map 2.3. Location of religious houses in medi­eval Norway. The majority of monasteries were situated in or near important medi­eval towns, including Bergen, Trondheim (Niðarós), and Oslo. Map by P. Bækken and A. T. Hommedal, 2013.

Selja and the Monastic Landscape of Medi­eval Norway Probably established c. 1090, St Alban’s Abbey at Selja is the oldest or second oldest of all Norwegian monastic foundations (map 2.3). This was a period of consolidation and organization of the nascent church in Norway, which between c. 1090 and c. 1150 saw the foundation of at least seven, and maybe up to nine, Benedictine monasteries. Four of them were for nuns and at least three or perhaps five for monks.12 All except one nunnery, at Gimsø near Skien, were established in a milieu connected to an episcopal see. However, Selja represents an exception when compared to other foundations, as the episcopal see and monastery were not located in a town. 12  The two possible, but not verified, Benedictine monasteries in Stavanger and Oslo are not mentioned in map 2.3. See Gunnes, ‘Klosterliv i Norge’, pp. 50–54; Hommedal, ‘Kva fortel bygningsrestane av dei norske klostra om kontinental norm og norsk praksis innan ordensliva?’, p. 153; Haug, ‘Noen refleksjoner etter arbeidet med Utstein klosters historie’, pp. 99–104; Ommundsen, ‘To kongar, to dronningar og eit nonnekloster’.

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Overall, about thirty-one monasteries are known from medi­e val Norway, representing ten different religious orders (map 2.3). Compared to the rest of Europe, the number of religious houses in Norway was thus rather small. Nonetheless, considering the size of Norway’s population, which seems to have been between 300,000 and 500,000 around the year 1300,13 the various religious orders were relatively well represented. Most of the Norwegian foundations, but not all, seem to have been fairly small by European standards. The Norwegian monasteries, including St Alban’s at Selja (fig. 2.4), appear to follow the standard European arrangement of a monastic complex as well as the trend of building monasteries in stone, contrasting with the Norwegian tradition of building wooden houses.14 St Alban’s at Selja is one of the best preserved medi­ eval monastic sites in Norway.

The Sanctuary at Selja and its Development until 1170 Prior to 1170 the sanctuary and the place of pilgrimage consisted, as already mentioned, of its majestic stone terrace with the small church dedicated to St Sunniva situated on its inner edge (fig. 2.3, map 2.2).15 Further up, behind the church, was the holy place of martyrdom, the rock shelter with its caves serving as a chapel in its own right. It was here, then, that the saints’ holy remains, according to the legend, were discovered by the early Christian king Óláfr (I) Tryggvason in 996, a welcome sign from heaven to assist the king’s policy of conversion. What, then, do we know about the early origins of this sanctuary? The archaeo­logical evidence uncovered during excavations of the original, inner edge of the terrace, where St Sunniva’s Church was erected later, revealed that the first expansion of the area, a soil embankment in this sloping landscape in front of the rock shelter seems to have taken place from the eighth to tenth centuries ad, and most probably during the Viking Age (c. 800–1000). Even though the exact character of this activity cannot be categorized, whether it 13 

Helle, ‘Bergen bys historie I’, p. 488. Hommedal, ‘Kva fortel bygningsrestane av dei norske klostra om kontinental norm og norsk praksis innan ordensliva?’, pp. 178–80. 15  The Romanesque church ruin, figure 2.4, map 2.2, consists of a rectangular chancel (4.6 m × 3.4 m, measured internally) and a rectangular nave (7.5 m × 4.6 m) and with walls preserved but now heavily restored from 0.6 m to 2.45 m in height. Only in the inner and lower part of the west wall in the nave, with the adjoining parts of the nave’s north and south wall, are the larger ashlars part of the genuine masonry. 14 

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was related to a pagan or a Christian community, it seems to be connected to the origin of the rock shelter and the caves as a sanctuary, and thus related to the core of the legend of Sunniva and the Seljumenn. But was this centre influenced from Europe to the south, Ireland and Britain in the west, or by local inhabitants on Selja? The oldest reliable narrative of the saints from Selja can be found in the German historian Adam of Bremen’s Gesta Hammaburgensis ecclesiae pontificum, added to the main text c. 1080 in a scholion.16 It refers to the legend of St Ursula and the eleven thousand virgins from Co­logne, whose legend quite possibly served as a model for the Selja legend. 17 There has also been some debate as to whether the legend of Sunniva can be linked to western influence as the legend emphasizes, or possibly to the presence of Irish hermit monks (papar) at Selja. However, an even older pre-Viking Age use of the rock shelter has been documented archaeo­logically, dating within the period between ad  100 and 550. This was a settlement that most probably also included human burials in the rock shelter. It has been suggested, therefore, that human remains from these Iron Age burials provided the relics that gave rise to the legend at Selja.18 Regardless of the archaeo­logical origins of the relics, the sanctuary seems to have developed gradually over the first part of the Middle Ages. No tangible traces of a possible wooden church from the time of King Óláfr (I) Tryggvason have been discovered, and if the legend’s reference to this church is correct, it may have been built on the site of the later monastery below the sanctuary. The chapel in the rock shelter included a well in one of the two caves where, according to fourteenth-century sources, many sick people were healed by drinking from it. Thus the source offers indirect evidence of pilgrimage to the chapel. It is also interesting that the chapel, which seems to have been at least partly whitewashed, was not dedicated to the saints of Selja but probably to St Michael the Archangel, and possibly also to the Virgin Mary.19 This seems to support the doubt as to the primacy of Sunniva in the cult at Selja. 16 

Adam of Bremen, History of the Archbishops of Hamburg-Bremen, trans. by Tschan, p. 213, no. 145. 17  Borgehammar, ‘Sunnivalegenden och den benediktinska reformen i England’, p. 141 n. 44; Hommedal, ‘A Holy Cave and Womb’, pp. 78–79. 18  For a more complete discussion on the dawn of sanctuary, see Hommedal, ‘Bakgrunnen for helgenanlegget på Selja’ and Hommedal, ‘A Holy Cave and Womb’. 19  Hommedal, ‘A Holy Cave and Womb’, pp. 72–73.

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The present church of St Sunniva was probably built during the last decades of the eleventh century. The church is described c. 1200 as being dedicated to Sunniva, but was originally probably dedicated to the Seljumenn, as was King Óláfr’s first church on the island, according to the legend.20 An important feature of the church was its stone catafalque in the chancel, behind the altar, on which the shrine of St Sunniva must have rested before her translation. After that, the shrine was most likely replaced with shrines for the Seljumenn.21 The huge terrace on which St Sunniva’s Church was constructed (fig. 2.3, map 2.2) seems to have been erected in several, separate building phases and to have been completed in the first part of the twelfth century, with its earliest phase in the archaeo­logically documented Viking Age soil embankment.22 If the completed terrace consisted of one level, and not three as seen today, it would have been an impressive 12 m high, nearly double the size of its present, partly restored height. According to the Flateyjarbók, a manu­script of Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta, written in the 1380s, the terrace was characterized as ‘æitt mikit griothlad ok sua hátt ok Ramgert sem hit sterkazsta virki segía sua sumir men at þat se æítt hit mesta mannuirke aþann hatt sem þat er gert’ (a great stone revetment as high and strong as the most solid of fortresses. Some people say that this is supposed to be one of the greatest constructions that people have created of its kind).23 Since the original outer edge of the terrace has

20 

‘Svnnifo k.’ (Sunniva’s Church) is mentioned in a late twelfth-century source, but the location of the church is not mentioned. A written source from the 1380s, however, tells us that ‘En Svnifo kirkia er vpp ifjallit hia klaustrinu’ (Sunniva’s Church is in the mountain up from the monastery), Rindal, ed., Selja — heilag stad i 1000 år, pp. 306, 321; Hommedal, ‘A Holy Cave and Womb’, pp. 73–74. 21  For a discussion and a rejection of the theory that St Sunniva’s shrine could have been located in the Benedictine basilica, see Hommedal, ‘A Holy Cave and Womb’, p. 73. 22  For more details, see Hommedal, ‘A Holy Cave and Womb’. The dating of the completed terrace relies, for example, on the analysis of masonry that corresponds to the masonry in the tower of the Benedictine church. According to Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, p. 197, such a dating of masonry in the terrace is not possible since Romanesque masonry was used towards 1250. However, the masonry in the tower shows that such masonry was present at Selja c. 1120–60. Romanesque masonry also differs within its period of existence, and the masonry in the tower and in the terrace are almost identical both in composition and in workmanship that indicates a corresponding dating. However, in reality, Nybø agrees on the dating of the terrace. 23  Rindal, ed., Selja — heilag stad i 1000 år, pp. 322, 328; translated into English by the author from the Norwegian translation by the Norse philo­logist, Else Mundal.

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disappeared, it is not known if it consisted of any buildings or other constructions. However, Flateyjarbók does not mention any such constructions. The presence of the terrace is best explained in a liturgical context, as a gathering place and a place for liturgical processions, as without the terrace area it would be impossible to hold such processions in the sloping and rocky surroundings of the sanctuary. St Sunniva’s Church would have been too small to accommodate all the people visiting the sanctuary, at least on the saints’ feast day, Seljumannamessa on 8 July. The church, with its opposite facing doorways in the nave (fig. 2.4, map 2.2), would have functioned as a simple ambulatory, where pilgrims could pass through to see the holy shrines of St Sunniva or the Seljumenn displayed on the catafalque in the chancel of the church. In this way, the terrace area would have had a similar function to a pilgrim church’s nave, and with St Sunniva’s Church located as a separate, large ‘relic shrine’ on the innermost part of the terrace (fig. 2.3, map 2.2). The development of this sanctuary before 1170 seems to have been undertaken as a means by which the cult of Selja’s saints was consolidated, and in the twelfth century first and foremost in the promotion of St Sunniva as the main figure in the legend and cult. The construction of the sanctuary thereby marked the place of martyrdom of St Sunniva and the Seljumenn, and gave them an everlasting monument, which would survive after 1170. This seemingly whitewashed terrace was a constant eye-catching reminder of the saints that could be seen even from the treacherous shipping lanes towards the west, highlighting the terrace’s symbolic effect.24 The sanctuary would forever stand as a symbol and a reminder of the commonly known truth: that Selja was the place of martyrdom of the holy virgin and queen who was by then resting in the cathedral in Bergen. In this way, the magnificent terrace, together with the rock shelter and the rest of the sanctuary, played an important role in the creation of the identity and memory of St Sunniva and the Seljumenn, both before and after 1170. In pilgrim towns such as Niðarós in Norway and Durham in England the magnificent architecture of pilgrim churches formed sanctuaries and liturgical sites, thus giving their saints their identities and memorials. At Selja, the expression of the sanctuary was not in this traditional form. In this place the Benedictines could create a sanctuary and liturgical site in tandem with nature and effectively with God’s own architecture.

24 

In winter with snow the terrace would not be so eye-catching. But long periods of snow would not be usual along the Norwegian coastline.

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St Alban and the Benedictine Monastery before 1170 As already mentioned, we know virtually nothing about the original Bene­ dictine monastic complex at Selja, which probably would have been associated with the late eleventh-century basilica that was later incorporated into the monastic church (fig. 2.4, map 2.2). The complete western gable wall of the basilica still stands as part of the tower added in the twelfth century. The basilica, according to Nybø, was modelled on the cathedral in Bergen, which in turn was probably influenced by early Anglo-Norman architecture.25 Nybø thinks that the basilica can be identified as the cathedral at Selja, and that after (or perhaps even before) the episcopal see was moved to Bergen, the basilica also functioned as the Benedictine monastic church. No archaeo­logical traces of the original monastic buildings connected to the church have been found. It can be assumed, however, that these buildings were located to the south of the basilica and probably were mainly made of wood, even though, as already mentioned, some parts may have been executed in stone as early as the twelfth century.26 Since the monastery was not dedicated to the saints of Selja, but rather to the English St Alban, it seems reasonable to conclude that the monastery was founded by English Benedictines, as suggested by the Anglo-Norman influence evident in the masonry of the original basilica.27 St Alban’s head reliquary was venerated in the abbey church.28 The presence of an important relic of St Alban, a prominent saint in England, points to the significance of any church receiving such a relic, especially the saint’s head. The dedication inspired the archaeo­ logist Nicolay Nicholaysen to suggest in 1892 that St Alban’s Abbey at Selja was founded from St Alban’s Abbey in Hertfordshire to the north of London.29 25 

Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, pp. 158–59, 192–94. Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, pp. 156–57. 27  Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, p. 204. 28  The veneration and existence of St Alban’s relic at Selja seems to have led to some problems of explanation regarding the Selja legend. According to Oddr Snorrason’s version, originally from c. 1200, St Alban was the brother of St Sunniva and was found unscathed together with her, Rindal, ed., Selja — heilag stad i 1000 år, pp. 309–10. The fourteenth-century legend version found in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta, however, doubts this and says that Alban therefore is not included in the version of the legend. However, the version relates that at Selja ‘the head of the Alban killed in England [is] venerated with much glory. At the church dedicated to Alban there is a Benedictine monastery’, Rindal, ed., Selja — heilag stad i 1000 år, pp. 327–28. 29  Nicolaysen, Om ruinerne paa Selje, p. 7. 26 

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This suggestion seems reasonable, although cannot be proved, as argued by Nybø.30 According to the English historian, Lionel Green, however, the relic of St Alban was taken from Ely in England to join the relics of the saints of Selja, but Green provided no evidence for his claim. Nor did he mention the Benedictines, but it must be supposed that he thought that the monastery was founded from Ely as a part of the translation of the relic of St Alban, as he states that this happened ‘soon after 1067’. This implies that he surmised the Benedictine monastery at Selja was founded by King Óláfr kyrri (1067–93).31 The historian Erik Gunnes, however, does not link the monks at Selja with any particular English Benedictine monastery, but he thinks they came from East Anglia or surrounding areas.32 According to the Danish historian, Tore Nyberg, there seems to have been a change, at least in Scandinavia, after the murder of King Knud (Canute) of Denmark in 1086, towards more royal support for the Benedictine rule.33 Before that, Scandinavian kings had been more engaged in establishing episcopal sees and cathedrals than monasteries. But when the cult of St Knud developed in the 1090s, Anglo-Saxon monks were given the responsibility of guarding the cult, even though it is not known if the Benedictines were summoned or if they were refugees from Anglo-Norman England. It has been supposed that the Benedictines in Odense came from Evesham.34 According to Nyberg, Odense seems to have been the first royal monastic foundation in Scandinavia and he thinks that Odense may have functioned as a model for other foundations.35 Unfortunately Nyberg was not familiar with Nybø’s work on the abbey church at Selja. It is interesting to note that both in Odense and in Selja the veneration of saints involved a combination of St Alban and local saints, St Knud in Odense and the Seljumenn with St Sunniva at Selja. In Odense the king-in-waiting and future saint, Knud (1080–86) had a relic of St Alban brought from England c. 1075.36 Before becoming king, Knud was exiled for a period in Norway, and 30 

Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, pp. 195–96. Green, ‘Building St Cuthbert’s Shrine’, p. 16. 32  Gunnes, ‘Ordener og klostre i norsk samfunnsliv’, pp. 134–35. 33  Nyberg, ‘De benediktinske klostergrundlæggelser i Norden’, pp. 22–24. 34  Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, p. 39. 35  Nyberg, ‘De benediktinske klostergrundlæggelser i Norden’, p. 23; Ommundsen, ‘To kongar, to dronningar og eit nonnekloster i Bergen’, p. 20. 36  Dehn-Nielsen, ‘Kirker og Klostre i Danmark’, p. 248. 31 

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he was the brother-in-law of King Óláfr kyrri, indicating connections between Knud and Óláfr and perhaps between Odense and Selja.37 According to the sagas King Óláfr (III) kyrri founded the first episcopal sees and cathedrals in Norway, and it is generally accepted that Óláfr established the episcopal seat at Selja c. 1070. He initiated the building of the cathedral in Bergen, and may have been involved in moving the see from Selja to Bergen.38 It is noteworthy that a coin minted for King Óláfr kyrri was discovered during the archaeo­logical excavations in the sanctuary at Selja in 1991, on the innermost part of the terrace, where the late eleventh-century church was built. This find strengthens the case for the development of the sanctuary and its cult being linked to the establishment of the episcopal see at Selja. As such, the King Óláfr kyrri coin would support the theory that the cult and sanctuary was one of the main reasons for locating the first cathedral of the bishop of West Norway at Selja.39 At the time of the foundation of an episcopal see on the holy island, it would seem that the association between the Selja cult and the bishop’s see was intended. That is why the original see was located to Selja. But the cult may have been already intended for transfer to the cathedral in Bergen, a plan that was completed by the translatio in 1170. A further issue arises as to whether the Benedictine monastery at Selja was founded before the episcopal see was moved c. 1090, and whether the bishop also functioned as the abbot. This was the model in some English monastic cathedrals such as Durham, as well as in Odense from the 1090s onwards, probably 1095–96.40 An indication that this arrangement existed at Selja is implied by the fact that the bishop of Bergen in the later Middle Ages seems to have held some authority over the Benedictine abbot and monastery at Selja.41

37 

Gunnes, ‘Ordener og klostre i norsk samfunnsliv’, p. 135. Helle, ‘Det første bispedømmet på Vestlandet’, pp. 243–45; Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, pp. 162–65; Ommundsen, ‘Ei heilag jomfru til bispesetet’, pp. 38–39. 39  Hommedal, ‘Bakgrunnen for helgenanlegget på Selja’, pp. 72–73; Hommedal, ‘A Holy Cave and Womb’, pp. 74, 77. 40  Lidén, ‘Middelalderens steinarkitektur i Norge’, p. 14; Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, pp. 194–96; Nyberg, ‘De benediktinske klostergrundlæggelser i Norden’, p. 23. 41  A bishop’s letter, probably from 1338, instructs the parish priest in Selja to order Abbot John Endridsson and the monk Erlend Josteinsson to present themselves to the bishop within a fortnight (Diplomatarium Norvegicum, ed. by Lange, vii, no. 156). See also the appeal of 1497 discussed later in this paper. The appeal seems to explain that the bishop of Bergen had some form of supremacy and the right to act against the abbot and convent at Selja. 38 

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If Selja originally had a bishop-abbot, the Benedictine monastery on the island consequently must have been established before c. 1090 since the see had moved by then to Bergen. If so, the Benedictine monastery at Selja would have been founded before the monastery in Odense, a foundation that probably took place in 1095–96. This is also absolutely possible. The need for the Benedictines to act as custodians and devotees of the cult of a local saint became apparent in Odense with King Knud’s murder in 1086. At Selja, however, the process of developing a local cult, including the building of the sanctuary, had then existed for decades. The first royal monastic foundation in Scandinavia may then have been Selja and not Odense, as Nyberg has suggested. Nyberg’s conclusion about the primacy of Odense is also related to his suggestion that the Benedictine monastery at Selja was founded by the bishop and not the king.42 It seems probable, however, that Selja was a royal foundation. According to a late fifteenth-century appeal to the pope, discussed later in more detail, the monastery at Selja was founded by the king of Norway,43 and if this is correct, the more likely founder was King Óláfr kyrri (1067–93) and not his son King Magnús berfættr (1093–1103). If Anglo-Saxon Benedictine monks were seeking refuge in Denmark in the period after the Norman invasion of England in 1066, they could surely also have done so in Norway. Selja would have been an obvious point of arrival, since there is a possibility that some Benedictines were stationed there as missionaries before the foundation of the monastery, promoting veneration and administering the emerging cult with its sanctuary.44 The Benedictine monks at Selja must have been the main actors in the process of fusing St Sunniva and the Seljumenn into the Selja cult, maybe before and surely after the founding of St Alban’s Abbey, a common feature in the founding of Benedictine monasteries.45

42 

Nyberg, ‘De benediktinske klostergrundlæggelser i Norden’, pp. 18, 25. Diplomatarium Norvegicum, ed. by Lange, xvii, no. 767; Ugulen, ‘Klosteret på Selja i seinmellomalderen’, p. 59. When under 1497 it is related that the monastery was founded by the king of Norway (‘monasterium, quod tunc per regem Noruegie magnifice fundatum fuit’) this may only be a formulaic phrase, but it may also be based on genuine information, e.g. a letter of foundation then known but now lost. Corresponding late medi­e val evidence that the Benedictine nunnery in Bergen was a royal foundation is discussed and found reliable, see Ommundsen, ‘To kongar, to dronningar og eit nonnekloster i Bergen’, p. 21. 44  Lange, De norske Klostres Historie i Middelalderen, p. 344, thinks that there were Benedictines at Selja before the monastery was founded. 45  See e.g. Ommundsen, ‘To kongar, to dronningar og eit nonnekloster i Bergen’, p. 21. 43 

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Selja and Bergen after 1170 When the relic of St Sunniva was transferred to Bergen at the beginning of September 1170, this must have made a huge difference to Selja both formally and in practice. Until then, the Benedictines on this holy island were the guardians of the relics and seem to have been in charge of the development of the cult. After the translatio on 7 September 1170, Bergen became the principal site for the guarding and veneration of the primary relic within the cult, and as such also of the development of the cult (map 2.1). Even though the holy bones of the Seljumenn and St Alban’s head relic remained on Selja, thus allowing for some continuity at the cult’s original site, the loss to Selja of its primary relic must have been striking. Selja was then presented with two options. The community either faced a period of stagnation or a period of redefining the cult and concentrating on other activities, such as the development of the Benedictines’ own monastic complex. Whether or not Selja experienced a sort of stagnation after 1170 is difficult to tell, as this cannot be determined due to the lack of material evidence surviving from this period at Selja alone. As already mentioned, some building activity, such as the construction of a cloister or chapter house in stone, may have occurred in the middle or second half of the twelfth century, as indicated by Nybø.46 We must then assume that this building activity in the monastery started after the completion of the sanctuary, and even before the translatio in 1170. It is also possible that the Benedictines in the period after the translatio were concerned with taking part in the cult’s liturgical development, which was centred then in Bergen47 After approximately one hundred years, however, in the second part of the thirteenth century, Selja experienced a new building boom, with the construction of the new and extended monastic complex in stone, which was completed before c. 1350. The old basilica in the north range was partly torn down and extended with the construction of a rectangular, aisle-less church. The church, together with the ranges, was constructed in a traditional monastic quadrangle built symmetrically around a cloister garth surrounded by alleys (fig. 2.4, map 2.2). Within the quadrangle we can also identify traditional spaces such as the sacristy, chapter house, refectory, kitchen, calefactory, a possible scriptorium, and the abbot’s lodgings. The quadrangle with its four ranges meas46  47 

Nybø, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja’, pp. 156–57. Ommundsen, ‘Ei heilag jomfru til bispesetet’, pp. 37–40.

62

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ures approximately 1404 m2 in its external dimensions and seems to have been rather small, even by Norwegian standards.48 In addition to the central quadrangle, the new buildings in the complex also comprised other structures, as already mentioned, like the guest house, stone fences, and stone paths. The construction of such a monastic complex one hundred years after 1170 demonstrates that the Benedictine community of Selja was capable of survival, even after the translatio of their principal relic, St Sunniva, from the island. This was partly due to the ongoing close connections with Bergen, and with St Sunniva as the patron saint of the town and diocese. Clear ties existed with the Benedictines in St Michael’s Abbey in Bergen, where the latter was the largest, richest, and, for the most part, strongest of the two communities. For instance, in the fourteenth century the Benedictines at Selja on several occasions elected a monk from St Michael’s as their abbot who was subsequently elected as abbot of St Michael’s.49 One of the results of the translatio in 1170 was that it provided St Sunniva with a local feast of her translatio and enshrining in Christ Church Cathedral in Bergen, commemorated on 7 September. Some years later, there are references to offerings being made at St Sunniva’s shrine, and even of pilgrims coming to Bergen.50 Despite this, no special liturgy seems to have been developed for the new feast of the translatio to Bergen. In a dedicated officium for the main liturgical feast of the saints from Selja on 8 July, however, Sunniva is referred to several times as ‘bergensium patrona’ (the patron saint of the people from Bergen), and even as ‘patrona noruegie’ (the patron/protector of Norway).51 During the following centuries, the cult also spread from Bergen throughout Norway and to other parts of Scandinavia and northern Germany (map 2.4). The extension of the cult in the late Middle Ages was a result of the commer-

48  In five of the approximately thirty-one Norwegian monastic sites it is possible to give the scale of the quadrangle. The Cistercian abbey at Hovedøya measuring c. 2912 m2, double the size of Selja, is the largest of the Norwegian quadrangles as far as we know, while the abbey of Utstein, measuring c. 1440 m2, is closest to Selja. We must be aware however that many other Norwegian quadrangles, now unknown, may have been smaller than the one at Selja. 49  Lange, De norske Klostres Historie i Middelalderen, pp. 346–47. 50  Diplomatarium Norvegicum, ed. by Lange, viii, no. 4; Hommedal, ‘Dei heilage frå Selja’, pp. 184–90. 51  The Officium has only survived in Breviarium Nidrosiense from 1519, but the contents are much older, and may date as far back as 1200; Ommundsen, ‘The Cult of Saints in Norway’, pp. 87–89.

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Map 2.4. Sites associated with the cult of St Sunniva and the Seljumenn in the Nordic countries and northern Germany. Source: Hommedal, ‘Dei heilage frå Selja’, p. 189.

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cial contacts Bergen had with northern Norway and throughout the Hanseatic League as well as other parts of Scandinavia and Germany.52

The Settlement at Selja and the Landscape The location of the religious complex in the landscape at Selja is spectacular, not only in its setting in the ocean but also in the topo­g raphy of the island (fig. 2.1). As previously mentioned, the Benedictines may have created a particular version of sanctuary at Selja using nature and thus God’s own architecture. The very location of the sanctuary is similar to that of some other maritime monasteries and sanctuaries, such as Skellig Michael in Ireland, Iona in Scotland, Lindisfarne and St Michael’s Mount in England, and Mont Saint Michel in France. This clearly tiered layout, with a monastery at a lower level and a sanctuary behind it, at a higher position in the landscape, is, however, distinctive — not only in a Norwegian context, but also apparently rare in Europe. The historian, Yngvar Nielsen as early as 1905 was the first scholar to search for European parallels to Selja, and he suggested similarities between the first complex at Selja and, for example, the St Bernard Pass in the Alps.53 As regards topo­g raphy and location, as well as architecture and adaptation to the landscape, the Selja complex in many ways has a striking resemblance to St Benedict’s first monastery, the Benedictine motherhouse of Subiaco in the Sabine Mountains in Italy. This was first noted in 1906 by the Norwegian Professor of Art History, Lorentz Dietrichson. In Subiaco there is also a cave church with terraces in front of it, located in a narrow valley, and with a monastery below. Dietrichson found the similarity so striking that he claimed that ‘the complex [at Selja] seems to arise as an attempt to recapture the mothermonastery and its surrounding nature — just everything in a smaller scale up here in the remote, Nordic country’.54 The central idea behind the location of the Benedictine monastery at Selja, in Dietrichson’s opinion, was not the sanctuary but the topo­graphical parallel to Subiaco. According to this theory, Selja 52 

For a more comprehensive discussion, see Hommedal, ‘Dei heilage frå Selja’, pp. 183–99. Nielsen, ‘De gamle helligdomme paa Selja’, pp. 168, 181. 54  ‘Det mærkelige ved det hele Komplex er, at Situationen frembyder en saadan slaaende Lighed med Forholdene ved Benediktinernes Moderkloster, Europas ældste Kloster ved Subiaco i Sabinerbjergene, at Anlægget synes at maatte være opstaaet som et Forsøg paa at gjenfremstille Moderklostret og dets Naturomgivelser — kun alt i mindre Skala heroppe i det fjerne, nordiske Land’, Dietrichson, Vore Fædres Verk, pp. 165–68. 53 

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was the result of a Benedictine attempt to create a complex which in its topo­ graphical design was a reminder of their founder’s first monastery at Subiaco. Although the parallel is striking, I find the similarities between the two sanctuaries more likely to be the result of similar land formations than of Subiaco directly influencing Selja. Anyway, the dawn of the sanctuary at Selja is likely to pre-date the Benedictines’ arrival on the island. In addition, it is not certain that the Benedictines who inhabited Selja were necessarily familiar with the landscape of Subiaco. I doubt, therefore, that the similarity between Subiaco and Selja in its origin was intentional. General knowledge of Subiaco as a Benedictine motherhouse may however have inspired the development of the layout of the complex at Selja. Nielsen’s and Dietrichson’s attempts to find parallels to the Selja complex have not been discussed by later scholars, nor have I found any other European Benedictine complexes that show clear similarities with Selja. Another important factor in establishing a holy place at Selja was undoubtedly the strategic location of the island, just south of the treacherous stretch of sea at Stad (fig. 2.1, map 2.1). All vessels travelling along the Norwegian coast had to pass by here, and Selja was a natural haven for ships waiting for clement weather. We also know that Stad was one of the harbours for ships to and from Britain, the Faeroes, and Iceland. Selja in pre-Christian times appears to have been a hub for a greater maritime region, and to have become the focus of a cult, as well as one for communication and transport. This made the island well suited as a bridgehead in the process of Norway’s conversion to Christianity.

The Dissolution of the Ecclesiastical Settlement at Selja Nearly as mythical and mysterious as the circumstances surrounding the dawn of the sanctuary at Selja, are the events surrounding the abandonment of St Alban’s Abbey c. 1470. The dissolution took place almost exactly three hundred years after St Sunniva’s translatio, and strangely enough at a time when the saint’s cult, according to evidence of surviving icono­g raphical material (fig. 2.2), seems to have been flourishing and growing in Norway and even in Scandinavia as a whole.55 The abbey at Selja was closed down about sixty years before the Reformation of Norway. The dissolution must also have had a considerable impact on the veneration and liturgical life at the sanctuary in the final period before the Reformation. 55 

Hommedal, ‘Dei heilage frå Selja’, pp. 186–88.

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The fifteenth century was a time of decline and unrest for the Benedictines within the diocese of Bergen, as it was for the Benedictines in Europe in general. At the start of the century, the diocese had three Benedictine foundations, a monastery at Selja, and a monastery and a nunnery in Bergen. When the century ended, all three Benedictine foundations had been dissolved, and St Michael’s monastery and St Mary’s nunnery in Bergen were both taken over by the relatively new order of St Birgitta of Sweden, the Bridgettines.56 The Old Norse philo­logist, Jo Rune Ugulen57 suggested that the Bridgettines also intended to take over St Alban’s at Selja, but that they did not succeed, a possibility that is worthy of further investigation. Ugulen based his argument on evidence relating to the Benedictines at Selja in the 1420s, at the time when St Michael’s in Bergen was transferred to the new order. The last Benedictine abbot in Bergen initiated a lengthy process of turning St Michael’s into a Bridgettine abbey. After nearly twenty years, in 1425, he succeeded with support from the king and the bishop of Bergen, but against serious protests from the few Benedictine monks who were left at St Michael’s.58 According to a letter of complaint from one of these monks, who in 1423 sought refuge with the Dominicans in Bergen, the abbot of St Michael’s had knowingly neglected to take action in a case against three Benedictine monks at Selja.59 This resulted in one of the Selja monks being beheaded, another burned at the stake, while a third one was still imprisoned awaiting his sentence. As Ugulen points out, this dramatic history must be seen as a plea in a dispute and is therefore not wholly reliable. It would, however, be strange if the protesting Benedictine monk in Bergen would have invented such an account without any basis in reality, and Ugulen may be correct in regarding the death sentence by fire as a sign of an accusation of some form of heresy. The accusation directed against the abbot in Bergen also indicates that the abbot of St Michael’s continued to retain influence and authority over St Alban’s at Selja. If the Bridgettines intended to take over Selja, they also must have planned to take custody of the cult and the veneration at the sanctuary. The thesis that the Bridgettines attempted to claim St Alban’s is strengthened by events that took place some decades later, between 1450 and 1481, and 56 

Hommedal, ‘Monks, Nuns, Canons and Friars’, pp. 618–23. Ugulen, ‘Klosteret på Selja i seinmellomalderen’, pp. 57–59. 58  Gunnes, ‘The Foundation of the Brigittine Monastery of Munkeliv’, p. 115. 59  The letter of complaint is written in 1424, Diplomatarium Norvegicum, ed. by Lange, xxi, no. 299. 57 

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probably in 1455, when the Benedictine nunnery of St Mary’s in Bergen was dissolved and the buildings and estates were transferred to the Bridgettines.60 This seems to have been caused by the Bridgettines’ need for funds to rebuild St Michael’s after a fire. Such a need for funds may also have been the reason for a possible Bridgettine claim on St Alban’s at Selja in the 1420s. The transfer of St Michael’s to the new order required a fundamental restructuring of the monastic complex in the 1420s, as the Bridgettines used a double convent system, for nuns and priest-monks. A fully developed abbey, as the Bergen convent seems to have been, would have housed eighty-five people.61 The Bridgettine abbey in Bergen was quite large by Norwegian standards. The Bridgettines would have regarded themselves as heirs to the Benedictines at St Michael’s, once the biggest and most powerful of the three Benedictine abbeys in the diocese of Bergen. This may have led them to wielding some authority over the two other Benedictine foundations, both clearly in decline in the fifteenth century. The main Bridgettine abbey of St Michael’s, with its endless need of funds, may then have caused all three Benedictine abbeys within the Bergen diocese to be dissolved in the fifteenth century, while the Benedictine foundations within the other Norwegian dioceses survived until the Reformation in the 1530s. St Alban’s at Selja seems to have survived a possible first claim from the Bridgettines in Bergen, as Abbot Hákon of Selja is mentioned both in 1451 and 1460, presuming that he was the same man. Since Hákon is referred to as abbot, the monastery possibly continued to function as an abbey to this point. It might be assumed that there still were enough monks to require an abbot, but since the monastery was dissolved within the next thirteen years, sometime between 1461 and 1474, this suggestion is not conclusive.62 According to an appeal to the pope in 1497, the Benedictine abbot and monks at Selja were banished by their superior, the bishop of Bergen, when the monastery was dissolved in the 1460s or early 1470s.63 It seems that the Benedictines left and never returned to Selja. A secular priest was sent to govern the monastery and its estates, and no Benedictine monks were present at Selja at that time. Since

60  Ommundsen, ‘Nonneseter i Bergen — eit benediktinarkloster’, pp. 550, 570–71; Hom­ medal, ‘Monks, Nuns, Canons and Friars’, p. 622. 61  Hommedal, ‘Monks, Nuns, Canons and Friars’, p. 618. 62  Ugulen, ‘Klosteret på Selja i seinmellomalderen’, pp. 59–60. 63  Diplomatarium Norvegicum, ed. by Lange, xvii, no. 767; Ugulen, ‘Klosteret på Selja i sein­mellomalderen’, pp. 59–60.

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the Bridgettines are not mentioned in the appeal in 1497, we must suppose that they did not take over the monastery at Selja when it was dissolved. Following the appeal in 1497 the ties between Bergen and Selja seem to have weakened, and Selja’s focus turned towards the north, to Niðarós (Trondheim). The king and the abbot of the Benedictine St Lawrence’s Abbey (Niðarhólmr) near Trondheim (map 2.3)64 appealed to Pope Alexander VI to incorporate the monastery at Selja, with its estates, into St Lawrence’s. Hence, the Benedictines were allowed to return to Selja with monks and an abbot subordinate to the abbot of St Lawrence’s.65 The appeal was approved, but it is not known if it was implemented. In any case, the last documented activity took place at Selja in 1522, before the Reformation, and this seems to have been secular and involved the king’s governor in Bergen. The Selja estates were transferred finally to a hospital institution in Bergen after the Reformation. The abandonment of the Benedictine abbey at Selja in the late fifteenth century, at a time when the cult of St Sunniva was strong and growing,66 must indicate that the veneration of St Sunniva three hundred years after her translatio was more or less identified with Bergen and was only distantly associated with the saint’s original sanctuary at Selja. An indication of this distant relationship is understood from the appeal to the pope, where the monastery at Selja is called ‘Monasterij sanctorum de Selio’ (the monastery of the holy [men] at Selja) and is not related to St Sunniva.67 The identification of the sanctuary primarily with the Seljumenn, still resting at the island, was strong in 1497, since the appeal referred to the saints from Selja and not to St Alban, even though he was the real patron of the Benedictine monastery. The secular priest who was sent to Selja after the dissolution c. 1470, as his main task, must have maintained the liturgy and veneration in the sanctuary. Whether this was the situation at the time of the Reformation in 1536–37 remains unclear and in any case the ecclesiastical settlement at Selja seems to have petered out even before that stage. However, for seamen travelling along the shipping lane in these most treacherous of navigable waters along the entire Norwegian coast, a glimpse 64 

St Lawrence’s Abbey was at this time the only Norwegian Benedictine male house, along with three Benedictine nunneries. 65  Diplomatarium Norvegicum, ed. by Lange, xvii, no. 767; Ugulen, ‘Klosteret på Selja i seinmellomalderen’, pp. 59–60. 66  Hommedal, ‘Dei heilage frå Selja’, pp. 186–88. 67  Diplomatarium Norvegicum, ed. by Lange, xvii, no. 767; Ugulen, ‘Klosteret på Selja i seinmellomalderen’, p. 59.

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of the holy island of Selja and a prayer seeking the protection of the island’s saints would continue to provide comfort on their journey (fig. 2.1, map 2.1). Maybe that is one reason why as late as 1811, numerous small, roughly made pine crosses were found inserted into the rubble of the sanctuary ruins, and interpreted as post-Reformation votive gifts to St Sunniva and the Seljumenn.68

Conclusion The ecclesiastical settlement on the island of Selja demonstrates how the emerging cult of a saint could influence the location of an episcopal see and a Benedictine monastery in early Christian Norway, and how the interaction between the developing sanctuary, the bishop, and the Benedictines could create and strengthen a cult with its own identity and memory. The cult of St Sunniva and the Seljumenn, in my opinion, may have its origins in the discovery of Iron Age human bones of people who had lived in the caves during the sixth century ad, bones which had been discovered during the Viking Age (800–1000), probably sometime c. 1000. The inner edge of the sanctuary’s present terrace, with a church dedicated to the Seljumenn and later to St Sunniva, seems to have been erected as a part of the process of creating an identity for a newly established episcopal see at Selja in the reign of King Óláfr kyrri (1067–93). The king may have called upon English Benedictines to found a monastery, bringing their own, distinguished relic of St Alban with them. The Benedictines must have been the main actors in developing the Selja cult with its sanctuary, legend, and liturgy, until the fictional St Sunniva, as the leading saint of the cult, was translated to Bergen in 1170. This translation completed the identification of the episcopal see with the Selja cult, and especially with St Sunniva. The Benedictines continued through the following centuries to be the guardians of the cult located at Selja. For a period of about a hundred years after c. 1250 they also concentrated on developing a new monastic building complex. The fifteenth century, however, seems to have been a period of decline at Selja. When the Benedictines left the island c. 1470, after approximately four hundred years of monastic life and the cultivation of the cult of saints, the custody of the cult was probably taken over by a secular priest. By then, Bergen had become the focal centre of the cult, which continued to flourish until it came to an official end with Lutheran Reformation in the 1530s.

68 

Hommedal, ‘Dei heilage frå Selja’, pp. 194–95.

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Works Cited Primary Sources Adam of Bremen, History of the Archbishops of Hamburg-Bremen (Gesta Hammaburgensis Ecclesiae Pontificium), trans. by Francis Joseph Tschan (New York: Columbia Uni­ ver­sity Press, 1959) ‘Den latinska Sunnivalegenden: en edition’, ed. by Stephan Borgehammar, in In Selja: Heilig stad i 1000 år., ed. by Magnus Rindal (Oslo: Universitetsforlag, 1997), pp. 270–92 Diplomatarium Norvegicum, ed. by Christian C. A. Lange and others, 23 vols (Kristiania/ Oslo, 1847–2011)

Secondary Works Andersen, Ivan Normann, ‘Klostre og helgenkult i tidlig middelalder’, in Tidlige klostre i Norden før 1200: Et symposium, ed.  by Lars Bisgaard and Tore Nyberg (Odense: Syddansk Universitetsforlag, 2006), pp. 97–116 Borgehammar, Stephan, ‘Sunnivalegenden och den benediktinska reformen i England’, in Selja: Heilag stad i 1000 år, ed. by Magnus Rindal (Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1997), pp. 123–59 Dehn-Nielsen, Henning, Kirker og Klostre i Danmark (Viborg: Sesam, 2002) Dietrichson, Lorentz, Vore Fædres Verk: Norges Kunst i Middelalderen (Kristiania: Gylden­ dalske boghandel nordisk forlag, 1906) Enger, Cato, ‘Helligdommen på Selja’, Foreningen til norske fortidsminnesmerkers bevaring: Årsberetning for 1946, 102 (1949), 5–48 Green, Lionel, Building St  Cuthbert’s Shrine: Durham Cathedral and the Life of Prior Turgot (Durham: Sacristy, 2013) Gunnes, Erik, ‘Klosterliv i Norge. Tilblivelse — økonomi — avvikling’, Foreningen til norske fortidsminnesmerkers bevaring: Årbok 1987, 141 (1987), 49–84 —— , ‘The Foundation of the Brigittine Monastery of Munkeliv, and its Struggle for Existence’, Collegium Medi­evale, 3 (1990), 111–22 —— , ‘Ordener og klostre i norsk samfunnsliv’, Collegium Medi­evale, 8 (1996), 131–45 Haug, Eldbjørg, ‘Noen refleksjoner etter arbeidet med Utstein klosters historie’, in Den kirkehistoriske utfordring, ed. by Steinar Imsen (Trondheim: Tapir akademisk forlag, 2005), pp. 91–114 Helle, Knut, Bergen bys historie, i: Kongssete og kjøpstad: Fra opphavet til 1536 (Bergen: Universitetsforlaget, 1982) —— , ‘Det første bispedømmet på Vestlandet’, in Selja: Heilag stad i 1000 år, ed.  by Magnus Rindal (Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1997), pp. 240–51 Hommedal, Alf Tore, ‘Bakgrunnen for helgenanlegget på Selja og staden si rolle i den tidlege kristninga av Vest-Noreg’, in Selja: Heilag stad i 1000 år, ed. by Magnus Rindal (Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1997), pp. 43–76

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—— , ‘Dei heilage frå Selja. Vurdering av kulten rundt St  Sunniva og Seljumennene og Selja si rolle som pilegrimsmål i mellomalderen’, in Selja: Heilag stad i 1000 år, ed. by Magnus Rindal (Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1997), pp. 183–99 —— , ‘Kva fortel bygningsrestane av dei norske klostra om kontinental norm og norsk praksis innan ordensliva?’, in Norm og praksis i middelaldersamfunnet, ed. by Else Mundal and Ingvild Øye, Kulturtekster, 14, SEK Senter for Europeiske Kulturstudier, Uni­ versitetet i Bergen (Bergen: Senter for Europeiske Kulturstudier, 1999), pp. 149–83 —— , ‘Monks, Nuns, Canons and Friars in Medi­eval Bergen’, in Lübecker Kolloquium zur Stadtarchäo­logie im Hanseraum, ix: Die Klöster, ed. by Manfred Gläser and Manfred Schneider (Lübeck: Schmidt-Römhild, 2014), pp. 613–28 —— , ‘A Holy Cave and Womb: The Sanctuary on the Island of Selja and the Birth of the First Norwegian Saints’, in Caves and Ritual in Medi­eval Europe, ad 500–1500, ed. by Knut Andreas Bergsvik and Marion Dowd (Oxford: Oxbow, 2018), pp. 63–84 Lange, Christian C. A., De norske Klostres Historie i Middelalderen, 2nd edn (Kristiania: C. Tønsberg, 1856) Lidén, Hans-Emil, ‘Middelalderens steinarkitektur i Norge’, in Norges kunsthistorie, ii: Høymiddelalder og hansa-tid, ed. by Hans-Emil Lidén and others (Oslo: Gyldendal Norsk Forlag, 1981), pp. 7–125 Mundal, Else, ‘Legender, helgenkult og misjonsstrategi i kristningstida’, in Selja: Heilag stad i 1000 år, ed. by Magnus Rindal (Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1997), pp. 77–101 Nicolaysen, Nicholay, Om ruinerne paa Selje (Kristiania: Foreningen til Norske Fortids­ mindesmærkers bevaring, 1892) Nielsen, Yngvar, ‘De gamle helligdomme paa Selja’, in Historiske Afhandlinger tilegnet Professor Dr J. E. Sars paa hans syttiende fødselsdag den ellevte oktober 1905 af Venner og Disciple (Kristiania: Aschehoug, 1905), pp. 164–81 Nyberg, Tore, ‘De benediktinske klostergrundlæggelser i Norden’, in Tidlige klostre i Nor­ den før 1200: Et symposium, ed. by Lars Bisgaard and Tore Nyberg (Odense: Syd­dansk Universitetsforlag, 2006), pp. 13–30 Nybø, Marit, ‘Albanuskirken på Selja. Klosterkirke eller bispekirke?’, 2 vols (unpublished doctoral thesis, Uni­ver­sity of Bergen, 2000) O’Hara, Alexander, ‘Constructing a Saint: The Legend of St  Sunniva in the TwelfthCentury Norway’, Viking and Medi­eval Scandinavia, 5 (2009), 105–21 Ommundsen, Åslaug, ‘The Cult of Saints in Norway before 1200’, in Saints and their Lives on the Periphery: Veneration of Saints in Scandinavia and Eastern Europe (c. 1000–1200), ed. by Haki Antonsson and Ildar H. Garipzanov (Turnhout: Brepols, 2010), pp. 67–93 —— , ‘Nonneseter i Bergen — eit benediktinarkloster’, (Norsk) Historisk Tidsskrift, 89 (2010), 547–71 —— , ‘Ei heilag jomfru til bispesetet — Sankta Sunniva og Bergen i mellomalderen’, in Fra kongssete til kuturminne: Håkonshallen og Bergenshus-området g jennom 750 år, ed. by Anne Ågotnes and Ingvild Øye (Bergen: John Grieg Forlag, 2011), pp. 30–45 —— , ‘To kongar, to dronningar og eit nonnekloster i Bergen’, (Norsk) Historisk Tidsskrift, 95 (2016), 7–33

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Rindal, Magnus, ed., Selja: Heilag stad i 1000 år (Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1997) Ugulen, Jo Rune, ‘Klosteret på Selja i seinmellomalderen’, in En prisverdig historiker: Festskrift til Gunnar I. Pettersen, ed. Åslaug Ommundsen, Erik Opsahl, and Jo Rune Ugulen, Riksarkivaren, Skriftserie, 41 (Copen­hagen: Riksarkivaren, 2014), pp. 55–63

Monasticism, Lordship, and State‑Building in Twelfth-Century Cumbria Richard Thomason1

I

n the twelfth century Cumbria was a frontier zone.2 The region’s geo­ graphical position on the northern periphery of the new Anglo-Norman kingdom, and to the south-west of the emergent Scottish monarchy, meant that it was the setting of a sustained struggle for hegemony. Within the period of a single century, it was annexed three times: William II of England claimed the city of Carlisle in 1092 and populated the region with peasant settlers;3 during Stephen’s troubled reign David I of Scotland claimed Cumbria as part of his Scoto-Northumbrian realm; and in 1157 Henry II regained sovereignty over the border counties from Malcolm IV of Scotland when the latter performed fealty for them at Chester. Each wave of conquest saw a shift in the make-up of the region’s socio-political community, as victors sought to stabilize their position in their new domains. 1 

This chapter is based on research carried out for the MA in History course at Lancaster Uni­ver­sity from 2010 to 2011, which resulted in an unpublished dissertation entitled ‘Monasticism in Twelfth-Century Cumbria: Lordship, State-Building, and Socio-Political Identity’. I would like to express my gratitude to Prof. Keith J. Stringer for his advice and guidance throughout my studies at Lancaster. 2  The term ‘Cumbria’ is used here to denote the area covered by the modern county, comprised of the pre-1974 counties of Cumberland, Westmorland, and Lancashire North-of-theSands. 3  The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, ed. and trans. by Garmondsway, sub anno 1092. Richard Thomason ([email protected]) is Honorary Research Fellow in the Department for Classical & Archaeo­logical Studies, Uni­ver­sity of Kent. He has previously worked for the Leeds International Medi­eval Congress, and held the position of Lecturer in Latin at the Uni­ ver­sity of Kent. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 73–102 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117259

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Despite violent episodes and dramatic reversals, Cumbria’s history in this period is no monotonous record of military raids and fragile claims to lordship. The region saw the introduction of a tenurial system on recognizably Anglo-Norman lines, secular administrators produced ever more documentation as reliance on the written record increased, and increasingly systematic governmental practices were established.4 Alongside changes in lay society, the Church’s reformist ideals reached Cumbria in the wake of Anglo-Norman expansion and made a lasting home there.5 It is the circumstances and consequences of this latter development that are examined here, with reference to the politics and patronage of Cumbria’s religious foundations, in line with similar topics of local politics and religious patronage being discussed throughout this volume. While study of monastic socio-political networks is well established, there is less opportunity (in Britain at least) to assess their place within polities experiencing conquest.6 Cumbria in this respect forms a perfect setting, but the region’s religious institutions have rarely been investigated despite a strong corpus of documentation.7 The issue at hand has been recognized, and Rose, in his discussion of the ecclesiastical resettlement of Cumbria, leaves it so: The restoration of monasticism under the Normans was welcomed by Cumbrian society, but that society remained keenly aware of the diverse influences in its own make-up. […]  The fact that the Anglo-Norman church accepted these [Celtic] saints helped to integrate the area into the Anglo-Norman kingdom by transforming a ‘national’ identity into a ‘local’ identity, and the creation of a new diocese helped to enforce the idea of a new ‘border’ and to orientate the district towards the south and east.8 4 

See Sharpe, Norman Rule in Cumbria; Doherty, ‘Robert de Vaux and Roger de Stuteville’, pp. 65–102; Doherty, ‘King Henry II’s Charter’, pp. 87–122. 5  A fluid account of Cumberland in this period remaining valid despite its age is Wilson, ‘Ecclesiastical History’, pp. 1–22. 6  Studies of monastic patronage in Britain: Cownie, The Religious Patronage of the AngloNorman Aristocracy; Burton, The Monastic Order in Yorkshire; Jamroziak, Rievaulx Abbey and its Social Context. For conflict and adversity, see Jamroziak, Survival and Success, esp. pp. 167–96. 7  The most significant recent works are Stringer, ‘Reform Monasticism and Celtic Scotland’; Jamroziak, ‘Holm Cultram Abbey’. Broader discussion of the Church’s resettlement in ‘Middle Britain’ may be found in Stringer, The Reformed Church in Medi­eval Galloway and Cumbria. 8  Rose, ‘Cumbrian Society and the Anglo-Norman Church’, pp. 127–30; quotation at pp. 134–35.

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Rose’s study takes in the broad sweep of ecclesiastical settlement, and considers episcopal institutions, saints’ cults, and also looks briefly at monastic institutions. However, the relationship between Cumbria’s turbulent history and its religious enterprise is left tantalizingly open. Accordingly, this paper looks closely at the processes by which this integration occurred and thus facilitated Cumbria’s incorporation into a sovereign polity. Discussion begins with a survey of religious foundations of Cumbria during the course of the twelfth century and sets them against the backdrop of conflict between the kings of England and Scotland, ending with Lanercost in the 1160s. Then, the formation and development of religious communities’ socio-political networks is explored at an individual and local level with reference to St Bees, a house that experienced first-hand the political reversals of the period. The final section addresses how religious houses formed networks reaching beyond secular political structures, and thus promoted social cohesion.

Religious Foundations in the Cumbrian Borderland: The Anglo-Norman Foundations The practicalities of power in the twelfth century dictated that a ruler enforce his will and protect his subjects, and the system of land-tenure was dominated by enfeoffment to this end. But the northern frontier was not simply a military dictatorship and after conquest came settlement, a striking symbol of which was the introduction of regular clergy. For Cumbria, the history of the religious provides a clear index of the shifts in political settlement through the decades. The first monastic foundations were established during the reign of Henry I, whose policy towards his northern borders was one of consolidation rather than outward expansion.9 Henry, for example, took Carlisle into his own hand, developing it from a potestas into a civitas after the departure in c. 1122 of his chief agent there, Ranulf Meschin, and rectified the region’s ecclesiastical deficiency by establishing the see of Carlisle in 1133.10 Henry founded a community of Augustinian canons at St Mary’s, Carlisle, which later became the cathedral priory.11 Before implementing his ecclesiastical policy, Henry had been involved with his tenants’ religious foundations, such as with Ranulf 9 

For all these themes, Sharpe, Norman Rule in Cumbria is essential reading ; Green, ‘King Henry I and Northern England’, pp. 45–46, 53–55. 10  For recent discussion of the dating see Sharpe, Norman Rule in Cumbria, pp. 60–61. 11  Summerson, Medi­eval Carlisle, pp. 30–38; Wilson, ‘Ecclesiastical History’, ii, 8, 131.

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Meschin who founded the Benedictine priory of Wetheral as a daughter house of St Mary’s, York (1101 × 1106).12 Henry issued four confirmations to the monks, indicating the successive provisional stages of foundation and his oversight of them.13 As though not to be outdone by his elder brother, William Meschin, lord of Copeland, founded the priory of St Bees, also affiliated to St  Mary’s, York. 14 In all these foundations Archbishop Thurstan of York (d. 1140) can be detected as a guiding hand, the figure who, despite his age, would go on to rally the English muster to defeat the Scots at the Battle of the Standard in 1138.15 A good illustration of the relationship between trajectory of expansion and religious life is the Cistercian abbey of Furness. Furness Abbey was founded as a Savigniac community in 1124 at Tulketh, near Preston in Lancashire, by Stephen, count of Mortain, Henry I’s most exalted magnate who later became king of England.16 In 1127, the community relocated to Furness, with Stephen’s grants being confirmed by Henry I while he was in distant Rouen in September 1127.17 Stephen confirmed his own grants (made while still count) between June and August 1136, for the soul of Henry I as well as for the welfare of his kingdom.18 It was made during his ostentatious display of martial power and political support at the siege of Exeter in the beginning of his reign, when he still enjoyed the support of Earl Robert of Gloucester and David of Scotland, who later became his chief antagonists. It is telling that, as Stephen was drawn increasingly south by his role in the realm’s politics, the monks of his foundation reached further north and tightened their hold on the Barrow peninsula. The religious foundations of this period were indicative of the territorial ambitions of their patrons. The wealth and influence that supported them came from the south, either from the see at York, or from magnates and royalty whose powerbase lay in the cross-channel polity established since the Norman Conquest. Archbishop Thurstan’s projection of York’s interests into Cumbria, 12 

Sharpe, ‘Norman Rule’, pp. 47–52. The Register of the Priory of Wetherhal, ed. by Prescott, nos 5, 7, 8, 9. 14  Discussed in Section 2 below. 15  Aelred of Rievaulx, Relatio de standardo, ed. by Howlett, p. 182. 16  Burton, ‘Furness, Savigny’; A History of the County of Lancashire, ed. by Farrer and Brownbill, pp. 113–41; King, King Stephen, pp. 23–24. 17  Regesta regum Anglo-Normannorum, ed. by Davis, p. 217, nos. 1545–47. 18  ‘Pro anima regis Henrici Domini et avunculi mei  […] et pro stabilitate regni mei’, Regesta regum Anglo-Normannorum, ed. by Davis, iii, 127, no. 337. 13 

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either by metropolitan privilege (for Carlisle), or by affiliation (Wetheral and St Bees) lent a sense of shared ecclesiastical identity, while the lay patrons were either royalty or magnates with vested interest in upholding the claim of the English Crown. Cumbrian monasticism in the first half of the twelfth century, then, was essentially an Anglo-Norman affair and proof of the dominance of the Norman monarchs in the region.

Cumbrian Foundations and the New Scoto-Northumbrian Realm King David invaded the northern counties early in Stephen’s reign. 19 The accompanying violence shocked ecclesiastical commentators, and Richard of Hexham’s account of the Gallovidians’ acts of slave-raiding and infanticide makes grisly reading.20 The Scots’ activities certainly exacted a toll on the religious, the most severe case being Calder Abbey.21 The community, founded only in 1134–35, did not have time to establish itself before being devastated by the Scots, and so the monks departed for Yorkshire, eventually settling at Byland. Ranulf Meschin, William Meschin’s son and Calder’s founder and patron, likewise disappears from record at this time.22 It is likely that there was a political basis for Calder’s devastation. The monks had been drawn from Furness, a foundation of King Stephen against whom David was making war, and the abbey was established at a time when Stephen was in the ascendant, so the community could have been associated with him.23 Seen in this light, the ruin of Calder was both a symbolic blow against Stephen’s lordship in the north, and a statement that any new foundations in the vicinity should be made by grant of the new sovereign power, David. This interpretation gains strength by considering that Calder was re-founded in c. 1143 with the support of William fitz

19 

For in-depth discussion of David’s policy and ambitions in ‘Middle-Britain’, see Stringer, ‘State-Building in Twelfth-Century Britain’. 20  Richard of Hexham, De gestis regis Stephani, ed. by Howlett, p. 152. 21  The Foundation History of the Abbeys of Byland and Jervaulx, ed. and trans. by Burton, pp. 1–2. A partial reconstruction of the community’s estates after the site was resettled in c. 1143 can be found in Thorley, ‘The Estates of Calder Abbey’, pp. 133–38. 22  This Ranulf had the same name as William Meschin’s older brother, founder of Wetheral. Early Yorkshire Charters, vii: The Honour of Skipton, ed. by Clay, p. 7. 23  Burton, ‘Citadels of God’, pp. 19–20. I would go further than Burton and argue that rather than Calder simply being on the marching route of William’s army, it could have been actively sought out.

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Duncan, atoning for the earlier destruction and reiterating the pious action, which this time emanated from Scottish lordship.24 David is an important figure in the history of religious life in northern Britain. The Scots were not the barbarians inimical to religion that chroniclers initially purported them to be, and David’s piety marked the conquest of Cumbria.25 A sure expression of the Scoto-Northumbrian identity that David strove for in Middle Britain was the Cistercian abbey of Holm Cultram, founded in c. 1150, at the high-water mark of Scottish domination in Cumbria.26 The foundation was not perceived as a Scottish intrusion, and enjoyed substantial support beyond the royal court. The founder, in the sense that he initiated the scheme and provided substantial lands at the outset, was Alan son of Waltheof (fl. 1106–51), lord of Allerdale-below-Derwent (i.e. Papcastle) and prominent landholder of Northumbrian descent.27 Earl Henry of Scotland greatly supplemented Alan’s grant, and all was afterwards confirmed by King David.28 Alan was a benefactor of many religious houses, including Guisborough and Hexham Priory (both Augustinian), Holm Cultram, and St Bees.29 While Alan’s patronage was directed toward communities in areas south of the Solway-Tweed line, his lineage tied him to the Scottish royal house. Alan’s father had been earl of Northumbria, and was the cousin of Earl Cospatrick, whose daughter, Maud, was David I’s wife (who thus provided David with a strong claim to that earldom). The foundation of Holm Cultram thus united two seams of the Northumbrian comital family and symbolized the sincerity of David’s ambition to form a unified and enduring polity.

24 

Wilson, ‘Ecclesiastical History’, ii, 174–75; Thorley, ‘Estates of Calder’, pp. 135–36. Among his many works on society in the region see Barrow’s ‘Scottish Rulers and the Religious Orders’. For surveys see Duncan, Scotland, pp. 142–51; Barrell, Medi­eval Scotland, pp. 50–53. 26  Stringer, ‘State-Building in Twelfth-Century Britain’, pp. 54–57. 27  RHC [Holm Cultram Charters], pp. 117–20. The (‘so-called’) foundation charter is no. 260 in that volume. For a full-text (Latin) edition of the foundation charter, see The Charters of King David I, ed. by Barrow, no. 197; also see The Register of the Priory of Wetherhal, ed. by Prescott, Illustrative Documents, no. 24, omitted from Barrow’s list of printed editions; Rose, ‘Cumbrian Society and the Anglo-Norman Church’, p. 129. 28  RHC, nos 260 and 261. 29  The houses of which Alan was a benefactor were: Guisborough Priory, Hexham Priory, Holm Cultram, and St Bees, see RHC, p. 118. 25 

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Religious Foundation after Henry II’s Reclamation The period of Scottish hegemony was short-lived. David died in 1153, his son Henry had predeceased him, and William fitz Duncan, David’s captain in the region, died sometime between 1152 and 1154. To cement the shift, Henry II reclaimed sovereignty over Cumberland when Malcolm IV performed fealty for the county in 1157.30 For the religious this meant obtaining new confirmations of rights and liberties. Henry II visited Carlisle in June 1158 and this was probably when Wetheral and Holm Cultram received their charters.31 Holm Cultram, by virtue of its landholding in south-western Scotland, in Dumfriesshire, Kirkcudbrightshire, and Galloway, continued to look to the Scottish Crown for warranty of land they held in those locations.32 Taking an abbey into royal protection was a result of proactive behaviour on the part of the monks, who needed to secure secular backing. It also was an expression of a lord’s reach, which underpinned their sovereignty by safeguarding the pious works of those under their lordship. For Cumbrian religious houses whose holdings were located in Henry’s kingdom, they once more looked south for security. The growth of the religious orders continued, and, to affirm the commitment of the new elite, the priory of Lanercost was founded between c. 1166 and 1174 by Robert I de Vaux. Robert, situated in what was effectively a conquest territory, gave affirmation of his allegiance in the charter detailing the final foundation of the house: ‘for King Henry II and his heirs, who is the giver and guarantor of this my land’.33 Henry would have felt all the more secure knowing that the foundation represented the successful establishment of his sovereignty over an area that, not even ten years before the foundation of Lanercost had begun, had been in the control of Gill son of Bueth, a landholder from a family with deep ties to the region and who had been active in opposing Norman lordship.34 This overview serves to demonstrate a simple point, that each successive wave of conquest — Anglo-Norman, Scottish, Angevin — found an outlet for piety in religious foundations. True, the dust had to settle after military activity subsided, and monastic institutions were not on the vanguard of settlement. The foundations discussed here took time to come about, at least a decade, and 30 

The Chronicle of Melrose, ed. and trans. by Stevenson, sub anno 1157 (p. 128). The Register of the Priory of Wetherhal, ed. by Prescott, no. 6; RHC, nos 208 and 212. 32  For example, the grange of Kirkgunzeon: RHC, nos 140 and 141; Stringer, ‘Reform Monasticism’, pp. 147–50. 33  The Lanercost Cartulary, ed. by Todd, pp. 4–6. 34  Wilson, ‘Ecclesiastical History’, i, 306. 31 

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usually more. To view them in terms shorn of spirituality, religious foundations reinforced lordship, rather than facilitated its seizure, a trait that gave them prominence in any major shift within the political community. To analyse more closely the means by which religious houses established ties among its patronal networks, and specifically to see what effect conquest politics had upon a religious house, a more localized and individual look is required. In the next section, these issues are explored with special reference to the patrons of St Bees and its community of benefactors.

The Priory of St Bees: Patronage of an Honorial Monastic Community St Bees was a Benedictine priory affiliated to the abbey of St Mary’s, York, located on the coast of the westernmost headland of Cumbria.35 It had lands in the honour of Copeland, and holdings along the coast, with a few outlying estates such as Groudle Glen on the Isle of Man.36 St Bees has received scholarly attention mostly due to its patron saint, St Bega, and the importance of her hagio­graphical tradition for understanding religious culture in north-western Britain.37 The priory’s socio-political history has received little attention, but its identification with St Bega and experience of political reversal provide several insights into the connection between religious foundations and the exercise of lordship. Study of the priory is aided by a well-edited fifteenth-century register containing hundreds of deeds with their witness-lists, approximately a hundred dating to the twelfth century.38 All these factors make St Bees suitable to demonstrate in greater detail the themes of religious foundation and political formation raised previously.

St Bees and the Anglo-Norman Settlement The priory of St Bees was very much part of the northward consolidation by the Anglo-Norman lay elite. It was founded sometime between 1120 and 1135 by William Meschin (d. 1130 × 1135) who became lord of Copeland 35 

There is very little scholarly work on the priory of St Bees, the principal accounts still being The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, pp. i–xxxix; and Wilson, ‘Ecclesiastical History’, ii, 178–83. 36  The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 43, dated 1154 × 1187. 37  See Todd, ‘St Bega’; Bartlett, ‘Cults of Irish, Scottish and Welsh’, pp. 70–72; Todd, ‘The Pre-Conquest Church in St Bees’; Downham, ‘St Bega’. 38  BL, MS  Harley 434.

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Figure 3.1. The patrons of St Bees. Figure by the author.

upon his older brother Ranulf ’s departure for the earldom of Chester in c. 1120. The foundation was made in conjunction with William’s wife, Cecily de Rumilly, daughter of Robert de Rumilly, who was granted the honour of Skipton-in-Craven, perhaps by William  I (fig.  3.1).39 Patronal obligations to St Bees from foundation onward lay securely with the lords of Copeland, symbolized by its location three miles from the castle of Egremont, the caput of the honour.40 William provided the kernel of St Bees’s estates with a grant of seven carucates in Kirkby (St  Bees), which he increased by confirming the grants of his own tenants.41 Besides founding St Bees, William also supported the Augustinian priory of Embsay, his wife’s foundation,42 and the pri39  Early Yorkshire Charters, vii: The Honour of Skipton, ed. by Clay, 4–5; Sanders, English Baronies, pp. 142–43. 40  The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, p. vi. Grid references: Egremont Castle, NY 009102; St Bees Priory Church, NX 968121. 41  The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 1 states that William Meschin gave six carrucates. Either this is a mistake, and should read seven as it does in the subsequent confirmations (nos 2, 3, 5, 6), or the initial grant was subsequently enlarged. Given the large number of ‘foundation’ charters, the latter is probable: Wilson, ‘Ecclesiastical History’, p. 152. 42  Founded c. 1120. Removed to Bolton in 1155 (Early Yorkshire Charters, vii: The Honour of Skipton, ed. by Clay, p. xi), by which name it is now known. See Dugdale, Monasticon Anglicanum, ed. by Caley, Ellis, and Bandinel, vi, 201–02.

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ory of Huntingdon,43 as well as being a veteran crusader — his presence was recorded after the successful siege of Nicaea in 1097.44 Thus St Bees was given a firm place within the honour, cultivated from the beginning by a pious, dedicated, and munificent patron, who owed his position very much to the Anglo-Norman settlement of post-Conquest England. The early benefactors were primarily drawn from the honorial community, and William’s tenurial community was clearly targeted in his first deed when he granted any gifts made by his knights.45 All those gathered at the foundation of the priory church were William’s tenants except for ecclesiastics accompanying Archbishop Thurstan, and many made gifts of their own in support of their lord’s foundation. Witnesses to William Meschin’s first deeds were Rainer and Richard, knights,46 Godard of Millom his dapifer,47 Ketell (son of Eltred),48 Odard of Carlisle (the same person as Odard of Bamburgh, sheriff of Northumberland), Waltheof son of Cospatrick lord of Allerdale, and a number of priests or chaplains.49 Some benefactors were involved in the administration of the honour. Rainer and Richard’s positions are not made explicit by the St Bees deeds, but Rainer is styled ‘dapifer’ in a later confirmation given by William’s son Ranulf.50 Rainer’s identity is confirmed by William’s deed to Huntingdon Priory in 1126/27 or 1130, where Rainer is described as dapifer again.51 Dapifers enjoyed limited powers of deputy, usually on an ad hoc

43 

Early Yorkshire Charters, vii: The Honour of Skipton, ed. by Clay, no. 1. ‘Guillelmus filius Rannulfi uicecomitis’. William’s father was Ranulf de Briquessart, vicomte of Bayeaux: The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, ed. and trans. by Chibnall, pp. 58–59, and n. 2; King, ‘Ranulf (I), Third Earl of Chester (d. 1129)’. 45  The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, p. iii and no. 1. 46  Rainer gave land in Rottington: The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, nos 2, 3, 5, 6, 7. 47  Godard gave the churches of Whicham and Bootle, and given similarity in witnesses the deed was probably contemporaneous with the foundation charters: The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 76. 48  He gave land in and churches of Bromfield, Morland, and Workington, dated 1120 × 1135, see The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 212. 49  For Odard, see Sharpe, Norman Rule in Cumbria, pp. 15–18; 64 n. 177. 50  The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, nos 8–10. Richard may have been of approximate social status in the early deeds (he does not appear again); he appears linked with Rainer when attesting. See The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, nos 2 and 3. 51  Early Yorkshire Charters, vii: The Honour of Skipton, ed. by Clay, p. 50, no. 1. 44 

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basis as required by the honorial lord.52 Rainer’s grant was made in the earliest stages of foundation: a loyal servant in Skipton, he was brought to Copeland and enfeoffed there, giving of his newly received lands to support the lord who had benefited him. Other lords witnessing were from regions of importance for William’s lordship, such as Waltheof, lord of Allerdale, which abutted Copeland to the north, or Odard of Carlisle, the hub of commerce and a central urban focus for the far north-west. William and Cecily’s son Ranulf succeeded them to the honour of Copeland. While Ranulf dedicated attention to the ill-fated Calder, he did not neglect St Bees and confirmed the monks’ possessions as given by his parents’ gifts, adding the manor of Ennerdale and all his woods within the priory’s boundaries.53 Moreover, he confirmed an independent grant made by Ketell son of Eltred of the church, land, and mill of Workington as well as granting from his demesne the manor of Ennerdale.54 Ranulf was prompt in his benefactions given that he was only lord for a few years, and the founding of Calder (10 January 1134–35) evidently did not distract him from executing his duties towards St Bees as one might expect.55 By the mid-1130s, the priory of St Bees was in a comfortable position thanks to the close-knit honorial community that supported it, but it looked south for rule, not north, leaving its position uncertain when the Scots came south of the Solway.

St Bees and the Scots’ Settlement Around the time of Ranulf Meschin’s death, Cumbria experienced dramatic political change, when David I pressed his claim to the northern counties after an initial lull following the accession of Stephen to the English throne in 1135. Among the first of the territories David claimed was Cumbria. The change provides the opportunity to look in-depth at what the impact was on a religious house’s socio-political network, especially one so dependent on its place in the honour as St Bees. The monks of St Bees were fortunate in that William fitz Duncan, son of Duncan II of Scotland, David’s nephew and one of his foremost war captains, assumed the patronage when he took control of Copeland. 52 

Stenton, The First Century of English Feudalism, pp. 73–76. The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, nos 8–10. 54  The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, nos 8 and 9 for the confirmation of previous gifts; no. 4 for confirmation of Ketell’s; no. 10 for Ennerdale. 55  Sharpe, Norman Rule in Cumbria, p. 65 n. 179. 53 

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He was generous, and granted to St Bees economic boons such as pannage and monopoly of salt-pans, the vill of Hothwait and the tithes of the mill of Egremont.56 But to understand how an incoming lord inserted himself into a socio-political network that he had himself recently ruptured, his relation to the existing community of benefactors needs investigation. A highly illustrative example of William’s policy is provided by Godard of Millom, mentioned above, who had martial duties in the honour and was himself a substantial benefactor to St Bees. Godard of Millom, William Meschin’s dapifer and later sheriff, is described in the life of St Bega as one ‘qui munitionem custodiebat in Eggremonte’ (who guarded the armaments in Egremont).57 From this it is clear that he was also castellan and had military duties in support of his lord, which gave him influence within the honorial hierarchy. He was therefore a figure of the previous political establishment, rendering his gifts in a precarious state after William fitz Duncan acceded to the honour. It would be unlikely that Godard would survive with his position intact after William fitz Duncan’s takeover. Godard disappears from record in the 1130s, but whether this is because of military or natural causes (Godard was probably middle- to old-aged at least by this time) is not known. At first glance this change of patronage would appear to be a conventional displacement of previous elites, especially those charged with administrative and defensive duties. However, Godard’s connection to St Bees persisted in his wife, Matilda, who made the substantial grant of Annaside, which was confirmed by the new lords.58 Adam son of Swain confirmed the gift, a landholder endowed by Henry I but who had close ties to the Scottish establishment and William fitz Duncan in particular.59 Adam was perhaps ward of the Millom estates in the minority of Godard’s son, Arthur, who emerged only after 1157, which would explain why there is no grant in Matilda’s name in the register.60 56 

The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 16. The phrasing of this grant is interesting and is discussed below. 57  In ‘De miraculo equorum Godardi militis’: The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, Illustrative Documents, no. 1 at p. 512. 58  Matilda’s grant itself is not within the register and is known only by reference to it in nos 39–41, these being confirmations given by King David, William fitz Duncan, and Adam son of Swain, respectively. 59  Dalton, Conquest, Anarchy and Lordship, p. 217; Liber feodorum, ed. by Maxwell-Lyte and others, p. 199; Early Yorkshire Charters, vii: The Honour of Skipton, ed. by Clay, p. 183. 60  Arthur son of Godard appears as witness in a confirmation given by William of Aumale: The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 382 (dated 1157 × 1179).

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William fitz Duncan, Adam’s lord, accordingly provided a confirmation of the grant, as did David, William’s suzerain in turn. The significance of these confirmations is that Godard’s alignment with the establishment of Henry I and Stephen did not cause the displacement of his family or their removal from the patronal network of St Bees, nor direct loss of estates. Not only did Matilda retain sufficient control of the family’s property to make her gift, but it was also endorsed by multiple figures of the new Scottish hierarchy. These events can be summarized in the following way. Godard, the founder’s captain, aided the earliest stages of foundation, his wife continued the support, and the change in lordship introduced new landholders, who demonstrated the legitimacy of their lordship by confirming existing gifts and granting their own. All these individuals were part of St Bees’s socio-political community, and thus through their political and feudal position within Copeland necessarily became involved in the welfare of its spiritual centre. Here, it is the accommodation of existing relationships and continuity that stand out, rather than the overhaul that the Scots’ conquest appears to be viewed as in early chronicle accounts of the invasion.61 William fitz Duncan’s patronage in particular demonstrates that conquest did not need to remain aggressive to maintain dominance, and the policy of indulgent accommodation was vindicated by the strength of the Scots’ position in Cumbria.

St Bees after Henry II’s Reclamation Only brief comment is needed on the patronage of the priory after the collapse of Scottish hegemony during the 1150s. The patronage continued in the hands of William fitz Duncan’s wife, Alice de Rumilly, and would have passed to her son, William ‘the boy’ of Egremont, but he died while still a ward of the king, and played little active role in the house’s development.62 In the absence of a male heir, the patronage fell to Alice’s eldest daughter, Cecily (II) de Rumilly (d. 1190). To ensure that Copeland was in the hands of individuals upon whom Henry II could rely, Cecily de Rumilly was married to William, count of Aumale (d. 1179), an adherent to Stephen against the Scots 61 

Stringer, ‘State-Building in Twelfth-Century Britain’, pp. 50–51. William died (supposedly) at Bolton Strid, c. 1163 × 1165, without issue: RHC, p. 119; Early Yorkshire Charters, vii: The Honour of Skipton, ed. by Clay, p. 13. There is some ambiguous evidence for a deed in William’s own name, but he certainly did not issue any general confirmation of rights to the house. Dalton, Conquest, Anarchy and Lordship, p. 230, but no authority given; The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 27 and n. 4. 62 

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and prominent on the English side at the Battle of the Standard and after.63 William did frequently act in the interests of the monks and he made a number of benefactions, but the patronal duties were exercised only by Cecily, who issued a general confirmation at some time between 1160 and 1190, probably in her widowhood.64 With Cecily and William installed, Copeland was in the hands of individuals who would look south, not north, for sovereignty. Cecily de Rumilly and William, count of Aumale were cultivators of spirituality in their various territories across northern England and an overview of their patterns of benefaction confirms their areas of interest. William had founded the priory (later abbey) of Augustinian canons at Thornton (1139), Bytham (Lincolnshire, 1147), Cistercian Meaux (Yorkshire, 1151), a daughter of Fountains, and he was cofounder of Gilbertine North Ormesby Priory (Lincolnshire, 1148 × 1154) with Gilbert son of Robert of Ormesby.65 Meanwhile, Cecily’s grandmother’s foundation of Embsay priory provided for Skipton, which formed the central portion of her inheritance and the chief claim to her political importance beside Copeland.66 From King Henry’s point of view, the Scottish settlement had been effectively reversed, and St Bees would reinforce and adorn the lordship of those loyal to him. For the remainder of the twelfth century St Bees was secure in the hands of its patrons. The make-up of its benefactors, however, changed in nature as the priory’s community gradually expanded beyond its core of land in Copeland and developed its holdings along the coast. The community of St Bees owed its strong beginnings to the integrity of Copeland’s honorial community, but by the end of the twelfth century a shift had occurred. This was a tendency toward diversification of benefactors, away from the trappings of political circumstance and instead representing the growth of deeper regional ties. The formation of these relationships and their extent is the final topic of this paper.

63 

Richard of Hexham, De gestis regis Stephani, pp. 159, 165. William of Aumale’s deeds are The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, nos 17 and 18 (quittance of noutgeld, a form of tax revenue); 20 (rent of mill in Egremont); and 224 (confirmation of vill of Hensingham). The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 382 was given by William but does not directly concern St Bees; Cecily’s confirmation is The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 27. 65  Dalton, ‘William le Gros’; Dugdale, Monasticon Anglicanum, vi, 963. 66  Dalton, Conquest, Anarchy and Lordship, pp. 213–14. 64 

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Religious Foundations and Social Cohesion Much of the appeal of monastic communities was their spiritual mode of living, which could inspire secular men and women to greater piety. The foundation of a monastery was a charitable work, undertaken at great expense and effort, and rewarded the founders and benefactors with spiritual assurance. The consequence for wider society was an institution that lay alongside secular structures, but which did not present the same limitations: the spiritual basis of religious communities meant they could form connections based more on personal affection than those established through purely temporal (for example, tenurial, economic, or governmental) activities. For the present discussion, two main questions arise. Firstly, what unique claim in this regard did religious communities present? Secondly, how did this manifest in the patterns of giftgiving of the communities just discussed, and to what effect? These issues are important for Cumbria. While the prestige of the regular clergy might have been beyond question for those of Norman extraction, for whom churches and monasteries were a fixture of the socio-political scene, Cumbria had for a long time been bereft of such institutionalized spirituality.67 The involvement of native landholders with religious institutions was therefore of great concern if the monks were to be seen as something other than a colonial enterprise imposed on a conquered region.

Spirituality and Personal Devotion among Cumbrian Benefactors Spirituality is a crucial factor when gauging the effect of religious houses upon wider society. It generated relationships built on pious sentiment rather than political circumstance, and could act as a universal binding agent. This view receives eloquent contemporary expression from the Cistercian abbot and theo­logian Aelred of Rievaulx (d. 1167), who is particularly clear on the matter. In his Speculum caritatis, Aelred discusses the role in society of caritas, love or charity, which is equated with God, and he argues that it must form a universal factor if humanity is to draw closer to the heavenly kingdom: Quae caritatis diffusio diuinae est et humanae uoluntatis coniunctio  […]. Quae tunc fit, cum Spiritus sanctus, qui utique Dei uoluntas et amor est, et Deus est, humanae se uoluntati ingerit et infundit, […]  ut ei indissolubili glutino unitatis adhaerens, unus cum eo spiritus efficiatur. 67 

Rose, ‘Cumbrian Society and the Anglo-Norman Church’, p. 130.

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([The] diffusion of charity is a joining of divine and human will. And it is made at the point when the Holy Spirit, which everywhere is God’s will and love, and is God, thrusts itself upon human will and infuses it  […] so that, clinging to it through the unbreakable bond of unity, the spirit is made one with Him.)68

Caritas, in the monastic world view, provided a path to achieving a harmonious society with God at its centre, and was applicable to social, political, and economic settings in equal measure. Of course, one way of exhibiting caritas was by supporting the regular clergy via benefactions. For the most part, diplomatic convention obscures the benefactor’s inner sentiment, but there are a few cases where it can be perceived. Some documents that come from St Bees have important implications. Although St Bees was staffed by a colony of monks from York there was a warm reception to the foundation, particularly by members of the ScotoNorthumbrian elite. Barrow suggested that David I’s confirmation to the community, given at Lamplugh, was made after a pilgrimage there. 69 Mention should be made of a witness in an early deed whose name is loaded with meaning given his association with St Bega: ‘Coremac Gille Becoc’, that is, ‘Coremac the devotee of St Bega’, but Coremac witnesses no other deed and appears singular in his style.70 However, devotion to St Bega is evident in other charters from the non-Norman benefactors. Between 1145 and 1179, Cospatrick son of Orm, the grandson of Ketell son of Eltred, when granting the vill of Salter, refers to St Bega as ‘advocatrici mee’ (my patron), indicating a personal devotional bond.71 The gift was made at the altar on the feast of the Assumption, the day perhaps chosen for its particular veneration of Mary, to whom the priory was dedicated alongside Bega, as well as being the saint of dedication for St Bees’s mother house in York.72 Cospatrick’s visit to the priory in person suggests that his relationship with the saint’s cult was affective and that his grants were not merely a conventional gesture. Cospatrick’s stay was probably facilitated by the community’s hospita68 

Aelred of Rievaulx, De speculo caritatis, ed. by Hoste and Talbot, ii, 18 (91). The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson no. 39; Barrow, ‘Kind David I, Earl Henry and Cumbria’, p. 127 n. 77. 70  Barrow, ‘Northern English Society’, pp. 133–34. 71  The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 33. 72  ‘Hanc vero oblacionem supradicte, scilicet, terre feci in prefata ecclesia super altare ejusdem virginis in die Assumpsionis sancte Dei genetricis Marie’: The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 33. 69 

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ble provision (as detailed in chapter 53 of the Rule of Benedict). The rule laid great emphasis on the spiritual significance of receiving guests, who were to be received ‘tamquam Christus’ (as Christ), and with whom the community, via deputed representatives, joined itself in prayer.73 The rule states that a guest should be taken to prayer, but where the prayer was said depended on the monastic precinct’s layout, and would probably have taken place in a gatehouse chapel or adjoining oratory rather than the monastic church. Cospatrick’s grant is explicit, however, and demonstrates the spirituality of monastic hospitality at its greatest extent. The community, as earthly servants of God, St Mary, and St Bega, extended a welcome physically, but they also received their guest as Christ, bringing him into spiritual concord with them through prayer. In his desire to further their work, Cospatrick similarly gave a physical gift of land, but its rationale was spiritual and the circumstances (such as the date) of its transfer symbolic of this spirituality. In short, in the coming together of guest and community, the caritas that Aelred described (as above) was being enacted, forging a unified society with God at its heart. Subtle but expressive language is also used in a deed that William fitz Duncan’s gave to the priory upon his coming into the estate of Copeland. The disposal clause of William’s deed employs conventional diplomatic regarding the beneficiaries. Anything relating to administration of the priory’s estates, such as granting permission to access or clarification of boundaries — in short, anything with a concrete, temporal element — is similarly made to the monks and the institution in general. However, William made his original contribution to St Bega directly: Necnon et illud sciendum est quod cum supradictis beate Bege virgini in elemosinam dedi pannagium de omnibus hominibus inter Derewente et Esc ad eam pertinentibus hoc insuper predicte domine concedendo quatinus tam porci hominum suorum inter Derwent et Esc quam dominii sui in omnibus boscis et planis de quibus ad me pertinet pannagium, pascua habeant absque ullo impedimento et redditu quem michi faciant. (And moreover let it be known that I have given in alms with the above-said things to Blessed Bega the Virgin the pannage of all men between the Derwent and the Esk pertaining to her, with this, moreover, to be granted to the aforesaid Lady, that 73 

The ‘Rule of St Benedict’ in Latin and English with Notes, ed. by Fry, pp. 254–59. An overview of the spiritual significance of monastic hospitality may be found in Kerr, Monastic Hospitality, pp. 94–102, 105–07, with special reference to Abingdon Abbey (formerly in Berkshire, now Oxfordshire).

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the pigs of her men should have pasture both between the Derwent and the Esk and of her demesne land in all woods and plains from which pannage pertains to me without any hindrance, and the rent which should be made to me.)74

No reference is made here to the monks of St Bees or the institution as a corporate entity. Instead, William’s deed describes St Bega as lady of the priory’s domains without intermediary. Another section of William’s deed singling out St Bega as landholder apart from any other entity is that stating the customary limit of her land, ‘rivum illum qui terminus […] terre beate Bege esse solebat’ (that river which […] used to be the limit of St Bega’s land); a phrase which, interestingly, appears in the deeds of William’s wife, Alice de Rumilly, but which was not used in patronal benefactions before or after.75 The direct dealing with the saint again suggests a personal devotion, and presents William’s relationship with the existing monastic establishment in a more affective light than his previous military activities, which caused the ruin of Calder Abbey and despoiled the lands of Hexham Priory and Furness Abbey, would suggest. Again, the role of the monastery in exercising lordship to cultivate, rather than dominate, is apparent. A third instance of St Bega’s special treatment is a gift of land that Alan son of Waltheof, Sigrid his mother, and Roger, her husband, gave jointly to the priory between 1130 and 1151. The gift was made ‘sancte Marie et specialiter sancta Bege et monachis’ (to St Mary and especially to St Bega and to the monks), distinguishing the object of the grantors’ piety from the saint of the mother house in York.76 The emphasis suggests that exalting local saints who were more familiar and of longer standing in the region was more significant than supporting the cult of Mary, the popularity of which increased only after the arrival of the Norman elite and was more associated with them, judging by dedications of ecclesiastical sites to patron saints.77 Given Alan’s involvement with Holm Cultram, the above phrasing could also be making a political statement, as it shows that he wished to support St Bees but not the mother house in York, and so adopted language emphasizing his devotion to the patron saint of the former. 74 

The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 16. The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 16. Alice’s deeds using the phrase ‘terminus terre beate Bege’ are in The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, nos 12 and 15. 76  The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 22. 77  Rose, ‘Cumbrian Society and the Anglo-Norman Church’, pp. 132–33; Graham and Collingwood, ‘Patron Saints of the Diocese of Carlisle’, pp. 1–3; full list of dedications at pp. 16–27. 75 

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A striking quality about these benefactors is that none was of Anglo-Norman heritage. They were of Scoto-Northumbrian noble lineage (Cospatric and Alan) or Scottish royalty (William), suggesting that the priory’s dedication to St Bega had special meaning for those of northern heritage. That these three figures spanned between them all the stages of conquest discussed above demonstrates that the cult of St Bega was an enduring and attractive force. Secondly, it also shows that St Bees, although a community tied in its foundation to Henry I’s sovereignty and staffed by monks from York, was not shunned by the wider community, highlighting the role of religious houses as points of convergence.

Political Circumstance to Regional Identity Clearly, if religious houses were to act as a binding force beyond those individuals involved in the foundation, the patronal network needed to expand over time. In the process a key shift occurred, from the religious house as an expression of political circumstance to being a fixture on a region’s spiritual landscape. The relationship between a house’s foundation and its subsequent activity is complex. While in many cases, very clearly at St Bees, ‘lordship acted as a channel for lay piety and was associated with relatively small complexes of lands as well as with the great earldoms and honors’, there was always an unknowable element of personal choice not dictated by honorial or political convention, undermining arguments based solely on political lines.78 The shift in the nature of patronage from honorial clique to a network identified with a region can be illustrated with reference to St Bees. By the late twelfth century the priory’s benefactors were typically descendants of individuals who had been involved with the initial foundation, or who held estates in areas nearby. Thomas son of Cospatrick, lord of Workington, descended from the line of Ketell fitz Eltred, making him the second cousin of William II of Lancaster, baron of Kendal, with whom he was contemporaneous. Similarly, lands that the priory gained north of the Solway were granted by a descendant of one involved with the foundation of St Bees. Roland son of Uchtred, lord of Galloway, prominent in his association with St Bees, was the son of Gunnilda, daughter of Waltheof.79 This was the same Waltheof who had his gift of Stainburn confirmed by William Meschin.80 For St Bees, familial networks 78 

Cownie, Religious Patronage in Anglo-Norman England, p. 174. The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 62 n. 1. 80  The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, no. 3. 79 

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intertwined with tenurial associations to create a reliable and consistent pool of benefactors which lasted throughout the twelfth century. This piety was a current that flowed more openly as the twelfth century progressed, and by the end of the century there arise a few figures noted for their benefactions. Cospatrick son of Orm (fl. 1145–79) in particular was devoted to aiding the religious, as noted in his dealings with Holm Cultram in Flimby. Cospatrick’s son, Thomas (mentioned above), continued his father’s policy and became a pillar of support for the Cumbrian religious establishment. He witnessed deeds to many religious houses and was a regular witness to charters of Holm Cultram and St Bees.81 Thomas not only made grants to multiple religious houses on his estates but also founded in c. 1191 a Premonstratensian abbey at Preston Patrick (later moved to Shap), the only religious house in Westmorland.82 The canons’ strict rule, which emulated Cistercian observance, and their secular obligations, made this order a fitting choice for Thomas. It is likely that his numerous benefactions and attestations stemmed from personal piety combined with a desire to see the region become more ‘spiritually affluent’, rather than because of an overt political loyalty.83 The ability of religious foundations to promote social cohesion is evidenced at an early date in a deed to Carlisle Priory. A charter given by Alan son of Waltheof between 1146 and 1156–57 (probably before 1150) demonstrates the full force of the ‘native’ community in their support for a religious enterprise introduced only very recently by Anglo-Norman elites.84 In a mighty assembly of local potentates, no fewer than twenty-three individuals attest Alan’s gift, including the prior of St Bees and many of Scoto-Northumbrian lineage, and it is an illuminating example of the way in which cultural and regional forces underlay political strategies.85 81 

RHC, nos 12, 15, 26, 160, 162 in the printed register, though Thomas attests many more transactions in Holm Cultram’s history to judge from extant original deeds. 82  Hawkins and Thorley, ‘The Premonstratensian House of Canons at Preston Patrick’; Colvin, The White Canons in England, p. 414. 83  Duncan, Scotland, p. 144. 84  Witnesses include Cospatric son of Orm and Bishop Aethwold (d. 25 May 1156 × 10 May 1157), though given the notable absence of Abbot Everard of Holm Cultram it is probably before the foundation of that house, 1145 × 1150. Carlisle, Cumbria Archive Centre, D & C, ‘Copy of Typescript of Grant of Alan Son of Waltheof to St Mary’s, Carlisle, Transcribed Originally by C. R. Davey’; now held at Cockermouth Castle, MS D/Lec. 303. 85  The witnesses to this deed are Prior Reginald of Wetheral; William the prior of St Bees; Aethelwold the clerk; Odard the chaplain; Alan son of Odard; Cospatrick son of Alan; Wil-

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Conclusion The history of Cumbria in the twelfth century is turbulent but marked by a steady growth of religious institutions that accompanied the growth of state apparatus. Returning to the historio­g raphical problem highlighted at the beginning, of determining what role monasteries played in this re-orientation of society, the following observations can be made. A monastic foundation was a feature of conquest, although a delayed feature. It was a mark of established superiority, rather than a means of imposing control.86 When William Meschin, with the aid and advice of Cecily his wife and Archbishop Thurstan, brought a prior and six monks to the outer reaches of the Cumbrian fells, his pious act established a focal point for expression of honorial identity that became an essential feature in Copeland’s honorial landscape, literally and figuratively. It was a commonplace of Anglo-Norman settlement that religious houses were founded in proximity to focal points of secular lordship, notably the castle (or equivalent). In this respect Cumbria is comparable to Wales, where religious houses were likewise founded in the wake of fresh conquest by the Normans, as Burton has demonstrated with reference to the Benedictine houses there,87 and to the Cistercians in this volume.88 Similarly, we can see that despite religious foundations taking on a distinct political colour as a result of their association with an honorial elite, circumstances of foundation did not wholly determine a community’s future and it would not be starved of patronage were their established honorial benefactors overthrown. Again, Cumbria’s experience bears similarity with Wales: William fitz Duncan’s patronage of St Bees may be set on a par with a prominent Welsh example, when Lord Rhys of Deheubarth assumed the patronage of the Cistercian abbey of Strata Florida in 1184, which had been founded by the Norman Robert fitz Stephen, castellan of Cardigan.89 It was more pragmatic in the long term for liam de Somerville; William de Heriz; Ranulf de Lindsey; Uchtred son of Liulf; Uchtred son of Uchtred; Cospatric son of Orm; Cospatric son of Dolfin; Adam his brother; Ailward son of Dolfin; Fintore Alan’s provost; Ketell son of Ulchilli; Adam son of Udervi; Werri; Rodbert son of Truite; Wiberto; and Ulstan. Note the absence of King David and Prince Henry. 86  Many religious foundations have been viewed as means of political aggression; see Stringer, ‘The Earliest Charters of Sawtry Abbey’; for monastic advowsons as tools of conflict, see Dalton, Conquest, Anarchy and Lordship, p. 190. 87  Burton, ‘Transition and Transformation’. 88  See Burton in this volume, pp. 103–53. 89  Burton and Kerr, The Cistercians in the Middle Ages, p. 45.

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an incoming lord to provide good lordship through confirmation of existing grants and thereby adopt, rather than extirpate, a former rival’s legacy. That religious houses survived violent transitions of power indicates their potential to cut across political divides by providing spiritual common ground, where caritas, if Cistercian termino­logy is used, was a guiding force rather than a base struggle for pre-eminence. As Newman has demonstrated, caritas drove activity in all areas of Cistercian life to the point that it even underpinned the acquisition and management of land.90 Older views of Cistercian economic activity, which perceived it as a betrayal of early ideals, have recently received qualification as a result, thus reinstating spirituality as the primary stimulus behind such activity.91 The acquisition of lands and rights by Cumbrian monastic foundations is a topic deserving detailed treatment in the future and has necessarily been omitted here. But it can be stated that while David’s foundation of Holm Cultram was a statement of lordship re-affirming the ancient boundaries of the Scoto-Northumbrian realm, it also thrust caritas into the otherwise secular socio-political and economic activity of a society still undergoing dramatic change. But spiritually charged activity was not limited to Cistercians alone and the older Benedictines also tapped into a powerful vein of sanctity that was intrinsic to Cumbria’s cultural heritage. A closer look at Cumbrian documentation highlights the great extent to which religiosity — no doubt informed by monastic conceptions of social order — infused what might otherwise be considered unremarkable benefactions. Gifts to St Bees throughout the twelfth century highlight the eminence that the cult centre enjoyed, and how it became a regional focus for expression of piety irrespective of political allegiance or ethnicity. By the end of the twelfth century, religious houses were less significant a factor in political reorientation, in part because of the thickening of social and familial ties in the region realigned political interests generally, but also because a sense of shared identity arose from benefactions to religious houses. At the highest level, the growth of Cumbrian monasticism may be seen as an instance of the remarkable expansion of Latin Christendom during the tenth to fourteenth centuries witnessed on frontiers across Europe. Even the language of the grants of the Norman elites, newly arrived in Cumbria, indicates such. One of William Meschin’s charters to St Bees gives the reason for his benefaction as: ‘it is a pious thing that the holy church of God may be expanded and increased 90  91 

Newman, The Boundaries of Charity, pp. 76–82. See Jamroziak, Cistercian Order in Europe, pp. 183–207.

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by its sons and faithful’.92 The tenor is exactly that which Bartlett has noted as characterizing the work of chroniclers and scribes across Christendom, to the point where the same word was used: ‘dilatare’ (to expand).93 This ‘expansion’ carried overt territorial connotations and elsewhere on other frontiers monasteries made their mark.94 Seen in terms of geo­g raphical influence, Cumbrian religious houses formed spiritual nodes in a network that already incorporated England within its coverage to a great extent, and which was proliferating in Scotland and Wales as well. Similar to this high-level view is the role that monasteries played in acculturation. The imposition of Latin and Anglo-Norman political, social, cultural, and economic norms is a vivid theme in the historio­graphy of the British Isles, thanks largely to the comparative work of R. R. Davies, and in this monasticism is recognized as having played a significant role. 95 The processes of Anglicanization that Davies describes as occurring in the British Isles in the eleventh to fourteenth centuries are largely those by which Cumbrian religious houses established themselves: introduction by Anglo-Norman elites (in cultural outlook, if not in heritage, such as for David I); engagement with native landholders, sometimes displacement of them; innovative economic organization and exploitation; and, above all, an implicit but unshakeable conviction that the Latin mode of religious life was superior and thus deserved support, tangible and otherwise.96 It would appear, then, that there are grounds for taking a very negative view of Cumbrian monasteries as part of the toolset of a conquering elite who had little patience for native religious culture, and who effectively forced dominated peoples to utilize Latin institutions to express their spirituality as best they could. However, although monastic houses helped bind society together, it was not always in ways that political protagonists could foresee, nor that they would have thought beneficial to their own interests. An illustration of how monasteries might grow far beyond the politics of their foundation may be found in the 92 

The Register of the Priory of St Bees, ed. by Wilson, nos 2, 3, 5, and 6 all contain the same wording: ‘pium est ut sancta Dei ecclesia a filiis et fidelibus suis dilatetur et amplificetur’. 93  Bartlett, Making of Europe, p. 253. 94  A good illustration of borderland foundation is Cistercian Kołbacz Abbey in 1174 (Pomerania), which occurred during a period of Danish hegemony in the region. Jamroziak, Survival and Success on Medi­eval Borders, pp. 50–53. 95  Davies, The First English Empire, p. 164. 96  Davies, Domination and Conquest, pp. 17–24.

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political contexts of Jocelin of Furness’s writings, as studied by Birkett, particularly the Vita Kentegerni, composed for Bishop Jocelin of Glasgow c. 1190.97 Allusions to contemporary ecclesiastical politics in the Vita reinforced the notion that Bishop Jocelin’s see was not subject to York or any other, except the papal see itself. In particular, the twelfth-century see of Glasgow was represented in the text as ‘Cambrian’. The term ‘Cumbrian’ was conscientiously avoided as it implied the historic region that had been split by the TweedSolway political border, including that within the accepted jurisdiction of York (Cumberland, Westmorland), which could have jeopardized Glasgow’s claim to independence.98 The association of ‘Cambrian’ with ‘Cumbrian’ is transparent enough, however, and shows that that the concept of ‘Cumbria’ of old remained a presence even in the minds of reformed monks. Furthermore, it was Bishop Jocelin’s own Cistercian vocation (at Melrose) and legal experience that helped him frame the diplomatic of the bull that guaranteed his see autonomy in 1175, and then paved the way in 1192 for Cum universi, a bull exempting the entire Scottish Church from ecclesiastical oversight, except the papacy’s.99 Jocelin’s (the author’s) involvement demonstrates how well Cumbrian ecclesiastical institutions had been integrated with the broader region and how the monastic enterprise was not bound to the political aims of its (in some cases nominal) patron or patronal line. Furness, a vice-regal foundation situated in a palatine county in possession of the English royal family, had, sixty-five years later, become by the work of one of its brethren an indirect facilitator of Scotland’s eventual ecclesiastical independence. Many valid accounts of how society in Cumbria and ‘Middle-Britain’ developed can be traced.100 Here, the role of monastic foundations has been advanced as a factor in (first) the domination and (second) the acculturation of a region. This approach modifies appreciation of topics that have occupied historians’ attention previously, especially those of a secular political orientation, such as contemporary attitudes toward and the location of the border.101 97 

Birkett, The Saints’ Lives of Jocelin of Furness, pp. 9–12. Birkett, The Saints’ Lives of Jocelin of Furness, pp. 178–81; Barrow, ‘King David I, Earl Henry and Cumbria’, pp. 118–19. 99  Broun, Scottish Independence and the Idea of Britain, pp. 138–40. 100  For the most recent perspectives, see Stringer and Winchester, Northern England and Southern Scotland. 101  For example, Barrow, ‘The Anglo-Scottish Border’; Todd, ‘The West March on the Anglo-Scottish Border’. 98 

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Monastic institutions encouraged collaboration, connectivity, and continuity, while they suffered from hostility or protracted conflict, as studies by Stringer and Jamroziak have shown with reference to the region.102 As such, a focus on religious foundations highlights the relative ephemerality of conflict and warfare, and emphasizes how these religious houses were able to act in support of, but with more profound reach and impact, than secular figures, sovereign or otherwise. This is in line with recent developments in borderland studies, where the focus has shifted from borders as distinct geopolitical entities, to ideas of ‘borderwork’, where borders derive their power from the agencies that establish and maintain them.103 Studies of early twenty-first-century society on the Anglo-Scottish border have revealed anxiety at the prospect of a ‘hard’ political border being reinstated in the wake of Brexit, and the consequent loss of communication, collaboration, and commerce with those on its other side, especially since it would arbitrarily cleave economic regions perceived to ‘make sense’.104 In reverse, a similar sentiment can be applied to the twelfth century. It is as pivotal ‘borderworkers’ that houses such as St Bees and Holm Cultram contributed most to the incorporation of the region into a sovereign state. The result was the creation of an enduring social edifice able to draw varying sections of society within its orbit, expanding beyond secular structures to form points on which local society could converge, and which facilitated the exercise of sincere and diligent lordship.

102 

Historio­graphical references are provided at the beginning of this paper. See especially Rumford, ‘Introduction’; Rovisco, ‘Reframing Europe and the Global’; Rumford, ‘Towards a Multi-Perspectival Study of Borders’. 104  Shaw, ‘Take Us with You Scotland’; Shaw and Robinson, ‘From “Regionalism” to “Localism”’, p. 243; Shaw, Robinson, and Blackie, ‘Borderlands’. 103 

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Works Cited Manu­scripts and Archival Sources Carlisle, Cumbria Archive Centre, Dean and Chapter, ‘Copy of Typescript of Grant of Alan Son of Waltheof to St Mary’s, Carlisle, Transcribed Originally by C. R. Davey’; now held at Cockermouth Castle, MS D/Lec. 303 London, British Library, MS  Harley 434

Primary Sources Aelred of Rievaulx, Relatio de standardo, in Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II, and Richard I, ed. by Richard Howlett (London: Longman, 1886), pp. 179–99 —— , De speculo caritatis, in Aelredi Rievallensis opera omnia, i, ed. by Anslem Hoste and Charles  H. Talbot, Corpus Christianorum continuatio mediaevalis, 1 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1971) The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, ed. and trans. by George N. Garmondsway (London: Dent, 1975) The Charters of King David  I: The Written Acts of David  I King of Scots, 1124–53 and of his Son Henry Earl of Northumberland, 1139–52, ed.  by Geoffrey W.  S. Barrow (Woodbridge: Boydell, 1999) The Chronicle of Melrose, in The Church Historians of England, ed. and trans. by Joseph Stevenson (London: Seeleys, 1856), iv.1 Dugdale, William, Monasticon Anglicanum, ed. by John Caley, Henry Ellis, and Bulkeley Bandinel, rev. edn, 6 vols (London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme and Brown, 1817–30) Early Yorkshire Charters, vii: The Honour of Skipton: Based on the Manu­scripts of the Late William Farrer, ed. by Charles Travis Clay, Yorkshire Archaeo­logical Society, Record Series, e.s., 5 (Wakefield: Yorkshire Archaeo­logical Society, 1947) The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, ed. and trans. by Marjorie Chibnall, Oxford Medi­eval Texts, 6 vols (Oxford: Clarendon, 1969–80) The Foundation History of the Abbeys of Byland and Jervaulx, ed. and trans. by Janet Burton, Borthwick Texts and Studies, 35 (York: Borthwick Institute, 2006) The Lanercost Cartulary (Cumbria County Record Office MS DZ/1), ed. by John Macnair Todd, Surtees Society, 203; Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeo­ logical Society Record Series, 11 (Durham: Surtees Society, 1997) Liber feodorum: The Book of Fees, Commonly Called ‘Testa de Nevill’, ed.  by Henry  C. Maxwell-Lyte and others (London: HMSO, 1920) Regesta regum Anglo-Normannorum, 1066–1154, ed. by Henry W. Carless Davis, 4 vols (Oxford: Clarendon, 1913), ii The Register of the Priory of St  Bees, ed.  by James Wilson, Publications of the Surtees Society, 126 (Durham: Surtees Society, 1915) The Register of the Priory of Wetherhal, ed. by John E. Prescott, Cumberland and West­mor­ land Antiquarian and Archaeo­logical Society, Record or Chartulary, ser. 1 (London: Elliot Stock, 1897)

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Richard of Hexham, De gestis regis Stephani, in Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II, and Richard I, ed. by Richard Howlett (London: Longman, 1886), pp. 137–78 The ‘Rule of St Benedict’ in Latin and English with Notes, ed. by Timothy Fry (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1981)

Secondary Works Barrell, Andrew D. M., Medi­eval Scotland (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 2000) Barrow, Geoffrey W. S., ‘Scottish Rulers and the Religious Orders, 1070–1153’, Trans­ actions of the Royal Historical Society, 5th ser., 3 (1955), 77–100 —— , ‘The Pattern of Lordship and Feudal Settlement in Cumbria’, Journal of Medi­eval History, 1 (1975), 117–38 —— , ‘Northern English Society in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries’, in Scotland and its Neighbours in the Middle Ages (London: Hambledon, 1992), pp. 127–53 —— , Scotland and its Neighbours in the Middle Ages (London: Hambledon, 1992) —— , ‘The Anglo-Scottish Border: Growth and Structure in the Middle Ages’, in Grenzen und Grenzregionen, Veröffentlichungen der Kommission Saarländischen Landes­ geschichte und Volksforschung, 22 (Saarbrücken: Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag, 1994), pp. 197–212 —— , ‘King David I, Earl Henry and Cumbria’, Transactions of the Cumberland and West­ morland Antiquarian and Archaeo­logical Society, 99 (1999), 117–27 Bartlett, Robert, The Making of Europe: Conquest, Colonization and Cultural Change 950–1350 (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1994) —— , ‘Cults of Irish, Scottish and Welsh Saints in Twelfth-Century England’, in Britain and Ireland, 900–1300: Insular Responses to Medi­eval European Change, ed.  by Brendan Smith (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 1999), pp. 67–86 Birkett, Helen, The Saints’ Lives of Jocelin of Furness: Hagio­graphy, Patronage and Ecclesi­ astical Politics (Woodbridge: York Medi­eval, 2010) Broun, Dauvit, Scottish Independence and the Idea of Britain: From the Picts to Alexander III (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni­ver­sity Press, 2007) Burton, Janet, The Monastic Order in Yorkshire, 1069–1215 (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 1999) —— , ‘Citadels of God: Monasteries, Violence, and the Struggle for Power in Northern England, 1135–1154’, Anglo-Norman Studies, 31 (2008), 17–30 —— , ‘Furness, Savigny, and the Cistercian World’, in Jocelin of Furness, ed. by Clare Down­ ham (Donington: Shaun Tyas, 2013), pp. 7–16 —— , ‘Transition and Transformation: The Benedictine Houses’, in Monastic Wales: New Approaches, ed. by Janet Burton and Karen Stöber (Cardiff: Uni­ver­sity of Wales Press, 2013), pp. 21–37 Burton, Janet, and Julie Kerr, The Cistercians in the Middle Ages (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2011) Colvin, Howard M., The White Canons in England (Oxford: Clarendon, 1951) Cownie, Emma, The Religious Patronage of the Anglo-Norman Aristocracy in England, 1066–1135 (Woodbridge: Boydell, 1998)

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Dalton, Paul, Conquest, Anarchy and Lordship: Yorkshire, 1066–1154, Cam­bridge Studies in Medi­eval Life and Thought, 4th ser., 27 (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 1994) —— , ‘William le Gros, Count of Aumale and Earl of York (c.  1110–1179)’, in Oxford Dictionary of National Bio­graphy (Oxford: Oxford Uni­ver­sity Press, 2004) Davies, Robert  R., Domination and Conquest: The Experience of Ireland, Scotland and Wales, 1100–1300 (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 1990) —— , The First English Empire: Power and Identity in the British Isles, 1093–1343 (Oxford: Oxford Uni­ver­sity Press, 2000) Doherty, Hugh F., ‘Robert de Vaux and Roger de Stuteville, Sheriffs of Cumberland and Northumberland, 1170–1185’, in Anglo-Norman Studies, xxviii: Proceedings of the Battle Conference 2005, ed.  by Christopher  P. Lewis (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2006), pp. 65–102 —— , ‘King Henry II’s Charter for Adam, Nepos of the Sheriff of Carlisle’, in North-West England from the Romans to the Tudors: Essays in Memory of John Macnair Todd, ed.  by Keith  J. Stringer, Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeo­ logical Society, e.s., 41 (Kendal: Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeo­logical Society, 2014), pp. 87–122 Downham, Clare, ‘St Bega — Myth, Maiden, or Bracelet? An Insular Cult and its Origins’, Journal of Medi­eval History, 33 (2007), 33–42 Duncan, Archibald A. M., Scotland: The Making of the Kingdom (Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1975) Farrer, William, and John Brownbill, eds, A History of the County of Lancashire, The Vic­ toria History of the Counties of England, 8 vols (London: Victoria County History, 1908), ii Graham, T.  H.  B., and W.  G. Collingwood, ‘Patron Saints of the Diocese of Carlisle’, Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeo­logical Society, 2nd ser.,  25 (1925), 1–27 Green, Judith, ‘King Henry I and Northern England’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 6th ser., 17 (2007), 35–55 Hawkins, Harry, and John Thorley, ‘The Premonstratensian House of Canons at Preston Patrick’, Transactions of the Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeo­ logical Society, 12 (2012), 107–22 Jamroziak, Emilia M., Rievaulx Abbey and its Social Context, 1132–1300: Memory, Locality, and Networks, Medi­eval Church Studies, 8 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2005) —— , ‘Holm Cultram Abbey: A Story of Success?’, Northern History, 45 (2008), 27–36 —— , Survival and Success on Medi­eval Borders: Cistercian Houses in Medi­eval Scotland and Pomerania from the Twelfth to the Late Fourteenth Century, Medi­eval Texts and Cultures of Northern Europe, 24 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011) Kerr, Julie, Monastic Hospitality: The Benedictines in England, c. 1070–c. 1250, Studies in the History of Medi­eval Religion, 32 (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2007) King, Edmund, King Stephen (New Haven: Yale Uni­ver­sity Press, 2010)

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Newman, Martha G., The Boundaries of Charity: Cistercian Culture and Ecclesiastical Reform, 1098–1180 (Stanford: Stanford Uni­ver­sity Press, 1996) Rose, R. K., ‘Cumbrian Society and the Anglo-Norman Church’, in Religion and National Identity: Papers Read at the Nineteenth Summer Meeting and Twentieth Winter Meeting of the Ecclesiastical History Society, ed.  by Stuart  Mews, Studies in Church History, 18 (Oxford: Blackwell, 1982), pp. 119–35 Rovisco, Maria, ‘Reframing Europe and the Global: Conceptualizing the Border in Cul­ tural Encounters’, Society and Space, 28 (2010), 1015–30 Rumford, Chris, ‘Introduction: Citizens and Borderwork in Europe’, Space and Polity, 12 (2008), 1–12 —— , ‘Towards a Multi-Perspectival Study of Borders’, Geopolitics, 17 (2012), 887–902

Sanders, Ivor  J., English Baronies: A  Study of their Origin and Descent, 1086–1327 (Ox­ford: Clarendon, 1960) Sharpe, Richard, Norman Rule in Cumbria 1092–1136, Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeo­logical Society, Tract Series, 21 (Kendal: Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeo­logical Society, 2006) Shaw, Keith, ‘Take Us with You Scotland: Post-Referendum Reflections from the North East of England’, Scottish Affairs, 24 (2015), 452–62 Shaw, Keith, and Fred Robinson, ‘From “Regionalism” to “Localism”: Opportunities and Challenges for North East England’, Local Economy, 27 (2012), 232–50 Shaw, Keith, Fred Robinson, and Jonathan Blackie, ‘Borderlands: Rescaling Economic Development in Northern England in the Context of Greater Scottish Autonomy’, Local Economy, 29 (2014), 412–28 Stenton, Frank M., The First Century of English Feudalism, 1066–1166, 2nd edn (Oxford: Clarendon, 1961) Stringer, Keith J., ‘A Cistercian Archive: The Earliest Charters of Sawtry Abbey’, Journal of the Society of Archivists, 6 (1980), 325–34 —— , ‘State-Building in Twelfth-Century Britain: David I, King of Scots, and Northern Eng­land’, in Government, Religion and Society in Northern England, 1000–1700, ed. by John C. Appleby and Paul Dalton (Stroud: Sutton, 1997), pp. 40–62 —— , ‘Reform Monasticism and Celtic Scotland: Galloway, c.  1140–c.  1240’, in Alba: Celtic Scotland in the Middle Ages, ed.  by Edward  J. Cowan and Russell Andrew McDonald (East Linton: Tuckwell, 2000), pp. 127–65 —— , The Reformed Church in Medi­eval Galloway and Cumbria: Contrasts, Connections and Continuities, Whithorn Lectures, 11 (Whithorn: Friends of the Whithorn Trust, 2002) Stringer, Keith J., and Angus  J.  L. Winchester, eds, Northern England and Southern Scotland in the Central Middle Ages (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2017) Summerson, Henry, Medi­eval Carlisle: The City and the Borders from the Late Eleventh to the Mid-Sixteenth Century, 2 vols (Kendal: Cumberland and Westmorland Anti­ quarian and Archaeo­logical Society, 1993), i

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Thorley, John, ‘The Estates of Calder Abbey’, Transactions of the Cumberland and West­ morland Antiquarian and Archaeo­logical Society, 4 (2004), 133–62 Todd, John Macnair, ‘St Bega: Cult, Fact and Legend’, Transactions of the Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeo­logical Society, 80 (1980), 23–35 —— , ‘The Pre-Conquest Church in St Bees, Cumbria: A Possible Minster?’, Transactions of the Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeo­logical Society, 3 (2003), 97–108 —— , ‘The West March on the Anglo-Scottish Border in the Twelfth Century and the Origins of the Western Debateable Land’, Northern History, 43 (2006), 11–19 Wilson, James, ‘Ecclesiastical History’, in A History of the County of Cumberland, The Victoria History of the Counties of England, 2 vols (Westminster: Constable, 1905), i, 1–126

Tensions in a Border Abbey: Strata Marcella, its Patrons, Friends, and Enemies Janet Burton*

T

he ‘border’ with which this paper is concerned was physical, political, ethnic, and cultural, and the abbey which forms its focus is the Welsh Cistercian monastery of Strata Marcella. There were fifteen Cistercian houses in medi­eval Wales, thirteen for men and two for women.1 The geo­ graphical distribution of these houses shows a distinctive pattern. Those in the southern part of Wales (with one exception) were founded between about 1130 and 1147 by Anglo-Norman lords.2 These comprised the former Savigniac abbey of Neath, established around 1130 at what was then the limit of Norman political power; Tintern on the River Wye just a few miles from the Clare cas 

* I am grateful to Dr Karen Stöber for reading a draft of this paper, and to Dr David Stephenson who has generously made suggestions for its improvement and saved me from making errors about the dynasty of Gwenwynwyn. 1  For comprehensive accounts of the Cistercians in Wales see the works of David Williams, most recently brought together and digested in his Welsh Cistercians. See also Robinson, The Cistercians in Wales. Accounts of individual houses are given in Burton and Stöber, Abbeys and Priories of Medi­eval Wales. 2  The exception is Llantarnam (Caerleon), founded by Hywel ab Iorwerth, lord of Caerleon, in 1179, during a period of Welsh political resurgence in the south of Wales: Burton and Stöber, Abbeys and Priories of Medi­eval Wales, pp. 125–27. Grace Dieu, a late (1226) foundation on the south-east border of England and Wales, suffered as a result of its location: Burton and Stöber, Abbeys and Priories of Medi­eval Wales, pp. 99–101. Janet Burton ([email protected]) is Professor of Medi­eval History at Uni­ver­sity of Wales Trinity Saint David (Lampeter). With Karen Stöber, she is co-director of the Monastic Wales Project, and joint general editor of the Journal of Medi­eval Monastic Studies. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 103–119 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117260

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tle of Chepstow; Margam, colonized by monks from Clairvaux at the behest of Robert, earl of Gloucester; and Whitland, also apparently founded from Clairvaux but possibly with influence from Vaucelles.3 In contrast those of midand north Wales were (with one exception) second and third generation houses, the result of internal colonization within Wales, which owed their origin to the patronage of native Welsh lords.4 This second group of abbeys ultimately derived from Whitland which, although in origin an Anglo-Norman foundation, came under the patronage of the Welsh lords of Deheubarth. It is usual, therefore, in the historio­graphy of the White Monks in Wales, to see two distinct groups of Cistercian houses, those in the Marches, Marchia Wallia, and those in Pura Wallia, the latter being areas that remained under native Welsh control until the final loss of Welsh independence in 1282 and beyond.5 Strata Marcella (Ystrad Marchell in Welsh), the subject of the paper, was the second daughter house of Whitland; it was founded in 1170 by Owain Cyfeiliog, ruler of southern Powys, not far from the castle of Pool (now Welshpool).6 Owain was one of a formidable group of Welsh rulers — a number of them related by kinship and marriage — who adopted the Cistercians as their order of choice, among them the founders of Strata Marcella’s sister houses of Strata Florida (Rhys ap Gruffudd of Deheubarth, ‘Yr Arglwydd Rhys’) and Cwmhir (Cadwallon ap Madog ab Idnerth of Ceri and Maelienydd). Strata Marcella was thus one of our monasteries that falls into the category of houses in Pura Wallia but in another way it was a border abbey, located as it was near the River Severn which in some places (particularly when in flood) formed a natural barrier between England and Wales. In a sense, therefore, it was in a unique position within Wales.7 3  For a concise account of Whitland see Burton and Stöber, Abbeys and Priories of Medi­ eval Wales, pp. 218–21, and, for the Vaucelles connection, Tock, ‘Les foundations anglaise et galloise de l’abbaye de Vaucelles’. 4  The exception is Basingwerk, founded by the earl of Chester in the disputed area of Tegeingl: Burton and Stöber, Abbeys and Priories of Medi­eval Wales, pp. 46–50. 5  Williams, Welsh Cistercians, pp. 26–42; see also Burton, ‘The Cistercians in Marchia Wallia and Pura Wallia’. 6  Ystrad Marchell is held to have been named for St Marchell, the sister of St Tyfydog, and thus maintained a link with the so-called ‘age of saints’. For the foundation charter see The Acts of Welsh Rulers 1120–1283, ed. by Pryce, pp. 744–45 (no. 539); The Charters of Ystrad Marchell, ed. by Thomas, pp. 145–46 (no. 1). 7  As David Stephenson reminded me (personal communication) in other ways the Severn was a route way into Wales, as is shown by the string of Anglo-Norman castles from Hen Domen to Caersws. Nothing remains of the monastery of Strata Marcella, apart from earth-

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This paper has grown out of a much broader piece of research undertaken under the auspices of the Monastic Wales Project into questions of community and identity, and into the place of the Cistercian abbeys in the political and cultural landscape of Wales, both Marchia Wallia and Pura Wallia.8 Regarding the essential issue of community, what can we know of the nature of the community of Strata Marcella, an abbey of Pura Wallia but also enjoying a border location? As to identity, Strata Marcella was an abbey in the patronage of a Welsh ruler, but also a member of an international organization — how was this layered identity played out and negotiated?9 Further, what can we know about the relationship of Strata Marcella with the Cistercian order, with its patrons, and with its local community? And did these relationships change over time? In the particular context of Wales, a key question is whether the change of political regime that followed the loss of Welsh independence in 1284 affected the ways in which the monks of Strata Marcella thought of themselves in relation to their patrons and their locality, and to the Cistercian order. 10 Historical scholarship has tended to concentrate on the era of foundation and expansion but aspects of the history of the Cistercians in Wales in the period after the Edwardian Conquest are ripe for revisiting and reassessment.

The Patrons of Strata Marcella This paper focuses on events at, and relating to, Strata Marcella over just a few years, as a microcosm with which to address these broader research questions; those few years are the decades of the 1320s and 1330s, forty to fifty years after works. Stephen Williams excavated the site in the nineteenth century and was able to reconstruct a plan; this, however, was modified as a result of geophysical survey in 1990: see Arnold, ‘Strata Marcella’, pp. 88–94. A carved capital from the abbey church now serves as the font at the parish church of Buttington (Shropshire) and the medi­eval doorway at Llanfair Caereinion Church (Powys) may also derive from the abbey. See Burton and Stöber, Abbeys and Priories of Medi­eval Wales, pp. 194–97. 8  See [accessed 1 February 2019]. This research also continues as part of the AHRC-funded project ‘The Sacred Landscapes of Medi­eval Monasteries: An Interdisciplinary Study of Meaning Embedded in Space’ (AH/R00582/1), Principal Investigator Professor David Austin, Uni­ver­sity of Wales Trinity Saint David (Lampeter). 9  Similar questions on the relationship between the local and international identity are raised in this volume’s paper by Richard Thomason. 10  Following the death of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd in December 1282 and the downfall of Gwynedd the principality of Wales was brought into the legal and administrative structures of England by the Statute of Rhuddlan (1284).

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the victories of Edward I over Llywelyn ap Gruffudd of Gwynedd. The question of the patronage of the abbey is crucial to the interpretation of events. Patronage of a religious house could be a defining feature of a monastery’s identity and so a few remarks about the descent of the patronage of the abbey are necessary. Owain Cyfeiliog’s rule over southern Powys was marked both by confrontation with other Welsh lords and occasional alliance with the English. He was lauded by Gerald of Wales for his ‘equity, prudence, and princely moderation’, by his court poet Cynddelw Brydydd Mawr for his lavish hospitality, by the author of the romance of Fouke fitz Warin as ‘un chevalier hardy e fer’ (a knight courageous and strong), and in his epitaph as ‘ecclesie cultor’ (benefactor of the church).11 His commitment to the abbey he had founded is demonstrated by the fact that shortly before his death in 1197 he took the Cistercian habit at Strata Marcella and was buried there, breaking the tradition of dynastic interment at the ancient clas church of Meifod.12 Owain’s son, Gwenwynwyn, continued the patronage of the house, issuing over thirty charters for Strata Marcella, of which twelve have survived as originals among the Wynnstay Estate Records at the National Library of Wales, Aberystwyth.13 It is noteworthy that Gwenwynwyn sought confirmation of his and his father’s grants to Strata Marcella from the English king : John’s charter of confirmation is dated to April of his first regnal year (April 1200).14 The political context for its issue was the protection that John had afforded Gwenwynwyn at a time when the English king was playing off against each other the rulers of southern Powys and Gwynedd in north-west Wales. Pura Wallia this may have been but there was perhaps a pragmatic realization of the importance of a confirmation by the English king of Welsh grants to a Welsh 11 

Tout, rev. by Williams, ‘Owain Cyfeiliog (d. 1197)’. For Gerald’s comments see Giraldus Cambrensis, Giraldi Cambrensis opera, vi, 144–45; Giraldus Cambrensis, ‘The Journey through Wales’ / ‘The Description of Wales’, trans. by Thorpe, pp. 202–03. 12  ‘Brut y Tywysogion’, Peniarth MS 20 Version, ed. by Jones, p. 79; ‘Brut y Tywysogion’, or, the ‘Chronicle of the Princes’, Red Book of Hergest Version, ed. by Jones, p. 181. See also Stephenson, ‘The Rulers of Gwynedd and Powys’, p. 92. On Meifod see also Stephenson, Medi­eval Powys. 13  Facsimiles, transcripts, and translations are available on the National Library of Wales website: [accessed 2 March 2016]; see also The Charters of the Abbey of Ystrad Marchell, ed. by Thomas. For comment on Gwenwynwyn’s first authentic charter for the abbey see Stephenson, ‘Rulers of Gwynedd and Powys’, p. 97. See also Acts of Welsh Rulers, ed. by Pryce, pp. 746–69, 771–72 (nos 542–45, 548–54, 556–75, 578). 14  The Charters of Ystrad Marchell, ed. by Thomas, pp. 187–88 (no. 25).

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abbey. Like some other Welsh rulers Gwenwynwyn shifted in and out of alliances with the English across the border.15 How — if at all — this affected the Powysian dynastic abbey of Strata Marcella is not always easy to ascertain. Gwenwynwyn was succeeded by his son, Gruffudd, and Gruffudd by his son Owain. Their careers demonstrate how a Welsh lord of southern Powys could also show characteristics of a marcher baron: shifting political alliances and marriage to an English wife, for instance. In his old age Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn supported Edward I in his final war against Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, and in the 1270s and 1280s insisted that he had the status of a marcher baron.16 After Gruffudd’s death in 1286 his oldest son, Owain — known as Owain de la Pole — became the first lord of the English barony of Powys: ‘his career as well as that of his father illustrates very remarkably the process of transition by which a Welsh prince could become an English baron and a Welsh kingdom a marcher lordship’.17 Despite their political ambivalence, however, both Gruffudd and Owain are likely to have been buried at Strata Marcella.18 Owain (d. 1293) married Joan Corbet, and after the death of their son Gruffudd without issue in 1309, their daughter, Hawise de la Pole inherited the lordship. Through her marriage that same year to John de Charlton — the main protagonist in this snapshot of life on the Welsh border — the lordship passed to the Charlton family.19 It is notable that both John and Hawise were buried among 15  On Gwenwynwyn see Tout, rev. by Carr, ‘Gwenwynwyn (d. 1216)?’. See also Stephenson, ‘The Politics of Powys Wenwynwyn in the Thirteenth Century’; Lieberman, The Medi­eval March of Wales, pp. 124–27, 155–56, 164. 16  I am grateful to David Stephenson for pointing out to me that the marcher barony of Powys was in existence before 1284 and for drawing my attention to the reference, by Gruffudd, to himself as ‘Baro domini Regis de Marchia’, in Welsh Assize Roll, ed. by Davies, p. 265. On Gruffudd see Tout, rev. by Carr, ‘Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn (d. 1286)’; see also Lieberman, Medi­eval March of Wales, pp. 129–34. For Gwenwynwyn’s marriage to Margaret Corbet see Stephenson, ‘The Politics of Powys Wenwynwyn’, p. 50, and for Gruffudd’s marriage to Hawise Lestrange, p. 55, and ‘Crisis and Continuity’, p. 60 n. 11. 17  Tout, rev. by Carr, ‘Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn’. On Powys Wenwynwyn after Gruffudd’s death see also Stephenson, ‘The Politics of Powys Wenwynwyn’, pp. 42–44, and Morgan, ‘The Barony of Powys 1275–1360’. 18  Stephenson, ‘Rulers of Gwynedd and Powys’, p. 92, notes that although it is not known where Gwenwynwyn was buried — he died in exile within the earldom of Chester — ‘Gwenwynwyn’s son Gruffudd and in turn his eldest son Owain were surely buried in the same house’. The castle of nearby Pool had become the favoured seat of the dynasty: Stephenson, ‘The Politics of Powys Wenwynwyn’, p. 53. 19  See Mason, ‘Charlton, John, First Lord Charlton of Powys (d. 1353)’; Morgan, ‘The

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the Franciscan friars in Shrewsbury rather that at Strata Marcella. The Welsh dynasty of Powys Gwenwynwyn did not die out completely, however, and John would have to face challenges first from his wife’s uncle, Gruffudd (Fychan) de la Pole, and then from Gruffudd’s brother-in-law, Thomas ap Rhodri.20

John de Charlton and Strata Marcella Conflicting interests and loyalties always had the potential to disturb the relationship between a monastery and its patrons. In the case of Strata Marcella these would surely have been exacerbated by the change of political regime, and the loss of their native dynasty, a remnant of which survived to disrupt Charlton’s tenure of the lands that had come to him through marriage. Certainly relations between the abbey and its first English patron appear to have become strained — if indeed they were ever cordial — and three distinct but connected issues can be detected. The remainder of this paper argues that control of the abbey of Strata Marcella was part of John’s strategy to secure his wife’s inheritance. First, let us focus on events at Strata Marcella at the end of the 1320s. In many respects these were heady years for John de Charlton. In 1327, he had supported the deposition of Edward II, and was reaping his reward in the form of the favour of King Edward III. However, he had yet fully to secure the barony of Powys in the face of the tenacity of his wife’s family, and it was only months after the succession of the young Edward III who was under the tutelage of another man with ambitions to extend his power on the Marches — Roger Mortimer — that John ejected Gruffudd de la Pole from his lands.21 The evidence for the episode involving Strata Marcella derives from a number of records of the English Crown, the earliest of which is a petition to the king concerning Strata Marcella. In it John de Charlton described himself as auowe (advocate) of Strata Marcella. Barony of Powys’, pp. 12–14. The Charlton family held the barony until the family died out in 1421. See in particular the important article by Stephenson, ‘Crisis and Continuity’. 20  See Stephenson, ‘Crisis and Continuity’, pp. 57–60. 21  As early as 1311 John had quarrelled with Gruffudd de la Pole about possession of Dinas and Mechain-Is-Coed, and although this had been settled in 1313 when the two received royal pardon the challenge lingered on. John de Charlton supported Mortimer and Queen Isabella in 1326 and his son, John, married a daughter of Mortimer. See Mason, ‘Charlton, John, First Lord Charlton of Powys (d. 1353)’. For details of the disputes between Charlton and Gruffudd see Stephenson, ‘Crisis and Continuity’, pp. 60–65; Morgan, ‘The Barony of Powys’, pp. 10–32.

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La meison de Stradmarghel en la terre de Powys en Gales est del orde de Cysteux et per mauoise garde del souereins est come destruite et a poy amenti car il y solent estre seysant moignes et ore y sont forsqe oyt et si va la meison en declin de iour en autre. Dont prie son lige bachiler Johan de Charleton auowe de la dite meison qe vous plese per vos litteres prier al abbe de Cysteux qe y voille enuoier suffisantz visitours a faire come que apertient solont cours et ordenance de lordre. Ausit prie le dit Iohan qe vous plese graunter vos litteres de condute a son moigne dantz Robert Cede qil peusse passer sauent a suyre ses dites busoignes a lour chapitre de Cystoux qe commence lendemain de la natiuite nostre dame prochayn.22 (The house of Strata Marcella is in the land of Powys in Wales, and it is of the order of Cîteaux. As a result of the poor guardianship by those in charge of it, it is now as if destroyed and little regarded, because there have been accustomed to be sixty monks there and now there are only eight, and so it declines from day to day. For this reason, his liege bachelor John de Charlton, patron of the said house, prays that it might please you to request through your letters patent that the abbot of Cîteaux send competent visitors to do what is necessary according to the rule and ordinance of the order. The said John also prays that you might be pleased to grant letters of safe conduct to his monk Robert Cede named within so that he might journey safely on the said business to their chapter at Cîteaux which begins on the day after the nativity of our lady next following.)23

John thus complains that the souereins, the lords or masters of the abbey — those in charge of its governance — had, through neglect, almost destroyed it, and he alleges that the number of monks had shrunk from sixty to just eight. He asks the king to write to the abbot of Cîteaux requesting him to arrange a visitation to do what might be necessary according to the rule and ordinance of the order. He further requests safe conduct for ‘his monk’ Robert Cede to travel to the general chapter of the Cistercian order so that he might voice John’s concerns. In the normal course of things, the duty of visitation would have fallen to the abbot of Whitland as father abbot of Strata Marcella, but here John, patron of the abbey, requests the king to go to the very top, to the abbot of Cîteaux himself to arrange a delegation to conduct a visitation. Although this petition is undated I would argue that it was the catalyst for a letter of August 1328, in which Edward III wrote to the abbot of Clairvaux informing him that three Cistercian abbots, those of Dore, Hailes, and Thame, 22 

London, The National Archives, SC 8/308/15389; English summary in Calendar of Ancient Petitions Relating to Wales, ed. by Rees, pp. 489–90, where dated between 1328 and 1333. 23  The feast day of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary was 8 September and the morrow of the feast thus 9 September. The general chapter traditionally began on 14 September, the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.

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acting both on the authority of the abbot of Cîteaux and the diffinitors of the general chapter, and at the king’s request, had removed the Welsh abbot and monks of Strata Marcella because they were leading a dissolute life and had squandered the abbey’s goods.24 They had, moreover, replaced with English monks those Welshmen who had been expelled. The general chapter had, it would appear, responded to John’s petition, which had been mediated through the king. It may be noted that the king wrote not to the abbot of Cîteaux but to the abbot of Clairvaux. The matter did not rest there but moved to the question of the affiliation of Strata Marcella. The king had requested the abbot of Cîteaux and the general chapter to remove the office of visitation ‘which lately pertained by the abbot of Clairvaux’s commission to the abbot of Whitland’ and transfer it to Buildwas — the abbot of Clairvaux being the father abbot of Whitland. Buildwas was a Cistercian abbey on the River Severn, much closer to Strata Marcella in terms of geo­graphy than Whitland, but originally of a different line of affiliation (that of Savigny), and on the English side of the border. The king justified this request by claiming that the abbot of Whitland had failed to visit Strata Marcella, using the expense of travel as an excuse; Buildwas, in contrast, had been chosen as the new mother house of Strata Marcella because it was an abbey ‘where wholesome observance and regular institution flourish’. The king expressed confidence in the abbot of Buildwas ‘by whose wisdom and industry’, he believed, the condition of Strata Marcella would improve. On the same day the king wrote to the abbot of Cîteaux and the general chapter and in this letter it emerges that the report about the state of Strata Marcella and the appointment of visitors by the diffinitors of the chapter had been made to him by John de Charlton, patron of the abbey;25 this must surely refer to the petition discussed above which appears to have provoked these two letters, and which can thus be dated some time before August 1328. In both pieces of correspondence the king expressed his hope that the abbot of Clairvaux would not be offended by this proposed action, since both Whitland and Buildwas were his daughter houses.26 It was just a year later, in August 24 

Calendar of the Close Rolls, 1327–1330, p. 410. It is worth noting that there is no record of this case in the surviving records of the general chapter. 25  Calendar of the Close Rolls, 1327–1330, p. 410. 26  As noted above, Buildwas was a daughter house of Savigny. Following the merger of the order of Savigny with that of Cîteaux Savigny itself became a daughter house of Clairvaux; this would account here for Buildwas being described as of the affiliation of Clairvaux.

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1329, that we have record that the three abbots delegated by the chapter had indeed granted paternity to Buildwas, but had drawn back from making this a permanent arrangement so as not to offend the abbot of Whitland — a compromise that did not please the king.27 These letters suggest that the problems in 1328 and 1329 revolved around the allegedly ruinous state of Strata Marcella and the question of who was to be responsible for its reform. The problem had involved the patron, the king, the abbots of Cîteaux and Clairvaux, and the Cistercian general chapter: the only players in the drama who did not yet, apparently, have a voice were the monks themselves. It is notable that the patron, John de Charlton, looked to royal authority for backing in the resolution of his complaint, but he was also in correspondence with the Cistercian general chapter, and had designated a monk — presumably of Strata Marcella but possibly of Buildwas — to journey to the chapter to convey his anxieties. The king, too, was fully aware of the administrative machinery of the Cistercian order and prepared to work within its structures, addressing his requests to the abbots of Cîteaux, the general chapter, and the abbot of Clairvaux, the mother house of Whitland. Significantly, however, while apparently respecting them, both John de Charlton as patron, and the king, attempted to interfere with, or dislocate, Cistercian procedures. Tensions persisted, however, and subsequent letters indicate a shifting of the grounds for complaint. Here we move to the second phase of the narrative. In August 1330, King Edward III repeated his urgent request to the general chapter of the Cistercian order, and the abbots of Cîteaux and of Clairvaux, that paternity over Strata Marcella, currently affiliated to Whitland, be granted to Buildwas. The royal letter added further details to the alleged problems. Whitland, it states, ‘is situate in Wales and is ruled by the levity of the Welsh, and by the negligence and carelessness of the abbots of that place the abbey of Ystrad Marchell is wasted in goods and possessions and is reduced as it were to nothing’.28 It is noticeable that blame for the state of affairs at Strata Marcella, implicit in earlier documents, is now placed squarely at Whitland’s door. Moreover, the king continues, at Strata Marcella there is no regular observance, and ‘unlawful assemblies to excite contentions and hatred between the English and Welsh have been entered into there’. The king repeats his disquiet 27 

Calendar of the Close Rolls, 1327–1330, pp. 567–68. The king spoke again of the irreligiositas of both Strata Marcella and Whitland and demanded a permanent severing of the relationship between them. 28  Calendar of the Close Rolls, 1330–1333, p. 150. The word levitas is perhaps more appropriately translated as ‘fickleness’.

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at the decision of the chapter to grant paternity to Buildwas only in the short term, claiming this would not lead to the reformation of the house and that ‘the perils that might arise of such assemblies through the contumacy of the Welsh cannot thus be avoided’. The business now appears to be taking on a decidedly political dimension: the complaint of John de Charlton and through him of the king seems now to be less about the financial state of the house than about the ethnic and political loyalties of the Welsh monks of Whitland and — by implication — of its second daughter house. It may be recalled that in 1328 there had been a demand for the specific removal of the Welsh monks of Strata Marcella. The evidence suggests that in 1330 what may have earlier been seen as passive sympathy with ‘Welshness’ — cultural, ethnic, linguistic, or political identity — had taken a more active form, with the abbey allegedly providing the venue for ‘unlawful assemblies’ designed ‘to excite contentions and hatred’. It may be argued that it was this alleged pro-active demonstration of community and identity — rather than the greater proximity of Buildwas to Strata Marcella or any neglect by Whitland because of the expense of visitation — that was the dynamic behind the attempt to replace the jurisdiction of a Welsh father abbot with that of an English one. It is instructive here to recall the political context, which was John de Charlton’s attempt to secure his claims to the lordship against the last males of the dynasty of southern Powys and the line of Owain Cyfeiliog and Gwenwynwyn. More specifically it was precisely in these years — between 1327 and 1331 — that the disputes between John de Charlton and Gruffudd de la Pole were at their height; 1330, indeed, saw them raising troops against each other.29 There was, it would seem, a clear connection between the political struggle for control in Powys and complaints against the Welshness of Strata Marcella and its Welsh mother house. Between 1328–29 and 1330 the ground had shifted from concern about the financial state of Strata Marcella and Whitland’s neglect of its duty of visitation, to continued dereliction by the mother house, which was under Welsh control, and Strata Marcella’s provision of a venue for Welsh discontents. By 1333, a third issue had emerged to trouble further the relationship between abbey and patron, and this was the question of the election of an abbot.30 A letter from the king in that year allows us to date an otherwise undated petition surviving in the National Archives, and furnishes a momentary glance of the ‘lived experience’ of 29  Mason, ‘Charlton, John, First Lord Charlton of Powys (d. 1353)’; Morgan, ‘The Barony of Powys’, pp. 29–30; Stephenson, ‘Crisis and Continuity’, pp. 60–65. 30  Brief mention of the following incident, but with no analysis, appears in Williams, Welsh Cistercians, pp. 43–44. See the discussion in Stephenson, ‘Crisis and Continuity’, p. 64.

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the monks.31 The petition comes from Abbot Matthew of Strata Marcella, who stated that his election had taken place in the church of Valle Crucis (daughter house of Strata Marcella), by the commission of the abbot of Clairvaux, in the presence of the abbots of Cymer and Valle Crucis, and with the assent of the convent of Strata Marcella.32 Cistercian regulations, particularly the Carta caritatis, demanded election of an abbot by the community under the supervision of the father abbot or his proxy.33 Here, on the Welsh borders, in 1333, we find the election supervised not by the father abbot of Whitland, but by the delegates of his father abbot of Clairvaux, two Welsh Cistercian abbots, one of them the abbot of Strata Marcella’s own daughter house where the election took place. The Cistercian regulation was designed to exclude any kind of lay or patronal intervention, and this is precisely what the patron, John de Charlton, seems to have been trying to exert. Matthew’s petition tells of how the election took place at Valle Crucis because of the monks’ desire to escape the intervention of John de Charlton, and of John’s opposition to the election, which was ‘contrary to the statutes of our order’. Matthew was not afraid to appeal to royal authority as well as that of the Cistercian hierarchy, citing the king’s royal right to have sovereign keeping of his churches (‘comme de son droit reaul il doiue auoir le soueraine garde de ses eglises’), and requesting him to demand the withdrawal of John and his armed men who have now been occupying the abbey for fifteen days. The petition urged the king to restore the convent to its home to enable the monks to pray for the king, the queen, their children, and the good state of the realm. Even more vivid, perhaps, was the petition to the king in support of Abbot Matthew made by the delegates of the abbot of Clairvaux, who had overseen the election (‘ses poures chapelains pierres moines at commissair’ de son humble chapelain labbe de Clerevaux’; his poor chaplains, fathers, monks, and delegates of his humble chaplain the abbot of Clairvaux).34 Sir John de Charlton, they 31  Calendar of the Close Rolls, 1333–1337, pp. 93–94, a letter of 28 February 1333 from the king to John de Charlton. 32  London, The National Archives, SC 8/239/11937; English calendar in Ancient Petitions, pp. 400–01, where dated between 1329 and 1333. 33  Carta caritatis prior, XI, required the election of an abbot in the presence of and with the advice of the abbot of the mother house; Carta caritatis posterior required that administration of the vacant abbey pass to the father abbot, who was to advise the electors, who in turn included the abbots of any daughter houses of the vacant abbey: Narrative and Legislative Texts from Early Cîteaux, ed. and trans. by Waddell, pp. 450–51, 501–02. 34  London, The National Archives, SC 8/248/12354; English calendar in Calendar of Ancient Petitions, ed. by Rees, pp. 411–12, which reads ‘pierres’ (fathers) as ‘Piere’ (Peter).

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stated, threatened loss of life and limb were they to try to enter his lands, and had made even bolder claims: ‘Je suis papes, Je suis roys et euesque et abbes en ma terre’; ‘lesqelles paroles’, they added, ‘sont contre loneur de nostre seigneur’ (I am pope, I am king and bishop and abbot in my land […] which words are against the honour of our lord [the king]).35 The king’s letter of February 1333 rehearsed the contents of Matthew’s petition, and added the further detail that the vacancy at Strata Marcella had been caused by the death of Matthew’s predecessor, Gruffudd.36 It records that John ‘pretending that such election ought not to be made within his lordship without his consent, although such assent ought not to be required’, had entered Strata Marcella with armed men while the prior and convent were at Valle Crucis and seized it and its lands by force. After further rehearsal of the narrative of events, the king ordered John to withdraw, but made one more attempt to persuade the general chapter to appoint the abbot of Buildwas to visit the abbey, which was — once more — said to be wasted for lack of good governance. Again, it is instructive to place this episode in its wider political context. Gruffudd de la Pole died some time after March 1332. He left no son, and a portion of his lands in Mechain, Dinas, passed to his wife’s brother, Thomas ap Rhodri, nephew of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd (d. 1282) of Gwynedd.37 Thomas took up the struggle against John de Charlton who, the following year, is to be found intervening in the election of an abbot of the Powysian dynastic abbey. And so ends this rather brief narrative and this snapshot of life at Strata Marcella in these short few years. What are we to make of it? A number of important points emerge. One is that the Cistercian order, as an international body, was alive and well in fourteenth-century Wales, and was recognized as an arbiter in things Cistercian. The English king was prepared to — and perhaps expected to — work through its structures even if he did not always approve its decisions and even tried to intervene in its procedures. These episodes furnish a useful contribution to the debate about the nature of the Cistercian order 35 

London, The National Archives, SC 8/248/12354. Calendar of the Close Rolls, 1333–1337, pp. 93–94. It is possible that Gruffudd/Griffin was the unnamed abbot of Strata Marcella who was among those who on 21 January 1331 received royal protection for two years to journey to Compostela: Calendar of the Patent Rolls, 1330–1334, p. 43. Gruffudd was abbot when John de Charlton is alleged to have deprived the abbot and monks of their customary right to hold a court for their tenants: see The Charters of Ystrad Marchell, ed. by Thomas, pp. 228–29 (no. 88: charter of John’s grandson, John, dated 1367). 37  Morgan, ‘The Barony of Powys’, p. 30. 36 

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in the later Middle Ages.38 Second, there was clearly a problematic relationship between the abbey’s English patron John de Charlton and the monks. It is surely no coincidence that complaints about Strata Marcella and its Welsh mother house of Whitland, which began with accusations of financial mismanagement and ruin, and led on to assertions about direct political action, and then to attempts by John to manipulate the election of an abbot, coincided with political rivalry for the lordship. The strong implications are that the monks of Strata Marcella still supported the family of their founder, who died among them over 130 years earlier and whose tomb they would have seen daily. We can see here the monks acting not just as political activists in the present, but custodians of memory and identity. It is striking that it was in precisely these early decades of the fourteenth century that the monks of Strata Marcella’s daughter house, Valle Crucis, who hosted Abbot Matthew’s election in 1333, were the ones who in the wake of the defeat of the last native rulers of Wales, Llywelyn and Dafydd ap Gruffudd, kept alive, in the Welsh language, the Brut y Tywysogion, the chronicle of the Welsh princes.39 Despite the particular political circumstances of the 1320s and 1330s that produced these tensions in a border abbey in southern Powys, such incidents were not unique. Although when men proceeded from the noviciate to take their monastic vows they renounced their former lives, they did not live in isolation from the political, social, and cultural world around them. They retained their ethnic and linguistic identities and must have been all too aware of life outside the monastery walls. In border abbeys — whether on the frontier of England and Wales or between Pura Wallia and Marchia Wallia — recruitment from different social and ethnic groups carried their dangers. Was it to maintain a balance with the monastery and to ease the potential for conflict, perhaps, that in 1220 the Cistercian general chapter put a limit on the number of English and Irish monks at Whitland Abbey?40 The troubles at Strata Marcella did not end in the 1330s but surfaced again two decades later. A letter from Simon Islip, archbishop of Canterbury, dated November 1352, to the 38 

On which issue see, for instance, Jamroziak, The Cistercian Order in Medi­eval Europe, pp. 238–84. 39  Stephenson, ‘Rulers of Gwynedd and Powys’, p.  90; Charles-Edwards and CharlesEdwards, ‘The Continuation of the Brut y Tywysogion in Peniarth MS. 20’. 40  Statuta, ed. by Canivez, i, 521 (1220/22). The role of monasteries in border societies has attracted recent attention from scholars. See, for instance, the essays in Monasteries on the Borders of Medi­eval Europe, ed. by Jamroziak and Stöber, and Jamroziak, Survival and Success on Medi­eval Borders.

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bishop of St Asaph, provides evidence of complaints by the abbot of Cîteaux and the diffinitors of the general chapter. Their allegation was that, in defiance of the role of the abbot of Clairvaux as father abbot — without intermediary — of the house of Strata Marcella, the heads of Strata Florida, Cwmhir, and Valle Crucis, had forced the resignation of the abbot of Strata Marcella and intruded the abbot of Cwmhir in his place. They had, moreover, expelled any monks who refused their due obedience to him. Such were the tensions in a border abbey.41 Finally, apart from Abbot Matthew’s petition, this narrative is told almost exclusively from the English side. This skewed historio­graphy has persisted. The account of John de Charlton in the Oxford Dictionary of National Bio­g raphy states — almost as a footnote to his military and political activities — that he ‘showed zeal for the reformation of the corrupt Cistercians of Strata Marcella’.42 It seems that the author had fallen victim to the same propaganda pushed by John de Charlton to the king — that is, that the house of Strata Marcella was in need of reform — and had not considered that for ‘corruption’ we might read assertion of identity and community, and upholding of cultural and linguistic traditions, which the Cistercians, as an international order, seemed quite capable of accommodating within their own global structure.

41 

London, Lambeth Palace Library, Register of Archbishop Simon Islip, fol. 60r–v; see also Janet Burton, ‘Authority and Conflict at the Cistercian Abbey of Strata Florida’ (p. 405). 42  Mason, ‘Charlton, John, First Lord Charlton of Powys (d. 1353)’. A similar sentiment is expressed by Marjorie Chibnall, ‘The Abbey of Buildwas’, p. 55, in a brief account of the affair. It is, she wrote, ‘clear that Strata Marcella was not only lacking in regular observance but was also a hotbed of conspiracy against the English’.

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Works Cited Manu­scripts and Archival Sources London, Lambeth Palace Library, Register of Archbishop Simon Islip London, The National Archives, SC 8/239/11937 —— , SC 8/248/12354 —— , SC 8/308/15389

Primary Sources The Acts of Welsh Rulers, 1120–1283, ed.  by Huw Pryce with the assistance of Charles Insley (Cardiff: Uni­ver­sity of Wales Press, 2005) ‘Brut y Tywysogion’, or, the ‘Chronicle of the Princes’, Peniarth MS 20 Version, ed. by Thomas Jones (Cardiff: Uni­ver­sity of Wales Press, 1952) ‘Brut y Tywysogion’, or, the ‘Chronicle of the Princes’, Red Book of Hergest Version, ed. by Thomas Jones (Cardiff: Uni­ver­sity of Wales Press, 1955) Calendar of Ancient Petitions Relating to Wales, ed. by William Rees (Cardiff: Uni­ver­sity of Wales, 1975) Calendar of the Close Rolls Preserved in the Public Record Office (London: HMSO, 1900–) Calendar of the Patent Rolls Preserved in the Public Record Office (London: HMSO, 1891–) The Charters of the Abbey of Ystrad Marchell, ed. by Graham C. G. Thomas (Aberystwyth: National Library of Wales, 1997) Giraldus Cambrensis, Gerald of Wales, ‘The Journey through Wales’ / ‘The Description of Wales’, trans. by Lewis Thorpe (London: Penguin, 1978) —— , Giraldi Cambrensis opera, ed. by John S. Brewer, James F. Dimock, and George F. Warner, Rolls Series, 8  vols (London: Longman, Green, Longman and Roberts, 1861–91) Narrative and Legislative Texts from Early Cîteaux, ed. and trans. by Chysogonus Waddell, Studia et documenta, 9 (Cîteaux: Commentarii Cistercienses, 1999) Statuta capitulorum generalium ordinis Cisterciensis ab anno 1116 ad annum 1786, ed. by Joseph-Marie Canivez, 8 vols (Louvain: Bureaux de la Revue, 1933–41) The Welsh Assize Roll, 1277–1284, ed. by James Conway Davies (Cardiff: Uni­ver­sity of Wales Press, 1940)

Secondary Works Arnold, Chris J., ‘Strata Marcella: The Archaeo­logical Investigations of 1890 and the Results of a Geophysical Survey in 1990’, Montgomeryshire Collections, 80 (1992), 88–94 Burton, Janet, ‘Authority and Conflict at the Cistercian Abbey of Strata Florida’, Welsh History Review, 29 (2009), 377–407

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—— , ‘The Cistercians in Marchia Wallia and Pura Wallia: Monasteries, Communities, and Identities’, in Cistercians and Regular Canons in Medi­eval Western Europe, ed. by Claude Evans and Paul Evans (forthcoming) Burton, Janet, and Karen Stöber, eds, Monastic Wales: New Approaches (Cardiff: Uni­ver­ sity of Wales Press, 2013) —— , Abbeys and Priories of Medi­eval Wales (Cardiff: Uni­ver­sity of Wales Press, 2015) Charles-Edwards, Gifford, and Thomas M. Charles-Edwards, ‘The Continuation of the Brut y Tywysogion in Peniarth MS. 20’, in Essays and Poems Presented to Daniel Huws, ed. by Tegwyn Jones and Edmund B. Fryde (Aberystwyth: National Library of Wales, 1994), pp. 293–305 Chibnall, Marjorie, ‘The Abbey of Buildwas’, in The Victoria History of the County of Shropshire, ed.  by Alexander  T. Gaydon and Ralph B. Pugh, The Victoria County History of the Counties of England (Oxford: Oxford Uni­ver­sity Press for the Institute of Historical Research, 1973), ii, 50–59 Jamroziak, Emilia, Survival and Success on Medi­eval Borders: Cistercian Houses in Medi­eval Scotland and Pomerania from the Twelfth to the Late Fourteenth Century (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011) —— , The Cistercian Order in Medi­eval Europe, 1090–1500 (London: Routledge, 2013) Jamroziak, Emilia, and Karen Stöber, eds, Monasteries on the Borders of Medi­eval Europe: Conflict and Cultural Interaction (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013) Lieberman, Max, The Medi­eval March of Wales: The Creation and Perception of a Frontier (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 2010) Mason, J.  F.  A., ‘Charlton, John, First Lord Charlton of Powys (d.  1353)’, in Oxford Dictionary of National Bio­graphy (Oxford: Oxford Uni­ver­sity Press, 2004) [accessed 2 March 2016] Morgan, Richard, ‘The Barony of Powys 1275–1360’, Welsh History Review, 10 (1980), 1–42 Robinson, David, The Cistercians in Wales: Architecture and Archaeo­logy, 1130–1540, Society of Antiquaries of London, Research Committee Report (London: Society of Antiquaries, 2006) Stephenson, David, ‘The Politics of Powys Wenwynwyn in the Thirteenth Century’, Cam­ bridge Medi­eval Celtic Studies, 7 (1984), 39–61 —— , ‘The Rulers of Gwynedd and Powys’, in Monastic Wales: New Approaches, ed.  by Janet Burton and Karen Stöber (Cardiff: Uni­ver­sity of Wales Press, 2013), pp. 89–103 —— , ‘Crisis and Continuity in a Fourteenth-Century Welsh Lordship: The Struggle for Powys, 1312–32’, Cambrian Medi­eval Celtic Studies, 66 (2013), 57–78 —— , Medi­eval Powys: The Kingdom, Principality and Lordships, 1132–1293 (Rochester: Boydell, 2016) Tock, Benoît-Michel, ‘Les foundations anglaise et galloise de l’abbaye de Vaucelles’, Revue du nord, 93 (2011), 795–814 Tout, Thomas Frederick, ‘Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn (d.  1286)’, rev. by A.  D. Carr, in Oxford Dictionary of National Bio­graphy (Oxford: Oxford Uni­ver­sity Press, 2004) [accessed 2 March 2016]

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—— , ‘Gwenwynwyn (d. 1216)?’, rev. by A. D. Carr, in Oxford Dictionary of National Bio­ graphy (Oxford: Oxford Uni­ver­sity Press, 2004) [accessed 2 March 2016] —— , ‘Owain Cyfeiliog (d. 1197)’, rev. by Gruffydd Aled Williams, in Oxford Dictionary of National Bio­g raphy (Oxford: Oxford Uni­v er­s ity Press, 2004)  [accessed 2 March 2016] Williams, David, The Welsh Cistercians (Leominster: Gracewing, 2001)

The Blackfriars of Trim, Co. Meath and the Legacy of Geoffrey de Geneville Finola O’Carroll

O

n the north side of the town of Trim, Co. Meath in a field surrounded on all sides by housing and shops are a few pieces of tumbled masonry, until recently barely visible above the long grass. The distinct unevenness of the ground that suggests the presence of more extensive remains, a townland name, and the legend ‘Black Friary’ beside them, is all that remains above ground of the Dominican priory of St  Mary of the Assumption, founded in 1263 and commonly known as the Black Friary.1 It is hoped that the research excavations at this site will contribute to the aims of the Monastic Ireland Project that aims to re-evaluate the place of monastic and mendicant buildings within the medi­eval Irish landscape, and especially their role in forming medi­eval urban (and rural) landscapes and settlement patterns. Excavations began at the Black Friary in 2010 and the results to date together with both the physical and historical context of the site are detailed in this paper. The findings, along with commentary on the likely patron of the friary and his legacy as expressed through this foundation, are also discussed. The excavations themselves, directed by the author, are run for teaching and research purposes and form part of the work of the Blackfriary Archaeo­logy Field School (BAFS).2 1 

Hibernia Dominicana, ed. by Burke, pp. 262–64; Conwell, ‘A Ramble round Trim’, p. 28. BAFS was founded in 2017 by the author, Laura Corrway, and Ian Kinch, to focus research and teaching excavations specifically on the work at Blackfriary. The excavations were 2 

Finola O’Carroll ([email protected]) is a co-founder of the Blackfriary Archaeo­logy Field School. Her research interests include metalworking and crafts in the Irish Bronze Age, medi­eval landscapes, and monastic sites. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 121–153 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117261

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Map 5.1. Map of Trim with the Dominican priory located on the north side of town. Aerial image created by Laura Corrway and based on Google Maps.

The surviving references in the Book of Armagh suggest that the church of Trim may have been founded as early as the fifth century, and was possibly contemporary with or even before the founding of the church of Armagh.3 The successors of the founder, St Lomán, are variously accorded the title ‘abbot’ or ‘bishop’ in the annals until the diocese of Trim was united with the diocese of Meath in 1152.4 The later emergence of Trim as the centre of a Norman lordship reflects a common pattern of Norman colonization in Ireland, which involved the utilization of pre-existing church and monastic sites as foci for nucleated settlement, and the establishment of fortified centres situated at strategically begun under the auspices of the Irish Archaeo­logy Field School, founded by the author and Dr Stephen Mandal to provide training and education in fieldwork methods for students from around the world. Since 2011 Dr Rachel Scott, of DePaul Uni­ver­sity, Chicago, has been the project bio-archaeo­logist, with responsibility for the research into the human remains which are excavated as part of the project. 3  St Patrick’s Church of Ireland cathedral, incorporating the remains of a medi­eval church has yielded burial evidence datable to the fifth/early sixth century ad thus making a strong claim to be the site of the monastery of St Lomán; see Potterton and Seaver, eds, Uncovering Medi­eval Trim, table 1.1; see also Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, pp. 34–57. 4  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim.

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significant major river crossings.5 At the time of the arrival of the Normans in Ireland church settlements such as Trim had to some extent already taken on the function of nucleated settlements. The history and the development of Trim as the caput of the liberty of Meath have been documented in recent years6 and the archaeo­logy of the town has been the focus of recent detailed studies.7 The castle, which has seen significant archaeo­logical excavations,8 continues to dominate the public imagination as the principal historic site in Trim, but perhaps the current research excavations underway at the site of the Dominican friary will provide a counterbalance to the dominance of the castle, onetime seat of the Norman lord, Geoffrey de Geneville.

Geoffrey de Geneville The Dominicans came to Ireland in 1224 and are believed to have founded houses in Dublin and Drogheda, possibly in the same year.9 By 1262, there were sixteen foundations in existence,10 and Trim was the seventeenth. While the date of the foundation seems to be secure,11 and the patron is usually accepted as being Geoffrey de Geneville,12 then governor of Trim through his marriage to Matilda de Lacy, he is not actually cited as patron or founder in any medi­ eval source. There is no founder cited for the friary in Trim in the list dating to

5 

Graham, ‘The Evolution of the Settlement Pattern of Anglo-Norman East Meath’. Bradley, ‘The Medi­eval Towns of County Meath’; Hennessy, Irish Historic Towns Atlas, xiv: Trim. 7  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim; Potterton and Seaver, eds, Uncovering Medi­eval Trim. 8  Sweetman, ‘Archaeo­logical Excavations at Trim Castle’; Hayden, ed., Trim Castle, Co. Meath, Excavations. 9  Williams, ‘The Arrival of the Dominicans in Ireland in 1224’ has argued that the pace of Dominican foundations was typically much slower than thought previously, and that significant elements had to be in place before a foundation was approved. 10  Gwynn and Hadcock, Medi­eval Religious Houses Ireland. 11  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, p. 319 n. 69 references the surviving fragment of the register of the Trim friary (Dublin, Trinity College Dublin, MS 579/2, fols 343, 345; Oxford, Bodl. Lib., MS Rawlinson B, 484, fol. 36; BL, MS Add. 4789, fols 206–207). See also Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, p. 327. 12  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, especially pp. 319–21. Hartland also accepts de Geneville as the founder; see Hartland, ‘Vaulcoleurs, Ludlow and Trim’, p. 467. 6 

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1647 published by Fenning,13 and he quotes the decision of the intermediate provincial chapter held at Cork in 1640 ‘that priors should hold precedence among themselves according to the antiquity of their convents as set forth in a certain old manu­script collected by Sir James Ware’.14 It is apparent that the name(s) of the patron(s) of Trim were lost by the late sixteenth or early seventeenth centuries. Nonetheless, it is essential to consider Geoffrey de Geneville’s career and his relationship with Trim. He was born c. 1226, the second son of Simon de Joinville, hereditary seneschal of Champagne, and brother of Jean de Joinville, bio­g rapher of Louis IX of France. As the second son, he was Lord of Vaucoleurs in Champagne. His marriage to Matilda de Lacy in 1252 brought him her half of the de Lacy inheritance including lands in Ireland.15 His decision in later years to focus his energies principally on the estates he held in Meath, in right of his wife, as opposed to those in Wales or in France, may be explained partially by events on the wider European stage.16 Until 1285, Champagne was part of the Holy Roman Empire while it later became de facto part of France, to whose king it now owed taxes and military service.17 Holding land across several jurisdictions may have been increasingly fraught and the decision to hand over the de Lacy lands in the Welsh Marches to his eldest son Peter and the Vaucoleurs estates to his second son Walter,18 may have been a recognition of that fact.19 Considerable energies were expended by Geoffrey on maintaining and defending his Irish territories, from both the Irish and especially the Dublin authorities who wished to curtail the privileges of the liberty of Trim.20 He may well have invested time and energy 13 

Fenning, ‘Founders of Irish Dominican Friaries’. See Fenning, ‘Founders of Irish Dominican Friaries’, p. 56. 15  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, p. 80. 16  Hartland, ‘Vaulcoleurs, Ludlow and Trim’; Potterton, Medi­eval Trim. 17  Hartland, ‘Vaulcoleurs, Ludlow and Trim’, p. 468. 18  Bonnefoy, ‘The Cosmopolitan Children of Sir Geoffrey de Geneville’ has shown that contrary to accepted thinking de Geneville held Vaulcoleurs with Walter, and did not hand it over to him. Walter died in 1303. 19  Bonnefoy ‘The Cosmopolitan Children of Sir Geoffrey de Geneville’ has documented the career of Geoffrey’s surviving sons and posits that the demands of military service might also have been a risk that Geoffrey was unwilling to take, as he might be in direct conflict with the interests of Edward I. 20  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, deals in considerable detail with the difficulties experienced by de Geneville in keeping secure the de Lacy territories, rights, and privileges. 14 

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in developing the town of Trim, which was the caput of the liberty, as that part of the de Lacy inheritance which Matilda inherited was now called. It is known that he carried out extensive renovations to Trim Castle, which have been detailed by Alan Hayden; 21 and Seán Duffy has charted the periods when de Geneville and his wife were in residence, and therefore likely to have commissioned works to improve the castle, and the town.22 Duffy notes that the decade between 1256 and 1266 was probably the first extensive period that the couple spent in Trim, and as this coincides with the foundation date given for the Dominican friary, it strengthens the claim that de Geneville was its patron. Duffy argues that de Geneville’s absence from the records during the period between 1284 and 1294 may have been due to a prolonged stay in Trim, and this may have also coincided with work carried out both at the castle and the friary. It is also in this period that he sought and was granted the right to levy tolls in order to enclose the town of Trim. This murage grant, the first to be levied in Trim, was to last for seven years.23 It is well documented that in 1308, and following both the death of his wife Matilda in 1304, and his success in handing over the de Lacy estates in Meath to his granddaughter Joan, wife of Roger Mortimer,24 he retired to the house of the Friars Preachers in Trim. This has been recorded under the year 1308 in the text of Pembridge’s Chronicle written in the late fourteenth century (TCD MS 583), where it states that he entered the order and further in 1314, his death is recorded thus ‘Item, lord and friar, Geoffrey de Geneville, died on 12 kalends November and was buried in his order of Friars Preachers of Trim: he was the lord of the liberty of Meath’.25 Perhaps unsurprisingly, de Geneville’s death is also noted, albeit with an incorrect date, in the Register of Athenry, a chronicle of the Friars Preachers.26 What is remarkable is the somewhat laconic note that states that he had seemingly expended the very considerable sum of 12,000 marks on the friary: 21 

Hayden, ed., Trim Castle, pp. 191–216. Duffy, ‘The “Key of the Pale”’, pp. 13–15. 23  Duffy, ‘The “Key of the Pale”’, p. 14; Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, p. 168. 24  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, p. 89; Duffy, ‘The “Key of the Pale”’, p. 14. 25  Williams ‘The Dominican Annals of Dublin’, pp. 158–59; I am extremely grateful to Dr Williams for her many discussions about de Geneville and the annalistic references to him. I am also grateful to her for the translation of the above entry from Pembridge’s Chronicle, Dublin, Trinity College Dublin, MS 583. 26  ‘Regestum monasterii fratrum praedicatorum de Athenry’, ed. by Coleman, p. 214. 22 

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Obitus domini Galfridi de Genfyl qui fuit dominis Mediae et potuit expendere duo decim millia marcarum qui suis ultimis diebus factus est frater ordinis de Praedicatorum in conventu de Truym Anno Domini 1301.27 (The obit of Geoffrey de Geneville, who was Lord of Meath, spent 12,000 marks and was in the last days a brother of the Order of Preachers in the convent of Trim, 1301)

As Potterton has remarked, ‘it is not clear what this very large sum of money was spent on’.28 It is particularly difficult to ascribe a current value to sums of money listed in the medi­eval period, but the figure is roughly an equivalent to somewhere between today’s 3.5 and 4.5 million euro.29 So this raises the question: if this record has any basis in fact, on what did de Geneville spend that enormous amount of money?

The Black Friary The Dominican priory of St Mary of the Assumption, from here on the ‘Black Friary’, is located on the north side of the town of Trim, on the opposite side of the River Boyne and some distance from the castle, on slightly elevated ground at 63 m OD (Fig. 5.1). The land continues to rise very gently to the north-west from the friary along the Athboy and Kells roads. Southwards the terrain falls gradually and then more steeply from the Black Friary into the town towards the River Boyne. The banks of the river are at 54 m OD, and other key points in the town are approximately 63 m OD: the interior ground in the castle, the knoll on which St Patrick’s Cathedral sits, and the remains of the Augustinian priory of St Mary which overlooks the river. The Black Friary site is located within a large field which is bounded to the north and east by developments built in the 1980s and to the west by local authority houses built during the 1930s. The site is in the ownership of the local authority, Meath County Council, and occupies an area of about 2.4 hectares (about 6 acres), which was covered with uncultivated grass and scrub, and is now managed, with part being transformed into a garden.30 27 

‘Regestum monasterii fratrum praedicatorum de Athenry’, ed. by Coleman, p. 214, where he states at pp. 201–02 that the section was compiled sometime in the mid-fifteenth century. 28  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, p. 321. 29  [accessed 1 February 2019]. 30  The community organization (BCHAP) of which the excavation is part, and a local body working with teenagers (SMART project), with the support of Meath County Council, have worked on transforming part of the site into a herb and flower garden, see [accessed 1 February 2019].

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A distinctive bank and ditch run N/S through the centre of the site, turning west at its northern end and this feature may mark the limits of the friary precinct to the east, with the remaining area occupied by associated small fields or kitchen gardens.

The Black Friary prior to the Commencement of Excavations A description of the priory survives from the records of the 1541 exchequer inquisition which indicates that the standard buildings (church, belfry, cloister, dormitory, three chambers, a kitchen, a pantry, and a stable) are present, though ruinous, and notes that the precinct was 4 acres in extent, and that a total of 72 acres of land was held by the friars.31 The site was sold and seemingly used for farming purposes. Whether the buildings were occupied is not clear, and the Dominicans did return for brief periods during the seventeenth century, before moving to Donore.32 No pictures are known to survive which depict the friary when it still stood, but Bishop Burke, writing in 1756, stated that some years earlier, the original magnificence of the walls of the house and chapel was evident, but since then the stones had been sold and carried away to other buildings.33 This convincingly explains the lack of visible buildings, though the footprint was not entirely eroded. In June and July 1988, Professor William J. Kennedy of Florida Atlantic Uni­ver­sity conducted a geophysical survey consisting of soil resistivity, proton magnetometry surveys, and low altitude, infra-red aerial photo­graphy of that part of the site where the buildings were likely to have been. The survey results showed subsurface features, identified and outlined by Kennedy as foundations of the kitchen, cloisters, living quarters, refectory, tower, chancel, and entrance. While excavations were proposed, they were not undertaken due to logistical reasons, and the site was left undisturbed.34 Because of a street refurbishment project undertaken by Trim Town Council the archaeo­logical consultancy CRDS Ltd35 was contracted to carry out investigations throughout the town. This programme resulted in the discovery of 31 

See Potterton, Medi­eval Trim. Flynn, The Irish Dominicans, pp.  30–31 states that the precinct at Trim is the largest recorded, however Coyne, ‘Archaeo­logical Test Trenching Report’ cites the Desmond Papers which estimate the precinct in Tralee at 5 acres. 32  Fenning, ‘The Dominicans of Trim’; Pochin Mould, The Irish Dominicans. 33  See Conwell, ‘A Ramble round Trim’, p. 3, quoting Hibernia Dominicana, ed. by Burke, p. 264. 34  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim; Seaver, Kelly, and Travers, ‘Burials at the Well’. 35  CRDS Ltd consultancy is owned by Dr Stephen Mandal and the author.

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a large body of new information from several excavations arising out of this monitoring contract, which was subsequently collated together with works carried out by other archaeo­logists at other times throughout the town, and this information was subsequently published.36 As part of this programme archaeo­ logical monitoring was carried out in a laneway which borders the present-day western side of the site. Burials were uncovered in this area, known as Railway Lane at the southern end of the Black Friary site.37 This discovery helped to establish the position of the burial ground and was of benefit when Matthew Seaver, then of CRDS Ltd came to excavate the site. Monitoring of drain-laying on the laneway demonstrated that the graveyard did not extend to the west or north-west of the friary buildings, but was located to the south-west, and must have extended as far as the presumed site of the town wall at the back of what is now Supervalu (a local supermarket). Its eastern extent is unknown as archaeo­ logical investigations had not happened when modern building around the site occurred. The presence in this area of settlement-related features such as a well, along with the burials, indicated expansion of the burial ground into an area previously used for other functions. The articulated skeletons, as well as the disarticulated bones, indicate that at least twelve burials took place in the small part of the graveyard that was excavated. Radiometric dating of one of the burials returned a date spanning the fifteenth century.38 The violent nature of patho­logies noted on two of the articulated burials suggests that some form of conflict had happened at the time. It is likely that at least one of the young men was involved in fighting on more than one occasion, such events being endemic within and outside the town during this period.39 Burials 2, 3, and 4 appear to belong to a single grave fill, possibly suggesting that they date to the same time.40

36  A conference was held in 2008 sponsored by Meath County Council under the aegis of Dr Loreto Guinan, Heritage Officer, the Heritage Council and CRDS Ltd to inform the local population and wider public about archaeo­logical findings in the town. The proceedings were published the following year, Potterton and Seaver, eds, Uncovering Medi­eval Trim. 37  Seaver, Kelly, and Travers, ‘Burials at the Well’. 38  Potterton and Seaver, eds, Uncovering Medi­eval Trim; Seaver, Kelly, and Travers, ‘Burials at the Well’, table 1.1. 39  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, pp. 113, 137. 40  Seaver, Kelly, and Travers, ‘Burials at the Well’.

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Table 5.1. Principal elements of the friary giving their location in the excavations and the years during which they were excavated. Cutting

Part of friary

Year of excavation

1

Church, crossing, and bell tower

2010, 2011, 2013

2

Church, nave, and south aisle

2010, 2013, 2014

3

Church, nave; cloister, ambulatory, and garth

2011 to present

4

Cloister wall

2011

5

Cloister, SW corner

2012, 2014

6

Cloister, NE corner, east range

2012 to present

7

Cloister, NW corner, north and west ranges

2011, 2013 to present

8

Cloister, west wall, and ambulatory

2013, 2014

9

Church, nave, and south aisle

2013–16

10

Church, south aisle, and graveyard

2013 to present

11

Graveyard

2014

12

Boundary ditch and graveyard

2014

Findings from the Field School Excavations: 2010–16 The primary source for this research project is not in the printed or written page, but on and in the ground; standing remains and excavations are the keystone of archaeo­logical endeavour. Archaeo­logical excavations41 at the site have been ongoing since the summer of 2010 and seven seasons have now been completed.42 The following account is a summary of the results to date. An overview of the results is presented, and the decision to excavate in specific areas alluded to where it helps to illustrate the limitations or otherwise of what is known so far. The focus is on the structural remains so as to assess what can be deduced of the form and phasing of the friary. A short discussion on the burial evidence follows, and a brief overview of the associated material culture to date completes this summary. The excavations proceeded by means of setting out cuttings in alignment with the site grid and were chosen to expose key sections of the complex (see table 5.1). Cuttings were opened and were worked by season 41 

All excavations were carried out under Ministerial Consent from the then Department of Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht, issued to the author, and to Meath County Council as owners of the site. The consent number is C420 and the registration number is E4127. 42  For interim reports see O’Carroll, ‘Archaeo­logical Research Excavations at the Black Friary, Trim, Co. Meath’ (2011 and 2014); O’Carroll, Shine, and Scott, ‘Archaeo­logical Report’.

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facilitating the exposure of the principal structural elements. Within each cutting the exposed features are assigned numbers prefixed with the cutting number; artefacts and all samples taken from that cutting are similarly recorded. Occasionally these record numbers are used in this generalized description. In the years since the survey carried out by Kennedy, the site had suffered from illegal dumping and from its use as an access track for building works in the vicinity. It was decided to carry out a second geophysical survey and a topo­ graphical survey; the former was conducted by Ian Elliott and the latter by Niall Lynch for CRDS/IAFS. The topo­graphical survey confirmed Kennedy’s findings that the layout of the buildings was traceable in the ‘earthworks’ which covered the site, but geophysics proved unusable at this point because of the amount of metal and other rubbish dumped on the site and now buried in the topsoil and the long grass. A survey using GPR and resistivity was carried out during the past two seasons by Ashely Green and has brought further detail to light.43 Both Kennedy’s and the IAFS topo­g raphic survey confirmed that the most likely location for the church was to the south of the site, putting it on the southern side of the cloister, a not uncommon position for mendicant churches. In fact, where it can be traced from upstanding remains and from information gleaned from archaeo­logical work where it has been done, of the thirty medi­eval Dominican friaries where the position of the cloister relative to the church can be deduced, eighteen have the church to the south of the cloister, and twelve to the north. Interestingly, of those sites which are regarded as belonging to the first group of foundations, established before 1305, thirteen have churches to the south and six lie to the north of the cloister. Of those that were built after the Black Death, where enough survives, only five churches are located to the south of the cloister, and six to the north.44 Perhaps the influence of the Observant reform is linked to this seeming preference to have the church on the north side, as these foundations were frequently in rural rather than urban locations, and the orientation may not have been as constrained by access issues.45 43  See O’Carroll, Shine, and Scott, ‘Archaeo­logical Report’; further work carried out by Ms Green suggests potential feature(s) within the cloister garth. 44  This information is compiled from the records of the National Monuments Service including excavation reports, together with the observations of Hogan, Kilmallock Dominican Priory, appendix 2; Conlon, ‘Irish Dominican Medi­eval Architecture’. 45  O’Sullivan, In the Company of the Preachers, p. 20 comments that ‘the location of the cloister was largely determined by the need to provide public access to the church’. This is con-

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The Church Excavations began beside the largest visible piece of masonry, which had been identified as the probable remains of spiral stairs.46 This is also one of the highest areas on the site, and several pieces of tumbled masonry could be discerned just beneath the surface. It immediately became apparent that a significant mantle of rubble covered the area and formed the raised areas noted in the surveys. These raised areas resulted from quarrying the walls to salvage the outer facing stones of roughly dressed limestone and discarding the inner rubble cores. It is these piles of rubble which roughly indicate the line of the walls, but generally lie to one side of the original line. The rubble layers consisted of a series of dump layers of fractured limestone chunks, many with mortar adhering to them. Tip lines could be discerned and larger pieces of stone were usually in the lower levels. Up to 1.3 m of rubble lay over the level, which was believed to be the original ground surface prior to destruction, generally indicated also by the presence of large quantities of shattered roof slates. Excavating through this depth of rubble poses its own problems, particularly as there are human remains contained within it, as discussed below. This obviously necessitates slow and careful excavation through the material. The features uncovered in the first cutting (Cutting 1) consisted principally of pieces of in situ walls (fig. 5.1) with associated collapsed masonry. A pair of short N/S running walls parallel to each other and south of the probable spiral stairs were uncovered. These had a mortar and rubble core with roughly dressed facing stones but only the lower courses now remain. They are faced on three sides, to the west, south, and east and each were around 1.15 m wide at the southern end; both extend northwards and run into the deposits beneath the tumbled masonry. The more intact eastern wall (F3) survives to a height of 1.55 m. The gap between the two walls is 1.68 m and both walls splay slightly outwards from north to south with the gap between them correspondingly decreasing slightly. Both were built over a pre-existing E/W wall. On the east face of F3 and about 1 m from its south face there is evidence that there was a section of the wall, now heavily robbed out, which ran E/W from it forming a corner. The junction between the two walls showed that the stones were not well bonded together. The excavation area around these walls was severely sistent with the findings in Ireland where the church is usually placed closest to the populated area, thus if the friary is to the south of the town, the church will usually be to the north, e.g. Carlingford, and vice versa, in Trim. 46  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, p. 330.

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Figure 5.1. The Dominican priory, Trim. North wall of church with projecting plinth of bell tower. Photo by the author.

restricted by the depth of the rubble overburden and the presence of sizeable pieces of collapsed masonry, so there was no access to the northern side and limited access to east or west to fully expose and interpret the features. Cutting 2 was opened to the south-west of Cutting 1. This focused on another large piece of collapsed masonry. It was faced on two sides, and there was a string course of worked stone which angled out from the wall forming a gutter to channel rainwater from the wall. In 2011, Cutting 3 was opened to the west of Cutting 1. This was 8 m E/W × 15 m N/S. The objective was to confirm that we were within the nave of the church and to explore the cloister area. The cutting extended north from where the centre of the nave appeared to lie, northwards across the north wall, extending into the cloister garth. The dwarf wall of the cloister which would have supported the cloister arcade was uncovered, but the rubble overburden and later possible farm-related features made progress and interpretation of the deposits difficult at first. Having removed about 0.7 m of rubble, a level corresponding roughly to the original floor surface was reached and it became apparent that there was very little surviving of the north wall of the church. Instead a foundation trench was exposed running E/W which was between 1.4 m and 1.5 m wide and was cut into undisturbed soil to a depth of 0.5 m. Part of the wall remained in situ in the eastern

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extent of the cutting. There was a rectangular space formed within the wall that contained human remains. Initially thought to be an ossuary, it primarily functioned as a wall tomb. It was open to the south and the opening was 1.98 m long × 0.7 m in depth. The base lay beneath the level of the foundation trench (which was 61.51 m OD), showing that the primary burial was below the foundation level. It is possible to see from this feature that the wall was originally about 0.94 m thick. The wall was constructed of limestone rubble with roughly faced stones, and it was within a foundation trench that was up to 0.6 m wider than the wall, meaning that the wall sat on a plinth of stones. Cutting 1 was extended slightly, and the area to the east and north of the more substantial wall was investigated. It was realized that the E/W wall was a surviving fragment of the north wall of the church, of similar width and construction to that section in Cutting 3. When the foundations were excavated, they proved to be much deeper and more substantial. The base of the foundation trench, which was carefully filled with mostly un-mortared blocks of stone of varying sizes was at 61.11 m OD, meaning that the foundation here was 0.4 m deeper than that in Cutting 3. It had an overall depth of 0.84 m as against a depth of 0.44 m in the nave. It is possible that this difference related to the later insertion of the bell tower. The topo­graphical survey, supported by the LiDAR47 survey, had indicated the probable eastern extent of the church (fig. 5.2 and 5.3), and there is a distinct break in slope and sharp difference in ground levels in this area. There is a significant amount of overburden/rubble and quite possibly large pieces of collapsed masonry, so it is a difficult area to excavate safely. It was decided to establish the western limits of the church first. The same survey showed a N/S running ridge which seemed to suggest the line of the west wall and in 2013, a cutting (Cutting 9, see table 5.1) was opened there. Here, the same pattern of extensive rubble overburden was encountered, a layer of shattered slate indicating the possible original ground level but with the addition of what appeared to be an original mortared surface in the southern part of the cutting. A foundation trench running N/S was uncovered which had been impacted on by later cuts. It was between 1.5 m and 1.7 m wide, and was 0.63 m deep below the top of the natural subsoil, making it deeper than the cut for the north wall in Cutting 3, but shallower than that in Cutting 1. The wall had been entirely 47 

I am grateful to Dr Steve Davis, School of Archaeo­logy, UCD, for drawing my attention to the LiDAR survey commissioned by the Office of Public Works (OPW). I also wish to record my thanks to the OPW for permission to reproduce and use the image.

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Figure 5.2. The Dominican priory, Trim, with the excavated section looking eastwards along the south wall of the south aisle. Remains of a doorway and wall buttresses are visible, with a third buttress exposed in Cutting 2. Photo by the author.

robbed out, and very few of the foundation stones were left in situ. The trench continued further south than would have been expected if the nave was about 8 m wide, but the discovery of a footing for a column abutting the east face of the foundation trench strongly suggested that the south wall had either never existed at this point, or had been taken down and replaced by an arcade. Four seemingly discrete masonry features were uncovered which proved to be buttresses for the now entirely robbed out wall of the south aisle of the church (Cutting 10, immediately south of Cutting 9). This confirmed that there must have been an arcade between this aisle and the nave — a supposition supported by the discovery at the base of the rubble in Cutting 9 of three segments of a circular sandstone column. This column would have been constructed of quarter segments comprising the full round which has an estimated diameter of c. 0.7 m. Between the two westernmost buttress features were the remains of a door jamb and sillstone. The jamb is made of sandstone, with a filleted roll

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flanked by two hollows (fig. 5.2). The sillstone or threshold is composed of a number of limestone pieces, suggesting that the door was moved here from another location within the complex, and a non-matching sill was added to it. Only the eastern jamb survives, and to less than 0.5  m in height. The westernmost buttress feature is reduced to a pad of mortar and is severely damaged. Enough remains to suggest that it formed the corner of the south and west walls of the aisle which may have had buttresses on both walls. The doorway was between this and the next buttress to the east. The second and third buttresses are 1.82 m and 1.83  m in width respectively; they project outwards from the Figure 5.3. The Dominican priory, Trim, south wall, now destroyed, by 0.9 m excavated sections showing the north-west and facing stones survive on both. corner of the cloister wall with the corner buttress exposed. Two fragments of A  fourth, more damaged buttress sillstones and a cloister capital are visible. was uncovered in a southern extenPhoto by Ian Kinch. sion to Cutting 2. From the excavations it is evident that the actual wall was approximately 0.7 m thick. This wall was set into a shallow but broad foundation trench which encompassed both the wall and the buttresses. A pair of post-holes at either side of the trench gave evidence of the scaffolding that must have been used to build the wall. These are the main elements of the church building which have been revealed to date.

The Cloister Five cuttings were opened (table 5.1) to follow the line of the cloister wall and to uncover the south-west, north-west, and north-east corners. Assessing the six exposed sections of the cloister arcade wall it became apparent that the initial impression of a damaged and incomplete wall was erroneous, and that the sur-

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Figure 5.4. The Dominican priory, Trim, excavated sections showing the south-west corner of the cloister with the corner buttress. The ambulatory is visible to the right (west) of the wall. Photo by the author.

viving height of c. 0.3 m is correct. The wall is in general 0.45–0.5 m in width and 0.3 m in height which, where there were surviving fragments of the original sillstones (fig. 5.3) brought the height to 0.37 m above the ambulatory surface. In places the bed of mortar on which the sillstones sat survived (east section, NW corner, SW corner), and it was found that the levels recorded48 varied by only 1.5 cm. The walls are composed of undressed mortared limestone, and in places a foundation plinth is visible, otherwise the wall appears set on the surface of the natural subsoil. In each of the corners a buttress has been uncovered. That section in the south-west corner has been fully excavated and was found to consist of a basal pad of mortar c. 2.16 m × 1.9 m contained within a cut that is flush with the eastern and northern faces of the corner. Sitting on it is a step of mortared stones, 1.12 m × 1.08 m and 0.2 m deep. A second step, 1 m2 in size, sat above it, surmounted by a third, which was flush with the wall, but had its facing stones robbed out. The depth of the buttress was at least 0.5 m (fig. 5.4). In the NW corner the buttress retained its facing stones, 48 

The bed of mortar on the surface of the wall has been recorded where still intact at between 62.255–62.27 m OD.

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Figure 5.5. The Dominican priory, Trim, view of the east range, looking north. The remains of the west wall are visible to the left of day stairs and the ambulatory is located between the wall and the north-east corner of the cloister. The chapter house wall is in the foreground with the remains of the bench footing visible. Photo by the author.

which are sloped or battered, but was not excavated further (fig. 5.3), and in the NE corner the buttress also had its facing stones removed. The ambulatory has been uncovered in the south, west, and east sides. It consists of a metalled path composed of pebbles packed into the subsoil. It has been found, where adjacent walls have survived, to have a uniform width of 2.44 m (8 ft) and a uniform level of 61.95–7 m OD. A highly significant import into the friary are the stones which made up the cloister arcade. While the cloister wall is reasonably intact, the arcade was demolished, although when that happened is not yet clear. However, pieces of worked stones comprising column, capital, column base, and arch fragments have been recovered, many from a post-medi­eval rough stone path which overlay the ambulatory surface on the west side. The column fragments, which are a consistent diameter of 8.5 cm, indicate that the usual late fourteenth- to fifteenth-century ‘dumbbell’ type arcade columns were not employed here, while the capitals show that there were double columns set perpendicularly to the supporting wall. The arch pieces are quite plain, with a simple embellishment of roll mouldings on the front face. Each arch would have been formed from two large pieces, forming a pointed arch. While the form of the columns is not typical of surviving Irish cloisters,49 the stone appears to be even more unusual. 49 

See Stalley, Ireland and Europe in the Middle Ages.

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It is a fossil-rich limestone, dense and heavy and difficult to work, now quite friable, and has been identified as probably being so-called Purbeck marble, from the Isle of Purbeck in Dorset, England.50 A cloister arcade of this stone has not come to light from any other site in Ireland, so this is a singularly momentous find.

The Domestic Ranges To date, the corner of the north and west ranges and a substantial part of the east range have been exposed. This is encompassed by Cutting 6 which is now 17 m N/S × 20 m E/W. The full width of the east range has been uncovered, though excavation is still ongoing throughout the exposed area. The west wall of the east range has been completely robbed out, as has the east wall. There are surviving internal cross walls, and one appears to be the north wall of the chapter house. This has plaster surviving on the north face, and there are traces also on the southern face though this is more eroded. A mound of soil and rubble lies against and parallel to this south face of the wall and is bordered by a line of stones 1.6 m from the wall. It has been interpreted as an internal double step or bench which would have run around the interior walls and provided a footing for seats or benches for the community. The wall and bench project east beyond the line of the east wall of the range, indicating that the chapter house projected outwards to the east. The estimated length of the chapter house internally is 12.87 m (just over 42 ft). Its width is still unknown as the southern part of it still lies beneath significant rubble deposits. It is likely that the sacristy would have been between the church and the chapter house and this too is beneath the rubble. The width of the east range is 8.1–8.20 m externally and 6.4 m internally, with each external wall being about 0.85–0.9 m wide. The east range had an upper storey, as evidenced by the remains of stairs close to the junction of the north and east ranges (fig. 5.5). Three steps survive, and these would have functioned as the day stairs.51 They do not appear to have been bonded into the west wall of the range, which they abut, and therefore they may indicate a later upward expansion of the range. One of the surviving internal walls has proven to be clay-bonded, a feature that is far less rare than previously thought.52 50 

The identification is courtesy of Dr Stephen Mandal. O’Keeffe, Irish Medi­eval Buildings, p. 164. 52  Shirley Markley, personal comment. 51 

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Whether this is another indication of potential phases of building and alteration is unclear. It may be that the internal walls were clay-bonded, and the external, load-bearing walls were lime mortared. Excavations in the seventh season at the junction of the east and north ranges showed that while the south wall of the north range had been removed down to foundation level for the most part, enough evidence survived, particularly in the form of foundation trench cuts, to suggest the probable existence of a doorway in this south wall, facing south down the east ambulatory. At the east side of the range and at the outside junction of the north and east ranges the remains of what may be a corn-drying kiln were excavated. The existence or survival of a west range was uncertain as the west side of the site had been affected by later agricultural activity and the insertion of a laneway behind the 1930s houses, which front onto the Kells Road. In Cutting 7 the remains of the east wall of the west range and the south wall of the north range were uncovered. The walls as they survive were built of mortared limestone and faced with roughly shaped limestone blocks. The faces of the walls were plastered, and plaster survives on the inner face of the south wall and has been conserved in situ. The outer face of the east wall also appears to have been plastered. In the angle between the two walls, and facing south down the ambulatory is a doorway with a stepped entrance. A threshold, consisting of broad flat flagstones sits forward of the line of the south wall, and a line of blocky stones sits on it making a second step. It is possible that this latter feature is a later modification as it forms more of a blocking feature than a step. Given the amount of post-medi­eval interference in the site it is difficult without further excavation to disentangle a possible later activity from an actual medi­eval use. During the 2016 season Cutting 7 was extended to span the north range and to assess the evidence, if any, for a second courtyard north of this. This was indicated as a possibility both by the topo­graphic survey and subsequent LiDAR imagery of the site. The results were very encouraging. The outer face of the north wall of the north range was revealed for a short distance on the west side of the cutting, and two to three courses of the wall seem to survive. Extending north, but further east than the east wall of the west range, are the remains of a well-built wall, 0.75 m wide and up to 0.8 m high, of similar construction to the other walls which survive. The wall does not seem to run exactly perpendicular to the north range, but veers slightly to the east. At its southern end, east face, the wall is only half that width, as if to allow for an alcove of some form, for a distance of at least 1.5 m. At the exposed northern end, it appears that there is an original gap, possibly a doorway. Roughly parallel to this is a narrower wall, which is 1.89 m — narrowing at the north end to 1.78 m. It is 0.42 m wide and

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survives to a height of 0.55 m. This wall is aligned with the cloister arcade wall (west side), and suggests the continuation of a passage through the door in the north range, though this is purely speculative at this point. But the presence of these walls gives credence to the evidence for a second court or cloister indicated by the surveys, but as yet its function is unknown.

The Burial Evidence In this section it is intended simply to describe where burials have occurred and to give an indication of the duration of the burial tradition at the site. To date, human remains have been found within the nave of the church (Cuttings 3 and 9), the cloister garth (Cuttings 3, 5, 7, and 8), the graveyard (Cuttings 10–12), and also within the crossing, that is the area between the nave and the chancel covered by the bell tower (Cutting 1). The latter burial was of infants, one found buried roughly at the floor level, and one within the rubble overburden. During the current excavations over 115 burials have been recorded. Many are represented only by individual skulls, as there has been a great amount of disturbance to graves, principally by the action of repeated grave digging. From the 2008 excavations53 it was known that the graveyard was to the south-west of the church, and it was reasonable to assume that it extended eastwards, possibly as far as the eastern precinct boundary. A total of three cuttings have been opened within the graveyard area; Cutting 11 is immediately south of the 2008 excavations, Cutting 11 and Cutting 12, which lies about 30 m to the south of the chancel, were opened to try to find the boundary between the town and the friary precinct. Cutting 10 is immediately south of the church. Burials have been found in all three areas; that nearest the church has produced the greatest concentration. The burials in Cutting 11 had been severely disturbed by modern activities and no boundary was found, but Cutting 12, lying south of the chancel at the edge of the site provided a surprise. A ditch was located running E/W and has been interpreted as the remains of the town defences.54 Three burials were uncovered here, but two lay south of the ditch, so technically outside the boundary of the friary. The obvious interpretation is that this was a later extension to the graveyard at a time when the ditch went out of use, but the dates returned (table 5.2), 1270–1390 for Burial 78 within

53  54 

Seaver, Kelly, and Travers, ‘Burials at the Well’. O’Carroll, Shine, and Scott, ‘Archaeo­logical Report’.

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the graveyard, and 1220–80 for Burial 80 south of the ditch,55 were unexpected. This date suggests that the individual was buried either prior to, or very shortly after the founding of the friary, but outside its boundaries. Table 5.2. Dates obtained from some of the burials at the Black Friary, Trim. Laboratory Code

Material

Burial No.

Radiocarbon Age BP

Calibrated Age (95.4 % probability) (cal bc/ad)

Wk – 42072

Human bone

6

362 +- 20 BP

ad 1450–1650

Wk – 42073

Human bone

18

265 +-20 BP

ad 1520–1800

Wk – 42074

Human bone

41

255 +- 20 BP

ad 1520–1800

Wk – 42075

64

78

669 +- 20 BP

ad 1270–1390

Wk – 42076

37

80

761 +- 20 BP

ad 1220–80

Wk – 42077

93

OSB 3

625 +- 20 BP

ad 1290–1400

Not surprisingly, burials were uncovered in the nave of the church, and some of these have been dated. As described above a feature in the north wall produced human remains. This wall tomb was used for the primary burial of a woman (OSB 3),56 then reused as an ossuary, holding bone disturbed presumably by grave digging nearby in the nave. These episodes of use appear to have been capped by the interment of an individual (Burial 6) placed on top of the disarticulated bone. In turn, this burial was severely disturbed during the quarrying of the walls, and only the lower legs survived intact. Both burials have been dated: the date for the primary burial is 1290–1400, and that for the final burial is 1450–1640 (see table 5.2). A third burial (Burial 41) from the nave was also dated. This was discovered in Cutting 9, and as the grave fill contained smashed roof-slates, the indications were that the burial dated from the post-dissolution phase or later. The remains were that of a woman and she was buried close to the west wall. The date returned was 1520–1800, clearly suggesting a post-dissolution date. Within the crossing, close to the base of the exposed walls and at the level that probably equates to the original sub-floor level, which was most likely covered in flagstones, an infant burial (Burial 18) was excavated. The position for this burial was not consistent with its having taken place during the time it was 55 

O’Carroll, Shine, and Scott, ‘Archaeo­logical Report’, pp. 36–37. Burial identification courtesy of Dr Scott who has responsibility for research and analysis of all the Trim burials. 56 

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functioning as a friary, so it was presumed to be post-dissolution, and even predemolition. The date returned, 1520–1800, was the same range as Burial 41, and indicates that both burials occurred after the friary went out of use, but before the final dismantling occurred.

Material Culture What of the material culture of the site? There have been over five thousand finds to date of various types and periods. The bulk constitutes fragments of pottery and other domestic items, as well as iron nails. However, a few can be considered specific to the kind of site under discussion and these include some objects which relate to the presence of and indeed the production of books. Two objects possibly of ivory, but more likely bone, were recovered in Cutting 6, in a yard area immediately to the rear of the range. These are small styli-like objects, c. 10 cm in length, with an iron point inserted into the narrower end, while the top is smooth and rounded with incised decoration. These are known from excavations in and around ecclesiastical buildings; one was found in Kells Priory57 and two were found in excavations in Patrick Street, Dublin.58 These are interpreted usually as parchment prickers, objects used to mark the vellum to allow lines to be drawn in preparation for writing. A number of small copper alloy objects have also come to light, again principally in the vicinity of the east range and these are being interpreted as possible manu­ script clasps designed to hold manu­scripts closed by means of a leather strap, which wrapped around the volume and attached to the clasp. These were closed by means of a short stud over which the clasp sat, being perforated at one end. Some fragments of glazed floor tiles were recovered from the vicinity of the chapter house. The patterns are consistent with a late fourteenth- or early fifteenth-century date. Significant amounts of painted plaster have been found throughout the excavated areas of the church and ranges, most of which showed evidence for a simple wash of colour, but a number are polychrome, usually two colours, suggesting the use of some decorative motifs. Painted plaster has been studied extensively by Karena Morton who notes that dating painted plaster ‘can be quite difficult’.59 57 

Hurley and Sheehan, Excavations at the Dominican Priory of St Mary of the Isle, p. 421, fig. 6.96. 58  Hayden and Walsh, ‘Small Finds’, pp. 28, 31–32. 59  Morton, ‘The Wall Painting Fragments’, p. 215.

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One of the most significant findings is the quantity of painted and stained glass recovered. To date over 1600 pieces have been found, and of these, there are eleven survivals of glass still within lead cames — some of these segments over 20 cm in length. The bulk of these are undergoing conservation in the Uni­ver­sity of Cardiff and a detailed study can only begin when conservation is complete.60 From an initial assessment, however, it appears that thirteenthcentury grisaille glass is present, and it is similar in appearance to some pieces from Kells Priory, Co. Kilkenny.61 It is unlikely that window glass was produced in Ireland in the medi­eval period, so it is presumed that this glass is an import.

Discussion In pulling together the information which the excavations have brought to light it becomes clear that the Dominican friary in Trim has a number of unusual attributes. A tentative ground plan has been drawn up (fig. 5.6), and the position of the various elements is based on excavated features combined with the evidence of the topo­graphic and LiDAR surveys. The church is not especially large, although the length of the chancel is not yet known. Overall, the evidence to date both from excavation and survey suggests that the nave and chancel may have been of equal length, that is roughly 23 m from the outer face of the west wall to the west face of the crossing tower, and from the east face of the crossing to the east wall. With the addition of about 4 m for the crossing/bell tower, the overall length is about 50 m. This would be longer than the friary at Sligo,62 for example, and shorter than Kilmallock, Co. Limerick,63 but roughly the same as Cashel, Co. Tipperary. The shape of the tower can be deduced from the spacing of two plinths and the large chunks of collapse. One of these, which was uncovered in Cutting 1, was a section about 3.6 m wide but incomplete, which contained a relieving arch. This may well have come from the north or south face, spanning the two plinths. The remains suggest a tower measuring approximately 8m in width and 4 m in depth. This would be similar to the tower in Carlingford, Co. Louth with a similarly wide chancel arch, as the plinths are only just over 1 m in depth, leaving an opening of about 6 m. The gap between the two plinths in the north wall would have opened directly into 60  These are being conserved as part of an MSc programme supervised by Mr Mike Parkes, Senior Conservator and Ms Jane Henderson, Senior Lecturer in Conservation. 61  Moran, ‘The Window Glass’. 62  Pochin Mould, The Irish Dominicans, p. 37. 63  Hogan, Kilmallock Dominican Priory.

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Figure 5.6. Tentative plan of the Dominican priory in Trim, with a suggested outline of the buildings. Plan drawn by Catherine Bishop and Finola O’Carroll, background LiDAR courtesy of the OPW.

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the cloister’s east ambulatory and there is presumably a second opening from the chancel into the sacristy. However, unlike any of those examples, the west wall of the church in Trim does not extend beyond the western extent of the cloister ambulatory. This is indeed uncommon. In reviewing plans of the surviving upstanding remains,64 where it is possible to determine that relationship, it appears that Trim and Rathfran, Co. Mayo, are the only sites where the west range would have projected further west than the church. Coincidentally, those two friaries have two courts or cloisters, again not a common occurrence in an Irish context. It is also possible that Sligo Abbey had a second court, its east range projects north well beyond the north range, and Ross Errilly, Co. Galway has a second court. In her study of the medi­eval friaries in England and Wales, O’Sullivan notes nine possible examples of double courts among the Dominican friaries.65 It may have been more of an English feature than an Irish one. Another notable feature in Trim is the size of the cloister and the claustral space. With three corners of the arcade wall excavated it can be confidently stated that this is just less than a 20 m × 20 m square. The west side is 19.64 m long and the north side is 19.76 m long (on outside edges, translating to just over 64 ft × 64 ft). The ambulatories as stated are 2.44 m wide (8 ft), thus giving a square of 24.52 m (close to 80 ft) for the claustral space. The cloister was of the pentice or lean-to type and again the vast majority of surviving mendicant cloisters in Ireland are of the more confined and smaller undershot or integrated type. One example of a probable pentice or lean-to cloister is that from St Mary of the Isle’s in Cork, excavated in 1993.66 There are no upstanding remains there, and the site was built over. Excavations in Cork occurred over part of the church, cloister, east and north ranges, and the excavators estimated that the church, on the south side of the cloister was about 50 m in length, the claustral area c. 20 m square and the cloister garth c. 14 m square. The cloister was of the pentice or lean-to type in phase 1 (and the excavator believes it may have had a wooden arcade) but in phase 2, the cloister and east range were modified giving an integrated cloister on this side, but maintaining the leanto form along the south or church side. The size of the cloister garth in Trim, the low arcade wall, the open style of the arcade, and the fact that there was a lean-to roof would have given the cloister a very open feeling, in contrast to that at Sligo, for example, where, like St Mary’s in Cork, the claustral space is 64 

O’Keeffe, Irish Medi­eval Buildings, figs 68–71, has published a useful set of plans of mendicant friaries, and Cistercian and Augustinian abbeys. 65  O’Sullivan, In the Company of the Preachers. 66  Hurley and Sheehan, Excavations at the Dominican Priory of St Mary of the Isle.

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just under 20 m × 20 m, the garth is roughly 14 m × 15 m and the cloister is integrated into the upper storey, though in Sligo the cloister is integrated on all four sides. In the Black Friary the width of the ranges would not be untypical. However, the strict symmetry that seems to apply, not just to the cloister but to the openings into the ambulatory, suggest strongly a carefully planned space that was coherently built. Overall the friary buildings were probably quite plain. There is limited evidence for vaulting from some architectural fragments which have been recovered. These fragments occurred close to the collapsed bell tower, and may indicate vaulting there, or they may have belonged to the transept. Vaulting in the chancel and sacristy were permissible according to the amended Constitutions of the Dominican order relating to architecture, which were passed sometime between 1228 and 1235.67 The determination that their buildings would be modest and humble must sometimes have been a difficult stricture to maintain in light of patrons’ wishes for their benevolence to be visible.68 When we look at how the Black Friary in Trim might have appeared from the outside in the thirteenth century it may well have appeared reasonably spacious, but also quite modest. However, the evidence for stained glass and decorated walls may have run counter to the Constitutional Amendment of 1263, enacted under the master general Humbert of the Romans, where in addition to the existing proscriptions on height and vaulting69 the new constitution states that ‘in our buildings nothing notably enticing or superfluous in sculpture, paintings, pavements or other such similar things should be made that would defile our poverty’.70 One part of this may well have been adhered to, as we have no evidence so far for anything other than a flagged floor in the church. There is a possibility that the chapter house floor may have been tiled, but this may have been laid at a later date. Whatever about the proscriptions, we certainly have stained glass, painted plaster, and a cloister arcade of the high-status material, albeit of simple design. The date of this cloister is as yet unproven, although the ground plan has to 67 

Sundt, ‘Mediocres domos et humiles habeant fratres nostri’, p. 397. Ó Clabaigh, The Friars in Ireland. 69  Sundt, ‘Mediocres domos et humiles habeant fratres nostri’, p. 398 translates the constitution as follows: ‘Let our brothers have moderate and humble houses in such manner that the walls of houses without a loft should not exceed 12 pedes in height and with a loft 20; the church [should not exceed] 30. Neither should it [the church] be vaulted in stone, except perhaps over the choir and sacristy’. 70  Sundt, ‘Mediocres domos et humiles habeant fratres nostri’, p. 401; the original Latin text is given in appendix A, IV: 6–8. 68 

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Figure 5.7. Two pieces of Purbeck marble sliced for thin-sectioning showing red and greenish shades. Photo by the author.

have been contemporary with the original building phase as there is no indication of either expansion or contraction of the floor plan of the friary. The arcade must have been striking; the stone comes in different colours (fig. 5.7) from the beds in the quarries at Purbeck and was highly prized in the medi­eval period.71 In fact, it has been noted that Purbeck marble ‘was used for major piers in the Trinity Chapel of Canterbury Cathedral in 1182, and thenceforth until the Black Death almost every English church of importance included Purbeck marble shafts, bases or string-courses’.72 But despite its prevalence and importance in England, it was little used in Ireland,73 except for monumental sculpture and 71 

Blair in Blair and Ramsey, eds, ‘Purbeck Marble’, p. 42 describes it as follows: ‘Purbeck marble is a polishable fresh-water limestone, characterised by close-packed fossil shells of the water-snail viviparus carinifer. It occurs in various shades ranging from blue-grey to reddishbrown and green, and some beds have a scattering of shells of the fresh-water mussel unio valdensis. The marble lies in a bed, some 18 to 24 inches thick, which needs to be worked from the surface over a wide area’. 72  Blair in Blair and Ramsey, eds, ‘Purbeck Marble’, p. 49. 73  Gittos and Gittos, ‘Irish Purbeck’.

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funerary slabs, one example of which survives in St Patrick’s Cathedral, Trim.74 Two columns identified as fossiliferous limestone were recovered from excavations at the site of St Saviour’s Dominican friary in Dublin.75 One is a very large column described as a thirteenth-century quatrefoil and it appears to have a maximum breadth of c. 0.81 m. The other is a fragment of a slender column shaft. But the quantity of Purbeck marble pieces recovered from Trim to date represents the largest known collection from any site in Ireland.76 The arcade itself is the subject of current research and future publications, and a key issue is its date. Thus far there is no surviving thirteenth-century cloister arcade from a mendicant friary in Ireland. The few surviving arcades of that date mean that comparable parallels are scarce.77 Leask went as far as stating that so few fragments survive, indeed, that the presence of arcades in stone at many monasteries datable to the twelfth and fourteenth centuries is open to doubt. It is quite possible, however, that a timber built, veranda like structure may have served in many cases to give shelter to the ambulatories.78

In 1229, the Dominicans were given the right to bury laity, though the general chapter of 1250 forbade burial inside their churches,79 and this activity was subject to licence from a bishop.80 There were express concerns about sepulchral monuments, which may well have run counter to the wishes of patrons.81 By the general chapter of 1300, the strictures on decoration were effectively easing, and de facto this must have applied also to sepulchral monuments. Nevertheless, burials within the nave and the chancel are known from other medi­e val Dominican friaries in Ireland,82 hence the presence of fourteenth74 

Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, p. 395. McMahon, ‘Archaeo­logical Excavations at the Site for the Four Courts Extension’, figs 18.1 and 6, appendix III; for a description of the location of the column see p. 287. 76  O’Brien, ‘The Importation and Use of Building and Other Stone in Ireland’, p. 123. 77  Montague, ‘The Cloister Arcade’. 78  Leask, Irish Churches and Monastic Building, ii, 139–40. 79  Hinnebusch, The Early English Friars Preachers, pp. 127–28, 322, 327. 80  Ó Clabaigh, The Friars in Ireland, p. 145. 81  Sundt, ‘Mediocres domos et humiles habeant fratres nostri’, pp. 401–02 and appendix C reference where burial in the church was forbidden (1250), sepulchral monuments were especially referenced in 1249 and 1251. 82  Hurley and Sheehan, Excavations at the Dominican Priory of St Mary of the Isle, p. 56; Ó Floinn, ‘Black Abbey, Gardens, Co. Kilkenny: E1096’; Halpin and Buckley, ‘Archaeo­logical Excavations at the Dominican Priory, Drogheda’. 75 

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century burials from within the nave is not unexpected. The indications are, however, that burial continued at the Black Friary in the post-dissolution period, even continuing after the buildings had been quarried out as late as the twentieth century. These later burials are predominantly of infants, and strongly suggest that this now-demolished friary became a children’s burial ground, or cillín.83 It is likely that this was a major factor in preserving the site, although there is no written or verbal account of this practice in the Black Friary. The key question at this stage is what role did Geoffrey de Geneville play in what has been uncovered, and do the discoveries in any way answer the question of whether he left or spent a sum of 12,000 marks on his friary, and if so, what was it spent on? De Geneville clearly was in a position to invite the Dominicans to Trim, and to provide a site for them. He may even have held the site in trust for them, as initially they did not own property, but, as noted by O’Sullivan, ‘the right of property was entrusted to a lay figure who acted as sponsor for the house’.84 The sense that is emerging of an overall, rather large-scale plan which was executed, possibly in more than one phase of building, suggests that this long-term planning reflects the confidence of committed support behind it. A tradition of founding religious institutions was in de Geneville’s family,85 but the choice of Dominicans may have as much to do with the fact that they were an order well favoured by the king. Their position on the edge of the town conforms to the norms of Dominican foundations,86 but it may well have been the only such location available to them. It is known that a suburb already existed outside the Dublin gate,87 and the Navan gate is beside the Augustinian priory of St Mary’s. The remaining gates, Watergate and Sheep’s Gate, were unsuitable sites, the former simply giving on to the river, the latter to commonage. However, it may well have been a deliberately chosen place, designed to extend the town northwards to its boundaries. The location of friaries appears to have been used to help shape the town landscape88 and this may have been part of de Geneville’s overall plan for Trim. The provision of a second court may have been specifically to ensure sufficient accommodation for high-ranking visitors 83 

See Murphy, ‘Children’s Burial Grounds’ for a detailed overview of this practice in Ireland. O’Sullivan, In the Company of the Preachers, p. 3. 85  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, p. 321. 86  O’Keeffe, Irish Medi­eval Buildings, p. 106; Lafaye, ‘Spiritual Renewal and Changing Landscapes’. 87  Stephens, ‘Empty Space’, p. 121. 88  See Lafaye, ‘The Dominicans in Ireland’. 84 

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to the town — there are accounts of the archbishop of Armagh holding his metropolitan visitation in the guesthouse of the friary among other events.89 De Geneville’s association with the friary over a period of fifty-one years means that some of the potential second or third phase works (such as the south aisle, the bell tower, and the transept) may have occurred during his lifetime, although it is generally accepted that side aisles generally date to the late medi­ eval period, probably to the fifteenth century.90 Undoubtedly there were other patrons, for example, the Husseys who were regarded as the original patrons by some scholars,91 and a decline in patronage meant a decline in the capacity of the community to survive, notwithstanding the role of the merchants and townsfolk.92 The relationship between a community of friars and a patron or patrons was hugely important, and an assurance of patronage was a prerequisite for the decision to found a new friary to be reached.93 The long association of de Geneville with the Dominicans in Trim culminating in his entering the friary himself would more than suggest that he was a patron. The style and scale of the friary, and de Geneville’s links with both England and France, may suggest that the initial community of friars, and, therefore, those who would have responsibility for the design and layout of the buildings, came from a foundation in England, rather than Ireland. Fenning’s comment, that ‘at the time of the suppression (1540) the convent was commonly known as “The Blackfriars Preachers”, a name that testifies to its English origin and environment’,94 may echo a tradition prevalent during its heyday, that it was not a typical Irish friary. The size of the friary, the decoration of the buildings with stained glass, wall paintings, and, quite possibly, a costly Purbeck marble cloister, coupled with the enigmatic reference to that large sum of money suggest that de Geneville was indeed the primary patron. Whether that amount of money was spent on the friary, or left for future expenditure remains to be answered.

89 

Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, p. 323. See O’Keeffe, Irish Medi­eval Buildings, pp. 156–57, for discussion of phasing and layout of mendicant churches. 91  Potterton, Medi­eval Trim, p. 320. 92  Ó Clabaigh, The Friars in Ireland, p. 87. 93  Planned and methodical steps taken by the Dominicans before setting up a new foundation are detailed in Hinnebusch, History of the Dominican Order, pp. 261, 279. 94  Fenning, ‘The Dominicans of Trim’, p. 16. 90 

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Works Cited Primary Sources Hibernia Dominicana, sive historia provinciae hiberniae ordinis praedicatorum, ed. by Thomas Burke (Co­logne, 1762; repr. London: Gregg, 1970) ‘Regestum monasterii fratrum praedicatorum de Athenry’, ed. by Ambrose Coleman, Archi­ vium Hibernicum, 1 (1912), 201–21

Secondary Works Blair, John, ‘Purbeck Marble’, in English Medi­eval Industries: Craftsmen, Techniques, Products, ed. by John Blair and Nigel Ramsey (London: Hambledon, 2001), pp. 41–56 Bonnefoy, Áine, ‘The Cosmopolitan Children of Sir Geoffrey de Geneville’ (unpublished MPhil thesis, Trinity College Dublin, 2015) Bradley, John, ‘The Medi­eval Towns of County Meath’, Ríocht na Midhe, 8 (1989), 30–49 Byrne, Francis John, ‘A Note on Trim and Sletty’, Peritia, 3 (1984), 316–19 Conlon, Patrick, ‘Irish Dominican Medi­eval Architecture’, in A Celebration of Sligo: First Essays for the Sligo Field Club, ed. by Martin Timoney (Sligo: Sligo Field Club, 2002), pp. 215–28 Conwell, E.  A., ‘A Ramble round Trim’, Journal of the Historical and Archaeo­logical Association of Ireland, 4 (1872), 361–430; 3 (1874), 15–17 Coyne, Frank, ‘Archaeo­logical Test Trenching Report on Investigations Carried out at the Abbey Car Park, Tralee Town Centre, Co. Kerry’, Consent no. C225 (2008) Duffy, Sean, ‘The “Key of the Pale”: A History of Trim Castle’, in Trim Castle, Co. Meath: Exca­vations 1995–98, ed. by Alan Hayden (Dublin: Stationery Office, 2011), pp. 6–28 Fenning, Hugh, ‘The Dominicans of Trim: 1713–1833’, Ríocht na Midhe, 2.4 (1962), 21–32 —— , ‘The Dominicans of Trim: 1263–1682’, Ríocht na Midhe, 3.1 (1963), 15–23 —— , ‘Founders of Irish Dominican Friaries: An Unpublished List of c. 1647’, Collectanea Hibernica, 44/45 (2002/03), 56–62 Flynn, Thomas S., The Irish Dominicans, 1536–1641 (Dublin: Four Courts, 1993) Gittos, Brian, and Moira Gittos, ‘Irish Purbeck: Recently Identified Purbeck Marble in Ireland’, Church Monuments, 13 (1998), 75–91 Graham, Brian, ‘The Evolution of the Settlement Pattern of Anglo-Norman East Meath’, in Fields, Farms and Settlement in Europe, ed. by Desmond McCourt, Robin A. Butlin, and Ronald  H. Buchanan (Holywood, NI: Ulster Folk and Transport Museum, 1976), pp. 38–47 Gwynn, Aubrey, and R.  Neville Hadcock, Medi­eval Religious Houses Ireland (Harlow: Longmans, 1970; repr. Dublin: Irish Academic Press, 1988) Halpin, Andrew, and Laureen Buckley, ‘Archaeo­logical Excavations at the Dominican Priory, Drogheda, Co.  Louth’, Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy, 95C (1995), 175–233

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Hartland, Beth, ‘Vaulcoleurs, Ludlow and Trim: The Role of Ireland in the Career of Geoffrey de Geneville (c. 1226–1314)’, Irish Historical Studies, 32 (2001), 457–77 Hayden, Alan, ed., Trim Castle, Co.  Meath, Excavations, 1995–98 (Dublin: Stationery Office, 2011) Hayden, Alan, and Claire Walsh, ‘Small Finds’, in Archaeo­logical Excavations at Patrick, Nicholas and Winetavern Streets, Dublin, ed. by Claire Walsh (Dingle: Brandon, 1997), pp. 132–44 Hennessy, Mark, Irish Historic Towns Atlas, xiv: Trim (Dublin: Royal Irish Academy, 2004) Hinnebusch, William A., The Early English Friars Preachers (Rome: Istituto storico do­ me­nicano, 1951) —— , The History of the Dominican Order, i: Origins and Growth to 1500 (New York: Alba House, 1965) Hogan, Arlene, Kilmallock Dominican Priory, An Architectural Perspective, 1291–1991 (Kilmallock: Kilmallock Historical Society, 1991) Hurley, Maurice, and Cathy Sheehan, Excavations at the Dominican Priory of St Mary of the Isle, Crosse’s Green, Cork (Cork: Cork Corporation, 1995) Lafaye, Anne-Julie, ‘The Dominicans in Ireland: A Comparative Study of the East Munster and Leinster Settlements’, Journal of Medi­eval Monastic Studies, 4 (2015), 77–106 —— , ‘Spiritual Renewal and Changing Landscapes: The Mendicant Orders in Ireland, 13th–16th Century’, in Church and Settlement in Ireland, ed. by James Lyttleton and Matthew Stout (Dublin: Four Courts Pres, 2018), pp. 119–41 Leask, Harold G., Irish Churches and Monastic Building, ii (Dundalk: Dundalgan, 1960; repr. 1967) Lewis, Samuel, A Topo­graphical Dictionary of Ireland (London: S. Lewis & Co., 1837) McMahon, Mary, ‘Archaeo­logical Excavations at the Site for the Four Courts Extension, Inns Quay, Dublin’, Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy, 88C (1988), 271–319 Montague, John, ‘The Cloister Arcade’, in Kells Priory, Co. Kilkenny: Archaeo­logical Exca­ vations, ed. by Thomas Fanning and Miriam Clyne (Dublin: Stationery Office, 2007), pp. 187–205 Moran, Josephine, ‘The Window Glass’, in Kells Priory, Co. Kilkenny: Archaeo­logical Exca­ vations, ed. by Thomas Fanning and Miriam Clyne (Dublin: Stationery Office, 2007), pp. 261–316 Morton, Karena, ‘The Wall Painting Fragments’, in Kells Priory, Co. Kilkenny: Archaeo­ logical Excavations, ed.  by Thomas Fanning and Miriam Clyne (Dublin: Stationery Office, 2007), pp. 206–25 Murphy, Eileen, ‘Children’s Burial Grounds in Ireland (Cillíní) and Parental Emotions towards Infant Death’, International Journal of Historical Archaeo­logy, 15 (2011), 409–28 O’Brien, Derek, ‘The Importation and Use of Building and Other Stone in Ireland c. 1170–1400’ (unpublished MPhil thesis, Uni­ver­sity College Cork, 2014) O’Carroll, Finola, ‘Archaeo­logical Research Excavations at the Black Friary, Trim, Co. Meath’ (unpublished excavation report, 2011)

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—— , ‘Archaeo­logical Research Excavations at the Black Friary, Trim, Co. Meath’ (unpublished excavation report, 2014) O’Carroll, Finola, and Denis Shine, ‘The Blackfriary Button’, Ríocht na Midhe, 27 (2016), 30–36 O’Carroll, Finola, Denis Shine, and Rachel Scott, ‘Archaeo­logical Report’, in Black Friary Archaeo­logical and Community Report (unpublished excavation report, 2016), pp. 8–33 Ó Clabaigh, Colmán, The Friars in Ireland, 1224–1540 (Dublin: Four Courts, 2012) Ó Floinn, Raghnall, ‘Black Abbey, Gardens, Co. Kilkenny: E1096’, in Breaking Ground, Finding Graves, ii, ed. by Mary Cahill and Maeve Sikora (Dublin: Wordwell, 2011), pp. 260–70 O’Keeffe, Tadhg, Irish Medi­eval Buildings, 1100–1600 (Dublin: Four Courts, 2015) O’Sullivan, Deirdre, In the Company of the Preachers: The Archaeo­logy of Medi­eval Friaries in England and Wales (Leicester: Leicester Archaeo­logy Mono­graphs, 2013) Pochin Mould, Daphne, The Irish Dominicans: The Friars Preachers in the History of Catholic Ireland (Dublin: Dominican Publications, 1957) Potterton, Michael, Medi­eval Trim: History and Archaeo­logy (Dublin: Four Courts, 2005) Potterton, Michael, and Matthew Seaver, eds, Uncovering Medi­eval Trim (Dublin: Four Courts, 2009) Seaver, Matthew, Mark Kelly, and Ciara Travers, ‘Burials at the Well: Excavations at the Black Friary, Trim’, in Uncovering Medi­eval Trim, ed. by Michael Potterton and Matthew Seaver (Dublin: Four Courts, 2009), pp. 293–332 Stalley, Roger A., Ireland and Europe in the Middle Ages: Selected Essays on Architecture and Sculpture (London: Pindar, 1994) Stephens, Mandy, ‘Empty Space: Excavations outside Trim’, in Uncovering Medi­eval Trim, ed. by Michael Potterton and Matthew Seaver (Dublin: Four Courts, 2009), pp. 98–120 Sundt, Richard A., ‘Mediocres domos et humiles habeant fratres nostri: Dominican Legisla­ tion on Architecture and Architectural Decoration in the 13th Century’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 46 (1987), 394–407 Sweetman, P. David, ‘Archaeo­logical Excavations at Trim Castle, Co. Meath, 1971–74’, Pro­ceedings of the Royal Irish Academy, 78C (1978), 127–98 Williams, Bernadette, ‘The Dominican Annals of Dublin’, in Medi­eval Dublin, ii: Pro­ ceedings of the Friends of Medi­eval Dublin Symposium 2000, ed. by Seán Duffy (Dublin: Four Courts, 2001), pp. 142–68 —— , ‘The Arrival of the Dominicans in Ireland in 1224 and the Question of Dublin and Drogheda: The Sources Re-Examined’, in Medi­eval Dublin, xiii: Proceedings of the Friends of Medi­eval Dublin Symposium 2011, ed.  by Seán Duffy (Dublin: Four Courts, 2013), pp. 150–82

Tales of War and Pilgrimage: The Archive of Santa Maria de Vilabertran in Catalonia Karen Stöber

T

his chapter looks at the impressive archive of the Augustinian abbey of Santa Maria de Vilabertran in northern Catalonia, focusing on one particular aspect, namely what its contents reveal to us about the canons’ involvement — mostly indirect rather than direct — in their lay patrons’ and benefactors’ plans to embark on pilgrimage to the Holy Land and elsewhere. The Vilabertran archive stands out, among other things, for the notable number of late eleventh- and twelfth-century testaments which express their authors’ intention to go on a pilgrimage, even if this was not always realized. Vilabertran Abbey lay just outside the town of Figueres, a little south of the foothills of the Pyrenees not far from the modern French border.1 The Augustinian abbey, like so many other houses of regular canons across medi­eval Europe, was established at the site of an existing religious foundation. Our earliest written records mentioning a church at Vilabertran date from the late tenth century. A document dated 1 May 975, when there was already a functioning church at the site of the future abbey, tells of the donation to the basilica of Santa 1 

On Santa Maria de Vilabertran see for example Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès; Pladevall i Font, ‘El moviment canonical a l’Església del segle XI’; Marquès, ‘Santa Maria de Vilabertran, els homes i l’edifici’; Marquès, Canònica de Santa Maria de Vilabertran; Golobardes Vila, El monasterio de Santa Maria de Vilabertran; Freedman and Sabaté, ‘Two Twelfth-Century Papal Letters to the Collegiate Church of Vilabertran’. Karen Stöber ([email protected]) is researcher and lecturer at the Universitat de Lleida in Catalonia. Together with Prof. Janet Burton, she is co-director of the Monastic Wales Project, and joint general editor of the Journal of Medi­eval Monastic Studies. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 155–169 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117262

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Maria de Vilabertran, of certain lands and privileges in the vicinity of Vilabertran, made by one Guidenella (known as Bonadona) and her son Gaufred.2 It is difficult to know what kind of religious community we are talking about, at this stage, as the early documentation mentioning Vilabertran is sparse. But about a hundred years after Guidenella’s donation, grants by local individuals involving Santa Maria de Vilabertran become much more plentiful.3 From the 1060 onwards, charters recording donations of lands in particular abound in the abbey’s archive. What these documents indicate is that the Vilabertran community was from its earliest days actively and frequently involved with the local gentry, from whom it received both lands and brethren. Thus, for example, on 28 October 1069, Ponç Pere and his wife Egara made a bequest to Santa Maria de Vilabertran, by which they gave to the community a house, a vineyard, and a flax-field;4 on 11 November 1071, a local man, Arnau, and his wife Quinverga gave to Santa Maria de Vilabertran a piece of land located in neighbouring Perelada;5 and on 23 May 1072, Guerau Guitart made a donation of a freehold in Llers, in the county of Besalú.6 The documents show that Vilabertran’s social network extended beyond its immediate locality to the surrounding villages, and as far as the nearby town of Figueres. The man credited with Vilabertran’s foundation as an Augustinian monastery, Pere Rigau, was one of the key figures in the spread of the canonical movement in Catalonia during the late eleventh century.7 Two centuries earlier groups of regular canons had made their first appearance south of the Pyrenees. They were adherents of the ninth-century Regula Aquensis. At least nine communities of canonicos Aquisgranesos were founded in Catalonia during the late ninth century; to these a further nine were added in the following century, and another five houses came to be established in the eleventh century.8 The final establishment of this branch of regular canons in Catalonia was a highly symbolic one, when, in 1149, a cathedral was built in Lleida to replace a mosque, following the Christian 2 

Barcelona, Biblioteca de Catalunya (BC), Arx. no. 4572. Note Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès. 4  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9646. 5  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9055. 6  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9848. 7  Note Pladevall i Font, ‘El moviment canonical a l’Església del segle XI’, pp. 9–32. On the canonical movement in the Iberian Peninsula, see also Linage Conde, ‘El medioevo canonical en la Península Ibérica’, and Sastre Santos, ‘Notas bibliográficas sobre los canónicos regulares’. 8  Cf. Bada and Samper, Catalònia religiosa. 3 

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recapture of the city. After these assured, if gradual, beginnings, the regular canons began to settle in Catalonia in considerable numbers from the beginning of the eleventh century onwards. The eleventh and twelfth centuries saw the foundations of no fewer than sixty-nine Augustinian abbeys and priories in Catalonia, some of which were new establishments, while others were re-foundations of older communities. This represented a typical behaviour of Augustinian canons who often appropriated existing ecclesiastical sites for their own communities. It is not known exactly when the canons arrived at Vilabertran, but by c. 1065 Rigau had organized a community of religious men there, who are later, from at least 1108, referred to as canonici. A document dated 1 November 1108, describes the donation by Guillem Moragues, his wife Matells, and their sons Ponç, Pere, and Guillem, of a farmhouse in Perelada, to Santa Maria de Vilabertran, by way of inheritance for their son Arnau, who was to live at Vilabertran, as a canon, under the rule of St Augustine.9 But even prior to this date the community was prospering and a new church that was begun at Vilabertran in 1080 was consecrated twenty years later, in 1100.10 Vilabertran soon founded its own daughter houses, both north and south of the Pyrenees, with the abbey very much occupying a frontier position. 11 Moreover, the Vilabertran canons and their abbot played a central part in spreading the canonical reform movement in Catalonia, partly by supervising unaffiliated religious communities and bringing them into the canonical fold.12 Vilabertran Abbey was by all accounts a place of considerable activity, not least in terms of its involvement in the affairs of the local community — much as might be expected of a house of regular canons and to which numerous charters bear witness — but also in relation to its significant role in the canonical reform movement referred to previously. That the house was one of the more important and successful monasteries of the order in Catalonia seems clear; and it was also pretty long-lived, albeit in different guises: when the religious houses in Catalonia were closed at the secularization of the religious communities in 1835, Vilabertran was still operating, though the community had been transformed into a college of secular canons already in 1592.13 9 

Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 303. Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, pp. xviii–xix. 11  Cf. Stöber, ‘Religious and Society’, p. 180. 12  Pladevall i Font, ‘El moviment canonical’, p. 30; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, pp. xlv–xlvii; Stöber, ‘Religious and Society’, p. 180. 13  ‘Monestir de Santa Maria de Vilabertran’ [accessed 26 March 2016]. 10 

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The Archive The abbey of Santa Maria de Vilabertran was sacked by French troops in 1794 and its archive partly dispersed.14 Shortly after 1800 Jaime Villanueva, in his Literary Voyage of Spanish churches, mentioned the lamentable condition of Vilabertran’s archive.15 Fortunately, however, a considerable number of documents survived these events and can be located today, and although the contents of the archive were scattered, some survived. Much of what had once formed part of the Vilabertran archive was to appear later as collections of documents kept in different places, in some cases identified and registered as late as in the 1980s. It is, of course, impossible now to know what proportion of the entire collection these surviving documents represent. What once formed the Vilabertran Abbey archive is now mainly kept in two places. The greater part of the documentation is held by the Biblioteca de Catalunya in Barcelona, while a smaller number of often fairly deteriorated documents are stored in the Diocesan Archive of Girona, in which diocese Vilabertran lay. Nearly a thousand documents survive for the period from the abbey’s foundation at the end of the eleventh century to 1300 and this portion of the archive is the focus of the present study.16 Thanks to an inventory compiled in 1650 we know that the archive was then stored in five chests in the sacristy, which were organized according to the type of document they contained. Thus, the first chest contained mainly capbreus; another, the fourth chest, held documents relating to the community’s possessions, distributed over eighteen separate sacks, each of which bearing the name of the village or villages to which it referred.17 It is the contents of the fourth chest, the one dealing with the abbey’s possessions, that have survived most completely. In 1768, the decision was taken to construct a new building with the specific purpose of housing the abbey archive, which was in use two years later. When the community was dissolved in 1835, what was then left of the archive was further dispersed until sometime between 1908 and 1911, when the substantial part of it was given to the Biblioteca de Catalunya.18 What remained was left to

14 

Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, pp. ix–xii. Villanueva, Viage literaria a las iglesias de España, xv, 30–31. 16  They are calendared in Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès. 17  Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, p. x. 18  Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, p. x. 15 

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deteriorate until it passed to the Diocesan Archive of Girona, probably shortly before the start of the Civil War, in 1936.19 So what can be made of the Vilabertran Abbey archive today? The surviving documents up to 1300 consist mainly of charters denoting sales and donations of different kinds and contexts, and providing varying amounts of detail, as well as a considerable number of wills, often requesting the testator’s burial at Vilabertran.20 In some cases we know something of the documents’ composition, or of the circumstances in which they were composed. So, for example, one document tells us that the will of Ramon Adalbert, dated 13 April 1075, was written ‘in his presence in the chapter of Vilabertran’.21 And on several occasions we are told that oaths were sworn on attestations of wills ‘in the abbey church’.22 What has tended to attract the attention of scholars looking at this and similar archives more than anything else is the information the charters provide in terms of mapping the monastery’s estates. But there is much more besides this that is revealed by the Vilabertran documents. Thus, the contents of the archive disclose something about the internal organization and the abbey’s life within the local society of the Vilabertran community. Thanks to the documentation we know who some of the canons and most of the abbots were. The latter tend to appear prominently in charters and wills, as involved parties, witnesses, or executors, and the former might be specifically mentioned in the same documents by relatives making bequests to Vilabertran. We have already seen the donation made in April 1108, by which Guillem Moragues and his wife and sons provided for their son Arnau, who was to be a canon at Vilabertran Abbey.23 Another similar example is the will of Beatriu d’Hortal, dated 25 August 1221, whose son was a canon in Vilabertran, and who asked to be buried in the monastery.24 A small number of documents give entire lists of Vilabertran’s canons, as does a letter dated 8 August 1189, which names not only the abbot, Guillem, but also Bernat, the chamberlain, and the can19 

Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, p. xi. It seems that the abbot of Vilabertran as executor of these wills retained copies which were then kept at the monastery and which are now among the abbey archive at the Biblioteca de Catalunya in Barcelona, and the Diocesan Archive of Girona. 21  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9854. 22  Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, p. xiii. 23  Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 303. 24  Girona, Arxiu Diocesà de Girona (ADG), Vilabertran, Perg. no. 33. See also Stöber, ‘Reli­g ious and Society’, p. 182 n. 33. 20 

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ons Bertand, Raymund, Guillem, Bernat, another Raymund, and Pere.25 We also know something about how the internal life of Vilabertran was organized through the duties carried out by individual members of the community, such as the prior, sacrist, cellarer, and so forth. From as early as 1099 we read about Vilabertran’s sacristy,26 and on numerous occasions a sacristan is named, as on 5 May 1218, when the post was filled by a certain Guillem.27 And we know of other functions the canons fulfilled in the wider community. Thus, notably, we learn of the existence of a school of some sort at Vilabertran, through references to its teachers, who are named in some of the archive’s documents. One of these teachers mentioned in September 1190, was named John;28 another mentioned in April 1202 was named as Guillem.29 And we read about the monastery’s almonry, of which a man named Arnau was in charge in March 1233.30 The evidence of wills left behind by lay individuals from the region around the abbey tells of the numerous requests made by them to be buried in Vilabertran. Whether or not their wishes were carried out cannot always be verified; in any case such requests are a good indication of the canons’ role in providing for lay funerals at the abbey.31 On several occasions the abbot of Vilabertran acted as witness to charters or wills, and he might intervene directly in the odd case of strife among his lay benefactors.32 All these activities brought the canons often into close contact with local society. The remainder of this paper concentrates on another activity that involved the abbey, namely the issue of travel. Successive abbots of Vilabertran, in overseeing the process of composition and execution of a large number of wills made by members of local society, were — in approving these wills — repeatedly confronted with testators who 25 

Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 651. Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9543. 27  Girona, ADG, Vilabertran, Perg. no. 43. 28  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9824; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 656. 29  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9831; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 718. See also Stöber, ‘Religious and Society’, p. 182 n. 34. 30  Girona, ADG, Vilabertran, Perg. no. 44. 31  A large number of wills, over 120 for the period up to 1300, are among the Vilabertran documents. See also Stöber, ‘Religious and Society’, p. 182 n. 33. 32  Girona, ADG, Vilabertran, Perg. no. 19; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, p. xlii. 26 

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wished to go on pilgrimage, to Jerusalem, to Santiago de Compostela, or to Rome, or to participate in holy war. Vilabertran’s archive is not unique; in fact, Catalonia boasts a wealth of medi­e val archival material almost unrivalled in Europe. What makes the Vilabertran archive so special for the present purpose is what it reveals about the regular canons’ involvement, mostly indirect, in the promotion of their patrons’ and benefactors’ pilgrimage plans.

Travel to the Holy Land Over twenty documents among the Vilabertran papers mention travel to the Holy Land.33 These documents, dating from both before and after Pope Urban II’s call to crusade in 1095, are almost always wills that express the testator’s wish to go to visit Jerusalem or the Holy Sepulchre: ‘pergere ad Sanctem Sepulcrum or in servicio Dei et Sancti Sepulcri’. In the Vilabertran archive, the first man to dictate his will on occasion of his impending voyage to the Holy Land, ‘in servicio Sancti Sepulcri’, was Arnau Pere, who on 22 September 1071 left a generous bequest to the Vilabertran community.34 It seems likely, however, that Arnau Pere never actually went to Jerusalem: he appears just six months later in a charter granting certain goods to Vilabertran.35 The next document to mention a testator’s intention to go to the Holy Land is the will of a man called Pere Arnau, dated 27 August 1088, who left to Santa Maria de Vilabertran a freehold which he had in the neighbouring county of Besalú, as well as an allowance of grain and wine, and a farmhouse.36 A few years later, on 18 September 1092, Arnau Guillem composed his will on the occasion of his imminent departure on pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre.37 His will is followed, some five years later, by those of Bernat Guillem (dated 5 August 1097) and Ponç Guerau (dated 13 June 1098), both of whom likewise stated their 33 

On pilgrimage to the Holy Land note especially the important work of Jotischky, for example, ‘Pilgrimage, Procession and Ritual Encounters’. See also Chareyron, Pilgrims to Jerusalem in the Middle Ages. 34  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9645; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 49. 35  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 5495; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 53. 36  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9872; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 157. 37  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 10030; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 193.

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intention to travel to Jerusalem.38 In his will, Bernat Guillem made a generous bequest of several properties to Vilabertran, as well as confirming an earlier donation, showing him to have an established relationship with the Vilabertran canons. The last of the eleventh-century wills in the archive to mention a journey to the Holy Land is that of the priest Arnau, dated 14 February 1099.39 The chrono­logy is interesting here. The first documented intentions by lay people from the Vilabertran region, dated 1071 and 1088, precede the First Crusade by almost a quarter of a century and just under a decade respectively. And even the third of the surviving wills that mention Jerusalem, composed in 1092, still predates the First Crusade. What did somebody mean at this point in time in stating that he was going ‘in servicio Dei et Sancti Sepulcri’? The answer would have to be that these are references to pilgrimage rather than to holy war. Similarly, were those testators writing their wills after Pope Urban II’s speech at Clermont, beginning with Bernat Guillem in August 1097 and Ponç Guerau in June 1098, responding to the First Crusade, or were their journeys to Jerusalem, ‘pergere ad Sanctem Sepulcrum’, individual pilgrimages? Unfortunately, nothing further is known of the testators’ motives for these undertakings. No fewer than thirteen wills survive from the twelfth century, where testators stated that their aim was to go to the Holy Land. On 8 and 11 March 1102 respectively, Guerau Llobató and Guillem Gaufred expressed their wish to travel to Jerusalem, both leaving to Vilabertran Abbey considerable properties.40 On 21 May 1105, Pere Ramon, in his will, stated his wish to travel ‘in the service of the Holy Sepulchre’.41 Among the witnesses to his will was Pere Rigau, founder and abbot of Vilabertran. The priest Arnau, whose will is dated 23 July 1109, and who expressed in it his aim to travel to Jerusalem, left to Vilabertran certain lands and other items.42 Two years later, on 8 May 1111, 38 

For Bernat Guillem, see Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9950; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 236. For Ponç Guerau, see Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9739; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 239. 39  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9689; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 245. 40  For Guerau Llobató, see Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9758; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 268. For Guillem Gaufred, see Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9904; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 269. 41  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 5569; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 285. 42  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9952; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 310.

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the will of Pere Ramon of Vilavenut described him as ‘cupiens invisere sepulcrum Redemptoris nostri’ (wishing to visit the tomb of our Redeemer) and requested that he be buried at Santa Maria de Vilabertran, to which he left several vineyards and an olive grove, as well as furniture.43 Another testator about to depart for Jerusalem likewise asked to be buried at the abbey of Vilabertran, should he die in Spain. This was Ramon d’Ollers, who on 6 May 1133 also bequeathed to the abbey a farmhouse and lands and chose Berenguer, abbot of Vilabertran, as one of the executors of his will.44 And another man, also called Berenguer, whose will is dated 2 May 1123, on the occasion of his voyage to Jerusalem, gave to the canons of Vilabertran the third part of his movable goods, as well as certain lands.45 The wording in all these cases is similar, with the documents mentioning the testator’s intention to ‘go to Jerusalem or the Holy Sepulchre’. No further journey to the Holy Land is mentioned among the documents of the Vilabertran archive after 1146, when, on 25 July, Berenguer, abbot of St Felix of Girona, composed his will, in which he stated his aim to travel to Jerusalem.46 Some travellers never returned. Towards the closing years of the eleventh century, Ramon Gaubert died on his journey to the Holy Land, as we know from a document in the abbey archive, dated 24 March 1091, by which his widow, Sicardis, released to Vilabertran certain fields specified in her husband’s will.47 Nor did Berenguer Ramon make it back home. A document in the collection, dated 3 August 1125, mentions his death ‘in itinere Ierosolimitano’.48

43 

Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9915; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 336. 44  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9932; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 478. 45  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9750; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 425. 46  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9966; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 525. 47  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9615; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 184. 48  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9715; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 443.

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Other Pilgrimage Destinations But the Holy Land was not the only place sought out by Vilabertran’s testators, though it was by far the most frequently mentioned destination. In two of the wills included in the Vilabertran archive individuals expressed their desire to go on pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela (‘ire viam Sancti Iacobi’). Thus Ponç Dalmau composed his undated will (probably from around 1100) on the occasion of his journey to St James’s shrine in Galicia.49 He did not ask for burial in Vilabertran, but did remember the abbey in his will by granting it alms, and he directed that his movable goods be distributed among the poor by his sister-inlaw Ermessendis. And similarly, Pere Guillem, on 9 September 1105, declared in his will that he was about to depart for Santiago de Compostela.50 No further wills among the Vilabertran documents refer to pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, though on two occasions a journey to ‘Spain’ is mentioned, but it seems unlikely that the testators were referring to pilgrimage to Galicia in either case. Only one document included in the collection makes reference to a journey to Rome. On 11 February 1093, Guillem Seniofred made provisions for his burial at the church of Vilabertran, before setting off to Rome (‘cupiens ire Roma’), should he die in these lands.51 And he left to the abbey a farmhouse and the third part of an olive grove, among other possessions.

Other Types of Travel Three further wills in the Vilabertran archive inform us of the intention of the testators to travel ‘to Spain’. In the first of these, dated 22 August 1089, Bernat Ramon declared his wish to go to Spain (‘pergere in Ispaniam’) in his will composed on account of the occasion.52 He bequeathed certain lands and a vineyard to the abbey of Vilabertran with the expressly stated wish that his son Berenguer become a canon at the abbey. Over a decade later, on 26 April, 1102, Guillem 49 

Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9968; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 264. 50  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9540; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 287. 51  Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 199. 52  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9873; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 162.

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Ramon in his will similarly expressed his intention to go ‘pergere in Ispania’.53 He moreover asked to be buried at Santa Maria de Vilabertran, whose abbot was one of the executors of his will, and to which abbey he left a generous bequest consisting of a farmhouse, a considerable monetary donation, and the third part of his movable goods. The third man to express his wish to go ‘pergere in Ispaniam’ was Roland de Soler, in his will dated 6 September 1112.54 Like Guillem Ramon he, too, asked to be buried at Vilabertran, should he die ‘between Barcelona and Narbonne’. In the cases of these three men we know nothing further of their motives, but the absence of reference to a particular shrine, and the absence of any reference to pilgrimage, suggests perhaps that these men may have taken part in military expeditions in Reconquista campaigns.

Some Conclusions The comparatively high number of instances of documents in the Vilabertran archive that mention pilgrimage, and possibly participation in crusading or Reconquista campaigns, tells us something about the attitudes of the regular canons to this type of activity, and their own involvement in the same. This is not surprising; rather, it fits really quite well into the image of the regular canons playing an active role in their wider communities, and within lay society. Josep Marquès has pointed out that Vilabertran was more actively involved in supporting or facilitating pilgrimages than any other religious institution in the diocese.55 This must surely have something to do with both Vilabertran’s important role in the community on the one hand, and the lively pilgrimage and crusading tradition in the region on the other. Nikolas Jaspert has called the Iberian Peninsula during this period ‘ein Kerngebiet europäischer Jerusalemfrömmigkeit’ (a core region of European devotion to Jerusalem) and sees a connection between the recent Reconquista activity in the region and the popularity among its inhabitants of both pilgrimage and crusade to the Holy Land. This was despite the papal calls encouraging Spaniards, including people from the Vilabertran area, to fight at home and to participate in the

53 

Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 9026; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 271. 54  Barcelona, BC, Arx. no. 5537; Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, doc. no. 354. 55  Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran, ed. by Marquès, p. xli.

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Reconquista, instead of venturing as far afield as Jerusalem.56 There are also some possible geo­graphical clues to the high participation of Spaniards in voyages to the Holy Land: there were easily accessible ports for embarkation along the Spanish coast, and there was an existing tradition that saw pilgrims pass through the region on their way from south-eastern France to Galicia to visit St James’s shrine at Compostela. Much work still remains to be done to understand more fully the role of the regular canons in supporting or facilitating pilgrimage for its lay benefactors, and lay society more widely, and to get more thoroughly to the heart of the social networks that tied the canons of Vilabertran to their wider community.57 But what seems clear is that although it has not been appreciated as such often enough, the archive of Santa Maria de Vilabertran, along with other monastic archives, is a treasure trove when it comes to exploring the social role of the regular canons in medi­e val Catalonia, their activities, their social, religious, political networks — and by extension their attitudes. This monastic archive tells us tales of war and pilgrimage — albeit fragmentary tales with many gaps that remain still to be filled.

56 

Cf. Jaspert, Stift und Stadt, p. 69. Interesting parallels of the types of religious community networks in thirteenth-c­entury Italy are discussed in the closing paper of this section by Guido Cariboni. 57 

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Works Cited Manu­scripts and Archival Sources Barcelona, Biblioteca de Catalunya (BC), BC, Arx. no. 4572 —— , BC, Arx. no. 5495 —— , BC, Arx. no. 5537 —— , BC, Arx. no. 5569 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9026 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9055 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9540 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9543 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9615 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9645 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9646 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9689 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9715 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9739 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9750 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9758 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9824 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9831 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9848 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9854 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9872 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9873 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9904 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9915 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9932 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9950 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9952 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9966 —— , BC, Arx. no. 9968 —— , BC, Arx. no. 10030 Girona, Arxiu Diocesà de Girona (ADG), Vilabertran, Perg. no. 19 —— , ADG, Vilabertran, Perg. no. 33 —— , ADG, Vilabertran, Perg. no. 43 —— , ADG, Vilabertran, Perg. no. 44 ‘Monestir de Santa Maria de Vilabertran’ [accessed 26 March 2016]

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Primary Sources Escriptures de Santa Maria de Vilabertran (968–1300), ed. by Josep Maria Marquès, Mono­grafies Empordaneses, 1 (Figueres: Institut d’Estudis Empordanesos, 1995)

Secondary Works Allen, Rosamund, ed., Eastward Bound: Travel and Travellers, 1050–1550 (Manchester: Man­chester Uni­ver­sity Press, 2004) Bada, Joan, and Genís Samper, Catalònia religiosa: Atles històric (Barcelona: Claret, 1990) Chareyron, Nicole, Pilgrims to Jerusalem in the Middle Ages (New York: Columbia Uni­ ver­sity Press, 2005) France, John, The Crusades and the Expansion of Catholic Christendom, 1000–1714 (Abing­don: Routledge, 2005) Freedman, Paul H., Church, Law and Society in Catalonia, 900–1500 (Aldershot: Variorum, 1994) Freedman, Paul H., and Flocel Sabaté, ‘Two Twelfth-Century Papal Letters to the Col­ legiate Church of Vilabertran (Catalonia)’, Archivum historiae pontificiae, 37 (1999), 39–59 Golobardes Vila, Miguel, El monasterio de Santa Maria de Vilabertran (Barcelona: José Porter, 1949) Jaspert, Nikolas, Stift und Stadt: das Heiliggrabpriorat von Santa Anna und das Regular­ kanonikerstift Santa Eulàlia del Camp im mittel­alterlichen Barcelona (1145–1423) (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1996) Jotischky, Andrew, ‘The Mendicants as Missionaries and Travellers in the Near East in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries’, in Eastward Bound: Travel and Travellers, 1050–1550, ed.  by Rosamund Allen (Manchester: Manchester Uni­ver­sity Press, 2004), pp. 88–106 —— , ‘Pilgrimage, Procession and Ritual Encounters between Christians and Muslims in the Crusader States’, in Cultural Encounters during the Crusades, ed. by Kurt Villads Jensen, Kursi Salonen, and Helle Vogt (Odense: Uni­ver­sity of Southern Denmark, 2013), pp. 245–62 Linage Conde, Antonio, ‘El medioevo canonical en la Península Ibérica. Estados y perspectivas de la cuestión (1959–1983)’, in Santo Martino de León: Ponencias del I congreso internacional sobre Santo Martino en el VIII centenario de su obra literaria, 1185–1985, Isidoriana, 1 (León: Isidoriana Editorial, 1987), pp. 261–96 Marquès, Josep Maria, ed., Canònica de Santa Maria de Vilabertran (Barcelona: Curial, 1993) —— , ‘Santa Maria de Vilabertran, els homes i l’edifici’, in Santa Maria de Vilabertran, 900 anys, Monografies Empordaneses, 7 (Figueres: Institut d’Estudis Empordanesos, 2002) Monsalvatje y Fossas, Francisco, Los monasterios de la diócesis Gerundense, Noticias histó­ ricas, 14 (Olot: Imprenta y Librería de Juan Bonet, 1904)

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Pladevall i Font, Antoni, ‘El moviment canonical a l’Església del segle XI o l’adopció de la regla de Sant Agustí a les canòniques catalanes’, in Santa Maria de Vilabertran, 900 anys, Monografies Empordaneses, 7 (Figueres: Institut d’Estudis Empordanesos, 2002) Pringle, Denys, Pilgrimage to Jerusalem and the Holy Land, 1187–1291 (Abingdon: Routledge, 2012) Sastre Santos, Eutimio, ‘Notas bibliográficas sobre los canónicos regulares’, Hispania sacra, 35.71 (1983), 251–314 Stöber, Karen, ‘Religious and Society on the Borders of Christendom: The Regular Can­ ons in Medi­eval Catalonia’, in Monasteries on the Borders of Medi­eval Europe: Conflict and Cultural Interaction, ed. by Emilia Jamroziak and Karen Stöber, Medi­eval Church Studies, 28 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013), pp. 173–92 Villanueva, Jaime, Viage literaria a las iglesias de España, 22 vols (Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 1803–52) Webb, Diana, Medi­eval European Pilgrimage (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2002) Wilkinson, John, Jerusalem Pilgrimage, 1099–1185 (Abingdon: Routledge, 1988)

Figure 7.1. Cloister of Santo Domingo de Silos. Photo by C. del Álamo, c. 1976.

The Cloister, Heart of Monastic Life Elizabeth Valdez del Álamo

T

he cloister is the heart of a monastery. It is the centre for circulation from one building to another: from the church to the chapter house, from the refectory to the gatehouse (figs 7.1, 7.2, 7.3). In this paper, I shall examine the many functions of the cloister. It is not an empty passageway: it is a site for reflection, for education, for the expression of the ideals of the monastic community, and for many practical aspects of living.1 The primary source for this discussion is the Ritus et consuetudines coenobii Cluniacensis, otherwise known as the Ordo Cluniacensis, a customary written in approximately 1085 by Bernard of Cluny for his monastery.2 The information he provides is so detailed that he most likely was Cluny’s armarius, the monk in charge of the library and the liturgy.3 1 

This section of the volume dealing with different types of familia monastica looks at diverse networks that wove together the monastic community, its lay patrons, and other religious institutions. This paper returns to the study of the monastic community per se that already featured in Edel Bhreathnach’s paper in this volume. 2  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed.  by Herrgott. I  would like to thank Susan Boynton and Isabelle Cochelin for making their partially translated typescripts available to me; they are preparing a critical edition of the manu­script: Bernardus Ordo Cluniacensis, Paris, BNF, MS Latin 13875. For Bernard of Cluny, see Bishko, ‘Liturgical Intercession’, pp. 55–56. This article is a revised and updated version of my article, ‘Le cloître, lieu de résonances de la vie monastique’. All photo­graphs by Constancio del Álamo and Elizabeth Valdez del Álamo unless stated otherwise. 3  The armarius also oversees the performance of the liturgy; Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, pp. 161–64. Elizabeth Valdez del Álamo ([email protected]) is Professor Emerita of Art History, Department of Art and Design, Montclair State Uni­ver­sity, specializing in the art of medi­eval Spain, especially sculpture and painting. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 170–194 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117263

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Figure 7.2. Hypothetical plan of the church and cloister of Santo Domingo de Silos, c. 1200. Structures in black are extant; in grey, reconstructed; in white, not extant. A: Saint’s grave, north gallery; B: Puerta de San Miguel; C: Puerta de las Vírgenes; D: chapter house, east gallery; E: refectory, south gallery; F: foundations, south-west corner; G: guesthouse and gateway, west gallery; H: medi­eval chapel of Santo Domingo. Plan by James Addis with C. del Álamo. Source: Valdez del Álamo, Palace of the Mind, pl. 2, p. 454.

Defining the Cloister An initial clarification of termino­logy is necessary. In medi­eval documents, one finds two distinct words to describe cloisters, and these words have different meanings. When St Benedict in his rule identifies the places in which one performs good works, he uses the term claustra.4 Linguistically, the word originally 4 

‘Officina vero ubi haec omnia diligenter operemur, claustra sunt monasterii et stabilitas in

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Figure 7.3. Plan of Saint-Pierre of Moissac, c. 1200. Structures in broken lines not extant. 1: chapel; 2: font; 3: refectory; 4: stairs to dormitory; 5: kitchen; 6–7: chapels; 8: treasury; 9: chapter house; 10: sacristy; 11–12: chapels. Source: Cazes and Scellès, Le cloître de Moissac, p. 12.

meant ‘anything that locks or encloses’.5 For St Benedict the claustra consisted of the entire grounds of the monastery. By the twelfth century, the term claustrum had become descriptive of the cloister as we conceive it.6 Architecturally, congregatione’ (The workshop where we should work hard at all these things is monastic enclosure and stability in the community): Benedict’s Rule, chap. 4, trans. by Kardong, pp. 80–81. 5  Lewis and Short, A Latin Dictionary, s. v. claustra. 6  The following are informative surveys of the use and function of cloisters in the Middle Ages: Meyvaert, ‘The Medi­e val Monastic Claustrum’; Davril, ‘Fonctions des cloîtres’; Klein, ‘Topo­graphie’.

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Figure 7.4. Plan of Fontenay Abbey. Source: Conant, Carolingian and Romanesque Architecture, fig. 170, p. 224.

the cloister is usually a quadrangle, an enclosed garden framed by monastic buildings and open to the sky. By the ninth century, this concept had been recorded in the idealized monastic plan known as the Plan of St Gall.7 The functions of the various structures were added on the reverse side of the plan at some point during the twelfth century. Ideally, the church is flanked by the cloister along the nave. In practice, it became commonplace to locate the cloister to the south of the church, in order to benefit from the warmth of the sun all day. To keep cool in warmer climates, this arrangement is sometimes reversed, as at Moissac Abbey in the south of France (fig. 7.3). In most cloisters the gallery that flanks the church nave, usually the north gallery, bore the greatest amount of traffic.8 Extending from the wall of the church nave, the north gallery often served a funerary function, as shall be discussed in greater detail further on. The east gallery saw virtually the same amount of traffic as the north, because of its proximity to the church apse. The chapter house, where the community met for lectures and discussion, is usually located on the east side of the cloister, as is the dormitory, sometimes 7  Sankt Gallen, Stiftsbibliothek, MS  1092; see Horn and Born, The Plan of St  Gall; Braunfels, Monasteries, pp. 37–39; McClendon, Origins, p. 172. 8  Klein, ‘Topo­graphie’.

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Figure 7.5. Plan of Saint-Trophîme in Arles. Source: Thirion, ‘Saint-Trophime d’Arles’, fig. 11.

above the chapter house. In the case of the dormitory, this was to facilitate passage to the church interior for the requisite prayer, night and day. To the south and west sides of the cloister are the structures serving the practical functions of life. A source of fresh water such as a spring, and the latrines, are found to the south-east corner of the monastery. The refectory, kitchen, and cellars also form a right angle to the church, thus, closing the cloister quadrangle. As a result, the cloister provides the most efficient passageway from one part of the monastic compound to the other. This arrangement became the model that was generally followed by Benedictine monasteries. For example, we find features of the layout of the St Gall plan at medi­eval Monte Cassino, the main monastery of the Benedictine order.9 The same principles apply to the powerful monastery of Cluny, the home of Bernard of Cluny who wrote the customary discussed in this paper. Despite this apparent uniformity of arrangement, the rule of St Benedict does not specify how a monastery should be laid out.10 9 

Braunfels, Monasteries, p. 41. Horn, ‘On the Origins’, p. 19.

10 

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The Cistercian order, whose lifestyle originated from the Benedictine rule, was very consistent in the arrangement of monastic space.11 This approach was partially related to the principles of spatial organization outlined by Bernard of Clairvaux, although these did not follow a specific plan.12 The abbey of Fontenay in Burgundy, founded by Bernard of Clairvaux in 1118 and constructed during the twelfth century, provides us with an intact example of a monastery dating to the Middle Ages, even if it no longer houses an active community (fig. 7.4).13 The luminous cloister galleries provide easy access to the church, the chapter house, and the rest of the monastic complex. But since Bernard of Clairvaux insisted on minimal ornamentation, one cannot trace the functions of the various cloister galleries from their decorative programme, as is sometimes possible with Benedictine cloisters. I am concentrating, therefore, on a Benedictine monastery that continues to house a community, even though not all of its original medi­eval structures remain. Santo Domingo de Silos, near Burgos, Spain, is renowned for its beautiful two-storey cloister constructed over the course of the twelfth century.14 The early medi­e val monastery dedicated to St Sebastian was rededicated to its reforming abbot Domingo in 1088, when a new church was consecrated. Domingo’s twelfth-century successors, Fortunius and Johannis, were most likely responsible for the cloister we see today. The plan of San Domingo de Silos published here (fig. 7.2) illustrates its hypothetical reconstruction as a monastery with the Romanesque church as it probably stood c. 1200. At present, the monastery has an eighteenth-century church and a second cloister. In its original layout the monastery of Silos followed a classic Benedictine plan. The medi­e val cloister is embraced by the church nave to the north, and the transept and dormitory to the east. The east gallery opens to the chapter house, next to a parlour over a spring which must have served for washing, baths, and latrines. The refectory is to the south, and to the west are the gateway and guesthouse. Silos forms the core study of this discussion, but references will be made to other Romanesque cloisters such as that of the Benedictine abbey 11 

Krüger, ‘Monastic Customs’, pp. 192–93 and appendix, pp. 206–09. Leroux-Dhuys, Cistercian Abbeys, pp. 39, 397. 13  Leroux-Dhuys, Cistercian Abbeys, p. 51. 14  The most complete mono­g raph is Valdez del Álamo, Palace of the Mind. See also earlier studies: Pérez de Urbel, El claustro de Silos; Schapiro, ‘From Mozarabic to Romanesque in Silos’; Álamo Martínez, El claustro románico de Silos and ‘El sepulcro-altar’; Bango Torviso, ‘Las oficinas claustrales medi­evales’; Yarza Luaces, ‘Historiografía artística silense’. 12 

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of Saint Pierre in Moissac built c. 1100, and the Romanesque galleries of the former cathedral of Saint-Trophîme at Arles, which housed canons and dates to c. 1185–1200.15

Daily Activities in the Cloister Because of Cluny’s influential reforming status, Cluniac customs, or some variant thereof, were adopted in many monasteries in France and the Iberian Peninsula during the late eleventh and twelfth centuries, even when their mother houses had not adopted them.16 Bernard of Cluny’s customary can, therefore, serve as a guide to the use of cloisters in reformed monasteries. He informs us about a range of activities that took place in the cloister: when talking was permitted, when the monks read in the cloister, when they washed their clothes and shoes, and when they shaved and cut each other’s hair.17 Functional objects used for daily life were to be found there, including the board that was sounded instead of a bell to call the community together, or the hanging stone used to sharpen knives. Cleaning and washing usually took place in the cloister or nearby. On Saturdays, designated as cleaning days, the cloister fountain was thoroughly washed with brooms and on the same day the kitchen, lavatory, and latrines were washed.18 The children of the monastery did not hang their laundry on ropes like the adults, but instead laid their garments on the grass of the cloister garth.19 Clothing, once dry, was redistributed to those whose names were marked on the garments by the granatarius, the monk in charge of provisions in the cloister.20 Novices were expected to sit in the cloister reading or singing after a meal (fig. 7.6). When dinner was eaten after vespers, once the meal was finished, the novice went to the dormitory, put his knife away, took off his daytime shoes, put on his evening shoes, then went into the cloister to 15 

Basic references include: Cazes and Scellès, Le cloître de Moissac; Hartmann-Virnich, ‘Les galeries romanes’; Thirion, ‘Saint-Trophime d’Arles’, esp. pp. 402–05. 16  Boynton and Cochelin, ‘Introduction’, p. 14; Consuetudines et regulae, ed. by Malone and Maines, pp. 15–23. 17  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, on talking : pp. 310, 323–25; reading: pp. 305, 335, 351, 413; drying clothing: p. 204; shaving and barbering: pp. 196, 204, 207, 528–29. 18  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 239. 19  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 204. 20  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 150.

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sit and perhaps to write quietly.21 Those who were in the infirmary due to illness could not enter the cloister or pass through it under any circumstance, most likely, as a precaution against spread of illness.22 Monks who were in the infirmary due to age were exempted from this restriction. They could sit in the cloister in the morning and after lunch. On Christmas Eve, before Matins, the sacristan lit a candle in each corner of the cloister that continued to burn through the night.23 This must have been a beautiful sight. The evidence of the smoke resulting from this practice on the feast of the Immaculate Conception at Silos was visible until the cloister was cleaned with a laser in 1997. The chapter of Bernard of Cluny’s customary that deals with manual labour provides a good illustration of how the monks lived in their cloister.24 It is clear from the customary that in the Middle Ages, cloisters were not always the tranquil refuges that they seem to be to the modern visitor. After a day’s activities, during which singing was an important element, when the children entered the cloister, they sang even louder than before.25 The brothers gathered in the east gallery, in front of the chapter house, and in the north gallery flanking the church, to await the arrival of the prior. At all times the children faced west, so that they might be seen immediately by the senior monks who usually stood opposite them.26 The children and their teachers sang psalms as they waited, and when the prior arrived, certain boys did the readings that had been assigned to them. After more prayers, they washed their hands and were permitted to speak in the cloister.27 When the children misbehaved, they were ‘beaten according to custom, if need be, when there is talking in the cloister, but never after Vespers’.28 On the other hand, anyone who was too small or too tender was brought bread and wine wherever they sat in the cloister.29 If it was windy, they went indoors.

21 

Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 179. Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 189. 23  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 287. 24  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, pp. 282–83. 25  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 280. 26  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 201. 27  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 281. 28  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 204. 29  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 206. 22 

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Figure 7.6. Oblate reading in the cloister of Santo Domingo de Silos, c. 1900. Photo courtesy of Archivo monástico de Silos, AFS B118.

Reading was one of the many activities that regularly took place in the cloister,30 for a practical reason: the sunlight shone into the garth. The books, usually stored near the cloister galleries, were distributed by the armarius, the monk responsible for the monastic collection.31 On feast days that were celebrated during Lent, the monks read in the cloister after Terce.32 The boys living in the monastery began their day in the cloister by reading aloud three psalms that opened with the words ‘Miserere mei Deus’.33 Whether performed by a child or an adult, the action of reading was not silent. Reading was most likely 30 

See above, n. 16. See above, n. 3. 32  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 305. 33  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 201. 31 

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Figure 7.7. Community enters the church from the cloister of Santo Domingo de Silos, April 1977. Photo courtesy of Foto Villafanca, Burgos, nº 3055/27.

labialized if not spoken out loud, so that, in the words of Jean Leclercq, the monk ‘hears the sentence seen by the eyes’.34 In this way, the reader was more likely to remember what was being read because of the accompanying physical actions. As we shall see further on, one might interpret the use of images in the cloister as serving a similar purpose of focusing the mind on important concepts.

Liturgy in the Cloister The liturgy of a cloister was just as vibrant as the tasks of daily life, even if it was more dignified. Typically, every day, before saying Mass, the community gathered in the cloister to enter the church (fig. 7.7). For some hours of the Divine Office, such as Matins, they might arrive directly from the dormitory to the church, usually through a connecting stairway in the transept. In the case of Fontenay Abbey, this access was visible to all in the church (fig. 7.8). On Sundays and feast days, especially at Easter, Benedictine monks processed around the 34 

Leclercq, Love of Learning, p. 72; Ong, The Presence of the Word, pp. 58, 271.

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Figure 7.8. Fontenay Abbey, stairway from a dormitory to the church, c. 1119. Photo by C. and E. V. del Álamo.

cloister as part of the celebration of the Resurrection of Christ. This might have happened after morning Mass if the feast day fell on a Sunday, or after Terce if not.35 According to Bernard of Cluny, processions through the cloister took place on several occasions: on the feast day of Sts Peter and Paul, their patron saints, the Assumption of the Virgin, and the three great feast days of Christ at Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost.36 In addition, the monks processed through the cloister on several other occasions: on Palm Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent, on Septuagesima and the two subsequent Sundays, the Purification of the Virgin, the Saturday before Palm Sunday, and the Ascension. On these occasions, the monks would carry holy water, three golden crosses, two gospel books, candles, censers, and the images of their patron saints. The image of the Virgin was processed on her feast days: Christmas on 25 December, the Purification on 2 February, and the Assumption on 15 August. 35 

Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 245. Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, pp. 243–45. For an evaluation of how the architecture of the cloister and narthex accommodated processions at Cluny see Kruger, ‘Monastic Customs’, pp. 195, 200, 204. 36 

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Figure 7.9. Santo Domingo de Silos, image of the Three Women at the Tomb of Christ on the north-east pier of the cloister. Photo by E. V. del Álamo.

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The decoration of a cloister might reflect such processions and other liturgical rites.37 At many Romanesque cloisters, as in San Domingo of Silos and Saint-Trophîme of Arles, there are images of the women who went to Christ’s tomb on the third day after he died, only to find it empty (figs 7.9, 7.10).38 An angel directs them to seek him in Jerusalem. The imagery draws upon the words spoken during the Easter liturgies, from Matins to Mass, that re-enact the dialogue between the angel and the women. The traditional composition in Romanesque sculpture seems to emphasize the ceremonial aspect of the imagery: the women are represented as carefully processing toward the sepulchre with their unguent jars. Their movement mirrors the celebratory processions of the clergy as they pass through the cloister at Easter. It is perhaps no coincidence that both reliefs, at Silos and Arles, are placed in the northeast corner of the cloister flanking the church. They were, therefore, seen by individual monks several times a day, as they went about their various tasks in the cloister. Furthermore, the north gallery, with its funerary function and the image of Christ’s resurrection, affirmed one of the basic beliefs of the Christian faith: that all who live well will rise at the end of time.39 It is important to recognize that such images acted as triggers for the viewer’s imagination, arousing not only the senses of sight and touch, but also of sound.40 The image, with or without an inscription, represented a dialogue well known to the monastic community. That dialogue was an important part of the Easter liturgy, hence, most monastic viewers were likely to recall the ritual words when contemplating this image in the cloister, whether or not they could read. This is a phenomenon that Jean Leclercq called the ‘sanctified imagination’.41 At Arles, the relief emphasizes the women’s ceremonial procession by separating the representation of the Resurrection from them, onto the other side of the pier. The two men seated at a table below are identified as the vendors of spices carried by the women.42 To emphasize the ritual solemnity of the wom37 

Pressouyre, ‘St Bernard to St Francis’. For Arles, see Rouquette, Provence romane, pp. 265–346; Thirion, ‘Saint-Trophime d’Arles’. 39  Carrero Santamaría, ‘The Bishop-Saints of Galicia and León’, pp. 94–98; HartmannVirnich, ‘Les galeries romanes’, p. 314; Valdez del Álamo, Palace of the Mind, pp. 17, 22, 97, 133, 136. 40  Valdez del Álamo, ‘Hearing the Image at Santo Domingo de Silos’. 41  Leclercq, Love of Learning, p. 72. 42  Mâle, Religious Art in France, pp. 134–38. 38 

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Figure 7.10. Saint-Trophîme, Arles, image of the Three Women at the Tomb of Christ, on the north-east pier of the cloister. Photo by C. and E. V. del Álamo.

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en’s visit to the tomb, the scene is inserted between the larger figures of the apostles carved on the pier. The standing apostles gesture to their books, as if to attest to the truth of the women’s story. At Silos, the relationship between the viewer and the image is even more complex. The relief on the eastern side of the north-east pier, is seen together with the north gallery and the cenotaph of the monastery’s patron saint, Domingo, from the stairs that lead from the church into the lower cloister.43 In the twelfth century, this was the view the monastic community had, not only when descending from the church or upper cloister, but also from the dormitories. That configuration changed when the reconstruction of the stairway area blocked the dormitory access in the later Middle Ages. This was the passageway between the church and the chapter house, and thus, the image would have been seen frequently during a typical monastic day. Arles is configured in a similar manner but because of the incline of the site or because of changes to the original project, it is necessary to go up a stairway beside the transept to enter the chapter house and cloister.44 At Silos, the burials of the monastery’s saint and abbots, along with their epitaphs and the inscribed sculptures of the north gallery, evoke the commemorative activities of viewing, remembering, and praying which took place in this sacred gallery that flanked the church. The sort of ritual practised near the grave site and this capital, before the destruction of the medi­eval church, is exemplified by the celebration of the transitus of Domingo on 20 December.45 The community processed through the upper and then the lower cloister. There, they began to sing the Sanctissime, they entered the saint’s chapel inside the church and once the oratio was spoken, Mass was sung. This movement would have taken the community down the stairs at the Puerta de las Vírgenes (The Door of the Virgins) the portal at the stairway to the north-east corner of the cloister. The monks would have circumambulated the cloister as they do today, pause at the saint’s grave in the cloister, then pass through the Puerta de San Miguel (St Michael’s Door), as they proceeded to the saint’s chapel within the church. This final turn has been altered since then, because the wall between 43  Valdez del Álamo, Palace of the Mind, p. 461 (pl. 11); Valdez del Álamo, ‘The Saint’s Capital, Talisman in the Cloister’, p. 258 (pl. 7). 44  Hartmann-Virnich, ‘Les galeries romanes’, pp. 286–92, 301–02, 314; Klein, ‘Topo­ graphie’, pp. 125–26. 45  Silos, Santo Domingo de Silos, Archivo monástico, MS M. 31, fol. 10r, an eighteenthcentury journal by Abbot Baltazar Díaz. Unfortunately, no medi­e val ceremonials from Silos survive.

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the church and the north gallery was rebuilt without the doorway that originally opened between them. There were many other occasions when monks might process through the cloister. One daily procession took place before Compline, the last formal liturgy of the day. Other processions in the cloister followed rogations, prayers for the mercy of God. When the weather prevented a procession that was to happen outside the monastery, the ceremony was conducted instead in the cloister. There were also local practices to consider. At Silos, for example, a thirteenthcentury monumental stone sculpture known as the Virgen de Marzo (The Virgin of March) is set above an altar in the north-east corner of the cloister, close to where the former Puerta de San Miguel had been located. The statue’s name derives from the fact that March is the month of the Annunciation and during this time prayers at this altar were part of the daily ritual. Returning to Bernard of Cluny’s Ordo, the descriptions of movement from the church to the chapter house indicate that in an ideal monastery, the chapter house was in the east gallery, near the church apse.46 The east gallery is, therefore, another site favoured for liturgy and other monastic activities, as already seen in the importance of the north-east corner as a passageway from the church to the cloister. In the chapter house and in the cloister, the children had separate seats so that they might not touch or distract one another.47 When the children of the monastery left the chapter house as the brothers were talking in the cloister, they would recite the canticle Benedicite out loud.48 Based in part on the words of the Three Youths in the Fiery Furnace praising God for their rescue, this canticle demonstrates the carefully thought out choice of texts that were read or recited over the course of the day. At Silos, the entrance to the chapter house is ornamented with foliage and vociferating apes who are tethered to the capitals (fig. 7.11). One might suppose that the vociferating apes reflect the chants, prayers, and discussions that would take place in the vicinity. They may well visualize the disciplinary function of the chapter house, as well as the monastery’s function as an enclosure or symbolic captivity.49 The east gallery capital directly across from the chapter house entrance depicts snarling dragons and their offspring (fig. 7.12). In monastic lore, dragons are vigilantes 46 

Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 143. Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 201. 48  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 280. The sources for the Benedicite are primarily the Book of Daniel 3. 57–88, and Psalm 148. 49  Valdez del Álamo, Palace of the Mind, pp. 69–71. 47 

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Figure 7.11. Santo Domingo de Silos, entrance to the chapter house, capital depicting apes. Photo by C. and E. V. del Álamo.

Figure 7.12. Santo Domingo de Silos, capital 8 of the cloister’s east gallery depicting dragons. Photo by C. and E. V. del Álamo.

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Figure 7.13. Moissac, capital 25 in the cloister’s east gallery, depicting Christ washing Peter’s feet. Photo by L. Rutchick.

Figure 7.14. Santo Domingo de Silos, capital 40 of the cloister’s west gallery, depicting Christ washing Peter’s feet. Photo by C. and E. V. del Álamo.

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who prevent recalcitrant monks from sneaking away from their cloister, just as they guard treasure in other situations.50 Several other capitals in this gallery are also decorated with dragons. At Moissac, the east gallery provides rich associations with the life of the cloister (fig. 7.3). A capital depicting Christ washing the feet of his disciples ( John 13. 4–16) is located close to the chapter house (fig. 7.13). As at Moissac, many cloisters elsewhere include a representation of this subject, known as the Mandatum, which was the model for the monastic ideals of humility and hospitality.51 In a Benedictine monastery, several forms of Mandatum were performed during the year; for example, when monks were assigned to cooking duty, they performed the Maundy on those who served the previous week, but this took place in the kitchen or the chapter house, not in the cloister.52 Holy Week was the occasion for particularly elaborate rituals that either took place entirely in the cloister, or began there. Maundy Thursday involved the ceremonial distribution of new shoes to the community. The old ones were given to paupers who had been carefully selected by the abbot for their suitability for such charity.53 On Good Friday, after Vespers, the community went to the cloister to recite the entire psalter.54 On Holy Saturday, speaking was permitted in the cloister. The washing ceremony that took place on Maundy Thursday was the most public, and perhaps the most important of Maundy rituals. This was the washing of the feet of three paupers carefully selected by the abbot. The harsh conditions of medi­eval life become clear from the care with which the customary describes how the water for the Maundy needed to be heated before the ceremony.55 Although the ritual is now confined to one feast day, in the twelfth century, at Cluny, the Maundy of three paupers began on Ash Wednesday and continued until the kalends of November.56 At that time, other members of the monastic community including the boys also performed the Mandatum. The three monks who performed the Maundy would gather in the cloister in front of the church door before going to the almonry, where the washing took place. 50 

Valdez del Álamo, Palace of the Mind, pp. 78–82. Pressouyre, ‘St Bernard and St Francis’, p. 75. 52  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, pp. 138, 236. 53  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, pp. 159, 310–16. 54  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 316. 55  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 159. 56  Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 241. 51 

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The ceremony would begin in the cloister with the chanting of Psalm 50: ‘Have mercy on me, O God […] Wash me yet more from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin’. The paupers were lined up in three rows, one in each of three galleries in the cloister but it seems that the actual washing was performed in the almonry.57 Alternatively, Bernard describes the children performing the Mandatum in their school. The abbot would give two denarios to the paupers, and another two to each boy who performed the Maundy.58 Moissac and Arles reveal the different possibilities for the placement of reliefs representing the Mandatum. At Arles, which housed canons and not monks, the relief of Christ washing the feet of his disciples is directly located on the south-east pier adjacent to the cloister well and a basin for water, suggesting the possibility that some washing ceremonies may very well have taken place before the image. Indeed, documents show that in the eighteenth century, the Mandatum was being practised in front of the capital representing Christ washing the feet of his disciples at the Benedictine cloister of Chalons-surChampagne.59 At Silos, the subject of Christ washing the feet of his disciples is shown on a large capital at the centre of the west gallery. As with the earlier capitals in Toulouse, the Silos capital displays a narrative sequence, of which the Mandatum is only one event. The other scenes are the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem and the Last Supper. As we shall see, there is a logic to this sequence. The west gallery has its own distinctive functions because this is often the part of the cloister that flanks not only the cellar, but also the guesthouse. It was the area of the cloister in which the children were taught.60 The choice of subjects for the historiated capitals of the west gallery at Silos seems to reflect these functions. The west gallery is the only gallery with narrative capitals, one representing the Infancy of Christ, the other, the events of Holy Week, as just described.61 But the capitals’ significance is enriched when its context within the monastery as a whole is considered. At Silos, the Mandatum capital is parallel to the west entrance of the monastery, where guests would have come in, and probably where the almonry was also located. Extending from the southwest corner of the garth are the foundations of an unidentified structure, which 57 

Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 241. Bernard of Cluny, Ordo Cluniacensis, ed. by Herrgott, p. 138. 59  Pressouyre, ‘St Bernard to St Francis’, p. 75. 60  Klein, ‘Topo­graphie, fonctions’, p. 121 n. 67 cites E. Martène, De antiquis ecclesiae ritibus, i (Venice, 1763), p. 18. 61  For a more thorough study of these capitals, see Valdez del Álamo, Palace of the Mind, pp. 242–60. 58 

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I suggest may have been a lavatorium (the communal washing space). This is then the location at which the Mandatum ceremonies most likely took place. From there, one could have proceeded past the capital to enter the church. Walking from west to north, one would have passed the cloister, through the Puerta de San Miguel. This route would have brought the monk or visitor past the large relief representing the moment, on the journey to Emmaus, in which Christ’s disciples, without recognizing him, invited him to join them for dinner (Luke 24. 30–31). The placing of themes of hospitality in the west gallery, therefore, appears significant in this cloister, no matter from which direction they are approached. The west gallery’s role as a place of reception extends also to the reception of the deceased. According to the Cluny customary, this entrance to the monastery would also be employed in the case of a monk who may have died while away. In such cases, he was washed and prepared in the usual manner, then placed in a bier to be carried back to the monastery. At the entrance doors, not specifically identified, the brothers met the deceased in procession and chanting psalms. After the orations were spoken, the officiating monk began to repeat the Subuenite, a response inviting the deceased to join the saints in heaven. As this was chanted, the body of the deceased was carried on the bier through the entrance hall and the cloister, then brought into the church, where it remained until the hour of burial. If the west entrance was used at Silos, the procession would have passed the image of the resurrected Christ, but this practice is not documented.

Conclusion In closing, we must remember that a medi­eval cloister was not only the physical space of the whole monastery, but could be a specific part of that space. The cloister was also the cloister of the soul.62 The canon Hugh of Fouilloy (d. 1172) wrote an allegory, De claustro animae, which tells us that the cloister was constructed out of the contemplative practice of the soul and was populated by the virtues. This poetic vision describes the monastery and the life within as compassionate and tranquil, creating an idealized view of the communal experience that is monasticism. For all the meditation, ceremony, liturgy, education, and discipline that took place there, the cloister ultimately is a place for both the practical aspects of monastic life and for enclosure away from the world. 62 

Hugh de Fouilloy, De claustro animae, ed. by Migne, cols 1017–1181; Whitehead, ‘Making a Cloister’, pp. 1–29; Hugh de Fouilloy, De claustro animae, ed. by Gobry.

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Works Cited Manu­scripts and Archival Sources Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS Lat. 13875, Bernardus Ordo Cluniacensis Sankt Gallen, Stiftsbibliothek, MS 1092 Silos, Santo Domingo de Silos, Archivo monástico, MS M. 31

Primary Sources Benedict’s Rule: A Translation and Commentary, ed. and trans. by Terrence G. Kardong (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1996) Bernard of Cluny, Ordo cluniacensis, in Vetus disciplina monastica, ed. by Marquard Herr­ gott (Paris, 1726; repr. Siegburg: Schmitt, 1999), pp. 133–364 Consuetudines et regulae: Sources for Monastic Life in the Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period, ed. by Carolyn M. Malone and Clark Maines (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015) Hugh of Fouilloy, De claustro animae, in Patro­logiae cursus completus: series latina, ed.  by Jacques-Paul Migne, 221 vols (Paris: Garnier, 1844–64), clxxvi (1854), cols 1017–1181 —— , Le ‘De claustro animae’ d’Hugues de Fouilloy, ed. by Ivan Gobry (Amiens: Biblio­ thèque municipale d’Amiens, 1995) Lewis and Short’s Latin Dictionary, ed. by Charlton T. Lewis and Charles Short (Oxford: Clarendon, 1879)

Secondary Works Álamo Martínez, Constancio del, El claustro románico de Silos (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 1983) —— , ‘El sepulcro-altar del Cuerpo Santo en la antigua iglesia de Silos. Intento de reconstrucción’, in Silos: un milenio: actas del Congreso Internacional sobre la Abadía de Santo Domingo de Silos, iv: Arte, ed. by Alberto C. Ibáñez Pérez, Studia Silensia, 28 (Burgos: Universidad de Burgos-Abadía de Silos, 2003), pp. 543–66 Bango Torviso, Isidro Gonzalo, ‘Las oficinas claustrales medi­evales del monasterio de Santo Domingo de Silos. Una aproximación a su estudio y topografía’, in Silos: un milenio: actas del Congreso Internacional sobre la Abadía de Santo Domingo de Silos, iv: Arte, ed. by Alberto C. Ibáñez Pérez, Studia Silensia, 28 (Burgos: Universidad de Burgos-Abadía de Silos, 2003), pp. 49–81 Bishko, Charles J., ‘Liturgical Intercession at Cluny for the King-Emperors of Leon’, Studia Monastica, 3 (1961), 53–76 Boynton, Susan, and Isabelle Cochelin, eds, From Dead of Night to End of Day: The Medi­ eval Customs of Cluny (Turnhout: Brepols, 2005) —— , ‘Introduction’, in From Dead of Night to End of Day: The Medi­eval Customs of Cluny, ed. by Susan Boynton and Isabelle Cochelin (Turnhout: Brepols, 2005), pp. 11–22

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Braunfels, Wolfgang, Monasteries of Western Europe: The Architecture of the Orders (Lon­ don: Thames & Hudson, 1993) Carrero Santamaría, Eduardo, ‘The Bishop-Saints of Galicia and León, their Cults, and Material Remains (Ninth to Eleventh Centuries)’, in Decorations for the Holy Dead: Visual Embellishments on Tombs and Shrines of Saints, ed.  by Stephen Lamia and Elizabeth Valdez del Álamo (Turnhout: Brepols, 2002), pp. 93–110 Cazes, Quitterie, and Maurice Scellès, Le cloître de Moissac (Bordeaux: Éditions Sud Ouest, 2001) Conant, Kenneth John, Carolingian and Romanesque Architecture 800–1200, 2nd integrated edn (rev.) (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1978) Davril, Anselme, ‘Fonctions des cloîtres dans les monastères du Moyen Âge’, in Der mittel­alterliche Kreuzgang: Architektur, Funktion und Programm, ed. by Peter Klein (Regensburg: Schnell & Steiner, 2004), pp. 20–26 Hartmann-Virnich, Andreas, ‘Les galeries romanes du cloître de Saint-Trophime d’Arles: études sur un chantier de prestige’, in Der mittel­alterliche Kreuzgang: Architektur, Funk­tion und Programm, ed. by Peter Klein (Regensburg: Schnell & Steiner, 2004), pp. 285–316 Horn, Walter, ‘On the Origins of the Medi­eval Cloister’, Gesta, 12 (1973), 13–52 Horn Walter, and Ernest Born, The Plan of St Gall, 3 vols (Berkeley: Uni­ver­sity of Cali­ fornia Press, 1979) Ibáñez Pérez, Alberto C., ed., Silos: un milenio: actas del Congreso Internacional sobre la Abadía de Santo Domingo de Silos, iv: Arte, Studia Silensia, 28 (Burgos: Universidad de Burgos-Abadía de Silos, 2003) Klein, Peter K., ‘Topo­graphie, fonctions, et programmes icono­graphiques des cloîtres: la galerie attenante à l’église’, in Der mittel­alterliche Kreuzgang: Architektur, Funktion und Programm, ed. by Peter K. Klein (Regensburg: Schnell & Steiner, 2004), pp. 105–56 Krüger, Kristina, ‘Monastic Customs and Liturgy in the Light of the Architectural Evidence: A Case Study on Processions (Eleventh-Twelfth Centuries)’, in From Dead of Night to End of Day: The Medi­eval Customs of Cluny, ed. by Isabelle Cochelin and Susan Boynton (Turnhout: Brepols, 2005), pp. 191–220 Leclercq, Jean, The Love of Learning and the Desire for God: A Study of Monastic Culture, trans. by Catharine Misrahi (New York: Fordham Uni­ver­sity, 1982) Leroux-Dhuys, Jean-Francois, Cistercian Abbeys: History and Architecture (New York: Kone­mann, 2006) Mâle, Emile, Religious Art in France: The Twelfth Century: A Study of the Origins of Medi­ eval Icono­graphy (Princeton: Princeton Uni­ver­sity Press, 1977) McClendon, Charles, The Origins of Medi­eval Architecture: Building in Europe, A.D. 600–900 (New Haven: Yale Uni­ver­sity Press, 2005) Meyvaert, Paul ‘The Medi­eval Monastic Claustrum’, Gesta, 12 (1973), 53–59 Ong, Walter J., The Presence of the Word (New Haven: Yale Uni­ver­sity Press, 1967) Pérez de Urbel, Justo, El claustro de Silos (Burgos: Aldecoa, 1930) Pressouyre, Léon, ‘St Bernard to St Francis: Monastic Ideals and Icono­graphic Programs in the Cloister’, Gesta, 12 (1973), 71–92

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Rouquette, Jean-Maurice, Provence romane (Paris: Zodiaque, 1974) Schapiro, Meyer, ‘From Mozarabic to Romanesque in Silos’, in Selected Papers, i: Roman­ esque Art (New York: Braziller, 1977), pp. 28–101 Thirion, Jacques, ‘Saint-Trophime d’Arles’, in Congrès archéo­logique de France: 134e session, 1976, pays d’Arles (Paris: Société française d’archéo­logie, 1979), pp. 360–479 Valdez del Álamo, Elizabeth, ‘The Saint’s Capital, Talisman in the Cloister’, in Decorations for the Holy Dead: Visual Embellishments on Tombs and Shrines of Saints, ed. by Stephen Lamia and Elizabeth Valdez del Álamo (Turnhout: Brepols, 2002), pp. 111–28 —— , Palace of the Mind: The Cloister of Silos and Spanish Sculpture of the Twelfth Century (Turnhout: Brepols, 2012) —— , ‘Hearing the Image at Santo Domingo de Silos’, in Resounding Images: Medi­eval Inter­ sections of Art, Music, and Sound, ed. by Susan Boynton and Diane J. Reilly (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2015), pp. 71–90 —— , ‘Le cloître, lieu de résonances de la vie monastique’, Les Cahiers de Saint-Michel de Cuxa, 46 (2015), 35–47 Whitehead, Christiania, ‘Making a Cloister of the Soul in Medi­eval Religious Treatises’, Medium Ævum, 67 (1998), 1–29 Yarza Luaces, Joaquín, ‘Historiografía artística silense’, in Silos: un milenio: actas del Con­ greso Internacional sobre la Abadía de Santo Domingo de Silos, iv: Arte, ed. by Alberto C. Ibáñez Pérez, Studia Silensia, 28 (Burgos: Universidad de Burgos-Abadía de Silos, 2003), pp. 15–48

The Cistercians and the Laity in Thirteenth-Century Italy: The familia monastica Guido Cariboni

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n Italian Cistercian abbeys, the familia monastica was a group of individuals that established a personal relationship with the monastic community, a relationship that was being re-negotiated constantly. The relationship between the abbey and the lay devotees had both an individual and a collective dimension. That group of lay people, also known as familiares, was joined and united with the religious community and was the subject of specific liturgical and symbolic rituals. The paper examines the interaction between the Cistercian order and laity in thirteenth-century Italy, the familia monastica, and how groups of laity were bound to the religious community through economic and religious bonds. The fraternization of the laity with the monastic community as demonstrated here formed an important part of collective commemoration and the provision of salvation paths for the living.

Cistercians and Dioceses One of the elements that characterizes the Cistercian order from its very beginnings was the attention paid by its abbeys towards integrating with local ecclesiastical structures. Relations between the monks in the order and the diocesan church were regulated by the Carta caritatis that the bishop had to approve before a Cistercian abbey could be established in his diocese.1 Between the 1  ‘Antequam abbatie Cistercienses florere inciperent, domnus Stephanus abbas et fratres sui ordinaverunt ut nullomodo abbatie in alicuius antistitis diocesi fundarentur, antequam ipse

Guido Cariboni ([email protected]) is Associate Professor in Medi­e val History, Dipartimento di Studi Medioevali, Umanistici e Rinascimentali at the Catholic Uni­ver­sity of Milan. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 195–212 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117264

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twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the prohibition on having churches, altars, graves, and tithes — all elements closely linked to the exercise of the bishop’s jurisdiction — in their possession went in the direction of avoiding disagreements between the abbeys and their prelates as far as possible. Beyond the requirements of poverty and protection of monastic purity, which were also present, the availability of properties and rights could have disturbed the delicate equilibrium between the new institutions and the dioceses.2 We can therefore ask to what extent the Cistercians were willing, and could accept and practise pastoral activities for people who were not directly part of the actual monastic community, whether the laity or clerics.

The Cistercian memoria and the familia monastica From the last decades of the twelfth century, a particular social group which adopted the designation familia began to spread on a vast scale in abbeys linked to Cîteaux. The fraternization of the laity with a monastic community was by no means an innovation of the Cistercian order. As early as the Carolingian period, the laity, even during their lifetime, asked monastic communities to pray for them, allocating to them property or an annual income.3 It is suffi-

decretum inter Cisterciense cenobium et cetera ex eo nata exaratum et confirmatum, ratum haberet et confirmaret, propter scandalum inter pontificem et monachos devitandum’ (Before the Cistercian abbeys began to flourish, the abbot, Dom Stephen, and his brethren ordained that, in order to avoid any cause of conflict between bishop and monks, in no way would abbeys be founded in the diocese of any bishop before he had ratified and confirmed the decree drawn up and confirmed between the monastery of Cîteaux and the others which had issued from it): Narrative and Legislative Texts From Early Cîteaux, ed. by Waddell, p. 442. See also Cariboni, ‘The Relationship between Abbots and Bishops’. A good and historio­graphically updated introduction to the Cistercian Order is Melville, Medi­eval Monasticism, pp. 136–57 and Newman, ‘Foundation and Twelfth Century’. 2  ‘Ecclesias, altaria, supulturas, decimas alieni laboris vel nutrimenti, villas, villanos, terrarum census, furnorum e molendinorum redditus, et caetera his similia monasticae puritati adversantia, nostri et nominis et ordinis excludit institutio’ (Churches, altars, sepulchres, tithes from the labour or husbandry of another, rural domains, serfs, land rents, revenues from ovens and mills, and other such things contrary to monastic purity are excluded by virtue of the institution of our name [as monks] and our Order [as Cistercians]): Narrative and Legislative Texts, ed. by Waddell, p. 328 n. 9; also Cariboni, Il nostro ordine è la carità, pp. 23–24. 3  On this point see Meerssemann, Ordo fraternitatis, pp. 10–17; see also Berlière, La familia dans les monastéres bénédictins and Wollasch, ‘Die mittel­alterliche Lebensform der Verbrüderung’.

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cient to recall the familiares included in the Cluniac necro­logies, considered in studies by Joachim Wollasch, or the very fine example of the familiares of San Benedetto di Polirone, analysed by Cinzio Violante.4 The practice of fraternization adapted very well to the Cistercians’ concept of memorialization for at least two reasons. First of all, between the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the white monks did not encourage an individual memorial practice of the Cluniac type, but rather they focused on a ‘collective memory’, on large, general commemorations, to be celebrated on set days in the liturgical calendar.5 The central moment of the commemoration was the general chapter. On that occasion, a global absolution of monks, novices, lay brothers, and familiares who had died the year before was held on 15 September, the day after the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.6 It was clearly distinct from the specific commemoration of the closest relatives of the religious, which was celebrated on the last day of the chapter.7 Secondly, Cistercians believed that the living could work towards their own salvation. If the path laid down by the order as the main tool towards salvation was followed sincerely by the faithful while still in this world, they could reach eternal life. The traditional path offered to sinners, to be saved even post mor-

4  Wollasch, ‘Les moines et la mémoire des morts’, p. 51; Violante, ‘Per una riconsiderazione della presenza cluniacense in Lombardia’, pp. 627–41. 5  Laurent, ‘La prière pour les défunts’; Wollasch, ‘Neue Quellen zur Geschichte der Cistercienser’; Wollasch, ‘Die mittel­a lterliche Lebensform’, pp. 229–31; Schmid and Wollasch, ‘Societas et fraternitas’, pp. 30–31; Wollasch, ‘Gemeinschaftsbewusstsein und Soziale Leistung im Mittel­alter’, pp. 282–84; Angenendt, ‘Die Zisterzienser im religiösen Umbruch des hohen Mittel­a lters’; Cariboni, La via migliore, pp. 25–35; Kratzke, ‘Bestatten — gedenken — repräsentieren’. 6  ‘Tempore Cisterciensis capituli, sequenti die post exaltationem sancte crucis, post sermonem habitum in capitulo cum devotione stantibus omnibus, ab eo qui capitulum tenet absolvantur defuncti nostri ita dicente: Anime fratrum et familiarium nostrorum hoc anno defunctorum requiescant in pace’ (At the general chapter, on the day following the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, after the sermon, in the chapter, while everyone is standing with devotion, may our deceased be absolved by the person holding the chapter who pronounces the following words: ‘May the souls of our brothers and of our kin who have died in this year rest in peace’): Les ‘Ecclesiastica officia’ cisterciens, ed. by Choisselet and Vernet, p. 286, n. XCVIII, r. 41. 7  ‘Patres, matres, fratres, sorores et consanguinei defuncti fratrum ordinis nostri in Cisterciensi capitulo in conventu abbatum extremo die nominatim absolvi debent’ (The deceased fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and the kin of the members of our order must be absolved name by name, at the chapter of Cîteaux, on the last day of the meeting of the abbots): Les ‘Ecclesiastica officia’ cisterciens, ed. by Choisselet and Vernet, p. 290, n. XCVIIII, r. 1.

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tem, mainly through continuous prayers, offices, and anniversaries, was given less attention.8 With the order, the familia developed at two distinct, but not separate, levels. A first level was that of the great benefactors, lay people and ecclesiastics, who asked the general chapter that they be admitted directly to benefit as members of the whole congregation and who received a sort of ‘littere confraternitatis’ (letters of confraternity) from the assembly of the abbots. These were mainly sovereigns, nobles, and high prelates who sought from the order not only commemoration when dead, but also to be able to enjoy in their lifetime the benefits resulting from the prayers and works of charity carried out by the whole order.9 The petitio that Frederick II put forward to the general chapter of the order in 1215 so that he could be included in the Cistercian familia exemplifies this type of request. The abbot of Cîteaux, Arnaldo, together with the general chapter, responded to the emperor’s plea: Qua [petitione] et nos regiae devocioni pio concurrentes assensu, vos sicut postula­ stis in fraternitatem recipimus, et in consortium orationum nostrarum, et omnium quae in ordine fiunt et de cetero fient bonorum colligimus, facturi pro vobis cum extremae dies vocationis vestrae nobis innotuerit quantum pro unoquoque nostro fieri consuevit (Complying with royal devotion with pious approval, we accept you, as you have requested, in the fraternity and we include you in our prayers and all the good works that are done in our order or will be done in the future, promising to carry out for you, at the time when we are informed of your passing, what is usually done for a monk).10

It was a concern for such individuals not only to request prayers at the time of death, but to be able to count on the spiritual aid and benefits obtained by the Cistercians in order to repair the mistakes caused by sin, and be helped and guided in earthly life. From at least the middle of the thirteenth century, but probably earlier as well, the names of the faithful accepted by the general chapter into the Cistercian familia were then recorded in a rotulus kept at Cîteaux,

8 

Neiske, ‘Vision und Totengedenken’, pp. 179–83, as well as in Neiske, ‘Cisterziensische General­kapitel und individuelle Memoria’, pp. 263–64, 275–76. 9  Averkorn, ‘Die Cistercienserabteien Berdoues und Gimont’, p. 8. For a list of the order familiares see Obituaires de la province de Lyon, ed. by Laurent and others, p. 612. 10  Statuta capitulorum generalium Ordinis Cisterciensis, ed. by Canivez, i, 434.

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which was read at the general chapter, whether the member of the familia was alive or by now deceased.11 There was then a second level of monastic fraternity to which local benefactors and faithful belonged, those who joined the familia of a particular abbey.12 In this case it was an extremely heterogeneous group of individuals who established a personal relationship and negotiated it over time with the community. They were quite distinct from the group of lay brothers or lay fratres,13 as they were called in the Ecclesiastica officia, who lived in a special wing of the monastery and dealt in particular with the manual tasks of the community. However, in the documentary sources it was often very difficult to distinguish them, as both were described by the term fratres. In not infrequent cases, the familiares took part in the economic activities of the monastery, offering the capital and experience acquired in secular life to carry out legal transactions, and prepare and consolidate the property of the monastery. Of the social groups linked to monasteries, the familiares were placed after the lay brothers, but before the guests and employees in the hierarchical order. Joining those who gained spiritually, and at times materially, from the monastery often required a simple ritual before members of the community or the name of a lay brother was recorded in the list of the fraternitas. This practice is illustrated in a note which can be read on the last folios of the thirteenth-century Liber capituli of the Cistercian abbey of San Pietro in Canonica di Amalfi: Hec est fraternitas. Si quis laycus vel layca in fraternitate ipsa optaverit recipi, primo nomen suum dabit scribendum in matricula ipsius ecclesie, deinde in (manibus) alicuius sacerdotum fratrum ipsius ecclesie per stolam et librum recipiatur et postea psalmus cum pater noster. Oratio: Votum quesumus domine famuli tui vel famule tue que preveniendo aspiras salubriter adiuvando prosequere; per Christum dominum nostrum. (This is the fraternity. If any layman or laywoman wants to be received into the fraternity, the first thing they have to do is write their name in the register of the same church, then they will be welcomed with the book and the stole in the hands

11 

Goez, Pragmatische Schriftlichkeit und Archivpflege der Zisterzienser, pp. 141–42. Servois, ‘Notice et extraits du recueil des miracles du Notre Dame de Roc-Amadour’; Averkorn, ‘Die Cistercienserabteien’, pp. 19–26. For the north of Italy see Biscaro, ‘Il contratto di vitalizio nelle carte milanesi del secolo XIII’; Merlo, ‘Tra “vecchio” e “nuovo” monachesimo’; Merlo, ‘Uomini e donne in comunità estese’; Merlo, ‘Identità cistercense nei documenti pubblici e privati dei secoli XII e XIII’; Cariboni, La via migliore, pp. 47–54. 13  France, Separate but Equal, p. 246. 12 

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of one of the priests of this community, and then the [De profundis] psalm will be pronounced together with the Pater Noster. Oration: Votum quesumus domine famuli tui vel famule tue que preveniendo aspiras salubriter adiuvando prosequere; per Christum dominum nostrum).14

At the same time, a legal document was drawn up where the donation made by the lay person to the abbey, the agreed spiritual and, at times, also material benefits that gave admission to the familia, were recorded in writing. Some of the benefactors gave themselves and all their assets to the monastery, often receiving it back in usufruct; there were however cases where a very large donation was sufficient, or payment to the religious institution of an annual income was made. Some members of the familia, once accepted, continued to live in their own homes, others moved to the hospice of the monastery or at least left that possibility open, in the event of the death of their spouse or in old age or illness. Most of them took part in the prayers and the good works carried out by the monks of the abbey;15 quite a large number also received material aid, such as food, accommodation, clothes, and care in case of invalidity. One central element, reported several times in the sources, was also the special prerogative granted to some fratres to be remembered individually by the community at their death and to be buried in the monastic precinct. Lastly, sometimes, on the feast day of the patron saint of the lay benefactor or on the anniversary of his or her death, the monastic community would prepare a commemorative banquet, called pitantia, the dishes of which were clearly pre-arranged, as were the assets which provided for the purchase of the food.

14 

BAV, MS Ottoboniano Latino 176, fol. 116v. See also Martini, ‘Intorno a Pietro Capuano cardinale scrittore (sec. 12. e 13.)’, p. 308. 15  ‘Sunt plerique fideles Christi, tam pauperes quam divites, qui, cum adducti in capitulum nostrum venerint, petunt ut ipsi quoque mereantur habere fraternitatem nostram. Annuitur, et cum libro eius datur ut partem et communionem habeant de omnibus bonis quae ullo modo fiunt, vel in orationibus vel in elemosinis, non solum apud nos, sed etiam in cunctis locis quae nostri iuris esse videntur’ (It is a practice already present in the traditional monasticism as described in the customary of Uldaricus of Cluny: ‘There are many faithful in Christ, both poor and rich who, coming to our chapter, also ask to take part in our fraternity. Assent is granted and through the book it is granted that they have a part and communion of all the goods that are done in some way, both in prayers and in alms, not only with us but also in all places linked to us legally): Uldaricus of Zell, Consuetudines Cluniacenses, ed. by Migne, col. 777.

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The Liber capituli of Lucedio These dynamics can be seen clearly from the particularly rich sources from the Cistercian abbey of Santa Maria of Lucedio, in the diocese of Vercelli, in Piedmont. For this monastery, the information preserved in the sources can be integrated with the many annotations of various types that were recorded in the monastic Liber capituli. This manu­script, now in the Ambrosian Library in Milan, was used by the community during the daily chapter. The original core of the codex, composed in the third quarter of the twelfth century, also included the calendar, the martyro­logy, and the rule of St Benedict. More than two hundred names of lay people and ecclesiastics were also recorded on the last pages of the manu­script on different occasions.16 This is a fully-fledged matriculation of the familia monastica, incorporating a Notitia et memoria omnium pitantiarum, namely, a detailed list of the commemorative banquets to be held during the year for the monastic community. In the light of information from different sources, the bio­graphies of some of the familiares of this monastery can be outlined. For example, the story of Vercellino de Carbono, a Vercelli citizen, is quite substantial. 17 A carta offersionis of 26 March 1178 informs us of the huge donation that he made, together with his wife Tolonia, in favour of God and the Blessed Virgin Mary of Lucedio, to Giacomo, abbot of Lucedio. The couple gave the monastery a masonry house, ‘murata et cooperta de cuppis et arale et cassina et curte et puteo’ (A masonry house with a tiled roof, a field fit for cultivation, a rustic house, an inner courtyard and a well), together with a plot of land that they possessed in Vercelli,18 in ruga San Bernardo in the new part of the town, while keeping an adjacent house for themselves. The abbot of Lucedio, accompanied by two monks and three lay brothers, went in person to Vercelli to receive the donation and at the same time welcome Vercellino and Tolonia: In suum consorcium ut denuo in vita et in morte sint participes omnium benefactorum que fiunt in ipso monasterio et in suprascripris membris, in sacrificiis, orationibus et elemosinis et hospitate [così] habendo in ipso monasterio suas sepulturas cum de hac vita transierint

16 

Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, MS  H 230 inf.; Cariboni, La via migliore; Ferrari, ‘Dopo Bernardo’. 17  Merlo, ‘Tra “vecchio” e “nuovo”’, p. 185; Merlo, ‘Uominie e donne’, pp. 10–12. 18  Ferrari, ‘“Domus illorum de Lucedio”’, pp. 219–22.

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(into their community so that again in life and in death they take part in all the good that is done in the monastery and by its members in sacrifices, prayers, alms, and hospitality, being buried in the same monastery when they depart from this life).19

If Vercellino had survived his wife and had wished to live at Lucedio, the abbot would have had to welcome him and consider him a brother, in the sense not as a lay brother but as a member of the family.20 Familiaris is the term by which Vercellino is referred to in the Liber.21 In this case he was a member of the monastic family who, thanks to a large donation, shared, under certain conditions, not only the spiritual good, but also the material goods of the monastery. Vercellino was also among the very few who were not abbots and did not belong to the family of the marquises of Monferrato, to have an obituary note in the margin of the martyro­logy. He was also included in the list of the meals on the last folio of the manu­script. Every year on 7 October, St Luke’s feast day and the anniversary of Vercellino’s death, his name was explicitly proclaimed during the daily chapter, at the time of the commemoration of the dead, and a supplementary portion of food, ‘Pitancia de pane albo et bono vino et optimo caseo’ (course of white bread, good wine and excellent cheese), was offered to the religious in his memory.22 Even more interesting and full of details, is the case of Enrico, one of the counts of San Martino, and a resident in the family castle of the same name in the Canavese area in Piedmont.23 Enrico is also one of the few to be remembered in the martyro­logy on 18 August, with the expression: ‘XV kalendas septembris […] anno dominice nativitatis millesimo CCLXXIIII obiit dominus Henricus comes de Sancto Martino qui multipliciter benefactor extitit huius 19 

Turin, Archivio di Stato di Torino, Abbazia di Lucedio, Fondo ospedale di Carità, mazzo 2, no. 9. 20  ‘Ita ut si idem Vercellinus supervixerit iamdictam uxorem suam et voluerit deinceps manere in predicto monasterio, abbas qui tunc erit debet eum suscipere et habere pro fratre’ (So that if Vercellino survives his wife and wants from then on to stay in the aforementioned monastery, the abbot who governs the community at that time will have to welcome him and consider him as a brother): Turin, Archivio di Stato di Torino, Abbazia di Lucedio, Fondo ospedale di Carità, mazzo 2, no. 9. 21  ‘Obiit Vercellinus familiaris huius domus’: Cariboni, La via migliore, p. 176. 22  Cariboni, La via migliore, p. 193. 23  For the family of the counts of San Martino, a branch of the counts of Canavese, see Andenna, ‘Alcune osservazioni a proposito delle fondazioni cluniacensi in Piemonte (sec. XI–XIII)’.

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monasterii, cuius Deus animam possideat in gloria sempiterna. Amen’ (Enrico, count of St Martin, who was a benefactor of this monastery in many ways, died on 15 kalends of September [18 August] in the year of the nativity 1274. May God hold his soul in perennial glory. Amen).24 Some information that can be gleaned both from the annotations in the codex and from the documents in the Lucedio archive, allows us to outline better the link between Enrico and the Cistercians. As early as the 1230s, the count chose the monastery as a safe place where he could deposit large sums of money. A codicil to his will, drawn up when he was still young, in 1239, informs us that on that date he had entrusted to the monks’ custody (‘Dominus Henricus habet in deposito apud domum Locedii’) more than 120 lire of Susa which, after his death, he would have left in part to the monastery of Lucedio (40 lire), and in part to the xenodochy of Montjovet (30 lire). The abbot of Lucedio and Giovanni, archpriest of Ivrea, the executors of the count’s will, were also to give 50 lire to one or more persons who had undertaken a pilgrimage overseas ‘pro remedio anime’ (for cure of the soul) and for the remission of Enrico’s own sins. The remainder of the sum was to have been entrusted to two religious to be used for the Church, the poor, and orphans.25 This was only the first in a series of rich donations to the monastery 24 

Cariboni, La via migliore, p. 175. ‘Dominus Henricus comes qui dicitur de Sancto Martino volens disponere et ordinare pro remedio anime sue et parentum suorum de rebus suis in primitus statuit et ordinavit quatinus de peccunia quam idem dominus Henricus habet in deposito apud domum Locedii ipsa eadem domnus abbas silicet et conventus eiusdem monasterii habere debeat quadraginta libras secuxinorum. Insuper ospitali Montis Iovis triginta libras eiusdem monete ex quibus terra culta ad utilitatem ipsius ospitalis debeat emi sive comperari. Insuper ordinavit quatinus quinquaginta libre secuxinorum eiusdem pecunie qua ibidem habet in deposito debeant dari alicui seu aliquibus personis pro remedio anime ispius domini Henrici et in remisionem peccatorum suorum mare trasmeantibus; de aliqua vero quantitate peccunie qua superfuerit comisit fidei et benignitati domini abbatis Locedii et domini Iohannis archipresbiteri Yporediensis quatinus de ea pecunia quod eis melius videbitur pro rimedio anime ipsius disponere debeant, ecclesiis, pauperibus, orfanis erogando et hanc dixit predictus dominus Henricus ultimam esse suam voluntatem’ (Enrico, called the count of San Martino, wishing to dispose of and arrange his assets for the remedy of his soul and those of his kin, first of all established that, as far as the money that Enrico had deposited with Lucedio was concerned, the monastery, i.e. the abbot and the community, should receive forty lire. In addition, thirty lire were granted to the hospital of Monte Giove to purchase land to be cultivated for the benefit of the aforementioned hospital. Enrico then established that another fifty lire in deposit should be entrusted to one or more persons who crossed the sea in pilgrimage for the benefit of his soul and in remission of his sins. The amount of money that remained was entrusted to the faith and to the goodness of the abbot of Lucedio and of Giovanni, archpriest of Ivrea for them to dispose of as best seemed 25 

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of Lucedio made by the count: a detailed annotation in the codex of the chapter declares that Enrico di San Martino, on an unspecified date, but long before his death, purchased for the monastery from the men of Casale Monferrato goods from the grange of Gazzo,26 ‘to honour and revere Jesus Christ and His Mother, the glorious Virgin and for his soul and for that of all his kin’. This was an agricultural settlement that the monks had obtained in the 1180s, for the sum of 1400 Pavian lire.27 We are unable to establish whether the remittance of 631 Imperial lire that the count received directly from the hands of the abbot of Lucedio was also part of this purchase.28 Perhaps it was a loan or, in line with what happened in 1239, the simple withdrawal of a sum deposited at the monastery; however, it is interesting to note how such a large financial transaction coincided with the fierce clashes that broke out in the same year for the control of Ivrea between the counts of San Martino, in a coalition with the bishop-elect of that city, Federico di Front, their relative, and the marquises of Monferrato, the founders and active benefactors of the monastery, who had formed alliances with many of the families in the Canavese area in that period.29 The land at the grange of Gazzo was not the only donation provided by the count. The codex speaks of ‘multa alia bona empta in vita sua fratribus huius domus’ (many other goods bought in his lifetime for the brothers of this house).30 He died in August 1274 and, shortly before his death, he chose the monastery as his burial place. He was also linked to that community for famfit to them, distributing a sum for the remedy of the soul of the count, to the churches, to the poor and the orphans. The aforementioned Enrico said that these were his last wishes): Turin, Archivio di Stato di Torino, Abbazia di Lucedio, Fondo ospedale di Carità, mazzo 2, no. 37 (1 March 1239). On the credit activity of Cistercians see Schneider, ‘Güter und Gelddepositen in Zisterzienserklöstern’ and Goez, ‘Die süddeutschen Zisterzienserklöster und das Geld’. 26  Panero, ‘Il monastero di Santa Maria di Lucedio’. 27  ‘Qui dominus Henricus longe ante obitum suum pro honore et reverentia Iesu Christi et sue matris virginis gloriose et pro sua anima omniumque parentum suorum emit huic monasterio quamdam possessionem in grangia Gazii ab hominibus de Casali, in qua possessione ipse dedit libras MCCCC denariorum bonorum Papiensium’ (Enrico, long before his death, to honour and revere Jesus Christ and his Mother, the glorious Virgin and for his soul and for that of his relatives, purchased for this monastery some estates near the barn of Gazzo from the men of Casale. For this operation, he paid 1400 lire of good Pavian money): Cariboni, La via migliore, pp. 194–95. 28  Turin, Archivio dell’Ordine Mauriziano, Lucedio, Scritture Diverse, MS 5, no. 182 (10 February 1267). 29  Merlo, ‘I vescovi del Duecento’. 30  Cariboni, La via migliore, p. 194.

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ily reasons; one of his sons, Domnus Giacomo de Sancto Martin, had become a monk there.31 For his funeral, Enrico made a further final donation of 200 Pavian lire, but also asked the abbot that part of the income obtained from the properties donated to the institution, and not from others, be used for a meal in his memory. This was offered to the whole monastic community on the feast day of St Barnaby every year in perpetuity. Abbot Giacomo accepted his requests and confirmed his decision, made in agreement with his brothers, with a long text transcribed in the codex of Lucedio.32 This record was not made exclusively for legal, economic, or instrumental reasons, but also took on purely liturgical and memorial connotations, so much so that at the foot of the records on the decision taken by the community, as in many other cases, the expression ‘Et omnes fratres qui hanc scripturam legerint angelicam salutationem dicere teneantur’ (And all the brothers who read this document are bound to utter an angelic greeting ) is added, thus exhorting every religious who had read those lines to pray for the deceased. According to the directives of the order, for the count as for others who are mentioned in the martyro­ logy, the annual commemoration was not marked with a Mass or a plenary office. On such occasions, it was preferred to offer the monastic community a meal, the pitantia, paid for specifically with the income obtained from the property that the deceased had left to the monastery. Not only the day of the commemoration, but also the size of the banquet and, especially, the movable or real property which provided for the meal, were recorded in the Liber capituli. This list, which very probably was also confirmed in notarial deeds kept in the monastery’s archives, is a firm clue that this property was administered separately. The donations to be used for the meals did not flow into the overall capital of the religious institution, but were administered separately, in order to be protected from any sales or curtailments and always to provide the income necessary to prepare the commemoration.33 The transcription of the decisions taken by the chapter of the monastery and regarding the announcement of commemorative meals was included in the codex and had both a liturgical-memorial function and a more essential economic and instrumental value. The detailed recording of the donations also represented a guarantee to 31 

We are informed about this circumstance by a note in the manu­script that reads: ‘Domnus Iacobinus filius comitis Henrici, monachus domus huius’ (Giacomino, the son of Count Enrico, monk of this community): Cariboni, La via migliore, p. 194. 32  Cariboni, La via migliore, pp. 194–95. 33  Goez, ‘Mißtrauische Stifter’, p. 266.

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the faithful which ensured that the goods offered would be used, after their death, to obtain the resources to pay for the commemorative pitantia. This decision was confirmed for the whole order following an intervention of the general chapter. As early as the end of the twelfth century, the abbots, meeting at Cîteaux, assured donors that their will would be respected, and that to transfer property or money offered to a monastery for a specific purpose, such as the purchase of houses or land, and confirmed at the time of the donation, to another use would not be allowed.34 These are only two examples which illustrate the structured and diverse network of relations that connected the abbey with the lay world. The social origin of the benefactors of a Cistercian monastery was extremely variable and each time must be analysed starting from the chrono­logical position and the geo­ graphical location of the monastic institution. As far as Santa Maria di Lucedio was concerned, not only the representatives of the old families of counts were to be included amongst the familiares, but also members of families belonging to the lesser vassals, both urban and rural, as well as the holders of small ‘signorie’ and castles of the earldom. They formed relations of varying nature with the Cistercians, agreed case by case.

Individual and Collective Dimensions It was to regulate this variety of forms of redditio (giving back) and oblatio (offering) that a definition was included in the codification of the statute of 1237, the result of the general chapters of 1213 and 1233, establishing that no familia member would be accepted into the communion of monastic temporal assets unless he had waived all his property, promising continence, obedience, and stabilitas and wearing the tonsure and the habit of the familiares.35 The pro34 

‘Si liceat elemosinam signanter alicui usui datam alias transferre. Si data fuerit nobis elemosinam cuilibet edificio, aut emptioni terrarum a donante proprie assignata, transferre eam ad usus alios non licebit, et si indeterminate data fuerit, nec proprie assignata, sine culpa et transgressione aliqua pro voluntate et consilio abbatis ad usus magis necessarios transferatur’ (If it is lawful to use the alms given clearly for a certain purpose, for another use. If alms have been given by the donors in a particular way for some building or for the purchase of lands, it will not be lawful to transfer them for another purpose. In the case however in which the donation is not for a specific purpose, it may be transferred for more necessary purposes, following the wishes and the advice of the abbot, without any fault or transgression): Lucet, La codification cistercienne de 1202 et son évolution ultérieure, p. 136, dist. XI, n. 16. 35  ‘De vita et habitu familiarium. Ad communionem bonorum temporalium nulli familiares recipiantur nisi qui ad abrenuntiationem proprietatis, votum continentie et obedientiam

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vision of the chapter had a consequence locally. One example occurred in 1233 when Robaldino di Tortona ‘reddit se et sua’ (gives himself and his possessions) into the hands of Bartolomeo, abbot of Rivalta Scrivia, near Tortona. His decision entailed the promise of ‘humilitas, castitas et benignitas’ (humility, chastity and virtue), as well as ‘vivere sine proprio’ (to live without possessions) and to obey the abbot according to the rule of St Benedict.36 The decision of the general chapter tried, almost always without success, to regulate an extremely delicate issue such as the possibility that laymen would draw on monastic wealth, while leaving open a variety of forms and relations, including less stringent ones, for all those who were interested in sharing only the spiritual benefits and merits of the monks. The relationship between the monastic institution and the lay faithful had both an individual dimension, which personally linked the individual with the abbey and its community, and a collective dimension, which made the familiares a group that, although diverse, was united by being an object of specific liturgical actions and symbolic rituals, both in the general context of the order and of the individual abbey. In every abbey special moments and rites were dedicated to the familiares during the week and the liturgical year. For the living fratres, a Mass was celebrated every Wednesday except on particular feast days.37 During the office and the daily Mass for the dead, special collects were said for deceased familiares.38 They were then commemorated at the daily chapter.39 The Ecclesiastica officia also show us how the familia, who had its special position in the sacred space of the abbey church, took part in some of the main liturgical rites of the year: the

se voluerint obligare in manu abbatis, tonsuram et habitum familiaribus deputatum quamdiu vixerint portaturi. Si qui vero habitum familiaris in aliqua domorum nostrarum susceperint, in aliis domibus non recipiantur nisi de licentia proprii abbatis’ (On the life and on the habit of the familiares. None of the family members is in the communion of temporal goods, except those who wish to submit in the hands of the abbot their renouncement to property, their vow of continence and obedience, are tonsured and wear, as long as they live, the habit reserved for family members. If anyone takes on the habit of the family members in any of our houses, they may not be received in other communities except by licence of the abbot): Lucet, Les codifications cisterciennes de 1237 et de 1257, p. 320, dist. X, n. 18. 36  Merlo, ‘Identità cistercense’, p. 31. 37  Les ‘Ecclesiastica officia’ cisterciens, ed. by Choisselet and Vernet, p. 128, n. XXXVII, r. 1. 38  Les ‘Ecclesiastica officia’ cisterciens, ed. by Choisselet and Vernet, p. 152, n. LI, r. 1, 10. 39  ‘Lecta itaque tabula pronuntietur commemoratio fratrum hoc modo: Commemoratio omnium fratrum et familiarium defunctorum ordinis nostri’: Les ‘Ecclesiastica officia’ cisterciens, ed. by Choisselet and Vernet, p. 204, n. LXX, r. 25.

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laying on of ashes at the start of Lent,40 Palm Sunday,41 Good Friday,42 and on the feast day of the Purification of Mary,43 as well as at the Sunday rites of blessing the water.44 In addition, amongst the familiares, the oblates — those who gave themselves and their property to the monastery — wore a habit of their own. Matthew of Paris informs us that Frederick II himself, excommunicated on several occasions, wore it on the point of death.45 If, therefore, the Cistercians did not create the institution of the familiares ex novo, their role was gradually regulated and given a specific position by the white monks not only in the life of the abbey but also in the monastic organization as a whole. For the fratres linked to the order, the relationship with the abbey was not exclusively for and aimed at the time of death and commemoration. For laymen to share in the spiritual benefits of the religious or, even more so, receive aid and material support and income from the monastic community, meant that they formed a bond with a holy institution. All this took place through a relationship in which the spiritual and economic dimensions, often centred on the individual, were entwined with a liturgical and symbolic dimension. It was strongly collective in character and was concerned with earthly existence, allowing the fratres to take part in the life of the institution to which they bequeathed, to varying degrees, their person and their assets. The Cistercians therefore succeeded in transforming the absence of individual commemorations, namely real necro­logies used by their contemporary Benedictine monks, from a disadvantage into an important advantage. By obtaining a series of papal privileges which allowed the Cistercians to celebrate the sacraments behind closed doors, even in the periods of interdict,46 which struck Italian cities with a certain frequency, the relationship between the laity and the monastery gave rise to legal and symbolic structures, that extended a monastic community to the laity, which was often very numerous and of socially important rank. 40 

Les ‘Ecclesiastica officia’ cisterciens, ed. by Choisselet and Vernet, p. 88, n. XIII, r. 23. Les ‘Ecclesiastica officia’ cisterciens, ed. by Choisselet and Vernet, p. 96, n. XVII, r. 4. 42  Les ‘Ecclesiastica officia’ cisterciens, ed. by Choisselet and Vernet, p. 108, n. XXII, r. 24. 43  Les ‘Ecclesiastica officia’ cisterciens, ed. by Choisselet and Vernet, p. 142, n. XLVII, r. 5, and also p. 174, n. LV. 44  Les ‘Ecclesiastica officia’ cisterciens, ed. by Choisselet and Vernet, p. 174, n. LV, r. 17, 19, 21, 25. 45  Stürner, Friedrich II, 1194–1250, p. 590. 46  Tangl, Die päpstlichen Kanzleiordnungen, p. 232 n. 20; see also Lucet, La codification cistercienne, p. 52, dist. IV, n. 1 and Lucet, Les codifications cisterciennes de 1237, p. 237, dist. IV, n. 3. 41 

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Works Cited Manu­scripts and Archival Sources Città del Vaticano, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana [BAV], MS Ottoboniano Latino 176 Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, MS H 230 inf. Turin, Archivio di Stato di Torino, Abbazia di Lucedio, Fondo ospedale di Carità, mazzo 2, no. 9 —— , Abbazia di Lucedio, Fondo ospedale di Carità, mazzo 2, no. 37 Turin, Archivio dell’Ordine Mauriziano, Lucedio, Scritture Diverse, MS 5, no. 182

Primary Sources Les ‘Ecclesiastica officia’ Cisterciens du XIIme siècle: Texte latin selon les manuscrits édités de Trente 1711, Ljubljana 31 et Dijon 114. Version française, annexe liturgique, notes, index et tables, ed. by Danièle Choisselet and Placide Vernet, La documentation cistercienne, 22 (Reiningue: Abbaye d’Oelenberg, 1989) Narrative and Legislative Texts from Early Cîteaux, ed. and trans. by Chysogonus Waddell, Studia et documenta, 9 (Cîteaux: Commentarii Cistercienses, 1999) Obituaires de la province de Lyon, i: Diocèses de Mâcon et de Chalon-sur-Saône, ed.  by Jacques Laurent and others, Recueil des historiens de la France. Obituaires, 6 (Paris: Imprimerie nationale, Klincksieck, 1965), pp. 611–22 Statuta capitulorum generalium ordinis Cisterciensis ab anno 1116 ad annum 1786, i: Ab anno 1116 ad annum 1220, ed. by Joseph-Marie Canivez, Bibliothèque de la Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 9 (Louvain-la-Neuve: Bureaux de la Revue, 1933) Uldaricus of Zell, Consuetudines Cluniacenses, in Patro­logiae cursus completus: series latina, ed. by Jacques-Paul Migne, 221 vols (Paris: Garnier, 1844–64), cxlix (1853), cols 635–778

Secondary Works Andenna, Giancarlo, ‘Alcune osservazioni a proposito delle fondazioni cluniacensi in Piemonte (sec. XI–XIII)’, in L’Italia nel quadro dell’espansione europea del monachesimo cluniacense: Atti del convegno internazionale di storia medi­evale: Pescia, 26–28 novembre 1981, Italia benedettina, 8 (Cesena: Badia di Santa Maria del Monte, 1985), pp. 45–57 Angenendt, Arnold, ‘Die Zisterzienser im religiösen Umbruch des hohen Mittel­alters’, in Bernhard von Clairvaux und der Beginn der Moderne, ed. by Dieter R. Bauer and Gotthard Fuchs (Innsbruck: Tyrolia, 1996), pp. 54–69 Averkorn, Raphaela, ‘Die Cistercienserabteien Berdoues und Gimont in ihren Bezie­ hungen zum laikalen Umfeld. Gebetsgedenken, Konversion und Begräbnis’, in Vin­ culum societatis: Joachim Wollasch zum 60. Geburtstag, ed. by Franz Neiske, Dietrich Poeck, and Mechthild Sandmann (Sigmaringendorf: regio Verlag Glock und Lutz, 1991), pp. 1–35

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Berlière, Usmer, La familia dans les monastéres bénédictins du moyen âge, Mémoire de la Classe des Lettres. Collection in-8°, Académie Royale de Belgique, 2nd ser., 29.2 (Brus­sels: Lambertin, 1931) Biscaro, Girolamo, ‘Il contratto di vitalizio nelle carte milanesi del secolo XIII’, Rivista italiana per le scienze giuridiche, 41 (1906), 1–32 Cariboni, Guido, La via migliore: Pratiche memorali e dinamiche istituzionali nel liber del capitolo dell’abbazia cistercense di Lucedio, Vita regularis, 3 (Berlin: Lit, 2006) —— , Il nostro ordine è la carità: Cistercensi nei secoli XII e XIII, Storia. Ricerche (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 2011) —— , ‘The Relationship between Abbots and Bishops and the Origins of the Cistercian “Carta caritatis”’, in Shaping Stability: The Normation and Formation of Religious Life in the Middle Ages, ed. by Krijn Pansters and Abraham Plunkett-Latimer, Disciplina monastica, 11 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2016), pp. 219–28 Ferrari, Michele C., ‘“Domus illorum de Lucedio”: Una agenzia monastica in Vercelli’, in L’Abbazia di Lucedio e l’ordine cistercense nell’Italia occidentale nei secoli XII e XIII: Atti del terzo Congresso storico vercellese (Vercelli, Salone Dugentesco, 24–26 ottobre 1997) (Vercelli: Società storica vercellese, 1999), pp. 219–36 Ferrari, Mirella, ‘Dopo Bernardo: biblioteche e scriptoria cisterciensi dell’Italia settentrionale nel XII secolo’, in San Bernardo e l’Italia: Atti del Convegno di Studi: Milano, 24–26 maggio 1990, ed. by Pietro Zerbi, Bibliotheca erudita, 8 (Milan: Vita e Pen­ siero, 1993), pp. 253–306 France, James, Separate but Equal: Cistercian Lay Brothers, 1120–1350, Cistercian Studies Series, 246 (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2012) Goez, Elke, ‘Die süddeutschen Zisterzienserklöster und das Geld’, in Von Cîteaux nach Beben­hausen: Welt und Wirken der Zisterzienser, ed.  by Barbara Scholkmann, Ver­ öffent­lichungen des Alemannischen Instituts, 67 (Tübingen: Attempto, 2000), pp. 127–52 —— , ‘Mißtrauische Stifter. Aus Testamenten und Schenkungsurkunden zugunsten der fränkischen Zisterze Ebrach’, in Studien zur Geschichte des Mittel­alters: Jürgen Peter­ sohn zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. by Matthias Thumser, Annegret Wenz-Haubfleisch, and Peter Wiegand (Stuttgart: Theiss, 2000), pp. 260–70 —— , Pragmatische Schriftlichkeit und Archivpflege der Zisterzienser: Ordenszentralismus und regionale Vielfalt, namentlich in Franken und Altbayern (1098–1525), Vita regularis, 15 (Münster: Lit, 2003) Kratzke, Christine, ‘Bestatten — gedenken — repräsentieren: mittel­alterliche Sepulkral­ denkmäler in Zisterzen’, Cîteaux: Commentarii Cistercienses, 56 (2005), 9–26 Laurent, Jacques, ‘La prière pour les défunts et les obituaires dans l’ordre de Cîteaux’, in Mélanges Saint Bernard: XXIV congrès de l’Association bourguignonne des sociétés sa­ vantes (Dijon: Association des Amis de Saint Bernard, 1954), pp. 383–96 Lucet, Bernard, ed., La codification cistercienne de 1202 et son évolution ultérieure, Biblio­ theca Cisterciensis, 2 (Rome: Editiones Cistercienses, 1964) —— , Les codifications cisterciennes de 1237 et de 1257, Sources d’histoire médiévale, 8 (Paris: Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1977) Martini, Ernesto Martino, ‘Intorno a Pietro Capuano cardinale scrittore (sec. 12.e 13.)’, Archivio storico per la provinzia di Salerno, 1 (1921), 295–311

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Meerssemann, Gilles Gérard, Ordo fraternitatis: Confraternite e pietà dei laici nel medioevo, Italia Sacra. Studi e documenti di storia ecclesiastica, 24 (Rome: Herder 1977) Melville, Gert, Medi­eval Monasticism: Its History and Forms of Life, Cistercian Studies Series, 263 (Collegeville: Cistercian Publications, 2016) Merlo, Grado Giovanni, ‘Tra “vecchio” e “nuovo” monachesimo (dalla metà del XII alla metà del XIII secolo)’, in Dal Piemonte all’Europa: Esperienze monastiche nella società medi­evale: Relazioni e comunicazioni presentate al XXXIV Congresso storico subalpino nel millenario di San Michele della Chiusa (Torino, 27–29 maggio 1985) (Turin: Regione Piemonte, 1988), pp. 175–98 —— , ‘Uomini e donne in comunità “estese”. Indagini su realtà piemontesi tra XII e XIII secolo’, in Uomini e donne in comunità, Quaderni di storia religiosa, 1 (Verona: Cierre edizioni, 1994), pp. 9–31 —— , ‘I vescovi del Duecento’, in Storia della Chiesa di Ivrea dalle origini al XV secolo, ed. by Giorgio Cracco, Chiese d’Italia, 1 (Rome: Viella, 1998), pp. 267–68 —— , ‘Identità cistercense nei documenti pubblici e privati dei secoli XII e XIII’, in L’abbazia di Lucedio e l’ordine cistercense nell’Italia occidentale nei secoli XII e XIII: Atti del terzo Congresso storico vercellese (Vercelli 24–26 ottobre 1997) (Vercelli: Società storica vercellese, 1999), pp. 25–43 Neiske, Franz, ‘Vision und Totengedenken’, Frühmittel­alterliche Studien, 29 (1986), 137–85 —— , ‘Cisterziensische Generalkapitel und individuelle Memoria’, in De ordine vitae: Zu Normvorstellungen, Organisationsformen und Schriftgebrauch im mittel­alterlichen Ordens­wesen, ed. by Gert Melville, Vita regularis, 1 (Münster: Lit, 1996), pp. 261–83 Newman, Martha G., ‘Foundation and Twelfth Century’, in The Cam­bridge Companion to the Cistercian Order, ed. by Mette Birkedal Bruun (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 2013), pp. 25–37 Schmid, Karl, and Joachim Wollasch, ‘“Societas et fraternitas”. Begründung eines kommentierten Quellenwerkes zur Erforschung der Personen und Personengruppen des Mittel­alters’, Frühmittel­alterliche Studien, 9 (1975), 1–48 Schneider, Reinhard, ‘Güter und Gelddepositen in Zisterzienserklöstern’, ZisterzienserStudien, i (Berlin: Colloquium, 1975), pp. 97–126 Servois, Gustave, ‘Notice et extraits du recueil des miracles du Notre Dame de RocAmadour’, Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes, 18 (1857), 21–44 Stürner, Wolfgang, Friedrich II, 1194–1250 (Darm­stadt: Wissen­schaft­liche Buch­g esell­ schaft, 2009) Tangl, Michael, Die päpstlichen Kanzleiordnungen von 1200–1500 (Innsbruck, 1894; repr. Aalen: Scientia, 1959) Violante, Cinzio, ‘Per una riconsiderazione della presenza cluniacense in Lombardia’, in Cluny in Lombardia: Atti del Convegno Storico Celebrativo del IX Centenario della Fon­ dazione del Priorato Cluniacense di Pontida (22–25 aprile 1977), Italia benedettina, 1 (Cesena: Centro Storico Benedettino Italiano, 1981), pp. 521–664 Wollasch, Joachim, ‘Neue Quellen zur Geschichte der Cistercienser’, Zeitschrift für Kirchen­ geschichte, 84 (1973), 188–232 —— , ‘Gemeinschaftsbewusstsein und Soziale Leistung im Mittel­ alter’, Frühmittel­ alterliche Studien, 9 (1975), 268–86

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—— , ‘Die mittel­alterliche Lebensform der Verbrüderung’, in Memoria: Der geschichtliche Zeugniswert des liturgischen Gedenkens im Mittel­alter, ed. by Karl Schmid and Joachim Wollasch, Münstersche Mittel­alter-Schriften, 48 (Munich: Fink, 1984), pp. 215–32 —— , ‘Les moines et la mémoire des morts’, in Religion et culture autour de l’an Mil: Royaume capétien et Lotharingie: Actes du colloque Hugues Capet 987–1987: La France de l’an Mil, Auxerre, 26 et 27 juin 1987 — Metz, 11 et 12 septembre 1987, ed. by Dominique Iogna-Prat and Jean-Charles Picard (Paris: Picard, 1990), pp. 47–54

The Role of Monasticism in Shaping Landscapes and Settlement Patterns

City Building and Monastic Institutions in East Central Europe: The Significance of the religiones novae during the Foundation Years of Prague’s Old Town (c. 1220s–1250s) Frederik Felskau

S

In memoriam Dorotheae

ince Jacques Le Goff ’s pioneering article on the mendicants in medi­ eval France, urban historians have identified a strong link between the importance of medi­eval towns and the growth of the ordines mendicantes within them.1 In essence‚ the dictum — the larger the town, the greater the mendicant presence — has almost become a commonplace thesis.2 However, criticism of this statistically biased interpretation of the newly established begging orders, grew even before urban historio­graphy adopted a spatial direction.3 Subsequently, a direction towards a more holistic picture of the mendicant impact during crucial phases of urbanization followed three main lines of inquiry; firstly, the socio-economic and spiritual-pastoral relations of the urban friaries with the surrounding countryside became the subject of numer1 

Le Goff, ‘Ordres mendiants’; Viallet, ‘Les ordres mendiants’. Scharlemann, ‘Bettelorden und Stadt’; Kejř, Die mittel­alterlichen Städte, pp. 352–62. For a statistical interpretation of urban development in comparison to the Arab world: Bosker and others, From Baghdad to London, pp. 28–31; for England: Pounds, The Medi­eval City, pp. 93–95; for the German-speaking territories: Berg, ed., Bettelorden und Stadt. 3  Bünz, ‘Die mittel­a lterliche Pfarrei’, p.  52; on the methodo­logical concept of urban space: Classen, Urban Space in the Middle Ages; Pauly and Scheutz, eds, Cities and their Spaces; statistical examinations: Romhányi, ‘New Results’. 2 

Frederik Felskau ([email protected]) received his doctorate in 2005 at the Freie Universität Berlin. His thesis deals with Princess Agnes of Bohemia (d. 1285) and the institutions she founded. He is an alumnus of the Freie Universität Berlin and has worked at several academic institutions including the Central European Uni­ver­sity and the Fachhochschule Potsdam. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 215–256 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117265

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ous case studies;4 secondly, the integration of the friars into the civitates was investigated as one important, but not solitary, contribution to the re-shaping of urban topo­graphy, society, and piety.5 Though the claims of an overemphasis on mendicant houses led to a more balanced view of urbanization, only rarely has the broader range of existing religious, as well as semi-religious, institutions been investigated.6 But a deeper understanding of the importance of the religiones novae for the dynamics and interactions of urbanization and urban space requires the inclusion of both: the recently settled as well as the previously established mediators of pastoral care within the spatial context.7 In short, the research model has to be extended to other religious institutions and organizations to include the knightly orders, the parish churches, and last, but not least, houses of public charity, hospitals, or leprosoria.8 Such a holistic approach offers important insights into our assessment of the success and relative importance of each individual religious house, its degree of integration, its rivals, and the specific circumstances of each foundation.9 The increasing recognition of regional differences between Eastern and Western Europe, developed and developing regions, and the centre and areas increasingly perceived as peripheries, seems to demonstrate that diversity hinders the formulation of a general theory.10 Turning to the Prague settlement, 4 

Rüther, Bettelorden in Stadt und Land; Wilkin, ed., Town and Country; for the interaction between court and town: Courbon and Menjot, eds, La cour et la ville; for Prague: Bláhová, ‘Praha jako rezidenční město’. On monastic economics the overview: Oram, ‘Breaking New Ground’. See also Jakobsen on the influence of the mendicants on urbanization in Scandinavia in this volume. 5  Bruzelius, Preaching, Building, and Burying; Raspi Serra, Gli ordini mendicanti e la città; Anisimova, Town and Monastery. 6  Pellegrini, Che sono queste novità; Krieg, ed., Kloster und Stadt; Hecker and Röhl, eds, Monastisches Leben. The term ‘semi-religious’ was described by Elm, ‘Vita regularis sine regula’. The degree of innovation of the religiosity of Clare of Assisi within a topo­graphical context is presented by Kuster, ‘Eine reiche Klosterlandschaft’. 7  Gläser and Schneider, eds, Lübecker Kolloquium. 8  For the military orders: Jaspert, ‘Military Orders and Urban History’; Brodman, Charity and Religion. The term ‘semi-religious’ can be applied to the residents and the nursing staff of hospitals. For the relevance of hospitals for the creation of an urban identity: Kälble, ‘Sozialfürsorge’. 9  Combra, ‘Una concorrenza fra religiones novae’. 10  See Johanek, ‘Die Entstehung der südböhmischen Städtelandschaft’. For Czech and inter­ national research on the Bohemian towns: Hlaváček, ‘Zu den tschechischen Forschungen’; Žemlička, ‘Die mittel­alterliche Stadt’. For a European overview: Nicholas, The Growth of the Medi­eval City, pp. 169–200.

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this paper will initially address the key topo­graphical and socio-demo­graphic parameters of the settlement on the river bend of the Moldave and the religious, as well as semi-religious, institutions present there already in the first two decades of the thirteenth century.11 After that, the role of the newly established religious institutions during this critical phase of urban development (1220s to the 1250s) will be described, concluding with a summary of their contribution to the dynamics of urbanization and the compacting of the urban space.12

The Initial Phase of Growth in the Twelfth Century Before the mid-twelfth century, the name ‘Prague’ (deriving probably from the Slavic word pranouti, meaning ‘barren’ or ‘hot’, and referring to the summer temperatures in the area) was used only in relation to the oldest place of residence of the ruling ducal Přemyslid dynasty.13 This castle district, now known as Hradčany, was built on a mountain spur from the first half of the tenth century onwards, at the time of conversion to Christianity. It enclosed two main places of worship, the church of St George and the church of St Vitus.14 A second location, a district named ‘the higher castle’ (Vyšehrad), was established from the last third of the tenth century onwards on the other side of the river.15 Also built on a mountain spur, it became the seat of a collegiate chapter and occasionally acted as the place for important political actions, but especially as defence of the marketplace on the right bank of the Moldave, a part of the settlement that was constantly growing in importance.16 This grouping of settlements, labelled suburbium in contemporary sources, was supported by the first settlements on the left side of the river on the slopes of the castle hill that

11 

Berend, Urbańczyk, and Wiszewski, Central Europe, pp. 448–56; Machilek, ‘Praga caput regni’; Piekalski, Praga, Wrocław i Kraków; Státníkova and others, Dějiny Prahy, pp. 90–112; Tomek, Dějepis mesta Prahy. Art historical approaches: Dragoun, Praha 885–1310; Vlček and others, Umělecké památky Prahy; Líbal, ‘Raně gotické Staré Město’. 12  Žemlička, ‘Medi­eval Prague’; Petitova-Bénoliel, L’Église à Prague, pp. 147–69. 13  Machilek, ‘Praga caput regni’, p. 68; Sommer, Třeštík, and Žemlička, eds, Přemyslovci. For the early development of the settlement after the conversion to Christendom: Wolverton, Hastening toward Prague. 14  Huml, Dragoun, and Nový, ‘Der archäo­logische Beitrag’, pp. 36–39; on the holiness of the place: Třeštík, ‘Die Gründung Prags’, p. 232f. 15  Nechvátal and others, eds, Královský Vyšehrad. 16  Freitag, ‘Städtische Märkte’.

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Figure 9.1. Drawing of the monastery of the Knights of the Cross/Crosiers with the Red Heart in Prague by F. B. Werner, c. 1740. Source: Vlček, Sommer, and Foltýn, Encyklopedie českých klášterů, p. 532.

Figure 9.2. St Peter’s Church, Prague. Photo: Jaroslav Motyčka.

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probably grew a few decades after the building of the castle itself.17 This smaller settlement zone became Prague’s ‘civitas minor’ (Czech: ‘Malá strana’, German: ‘Kleinseite’) in the last decades of the thirteenth century during the reign of King Ottokar II (d. 1278).18 This paper will be concerned with its more developed counterpart, namely, the plain opposite the castle district. This area served as the central marketplace and became the Old Town of Prague from the late 1220s onwards (maps 9.1, 9.2).19 Commercial activities, comprising mainly of trade in tin, furs, grain, gold, and silver, did not only involve long-distance trade directed at the growing settlements of East Central Europe, but also satisfied local needs that resulted from the presence of a curia (‘royal court’) and a great number of existing villages in the settlement’s hinterland.20 It seems that from these early days, an important Jewish community, which established its own district later named Josefov, participated to a remarkable extent in these commercial activities.21 In order to evaluate how this settlement on low-lying land developed during its initial phase as a market town, it has to be borne in mind that this area had already undergone a wave of intense changes by the 1170s. This initial phase, as well as the subsequent phase of growth which saw the foundation of the ‘civitas maior’, was accompanied and shaped by the introduction and presence of new religious institutions. The early intensification of growth was triggered largely by the building of the first stone bridge over the Moldave which linked both parts of the existing suburbium. The bridge, completed in 1172, apparently followed the model of the bridge in Regensburg, and was named ‘Judith’ after the second wife of Duke Vladislav II who died after 1174.22 By then, the spiritual 17 

Reference to the suburbium in the chronicle of Kosmas (c. 1045–1125), Kosmas von Prag, Die Chronik der Böhmen, ed. by Bretholz, pp. 152, 219 (ad 1091 and 1118). 18  See Bohacová, ‘Pražský hrad a Malá Strana’. On the development of the smaller town of Prague, see Tomek, Geschichte der Stadt Prag, p. 277. 19  Fiala, Die Anfänge Prags, p. 12. 20  See the maps of Votrubec, Praha, pp. 39, 41. See also Samsonowicz, ‘The City and the Trade Route’, Žemlička, ‘Prager Westhandel’. According to the remarks of the Jewish merchant Ibn Ja’qûb of Tolosa in 973, when the ecclesiastical organization of Bohemia with Prague as bishopric under the authority of the metropolitan chapter of Mainz was established, the market centre was already the largest trading place within all Slavic territories: cf. the evaluation of the ‘Relatio Ibrāhīm Ibn Ja’ḳūb de itinere slavico’ by Jacob, Arabische Berichte, pp. 6, 12–14. 21  Musílek, ‘Juden und Christen’. 22  Huml and others, ‘Der archäo­logische Beitrag’, p. 48; Dirmeier, ‘Die Steinerne Brücke’, esp. p. 30f.

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Map 9.1. Location of religiones novae prior to and during the constitution of the Old Town in Prague. Map by D. Líbal.

Map 9.2. Location of religious houses by town gates and bridges of Prague’s Old Town. Based on the map from Státníkova, Dějiny Prahy, p. 94.

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and pastoral topo­graphy of Prague was characterized by a rather rural, decentralized pattern, following the interests and the initiatives of the ruling family. Within the castle district, the convent of St George was inhabited by female Benedictines only a few decades before the 1170s and functioned from then as a school for Přemyslids’ princesses.23 The male branch of this order was present here as early as 993, but their monastery at Břevnov was located on a pathway towards the castle.24 This was also the case with regard to the chapter house of St Vitus on the Hradčany, as well as the independent chapter house of Vyšehrad, both of which served as centres of pastoral provision for the Přemyslids. At the same time, about twenty-five churches and chapels on the right side of the river that were run by the local parish clergy, were evenly scattered throughout the villages in the hinterland and the area of dense settlement.25 Charitable institutions such as hospitals or leprosoria do not demonstrate a noticeable deviation from this pattern. The oldest, but not securely attested leprosorium, that probably existed by the eleventh century, was situated in a rather remote place beyond the castle hill.26 It is notable that this early institution was complemented by a small hospital, referred to as St Mary’s from 1135, and that this foundation was already positioned close to the curia mercatorum (merchants’ court) and supplied twelve pauperes.27 Representing the first wave of the reformed orders, the Premonstratensians, like the Benedictines before them, settled close to Břevnov Abbey and the castle on the hilly left side of the river which later gave their monastery its name.28 Mons Sion, nowadays called the Strahov monastery, was established in 1143 23 

Sommer, ‘Smrt kněžny Ludmily’; ‘Kapelle der Jungfrau Maria’, p. 193. Bláhová and Hlavaček, eds, Milénium břevnovského kláštera; Sommer, ‘Řezno a raně středověký Břevnov’. 25  Petitova-Bénoliel, L’Eglise à Prague, p.  88, counting nineteen parish churches on the territory which became the Old Town of Prague; cf. Tomek, Geschichte der Stadt Prag, pp. 245–46. 26  Regesta diplomatica, ed. by Erben and Emler, i, 84, no. 188 (this source henceforth cited as RBM); Svobodný and Hlaváčková, Pražské špitály, pp. 7–24; Karenberg, ‘Hospitäler’, pp. 74f., 78; Svobodný, ‘Die Spitäler’, esp. p. 358. 27  See reference in Series ducum et regum Bohemiae, ed. by Dobner, p. 428; see also RBM ii, 501, 524, nos 1169, 1208 (1279, 1280); Tomek, Geschichte der Stadt Prag, p. 22; Hledíková, ‘Pražské klášterní špitály’, p. 77; Bláhová, ‘Peče o chudé’, p. 118. 28  Cf. Codex diplomaticus et epistolaris regni Bohemiae, ed. by Friedrich and others, i, 157f., no. 156 (source henceforth cited as CDB); Machilek, ‘Reformorden und Ordensreformen’, p. 65f.; Hlaváček, ‘Die Anfänge der böhmischen Prämonstratenser’. 24 

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as a result of the close cooperation between the Olomouc bishop Henry Zdik (d. 1150) and the Přemyslid duke Vladislav II. Interestingly, the Cistercians, the other reformed order of that period, evidently preferred more remote rural places and, therefore, avoided that settlement.29 The construction of the ‘Judith’ bridge further intensified settlement activity. As the population in the valley increased, the richer groups among the settlers and merchants started to build stone houses. That period saw the introduction of new religious institutions, including ‘the internationally organized’ bearers of the cross, the military orders.30 The order of St John seems to have settled already in the 1160s on the left side of the river close to the bridge and the episcopal court.31 The new church of the Hospitallers, constructed in the 1170s,32 was consecrated in 1182 and dedicated to the Virgin Mary with an epithet ‘under the chain’ added later. The location exemplified a pattern that was followed in the subsequent phase of urban intensification. This involved the strategic positioning of new religious institutions at important gateways of urban communication and transport.33 Contemporaneously, presumably in the years 1188/90s, the Canons or Brothers of the Holy Sepulchre settled between Vyšehrad and the commercial zone of Prague at the church of St  Peter of Zderaz. Their early success was linked to the tremendous support of the noble

29  Charvátová, Dějiny cisterckého řádu v Čechach, 1142–1420, i: Fundace 12. století, pp. 103f., 155f., 207f., 249f., 291f. including the chrono­logical sequence of foundations: Sedletz/Sedlec (1142), Plass/Plasy (1144), (Ne-)Pomuk (c. 1144–45), Hradisch (1145 or 1177), Ossegg/Osek (1196–98). 30  Elm, ‘Les ordres monastiques’. On the oldest stone houses in Prague: Dragoun, ‘Häuser aus Schiefer in Prag’; on pavements: Havrda and Tryml, ‘Medi­eval Pavements’. On the lodging of lower urban society: Hoffmann, ‘Bydlení chudých’; Bureš and others, ‘The Formation of the High Medi­eval Tenements’. 31  Skopal, ‘Založení komendy johanitů’ proves that the traditional dating of 1158 is now obsolete. The episcopal curia was placed on the axis linking the southern suburb of the castle district and the road towards the Judith bridge; cf. Hledíková, ‘Biskupské a arcibiskupské centrum’, p. 9; Bolina, ‘Hrady pražského biskupství’, p. 293. 32  Špok, Kulkturní dějiny; on the supporters: Jan, ‘Böhmische und mährische Adelige’, pp. 303–05. For the transfer of hospitals to the property of the Hospitallers see only one instance: RBM i, 511, no. 1072; CDB iv.1, 88f., no. 18. 33  See the entries for this and further religious institutions: Vlček, Sommer, and Foltýn, eds, Encyklopedie českých klášterů, pp. 457–61. The interpretation of the location of religious, especially mendicant institutions in the urban topo­graphy is summarized in Hiegesberger, Die Architektur der Bettelorden, pp. 85–87.

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family of Hrabiše.34 The canons’ house mainly functioned as the traditional type of xenodochia providing hospitality to merchants, strangers, and pilgrims, and their service as active caregivers was provided by the brothers and sisters alike.35 The second military order, the Teutonic Knights, settled soon after 1204 in the middle of the dwelling area inhabited mostly by German immigrants, probably in the already existing church of St Peter.36 The epitheton Na Pořici, Pořic meaning ‘a marshy place’, hints at the kind of ground on which their house was established and points to the techno­logical skills associated with these settlers. The strengthening of formerly unusable riverbanks for the building of houses and further infrastructure, not limited to the northern zone, was the focus of the colonizing ambitions of these incomers.37 The initial development phase of the Old Town of Prague may be limited to a period of roughly thirty years. The first description of the settlement around the River Moldave as ‘civitas Pragensis’ comes from 1222, and the final settlement of the reformed religious order, the Crosiers of the Red Heart, took place there in the late 1250s (fig. 9.1).38 In demo­graphic terms, this time of change meant probably a doubling of the population from around 5000 to 10,000 residents including castle inhabitants at the beginning of the thirteenth century, to about 10,000 to 20,000 people.39 The crucial steps towards the establishment of a unified settlement with its own legal status were carried out during the reign of King Wenceslas I (d. 1253) and were connected to two main driving factors, namely, the erection of a stone wall that created the spaces of intra and extra muros, and the re-location of German settlers into the inner urban space. 34 

After a large donation of the high noble man Kojata in the 1220s, they became a wealthy institution with several filiations in the territory of the Bohemian crown lands; cf. RBM i, 332f., no. 717f.; CDB ii, 300f., no. 302f.; Felskau, Agnes von Böhmen, pp. 225–28; Klápště, The Czech Lands, pp. 111–18. 35  Mention of sorores and a magistra in: RBM ii, 60, no. 152; CDB v.1, 205, no. 126. On women within the knightly orders: Bom, Women in the Military Orders. 36  CDB ii, 36f., 62f., no. 40, 67 (15 April 1204; 11 April 1207); the important privilege of King Ottokar I for Hermann (of Salza), dated on 26 August 1222, in CDB ii, 229–32, no. 239. See also Wihoda, ‘The Přemyslid Dynasty’; Hlaváček, ‘Die Deutschherrenritter’. 37  Dragoun, ‘K lokalizaci pobřežení partie’; Huml, ‘K osídlení vltavského břehu’. 38  Fiala, Die Anfänge Prags, p. 21. 39  Tomas, ‘Problematika studia dějin Prahy’. This number is only an estimation; one century later, for 1348, the number of inhabitants of 40,000 is much more reliable, Maur, ‘Urbanizace’, p. 61f.

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The German settlers, like the local Jews and the romani (that is people with a Romance language, mainly Italians) were regarded for a long time as guests or hospites.40 A deeper insight into the structure and role of their community, initially centred around the Poříc area, can be gained from a privilege confirmed by Wenceslas I in 1231, but originally granted by Soběslav II as early as 1172.41 This privilege gave the teutonici a juridical position and their own system of governance which distinguished them considerably from other groups in the town.42 Unified by an oath, they were permitted to choose their own priest and a head of their own district council, a scultetus. Their administrative structure provided a possible model for the juridical constitution of the future Old Town of Prague.43 Apart from the spiritual tasks, from the very beginning the Teutonic Order at St Peter’s conducted protective duties, first for the German settlement and later for the whole town (fig. 9.2).44

The Preliminary Period of the Old Town’s Legal Constitution A promotion of the German-speaking settlement by the king led to a second wave of colonization, now attracting settlers coming mainly from Upper Germany.45 From the 1230s onwards, the settlement was promoted initially by the royal mint master Eberhard (magister monetae, d. before 1285) and supported by the Welfl family from among the urban elite.46 It probably had some connections with the establishment of the so-called town of St Gall (‘civitas apud sanctum Gallum’) and the establishment of a market at its core — a cattle 40 

Kosmas recalls the early expulsion of the German settlers (extruere) in 1068; see Kosmas von Prag, Die Chronik der Böhmen, ed. by Bretholz, p. 116. With reference to the Jews: Kosmas von Prag, Die Chronik der Böhmen, ed. by Bretholz, pp. 152, 164; on Italians: Felskau, ‘Religiosi, cortigiani e mercanti italiani’; Mezník, ‘Národností složení’. 41  Privilegia civitatum Pragensium, ed. by Čelakovský, pp. 1–3; CDB i, 255–57, no. 290; Diplomata et chronica historiam locationis Teutonicorum illustrantia, ed. by Helbig and Weinrich, pp. 352–57, no. 93; Kejř, ‘K privilegii knižete Soběslava II’. 42  On privileges for other ethnic groups: Kejř, Die mittel­alterlichen Städte, p. 395. 43  Against the hypothesis that the settlement of the Germans served as a model for the later development of the Old Town: Kejř, ‘Zwei Studien’, pp. 116–19. 44  Diplomata et chronica historiam locationis Teutonicorum illustrantia, ed. by Helbig and Weinrich, pp. 352, 354. 45  Johanek, ‘“Ostkolonisation” und Städtegründung’. 46  Tomek, Geschichte der Stadt Prag, p. 191f. n. 16f.; Schneider, ‘Eberhardus, magister monete per Boemiam’.

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Figure 9.3. View of the so-called Town of St Gall, Prague. Photo by the author.

and agricultural trading point with an adjacent church at its northern end.47 The planned nature of these founding initiatives, promoted by a colonizing ethnic group, makes Prague a particular case study for examining a process that applied an already existing urban legal structure (Lokationsstadt) from Bohemia (figs 9.3, 9.4).48 The identification of the residences of the new wave of Germanic settlers is a matter of continuing academic discussion, but it is reasonable to locate them close to the market at the central square of the settlement. The legal foundation of the Old Town of Prague is closely intertwined with the establishment of major settlements of these immigrants and parallel fortification activities. The rampart, it seems, paved the way to the abolition of the separate settlement zones with their individual juridical systems in order to support a strengthened single entity. From a military perspective, the fortification greatly enhanced the town’s defences. 47  Mendl, ‘Vici Theutonicorum’; Kalina, ‘Přispěvek k založení Starého Města’, p. 79; Petitova-Bénoliel, L’Eglise à Prague, p. 85 (fig. 8). 48  Kejř, Die mittel­alterlichen Städte, pp.  38, 205–12; Gawlas, ‘Die Lokationswende’, pp. 95, 99; Piekalski, ‘Städtebildende Funktionen’, p. 137.

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Figure 9.4. Church of St Gall, Prague. Photo by the author.

49 

The Dominicans were the first representatives of the newly established mendicant orders to settle in Prague during the time of accelerated urban growth. Their arrival, initiated by the master general, Jordan of Saxony (d. 1237), coincided with the return trip of the first provincial, Gerard of Wrocław, from Paris to Cracow. 49 The Order of Preachers, supported by the bishop of Prag ue, Peregrinus (d. 1229), took up residence on the periphery of the existing Teutonic district around the year 1226, at the parish church of St  Clement (fig.  9.5). This was close to a group with a linguistic affinity and receptive to a new modus of pastoral care.50 That meant that the houses of both mendicant orders were initially located on the periphery of a dwelling area that was designed to become a zone extra muros.51

It was not, as hagio­graphic tradition alleges, commissioned by the Polish nobleman and later St Hyacinth (1183–1257). This Dominican pioneer, educated as a canon in Paris, Prague, Cracow, and Bo­logna, entered the order in 1220 during a stay in Rome, and was put in charge of the order’s first house in East Central Europe, the Trinity Church in Cracow, by his relative, Bishop Iwo in 1222. See Dekański, Początki zakonu dominikanów, pp. 67–84; Černušák, ‘Vznik provincie’, pp. 19–23; RBM i, 438, no. 942; CDB iii.1, 231, no. 184. 50  Černušak, ‘Vznik provincie’, p. 21; Letopisy české od roku 1196 do roku 1278, ed. by Emler, p. 284; Loenertz, ‘Un ancienne chronique’, p. 13; Kłoczowski, ‘Dominicans’, pp. 73–77; On the church see: Huml, ‘Kostel sv. Klimenta’. 51  Forthcoming on this topic the volume Extra muros, ed. by Thewes and Uhrmacher. Apart from reasons connected with intra-urban considerations of prosperity, safety reasons,

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Shortly before or contemporaneous with the erection of the city wall, the last military order, the Templars, arrived in 1232 and settled in the intra muros area. This location indicates that the plan of the town’s development was already taking shape. The Templars’ church of St Laurence (Svatý Vavřinec) was located close to the town centre, demonstrating a pre-planned decision of urban integration.52 The complex was handed over to the Hospitallers after the dissolution of the Order of the Temple in 1312, before passing to the female Dominicans a year later. As a result, this early building does not survive.53

Adjustments and New Foundations in the Legally Constituted Old Town The religious orders who arrived subsequently needed to adapt to the town’s existing layout, whereas the existing orders had to react to the town’s development. Where possible they moved their locations and reshaped their foundations in a process characterized as inurbamento.54 The Friars Minor, who after initial failed attempts at expansion, arrived in 1232 from southern German regions (Mainz or Worms), and were accommodated by King Wenceslas near the newly built merchants’ emporium, later called the Ungelt or Tein court (fig. 9.6).55 That court, located only a few minutes from the church of St Gall and in the neighbourhood of the church of St Mary with its small hospital, served as a seat for royal servants who represented the town’s lord (Stadtherr) and whose task was to collect the indebitum or Ungelt, a tax placed on every stock of goods.56 That the followers of St Francis settled so near the dwellings occupied predominantly by German merchants was not a coincidence, especially protection from warriors and attacks could have motivated the transfer of location. 52  Uhlířova, Historie des Templerordens; Jan, ‘Böhmische und mährische Adelige’, p. 311f. 53  The female Dominicans settled in the ‘civitas minor’ in 1293 at St Anne’s and embarked on a major rebuilding of the complex; a cloister and church for the sisters were erected from 1319 onwards; see RBM ii, 706, no. 1648; RBM iii, 58, no. 136. Koudelka, ‘Zur Geschichte der böhmischen Dominikanerprovinz II’, p. 157; on the female institutions in Prague see Nový, ‘Ženské řeholní a laické komunity’, p. 43. 54  Accroca, ‘Dall’alternanza’, pp. 51, 53. 55  Annalium Pragensium, ed. by Köpke and Wattenbach, p. 171. On the friars’ impact in the lands of the Bohemian Crown: Šmahel, ‘Intra et extra muros’; Elm, ‘Sacrum commercium’; Felskau, ‘Economy-Related Sources’, p. 33. On the importance of Konrad of Worms for Princess Agnes (1211–82) see Jordan of Giano, Chronicle, ed. by Schlageter, p. 114f. 56  Goliński, ‘Ku rekonstrukcji’; Hrdlička, Dragoun, and Richterová, ‘Praha I. Staré Město, Ungelt’; Mendl, Z hospodarských dějin, p. 10f.

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Figure 9.5. Prague, St Clement’s Church extra muros. Photo from Wikimedia Commons (CC-BY-SA-3.0).

since the expansion of the Franciscan order in the region was led by Germanspeaking ministers such as John di Piano di Carpine (d. 1252) or supported by the provincials of German-speaking origin such as Konrad of Worms.57 The friary church became the second biggest ecclesiastical building in the Old Town and was dedicated not to the founding saint of the order, but to St James. From at least as early as the fourteenth century it served as a meeting place for important assemblies such as urban gatherings, country diets, or councils (fig. 9.7).58 57  This affinity remained during the fourteenth century when the refectorium of the cloister consecrated to St James was used on several occasions as an assembly venue for the country’s estate or regional councils; cf. Privilegia civitatum Pragensium, i, ed. by Čelakovský, pp. 68–70 no. 45; p. 175f., no. 108; pp. 190–93 no. 121; Tomek, Dějepis města Prahy, ii, 149; Šmahel, ‘Intra et extra muros’, p. 280 identifies the proximity to the trading activities as one of the major motivations to settle intra muros. 58  Stüderli, ‘Minoriten- und andere Mendikanten-Niederlassungen’, p. 245; Frank, ‘Bettel­ ordenskirchen’; Felskau, Agnes von Böhmen, p. 484.

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Figure 9.6. Ungelt court, Prague. Photo by the author.

The preaching activities of the Franciscans at the royal court moved the sister of King Wenceslas I, Princess Agnes (d. 1282), to become the founder of two institutions that exemplify what historians have labelled as the ‘evangelical awakening’ during a period of urban prosperity.59 Soon after the death of her cousin and role model, Princess Elisabeth of Thuringia (or Hungary, d. 1231, canonized 1235), Agnes founded a convent for ‘Poor Ladies’ (pauperes dominae) as part of the emerging ordo Sancti Damiani and a hospital (claustrum) near the parish church of St Castulus.60 Both houses, which were attached to each other, were completed in 1234/35 and were dedicated to St Francis.61 Presumably, they were placed on the banks of the Moldave for a series of practi59 

Soukupová, Svatá Anežka; Šmied and Záruba, eds, Svatá Anežka Česká; and Polehla and Kubín, Církev, žena a společnost; in English: Newmann, ‘Agnes of Prague’; Felskau and Mueller, ‘A Dowry Given, Returned’; Chenu, ‘The Evangelical Awakening’. In a broader Central European context: Klaniczay, Holy Rulers, pp. 99–113; Felskau, ‘Agnes und die Anderen’. 60  Annalium Pragensium, ed. by Köpke and Wattenbach, p. 170 (1233: ‘Agnes, filia regis Prziemysl, assumpsit habitum pauperum dominarum’). See also the first royal privilege by her royal brother Wenceslas: CDB iii.1, 65f., no. 62, dated from 21 March 1234. Summarized by: Líbal, ‘Časové zaření’. 61  The king and her sister are reputed to have convinced the Friars Minor to renounce the patrocinium of their community; see Felskau, Agnes von Böhmen, p. 172f. n. 115–17, and p. 175.

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cal and spiritual reasons (figs 9.8, 9.9). Firstly, proximity to the river gave immediate access to water necessary for the health care duties conducted in the hospital.62 Secondly, the purchase of the site by the rich Prague citizen Reinhard Niger for the king might have been the only negotiable or most convenient space of a suitable size available at the time.63 Thirdly, the position at the edge of the Old Town demonstrated a spiritual distance from the trading core of the settlement.64 In this respect, historians have interpreted this plot of land as an architectural manifestation of the juxtaposition between earthly and heavenly worlds.65 From a more practical perspective, this place could have been chosen for establishing another religious institution at the city walls that were under construction. Due to papal intervention, Agnes’s plan, a female foundation sine proprio under the spiritual care of the Friars Minor and spatially and legally combined with a charitable institution, inspired by her pen friend Clare of Assisi (d. 1253)66 and her cousin Elisabeth, was destined to fail. This failure made it necessary to reconsider the plan, and this in turn had an impact on the location of other religious houses in the following years.67 62 

The literature frequently hints at the need for water supplies for hospitals, see Courtenay, ‘The Hospital of Notre Dame’, p. 91; on the other hand, that water supply could also be used for protecting urban districts from fire as happened in Bratislava/Pressburg, where the local Poor Clares had to provide a cart filled with water; Kamenický, ‘Brandschutz’, p. 153. 63  See the king’s charter from 29 March 1234 in CDB iii.1, 67f., no. 64; Beran, Blahoslavená Anežka Česka, p. 46. 64  On the topo­g raphical juxtaposition of the female monastery as representation of the heavenly court and the royal castle as representation of the earthly court: Klaniczay, Heilige, Hexen, Vampire, p. 20. 65  Hindin, ‘Gothic Goes East’, pp.  374, 389; Jäggi, Frauenklöster im Spätmittel­alter, pp. 40–45, 202–05. 66  Out of the vast literature on this subject see Mueller, The Privilege of Poverty. See also her legend, composed in the first third of the fourteenth century Legenda blahoslavené Anežky a čtyři listy sv. Kláry, ed. by Vyskočil, p. 108 (conversio); interesting are the partial accounts at the end, before the famous four letters of St Clare are inserted, p. 135. For the earliest version see Seton, Some New Sources. 67  The brotherhood must have received Franciscan constitutions in its beginnings from John di Pian di Carpine (see the indirect hint in RBM i, 438, no. 942); Felskau, Agnes von Böhmen, pp. 254–58; only the extracts of the statutes issued in 1292 are preserved (Wrocław, Biblioteka Uniwersytetcka we Wrocławiu, Sign. IV Q 198; Jacksche, Geschichte des ritterlichen Ordens, pp. 144–46) and the unedited so-called Constitutiones Zdenkonis from 1404 (Wrocław, Archivum Państwowe we Wrocławiu, Repertorium 66). On the change of the Franciscan position of caring for the poor to establishing themselves within the urban context see Alberzoni, ‘Elisabeth von Thüringen’.

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Figure 9.7. St James’s Franciscan Church, Prague. Photo by the author.

Figure 9.8. St Agnes’s double monastery, Prague. Source: Soukupová, Svatá Anežka Česka, 2015, p. 18.

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Figure 9.9. St Saviour’s chapel in St Agnes’s monastery, Prague. Photo by the author.

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Figure 9.10. St Peter’s Church, Prague. Emblem with a cross referring to the presence of the Crusaders of the Red Star.

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Figure 9.11. Main entrance to St Peter’s Church, Prague. Photos by the author.

Already in 1233, the Teutonic Order had handed the possession of the church of St Peter in the Poříč district into royal hands as part of a larger transaction triggered by Queen Dowager Constance, with the aim of granting this property to the hospital of St Francis.68 Most likely, the brethren of the hospital moved to their new residence extra muros in 1238/39, soon after their legal separation from the female convent. At that time, the Teutonic knights must have already left this initial accommodation and moved to a place nearer to the trading centre within the city walls, close to a newly constructed city gate.69 Here, they erected the church of St Benedict, which became the com68 

On the complex transactions of the replacements: Joachimová, ‘Fundace královny Konstancie’; ‘Prodej Přeštického újezdu’; see also Wihoda, ‘Příchod řádu německých rytířů’. 69  This movement into the city is analysed in several case studies including Franks Johnson, Monastic Women, pp. 169–235. On fortification: Státníkova and others, Dějiny Prahy, pp. 91–96.

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mandery of the Bohemian Balley of the order, but unfortunately it is not preserved.70 This change of location by the Teutonic Order was most likely linked to the royal patronage of the hospital community under Franciscan g uidance, which by now was already changed into an canonical order.71 They established a temporary residence at St Peter’s in the belief that this would be a short, temporary phase until they could find a more convenient and adequate site (figs 9.10, 9.11). At that time, in the area the Damianites, nowadays called ‘Na Františků’, a Fran­ ciscan friary replaced the hospital, while the complex was partially integrated into the newly erected city wall Figure 9.12. Facade of St Clement’s Church with the and located close to its most Klementinum complex, Prague. Photo by the author. northern gate, suitably named ‘porta circa S. Franciscum’ (gate around St Francis).72 From an architectural perspective, this first Franciscan double monastery north of the Alps was one of the earliest Gothic buildings in Bohemia. It gained particular importance as a royal mausoleum: King Wenceslas I, after his second coronation in this foundation in 1249, and several princesses of the Přemyslids were buried 70  A map with the religious institutions in the vicinity was compiled by Vyšohlíd, ‘Náměstí republiky (Republic Square) in Prague’, p. 206; Adam, Němečtí rytíři, p. 64. First reference: 10 December 1255, CDB v.1, 116f., no. 58. 71  14 April 1237; CDB iii.1, 196f., no. 160; Mueller, A Companion to Clare, p. 150. 72  Mention of the city gate is made in Liber vetustissimus antiquae civitatis Pragensis 1310–1518, ed. by Pátková, p. 461 (only in the year 1500); Tomek, Geschichte der Stadt Prag, p. 243s. On the development of this house: Felskau, Agnes von Böhmen, pp. 484–99.

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Figure 9.13. Unknown painter, Charles Bridge in Prague, second half of the eighteenth century. St Anne’s church, Lubawka. Source: Niedzielenko and Vlnas, Schlesien – die Perle in der Krone Böhmens, pp. 322–24, no. III.1.10.

there.73 With the construction of St Saviour’s chapel by Agnes’s nephew, King Ottokar II, this architectural complex was to become the most prestigious quarter in the Old Town.74 Coincidently, another institution decided to change its position extra muros in the Poříč district in favour of a place within the city walls: the Dominicans moved from their house of St Clement’s to a large space close to the eastern wing of the ‘Judith’ bridge, where they erected their new church, consecrated to the same saint. The earliest structures of this church did not survive, as it was replaced in early modern times by the Jesuit church of St Saviour’s and incorporated into the bigger complex named Klementinum, which currently houses the National Library (fig. 9.12).75 73 

Soukupová, Anežský klášter. On his coronation see only Chronicon Marignolla, ed. by Emler and Erbent, p. 564; on the use of the monastery of St Francis as a royal burial place: Soukupová, ‘Přemysl Ottakar II. A program’. 74  On the artistic and political context: Kuthan, Přemysl Ottakar II., pp. 218–84. 75  In 1248, the first provincial chapter took place in this spacious building which housed

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Figure 9.14. St Francis’s Church, Prague. Photo by the author.

Within less than a decade, the Friars Preachers had new and mighty neighbours. The Order of the Crusaders of the Red Star, initially established by Agnes under the Franciscan rule, had changed into an ordo canonicus following the rule of St Augustine with the Dominicans as visitators (fig. 9.10).76 The order was bestowed with further hospitals and large land grants in the vicinity of Prague, and was finally elevated to the status of an autonomous order with its own signum in 1252/53, at the same time as they moved to a large complex at the bridgehead of the ‘Judith’ bridge.77 Frequent references to the the studium generale in the fourteenth century: Koudelka, ‘Zur Geschichte der böhmischen Dominikanerprovinz’, p. 138f. 76  22 April 1238; CDB iii.1, 231, no. 184; Mueller, A Companion to Clare of Assisi, p. 150. 77  See for instance the incorporation of the Mies hospital: 28 December 1244: CDB

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site as being ‘in pede pontis civitatis Pragensis’ (on the foot of the bridge of the city of Prague) found in charters and chronicles are not merely a topo­graphic reference, as they reveal the role the religious orders played in strategically significant places. One such role was the privilege to collect the bridge tax from passing boats, which was then used mostly for restoration works on the bridge and upkeep costs used for the monastery.78 The Order of the Crusaders of the Red Star was not the only new charitable institution called crucigeri following the lifestyle of canons regular. A monastery of the Order of the Knights of the Cross/Crosiers with the Red Heart approved by Pope Alexander IV (d. 1261) in 1256 and known as the ‘ordo S. Augustini de poenitentia beatorum’ or Cyriacs, was erected in the late 1250s with the support of King Ottokar II. Located not far from the Franciscan double monastery, their church dedicated to the Larger Cross (kostel sv. Kříže Většího) no longer survives.79 Little is known about the early history of their house, but we do know that the order took care of the sick. Their existence was comparably more difficult as they did not attract wealthy benefactors in the manner of the Order of the Crusaders of the Red Star, the only military order of Bohemian origin.80

iv.1, 139, no. 55; the application of an autonomous signum: CDB iv.1, 350f., 422f., nos 191, 245; CDB v.1, 97f., no. 46. In the years ahead, the cloister and the hospital of St Francis, to whom they also consecrated their new church, were directed by aspiring nobility like the Sternbergs (first magister of the community), who maintained close ties to the royal court or the king himself. Hence royal influence in the town was strengthened, and allowed, moreover, the landed gentry to direct its activities to the new urban centres: Felskau, ‘Agnes’ gestiftete caritas’, p. 123, map 6; Lorenz, Die Kreuzherren, pp. 18–21, 134f. 78  Felskau, ‘Autonomie und Zusammengehörigkeit’, p. 36. On the bridge tax collected: Jacksche, Geschichte des ritterlichen Ordens, p. 17f.; Wojtyła, Idea ordo militaris, pp. 35–39. 79  Nowadays there is a neo-renaissance school building on the site in Dušni Street čp. 886: see the identification in Vlček and others, Umělecké památky Prahy (inside cover). On the foundation of the institution: Les Registres d’Alexandre IV, i, ed. by Bourel de La Roncière, p. 391f., no. 1310; Pulkavae Chronicon, ed. by Emler and Erbent, p. 148; Zimmermann, Denkmäler, pp. 8–10; Hledíková, ‘Rad Krizovniků červenym srdcem’, p. 211f. 80  Hledíková, ‘Pražský klášter cyriaků’, p. 256f. In the second volume of the RBM, covering the period to 1310, there is no entry on this institution.

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Reflections on the Old Town of Prague and the Integration of Religious Houses during its Constitutional Phase In conclusion, if the urban topo­graphy of Prague’s Old Town as established by the end of the thirteenth century is reviewed, it becomes clear that the distribution of important religious institutions did not result from accidental individual decisions, but rather was the outcome of complex strategies that sought to locate these institutions at important sites in the urban structure. These included communications and transportation locations at bridgeheads and the thirteen city gates, both portae and smaller ones known as valvae.81 The Teutonic Knights took on defensive duties at one of the key city gates, evidenced in the earliest urban record of the Old Town.82 The Friars Preachers, for instance, were in charge of the night watch and other alerts from inside or outside the city.83 Likewise, the Friars Minor at the gate (‘porta circa S. Franciscum’) were able to control entry into the city from the north-east (fig. 9.14). Important functions at the bridgeheads were given to the Hospitallers, and later to the uniquely Bohemian Order of the Crusaders of the Red Star, an order which was strongly supported by rich burghers and the higher Bohemian nobility. It was in the interest of both the town and the Crown to support the development of these institutions, not only for the sake of intra-urban control but as part of wider politics. With the order’s expansion in Bohemia and Poland, the crusaders functioned as a counterpart to the more international hospital orders like the Teutonic Knights and as a pillar of Přemyslid politics.84 The movement towards intra muros therefore was not solely in the interest of the orders themselves to secure their own safety, but also had external strategic and political purposes that contributed to their final location within the urban topo­graphy of Prague.85 Locating mendicant, military, and charitable orders at 81 

On the potential symbolic meaning of the number of city gates see the remarks of Ferrari, ‘Die Porta Romana in Mailand’, pp. 121–24. As for the roads in Prague, see the illustrative map in Líbal and Muk, eds, Staré město pražské, p. 31f. 82  Adam, Němečtí rytíři, p. 64; Powierski, ‘Studia nad polityką krzyżaków’; De Smet, ‘Heavenly Quiet’. Night watchers, the so-called Türmer, professional tower men, alerted for fires and attacks by sounding a trumpet: Engel and Jacob, Städtisches Leben, p. 51. 83  Koutek, Městské brány, pp. 18–21, 94–102. On the meaning of gate names in general: Opll, ‘Trennen und Verbinden’. 84  Słoń, ‘Städtische Lokation und kirchliches Stiftungsprogramm’, p. 114, emphasizes the episcopal as well as ducal interest in the creation of monastic networks within the urban structure of other eastern European towns. 85  Ollé, ‘The Question of the Spatial Identification’, assesses the assumptions on their

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Prague’s bridgeheads or city gates was not so innovative or unique, with similar cases found during growth of other European cities.86 In Regensburg, for example, the hospital of St Catherine was built at a bridgehead on the Danube and it too had legal privileges, showing remarkable affinities with Prague in terms of the organization of the surrounding space.87 Prague and its urban planning, or at least important aspects of it, also became a model for other places. One has to bear in mind that the aspiring town under the rule of the Přemyslid kings, Wenceslas I and Ottokar II, was constantly attracting other rulers and many merchants. Political gatherings, solemn feasts, in addition to pilgrimages to shrines and graves of deceased rulers, as well as commercial interests, brought many to Prague, a town that was seen as pleasing and well organized and as a potential model for their home region.88 With regards to the foundation deeds of Princess Agnes, a very strong resemblance can be seen with Breslau/Wrocław under the rule of the Piasts and the activities of her sister, Princess Anne of Silesia (d. 1265).89 Two foundation charters, issued at Anne’s instigation in 1253, led to the establishment of a Poor Clare monastery and transformed the already existing modest hospital of St Elisabeth of Hungary located close to the unloading area on the banks of the Oder into a house of the Crusaders of the Red Star.90 The charitable community took care of the sick and was at the same time bestowed with control over transportation of goods into the inner part of the Wrocław settlement.91 Last but not least, Princess Agnes’s Franciscan double monastery became a model and a reference point for other religious foundations in Moravia and Bohemia, such as Znojmo/Znaim, and to a certain extent also Olmütz/Olomouc.92

location as argued by Gilomen, ‘Stadtmauern und Bettelorden’ and Baeriswyl, ‘Klöster am Stadtrand?’. 86  Summarizing the evidence for Bohemia: Kejř, Die Mittel­alterlichen Städte, p. 357f. 87  Dirmeier, ‘St Katharinenspital und Steinerne Brücke’; for a visiual illustration see the map on . 88  Hrdina, ‘Die Topo­graphie der Wallfahrtsorte’. 89  Gąsiorowska, ‘Fundacje Anny śląskiej’; Rossignol, ‘The Authority’. Further contributions are integrated into the volumes devoted to St Agnes, see above, n. 62. Małachowicz, Książęce rezydencje. 90  Felskau, ‘Das Franziskushospital in Prag und das Matthiasstift in Breslau’; Słoń, Die Spitäler Breslaus. 91  Słoń, ‘Warum nur ein Breslau?’. 92  Machilek, ‘Die Přemysliden, Piasten und Arpaden und der Klarissenorden’.

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Conclusions What makes the case of Prague so unique is that the arrival of new religious institutions coincided closely with the formation of the Old Town as a civitas. As demonstrated in this study, the religious orders, and above all the mendicants, played an integral part in Prague’s urban development. In the initial stages of establishing the Old Town there were three military orders and two hospitals present; towards the end of the process, the town had five knightly, charitable orders and no less than four mendicant houses, three male and one female.93 The mendicants arrived there not as an element of urban settlement but as promoters of an ongoing urban development.94 The rapid pace of change created challenges that forced some institutions to relocate. The selection of places, the positioning and re-positioning of the religious institutions seems to be, at least in the case of the rare evidence, the result of negotiations between the founders, sometimes the strong promoters, the king or his representative as lord of the town as the permitting instance, and the leading groups (Führungsgruppen) of Prague.95 Admittedly, the negotiations underpinning the town’s growth, the acquisition of ground, and the financing of the new houses were not dealt with here, mainly because they are rarely documented. The overriding question as to whether religious communities had to catch up with the redefined spatial development or whether they themselves were driving factors in the process remains a matter of discussion.96 Undoubtedly, the final location of the religiones novae consolidated an urban sacred topo­graphy that best fulfilled their own needs as well as those of the urban inhabitants, the constantly increas93 

Wenceslai I. regis historia, ed. by Köpke and Wattenback, p. 167. The influence of the individual institution on the urban life and its participation within its social economic life can be investigated on a solid base only for the fourteenth century when the source material offers deeper insights: see for instance for the Hospitallers: Mitáček, ‘K otázce měšťanského živlu’. In a broader European context: Romhányi, ‘Mendicant Networks’. 95  E.g. the tax exemption of King Wenceslav I granted on 29 March 1234 for the burgher Ulrich Niger/Schwarz, who most probably gave the ground for the construction of the Clarissan-Franciscan double cloister (CDB iii.1, 67f., no. 64). Cf. the summary at Kejř, Die mittel­ alterlichen Städte, p. 353; Piekalski, ‘Städtebildende Funktionen’, pp. 140, 144, describes the positioning of Mendicants in the centre of developed towns as a distinct phenomenon of Central Europe. 96  Weighing the degree of planning (Stadtbildung) and unplanned development (Stadtwerdung) remains a continuous matter of academic discussion: Klápště, ‘Zu den Anfängen des böhmischen Städtewesens’; Žemlička, ‘The King and “his” Town’. For a broader discussion cf. the recent contributions (From Western Europe) in Abel, ed., Medi­eval Urban Planning. 94 

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ing number of influential cives. At the same time, this new structure reflected political plans and social networks, economic ambitions, and local relations. The splendour and prestige that the Old Town of Prague achieved through the presence of many religious institutions in the first half of the thirteenth century make that period markedly unique in the city’s history.

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Works Cited Manu­scripts and Archival Sources Wrocław, Archivum Państwowe we Wrocławiu, Repertorium 66 Wrocław, Biblioteka Uniwersytetcka we Wrocławiu, Sign. IV Q 198

Primary Sources Annalium Pragensium, pt i, ed. by Rudolf Köpke and Wilhelm Wattenbach, in Monumenta Germaniae historica: Scriptores, 9 (Hannover: Hahn, 1851), pp. 169–81 [accessed 1 February 2019] Chronicon Marignolla, ed. by Karl J. Emler and Josef Erben, in Fontes rerum Bohemicarum, iii (Prague: Nákl. Musea Královstvi Českého, 1882), pp. 487–606 Codex diplomaticus et epistularis regni Bohemiae, ed.  by Gustav Friedrich and others (Prague: Ceskoslovenská Akademie Věd, 1904–2013) [accessed 1 June 2019] Diplomata et chronica historiam locationis Teutonicorum illustrantia: Urkunden und erzählende Quellen zur deutschen Ostsiedlung, ed.  by Herbert Helbig and Lorenz Weinrich, ii (Darm­stadt: Wissen­schaft­liche Buch­g esell­schaft, 1970) Jordan of Giano, Chronicle, ed. by Johannes Schlageter, Chronik vom Anfang der Minder­ brüder besonders in Deutschland (Chronica Fratri Jordani), Quellen zur franziskani­ schen Geschichte, 1 (Norderstedt: Books on Demand, 2012) Kosmas von Prag, Die Chronik der Böhmen des Kosmas von Prag, ed. by Berthold Bretholz, in Monumenta Germaniae historica: Scriptores rerum Germanicarum, 2 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1923; repr. 1995) [accessed 1 February 2019] Legenda blahoslavené Anežky a čtyři listy sv. Kláry: Překlad středověkého životopisu blahoslavené Anežky dle nejstaršího latinského milánského rukopisu ze začátku XIV. století, ed. by Jan K. Vyskočil (Prague: Universum, 1932) Letopisy české od roku 1196 do roku 1278, ed. by Josef Emler, in Fontes rerum Bohemicarum, iii (Prague: Musea Království českého, 1874), pp. 282–303 Liber vetustissimus antiquae civitatis Pragensis, 1310–1518, ed.  by Hana Pátková, Documenta Pragensia mono­graphia, 25 (Prague: Scriptorium, 2011) Loenertz, Raymond-J., ‘Un ancienne chronique des provinciaux dominicains de Po­logne’, Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, 21 (1951), 6–15 Monumenta Vaticana res gestas Bohemicas illustrantia, vi: Acta Innocentii VII, Gregorii XII, Alexandri V, Johanni XXIII nec non acta concilii Constantiensis (1404–1417), ed. by Jaroslav Eršil (Prague: Gregorius et alii, 1980) Privilegia civitatum Pragensium: Privilegia měst Prazských, ed.  by Jaromír Čelakovský, Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae, 1 (Prague: Grégor, 1886) Pulkavae Chronicon, ed. by Karl J. Emler and Josef Erben, in Fontes rerum Bohemicarum, v (Prague: Nakl. Františka Palackého, 1893), pp. 3–207

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Regesta diplomatica nec non epistolaria Bohemiae et Moraviae, ed. by Karl J. Erben and Josef Emler, i: 600–1253 and ii: 1253–1310 (Prague: Haase, 1855, 1882; repr. Hildes­heim: Olms, 2007) [accessed 1 February 2019] Les Registres d’Alexandre  IV: Recueil des bulles de ce pape, ed.  by Charles Bourel de La Roncière and others, Bibliothèque des Ecoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome, 2.15, 3 vols (Paris: Thorin, 1902, 1950, 1952) Series ducum et regum Bohemiae, ed. by Gelasius Dobner, in Scriptores rerum Bohemicarum, ii (Prague: Societas scientiarum Bohemicae, 1784), pp. 427–34 Seton, Walter, Some New Sources for the Life of Blessed Agnes of Bohemia; Including a FourteenthCentury Latin Version, Publications of the British Society of Franciscan Studies, 7 (Aberdeen: Longmans, Green & Co, 1915; repr. Charleston: BiblioLife, 2010) Wenceslai  I. regis historia (Continuatio Cosmae), ed.  by Rudolph Köpke and Wilhelm Watten­­bach, in Monumenta Germaniae historica: Scriptores, 9 (Hannover: Hahn, 1851), pp. 167–69 [accessed 1 February 2019]

Secondary Works Abel, Mickey, ed., Medi­eval Urban Planning: The Monastery and Beyond (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Scholars, 2017) Accroca, Felice, ‘Dall’alternanza all’alternativa. Eremo e città nel primo secolo dell’Ordine francescano: Una rivisitazione attraverso gli scritti di Francesco e le fonti agiografiche’, Via spiritus, 9 (2002), 7–60 Adam, Petr, Němečtí rytíři: malý úvod do historie Německého řádu se zvláštním přihlédnutím k dějinám Českomoravské komorní bailivy, Accademia Cristiana: Studium, 112 (Svi­ tavy: Trinitas, 1998) Alberzoni, Maria P., ‘Elisabeth von Thüringen, Klara von Assisi und Agnes von Böhmen. Das franziskanische Modell der Nachfolge Christi diesseits und jenseits der Alpen’, in Elisabeth von Thüringen: Eine europäische Heilige: Aufsätze, ed. by Dieter Blume and Matthias Werner (Petersberg: Imhof, 2007), pp. 47–56 Anisimova, Anna, Town and Monastery in Medi­eval England, Based on Material of SouthEast Counties [accessed 12 February 2016] Auge, Oliver, ‘“… ne pauperes et debiles in … domo degentes divinis careant” — Sakralreligiöse Aspekte der Hospitalgeschichte’, in Sozialgeschichte mittel­alterlicher Hospi­ täler, ed. by Neithard Bulst and Karl-Heinz Spie, Vorträge und Forschungen, 65 (Ost­ fildern: Thordecke, 2007), pp. 77–124 Baeriswyl, Armand, ‘Klöster am Stadtrand? Einige Überlegungen zur Lage von Bettel­ ordens­klöstern in der mittel­alterlichen Stadt’, in Monastisches Leben im urbanen Kon­ text, ed. by Anne-Marie Hecker and Susanne Röhl, Mittel­alterstudien, 24 (Munich: Fink, 2010), pp. 25–40 Beran, Josef, Blahoslavená Anežka Česka, Sůl země, 7 (Rome: Křest’anská akademie, 1974) Berend, Nora, Przemysław Urbańczyk, and Przemysław Wiszewski, Central Europe in the High Middle Ages: Bohemia, Hungary and Poland, c. 900 – c. 1300 (Cam­bridge: Cam­ bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 2013)

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Rivals to Cathedrals: The Architecture of Benedictine Churches in Northern France, 1100–1500 Dany Sandron*

I

f cathedrals are regarded as the emblematic monuments of episcopal cities, the Benedictine abbeys often founded in the early centuries of the Middle Ages represent a key element in the history of these towns, especially in France. From the time of their foundation, Benedictine abbeys were often used as episcopal necropoli, even claiming to have hosted the first episcopal sees. In many cases, they were named after canonized prelates, whose relics they preserved, such as Saint-Germain in Auxerre, Saint-Denis and Saint-Germain des-Prés in Paris, Saint-Martin in Tours, Saint-Remi in Reims, Saint-Martial in Limoges, Saint-Eloi in Noyon, and Saint-Ouen in Rouen (fig. 10.1). Originally built on sites of ancient necropoli, these abbeys ended up being located in the heart of new monastic towns or became part of existing towns, following the very dynamic phenomenon of urban expansion from the eleventh century onwards.1 The return of economic prosperity at that time prompted the reconstruction of many abbeys, that coincided with the construction of neighbouring cathedrals, thus nurturing a mutual imitation of their architectural styles. This phenomenon occurred throughout much of Christendom, but the scope of this short paper focuses on the northern part of medi­eval France.  

* I thank Dr Anne-Julie Lafaye for translating this text into English. Lavedan, Histoire de l’urbanisme, pp. 69–101.

1 

Dany Sandron ([email protected]) is Professor of Medi­eval Art History at Sorbonne Université, Faculté des Lettres/Centre André Chastel. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 257–276 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117266

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Institutional Autonomy and Architectural Choices This study aims to highlight the great potential of monastic architecture in assessing building activity in the later Middle Ages, particularly in the context of a rapidly changing urban world. The task is delicate because the losses caused by religious wars and later destructions, such as deliberate stylistic alterations, vandalism, and military conflicts, affected monastic architectural heritage, more so than that of cathedrals. It is important, however, to attempt to reconstruct the place of Benedictine monasteries in late medi­eval towns as they formed a key element of the physical and spiritual urban landscape. When considering the era of expansive building in northern France of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries,2 it is interesting to ponder the motivations of monastic communities in relation to their architectural choices, in particular by comparing their buildings to adjacent cathedral structures. Benedictine communities, unlike the Cistercians or later mendicant orders, were often keen to display their independence from episcopal power, an independence based legally on the privilege of exemption that made them directly dependent on the Holy See.  But this spirit of independence did not exist without its problems. The period covered in this paper abounds in conflicts between monastic communities and bishops, which regularly ended up with a papal decision in favour of the former. One of the most famous examples occurred on the day of the official consecration of the choir of Saint-Germain des Prés (fig. 10.2) on 25 April 1163, in the presence of Pope Alexander III, when the bishop of Paris, Maurice de Sully, was literally thrown out the door by the monks who could not tolerate his presence, as it risked creating a precedent for bishops to interfere in the affairs of the abbey.3 A few weeks later the bishop, also in the presence of the pope, celebrated the laying of the new Gothic cathedral’s foundation stone, which would end up exceeding any existing building in size.4 Beyond anecdotes, it is necessary to consider the impact that such difficult personal relationships had on architectural choices: often the abbeys’ building projects deliberately distinguished themselves from the cathedral model, a model that was otherwise widely followed in the construction of parochial or collegiate churches that used specific elements of it according to their financial means. The question can be posed: was the institutional position 2 

Kimpel and Suckale, L’architecture gothique en France. Plagnieux, ‘L’abbatiale de Saint-Germain des Prés’; Sandron, ‘Saint-Germain-des-Prés’, p. 122. 4  Sandron, ‘Le projet du XIIe siècle’, pp. 67–93; Sandron and Tallon, Notre-Dame de Paris. 3 

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Figure 10.1. The dioceses of northern France. Source: Guyotjeannin, Atlas de l’histoire de France, p. 18, map by Guillaume Balavoine.

Figure 10.2. Saint-Germain-desPrés, Paris, choir. Photo by A. Tallon.

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Figure 10.3. Saint-Remi, Reims. Photo courtesy of Centre André Chastel.

of Benedictine foundations and their independence from episcopal authority reflected in the architecture of their churches? It was not rare for Benedictine churches to be built on larger dimensions than neighbouring cathedrals, although themselves very respectable in size. This is evident in Reims, where the eleventh- and twelfth-century abbey of Saint-Remi (fig. 10.3) was larger than the cathedral until the latter’s reconstruction in the thirteenth century.5

The Abbey of Saint-Eloi, Noyon In Noyon, the abbey of Saint-Eloi (fig. 10.4), founded shortly after the death of its patron and local bishop in 606, was the object of an important rebuilding campaign at the beginning of the thirteenth century, when the construc5 

Prache, Saint-Remi de Reims.

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Figure 10.4. ‘La ville et citadelle de Noyon’, engraving by Claude Chastillon, first half of the seventeenth century with the ruins of Saint-Eloi Abbey visible on the far right. Image preserved in the Musée Jean Calvin in Noyon, reproduced in Claude Chastillon, Topo­graphie francoise, ou, Representations de plusieurs villes, bourgs, chasteaux, plans, forteresses, vestiges d’antiquites maisons modernes et autres du royaume de France, Paris: Louys Boissevin, 1655.

tion of the neighbouring cathedral was coming to an end.6 Abbot Raoul II (1197–1232) seems to have begun the construction of a new church in 1207 and the abbey’s choir was consecrated in 1240, on the feast of the Nativity of Mary, under Abbot Robert (1232–44).7 The detailed chrono­logy of the building’s western section is hard to establish as the abbey experienced a series of unfortunate incidents until it was completely destroyed. Damaged by the Burgundians in 1472, the abbey was the target of King Henri IV’s troops following their siege of the town in 1591. Following Noyon’s surrender, the king directed that a citadel be built on the site of the abbey, with the ruined church now placed in the middle of a bastion in the new defensive wall. Following the abbey’s affiliation to the Congregation of Saint-Maur, the monks left that site in 1638 to live within the safety of the town itself. In order to erect new buildings, the monks demolished what remained of their old abbey and used 6  7 

Sandron, ‘Un défi architectural monastique’. Gallia Christiana in provincias ecclesiasticas distributa, ix, col. 1059.

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Figure 10.5. Saint-Eloi Abbey, Noyon, plan by Dom Hilaire Pinet, 1659. Courtesy of Paris, Archives nationales, N III Oise 68/1.

Figure 10.6. Notre-Dame Cathedral, Paris, ground plan of the early thirteenth-century church. Source: Bony, French Gothic Architecture, p. 138.

Figure 10.7. Keystone of the apse of the former abbey of Saint-Eloi, Musée du Noyonnais, Noyon. Photo by the author.

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Figure 10.8. Noyon, cathedral, central nave. Photo by the author.

the building materials for foundations and a precinct wall. Anything left of the old abbey was removed in 1649 to free up space around the town, when it was threatened with another siege during the Fronde troubles. The modern development of the area around the train station in 1935 led to the discovery of foundations of the apse, specifically the remains of a semi-circular radiating chapel and some sculpted remains, now scattered throughout the town. Due to the survival of a plan of the Gothic abbey drawn in 1659 by Dom Hilaire Pinet, a member of the congregation (fig. 10.5), it is possible to understand more clearly the architectural ambition of the abbey and its place in architectural developments of the first half of the thirteenth century.8 8 

Paris, Arch. nat., N III Oise 68.

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It was a building of impressive dimensions, almost a hundred metres long and about forty metres wide, involving a compact plan: a facade with three portals and buttresses, the extent of which suggests the presence of two lateral towers, a five-aisled nave with five bays, the crossing marked by four great pillars and a non-protruding transept, four bays leading up to the apse where a semicircular ambulatory opened up onto five radiating chapels. The shape of the columns in the central and side aisles reflects monuments from the second half of the twelfth century, and the presence of five uninterrupted aisles immediately evokes Notre-Dame de Paris (fig. 10.6). Notre-Dame was a major source of inspiration for the architecture of Saint-Eloi, with the exception of the apse, where the choice of five polygonal chapels lit by three windows evoked elements from the contemporaneous apses of the cathedrals in Soissons or Reims. In the absence of any earlier drawings, the Gothic elevation of the abbey is difficult to recreate, except for the existence of arcades above the rows of columns again recalling Notre-Dame as well as slightly earlier buildings from northern France such as the cathedral of Châlons-sur-Marne or the Cistercian abbey of Longpont. The imposing keystone now housed in the Noyon Museum (fig. 10.7) indicates the existence of a quadripartite ribbed vault with an oblong plan. The work of Le Vasseur, a local seventeenth-century historian, also informs us that the north arm of the transept of Saint-Eloi had a rose window of ‘admirable beauty’.9 Begun in the early years of the thirteenth century, the abbey of Saint-Eloi was, indeed, competing with its neighbouring cathedral. Its architecture is clearly distinct from the cathedral (fig. 10.8), where the alternation of supports (columns and clustered piers) was preferred, as was an early six-celled vault, and where, unlike the abbey, there were no rose windows either in the transept or in the facade.10 Instead the abbey seems to have found inspiration first of all in NotreDame de Paris, both in its five uninterrupted aisles and the presence of great arcades supported by columns, one of the main characteristics of the Parisian nave. The history of Noyon Abbey explains to a certain extent these architectural choices. The apparent decision not to follow the example set by the cathedral of Noyon can be easily explained by the difficult relationship between the two institutions during the thirteenth century, as they both claimed to possess Saint-Eloi’s body, going as far as bringing the dispute to the parliament in Paris.11 9 

Le Vasseur, Annales de l’église cathédrale de Noyon, ii, 919. Seymour, La cathédrale Notre-Dame de Noyon. 11  Guyotjeannin, ‘Les reliques de Saint Eloi à Noyon’. 10 

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In these contradictory actions of rejection and attraction, respectively, towards Notre-Dame de Noyon and Notre-Dame de Paris, the abbey of SaintEloi expressed in stone the highest ambition of its monks, which was to create the most venerated sanctuary in the diocese with the relic of its eponymous saint. The reference to Notre-Dame de Paris went beyond vague architectural comparisons. At the gates of Noyon this gigantic monument rose, probably one of the most ambitious projects of the first half of the thirteenth century and comparable to the basilica of Saint-Quentin in the north of the diocese. It was located only a few hundred metres away from the cathedral, with the aim of heralding its own claim to fame in a visible challenge to episcopal authority. It is possible that the magnificence of the cathedral’s facade, at odds with the more modest scale of the remainder of the building, was in fact the bishop’s and the chapter’s answer to the megalomaniac ambitions of the neighbouring abbey. The rivalry between two religious institutions, echoed in the architecture by means of two different visual statements, was not an exception. Other episcopal cities offer further evidence of such animosities.

Soissons, Marmoutier, and Limoges Located in the same ecclesiastical province as Reims, the monastery of SaintCrépin-le-Grand in Soissons was founded in the fifth century over the tombs of Sts Crepin and Crepinien. It became an abbey under Bishop Saint-Bandry, and adopted the Benedictine rule in the seventh or more likely in the tenth century.12 The monks, who had settled from the early Middle Ages at Soissons’s gates, on the road to Reims, had decided to rebuild their abbey at the beginning of the thirteenth century, pursuing a grandiose project from which only the choir ever materialized. In 1235, a grant of wood from the nearby forest of Castres ‘pro dicto novo opere cooperiendo’ (for the said new work of roofing) indicates that the choir was almost finished. The project, interrupted during the Hundred Years’ War, never resumed afterwards. The dedication ceremony took place as late as 1548 and only pertained to the eastern section of the building. The upper levels were destroyed soon after when the Huguenots took the town in 1567. The sixteenth- and seventeenth-century restorations were limited to throwing ribbed vaults with liernes and tiercerons over the central aisle just above the great arcades. The truncated building survived until the Revolution, when the rest of the abbey was destroyed. 12 

Ancien, ‘L’abbaye Saint-Crépin-le-Grand de Soissons’; Sandron, Picardie gothique, pp. 360–61.

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Figure 10.9. Saint-Crépin-le-Grand, Soissons, plan dated to 1657. Courtesy of Paris, Archives nationales, N III Aisne 69/2.

The choir plan was worthy of a cathedral: three straight naves were lined with double side aisles and led to a five-sided apse surrounded by a simple ambulatory onto which opened five radiating chapels, of which the central chapel was the most significant. This plan could be compared to that of the choir of Saint-Remi in Reims, a foundation with strong connections to SaintCrépin, but also to the cathedral of Chartres. Unfortunately, the elevation can

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Figure 10.10. Saint-Crépin-le-Grand, Soissons. Source: Monasticon gallicanum, Fonds Gaillard, Centre André Chastel.

be reconstructed only as far as the level of the great arcades (fig. 10.9). The central nave was flanked by large columns with colonettes which would have supported clusters of colonettes presumably rising up to the vaults. It is likely that above these were a triforium and high windows as in the cathedral. The size and structure of the apse (fig. 10.10), still impressive in the eighteenth century, suggest a gigantic project that originally would have competed with the cathedral. At the gates of Tours on the north bank of the Loire, the monks of the abbey of Marmoutier, founded in the fourth century by Saint-Martin, the first bishop of Tours, decided to rebuild their church at the beginning of the thirteenth century (fig. 10.11).13 The project started with the building of the nave in 1214 under Abbot Hugues des Roches, and the choir was erected later by Abbots Robert de Flandres and Eudes de Bracieux. Once finished, the new abbey was almost one hundred and thirty metres long, about fifteen more than the Gothic cathedral of Saint-Gatien, the construction of which had begun in the 1220s, 13 

Lelong, L’abbaye de Marmoutier.

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Figure 10.11. Marmoutier, the abbey as depicted in the seventeenth century. Courtesy of Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Collection Gaignières.

with vaults almost thirty metres high, a thirty-metre-wide nave, and a fortymetre-wide choir.14 There are some more extreme cases of animosities between abbeys and cathedrals as in Limoges, where the monks of Saint-Martial, taken over by Cluny in 1063, and the canons of the cathedral of Saint-Etienne went as far as killing each other at the height of their conflict, most notably during the Hundred Years’ War when the bishop residing in his fortified city remained loyal to the French king, while the monks of Saint-Martial, protected by their own precinct wall, pledged their allegiance to the English king. The great Romanesque abbey 14  Lorans and Creissen, Marmoutier. The cathedral of Saint-Gatien is similar in its choir, inspired by Chartres and for the upper sections by the Sainte Chapelle in Paris, a very different design from the one chosen for the reconstruction in the thirteenth century of the choir of the collegiate of Saint-Martin de Tours (c. 1220–50), that is modelled on the choir of the cathedral of Bourges. On the cathedral of Tours, see Andrault-Schmitt, La cathédrale de Tours.

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Figure 10.12. Abbey of Saint-Martial, Limoges. Courtesy of Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS Lat. 11907, fol. 200.

of Saint-Martial is now gone (fig. 10.12),15 while the cathedral was rebuilt in the Gothic period,16 but one can wonder if the dominant element of these buildings, their main bell towers, did in fact reflect the fundamental opposition between the two institutions, with each church following a specific design. Saint-Martial displayed a steeple with gables, while Saint-Etienne’s tower is a stilted hexagonal steeple with four corner turrets.

Reims, Laon, Rouen, Auxerre It is necessary to look beyond the perception of constant conflict between the cathedral and the abbey. Relations between communities were not always defined by conflict, at least not continually. In Reims, for example, the cathe15  16 

Andrault-Schmitt, Saint-Martial de Limoges. Davis, ‘Le chœur de la cathédrale de Limoges’.

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Figure 10.13. Reims, ground plan of the cathedral following Archbishop Samson’s transformations in the mid-twelfth century. Source: Deneux, ‘Dix ans de fouilles dans la cathédrale de Reims’.

dral of Notre-Dame adopted some architectural elements from the neighbouring abbey of Saint-Remi, which decades earlier had borrowed some elements from the twelfth-century choir of the cathedral, rebuilt on the initiative of Archbishop Samson (fig. 10.13).17 This was also the case in Laon, where the prestigious abbey of Saint-Vincent was a royal foundation. In the sixth century, Queen Brunehaut had chosen a funerary chapel situated at the extremity of the western promontory of the Laon plateau as the location of a monastery dedicated to the Spanish martyr Vincent. In the tenth century, monks were brought there from Saint-Benoîtsur-Loire. The abbey then experienced a particularly prosperous period, becoming a necropolis for bishops and canons, and hence regarded as the second seat of the diocese. The building of the new abbey started under Abbot Hugues, only a few decades after work on the Gothic cathedral had begun at the end of the twelfth century (fig. 10.14).18 Depictions of the abbey executed before its destruction during the French Revolution indicate that the building had a lot in common with the cathedral. For example, the design of the very prominent transept that terminated in towers and with chapels projecting from its east side 17 

Villes, ‘La cathédrale de Samson XIIe siècle’, pp. 43–48. 18  Sandron, Picardie gothique, pp. 178–81.

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Figure 10.14. Abbey of Saint-Vincent, Laon. Source: Monasticon gallicanum, Fonds Gaillard, Centre André Chastel.

Figure 10.15. Abbey of Saint-Vincent, Laon, engraving based on Tavernier de Jonquières. Courtesy of Fonds Gaillard, Centre André Chastel.

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Figure 10.16. Rouen, view of the town from the south bank of the River Seine, with the cathedral to the left and Saint-Ouen Abbey in the background to the right. Courtesy of Fonds Gaillard, Centre André Chastel.

was borrowed from the design of the cathedral. The elevation of the choir, visible on the late eighteenth-century drawing by Tavernier (fig. 10.15), seems to be a reduced version of the cathedral choir, with large pointed arcades with single lines of voussoirs supported by columns, a triforium with three arcades per bay as well as simple upper windows which only fill up part of the bay’s width. The quadripartite vaulting is perhaps inspired by that of the cathedral’s transept. In Rouen, the facades of the cathedral transept possibly lent some inspiration to the design of the southern facade of Saint-Ouen, while the abbey’s crossing tower (fig. 10.16) was most definitely the main model for the cathedral’s so-called ‘Butter Tower’.19 The examination of such stimulating architectural exchanges if extended to all episcopal towns would certainly enrich our knowledge of late medi­eval religious architecture. The cases of Arras (Saint-Vaast Abbey), Cambrai (SaintGéry), Senlis (Saint-Rieu), and Reims (Saint-Nicaise) all represent further avenues of research. Such scrutiny allows us to appreciate the medi­eval urban landscape to a greater degree, punctuated by monuments that created a complex physical and spiritual composition in which they responded to each other, on the scale of the town or even of the region. 19 

ronne’.

Schlicht, La cathédrale de Rouen vers 1300, pp. 143–47; Verdier, ‘Le beurre et la cou-

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Figure 10.17. Saint-Germain Abbey, Auxerre. Photo by the author.

Auxerre provides a good example here, as the apses of the abbey of SaintGermain and of the cathedral of Saint-Etienne dominate the banks of the River Yonne.20 The abbey’s choir with its central chapel, repaired in the thirteenth century, offers a very refined version of the cathedral’s own central chapel, dating back a few decades, with the same triple arcade executed at the entrance. It is interesting to note that despite the refurbishment, the abbey preserved the outline of previous buildings, which can be traced clearly in the layout of the crypt.21 The statue of the abbey’s patron saint was placed at the top of the gable of the south transept (fig. 10.17), looking towards the town and the cathedral. A few decades later, the cathedral responded with the building of the north transept, dedicated to the same bishop,22 followed by the construction of the north tower on the western facade, which heralded the presence of the saint’s 20 

Sapin, Saint-Etienne d’Auxerre. Arnhold, ‘Le chœur de Saint-Germain d’Auxerre’; Titus, ‘Les relations architecturales entre l’abbaye Saint-Germain et la cathédrale Saint-Etienne d’Auxerre’. 22  Chatain, ‘Le portail du transept nord’. 21 

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relics in the cathedral to anybody approaching the town from the north-west, close to the great Benedictine abbey.23

Conclusion During the later Middle Ages, the great Benedictine churches formed a major component of the urban landscape in the episcopal cities that housed many ecclesiastical institutions. Monastic communities spent a huge amount of time and energy translating their ambitions into stone, especially as their environment was transformed through the reconstruction of adjacent cathedrals and from the thirteenth century onwards, through the burgeoning of mendicant friaries. The antiquity of Benedictine foundations has obscured the dynamism represented by the projects of reconstruction of their churches in the last centuries of the Middle Ages. The abbey of Saint-Denis ‘prototype’ of Gothic architecture is not an isolated case of the dominant place occupied by abbeys in the development of Gothic architecture. The abbeys of Saint-Nicaise of Reims for the thirteenth century, and of Saint-Ouen of Rouen for the fourteenth century, are clear examples of this, among others. To understand the architectural choices made by the religious communities, it is necessary to study ecclesiastical monuments as part of a global history rather than a history of individual buildings or religious groups. By examining the interaction between various building projects, it is possible to determine the architectural interdependence of such communities in their urban setting. The Benedictine abbeys that played a key role in urban development from the beginning of the Middle Ages, continued to have an impact on the urban space in the following centuries, thanks to a vast movement that saw their churches brought up to date. They fully participated in defining urban landscapes in the late Middle Ages.

23 

Sandron, ‘La façade’.

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Works Cited Manu­scripts and Archival Sources Paris, Archives nationales, N III Aisne 69 —— , N III Oise 68 Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS Lat. 11907

Primary Sources Gallia Christiana in provincias ecclesiasticas distributa, ix: De provincia Remensi (Paris: J.-B. Coignard, 1751) Le Vasseur, Jacques, Annales de l’église cathédrale de Noyon, jadis dite de Vermand avec une description et notice sommaire de l’une et l’autre ville, pour avant œuvre: Le tout parsemé des plus rares recherches, tant des vies des évêques qu’autres monuments du diocèse et autres lieux circonvoisins: Œuvre pour ses variétés, applications, rapports et conformetez avec d’autres villes, exemples, histoires et moralités, profitable aux pieux et dévôts et à tout curieux d’antiquité, 2 vols (Paris: Robert Sara, 1633)

Secondary Works Ancien, Bernard, ‘La chronique tourmentée de l’église et des bâtiments de l’abbaye SaintCrépin-le-Grand de Soissons’, Mémoires de la Fédération des Sociétés d’histoire et d’ar­ chéo­logie de l’Aisne, 28 (1983), 201–25 Andrault-Schmitt, Claude, ed., Saint-Martial de Limoges: Ambition politique et production culturelle (XIe–XIIIe siècles) (Limoges: Pulim, 2006) —— , La cathédrale de Tours (La Crèche: Gestes éditions, 2010) Arnhold, Hermann, ‘Le chœur de Saint-Germain d’Auxerre et l’architecture du gothique rayonnant’, in Archéo­logie et architecture d’un site monastique Ve–XXe siècles: 10 ans de recherches à l’abbaye Saint-Germain d’Auxerre, ed. by Christian Sapin (Auxerre: Centre d’Etudes médiévales, 2000), pp. 158–63 Bony, Jean, French Gothic Architecture of the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries (Berkeley: Uni­ver­sity of California Press, 1983) Chatain, Annaig, ‘Le portail du transept nord’, in Saint-Etienne d’Auxerre: La seconde vie d’une cathédrale, ed. by Christian Sapin (Paris: Picard, 2011), pp. 437–49 Davis, Michael, ‘Le chœur de la cathédrale de Limoges: tradition rayonnante et innovation dans la carrière de Jean Des Champs’, Bulletin archéo­logique du Comité des Travaux historiques et scientifiques, n.s., 22 (1986), 51–114 Deneux, Henri, ‘Dix ans de fouilles dans la cathédrale de Reims, 1919–1930’, Société des Amis du Vieux Reims (Reims: Matot-Braine, 1944) Guyotjeannin, Olivier, ‘Les reliques de Saint Eloi à Noyon: Procès et enquête du milieu du XIIIe siècle’, Revue Mabillon, 1 (1990), 57–110 —— , Atlas de l’histoire de France: La France médiévale IXe–XVe siècle (Paris: Editions Autrement, 2005)

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Kimpel, Dieter, and Robert Suckale, L’architecture gothique en France 1130–1270 (Paris: Flammarion, 1990) Lavedan, Pierre, Histoire de l’urbanisme, i: Antiquité, Moyen Age (Paris: Laurens, 1926) Lavedan, Pierre, and Jeanne Hugueney, L’urbanisme au Moyen Age, Bibliothèque de la Société française d’Archéo­logie, 5 (Paris: Arts et metiers ­graphiques, 1974) Lelong, Charles, L’abbaye de Marmoutier (Chambray-lès-Tours: CLD, 1989) Lorans, Élisabeth, and Thomas Creissen, eds, Marmoutier: Un grand monastère ligérien (Antiquité — XIXe siècle) (Orléans: DRAC Centre, 2014) Plagnieux, Philippe, ‘L’abbatiale de Saint-Germain des Prés et les débuts de l’architecture gothique’, Bulletin monumental (2000), 6–86 Prache, Anne, Saint-Remi de Reims: L’œuvre de Pierre de Celle et sa place dans l’architecture gothique, Bibliothèque de la Société Française d’Archéo­logie, 8 (Geneva: Droz, 1975) Sandron, Dany, Picardie gothique: Autour de Laon et Soissons: Les édifices religieux, Les monuments de la France gothique (Paris: Picard, 2001) —— , ‘Un défi architectural monastique: l’abbatiale gothique de Saint-Eloi de Noyon’, in Mélanges en l’honneur du professeur Peter Kurmann, ed. by Stephan Gasser, Christian Freigang, and Bruno Boerner (Berne: Peter Lang, 2006), pp. 101–12 —— , ‘La façade’, in Saint-Etienne d’Auxerre: La seconde vie d’une cathédrale, ed. by Chris­ tian Sapin (Paris: Picard, 2011), pp. 49–65 —— , ‘Le projet du XIIe siècle’, in Notre-Dame de Paris, ed.  by Cardinal André VingtTrois, La Grâce d’une cathédrale (Strasbourg: La Nuée bleue, 2012), pp. 67–93 —— , ‘Saint-Germain-des-Prés dans le paysage monumental parisien (milieu XIIe-milieu XIIIe s.)’, in Saint-Germain-des-Prés: Mille ans d’une abbaye à Paris, ed. by Roland Recht and Michel Zink, Actes du colloque international organisé par Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, la paroisse Saint-Germain-des-Prés et la mairie du VIe arrondissement de Paris (Paris: Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 2015), pp. 119–33 Sandron, Dany, and Andrew Tallon, Notre-Dame de Paris: Neuf siècles d’histoire (Paris: Parigramme, 2013) Sapin, Christian, ed., Saint-Etienne d’Auxerre: La seconde vie d’une cathédrale (Paris: Picard, 2011) Schlicht, Markus, La cathédrale de Rouen vers 1300: Portail des Libraires, portail de la Calende, chapelle de la Vierge, Mémoires de la Société des Antiquaires de Normandie, 41 (Rouen: Antiquaires de Normandie, 2005) Seymour, Charles, La cathédrale Notre-Dame de Noyon au XIIe siècle, Bibliothèque de la Société Française d’Archéo­logie (Geneva: Droz, 1975) Titus, Harry, ‘Les relations architecturales entre l’abbaye Saint-Germain et la cathédrale Saint-Etienne d’Auxerre’, in Archéo­logie et architecture d’un site monastique Ve–XXe siècles: 10 ans de recherches à l’abbaye Saint-Germain d’Auxerre, ed. by Christian Sapin, Auxerre, Centre d’Etudes médiévales (Paris: CTHS, 2000), pp. 164–68 Verdier, François, ‘Le beurre et la couronne’, In Situ, 1 (2001) Villes, Alain, ‘La cathédrale de Samson XIIe siècle’, in Reims, ed. by Thierry Jordan, La grâce d’une cathédrale, 2 (Strasbourg: Nuée Bleue, 2010), pp. 43–48

Transforming Women Religious? Church Reform and the Archaeology of Female Monasticism in Ireland Tracy Collins Recovering information about the role of women religious in the medi­eval period is notoriously difficult, but especially so in relation to the twelfth-century Irish church, given the overall paucity of the evidence.1

T

his essay explores female monasticism and twelfth-century church reform in Ireland through the archaeo­logical record. First, the tradition of female monasticism in medi­eval Ireland is outlined. The archaeo­ logical evidence of nunneries founded throughout the twelfth century is presented and some evidential issues are raised. Despite these issues, the entirety of the evidence shows that foundations of nunneries at this time were an intrinsic part of monastic patronage and church reform in the period, a time when female religious were both transformed and transforming.

Bracketing the Period The timeframe considered in this paper spans church renewal and reforms which began in Ireland in the late eleventh century, continued throughout the twelfth century, and which were inspired by pan-European reforms.2 A number of synods were held, including at Ráith Bressail in 1111, and Kells in 1152. 1 

Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, p. 73. For an overview see Brett, ‘Canterbury’s Perspective on Church Reform and Ireland 1070–1115’. 2 

Tracy Collins ([email protected]) is co-founder of Aegis Archaeo­logy Limited, an archaeo­ logical company based in Ireland, and has recently graduated with a PhD from the Department of Archaeo­logy, Uni­ver­sity College Cork, Ireland. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 277–301 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117267

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These were tasked with the process of the reorganization of existing church structures, and were concerned with issues such as delimiting parishes, regulating the dioceses and bishops, and normalizing religious houses following the introduction of Continental orders to Ireland. It is a popular view that the invading Anglo-Normans introduced these orders, after their arrival in 1169. While they were certainly patrons of such religious houses, the first foundations of Continental orders had already occurred several decades earlier. Therefore, the earlier twelfth-century female religious houses under consideration were founded by Irish patrons, and only in the latter years of the twelfth century did Anglo-Norman patronage of nunneries emerge.

What Came Before? Female Monasticism in the Early Medi­eval Period in Ireland In her study of female monasticism in early Ireland, Christina Harrington probably overestimated the numbers when she wrote of hundreds of thousands of female religious existing in Ireland from the seventh to the ninth centuries,3 saying that ‘hagio­graphers took it for granted that nunneries littered the Irish landscape’.4 It is known that there were religious women in Ireland from at least the time of St Patrick, and the zenith of early female monasticism is generally considered to be the seventh century.5 The annals list several abbesses, especially from the eighth to the eleventh centuries and especially in the churches of Kildare, Cloonburren, and Clonbroney.6 These early female religious communities, if indeed they could be considered such, covered a wide spectrum of foundations, from important independent centres, such as Kildare, Clonbroney, or Killevy, satellite communities such as at Clonmacnoise and Glendalough, to places such as smaller proprietary churches, which may have been dedicated to a female saint. It is likely that many female religious of this period followed their vocation at home in ‘household virginity’.7 These vowesses have been identified elsewhere, particularly in England, where it is estimated that they represented the majority of early female religious.8 From an 3 

Harrington, Women in a Celtic Church, p. 185. Bitel, ‘Women’s Monastic Enclosures’, p. 19. 5  Schulenburg, ‘Women’s Monastic Communities’, p. 291. 6  Bhreathnach, ‘Abbesses, Minor Dynasties and Kings in clericatu’. 7  Follett, Céli Dé, p. 28. 8  Foot, Veiled Women, pp. 26–30; Monastic Life, pp. 8–9. For an overview of female reli4 

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archaeo­logical perspective, female religious in the early medi­e val period are extremely difficult to identify. Extant evidence is scarce and excavations have yet to produce clear evidence relating to their lives.

Church Reform: Reorganization and Transformation Two key figures of the twelfth-century church reform in medi­eval Ireland were St Malachy of Armagh9 and Bishop Gille10 or Gillebertus of Limerick.11 There is no known female counterpart for these male reformers. The status of women had long been debated within the Continental Church,12 but no such writings survive from medi­eval Ireland. However, from what is known of Malachy and Gille and their writings, an outline of the status of women religious in twelfthcentury Ireland can be inferred. Gille wrote De statu ecclesiae an important tract on the constitution of the renewed church.13 This presented the church hierarchy as divided in three grades: first was the universal church, the bishops, archbishops, patriarchs, and prophets; second was the local church or diocese which included seven grades of clergy headed by a priest; and third was the laity, grouped into those who prayed, ploughed, or fought.14 Female religious were excluded from Gille’s second grade, and were accommodated with the laity, although it has been convincingly argued that he did intend to include female religious in their own right as moniales.15 It has been further postulated that Gille’s schema was a discussion document in advance of the synod held at gious in early medi­eval Europe see Gerchow and others, ‘Early Monasteries and Foundations 500–1200’. 9  Holland, ‘Malachy’. 10  Fleming, Gille of Limerick, pp. 38, 96, 98; Holland, ‘Gille of Limerick’. 11  There are several publications which consider this reform, which was punctuated by a number of synods. For example, Gwynn, The Irish Church; Harbison, ‘Church Reform’; Bracken and Ó Riain-Raedel, eds, Ireland and Europe; Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church; Bhreathnach, ‘Benedictine Influence in Ireland’. 12  Just one example is the correspondence between Heloise and Abelard. Baswell, ‘Heloise’; Macy, ‘Heloise, Abelard and the Ordination of Abbesses’. 13  Holland, ‘Gille of Limerick’, p. 199. 14  Fleming, Gille of Limerick, p. 90. The lower clerical grades of door-keepers, lectors, exorcists, and acolytes could be married, Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, p. 70. 15  A close reading of a manu­script of De statu ecclesiae in Cam­bridge, revealed that Gille wrote moniales between canonicales (clergy) and universales (laity). Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, p. 70.

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Ráith Bressail in 1111,16 and if so, it can be suggested that female religious were part of the reform debate. Considered the foremost church reformer of his time in Ireland much more is known about Malachy, mainly due to Bernard of Clairvaux who wrote his life and corresponded with him.17 Malachy is credited with the introduction of the Continental religious orders to Ireland, first the Cistercians and soon after the Augustinians, after his visit to Arrouaise and Clairvaux in France in 1139–40. These religious houses were a new concept in the ecclesiastical landscape of medi­eval Ireland, as they introduced new forms of architecture, segregated the sexes, and strictly enclosed women.18 ‘Fons Mellis’ (fount of honey), Mellifont, Co. Louth, was the first Cistercian house in Ireland, founded by Malachy in 1142.19 He was also responsible for the introduction of the Augustinian order, and specifically of the Arrouasian observance. Some have suggested that the introduction of this religious order was to provide the dioceses in Ireland with cathedral chapters, and assist in the formation of a sub-diocesan administration.20 Therefore, Malachy may have strategically introduced two religious orders to perform different functions, and in doing so, progressed his dual reform of the Church’s clerical and monastic structures.21 Furthermore, Malachy made specific provision for nuns, probably influenced by his visit to Arrouaise, then headed by its third abbot Gervase,22 whose first nunnery had been founded at Harrold in Bedfordshire, England in the 1130s.23 There is further historical evidence of Malachy’s provision for female religious in the twelfth-century Visio Tnugdali (Vision of Tnugdal), which described him as 16  Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, p. 55; Ó Carragáin, Churches in Early Medi­eval Ireland, p. 12. 17  Simms, ‘Frontiers in the Irish Church’, pp. 185–86. 18  Leask, Irish Churches and Monastic Buildings, pp. 1–17; Hall, Women and the Church, p. 96; O’Keeffe, Medi­eval Irish Buildings, pp. 101–13. But see Bhreathnach, ‘Benedictine Influence in Ireland’ which suggests that Continental monastic organization was not a totally alien concept in Ireland at this time. 19  Halpin and Newman, Ireland, p. 320. 20  Dunning, ‘The Arroasian Order in Medi­eval Ireland’, pp. 300, 304; Flanagan, ‘St Mary’s Abbey Louth’, p. 227; Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, p. 139; Holland, ‘Malachy’, p. 314. But see also Nicholls, ‘Medi­eval Irish Cathedral Chapters’. 21  Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, p. 137. 22  Watt, The Church in Medi­eval Ireland, p. 46; Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, p. 151. 23  Thompson, Women Religious, p. 151.

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founder of fifty-four congregations, which included sanctimoniales or nuns.24 Interestingly, it has been suggested that his patronage could be construed negatively: that Malachy sought to restrict previously autonomous female communities by controlling them with the Arrouasian observance of the Augustinian rule. This view is supported by a decree of the second Lateran Council in 1139, which denounced the common practice of groups of women self-styling themselves as sanctimoniales without affiliation to an order, a decree which Malachy as papal legate would have been well aware of.25 Therefore, although never explicitly described by either of the two most prominent Irish twelfth-century church male reformers, a picture of religious women and their treatment does emerge. Female religious were already present in Ireland before church reform, and the reformers did make some provision for them. Gille included nuns, albeit with some obvious difficulties, in his grand schema, and perhaps women religious were considered somewhat more pragmatically by Malachy, through the introduction of the Arrouasian observance, and the establishment of several nunneries under the Augustinian rule.

Expectations and Evidence From this very brief historical context of the transformation of the Church in Ireland in the twelfth century, it might be expected that the archaeo­logical evidence would reveal that nunneries of the twelfth century onward were claustrally arranged, but this is not the case. Previous scholars considered nunneries to have been somehow deviant, and therefore subordinate to the monastic standard, a standard which was largely set by the architecture, archaeo­logy, and history of male religious houses, and particularly the Cistercians.26 More recent archaeo­logical and historical research has shown that later medi­e val nunneries were not deviant, as nunneries were fundamentally different from their male counterparts,27 and as put succinctly by Janet Burton and Karen 24 

The Vision of Tnugdal, ed. by Picard and De Pontfarcy. McNamara, Sisters in Arms, pp. 294–97; Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, p. 150. 26  For example see Thompson, ‘Why English Nunneries Had No History’; for Ireland see Stalley, The Cistercian Monasteries of Ireland. 27  The work of Roberta Gilchrist has been a watershed in medi­e val archaeo­logy in this regard, see, Gilchrist, ‘The Archaeo­logy of Medi­e val Nunneries’; Gender and Material Culture; Contemplation and Action; ‘Medi­e val Archaeo­logy and Theory’; ‘Monastic and Church Archaeo­logy’. See also Burton, The Yorkshire Nunneries; Monastic and Religious Orders, pp. 85–108; ‘Looking for Medi­eval Nuns’; ‘Moniales and Ordo Cisterciensis in Medi­eval Eng25 

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Stöber in their recent work ‘Just as women differ from men (a fact which even medi­eval writers were all too keenly aware), so nunneries differ from monasteries (a fact of which modern writers are perhaps not always aware enough)’.28 Therefore, archaeo­logical evidence for nunneries of this period, and indeed the later medi­eval era more generally, shows a variety, and a fluid diversity in layout and architectural form. Nunneries employed a wide vocabulary of monastic and religious architecture, but were certainly not constrained by it, and not all nunneries used a claustral plan. The archaeo­logical evidence for later medi­e val nunneries in Ireland (c. 1100–1540) comprises some sixty-five sites. Of these, ten nunneries either reused early medi­eval foundations, or perhaps continued use of them, although this cannot currently be proven.29 Throughout the later medi­e val period, the Augustinian, including Augustinians of the Arrouasian observance, Cistercian, possibly Benedictine, and Franciscan orders were represented through their female foundations. Female religious houses of the Dominican order and double-house orders of the Premonstratensian, Gilbertines, and Fontevraud appear not to have been founded in Ireland.30 This essay concentrates on the nunneries founded throughout the course of the twelfth century (table 11.1).31 Their affiliation is overwhelmingly Augustinian of the Arrouasian observance, with just two nunneries, at Killone and St Peter’s Cell, being Augustinian,32 and the land and Wales’; Burton and Stöber, ‘Introduction’, pp. 1–13; Nichols, ‘Cistercian Nuns in Twelfth-and-Thirteenth-Century England’, p. 59. 28  Burton and Stöber, ‘Introduction’, p. 3. 29  Those sites are Addrigoole, Annaghdown, Carricknahorna, Kildare, Killaraght, Killevy, Molough, the Nuns’ Church, St Brigit’s, and Temple na Ferta. 30  Only one medi­e val Dominican female religious house was founded in England, at Dartford near London, Clapham, ‘The Priory of Dartford’; Lee, Nunneries, Learning and Spirituality; Clyne, ‘Medi­eval Irish Premonstratensian Monasteries’; ‘The Founders and Patrons of the Premonstratensian Houses in Ireland’; Golding, Gilbert of Sempringham; Kerr, Religious Life for Women. 31  At just over 50 per cent of the total number of later medi­e val nunneries in Ireland (n. 33, 50.8 per cent). A case could be made to include the likely nunnery of St Mary’s, Glendalough, Co. Wicklow which was established or re-built around 1100 and perhaps continued in use as a nunnery into the twelfth century. See Ó Carragáin, Churches in Early Medi­eval Ireland, pp. 248–53. However, the evidence for St Mary’s as a nunnery in the twelfth century is somewhat less than the others in the table, and has been omitted. 32  For background on the introduction of the Augustinian order and Augustinians of Arroasian observance see Dunning, ‘The Arroasian Order in Medi­e val Ireland’; Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, pp. 136–53; Hadcock, ‘The Origin of the Augustinian

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nunnery at Downpatrick Cistercian.33 Unfortunately, relatively few nunneries within this group have precise foundation dates.34 For example, Downpatrick was founded sometime in the twelfth century, Clonard was founded in 1144, Killevy in 1144 or 1148, and the Nuns’ Church and Temple Finghin both at Clonmacnoise, in 1144 or 1195. St Brigit’s at Odder and St Brigit’s Temple na Ferta in Armagh, were all probably re-founded in 1144, with a further ten foundations sometime after this date.35 Three nunneries are thought to have been founded after 1144 but before 1223. St Mary de Hogges was founded in 1146 and Aghade and Kilculliheen both in 1151. Taghmon was established before 1171 and St Peter’s Cell was probably founded in 1171, though a later date of 1189 is sometimes cited. The nunnery at Kildare was re-founded after 1171, and Killone in 1189. Drumalgagh was likely founded from Temple Finghin before 1195, and a further three nunneries sometime after this date.36 Timolin was founded at the century’s close in 1199. It is immediately noticeable that the date of 1144 is particularly important for female foundations in the twelfth century as this was the date assigned to nunneries established by Malachy, as listed in the Visio Tnugdali,37 with Clonard named as the mother house. The possessions of Clonard were subsequently confirmed by Pope Celestine III in 1195. Later in 1223, a papal bull Order in Meath’. O’Keeffe, An Anglo-Norman Monastery, pp. 15–23; ‘Augustinian Regular Canons in Twelfth-and-Thirteenth-Century Ireland’. For a wider context see Robinson, The Geo­g raphy of Augustinian Settlement, pp. 5–15; ‘The Augustinian Canons in England and Wales’; Burton and Stöber, The Regular Canons in the Medi­eval British Isles. 33  Some historical sources state that it was Benedictine, but Cistercian is preferred here. No Benedictine nunnery foundation is recorded in Ireland in the twelfth century, although possibly two are recorded later. It has been tentatively suggested that the nunnery at Glendalough (which may have been an early medi­eval establishment) was or became Benedictine, Ó Carragáin, Churches in Early Medi­eval Ireland, pp. 248–49. 34  Foundations dates for nunneries have been provided by Gwynn and Hadcock, Medi­eval Religious Houses Ireland, pp. 310–11; Hall, Women and the Church, pp. 207–10. It has been noted that these dates may not always be reliable, Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, p. 137. 35  They were Caltragh, Derrane, Duleek, Durrow, Kells, Kilbride, Lusk, Roscommon, Skreen, and Termonfeckin. 36  They were Calliaghstown, Grace Dieu, and Killeigh. 37  Vision of Tnugdal, trans. by Picard; Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, pp. 123 n. 32, 150. It has been pointed out that this date is likely arbitrary, and therefore may be incorrect, but in the absence of any firmer foundation dates for these nunneries, it has been used in this essay.

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Table 11.1. List of nunneries founded throughout the twelfth century in Ireland. No.

Name

County

Order*

Foundation Date†

Dedication

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33

Aghade Annaghdown Ardcarn Calliaghstown Caltragh Clonard Clonfert Derrane Downpatrick Drumalgagh Duleek Durrow Grace Dieu Kells Kilbride Kildare Kilculliheen Killeigh Killevy Killone Lusk Nuns’ Church Odder Roscommon Skreen St Brigid’s St Mary de Hogges St Peter’s Cell Taghmon Temple Finghin Temple na Ferta Termonfeckin Timolin

Carlow Galway Roscommon Meath Westmeath Meath Galway Roscommon Down Roscommon Meath Offaly Dublin Meath Meath Kildare Waterford Offaly Armagh Clare Dublin Offaly Meath Roscommon Meath Armagh Dublin Limerick Wexford Offaly Armagh Louth Kildare

AA AA AA AA AA AA AA AA Cistercian AA AA AA AA AA AA AA AA AA AA? Augustinian AA AA AA AA AA AA AA Augustinian AA AA AA AA AA

1151 +1144 or -1223 +1144 or -1223 +1195 +1144 1144 +1144 or -1223 +1144 12th century -1195 +1144 +1144 +1195 +1144 +1144 +1171 1151 +1195 1144 or 1148 1189 +1144 1144 or -1195 1144? +1144 +1144 1144? 1146 1171 or 1189 -1171 1144 or -1195 1144? +1144 1199

Unknown Mary Mary Unknown Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary Brigit Brigit? Mary; Kilkin Unknown Unknown John the Baptist Mary Mary Brigit Mary Mary Brigit Mary Peter Unknown Mary Unknown Mary Mary

* AA = Augustinian of Arroasian observance † + = sometime after; - = sometime before

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Map 11.1 Map of Ireland showing locations of thirty-three medi­eval nunneries listed in table 11.1. Map by the author.

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would transfer several of Clonard’s possessions to Kilcreevanty, which became the newly-established Arrouasian mother house in Connacht. 38 From the end of the twelfth century onwards the foundation of nunneries in Ireland declined. However, this decline should not be considered as indicating a fall-off in patronal interest or support for nunneries, as many of the nunneries founded in the twelfth century continued to fulfil their function in subsequent centuries, and as a practical result fewer new foundations were required. The twelfth century in Ireland saw a surge in both male and female religious houses, as did other regions such as England and France during their church reforms.39 This marked proliferation is considered as a period of monastic experimentation, particularly for female religious.40

Patronage It has been demonstrated that patrons of monastic and religious houses were certainly not averse to establishing nunneries in their portfolios of patronage.41 Of the nunneries listed, in nine cases the founder remains unknown. The nunneries that were founded over the course of the first three quarters of the twelfth century had native Irish patrons, and some towards the close of the century were established by the incoming Anglo-Norman patrons. In some cases, as at Killculliheen, benefaction shifted over time from Irish to Anglo-Irish benefactors. It is likely that ongoing benefaction, very rarely recorded for Irish female religious houses, was fluid over the course of the nunnery’s existence. Four nunneries are thought to have been founded directly by Malachy, or more likely he influenced their foundation, as he did elsewhere: the two at Armagh and the ones at Ardcarn, and Clonfert. In thirteen cases, kings, in the Irish context regional or local rulers, founded nunneries, probably having been influenced by persuasive churchmen. For example, several nunneries were founded by the king of Leinster, Diarmait Mac Murchada.42 His patronage of nunner38 

Brady, ‘The Nunnery at Clonard’. Burton, Monastic and Religious Orders, pp. 91–106; Hicks, Religious Life in Normandy, pp. 7–9; Venarde, Women’s Monasticism, pp. 6–16. 40  Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, p. 150. 41  For example, Stöber, Late Medi­eval Monasteries and their Patrons. 42  Byrne, ‘The Trembling Sod’, pp. 22–23, 26–28; Martin, ‘Diarmait Mac Murchada and the Coming of the Anglo-Normans’. Marie Therese Flanagan noted that Diarmait’s daughter, Aífe, wife of Strongbow, was patron of the Benedictine nunnery of Ickleton, Cam­bridgeshire, 39 

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ies has been interpreted by some as penance for his life’s misdeeds, of which there were several, not least, his violation of the abbess of Kildare in 1132.43 However, this is likely a simplistic view, and it is more probable that Diarmait was well aware of, and influenced by patronage patterns in Britain and on the Continent.44 Two nunneries, one at Lusk founded sometime after 1144, and the later Grace Dieu founded after 1195, were established by John Cumin the first Englishman to become archbishop of Dublin.45 Four were founded by prominent Anglo-Norman/Irish families, at Downpatrick, Killeigh, Timolin, and perhaps Odder.46 It remains uncertain if any women were involved in these initial foundations, though if similar patronage patterns were employed in Ireland as elsewhere, it is likely they did, but their agency is now masked in the historical record by their male counterparts: fathers, brothers, husbands, or sons.47 The Nuns’ Church at Clonmacnoise was reputedly rebuilt by Derbforgaill, wife of Tigernán Ua Ruairc, king of the midland kingdom of Bréifne, in the 1160s, which could be indicative of female benefaction, but it remains unclear if she had any part in the re-establishment or renewal of the female religious community there in the 1140s.48

England. It may be speculated that such patronage was a family tradition. Personal communication 15 November 2015, see also, Flanagan, Irish Society, Anglo-Norman Settlers and Angevin Kingship, pp. 124–26. 43  Byrne, ‘The Trembling Sod’, pp. 22–23. 44  For a comprehensive overview of the politics of Diarmait see Flanagan, Irish Society, Anglo-Norman Settlers and Angevin Kingship. 45  Martin, ‘Overlord Becomes Feudal Lord, 1172–85’, p. 120. It is possible that the community of nuns at Lusk moved to Grace Dieu, and Grace Dieu continued to hold land there until the Dissolution. Extents of Irish Monastic Possessions, ed. by White, pp. 73–77. 46  Those families were respectively, the Bagnalls, the Warens, the Lord of Norragh, and the Barnewalls. In the case of the Barnewalls, they were likely later benefactors, and in light of Odder’s association with Clonard, they may have originally shared a founder in the king of Mide. 47  For patronage patterns of nunneries in other regions see for example, Gilchrist, Gender and Material Culture, pp. 50–61; Hicks, Religious Life in Normandy, pp. 127–52; Johnson, Equal in Monastic Profession, pp. 18–49; Oliva, The Covent and the Community, pp. 161–83; Stöber, Late Medi­eval Monasteries and their Patrons, pp. 29, 53–61; Thompson, Women Religious, pp. 161–210. 48  Ní Ghrádaigh, ‘But What Exactly Did She Give?’. Ó Carragáin states that she did actually commission this nunnery to be built. Ó Carragáin, Churches in Early Medi­eval Ireland, p. 250.

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Extant Remains of Nunneries Founded in the Twelfth Century There is extant archaeo­logical evidence at some of the earliest nunneries founded in the period c. 1144. Much of this evidence, however, relates either to earlier or later periods of use. At Killevy, for example, a nunnery that was also an important ecclesiastical centre for female religious in the early medi­eval period, has the remains of two peculiarly conjoined churches, with the western church exhibiting the re-use of an early medi­eval trabeate doorway in its west wall (fig. 11.1).49 The twelfth-century Nuns’ Church at Clonmacnoise also marks the site of an earlier satellite female religious foundation to the northeast of the main ecclesiastical complex there.50 The nave-and-chancel church with the engaged round tower of Temple Finghin, also at Clonmacnoise, which abuts the north-western side of the ecclesiastical complex, is now thought to represent a second shorter-lived nunnery.51 The important nunnery at Clonard is no longer extant, but geophysical survey has revealed some tantalizing anomalies very suggestive of later medi­eval religious house structures, though these have yet to be investigated archaeo­logically.52 The two nunneries at Armagh, St Brigit’s and Temple na Ferta, now have no above-ground register but are known from carto­g raphic sources.53 Archaeo­logical excavations at Temple na Ferta revealed a long rectangular structure interpreted by the excavator as the range of a nunnery.54 Of other nunneries founded at this time only slight remains survive. The remains of the nunnery at Derrane comprise a single short 49 

Hamlin, The Archaeo­logy of Early Christianity, pp. 237–41. Ní Ghrádaigh, ‘But What Exactly Did She Give?’. FitzPatrick and O’Brien, The Medi­ eval Churches of County Offaly, pp. 40–49. Traces of earlier structures can be identified on the ground and in early drawings, see for example, Manning, ‘Some Early Masonry Churches’, pp. 82–83. 51  FitzPatrick and O’Brien, The Medi­eval Churches of County Offaly, pp. 49–56; Manning, ‘The Mystery of the Second Nunnery at Clonmacnoise’; Ní Ghrádaigh, ‘A Legal Perspective on the Saer’. 52  Gibson, ‘Using Geophysics at the Former Ecclesiastical Site of Clonard Co. Meath’; Gibson and George, ‘Site of the Former Monastic Settlement Clonard’. 53  McCullough and Crawford, Irish Historic Towns Atlas, Armagh, map 4, Armagh City, dated 1602, by Richard Bartlett. 54  McDowell, ‘Armagh 50–56 Scotch Street’. Previous archaeo­logical excavations at this site revealed a very early medi­e val cemetery, which was interpreted by the excavator as possibly relating to an early medi­eval community of female religious there, see Lynn, ‘Excavations in 46–48 Scotch Street Armagh 1979–80’; Ó Carragáin, Churches in Early Medi­eval Ireland, pp. 64, 221–24. 50 

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stretch of wall of indeterminate date, while the site of Caltragh now survives as a low register curving bank on the southern shore of Lough Lene. The remaining nunneries founded c. 1144, namely, Duleek, Durrow, Kells, Kilbride, Lusk, Odder, Roscommon, Skreen, and Termonfeckin, now have little if any twelfthcentury remains that can be positively identified as relating to nuns. Indeed, the important centre of Termonfeckin is now a greenfield site, and one which is ripe for archaeo­logical survey and investigation.55 Furthermore, there is currently no known location for the nunneries once recorded at Duleek, Durrow, Kells, Lusk, Roscommon, and Skreen, many of which also had communities of male religious, an issue that will be addressed presently. Annaghdown, Ardcarn, and Clonfert have imprecise foundation dates. All were founded sometime between 1144 and 1223. The church at Annaghdown that is considered to be the nunnery was later used by Premonstratensian canons so it may not be completely representative of the nuns’ complex.56 The only extant remains of the nunnery at Clonfert is a single, thirteenth-century crossinscribed tapering graveslab now located in Clonfert Cathedral.57 Ardcarn nunnery was only extant as a short stretch of featureless walling, but recent LiDAR imagery has revealed a discrete complex, possibly claustral in plan.58 The nunnery at Ardcarn, set within an extensive medi­eval archaeo­logical landscape, is a further candidate eminently suitable for further survey and investigation. St Mary de Hogges, founded in 1146, was one of the first religious houses located immediately outside the walls of Dublin. It now has no aboveground indication,59 though a section of its tile pavement was uncovered in the nineteenth century.60 Similarly, no above-ground trace survives of Kilculliheen nunnery, established in 1151 on the left bank of the River Suir opposite the 55  On the importance of Termonfeckin, Flanagan, ‘St Mary’s Abbey, Louth’, pp. 228–30; Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, pp. 153–54, 202. 56  The Premonstratensian Order did not found nunneries in Ireland. See Clyne, ‘The Founders and Patrons of the Premonstratensian Houses in Ireland’. 57  I am grateful to Dr Christy Cunniffe who identified the nunnery grave slab from others in the cathedral for me. 58  Davis, ‘Getting to the Point(s)’, p. 7. Later medi­eval inquisitions described Ardcarn as a church and separate stone houses for the nuns, but the LiDAR imagery shows archaeo­logical remains that are very suggestive of a claustral plan. 59  The modern church of St Andrew (Dublin City Tourist Office) marks its location. The nunnery was demolished at its Dissolution to provide building stone for the repair of Dublin Castle. Clarke, Irish Historic Towns Atlas, Dublin, p. 19. 60  Eames and Fanning, Irish Medi­eval Tiles, pp. 62, 122.

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Figure 11.1. Killevy nunnery, Co. Armagh, west church with a reused trabeate doorway. Photo by the author.

medi­eval town of Waterford.61 This became a very important religious house in the region, patronized by the Butler lords, and even competing with the corporation of Waterford in trade and commerce.62 Despite Kildare being the most important and famous early medi­eval female community, reputedly founded by St Brigit, the precise location of its later medi­eval nunnery re-founded in 1171, remains unknown, though it is generally thought to have been located within the cathedral precincts. An extant rectangular structure, popularly known as the ‘firehouse’, to the north of the cathedral, embodies the tradition of the nuns maintaining a perpetual fire.63 Two further nunneries were established in 1171, Taghmon and St Peter’s Cell, neither of which have substantial extant remains.64 61 

Burke, ‘The Nunnery of Kilculliheen’. Also, there is now no above-ground trace of the nunnery at Aghade founded in 1151, which subsequently became a cell of St Mary de Hogges. 62  Murphy, Connon, and Galloway, ‘Waterford and its Hinterland’, pp. 232, 237–38. 63  Gerald of Wales described this structure in the late twelfth century and suggested it was a survival of a pre-Christian sanctuary. The fire was tended by nineteen nuns, Giraldus Cambrensis’ ‘The Topo­graphy of Ireland’, trans. by Forester, rev. by Wright, pp. 53–54. 64  Low register earthen banks may mark the nunnery at Taghmon. There is a twelfth-century grotesque Romanesque head thought to be from St Peter’s Cell in Limerick City Museum. See CRSBI, the Corpus for Romanesque Sculpture in Britain and Ireland.

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Figure 11.2. Killone nunnery, Co. Clare, viewed from south-west, Killone Lough in foreground. Photo by the author.

Killone, founded in 1189, is the best-preserved twelfth-century nunnery in Ireland, and is the only example to definitely follow a claustral layout. It is a fine example not just of a nunnery, but of medi­eval religious house architecture in general, and has several interesting features, not least its church’s undercroft (fig. 11.2).65 Killone was founded by Domhnall Mór Ó Briain at the same time as he founded the male Augustinian house of Clare Abbey, on lands owned by the male house.66 In the 1190s, five further nunneries were established. In most of these cases, however, they represent a move from an earlier twelfth-century foundation. For example, Drumalgagh was founded for the female community from Temple Finghin in Clonmacnoise,67 the nuns at Lusk moved to Grace 65 

Collins, The Other Monasticism, Killone, Co. Clare. McInerney, ‘A 1555 Papal bulla for Clare Abbey’, p. 133. 67  Manning, ‘The Mystery of the Second Nunnery at Clonmacnoise’, pp. 25–26. 66 

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Dieu,68 and it is thought that nuns from Durrow and Duleek moved to Killeigh and Calliaghstown, respectively.69 The remains of a small church with attached accommodation are extant at Drumalgagh. Grace Dieu was demolished for the construction of the nearby Turvey House, and the nunnery’s site is now marked by two isolated late grave slabs and two stretches of wall. Timolin was founded in 1199 by Robert, son of Richard, lord of Norragh, though all that now remains of his foundation is an effigy, and a single floor tile.70 The last nunnery of the group, Downpatrick, has no precise foundation date within the century, and a debate continues over its precise location. Some have suggested that its fabric was incorporated into the later cathedral, or, and probably more likely, it was located in the vicinity of the Nuns’ Gate to the north of the town.71

Conclusion Nunneries, or female houses, were established in the twelfth century, as they were for their male counterparts, as part of the reform and re-energizing of the Church in Ireland. While some nunneries were founded on new sites, a significant number made use of existing early ecclesiastical sites, which may have been associated with male or female religious. Whether this re-use represents a continuation of use, or a re-use after a period of abandonment, cannot be proven without the benefit of excavation. It is likely that both scenarios occurred, and surely the potent symbolism of re-occupying early ecclesiastical sites at the time of reform, such as Clonard and Kildare, would not have escaped the reformers, and the nuns themselves. The extant archaeo­logy of twelfth-century nunneries is not abundant, but yet illustrates diversity. The re-use of earlier sites may have contributed to this variety, where a church and freestanding structures formed the nunnery complex, such as at Nuns’ Church in Clonmacnoise or Killevy. In some cases, a nunnery church may have had accommodation attached, as at Drumalgagh. Current archaeo­logical evidence indicates that nunnery cloisters were rarely built in the twelfth century, Killone being the sole example of this arrangement, and possibly Ardcarn, although this nunnery remains to be investigated archaeo­logically. It is likely that some other nunneries now no longer 68 

Baker, Antiquities of Old Fingal, pp. 60–62. Gwynn and Hadcock, Medi­eval Religious Houses Ireland, pp. 314, 317, 321. 70  Eames and Fanning, Irish Medi­eval Tiles, p. 67; Collins, ‘Timolin’, p. 63. 71  Buchanan and Wilson, Irish Historic Towns Atlas, No. 8 Downpatrick, p. 10; Hamlin and Brannon, ‘Northern Ireland’, pp. 259–60. 69 

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extant did use a claustral plan, among them being Kilculliheen, St Mary de Hogges, St Peter’s Cell, or Timolin, but a cloister was not a ubiquitous design for nunneries in the twelfth century, or in later centuries for that matter. On the basis of current evidence, it can be argued that for female monasticism in an Irish context a cloister was not regarded as an essential element for a nunnery. Rather, it was the performance of various rituals and the celebration of the liturgy in the nuns’ daily lives that transformed the physical components of nunneries into spiritual spaces for the glory of God. Furthermore, as previously mentioned, several locations of nunneries are better known as male religious houses, and it is now increasingly likely that these locations were ‘monastic experiments’ where canons and nuns lived in proximity, at least for a time.72 These have been termed co-located houses, where Augustinian canons and nuns (canonesses) are thought to have lived in close proximity, though separately, and may have shared some facilities, such as the church.73 Currently, little can be said as to how these sites may have functioned, as extant archaeo­logy is sparse, and future archaeo­logical investigation would undoubtedly be rewarding. These foundations may have originated from the early medi­eval tradition of monks and nuns being present at the same site, and developed, or were renewed as co-located sites soon after the twelfth-century reforms. Co-located houses were also pragmatic. Nunneries required at least one priest for the celebration of many of the sacraments and liturgy, and having a male religious community in close proximity was an obvious practical solution to this requirement. However, in most co-located cases, they did not survive beyond the first quarter of the thirteenth century, with either the nuns or canons being relocated. The nuns of Annaghdown moved to Inishmaine, and the Termonfeckin houses eventually became a female-only establishment. Furthermore, the twelfth century did not mark the end of foundations of female religious, and nunneries continued to be founded until the sixteenth century, albeit at a slower rate. 72  Those sites dating to the twelfth century are Clonard, Duleek, Durrow, Kells, Roscommon, Termonfeckin, Annaghdown, Ardcarn, Clonfert, Killeigh. The two nunneries at Clonmacnoise could also be considered in this context. 73  Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, p. 150. The term ‘co-located’ is particularly useful in an archaeo­logical context as it clearly differentiates these houses from the double houses of the earlier medi­eval period in Ireland, and the medi­eval period in Britain. These co-located communities are not currently thought to have been like the classic double houses of the Gilbertine order or the order of Fontevraud. For an overview of those orders see, respectively, Golding, Gilbert of Sempringham; Kerr, Religious Life for Women.

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To date, there has been relatively little scholarly attention paid to the possible various roles of female religious and their nunneries in the process of religious and monastic reform that began in Ireland in the twelfth century, encapsulated by this essay’s opening quotation.74 Elsewhere however, researchers are teasing out the place of women religious in the process of reform in their regions, and indeed formulating new models of reform. For example, the ‘monastic revolution’ of the tenth century in England extended to female congregations, most obviously being manifested in the Regularis concordia, agreed at a council at Winchester in the 970s, at which abbesses were represented, which stressed the queen’s protection and guardianship of communities of nuns.75 Perhaps influenced by this important document, nunneries and in particular those associated with royal houses, were considered by scholars as the norm of female religious practice there.76 However, Foot has revealed, through a forensic analysis of the historical sources, many other diverse female religious communities, for example, widows and vowesses, existed at the time of reform.77 She has suggested that these, often sole religious women or very small groups, were in fact the norm in medi­eval England, and that royal cloistered nunneries should be considered somewhat atypical in the processes of female religious reforms there.78 This more diverse situation is not unique to England — it can be identified in Merovingian Francia and tenth- and eleventh-century Italy,79 for example, and it is a model that also fits neatly with the current evidence in Ireland. On the Continent, monastic reforms are currently being investigated along medi­e val regional lines, primarily from an historical perspective. For example, Vanderputten has studied tenth- to twelfth-century monastic reforms in Flanders and in particular Lotharingia, through the historical evidence of the instigators of the reform process and documents of several religious houses themselves.80 He concluded that ‘reform’ should be considered a process rather than a single event, which had an individual character in each community. He 74 

Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church; Harrington, Women in a Celtic Church, pp. 267–89; Hall, Women and the Church, pp. 66–70. 75  Foot, Veiled Women, pp. 87–104. 76  For example, see Yorke, Nunneries and the Anglo-Saxon Royal Houses; Foot, Veiled Women, pp. 200–03. 77  Foot, Veiled Women, pp. 145–98. 78  Foot, Veiled Women, pp. 206–08. 79  See Foot, Veiled Women, pp. 204–06. 80  Vanderputten, Monastic Reform as Process.

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noted that reform functioned as a literary theme as well as a historical reality, in which decline, renewal, and reconciliation were integral ideas. His case study approach has shown that the process of reform was certainly not uniform, and has convincingly argued that for the region of Lotharingia at least, uniformity across religious institutions would have been impossible for a variety of reasons; but this was not a goal of the reformers in the first instance.81 His further case study research on forty female religious communities in Lotharingia supports this conclusion, where he has identified a ‘multiformity’ of experience in reform processes in nunneries, where women religious were actively engaged with their benefactors, local communities, and in the creation of their own identities through time.82 Currently, the relative dearth of historical evidence in Ireland renders it impossible to demonstrate female religious agency in the reform process, as can be demonstrated elsewhere. However, the sheer number of nunneries founded throughout the twelfth century, and their extant archaeo­logical remains, is a physical testament to their involvement in the practical processes of religious reform in Ireland. Indeed, the diversity of layout identified in the archaeo­ logical record in Ireland may be manifesting the diversity of approaches to reform historically documented elsewhere, such as in England and Flanders. The title of this essay posed a question: were female religious transformed and transforming during the church reforms of the twelfth century? This reform was the catalyst for a burst of expansion and experiment for medi­eval monasticism in Ireland. Female religious were an intrinsic, although largely historically silent, part of this expansion, as they were transformed by the introduction of Continental orders, most especially by the Augustinian rule and Arrouasian observance. Nuns and nunneries can be glimpsed in the historical record, and now in the archaeo­logical evidence, when one looks carefully. Nunneries are an excellent example of the ‘universal ideals’ of church reform and its more pragmatic ‘regional responses’.83 Moreover, female religious were transforming in this period, as they joined with patrons and benefactors in creating new and novel religious communities — most of which would last the test of time, becoming part of the fabric of medi­eval society until the Dissolution.

81 

Vanderputten, Monastic Reform as Process, pp. 186–89. Vanderputten, Dark Age Nunneries. 83  Terms used by Flanagan, Transformation of the Irish Church, p. 243. 82 

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Works Cited Primary Sources CRSBI, Corpus of Romanesque Sculpture in Britain and Ireland [accessed 1 March 2016] Extents of Irish Monastic Possessions, 1540–1541: From Manu­scripts Held in the Public Record Office, London, ed. by Newport B.  White (Dublin: Irish Manu­scripts Com­ mission, 1943) Giraldus Cambrensis, Giraldus Cambrensis’ ‘The Topo­graphy of Ireland’, trans. by Thomas Forester, rev. and ed. by Thomas Wright, Medi­eval Latin Series (Ontario: In Paren­ thesis, 2000) The Vision of Tnugdal, trans. by Jean-Michel Picard, introduction by Yolande de Pontfarcy (Dublin: Four Courts, 1989)

Secondary Works Baker, Christine, Antiquities of Old Fingal (Dublin: Wordwell, 2010) Baswell, Christopher, ‘Heloise’, in The Cam­bridge Companion to Medi­eval Women’s Writing, ed. by Carolyn Dinshaw and David Wallace (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ ver­sity Press, 2003), pp. 161–71 Bhreathnach, Edel, ‘Abbesses, Minor Dynasties and Kings in clericatu: Perspectives of Ireland 700–850’, in Mercia: An Anglo-Saxon Kingdom in Europe, ed.  by Michelle Brown and Carol Farr (London: Leicester Uni­ver­sity Press, 2001), pp. 113–25 —— , ‘Benedictine Influence in Ireland in the Late Eleventh and Early Twelfth Century: A Reflection’, Journal of Medi­eval Monastic Studies, 1 (2012), 46–105 Bitel, Lisa, ‘Women’s Monastic Enclosures in Early Ireland: A Study of Female Spirituality and Male Monastic Mentalities’, Journal of Medi­eval History, 12 (1986), 15–36 Bracken, Damian, and Dagmar Ó Riain-Raedel, eds, Ireland and Europe in the Twelfth Cen­tury: Reform and Renewal (Dublin: Four Courts, 2006) Brady John, ‘The Nunnery at Clonard’, Ríocht Na Midhe, 2 (1960), 4–7 Brett, Martin, ‘Canterbury’s Perspective on Church Reform and Ireland, 1070–1115’, in Ireland and Europe in the Twelfth Century: Reform and Renewal, ed. by Damian Bracken and Dagmar Ó Riain-Raedel (Dublin: Four Courts, 2006), pp. 13–35 Buchanan, Ronald H., and Anthony Wilson, Irish Historic Towns Atlas, No. 8: Downpatrick (Dublin: Royal Irish Academy, 1997) Burke, William P., ‘The Nunnery of Kilculliheen’, Journal of the Waterford and Southeast Ireland Archaeo­logical Society, 8 (1902), 9–17 Burton, Janet, The Yorkshire Nunneries in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries, Borthwick Papers, 56 (York: Borthwick Institute Uni­ver­sity of York, 1979) —— , Monastic and Religious Orders in Britain, 1000–1300 (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 1994)

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—— , ‘Looking for Medi­eval Nuns’, in Monasteries and Society in the British Isles in the Later Middle Ages, ed.  by Janet Burton and Karen Stöber (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2008), pp. 113–23 —— , ‘Moniales and Ordo Cisterciensis in Medi­eval England and Wales’, in Female vita religiosa between Late Antiquity and the High Middle Ages: Structures, Developments and Spatial Contexts, ed.  by Gert Melville and Anne Müller (Berlin: Lit, 2011), pp. 375–89 Burton, Janet, and Karen Stöber, eds, The Regular Canons in the Medi­eval British Isles, Medi­eval Church Studies, 19 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011) —— , Women in the Medi­eval Monastic World (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015) —— , ‘Introduction’, in Women in the Medi­eval Monastic World, ed. by Janet Burton and Karen Stöber (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015), pp. 1–13 Byrne, Francis, ‘The Trembling Sod: Ireland in 1169’, in A New History of Ireland, ii: Medi­ eval Ireland 1169–1534, ed. by Art Cosgrove (Oxford: Clarendon, 1993), pp. 1–42 Clapham, A. W., ‘The Priory of Dartford and the Manor House of Henry VIII’, Archaeo­ logical Journal, 83 (1926), 67–85 Clarke, Howard, Irish Historic Towns Atlas, No. 11: Dublin, pt i: To 1610 (Dublin: Royal Irish Academy, 2002) Clyne, Miriam, ‘Medi­eval Irish Premonstratensian Monasteries and their European Con­ text’, 2 vols (unpublished doctoral thesis, National Uni­ver­sity of Ireland Galway, 2010) —— , ‘The Founders and Patrons of the Premonstratensian Houses in Ireland’, in The Regular Canons in the Medi­eval British Isles, ed.  by Janet Burton and Karen Stöber (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), pp. 145–72 Collins, Tracy, The Other Monasticism, Killone Co. Clare, Heritage Guide, 38 (Dublin: Wordwell, 2007) —— , ‘Timolin: A Case Study of a Nunnery Estate in Later Medi­eval Ireland’, Anuario de estudios medi­evales, 44 (2014), 51–80 Davis, Stephen, ‘Getting to the Point(s)’, Seanda, 7 (2012), 6–9 Dunning, Patrick J., ‘The Arroasian Order in Medi­eval Ireland’, Irish Historical Studies, 4 (1945), 297–315 Eames, Elizabeth, and Thomas Fanning, Irish Medi­eval Tiles (Dublin: Royal Irish Academy, 1988) FitzPatrick, Elizabeth, and Caimin O’Brien, The Medi­eval Churches of County Offaly (Dublin: Government of Ireland, 1998) Flanagan, Maire Therese, ‘St Mary’s Abbey Louth and the Introduction of the Arroasian Observance into Ireland’, Clogher Record, 10 (1980), 223–34 —— , Irish Society, Anglo-Norman Settlers and Angevin Kingship (Oxford: Clarendon, 1989) —— , The Transformation of the Irish Church in the Twelfth Century (Woodbridge: Boy­ dell, 2010) Fleming, John, Gille of Limerick, c. 1070–1145: Architect of a Medi­eval Church (Dublin: Four Courts, 2001) Follett, Westley, Céli Dé in Ireland: Monastic Writing and Identity in the Early Middle Ages, Studies in Celtic History, 23 (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2006)

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Foot, Sarah, Veiled Women: The Disappearance of Nuns from Anglo-Saxon England, 2 vols (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000) —— , Monastic Life in Anglo-Saxon England, c. 600–900 (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ ver­sity Press, 2006) Gerchow, Jan, and others, ‘Early Monasteries and Foundations (500–1200): An Intro­ duction’, in Crown and Veil: Female Monasticism from the Fifth to the Fifteenth Centuries, ed. by Jeffrey Hamburger and Susan Marti (New York: Columbia Uni­ver­ sity Press, 2008), pp. 13–40 Gibson, Paul J., ‘Seeing beneath the Ground Using Geophysics at the Former Ecclesiastical Site of Clonard, Co. Meath’, Ríocht na Midhe, 20 (2009), 69–79 Gibson, Paul  J., and Dorothy  M. George, ‘Geophysical Investigation of the Site of the Former Monastic Settlement, Clonard, County Meath, Ireland’, Archaeo­logical Pros­ pection, 13 (2006), 45–56 Gilchrist, Roberta, ‘The Archaeo­logy of Medi­eval English Nunneries: A Research Design’, in The Archaeo­logy of Rural Monasteries, ed. by Roberta Gilchrist and Harold Mytum, British Archaeo­logical Reports British Series, 203 (Oxford: British Archaeo­logical Reports, 1989), pp. 251–57 —— , Gender and Material Culture: The Archaeo­logy of Religious Women (London: Routledge, 1994) —— , Contemplation and Action: The Other Monasticism (London: Leicester Uni­ver­sity Press, 1995) —— , Gender and Archaeo­logy: Contesting the Past (London: Routledge, 1999) —— , ‘Medi­eval Archaeo­logy and Theory: A Disciplinary Leap of Faith’, in Reflections: 50 Years of Medi­eval Archaeo­logy, 1957–2007, ed.  by Roberta Gilchrist and Alan Reynolds (Leeds: Maney, 2009), pp. 385–408 ——  , ‘Monastic and Church Archaeo­logy’, Annual Review of Anthropo­logy, 43 (2014), 235–50 Golding, Brian, Gilbert of Sempringham and the Gilbertine Order, c. 1130–1300 (Oxford: Oxford Uni­ver­sity Press, 1995) Gwynn, Aubrey, The Irish Church in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Dublin: Four Courts, 1992) Gwynn, Aubrey, and Neville Hadcock, Medi­eval Religious Houses Ireland (Dublin: Irish Academic Press, 1970) Hadcock, Neville, ‘The Origin of the Augustinian Order in Meath’, Ríocht na Midhe, 3 (1964), 124–31 Hall, Dianne, Women and the Church in Medi­eval Ireland, c. 1140–1540 (Dublin: Four Courts, 2003) Halpin, Andy, and Conor Newman, Ireland: An Oxford Archaeo­logical Guide (Oxford: Oxford Uni­ver­sity Press, 2006) Hamlin, Ann, The Archaeo­logy of Early Christianity in the North of Ireland, British Archaeo­logical British Series, 460 (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2008) Hamlin, Ann, and Nick Brannon, ‘Northern Ireland: The Afterlife of Monastic Buildings’, in The Archaeo­logy of Reformation, 1480–1580, ed. by David Gaimster and Roberta Gilchrist (Leeds: Maney, 2003), pp. 252–66

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Harbison, Peter, ‘Church Reform and Irish Monastic Culture in the Twelfth Century’, Journal of the Galway Archaeo­logical and Historical Society, 52 (2000), 1–12 Harrington, Christina, Women in a Celtic Church: Ireland, 450–1150 (Oxford: Oxford Uni­ver­sity Press, 2002) Hicks, Leonie, Religious Life in Normandy, 1050–1300: Space, Gender and Social Pressure (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2007) Holland, Martin, ‘Gille (Gilbert) of Limerick’, in Medi­eval Ireland: An Encyclopedia, ed. by Sean Duffy (New York: Routledge, 2005), pp. 198–99 —— , ‘Malachy (Máel-Máedóic)’, in Medi­eval Ireland: An Encyclopedia, ed. by Sean Duffy (New York: Routledge, 2005), pp. 312–14 Johnson, Penelope, Equal in Monastic Profession: Religious Women in Medi­eval France (Chicago: Uni­ver­sity of Chicago Press, 1991) Kerr, Berenice, Religious Life for Women, c. 1100–c. 1350: Fontevraud in England (Oxford: Clarendon, 1999) Leask, Harold G., Irish Churches and Monastic Buildings, iii: The Medi­eval Gothic, the Last Phases (Dundalk: Dundalgan, 1960) Lee, Paul, Nunneries, Learning and Spirituality in Late Medi­eval English Society: The Dominican Priory of Dartford (York: York Medi­eval Press, 2001) Lynn, Chris, ‘Excavations in 46–48 Scotch Street Armagh 1979–80’, Ulster Journal of Archaeo­logy, 51 (1988), 69–74 Macy, Gary, ‘Heloise, Abelard and the Ordination of Abbesses’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 57 (2006), 16–32 Manning, Conleth, ‘Some Early Masonry Churches and the Round Tower at Clonmacnoise’, in Clonmacnoise Studies, ii: Seminar Papers 1998, ed. by Heather King (Dublin: Dúchas, 2003), pp. 63–95 —— , ‘Finghin MacCarthaigh, King of Desmond, and the Mystery of the Second Nunnery at Clonmacnoise’, in Regions and Rulers in Ireland, 1100–1650, ed. by David Edwards (Dublin: Four Courts, 2004), pp. 20–26 Martin, Francis, ‘Diarmait Mac Murchada and the Coming of the Anglo-Normans’, in A New History of Ireland, ii: Medi­eval Ireland, 1169–1534, ed.  by Art Cosgrove (Oxford: Clarendon, 1993), pp. 43–66 —— , ‘Overlord Becomes Feudal Lord, 1172–85’, in A New History of Ireland, ii: Medi­eval Ireland, 1169–1534, ed. by Art Cosgrove (Oxford: Clarendon, 1993), pp. 98–126 McCullough, Catherine, and William H. Crawford, Irish Historic Towns Atlas, No. 18: Armagh (Dublin: Royal Irish Academy, 2007) McDowell, J. A., ‘Armagh, 50–56 Scotch Street, Early Christian Cemetery and Medi­eval/ Post-Medi­eval Settlement’ [accessed 1 March 2016] McInerney, Luke, ‘A 1555 Papal Bulla for Clare Abbey’, Journal of the Royal Society for Antiquaries of Ireland, 141 (2011), 128–48 McNamara, Jo Ann Kay, Sisters in Arms: Catholic Nuns through Two Millennia (Harvard: Harvard Uni­ver­sity Press, 1996) Murphy, Margaret, Anne Connon, and Jim Galloway, ‘Waterford and its Hinterland: An Historical Overview’, in Cois tSiuire: Nine Thousand Years of Human Activity in the

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Lower Suir Valley, ed. by James Eogan and Elizabeth Shee Twohig (Dublin: National Roads Authority, 2011), pp. 217–44 Ní Ghrádaigh, Jenifer, ‘“But What Exactly Did She Give?”: Derbforgaill and the Nuns’ Church at Clonmacnoise’, in Clonmacnoise Studies, ii: Seminar Papers 1998, ed.  by Heather King (Dublin: Dúchas, 2003), pp. 175–207 —— , ‘A Legal Perspective on the Saer and Workshop Practice in Pre-Norman Ireland’, in Making and Meaning in Insular Art, ed. by Rachel Moss (Dublin: Four Courts, 2007), pp. 110–25 Nicholls, Kenneth, ‘Medi­eval Irish Cathedral Chapters’, Archivium Hibernicum, 31 (1973), 102–11 Nichols, John, ‘Cistercian Nuns in Twelfth- and-Thirteenth-Century England’, in Hidden Springs: Cistercian Monastic Women, Medi­eval Religious Women, iii.1: Cistercian Monastic Women, ed. by John Nichols and Lillian Thomas Shank (Kalamazoo: Cister­ cian Publications, 1995), pp. 49–61 Ó Carragáin, Tomás, Churches in Early Medi­eval Ireland: Architecture, Ritual, and Memory (New Haven: Yale Uni­ver­sity Press, 2010) O’Keeffe, Tadhg, An Anglo-Norman Monastery: Bridgetown Priory and the Architecture of the Augustinian Canons Regular in Ireland (Cork: Cork County Council, 1999) —— , ‘Augustinian Regular Canons in Twelfth- and-Thirteenth-Century Ireland: History, Architecture and Identity’, in The Regular Canons in the Medi­eval British Isles, ed. by Janet Burton and Karen Stöber, Medi­eval Church Studies, 19 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), pp. 469–84 —— , Medi­eval Irish Buildings, 1100–1600 (Dublin: Four Courts, 2015) Oliva, Marilyn, The Convent and Community in Late Medi­eval England: Female Mona­s­ teries in the Diocese of Norwich, 1350–1540 (Woodbridge: Boydell, 1998) Robinson, David, The Geo­ graphy of Augustinian Settlement, British Archaeo­ logical Reports British Series, 80, 2 vols (Oxford: British Archaeo­logical Reports, 1980) —— , ‘The Augustinian Canons in England and Wales: Architecture, Archaeo­logy and Liturgy 1100–1540’, Monastic Research Bulletin, 18 (2012), 2–29 Schulenburg, Jane T., ‘Women’s Monastic Communities 500–1100: Patterns of Expansion and Decline’, Signs, 14 (1989), 261–92 Simms, Katharine, ‘Frontiers in the Irish Church — Regional and Cultural’, in Colony and Frontier in Medi­eval Ireland: Essays Presented to J. F. Lydon, ed. by Terry Barry, Robin Frame, and Katharine Simms (London: Hambledon, 1995), pp. 177–200 Stalley, Roger, The Cistercian Monasteries of Ireland: An Account of the History, Art and Architecture of the White Monks in Ireland from 1142 to 1540 (New Haven: Yale Uni­ ver­sity Press, 1987) Stöber, Karen, Late Medi­ eval Monasteries and their Patrons: England and Wales, c. 1300–1540 (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2007) Thompson, Sally, ‘Why English Nunneries Had No History: A Study of the Problems of the English Nunneries Founded after the Conquest’, in Medi­eval Religious Women, i: Distant Echoes, ed. by John Nichols and Lillian Thomas Shank (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1984), pp. 131–49

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Monasticism in a Border Landscape: ­ val Finland Religious Orders in Medie Visa Immonen

P

olitical circumstances in the border region shaped the establishment of the religious orders in Finland, the eastern part of the kingdom of Sweden. The late arrival of Christianity in Finland in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries did not promote the older monastic orders, instead favouring the Dominican and Franciscan orders, and the late medi­eval Bridgettine order. Only five friaries and one monastery were founded during the Middle Ages. Two factors were significant for the positioning of friaries in the border landscape: urbanization and the sea. It seems that the monastic institutions amalgamated their pan-European design principles and behaviours with solutions better suited to the peripheral environment. They formed an adaptable tool for managing the border landscape.

The Northern Frontier Area of Occidental Monasticism The medi­eval diocese of Turku (Lat. Aboa, Sw. Åbo), part of the kingdom of Sweden, covered more or less the area of present-day Finland.1 The northern, sparsely populated territory bordered with Novgorod and later Russia, forming a border area between two realms as well as between western and eastern Christianity. In the diocese, only six monastic sites were founded during the 1  In this paper, Finland and the diocese of Turku are used as interchangeable geo­graphical terms. However, the diocese also included the province of Karelia, and the town of Vyborg, which are now part of Russia.

Dr Visa Immonen ([email protected]) is a Professor in Archaeo­logy at the Uni­ver­sity of Turku. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 303–328 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117268

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Middle Ages, five of them belonging to the mendicant orders, and one to the Bridgettine order. Despite their low number, these religious communities constituted a major cultural force in the borderlands of Finland. Frontier and border are intertwined concepts. Historian Fredrick Turner’s seminal definition of frontier casts it as a zone of interaction between different cultures and social organizations where particular types of settlement and cultural patterns emerge.2 Frontiers frequently appear around borders. Establishing a border is an act of authority, and borders are manifestations of power and territoriality.3 Therefore the study of border landscapes focuses on how the creation, existence, and maintenance of borders is bound to economic, social, and practical landscapes. Such a study necessarily assumes a division between cores and peripheries or border areas. From the core, a central authority establishes a presence in the border area which is intended to maintain security in both spheres.4 Although subscribing to the interactive understanding of frontiers, archaeo­ logist Magdalena Naum emphasizes that they are peripheries in the geo­ graphical and material sense. Her take on frontiers is part of the recent archaeo­ logical interest in frontiers and borders that stresses their role as fluid zones in which cultural tensions and dynamics were physically inscribed in the landscape. In comparison to the core areas, border landscapes can become a space for altered and alternative material culture, architecture, and social as well as cultural practice.5 In medi­e val archaeo­logy, borders have been discussed mostly in terms of the Christianization and Europeanization of peripheries,6 while in the study of monasticism, religious communities are approached as a vital factor in the colonization process. They were intentionally established in newly Christianized and conquered territories. 7 Analysing monastic sites in Iceland, Steinunn Kristjánsdóttir argues that in the northern periphery, their material culture was consistent with the pan-European model of Catholic monasticism, but at the same time it manifested a cultural hybridity. In Iceland, monasteries were 2 

Turner, The Frontier; Jamroziak, Survival and Success, p. 7. Jamroziak, Survival and Success, p. 11. 4  Minghi, ‘Introduction’; Newman, ‘On Borders and Power’; Paasi, ‘Boundaries as Social Practice and Discourse’; Rowley, The Welsh Border; Swallow, ‘Palimpsest of Border Power’. 5  Naum, ‘Re-Emerging Frontiers’, p. 102; see also Ylimaunu and others, ‘Borderlands as Spaces’. 6  Staecker, The European Frontier. 7  Gilchrist, ‘Monastic and Church Archaeo­logy’, p. 242. 3 

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significant points of Europeanization but interpreted with regionally specific accents.8 Monasticism in medi­e val Finland bears a distinct resemblance to the Icelandic case, but in the eastern part of the kingdom of Sweden, the frontier was more than a periphery; it was also marked with political and religious borders. The eastern border with Novgorod and Russia was politically pivotal, but the region as such did not form the core of politics in the kingdom of Sweden. For the purposes of the present paper the diocese of Turku as a border landscape refers to its location in the political, economic, and social margins of Europe, expressed in its low population density, and the modest productivity of an agrarian economy. The landscape is characterized by the management of the environment in terms of livelihood and communication, focusing attention on the placement of a monastic site in relation to other features in the landscape, such as subsistence areas, towns, roads, and waterways. This paper will first describe the arrival of the orders, and the foundation of five mendicant friaries9 and one Bridgettine monastery in the diocese. It will focus next on how their installation was affected by the particular social and environmental circumstances of the region.10 An outline of Christianization in Finland will be provided, as this period saw a close connection between the establishment of religious orders and the emerging diocese. The history and position of each monastic site will be discussed in its geo­graphical context, concentrating on economy and communication. The interpretation of the six sites is highly restricted and conditioned by the history of archaeo­logical research in Finland, which has been patchy and previously conducted without proper documentation. Nevertheless, the analysis will show how important the sea and sailing routes as well as urbanization were for monastic sites. Moreover, although the orders followed the principles and patterns of behaviour typical to them, they also had to alter their established panEuropean practices, architecture, and the use of the landscape in order to adapt

8 

Kristjánsdóttir, ‘No Society Is an Island’; Kristjánsdóttir, ‘The Tip of the Iceberg’. In this paper, mendicant houses are termed ‘friaries’. In present Finnish scholarship they are usually called ‘convents’, while in the older research tradition they were frequently addressed as ‘monasteries’. 10  During the Middle Ages, there were no Eastern Orthodox monasteries in the diocese of Turku, but Eastern Orthodoxy was popular in the easternmost parts of Finland (e.g. Laakso, Papinniemi in Uukuniemi). The nearest large Eastern Orthodox monastery was Valaam monastery on Valaam Island in Lake Ladoga (e.g. Parppei, ‘The Oldest One in Russia’). 9 

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to their northern circumstances. Hybridization is, however, perhaps too strong a concept to describe these adjustments.

The Christianization of Finland Finland was among the last European countries to adopt Christianity. Although the new religion had some presence in south-west Finland long before the actual conversion period, Christianity became significant in the country only between the eleventh and thirteenth centuries. It took hold initially in the permanently settled regions of western Finland, and was followed by the formation of an ecclesiastical organization. Christianization was linked to the establishment of the first interregional power in Finland as the region became a province in the kingdom of Sweden. Prior to this, there were no large administrative or political structures in the area. The process was more or less completed in western Finland by 1300 when the cathedral of Turku was consecrated.11 Although both written and archaeo­logical sources are sparse, the evidence suggests that part of this tumultuous change involved the arrival of the monastic orders. In Finland, Christianity was probably promoted initially by individual missionaries. In the kingdom of Sweden, the Cluniac movement was active in the tenth and eleventh centuries, and if there was organized missionary activity in Finland, it was probably associated with the Cluniacs.12 Finland became fully involved in church politics in the mid-twelfth century, when the First Crusade was launched in the region of south-west Finland. The crusade was allegedly undertaken by Bishop Henrik of Uppsala — later the patron saint of the diocese of Turku and Finland — together with the king of Sweden, Eric Jervardsson. It is uncertain if any monastic order was involved in the crusade or in the later ones, but if so, it was likely to have been the Cistercians who founded several monasteries in Sweden during the twelfth century.13 However, no Cistercian monastery was ever established in Finland, with the minor exception of the Cistercian abbey of Padise in present-day Estonia which only had an impact for a brief period. It had large estates on the northern shore of the Gulf of Finland in southern Finland between 1335 and 1408.

11 

Hiekkanen, ‘An Outline of the Early Stages’; Line, ‘Sweden’s Conquest’; Purhonen, Kristi­nuskon saapumisesta. 12  Krötzl, ‘Kirkko’, pp. 15–16. 13  Krötzl, ‘Kirkko’, pp. 16–17.

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The abbey also held fishing rights on the Vantaanjoki River in southern Finland between 1351 and 1429.14 The absence of the Cistercian order meant that the monastic composition of the diocese of Turku differed significantly from more southern and western parts of Europe. Monasteries of the pre-thirteenth-century orders, such as the Benedictines or Carthusians, were never founded in Finland. In contrast, all the orders that gained a foothold in the diocese were formed in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The reasons for this situation were partly due to the social instability that pertained in Finland throughout the twelfth century, and that the older monastic orders had lost their expansionary mission by the time Christianity was established there in the thirteenth century. Moreover, the economy of the diocese was rather undeveloped, and the size of the population remained small, being no more than 50,000 in the thirteenth century, and reaching 300,000 by the end of the Middle Ages.15 At that time, there were only about 150 parishes in the geo­graphically large diocese.16 The five mendicant friaries and one Bridgettine monastery were founded in the diocese between the thirteenth and fifteenth centuries. This constitutes a very small number of sites when compared with the other Nordic countries, let alone Central Europe. In Scandinavia, there were altogether about two hundred religious houses established during the Middle Ages.17 In other words, Finland consisted of 26 per cent of the land area of all Nordic countries, but the number of religious houses founded there amounted to a mere 3 per cent.

The Dominican Friary of St Olaf in Turku The first religious community to establish themselves in the diocese was the Dominican order. Their arrival was connected with the establishment of the episcopal see in south-western Finland, and thus the Dominican friary of St Olaf in Turku claimed a special status among the monastic institutions in Finland. The Dominicans retained their close association with the highest administrative levels of the Church, as many bishops of Finland were Dominicans, and the official liturgy of the diocese of Turku was Dominican.18 14 

Salminen, ‘Fishing with Monks’. Haggrén, ‘Keskiajan arkeo­logia’, pp. 422–23. 16  Hiekkanen, Suomen keskiajan kivikirkot. 17  Hiekkanen, ‘De finska klostren’, p. 123. 18  Bonniwell, A History of the Dominican Liturgy, pp. 205–06; Lehmijoki-Gardner, ‘Mendi­ 15 

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Map 12.1. The Dominican friary of St Olaf in Turku. Dates on the map indicate respective excavations and letters A–R indicate sections of the foundation (A is the church and E the chapter house). The garth is located in the south-west corner of the complex and remaining sections are discussed in the text. Plan by P. Savolainen.

Turku is the earliest and most important of the six medi­e val towns in Finland. It was founded around 1300,19 but the Dominicans seem to have established their first community in Turku before urbanization. According to the Dominican annals of Sigtuna, the order came to Finland in 1249.20 This enigmatic passage is the only written reference to the arrival of the Dominicans since the archive of the house at Sigtuna was destroyed, apart from some fragkant­tisääntökunnat’, p. 240; Line, ‘Sweden’s Conquest’, p. 90; Malin, Der Heiligenkalender, p. 184; see also Piebenga, ‘The Dominicans’. 19  Hiekkanen, ‘Die Gründung’, pp. 157–69; Seppänen, Rakentaminen, p. 941. 20  DF no. 98.

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ments. Only one book of its library, a liturgical compilation of 1407, survives in the collections of Uppsala Uni­ver­sity.21 Dominican friars usually settled in or close to urban centres, where they could rely on the stability provided by ecclesiastical and secular patrons and gain access to a large section of the laity. It is plausible, therefore, that the first location of the Dominican friary was on the Cape of Koroinen, located 1.6 km from the later town centre and Turku’s cathedral on the Aurajoki River. Koroinen is a fortified site that contains the foundations of a thirteenth-century cathedral and two other stone buildings, 22 and has been regarded as a proto-urban phase of Turku. The written sources appear to support the idea that the first Dominican friary was established in Koroinen and was moved to its later position in Turku, perhaps when the actual town was founded.23 The friary that has been identified archaeo­logically lay just outside the southern edge of the medi­e val town, situated about 100 m from the presentday bank of the Aurajoki River (map 12.1). Indeed it has been suggested that this site, rather than Koroinen, was the location of the first friary.24 The architectural remains are under the modern townscape, and the exact location of the friary was unknown by the late eighteenth century. After the Great Fire, which destroyed Turku in 1827, and the subsequent rebuilding period, brick walls and graves were occasionally discovered in this area. Archaeo­logist Hjalmar Appelgren-Kivalo directed the first archaeo­logical fieldwork at the site in 1901. After that the area was haphazardly documented as new buildings were erected or sewers laid when the last major fieldwork campaign took place in 1960s.25 Due to the complex and poorly documented nature of these excavations, the exact date of the ruins is unclear, although it is likely they were built in the fourteenth or fifteenth century. Similarly, the friary’s plan remains subject to debate and the most recent reconstruction was published in 2014.26

21 

Malin, Der Heiligenkalender, pp. 93–95; Maliniemi, ‘Grundandet’, p. 86. Gardberg, Veritas, p. 22; Hiekkanen, Suomen keskiajan kivikirkot, p. 185; Hiekkanen, ‘Turun Pyhän Olavin konventti’, p. 89; Ratilainen and others, ‘The Bishop’s Brick House’; Salminen, ‘Dominikaanit’, p. 38. 23  Harjula and others, Koroinen. 24  Salminen, ‘Dominikaanit’, p. 38. 25  Immonen and others, ‘The Dominican Convent’, pp. 547–49. 26  Immonen and others, ‘The Dominican Convent’; Immonen and others, ‘Turun Pyhän Olavin dominikaanikonventti’. 22 

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The archaeo­logical evidence suggests that two major streets connected the friary to the town centre.27 The first street followed the orientation of the river and led from the market square to the friary. It was called Klosternedergatan, ‘the lower street of the monastery’. The other street, Klosterövergatan ‘the upper street of the monastery’, followed the river, and linked one of the main roads leading to the town to the friary.28 In addition to the town, the Aurajoki River and the town’s commercial harbour played a major role in the friary’s activities. It was not uncommon for mendicant orders to choose a site near the harbour area.29 The building complex was in a dell formed by the steep slopes of two hills, while on the opposite side the site was bordered by the river. The height difference between the lowest and highest floor level in the friary is several metres.30 The choice of quite an awkward location for the friary might be explained by the possibility that this fitted into a deliberate plan on which the town of Turku was founded, as Markus Hiekkanen has suggested. This plan involved the positioning of the cathedral and the friary at opposite ends of the town.31 In Turku, the urban area was defined by clay and marshy soils and steep hills which in combination with the town plan dictated the placing of the friary in its current location. This difficult topo­graphy affected the layout of the friary to the extent that it did not conform to the typical Dominican design. It has an almost triangular garth and surrounding cloister walks ( J, K, and R), and the overall design appears elongated. The unusual shape is probably an adjustment required by the steep slope.32 The cloister displays another uncommon architectural feature, as it appears not to have had a portico or large window openings to the cloister. The inner wall was mainly solid like the outer wall, which is indicated by the equal width of the foundations. This feature might have been due to the cold northern winters.33 The church was positioned in the north-east corner of the complex (A), and the vaulted chapter house (E) stood between the cloister and the church. On the basis of frequent discoveries of graves and human bones in the area, the church27 

Seppänen, Rakentaminen, p. 907. Kostet, ‘Erikoisia turkulaisia nimiä’. 29  Schofield and Vince, Medi­eval Towns, pp. 201–03. 30  Rinne, ‘P. Olavin luostari’, pp. 107–08. 31  Hiekkanen, ‘Die Gründung’; Seppänen, Rakentaminen, pp. 940–44. 32  Blomqvist, ‘Dominikanernas byggnader’, col. 168; Gardberg, Veritas, p. 53. 33  Hiekkanen, ‘Turun Pyhän Olavin konventti’, p. 91; Rinne, ‘P. Olavin luostari’, pp. 150–52. 28 

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yard may have been at least 25–30 m in width and continued as far as 60 m to the north-east. It therefore seems to have been partly located on the north side of the church.34 Placing the cemetery between the town and the church might appear an odd solution, but it can be compared with the Dominican friary of St Catherine in Tallinn, Estonia.35 The reason for the location might have been practical as the steep hillside did not allow for the continuous digging of graves elsewhere. The arrangement also conforms to the tendency of the mendicant orders to favour open spaces around churches, which gave them better contact with their surroundings and enabled them to preach in the open air.36 The ancillary domestic buildings probably lay in the narrow area between the friary and the river. In fact, in the 1950s a square frame building (c. 1.2 m × 2.4 m) consisting of seven wooden logs on top of each other was discovered by the riverside. One side of the log construction had a small opening from which a wooden chute carried water towards the friary.37 Liisa Seppänen points out that a similar construction was used in connection with a watermill in Lübeck to supply fresh water for a brewery.38 Apart from the mill, no evidence of an elaborate water management system has been discovered on the site. There are, however, remains of four undated wells and a system of covered ditches that channelled rainwater coming from the hills towards the river.39 The economic activities undertaken by the Dominicans included grain milling. They owned a farm a few kilometres upstream on the Aurajoki River in Halinen, and the farm held a share in the rapids at Halistenkoski through the use of a large mill.40 The friary also had land and urban plots in and around Turku. In 1545, the estates that had belonged to the friary were rented out by the Crown to the townspeople. The property included eleven storehouses by the river and fifteen meadows.41 At this time, but perhaps even earlier, a forge functioned on the friary’s land.42 34 

Brusila, ‘Pyhän Olavin dominikaaniluostarin raunioista’, p. 103; Immonen, ‘Buried in the Archives’. 35  Tool-Marran, Tallinna Dominiiklaste klooster. 36  Bruzelius, ‘The Dead Come to Town’; Bruzelius, Preaching, Building, and Burying. 37  Valonen, ‘Turun viemärikaivauslöydöistä’, p. 107. 38  Seppänen, Rakentaminen, pp. 858–59. 39  Appelgren, ‘Det underjordiska Åbo’, p. 57; Rinne, ‘P. Olavin luostari’, pp. 124, 131; Rinne, ‘Pyhän Olavin luostari’, p. 92. 40  Gardberg, Veritas, p. 64; Leinberg, De finska klostrens historia, p. 54. 41  Leinberg, De finska klostrens historia, p. 54; Salminen, ‘Dominikaanit’, p. 42. 42  Immonen and others, ‘Turun Pyhän Olavin dominikaanikonventti’, p. 7; Pirinen, Kirk-

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The Dominican friary in Turku conformed to many typical patterns of mendicant communities in Western Europe. After the town of Turku was founded, the friary functioned in close proximity to the urban area as well as to the town harbour and the Aurajoki River. In addition, the friars seem to have engaged in such activities as milling, and perhaps brewing, like many other mendicants. However, unlike many of its counterparts, the friary appears to have had a role in the overall founding and layout of the town. The Dominicans did not simply establish their house in the existing urban fabric. Moreover, its plan had unusual features which probably resulted from its space in the urban layout on a hilly terrain, and its architectural features were adapted to the cold climate.

The Mendicant Friaries of Vyborg and Rauma After the founding of the Dominican friary of Turku in the mid-thirteenth century, it took almost a century and a half before another friary was established in the diocese. In 1392, Pope Bonifacius IX granted permission to the Dominicans to found a friary dedicated to the Virgin Mary and the Angels in Vyborg (Fi. Viipuri, Sw. Viborg).43 Vyborg became the second most important town in the diocese, situated in the south-eastern corner of Karelia. It was not a town with its own charter in the late fourteenth century, but a settlement located close to the castle of Vyborg. The castle had been founded in 1293 as part of the Third Swedish Crusade to Finland.44 Vyborg received its charter in 1403.45 It was a maritime settlement on a peninsula disconnected from the surrounding rural landscape and was located in the border area since the Middle Ages.46 The town was exceptional in that two mendicant orders settled there by the early fifteenth century. The second religious community in Vyborg was Franciscan, mentioned for the first time in written sources in 1403.47 The founding of two friaries in Vyborg by the beginning of the fifteenth century was related to the Crown’s need to advance the status of Vyborg on the eastern border. The Pan-Nordic Union of Kalmar was established in 1397, and the koreduktio, p. 36; Rinne, ‘P. Olavin luostari’, pp. 158–59. 43  DF no. 1005; Leinberg, De finska klostrens historia, pp. 71–78; Ruuth, Viipurin kaupungin historia, pp. 79–80, 151–52. 44  DF no. 214. 45  DF no. 1173. 46  Korpela, Viipurin läänin historia, pp. 87, 246. 47  DF no. 1162; Korpela, Viipurin läänin historia, p. 248.

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Map 12.2. Reconstruction of the plan of Vyborg town during the sixteenth century. Source: Neuvonen, Viipurin historiallinen keskusta, p. 26.

new central power in Denmark began to develop the north-eastern regions of that union around 1400. At the same time, there was a movement in the diocese of Turku to develop a local administration, and perhaps to create an episcopal see at Vyborg. The establishment of the town of Vyborg, and its two mendicant friaries was part of this strategy.48 There was thus a definite political plan that connected the town and the two friaries, as also happened in Turku, and in fact they seem to have been intentional accelerators for pan-European urbanization. Very little archaeo­logical fieldwork has been undertaken at the two sites in Vyborg, and their architectural plans remain unknown except for the churches, which survive as ruins today (map 12.2). The only excavations at the church of the Dominican friary and its environs were conducted in the 1940s. The remains of several buildings were discovered, but it is not clear which of the structures uncovered were actually part of the friary. The results of the two excavations conducted at the Franciscan friary in 1936 and 1986 were even more inconclusive.49 Nonetheless, it can be assumed that the buildings stand on 48  49 

Hiekkanen, ‘De finska klostren’, pp. 148–49. Hiekkanen, ‘De finska klostren’, pp. 131–35; Meurman, ‘Muinaismuistojen valvonta’, p. 56.

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their original locations,50 and it is apparent that their positioning in the urban layout follows similar European patterns. The Dominican friary of Vyborg was located in the urban area near the town’s south gate on a main street which led to the cathedral. As in Turku, the friary was close to the town harbour.51 The Franciscan friary, in contrast, lay initially at the edge or outside the urban area, but when the town was fortified in 1475, the wall enclosed the house inside the town. In comparison to the Dominican friary, the Franciscan friary was located on the opposite side of the urban area, near the north gate by one of the main streets. From the 1440s, a written reference survives that alludes to plans to construct buildings in stone,52 and apparently the complex was considered large enough to accommodate the provincial synod of the province of Dacia, consisting of the Nordic countries, in 1486.53 The placing of the two religious communities in Vyborg appears to have been well planned. Both friaries were located away from the busy market area, but still close to the main access routes of the town. Very little is known about the economy and the property owned by the mendicants. In 1448, however, the Dominicans received a donation that included a farm with a brick kiln.54 Without further information, the relationship between these mendicant foundations and the surrounding landscape remains obscure.

The Franciscan Friary of Rauma In contrast to Vyborg, the town of Rauma is situated on the western coast of Finland. No written account survives as to when Rauma was founded, but it was probably established at the same time as Vyborg, c. 1400, and like Vyborg, the foundation was part of a larger plan to promote the eastern regions of the Union of Kalmar. Rauma was a regional centre even before the town was granted a charter, controlling sea routes and the fishing and seal hunting areas of the Gulf of Bothnia.55 50 

Hiekkanen, ‘De finska klostren’, p. 130; Korpela, Viipurin läänin historia, p. 249. Korpela, Viipurin läänin historia, p. 247; Salminen, ‘Dominikaanit’, p. 39. 52  DF no. 2628; Ruuth, Viipurin kaupungin historia, p. 38. 53  DF no. 4116. 54  DF no. 2744; Ruuth, Viipurin kaupungin historia, pp. 36, 145. 55  Hiekkanen, Keskiajan kaupungit, ii; Hockman, ‘Fransiskaanikonventti’; Niukkanen, Sep­pänen, and Suhonen, ‘Keskiajan kaupunkirakentaminen Suomessa’. 51 

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The exploitation of marine resources constituted a major livelihood on the western and southern coasts of Finland. Seasonally it brought a lot of people together in places such as Rauma, and where there were people, there was also a need for pastoral care. Accordingly, the earliest Swedish royal order for harbours from 1450 states that all fishermen were required to attend Mass whenever possible. It also granted the religious free access to fishing sites, which gave the mendicant orders good opportunities to reach out to people in areas of intensive fishing and seal hunting.56 Although the Dominicans founded their two friaries in Finnish coastal towns, it was the Franciscans who utilized sea routes comprehensively all over the Baltic Sea region. On the basis of written sources, Franciscan friars from Stockholm and Gotland made preaching journeys to the Finnish coastal areas already at the end of the thirteenth century. Eventually, to provide their pastoral work with more stability and continuity, the friars established seasonal stopping stations in the archipelago, where they built simple chapels and living quarters.57 It is possible that one of the Franciscan coastal stations was situated in the Rauma region, and that it was upgraded into a proper friary after the town was founded. There is, however, no actual evidence for such a development. The second Franciscan friary in Finland was founded in Rauma around the 1440s. The exact date is not known, but the earliest reference to the friary appears in a will dating to 1449.58 It is likely that the Franciscans received permission to build a friary in Rauma in order to support the Crown’s attempts to enhance its grip over the region. Competition for good fishing places was fierce, and the presence of Franciscans might have calmed down aggressive rivalry.59 The friary at Rauma has barely survived, since only its stone church, built in the 1510s now remains,60 and little archaeo­logical fieldwork has been conducted on the site of the friary (map 12.3). Minor excavations have been conducted since the 1890s, but the results remained very meagre and difficult to interpret.61 However, in 2017, major archaeo­logical excavations took place at 56 

Klemming, Skrå-ordningar, pp. 289–309. Gallén, ‘Klosterbröderna och havet’; Hockman, ‘Fransiskaanikonventti’; Salminen, ‘Suomen “pienet” kaupungit’. 58  DF nos 2817–18. 59  Hiekkanen, ‘De finska klostren’, p. 149; Hockman, ‘Fransiskaanikonventti’. 60  Hiekkanen, Suomen keskiajan kivikirkot, pp. 246–47, 249. 61  Hiekkanen, ‘De finska klostren’, pp. 136–37; Lähteenoja, Rauman kaupungin historia; Sarvas, ‘Rauman kirkkojen rahalöydöt’. 57 

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Map 12.3. The centre of Rauma with the friary church in the north and the remains of the former parish church in the south. Source: Hiekkanen, Keskiajan kaupungit, iv, map 6.

the friary’s grounds, and the finds included rosary beads, coins, fragments of stained glass, book clasps, and two thousand kilograms of animal bones. The results await publication. Nevertheless, it is clear that the church was situated by the Raumanjoki River, a location that separates the friary from the town centre on the other side of the river. The town’s parish church acted as a counterpoint to the friary, as it was built on the opposite side of the settlement, placing the urban area between the two churches. The urban plan in Rauma seems very similar to the manner in which the urban layout and mendicant houses were organized in Turku and Vyborg.

The Franciscan Friary of Kökar Another early Franciscan preaching station was situated on the tiny island of Hamnö, next to the main island of Kökar, part of the southern Finnish archipelago (map 12.4). Kökar is mentioned among the stopping stations in the thirteenthcentury travel account known as ‘King Valdemar II of Denmark’s Itinerary’.62 62 

Gallén, Det ‘Danska itinerariet’.

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It recounts a journey from Utlängan, an island in the Karlskrona archipelago in Blekinge, in southern Sweden, to Tallinn in Estonia.63 The inclusion of Kökar in the itinerary shows that the island was advantageously positioned along the sea routes. It was also in the vicinity of rich fishing areas. The friary appears in written sources for the first time in 1472, and it was founded probably somewhat earlier, between 1450 and 1460.64 Fishing played a significant role in the medi­eval economy of the archipelago. The most important fishing area Map 12.4. The plan of the Franciscan near Kökar was Mörskär. It enticed friary on Kökar Island. Source: Gustavsson fishermen from the entire archipelago, ‘Undersökningar’, p. 179, fig. 10. and even from Sweden, and the sixteenth-century taxation records show that a total of six thousand boat crews visited the area between 1543 and 1569. It is estimated that each crew comprised of three to four persons.65 The profitability of fishing is also reflected in the increase in population on Kökar. By the end of the thirteenth century, there were about thirteen farms on the island, but their number had increased to sixty, or three to four hundred permanent inhabitants, by the early sixteenth century. Even the Franciscans of Kökar were involved in fishing. They owned a share in the fishing corporations of Baltic herring, and operated a number of fishing locations in the archipelago.66 The friary on Kökar attracted the attention of scholars from an early stage. Fieldwork at the friary site of Hamnö was undertaken by archivist Karl Bomansson between 1868 and 1869. These were the very first archaeo­logical excavations conducted at an historical site in Finland and work on the site con-

63 

Westerdahl, ‘The Maritime Itinerary’. DF no. 3502; Gallén, ‘Klosterbröderna och havet’. 65  Gallén, ‘Klosterbröderna och havet’. 66  Gustavsson, Hamnö, p. 4; Gustavsson, ‘Undersökningar’, pp. 173–74. 64 

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tinued in several phases, the most recent in the 1980s and 1990s under the direction of archaeo­logist Kenneth Gustavsson.67 The friary is very prominent on the tiny Hamnö Island which protects the natural harbour of Kökar Island. The present church was erected in 1784, but its walls incorporate parts of the medi­e val building.68 The friary’s garden or cloister lay along the northern side of the church. At the other end, the cloister was adjoined by a large rectangular structure measuring 18 m × 8 m. The building was divided into two rooms of which the smaller one was furnished with a cooking oven. Under the western section of the building, remains of an older construction with a hypocaust heating system were discovered. This feature, along with the abundant remains of animal and fish bones discovered, suggest that the building functioned as the refectory and associated kitchen. The oldest finds from the building date to the fifteenth century.69 Further remains of built structures were found outside the friary complex. The most interesting group of buildings were situated about 100 m south of the friary. These consisted of the foundations of two large houses with stone-built cellars. Like the refectory, they also had tiled roofs, but on the basis of coins discovered there and certain architectural features, the two houses were in use by the fourteenth century, before the friary was founded. Furthermore, the church still contains fragments of a chalice made in the late fourteenth century. Consequently, it appears that the Franciscans had formed a station or outpost at Kökar long before the actual friary was built in the mid-fifteenth century.70 The archaeo­logical material discovered at the friary is very rich and includes coins, table knives, styli, pieces of jewellery, and ceramics. Fishing is reflected in the assemblage as well which comprised a trident, cod hooks, and needles for mending fishing nets. The finds also reveal that bone artefacts were produced at the site, since they included semi-finished and finished products: needles, rosary beads, and decorated mounts.71 This material demonstrates how the friary adapted to a marine environment and economy, and profitably utilized sea routes that gave it access to large fishing communities.

67 

Gustavsson, ‘Från säljägare’; Gustavsson, Hamnö; Gustavsson, ‘Hamnö’; Gustavsson, ‘Medeltida gravar’; Gustavsson, ‘Nya rön’; Gustavsson, ‘Undersökningar’. 68  Gustavsson, Hamnö, p. 28. 69  Gustavsson, ‘Undersökningar’, pp. 176–80. 70  Gustavsson, ‘Nya rön’, pp. 10–13; Gustavsson, ‘Undersökningar’, pp. 180–84. 71  Gustavsson, Hamnö, pp. 9–21.

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The Bridgettine Monastery of Naantali The last medi­eval monastic institution founded in Finland was the Bridgettine monastery of Naantali (Lat.  Vallis gratiae, Sw.  Nådendal), the only proper monastery in the diocese. It had quite a complex foundation history. Written sources reveal that planning for a Dominican female priory began in the 1410s, but eventually in 1438 a decision was made to build a Bridgettine monastery in Karinkylä, Masku in south-western Finland.72 Between 1439 and 1441, construction work started in Karinkylä, and a community of brothers and sisters moved there from Vadstena in Sweden. The unexcavated early monastic remains still survive even though the monks and nuns had established that the damp soil was unhealthy and unsuitable for habitation. They began to campaign for the relocation of the monastery. In 1441, a decision was made to build a new monastery in Pyhäjoki in Perniö, but finally a new location was found in Naantali in 1442.73 The town of Naantali was founded in the 1450s to serve the economic and labour needs of the new monastery and provide shelter for visiting pilgrims. The monastery and its church were consecrated in 1462. The town remained an insignificant settlement throughout the Middle Ages, whereas the monastery quickly became one of the largest landowners in medi­eval Finland. It was originally built in wood, but a church of stone was erected in the 1480s or 1490s, and the rest of the monastic structures were rebuilt in stone around 1500.74 The monastery at Naantali consisted of a large community compared to the mendicant houses in Finland. In 1487, the monastery housed fifty-four sisters and sixteen brothers, and an unknown number of lay members as well as domestic servants and labourers. It had a residence for wealthy persons to spend their last days in the monastery, and in 1495 there were over fifty such inhabitants in Naantali. The economy of the monastery was based on its vast land properties which provided agrarian products and taxes. Moreover, the sisters produced high-quality textiles, some of which have survived to the present day.75 The monastery’s church is still standing, converted into a parish church, but the other monastic buildings have been lost (map 12.5). Historian Reinhold 72 

DF no. 2267. Hiekkanen, ‘De finska klostren’, pp. 143–46; Leinberg, De finska klostrens historia, pp. 193–94; Salonen, ‘Luostarin ja Maskun alueen yhteinen historia’, pp. 75–78. 74  Hiekkanen, Keskiajan kaupungit, iv, 8–9; Salminen, ‘Suomen “pienet” kaupungit’. 75  Nordman, ‘Naantalin nunnien käsitöitä’; Vilkuna, ‘Armon laakson suurtalous’, p. 123. 73 

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Map 12.5. The plan of the Bridgettine monastery in Naantali. Source: Hausen, Nådendals kyrka och klosterruiner.

Hausen excavated the whole complex in 1872–73, and almost all that is known about the plan of the monastery derives from his interpretations and limited reconstruction. Further fieldwork took place inside the church in 1963, and since the 1990s, archaeo­logist Kari Uotila has directed several excavations inside the church and around the edges of the monastic complex.76 The monastery stands on a small headland, and the sea surrounds it on three sides. Since Hausen recorded the delineation of the walls, but not other features, his interpretations of the monastic plan derive largely from the betterunderstood plan of Vadstena monastery, which makes the results somewhat suspect. Nevertheless, in general, the residential buildings are close to the sea on the west and north, while the more public area of the church is nearest to the town in the south-east corner. 76 

Hausen, Nådendals kyrka; Uotila, Naantalin luostarin rannassa; Uotila, Lehtonen, and Tulkki, Vallis gratiae.

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Nuns occupied the east wing of the monastic complex (A–H). The garth or garden for the nuns was located on the northern side of the church, and was surrounded by cloister walks. The nuns’ interaction with the outside world took place in rooms divided by a wall (A and B). Room D functioned as the chapter house. Hausen suggests that the northernmost rooms of the wing (E–H) were reserved for domestic uses, while Building K functioned as the refectory, and Building N was the monastic brewery. The row of rooms on the western side of the church were reserved for the monks, Room P being the reception room, S the refectory, and T the kitchen, while the corridor Y was part of the cloister walk. The buildings south of the church (U, V) were kept for pilgrims.77 The monastery was clearly more sheltered from lay people than were the mendicant friaries. Yet the complex dominated the landscape, standing on a small peninsula encircled by the sea. It also constituted a counterpoint to the town separated from the monastic area by a bay that has silted over since the Middle Ages. Although the sea with its communication and transportation routes was important for the positioning of the monastery at Naantali, it also served the function of separating the site from the surrounding landscape.

Conclusion: Monastic Sites in Border Landscapes The Finnish monastic foundations were shut down during the sixteenth century. King Gustaf Vasa launched the Reformation in his kingdom, and the Diet of Västerås in 1527 is regarded as the official date of its inception. The Dissolution progressed quite coherently. The majority of silver and gold objects in monastic institutions were confiscated by the Crown in the 1530s, and soon their lands were confiscated. After their economic basis was gone, the inhabitants had to find new livelihoods. Friary churches were converted into Lutheran parish churches, while the rest of the monastic buildings were used as a source of raw materials. For instance, in Kökar, the friary’s ecclesiastical silver was confiscated in 1536, and in 1539 it lost its lands. By the 1640s, the church was in ruins.78 In Turku, the Dominican friary was closed down in 1536, and the brothers were dispersed around the diocese. In the following year, the friary and the town were badly damaged by fire, and the Dominican friary along with

77  78 

Hausen, Nådendals kyrka, pp. 43–58. Gustavsson, Hamnö, pp. 26–27.

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its lands were taken over by the Crown. The townspeople and the Crown began to use the ruins as a supply of bricks.79 Despite the near complete disappearance of monastic sites after the Refor­ mation — today only the churches survive above the ground — and the small number of them in Finland, the impact of the mendicant friaries and the monastery on the cultural fabric and landscape of the diocese of Turku was significant. However, the environmental conditions kept the communities very small, and consequently, the number of monastic institutions remained low, and the scale of the sites limited. Political circumstances in the border region shaped the establishment of the religious orders. The late arrival of Christianity in Finland did not promote the older monastic orders, instead favouring the mendicant orders, and the Bridgettine order which had its roots in Scandinavia. The founding of the Dominican friary in the Turku area around the mid-thirteenth century was part of strengthening the Swedish administration in the region. Similarly, the founding of the two mendicant friaries in Vyborg at the turn of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and the Franciscan friary in Rauma in the mid-fifteenth century, formed part of the plans to strengthen the eastern border region of the newly established Union of Kalmar. Nevertheless, Eric Christiansen points out that the friaries were founded in the core areas of the diocese, where the population was densest, instead of the inland peripheries. The hold on the ultimate frontier was secured through other means, like the secular administration.80 Two factors in particular seem to have been significant for the positioning of friaries in the landscape. The first one was urbanization. Not only were five of the six foundations established near towns, but in fact, the religious orders played a crucial role in the foundation of four of the six medi­e val towns in Finland. An urban setting was especially characteristic of the Dominican order. In Turku, the Dominicans played a role in shaping the overall urban layout, although they had to modify their architecture to suit the difficult local terrain and climate. In Vyborg and Rauma, the founding of the urban and monastic institutions was interlinked, and the monastic communities took a prominent position in the urban landscape. In Naantali, a new town was created to serve the needs of the monastery. It seems that monastic establishments were created

79  Immonen and others, ‘Turun Pyhän Olavin dominikaanikonventti’, p. 4; Leinberg, De finska klostrens historia, p. 79. 80  Christiansen, The Northern Crusades, p. 178.

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intentionally in pre- or semi-urban areas to further urbanization. They were used to stabilize the European urban culture. The second factor affecting the positioning of the monastic communities was the sea. The Dominican friary in Turku was one of the so-called conventus maritimi (maritime convents) along with the Dominican communities in Tallinn and Visby. The name was bestowed on them on the basis of their intimate connection with the sea. Proximity to the sea is also apparent in the two friaries of Vyborg. Moreover, the friary at Rauma was founded close to fishing areas, and the mendicant community of Kökar was involved in fishing themselves. In Kökar, the absence of a town or large permanent lay community probably dictated the distinct design of the friary. In broad terms it followed the conventional monastic arrangement with a central yard or garden, but otherwise the complex consisted of a rather peculiar set of separate buildings. In fact, the layout of Kökar epitomizes the way in which monastic institutions amalgamated their conventional design principles and behaviours with solutions better suited to a peripheral environment. This shows how the establishment of monastic institutions formed a tool for managing a border landscape. Europeanization can be seen in the find assemblages collected from the sites as well. They conform to the profile of ecclesiastical material culture repeatedly encountered in monastic places across Northern Europe. Monasticism appears to have actually founded centres of pan-European character in the border landscape, and thus the adjustments the sites display cannot be considered as forms of highly developed hybridization.

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Works Cited Primary Sources Diplomatarium Fennicum [DF] (Helsinki: National Archives of Finland)  [accessed 16 February 2018]

Secondary Works Appelgren, Hjalmar, ‘Det underjordiska Åbo’, Finskt Museum, 1901 (1902), 49–65 Blomqvist, Ragnar, ‘Dominikanernas byggnader’, Kulturhistoriskt lexikon för nordisk medeltid från vikingatid till reformationstid, 3 (1958), cols 167–74 Bonniwell, William R., A History of the Dominican Liturgy, 1215–1945, 2nd edn (New York: Joseph F. Wagner, 1945) Brusila, Heljä, ‘Pyhän Olavin dominikaaniluostarin raunioista’, in Helena Soiri-Snellman and Heljä Brusila, Kaskenlinna: Asunto Oy Kaskenlinnan rakennushistoria ja Pyhän Olavin luostarin rauniot, Turun maakuntamuseo — Julkaisuja, 1 (Turku: Turun maakun­tamuseo, 2001) Bruzelius, Caroline, ‘The Dead Come to Town: Preaching, Burying, and Building in the Mendicant Orders’, in The Year 1300 and the Creation of a New European Architecture, ed. by Alexandra Gajewski and Zoe Opacic, Architectura medii aevi, 1 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008), pp. 209–30 —— , Preaching, Building, and Burying: Friars in the Medi­eval City (New Haven: Yale Uni­ver­sity Press, 2014) Christiansen, Eric, The Northern Crusades: The Baltic and the Catholic Frontier, 1100– 1525 (London: MacMillan, 1980) Gallén, Jarl, ‘Kökar, Klosterbröderna och havet’, Maritima medeltidsstudier, 2 (1989), 15–57 —— , Det ‘Danska itinerariet’: Franciskansk expansionsstrategi i Östersjön (Helsingfors: Svenska litteratursällskapet i Finland, 1993) Gardberg, Carl Jacob, Veritas — sanningen! Dominikanerna i Åbo under medeltiden (Esbo: Schildt, 2005) Gilchrist, Roberta, ‘Monastic and Church Archaeo­logy’, Annual Review of Anthropo­logy, 43 (2014), 235–50 Gustavsson, Kenneth, ‘Nya rön om Kökars kloster’, Sanct Olof, 40 (1986), 116–38 —— , ‘Medeltida gravar vid Kökars kloster’, Sanct Olof, 42 (1988), 149–57 —— , ‘Hamnö, farleder och vårdlaser’, Åländsk odling, 49 (1989), 117–33 —— , ‘Undersökningar vid franciskanerkonventet på Kökar, Åland’, Hikuin, 20 (1993), 171–86 —— , Hamnö: En medeltida klostermiljö i ytterskärgården (Mariehamn: Museibyrån, 1997) —— , ‘Från säljägare till klosterbröder’, Skärgård, 2 (2005), 8–13 Haggrén, Georg, ‘Keskiajan arkeo­logia’, in Muinaisuutemme jäljet: Suomen esi- ja var­ hais­historia kivikaudelta keskiajalle, ed.  by Georg Haggrén and others (Helsinki: Gaudeamus, 2015), pp. 369–536

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Harjula, Janne, and others, Koroinen: Suomen ensimmäinen kirkollinen keskus (Turku: Turun Historiallinen Yhdistys, 2018) Hausen, Reinhold, Nådendals kyrka och klosterruiner (Helsingfors: Amos Anderson, 1922) Hiekkanen, Markus, Keskiajan kaupungit: Varhainen kaupungistumiskehitys ja nykyinen suunnittelu, ii: Rauma (Helsinki: Museovirasto, 1983) —— , Keskiajan kaupungit:  Varhainen kaupungistumiskehitys ja nykyinen suunnittelu, iv: Naantali (Helsinki: Museovirasto, 1988) —— , ‘De finska klostren under medeltiden: Arkeo­logiskt och byggnadshistoriskt perspektiv’, Hikuin, 20 (1993), 123–54 —— , ‘Die Gründung der Stadt Turku’, in Civitas et castrum ad Mare Balticum: Baltijas arheo­loģijas un vēstures problēmas dzelzs laikmetā un viduslaikos, ed.  by Ēvalds Mugurēvičs and Ieva Ose (Riga: Latvijas vēstures institūta apgāds, 2002), pp. 156–77 —— , ‘Turun Pyhän Olavin konventti ja sen rakennusmuistot’, Turun maakuntamuseo: Raportteja, 18 (2003), 89–104 —— , ‘An Outline of the Early Stages of Ecclesiastical Organization in Finland’, in Current Issues in Nordic Archaeo­logy: Proceedings of the 21st Conference of Nordic Archaeo­ logists, 6–9 September 2001, Akureyri, Iceland, ed. by Garðar Guðmundsson (Rey­kja­ vik: Society of Icelandic Archaeo­logists, 2004), pp. 161–65 —— , Suomen keskiajan kivikirkot, Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura (Helsinki: Suo­ma­ laisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, 2007) Hockman, Tuula, ‘Fransiskaanikonventti’, in Risti ja lounatuuli: Rauman seurakunnan historia keskiajalta vuoteen 1640, ed. by Anu Lahtinen and Miia Ijäs (Rauma: Rauman seurakunta, and Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, 2015), pp. 26–35 Immonen, Visa, ‘Buried in the Archives — Medi­eval Graves at the Dominican Convent of St Olaf in Turku, Finland’, Mirator, 16 (2015), 29–51 [accessed 27 February 2016] Immonen, Visa, and others, ‘Turun Pyhän Olavin dominikaanikonventti — aineksia tilankäytön tulkintaan’, Suomen Keskiajan Arkeo­logian Seura, 3 (2013), 3–23 —— , ‘The Dominican Convent of St Olaf in Turku, Finland’, in Lübecker Kolloquium zur Stadtarchäo­logie im Hanseraum, ix: Die Klöster, ed. by Manfred Gläser and Manfred Schneider (Lübeck: Schmidt-Römhild, 2014), pp. 545–58 Jamroziak, Emilia, Survival and Success on Medi­eval Borders: Cistercian Houses in Medi­eval Scotland and Pomerania from the Twelfth to the Late Fourteenth Century (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011) Klemming, Gustaf Edvard, Skrå-ordningar samlade, Samlingar utg. af Svenska fornskriftsällskapet, 27 (Stockholm: P. A. Norstedt & söner, 1856) Korpela, Jukka, Viipurin läänin historia, ii: Viipurin linnaläänin synty (Lappeenranta: Karjalan kirjapaino, 2004) Kostet, Juhani, ‘Erikoisia turkulaisia nimiä vuosisatojen takaa’, in Historian selkosilla: Jouko Vahtolan juhlakirja, ed. by Matti Enbuske, Matti Mäntylä, and Reija Satokangas, Studia historica septentrionalia, 65 (Rovaniemi: Pohjois-Suomen historiallinen yhdistys, 2012), pp. 43–56 Kristjánsdóttir, Steinunn, ‘The Tip of the Iceberg: The Material of Skriðuklaustur Monas­ tery and Hospital’, Norwegian Archaeo­logical Review, 43 (2010), 44–62

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—— , ‘No Society Is an Island: Skriðuklaustur Monastery and the Fringes of Monasticism’, The Journal of Medi­eval Monastic Studies, 4 (2015), 153–72 Krötzl, Christian, ‘Kirkko, paavit ja luostarijärjestöjen leviäminen pohjoisen Itämeren alueelle 1100–ja 1200-luvulla’, Turun maakuntamuseo: Raportteja, 18 (2003), 15–22 Laakso, Ville, Papinniemi in Uukuniemi and Related Archaeo­logical Sites of the Eastern Orthodox Cultural Area in Finland, Archaeo­logia medii aevi Finlandiae, 19 (Turku: Suomen keskiajan arkeo­logian seura, 2014) Lähteenoja, Aina, Rauman kaupungin historia, i: Rauma vuoteen 1600 (Rauma: Rauman kaupungin rahatoimisto, 1946) Lamberg, Marko, Jöns Budde: Birgittalaisveli ja hänen teoksensa, Suomalaisen Kirjalli­ suuden Seura (Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, 2007) Lehmijoki-Gardner, Maiju, ‘Mendikanttisääntökunnat, etuoikeutena köyhyys’, in Keskiajan kirkko: Uskonelämän muotoja läntisessä kristikunnassa, ed. by Tuomas Heik­ kilä and Maiju Lehmijoki-Gardner, Tietolipas, 185 (Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjalli­ suuden Seura, 2004), pp. 198–288 Leinberg, Karl Gabriel, De finska klostrens historia, Skrifter utgivna av Svenska litteratursällskapet i Finland, 14 (Helsingfors: Svenska litteratursällskapet i Finland, 1890) Line, Philip, ‘Sweden’s Conquest of Finland: A Clash of Cultures?’, in The Clash of Cul­ tures on the Medi­eval Baltic Frontier, ed. by Alan V. Murray (Farnham: Ashgate, 2009), pp. 73–99 Malin, Aarno, Der Heiligenkalender der Finnlands: Seine Zusammensetzung und Ent­ wicklung, Suomen Kirkkohistoriallisen Seura (Helsinki: Suomen Kirkko­historiallinen Seura, 1925) Maliniemi, Aarno, ‘Grundandet av dominikankonventet i Åbo och dess förhållande till Sigtuna: Några kritiska randanmärkningar’, in Sigtuna Mariakyrka 1247–1497, ed. by Holger Arbman, Wilhelm Holmqvist, and Rolf Hillman (Sigtuna: Sigtuna Fornhems förlag, 1947), pp. 83–95 Meurman, Otto-Iivari, ‘Muinaismuistojen valvonta Viipurissa’, Viipurin Suomalaisen Kirjal­lisuusseuran toimitteita, 3 (1978), 57–63 Minghi, Julian  V., ‘Introduction: The Border Landscape Concept’, in The Geo­graphy of Border Landscapes, ed. by Dennis Rumley and Julian V. Minghi (London: Routledge, 1991), pp. 1–14 Naum, Magdalena, ‘Re-Emerging Frontiers: Postcolonial Theory and Historical Archaeo­ logy of the Borderlands’, Journal of Archaeo­logical Method and Theory, 17 (2010), 101–31 Neuvonen, Petri, Viipurin historiallinen keskusta: Rakennusperinnön nykytila (Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, 1994) Newman, David, ‘On Borders and Power: A Theoretical Framework’, Journal of Border­ lands Studies, 18 (2003), 13–23 Niukkanen, Marianna, Liisa Seppänen, and Mervi Suhonen, ‘Keskiajan kaupunkirakentaminen Suomessa’, in Suomen kaupunkirakentamisen historia, i, ed. by Henrik Lilius and Pekka Kärki, Kirjokansi, 34.1 (Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, 2014), pp. 27–94

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Nordman, Carl Axel, ‘Naantalin nunnien käsitöitä: Kirjontaa ja kudoksia’, in Muisto­ julkaisu Naantalin 500-vuotisjuhlaan elokuun 23. päivänä (Helsinki: Suomen kirja, 1943), pp. 165–94 Paasi, Anssi, ‘Boundaries as Social Practice and Discourse: The Finnish-Russian Border’, Regional Studies, 33 (1999), 669–80 Parppei, Kati, ‘The Oldest One in Russia’: The Formation of the Historio­graphical Image of Valaam Monastery (Leiden: Brill, 2011) Piebenga, Grite, ‘The Dominicans and their Contribution to Scandinavian Culture’, Yearbook of European Studies, 10 (1997), 73–86 Pirinen, Kauko, Varsinais-Suomen historia, v.3: Kirkkoreduktio Varsinais-Suomessa ja sen seuraukset (Turku: Varsinais-Suomen historiantutkimusyhdistys, 1955) Purhonen, Paula, Kristinuskon saapumisesta Suomeen: Uskontoarkeo­loginen tutkimus, Suomen Muinaismuistoyhdistyksen Aikakauskirja, 106 (Helsinki: Suomen Muinais­ muistoyhdistys, 1998) Ratilainen, Tanja, and others, ‘The Bishop’s Brick House: Remains of Medi­eval Buildings on the Riverbank of Koroinen, Finland’, Lund Archaeo­logical Review, 23 (2016), 61–87 Rinne, Juhani, ‘P. Olavin luostari ja rauniot Kaskenkadun ja Ison Hämeenkadun yhtymän tienoilla Turussa: Rakennushistoriallinen tutkimus’, Lännetär: Varsinaissuomalainen osakunta: Uusi jakso, 1 (1908), 106–68 —— , ‘Pyhän Olavin luostari Turussa’, Suomen Museo, 35 (1928), 89–92 Rowley, Trevor, The Welsh Border: Archaeo­logy, History & Landscape (Stroud: Tempus, 2004) Ruuth, Johan Wilhelm, Viipurin kaupungin historia, i: Vuoteen 1617 (Viipuri: KirjaAitta, 1931) Salminen, Tapio, ‘Dominikaanit Tallinnassa, Viipurissa ja Turussa’, Turun maakuntamuseo: Raportteja, 18 (2003), 37–46 —— , ‘Fishing with Monks — Padise Abbey and the River Vantaanjoki from 1351 to 1429’, in Colonists on the Shores of the Gulf of Finland: Medi­eval Settlement in the Coastal Regions of Estonia and Finland, ed. by Marjo Poutanen, Vantaa City Museum Publications, 22 (Vantaa: Vantaan kaupunginmuseo, 2011), pp. 37–64 —— , ‘Suomen “pienet” kaupungit keskiajalla? — Keskiajan kaupunkien tutkimuksesta Suomessa sekä Ulvilan ja Rauman keskiajan erityispiirteistä ja mahdollisuuksista’, Satakunta, 28 (2011), 8–63 Salonen, Kirsi, ‘Luostarin ja Maskun alueen yhteinen historia 1400-luvulla’, in Naantalin luostarin rannassa: Arkipäivä Naantalin luostarissa ja sen liepeillä, ed. by Kari Uotila, Kåkenhus-kirjat, 3 (Kaarina: Muuritutkimus, 2011), pp. 75–84 Sarvas, Pekka, ‘Rauman kirkkojen rahalöydöt’, in Suomen kirkot: Finlands kyrkor 16, ed. by Marja Terttu Knapas (Helsinki: Museovirasto, 1990), pp. 45–50 Schofield, John, and Alan G. Vince, Medi­eval Towns: The Archaeo­logy of British Towns in their European Setting (London: Continuum 2003) Seppänen, Liisa, Rakentaminen ja kaupunkikuvan muutokset keskiajan Turussa: Erityistar­ kastelussa Åbo Akademin päärakennuksen tontin arkeo­loginen aineisto (Turku: Turun

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yliopisto, 2012) [accessed 27 February 2016] Staecker, Jörn, ed., The European Frontier: Clashes and Compromises in the Middle Ages (Lund: Lund Uni­ver­sity, 2004) Swallow, Rachel, ‘Palimpsest of Border Power: The Archaeo­logical Survey of Dodleston Castle, Cheshire’, Cheshire History Journal, 54 (2014), 24–51 Tool-Marran, Elfriede, Tallinna Dominiiklaste klooster (Tallinn: Eesti Raamat, 1971) Turner, Frederick Jackson, The Frontier in American History (New York: Holt, 1921) Uotila, Kari, ed., Naantalin luostarin rannassa: Arkipäivä Naantalin luostarissa ja sen liepeillä, Kåkenhus-kirjat, 3 (Kaarina: Muuritutkimus, 2011) Uotila, Kari, Hannele Lehtonen, and Carita Tulkki, eds, Vallis gratiae 1443–1648: Arkeo­ logisia tutkimuksia Naantalissa, Kåkenhus-kirjat, 1 (Turku: Aboa Vetus & Ars Nova Museum, 2003) Valonen, Niilo, ‘Turun viemärikaivauslöydöistä’, Turun Kaupungin Historiallinen Museo: Vuosijulkaisu, 20/21 (1958), 12–110 Vilkuna, Anna-Maria, ‘Armon laakson suurtalous’, in Naantalin luostarin rannassa: Arki­ päivä Naantalin luostarissa ja sen liepeillä, ed.  by Kari Uotila, Kåkenhus-kirjat, 3 (Kaarina: Muuritutkimus, 2011), pp. 123–30 Westerdahl, Christer, ‘The Maritime Itinerary of the Tax Register of King Valdemar Sejr of Denmark (1202–1241)’, Deutsches Schiffahrtsarchiv, 13 (1990), 325–75 Ylimaunu, Timo, and others, ‘Borderlands as Spaces: Creating Third Spaces and Fractured Landscapes in Medi­eval Northern Finland’, Journal of Social Archaeo­logy, 14 (2014), 244–67

Settlement

At Blackfriars Priory: Dominican Priories within Urban ­ raphy in Medie ­ val Scandinavia Geog Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen

G

iven their predominantly urban location, the friars of the mendicant orders generally had less freedom to decide where and how to build their houses than did their monastic colleagues residing in the open, rural countryside. Perhaps partly for the reason of such external limitations, the mendicant orders had relatively few, if any, formal regulations about the location and form of their houses, and when studying their houses across Europe, it becomes apparent that even houses of the same mendicant order and within the same province present numerous individual variations. No two houses are situated or formed completely alike, or as stated by the Dominican historian William A. Hinnebusch: ‘Anyone who expected to find a standard pattern in the sites Dominicans picked for their priories would be badly disappointed’.1 However, in spite of variations — and often minor — differences, it is still possible to detect a number of recurrent patterns and common features in the topo­ graphy of mendicant houses in medi­eval urban geo­graphy. Numerous studies from across Europe have long noted that mendicant houses often had a peripheral location in the urban landscape; an observation, for which scholars have offered several different explanations. Some scholars have noticed that mendicant houses were often found close to certain features in the urban landscape, 1 

Hinnebusch, The History of the Dominican Order, p. 263.

Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen ([email protected]) is Associate Professor at the Department of Nordic Studies and Linguistics at the Uni­ver­sity of Copen­hagen. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 331–356 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117269

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such as cathedrals, castles, town halls, market squares, or city gates, while others have seen preferences for certain socio-geo­graphical districts, such as neighbourhoods dominated by merchants or artisans. Finally, the physical shape of the priories and friaries themselves has also received attention, including the geo­graphical orientation of mendicant churches as compared to the ‘domestic buildings’, usually positioned at either the northern or the southern range of the complex. This paper will present common features in the topo­graphy of Dominican priories within the urban geo­graphy of medi­eval Scandinavia. The observations from Scandinavia will be compared to similar studies from other parts of Northern and Central Europe.

Material and Method The Dominican order had thirty-one male houses located in the province of Dacia from the early 1220s to the late 1530s. As seen from map 13.1, these were distributed throughout Scandinavia, that is, in the medi­eval kingdoms of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden — as far north as Nidaros (modern Trondheim, Norway) and east as far as Vyborg (today in Russia). Tallinn was also part of the Dacian province due to Estonia’s status as a Danish duchy. The density of priories varied greatly within the province, reflecting variations in population density, with its main concentration in Denmark (which in the Middle Ages also included Skåne, now southernmost Sweden) and to a minor extent around the lakes of Sweden. Due to the Lutheran Reformation in Northern Europe, all Dominican houses within the province of Dacia were dissolved in the 1520–30s. Seven of the priory churches were then turned into Protestant parish churches, and the domestic ranges of the remaining priories were to a differing degree used for various secular uses — from town halls and schools to hospitals and prisons. Most Dominican buildings in Scandinavia were torn down in the sixteenth century, with their sites usually rebuilt and integrated into the post-medi­eval urban landscape. For the present study this means that the available evidence for the location and shape of the priories varies significantly, ranging from sites such as Ribe, where nearly the entire priory complex still stands, with only a few changes made to the overall medi­eval townscape, to places such as Trondheim and Hamar, where the exact locations of the Dominican houses remain uncertain. In spite of differences in source material and knowledge, I have tried to normalize the basis for my study as much as possible by creating a series of reconstructed city maps of all the ‘Dominican cities’ in the province of Dacia. This

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Map 13.1. Location of Dominican houses in Dacia. Map by the author.

has been done by drawing on existing studies and reconstructions, often produced by local historians and archaeo­logists of the respective places. The aim of mapping these ‘Dominican cities’ was to create a series of uniform and easily comparable carto­g raphic presentations of the late medi­e val urban geo­g raphy of the thirty-one cities involved. The reconstructions focus on various urbangeo­graphical features considered important for the analysis: the borders of the late medi­eval urbanized area (i.e. from around 1300–1500), location of known gates, streets, and alleys, castles, city halls, cathedrals, parish churches, episcopal and canonical residences, and all monastic houses — including, of course, the Dominican priories. Where the actual location of the priory church is known within the priory complex, this has been marked with a cross. Areas coloured in yellow represent the known urban district by the end of the Middle Ages, blue represents open water, while the green areas show known locations of medi­eval wetlands within or close to the urban zone.

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Central versus Peripheral Location Studies from the whole of Europe almost concurrently give the impression that mendicant houses were situated predominantly in the periphery of medi­ eval urban areas. Many were often close to the city walls, sometimes even extra muros in the suburbs outside the walls.2 Several priories were, in fact, initially established outside the wall, only to become fully integrated urban institutions when the wall was moved outwards at a later stage.3 Indeed, the widespread scholarly focus on this peripheral urban location of many mendicant houses does not take into account that a substantial number of at least the Dominican priories were, actually, located quite centrally within the cities.4 Nevertheless, it is the peripherality of numerous mendicant friaries that has attracted the bulk of scholarly attention and speculation. Hinnebusch ascribed this peripheral location to the friars’ status as latecomers to the cities, which necessitated them to take whatever property they could get; as vacant plots were cheapest and most abundant nearby or outside the city wall, this is where many priories were placed.5 Others have argued against this practical explanation by pointing out that the mendicant friars enjoyed such popularity at the time of their arrival that such a geo­g raphical humility could have hardly been forced upon them out of financial necessity only.6 Location of a priory may still have been a given decision beyond the friars’ own choice, determined by where the founding benefactors had sites available for them,7 or where the priory buildings could best fit into the urban defence system, as discussed below. However, another widespread interpretation is that the friars deliberately sought the peripheral 2 

For example, Hinnebusch, The History of the Dominican Order, pp. 263–64 (in general); Pochin Mould, The Irish Dominicans, pp. 28–29 (Ireland); Randla, ‘The Mendicant Orders’, pp. 251–52 (Scotland); Le Goff, ‘Apostolat mendiant’ (France and Flanders); Gyürky, Das mittel­alterliche Dominikanerkloster in Buda, pp. 127–28 (Hungary). See also Felskau’s paper on similar topics relating to medi­eval Prague in this volume. 3  For example, in Ypres, Flanders (Trio, ‘What Factors Contributed’, p. 105) and Athenry, Ireland (O’Sullivan, Medi­eval Irish Dominican Studies, p. 107). 4  Hinnebusch, The History of the Dominican Order, p. 263; Le Goff, ‘Apostolat mendiant’, p. 337; O’Sullivan, In the Company of the Preachers, p. 7. 5  Hinnebusch, The History of the Dominican Order, p. 263. 6  Sydow, ‘Kirchen- und Spitalgeschichtliche Bemerkungen’, p. 108; Hecker, Bettelorden und Bürgertum, pp. 64–65. 7  Meckseper, ‘Rotweil’, pp. 98–100; Mindermann, ‘Bettelordenskloster und Stadttopo­ graphie’, p. 84; Kristensen, Klostre i det middelalderlige Danmark, pp. 113–14.

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urban districts for their houses. The staunchest advocate for this thesis has been Jacques Le Goff, who explained the peripheral location of mendicant houses in the cities of medi­eval France as a deliberate policy of the friars to settle in emerging urban districts and suburbs, predominantly inhabited by ‘the new urban classes’ and newcomers from the rural countryside, among whom the pastoral influence of the friars could be expected to be at its height.8 Several scholars have agreed with Le Goff ’s thesis and have expanded it further, including Paul Trio, who has observed that all four mendicant houses of medi­eval Ypres in Flanders, were situated in the suburbs, which were mainly inhabited during the 1250–70s by low-paid workers of the textile industry — and where the friars could also supervise the female religious of a local Clarissan nunnery and two beguine houses.9 In addition to this, C. H. Lawrence has pointed out that mendicants living in the periphery not only became neighbours of the growing mercantile bourgeoisie, whose houses were often found along the streets near the city gates, their location also meant that the friars avoided too much contact with the secular church, who were usually concentrated in the city centres. Indeed, in many European cities, the secular church often had a problem in keeping up with the growth in population, which meant that many peripheral urban districts and faubourgs practically had no parish churches — and, thus, constituted attractive potential parishioners for the mendicants.10 However, equally many — if not more — detailed studies from Brittany, Flanders, the Netherlands, and northern Germany have questioned Le Goff ’s and Lawrence’s theses, especially regarding a mendicant connection to the urban middle and lower classes, as well as the presumed avoidance of the secular church.11 On the contrary, the most recurrent observation from these regions is that the Dominican priories were located close to one or more major secular churches, as well as to the busiest city gates. In the case of Scandinavia, the discussion of centre versus periphery may appear somewhat tenuous, as most medi­eval towns were rather small and the location of a monastic house could equally well be seen as ‘central’ and ‘peri­ 8 

Le Goff, ‘Apostolat mendiant’, p. 337. Trio, ‘What Factors Contributed’, pp. 104–07. Also Norbert Hecker found an apparent and particularly Franciscan presence in urban districts dominated by artisans, workers, and poor people. Hecker, Bettelorden und Bürgertum, pp. 64–67. 10  Lawrence, The Friars, pp. 106–07. 11  Martin, Les ordres mendiants, pp.  25–27; Henderikx, De oudste bedelordekloosters, pp. 109–10; Simons, Stad en apostolaat, pp. 127–28; Bakker, Bedelorden en begijnen, p. 55; Ulpts, Die Bettelorden in Mecklenburg, pp. 83–84 and 101–02. 9 

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Map 13.2. Location of religious houses in medi­eval Roskilde. Map by the author.

pheral’ at the same time. An example of this is Roskilde, where the Dominican priory was situated centrally in the eastern part of town. While the walled priory site took up a good deal of the north-eastern quarter of the city area, as far as the town rampart, it was still only a few minutes’ easy walk from the main entrance of the priory to the cathedral and the city centre (map 13.2). A similar situation can be found for eleven (or one third) of the thirty-one Dominican houses in the province. Only in two cases, at Viborg and Lund, the Dominican

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Map 13.3. Location of religious houses in medi­eval Bergen. Map by the author.

priory was so centrally located that the adjacent site did not reach the outer limit of the urban area. Even when considering the limited size of most towns in medi­e val Scandinavia, it is noteworthy that the location of eighteen (58 per cent) of the Dominican priories can still be regarded as peripheral — in nine cases even extra muros, although this term is somewhat misleading in a Scandinavian context, where most towns were only enclosed symbolically by ramparts, dykes, and ditches, not actual walls. Two of the priories, at Schleswig and Helsingør, were initially founded outside the urban perimeter but eventually ‘moved inside’, as the town limits were extended during the late Middle Ages. Thus, in Scandinavia, as elsewhere in Europe, the medi­e val urban location of Dominican priories can justly be termed as ‘predominantly, although far from exclusively peripheral’. However, in some cases one needs to consider exactly who inhabited the periphery, as in Bergen, where the Dominican priory

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was situated outside the wall west of the city, along with the cathedral and the royal castle (map 13.3).

Proximity to Other Urban Features Whether it was the cathedral with the adjacent cathedral chapter or the royal castle that influenced the location of the Dominican priory in Bergen is impossible to determine based on this case alone. But when compared to the three other priory foundations in Norway, the proximity to other ecclesiastical buildings appears to have been the decisive factor. In Nidaros, Oslo, and Hamar, the residence of the Friars Preachers was constructed right next to the local cathedral. In the view of C. A. A. Lange this strongly suggested that the foundations had been established on the initiative of the Norwegian bishops, possibly with the intended aim that the friars should supervise the clerical education at the cathedral schools.12 A similar suggestion can be made for Denmark,13 where the Dominican priories in five out of seven cases (Lund, Roskilde, Viborg, Ribe, and Schleswig) became neighbours to the local cathedral chapters. In Århus, where this was not the case, the friars were given the former cathedral as a location for their priory, while in Odense, the cathedral chapter consisted of Benedictine monks, who may have been less inclined to welcome Dominican supervisors. In Tallinn, the first Dominican priory was built right next to the cathedral, before it was relocated to a precinct in downtown Tallinn at the foot of the Toompea (‘Cathedral Hill’) before the beginning of the 1260s. Even Jacques Le Goff admitted that the main exception to the rule of the peripheral location of mendicant houses in the urban topo­graphy of medi­eval France could be found in cities with universities and cathedral schools, where the friars usually settled in the ‘Latin quarters’.14 In Strasbourg, the Friars Preachers were indeed relocated from their initial residence outside the city walls to a more central site next to the cathedral in 1248, which happened on the initiative of two high-ranking prelates at the cathedral chapter.15 Even if most Dominican foundations in cathedral cities throughout Northern Europe, especially in the second quarter of thirteenth century, seem 12 

Lange, De norske Klostres Historie, p. 51. Jakobsen, ‘Prædikebrødrenes samfundsrolle’, pp.  138–46; Jakobsen, ‘“What Jesus Means Is…”’; Jakobsen, ‘Who Ordered the Dominicans?’, pp. 243–52. 14  Le Goff, ‘Apostolat mendiant’, p. 337. 15  Rüther, ‘Bischof, Bürger, Bettelbrüder’, pp. 63, 66. 13 

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to have been initiated by bishops and chapters of canons, not all such neighbourhoods were stable. Indeed, Bergen is a classic example of how events could go wrong. The very first instances of a Dominican presence in Bergen are, in fact, concerned with a dispute between friars and secular canons, where the latter deliberately placed their latrines on top of a hillside that sent all the sewage downhill to the entrance of the church and cemetery of their Dominican neighbours. Although several kings, bishops, and papal legates tried to settle the matter between the two ecclesiastical neighbours, they continued their hostilities throughout the Middle Ages.16 The pattern of Dominican foundations located close to cathedral chapters is, however, not valid for all of Scandinavia. For some unknown reason, the phenomenon is not found in Sweden, including present-day Finland, even if Dominican houses were established in most diocesan centres there as well (i.e. Skara, Västerås, Strängnäs, and Turku, but not in Uppsala, Linköping, or Växjö). At Strängnäs, where there was only about 200 m between the two churches, they were still separated by a stream that doubled the actual distance of the street. The same tendency can be seen in the important Swedish cities outside the cathedrals of Lödöse, Kalmar, Skänninge, Stockholm, Sigtuna, Visby, and Vyborg, where the Dominican priories were situated a significant distance from the main secular church. No good explanation for this phenomenon can be put forward, but it would appear that the Swedish bishops and cathedral chapters were less welcoming towards the Dominicans than their fellow bishops in Denmark and Norway. Apart from the bishops, the major initiators of Dominican houses in thirteenth-century Northern Europe were princely rulers and other lay nobles.17 This undoubtedly explains why a number of Dominican priories were constructed in the immediate vicinity of urban ducal castles, as happened in Flanders, where the friars enjoyed great popularity among the region’s countesses.18 Although all three ruling dynasties of high medi­eval Scandinavia appear to have been amicable towards the Friars Preachers, only a few Dominican priories (Helsingborg, Skara, Kalmar, Västerås, and Bergen) were immediate neighbours to royal castles and residences, even if such settlements existed in most towns. In Skara, the neighbourhood became vital in 1278, when Queen Helvig of Sweden escaped captivity by fleeing to the priory next door, when 16 

Diplomatarium OP Dacie (DOPD) 1247 13/8; Jakobsen, ‘Prædikebrødrenes samfundsrolle’, pp. 153–54. 17  Jakobsen, ‘Who Ordered the Dominicans?’, pp. 252–58. 18  Simons, Stad en apostolaat, pp. 124–25, 128; Trio, ‘What Factors Contributed’, p. 104.

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enemies of her husband stormed the local castle of Gälakvist.19 Otherwise, the Scandinavian kings may have hesitated to allow such buildings next to their castles for safety reasons, as the Dominican house in Helsingborg was in fact ordered to be torn down c. 1361 due to the military threat it constituted in case of an enemy siege.20 In Denmark, it would appear that most Dominican priories were placed deliberately at a distance from royal residences.21 The military value of a mendicant house became evident to lay authorities and as a result numerous Dominican and Franciscan houses were physically built into urban fortifications. The most famous example is the Dominican priory of Saint-Jacques in Paris. In Retz in Austria, it was decided that during wartime the Friars Preachers were to abandon their priory and leave it to the municipal guard. Bernhard Stüdeli found the architectural integration of friary and town wall to be so systematic, especially in England, France, Switzerland, Germany, and Bohemia, that he regarded it as a decisive reason for the physical location of mendicant houses.22 Several studies relating to Central Europe in particular seem to support the thesis.23 In Göttingen in Germany, for instance, it would seem that the duke deliberately placed the Dominicans by the city wall so that the construction of the priory church would strengthen its fortification.24 When the Dominican order enjoyed its great period of expansion in thirteenth-century Bohemia during the reign of Přemysl Otokar II, margrave of Moravia (1247–53) and king of Bohemia (1253–78), the foundation of a Dominican house appears to have been a standard element in the royal foundation of new towns throughout the country, with a priory becoming an integral part of the urban defence system.25 When, for instance, the house in Nymburk was founded around 1257, it was explicitly stated in the foundation acts that the priory should strengthen the southern town wall towards the Elbe.26 Further south, in Buda in Hungary, where the Dominican priory was likewise situated next to the city wall, a series of deep vaulted cellars built under the priory in the first half of the fifteenth century has been interpreted 19 

DOPD 1278. Jakobsen, ‘Prædikebrødrene tilbød ham’, pp. 401–02. DOPD 1361 31/12; Jakobsen, ‘Prædikebrødrenes samfundsrolle’, p. 217. 21  Jakobsen, ‘Prædikebrødrenes samfundsrolle’, p. 192. 22  Stüdeli, Minoritenniederlassungen, pp. 74, 77, 132. 23  For example, Berger, Die Bettelorden, p. 312; and the following examples. 24  Mindermann, ‘Bettelordenskloster’, p. 90. 25  Koudelka, ‘Geschichte der böhmischen Dominikanerprovinz’, p. 127. 26  Koudelka, ‘Geschichte der böhmischen Dominikanerprovinz’, p. 147. 20 

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as having had a military function. It is believed that when enemy forces broke through the gate, the guard stationed on the wall could pass unnoticed through the priory cellars and join the main guard at the inner castle.27 Such a deliberate integration into urban fortifications appears to have been mainly a Central European phenomenon. The most northerly examples on the Continent are in Wismar, where the friars were obliged to maintain a part of the city wall,28 in Röbel, where the Dominican priory itself was partly built into the town wall,29 and in Chełmno in Poland, where the Dominican friars in 1307 were even recorded as having constructed a military tower in their part of the town wall.30 Further north, in the Dominican province of Dacia, the phenomenon is practically unknown. Only a few Scandinavian cities were enclosed by a fortified stone wall, and none of the Dominican priories situated in these cities (i.e. in Kalmar, Stockholm, Visby, Tallinn, and Vyborg) are known to have played any active role in their defence. In Kalmar, a tower in the wall close to the priory was called ‘Munketornet’ (Monk Tower), just as the nearby gate was called ‘Munkeporten’,31 but their names probably only derive from their proximity to the priory, as no extant records suggest any active involvement of the friars in the city’s defences. In mid-fifteenth-century Schleswig, the Dominican convent was known to have temporarily held the keys to the city gate by the harbour, but this was hardly of any military importance, as the city was enclosed by water, dykes, and a wooden stockade. The friars apparently did a poor job as gatekeepers, as they were enjoined to hand back the keys to the magistrate after ten years.32 The location of a priory near a town gate was by no means restricted to the Friars Preachers in Kalmar and Schleswig. In total, proximity to a major entrance to a town can be claimed for seventeen out of the thirty-one (55 per cent) Dominican priories in Dacia. Six priories, in Schleswig, Helsingør, Lödöse, Skara, Skänninge, and Vyborg were situated right by the gate or outside the wall on a road leading to the gate. In a further eight instances, in Ribe, Odense, Næstved, Roskilde, Kalmar, Stockholm, Visby, and Turku, the Dominican church was so close to a major gate that it was the first significant 27 

Gyürky, Das mittel­alterliche Dominikanerkloster in Buda, p. 83. Kleiminger, Das Schwarze Kloster, pp. 15–17, 36–37. 29  Vorberg, ‘Beiträge zur Geschichtes Dominikanoerordens’, p. 4. 30  Sarnowsky, ‘Dominikaner und Franziskaner’, pp. 45–46. 31  Olsson and Näslund, ‘Svartbrödraklostret’, p. 480. 32  Rathjen, Schleswig im Spätmittel­alter, pp. 38–39. 28 

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feature to greet the incoming visitor. Finally, three other priories were situated right by the town harbour, in Schleswig, Åhus, Strängnäs, and Västerås. Hence, the location of Dacian Dominican houses fully corresponded to their brethren elsewhere in Northern Europe, where proximity to a busy city gate appears to have been the most common characteristic of Dominican priory settlement in the urban geo­g raphy.33 An obvious explanation for this preference is that the friars wanted to make their churches as visible and accessible for as many people as possible, permanent town residents and visitors alike.

Location within the Social Geo­graphy As mentioned above, several observations and theses have been made regarding the social composition of the neighbourhoods in which the Friars Preachers settled. They do, however, tend to point in rather differing directions: secular canons, university students, female religious, urban working class, middle-class artisans, and upper-class merchants. Hardly any social group of the medi­eval city has been left unrepresented as frequent neighbours of the Dominicans. A tempting conclusion from this would be to believe that the Friars Preachers had no particular preference as to their social neighbourhood. The limited evidence available about the social topo­g raphy of townscapes in medi­e val Scandinavia — mainly derived from written records and fiscal lists, street names, and archaeo­logy — also suggests that they had a broad variety of neighbours. Two or three social groups do, however, stand out and deserve more attention. Mendicant houses in many regions of Northern and Central Europe appear to have acted as attractive ecclesiastical institutions for visitors and foreign settlers. In virtually every city and town throughout medi­eval Northern Europe, where a Dominican priory was situated, there were groups among the lay population that spoke a different native tongue from the dominant language used by the townspeople. Not only were the populations of major cities and trade centres made up of substantial numbers of such foreign minorities, studies from even modest towns suggest a recurrent presence of foreigners: travelling envoys, 33 

For example, Pochin Mould, The Irish Dominicans, pp. 28–29 (Ireland); Randla, ‘The Mendicant Orders’, pp. 251–52 (Scotland); O’Sullivan, In the Company of the Preachers, p. 8 (England and Wales); Simons, Stad en apostolaat, pp. 124–25, 128 (France and Flanders); Bakker, Bedelorden en begijnen, p. 55 (Groningen); Ulpts, Die Bettelorden in Mecklenburg, pp. 83–84 and 101–02 (Rostock and Wismar); Gyürky, Das mittel­alterliche Dominikanerkloster in Buda, pp. 127–28 (Hungary).

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merchants, craftsmen, some passing through, and other more permanent residents. Like anyone else, these foreigners had religious needs, but in most places they would have found themselves left outside the pastoral coverage of the local secular church. Only in the biggest cities with significant ethnic minorities, did particular chapels or even parish churches cater for such communities. In the majority of places, therefore, foreigners had to seek churches and priests elsewhere, and very often they found that their religious needs were best met by the mendicant orders. Not only were the mendicant churches typically bigger and more adaptable to use by external visitors, their saints and liturgy were more likely to be internationally recognizable, and it was here that the foreigners were most likely to find priests, both as preachers and confessional fathers, who could speak their own language.34 By far the most important foreign minority in medi­eval Scandinavia were the German speakers, mainly originating from the Baltic coast as well as Westphalia, the Rhineland, and the Low Countries. German communities settled in nearly every Scandinavian town, where they usually worked as soldiers, merchants, and artisans. Especially in Bergen, Stockholm, and Visby, the German minority constituted a financially significant and politically important group; and even more so along the southern and eastern shores of the Baltic, in Poland and Livonia, where German burghers constituted the dominant urban elite. In Scandinavia, however, close ties between Germans and Dominicans can be found everywhere,35 with priories often located in the same urban districts that were inhabited by the German minority. This is particularly evident in Stockholm, where numerous written sources outline the social and ethnic topo­graphy of the city from the mid-fifteenth century onwards, and the same sources also document a series of close ties between the Stockholm Dominicans and their German neighbours. Even in the smaller Scandinavian towns, such as in Næstved, where written records do not survive, archaeo­logical evidence of different types of domestic pottery points to the same picture; here too the Friars Preachers lived next to the German minority.36 Some urban societies dominated by German speakers present a different state of affairs. Although geo­g raphically situated in Estonia and for a significant time between 1219 and 1346 officially under Danish authority, the city 34 

Jakobsen, ‘Prædikebrødrenes samfundsrolle’, pp. 172–74. This was the topic of my paper held at the ‘Dominican Conference’ in Oxford 2015, ‘Friars Familiar to Folks on Foreign Soil’. 36  Langkilde, ‘Middelalderkeramik fra Næstved’. 35 

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of Tallinn was ethnically governed by its German elite throughout the Middle Ages. The city was divided into two parishes, one dominated by Germans and one by Scandinavians, each allocated to its own church, whereas the Russian inhabitants had a chapel of their own. The Estonian lower classes of Tallinn, however, had no parish church or chapel, and for this reason the Estonians appear to have preferred the church of the local Friars Preachers.37 This relationship probably flourished from the relocation of the Dominican priory in the 1250s from the Toompea to the eastern periphery of downtown Tallinn, close to the harbour district. In addition to the German inhabitants, the rich and informative city records from late medi­eval Stockholm also tell of one professional group, who more than any other dominated the addresses on ‘Svartbrödragatan’ or the Blackfriars Street in Stockholm: they were the goldsmiths. The records indicate that no less than nine named goldsmiths lived along the street that connected Blackfriars Priory to the main town square in the period 1442–1514.38 Another Stockholm goldsmith is recorded as the brother-in-law of a local Dominican lay brother in 1498,39 and in Århus, a goldsmith apparently sought refuge in the Dominican priory during a tense dispute with people of the city in 1438.40 I have not found similar Dominican ties to goldsmiths elsewhere in Northern Europe. Finally, the trade of shoemakers also appears to have had more-than-average contacts with Dominican houses in medi­eval Scandinavia, not only inhabiting the same neighbourhoods, as was the case in Stockholm and Oslo,41 but also through guild-based confraternities.42 Outside Dacia, similar confraternal connections were established between Friars Preachers and shoemakers in Wismar and Bruges,43 but whether this reflects a more widespread relation to this particular craft is difficult to substantiate.

37 

Feldman and others, Baltisches historisches Ortslexicon, p. 400. DOPD 1442 5/3, 1452 6/3, 1452 13/3, 1477 15/11, 1482 5/8, 1482 14/10 (30/10), 1492 23/1, 1493 11/2, 1511 1/12, and 1514 7/8. 39  DOPD 1498 8/10. 40  DOPD 1438 28/10. Jakobsen, ‘Prædikebrødrene tilbød ham’, p. 407. 41  DOPD 1476 22/1, 1480 3/7, 1514 7/8. Schia, Middelalderbyen i Oslo, pp. 66–68. 42  DOPD 1409 18/5, 1424 16/4, 1434 22/7; Jakobsen, ‘Friends of the Friars’, pp. 61–62. 43  Ulpts, Die Bettelorden in Mecklenburg, pp. 268–69; De Pue, Dominikanenklooster te Brugge, pp. 42–43. 38 

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Relocation of Priories It is sometimes argued that the location of medi­e val mendicant houses was rather random and reflected the availability of sites at the disposal of external founders. The multiple cases of relocation of priories and friaries clearly show, however, that neither the orders nor the particular houses felt obliged to stay in a location given to them, if they did not like it. In England, in particular, a significant number of the Dominican houses are known to have moved from their original locations.44 Usually, as in London and York, they transferred from suburban to intra-mural locations,45 but other houses went in the opposite direction, as in Oxford, where the friars left the Jewish quarter within the city for a plot outside the wall with more space and a better water supply.46 Also some of the biggest Dominican houses on the Continent — as in Bo­logna, Paris, Co­logne, and Prague — left their first residences in favour of better locations.47 There could be various reasons behind such a decision to move. When the grandmaster of the Teutonic Order, Anno von Sangerhausen, in 1263 gave the Friars Preachers an extra-mural site for a priory in Toruń in Poland, this was soon changed for a more secure position inside the wall due to the risk of attacks from Prussian pagans.48 And when the Franciscan house in Malmö in Sweden (then Denmark), moved to its third location in 1489, it was allegedly due to health reasons, as their residence by the beach was too moist for them.49 However, by far the most common reason for relocation seems to have been the one stated by the Friars Minor in Bruges, who initially had been given an intramural residence in the northern part of the old city, but subsequently, on their own initiative, moved to a less exclusive address outside the city wall, explicitly in order to bring the friary closer to the townspeople to ease public access to the church.50 As far as can be established, relocation of Dominican priories was not common in Scandinavia. The only certain case is the house in Halmstad, where the friars hardly had any other choice, as the entire town was moved by the local 44 

Hinnebusch, The Early English Friars, pp. 66–71. Dobson, ‘Mendicant Ideal’, p. 112; Röhrkasten, ‘Secular Uses’, pp. 137–38. 46  Hinnebusch, The Early English Friars, p. 11. 47  Koudelka, ‘Geschichte der böhmischen Dominikanerprovinz’, p. 136. 48  Altaner, Die Dominikanermissionen, pp. 177–78. 49  Rasmussen, Die Franziskaner, p. 508. 50  Simons, Stad en apostolaat, p. 120. 45 

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duke in the early fourteenth century.51 A similar reason may have been behind a possible transfer of the house in Turku, which some scholars believe was initially based within the episcopal residence in Koroinen, 1.6 km upstream from Turku, until both the bishop and friars moved to their later location around 1300 or later; another thesis suggests, however, that the Friars Preachers had been in Turku from the beginning.52 In Ribe and Helsingborg, extant papal permissions survive for relocation of the Dominican priories: the former because a devastating fire had ruined the old buildings, and they were in danger of collapsing, the latter at the request of the Danish king, who believed that the priory constituted a military threat to the neighbouring castle.53 However, neither the written records nor the archaeo­logical evidence suggest that these transfers were ever implemented. Within the Dominican province of Dacia, but outside Scandinavia itself, a final example of deliberate priory relocation within the urban area can be seen from Tallinn. When the priory was founded in 1229, the friars were settled at the Toompea, a hilltop surrounded by steep slopes, on which the castle and the cathedral of the newly Christianized province were also situated. For political reasons, the friars had to leave Tallinn along with the Danes in 1233, and when they returned in 1246, they seem at first to have returned to their old premises on Toompea between the castle and the cathedral, approximately where the cathedral school and chapter house were later to be found. At some point, probably in the 1250s, the Friars Preachers had moved to a new location in Tallinn in the downtown area below the Toompea, directly opposite the hill at the very eastern fringe of the urban area, towards the harbour district (map 13.4). No extant sources mention the move to a new location, and we can only speculate about the reason for such a transfer. At first sight, the relocation appears surprising, as the friars apparently gave up an ideal location next to the cathedral and missionary centre of Estonia for a peripheral venue in the shadier outskirts of the growing city. However, a closer look will show that the Friars Preachers in Tallinn had many good reasons to move voluntarily. The Toompea may have been the political and ecclesiastical power centre of the city and duchy, but apart from neighbouring the future cathedral chapter, established in 1266, it had little to offer a mendicant house. Its elevated location with difficult access 51 

DOPD 1344 29/9; Nilsson, Halmstads historia, pp. 27–30. For the whole discussion, see Hiekkanen, ‘De finska klostren’, pp. 127–28. See also Visa Immonen’s paper in this volume. 53  DOPD 1433 17/2 (Ribe); DOPD 1361 31/12 (Helsingborg). 52 

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Map 13.4. Location of religious houses in medi­eval Tallinn. Map by the author.

roads from the economic centre of the downtown districts made it an infertile island separated from the busy urban community, which the mendicants preferred. An idea of just how unattractive a location on the Toompea must have been for a Dominican house is given in an exhaustively detailed description from the winter of 1423–24, when a local Cistercian abbot along with ten burghers of Lübeck and Tartu went to great efforts to explain just how difficult

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and dangerous it was for the youth of the downtown districts of Tallinn to reach the cathedral school on the Toompea — probably situated on the very site of the old Dominican priory. When youths were making their way to the school by the cathedral, they had to endure a most difficult road, especially during wintertime, when the hill was covered with ice and snow. The children literally had to climb their way up, causing injuries to their hands and feet. Travellers had to pass through three gates on the way up, unless they skipped one gate by taking a shorter path, which was almost impossible to climb. The steep road between the gates was only seven to nine feet wide, with the hill on the one side and a precipitous drop on the other, often dropping more than 30 feet down, with rainwater on the road that could easily reach above the ankles. One point of the road by the Kok-tower was renowned for its trickiness, causing numerous accidents for horses, wagons, and children alike, some of whom had been crippled, others killed by falling or drowning in the water below. When one had finally reached the top, the remaining passage to the school was so wet and foul throughout the year, that it was hardly possible to arrive at the school with dry feet.54 Undoubtedly, the report is exaggerated as it aimed to promote the foundation of an alternative school in the downtown district, but even if only half true, it suggests that the Friars Preachers could have expected very few downtown visitors to their priory church for their sermons, Masses, Divine Office, and other liturgies had they remained on the Toompea.

Church-Cloister Orientation Mendicants with the intention of striving towards good public visibility and access to their churches are understood by another spatial characteristic of their priories, namely, their church-cloister orientation. According to the traditional monastic model, perhaps best known from the Cistercian order, the church constituted the northern range of the monastery, but for the mendicant orders, an equal number of their churches were located south of the cloister. Based on surviving remains and archaeo­logical excavations in the province of Dacia, it is possible to establish the church-cloister orientation with certainty in the case of twenty-one of the thirty-one Dominican priories; the result shows that eleven priories had churches located to the north and ten to the south.55 In Ireland, 54 

DOPD 1423–24 winter. North: Schleswig, Ribe, Viborg, Holbæk, Næstved, Åhus, Helsingborg, Västerås, Stockholm, Sigtuna, and Turku. South: Vejle, Århus, Odense, Lund, Lödöse, Skänninge, Strängnäs, Visby, Tallinn, and Oslo. 55 

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the number of south-oriented churches has even led scholars to see this as a special feature of the Irish Dominican foundations.56 As a possible explanation for this deviation from the monastic archetype, Irish scholars have suggested the need for churches to let in daylight. By placing the cloister and domestic buildings north of the church, the friars maximized the amount of natural light that the nave and transept of the church received during the late afternoon and evening, especially needed throughout the day since the Dominicans attracted lay devotees for their liturgical offices.57 In Scotland, where the ratio for mendicant complexes with known church-cloister orientation is ten (south) to seven (north), a less complicated suggestion has been made that ‘the mendicants were simply indifferent about the traditional position of the church’.58 However, when comparing the church-cloister orientation with the overall priory location within the urban geo­graphy, the decision appears to be far from indifferent or random. Of the ten Dominican priories in Dacia with churches situated south of the cloister, all ten priories were located north of the town centre; of the eleven priories with north-oriented churches, ten of them were located south of the town centre. Or, as stated by the Danish archaeo­logist, Vilhelm Lorenzen back in the 1920s, after he had observed a similar pattern for all the mendicant priories in medi­eval Denmark: ‘idet Kirken med velberaad Hu var lagt Byens Centrum saa nær som muligt’ (the church was placed deliberately as close to the town centre as possible).59 Lorenzen’s explanation for this was that the friars wanted to situate their churches as close as possible to the areas with the busiest public traffic, marketplaces, main streets, and the most frequented town gates.60 When Lorenzen first presented his thesis in 1920, knowledge about mendicant priory structures in Denmark was probably only half of our present knowledge, but subsequent excavations have only confirmed his thesis further, even if his findings remain largely ignored. In the two cases of Vejle and Næstved, where historians and archaeo­logists for a long time supposed a priory structure at odds with the church-cloister orientation suggested by Lorenzen, later excavations have proven that this was due to a misunderstanding of the actual conditions and that here too, ‘Lorenzen’s Rule’

56 

O’Sullivan, Medi­eval Irish Dominican Studies, p. 110. Ó Clabaigh, The Friars in Ireland, p. 221. 58  Randla, ‘The Mendicant Orders’, p. 260. 59  Lorenzen, De danske Karmelitterklostres Bygningshistorie, p. 31. 60  Lorenzen, De danske Dominikanerklostres Bygningshistorie, p. 97. 57 

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Map 13.5. Location of religious houses in medi­eval Helsingør. Map by the author.

applies.61 Exactly the same system of orientation can be found for the friaries of the Franciscan order in Scandinavia.62 It should be noted, though, that mendicant churches in Scandinavia were rarely situated directly next to busy public areas, but were rather located at a small distance and connected to them by a priory lane usually 10–100 m long. At the end of the lane, a visitor reached the priory at a small ‘west-gable square’ with two possible entrances, one into the church through a door in its western gable, and one leading into the remaining part of the priory through a door in the southern or northern gable of the adjoining west range. 61 

Jakobsen, ‘Prædikebrødrenes samfundsrolle’, p. 195. As Dr Jørgen Nybo Rasmussen, the leading scholar of the Order of Friars Minor in medi­eval Scandinavia, kindly informed me in a personal mail correspondence. 62 

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Although I believe that ‘Lorenzen’s Rule’, including his explanation for the phenomenon, ought to be acknowledged and considered seriously by archaeo­ logists working on priories where the cloister orientation is still not firmly established, it should not be applied automatically to every priory site. In the case of Helsingør, for instance, the Dominican priory was located at the southwesternmost corner of the city, out by a gate connected to the road leading in the direction of the south-west to Copen­hagen (map 13.5). The place of the church within the priory complex has never been established, but as the priory was located on the north side of this very busy highway, the most obvious suggestion is that the church here, in spite of the priory’s southern location in the city, was oriented southwards towards the street. Such an explanation can, unfortunately, not be given for the one certain exception to the rule in Dominican Dacia, the priory in Sigtuna, where the church was oriented to the north of the cloister, just as the entire priory is located on the northern fringe of the medi­e val town area. Neither the traffic structure, physical topo­g raphy, nor any other institutional feature of the town offer any obvious reason for this deviation, which, thus, in the absence of any better explanation can be seen as the exception that proves the rule.

Conclusion When establishing a Dominican priory within a medi­e val city there was obviously a multitude of conditions and interests to consider, and the friars could hardly expect to get the priory location that was their preferred choice. Nevertheless, studies from the Dominican province of Dacia as well as other regions of Northern Europe reveal a number of general patterns that strongly suggest that the choice of priory location and orientation was neither indifferent nor random. And if the friars did not like the site that they had been given at the outset, they did not hesitate to relocate as soon as they could. As elsewhere in Europe, a significant proportion of the Dominican priories in Scandinavia were located on the periphery of the urban areas. Although geo­ graphical surveys of the two main mendicant orders indicate similar patterns in their locations, a comparison between the foundations of the Dominicans and Franciscans in Dacia shows that Franciscan houses were located more often either quite centrally or in an extra-mural location, whereas the bulk of Dominican houses were situated somewhere in between. In the diocesan centres of Denmark and Norway, the Dominicans almost always resided in close proximity to cathedral chapters, which was not the case in Sweden: here, the

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friars were often neighbouring local royal castles. The most striking comparison between Dominican houses and other urban features in Scandinavia is found in regard to the town gates, a phenomenon also observed elsewhere in Northern Europe. Here, a noteworthy difference between Dominican and Franciscan foundations can be seen in relation to their proximity to urban structures: whereas Dominicans settled in the neighbourhood of cathedrals and city gates, Franciscan friaries — especially in the larger cities — were commonly situated near the major town squares and the town halls. In regard to the social topo­ graphy of the urban landscape, the Scandinavian Dominicans especially appear to have sought the neighbourhood of German minorities, who existed in almost all Scandinavian towns from the thirteenth century onwards. Also some particular occupations, such as goldsmiths and shoemakers, were attracted to the friars. The most essential characteristic of the location of Dominican priories in the medi­e val urban landscape was that the priory church should be visible and easily accessible to the lay devotees of the city. To increase this attraction, both the Friars Preachers and Minor in medi­eval Dacia consistently constructed their complexes in a way that secured an orientation of the church towards the most frequented public centres of the city. After all, when your raison d’être and whole livelihood are based on preaching the Gospel to as many people as possible, and on the alms that these people would offer in return, it is vital to remain present and available to them all the time, both spiritually as well as physically. Or, as repeatedly claimed by estate agents throughout time, ‘it’s all about location, location, location’.

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Works Cited Primary Sources Diplomatarium OP Dacie online (DOPD), ed. by Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen, 2005– [accessed 1 March 2016]

Secondary Works Altaner, Berthold, Die Dominikanermissionen des 13. Jahrhunderts (Habelschwerdt: Franke, 1924) Bakker, Folkert Jan, Bedelorden en begijnen in de stad Groningen tot 1594 (Groningen: Van Gorcum, 1988) Berger, Thomas, Die Bettelorden in der Erzdiözese Mainz und in den Diözesen Speyer und Worms im 13. Jahrhundert: Ausbreitung, Förderung und Funktion (Mainz: Selbstverlag der Gesellschaft für mittelrheinische Kirchengeschichte, 1995) Dobson, Barrie, ‘Mendicant Ideal and Practice in Late Medi­eval York’, in Archaeo­logical Papers from York Presented to M. W. Barley, ed. by Peter V. Addyman and V. E. Black (York: York Archaeo­logical Trust, 1984), pp. 109–22 Feldman, Hans, Heinz von Zur Mühlen, and Gertrud Westermann, Baltisches historisches Ortslexicon, i: Estland (Co­logne: Baltische Historische Kommission, 1985) Gyürky, Katalin H., Das mittel­alterliche Dominikanerkloster in Buda (Budapest: Aka­ démiai Kiadó, 1981) Hecker, Norbert, Bettelorden und Bürgertum: Konflikt und Kooperation in deutschen Städten des Spätmittel­alters (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1981) Henderikx, Peter A., De oudste bedelordekloosters in het graafschap Holland en Zeeland: Het ontstaan van bedelordekloosters voor ca. 1310 te Dordrecht, Middelburg, Zierikzee en Haarlem, alsmede enige aspecten van de plaats van deze kloosters in het stedelijk leven en daarbuiten gedurende de middeleeuwen (Dordrecht: Historische vereniging Holland, 1977) Hiekkanen, Markus, ‘De finska klostren under medeltiden — Arkeo­logiskt och byggnadshistoriskt perspektiv’, Hikuin, 20 (1993), 123–54 Hinnebusch, William A., The Early English Friars Preachers (Rome: Institutum Histori­ cum Ordinis Fratrum Praedicatorum, 1951) —— , The History of the Dominican Order, i: Origins and Growth to 1500 (New York: Alba House, 1966) Jakobsen, Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig, ‘Prædikebrødrenes samfundsrolle i middelalderens Danmark’ (unpublished doctoral thesis, Uni­ver­sity of Southern Denmark, 2008) [accessed 1 March 2016] —— , ‘“What Jesus Means Is…”— The Dominican Order as Theo­logical Authority for Laity and Clergy in Medi­eval Northern Europe’, in Authorities in the Middle Ages: Influence, Legitimacy, and Power in Medi­eval Society, ed. by Siri Kangas, Mias Korpiola, and Tuija Ainonen (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2013), pp. 123–44

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—— , ‘Friends of the Friars — Confraternal Relations of the Dominican Order in Medi­ eval Scandinavia’, in Bractwa religijne w średniowieczu i w okresie nowożytnym: Religious Confraternities in the Middle Ages and the Modern Era, ed. by Dominika Burdzy and Beata Wojciechowska (Kielce: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Jana Kochanowskiego, 2014), pp. 53–68 —— , ‘Who Ordered the Dominicans? — Initiators behind Dominican Convent Foundations in Northern Europe, c. 1216–1350’, in Monastic Culture: The Long Thir­ teenth Century: Essays in Honour of Brian Patrick McGuire, ed. by Lars Bisgaard and others (Odense: Uni­ver­sity Press of Southern Denmark, 2014), pp. 240–67 —— , ‘“Prædikebrødrene tilbød ham beskyttet ophold hos sig, men han havde ikke tillid dertil…” — Tiggerklostrenes rolle som politisk og juridisk asyl i middelalderens Norden’, in Kyrklig rätt och kyrklig orätt: Kyrkorättsliga perspektiv, ed. by Martin Berntson and Anna Minara Ciardi (Lund: Lunds universitet, 2016), pp. 399–412 Kleiminger, Rudolf, Das Schwarze Kloster in Seestadt Wismar: Ein Beitrag zur Kulturund Baugeschichte der norddeutschen Dominikanerklöster im Mittel­alter (Munich: Neuer Filser Verlag, 1938) Koudelka, Vladimír J., ‘Zur Geschichte der böhmischen Dominikanerprovinz im Mittel­ alter’, Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, 26 (1956), 127–60 Kristensen, Hans Krongaard, Klostre i det middelalderlige Danmark (Højbjerg: Jysk Arkæo­logisk Selskab, 2013) Lange, Christian C.  A., De norske Klostres Historie i Middelalderen (Kristiana [Oslo]: C. Tønsberg, 1856) Langkilde, Jesper, ‘Middelalderkeramik fra Næstved — en undersøgelse og vurdering af keramik som kilde til socialtopografi’ (unpublished master’s thesis, Uni­ver­sity of Copen­hagen, 2007) Lawrence, Clifford Hugh, The Friars: The Impact of the Early Mendicant Movement on Western Society (London: Longman, 1994) Le Goff, Jacques, ‘Apostolat mendiant et fait urbain dans la France médiévale: l’im­ plan­tation des ordres mendiants’, Annales economies-sociétés-civilisations, 23 (1968), 335–52 Lorenzen, Vilhelm, De danske Dominikanerklostres Bygningshistorie (Copen­hagen: Gad, 1920) —— , De danske Karmelitterklostres Bygningshistorie (Copen­hagen: Gad, 1924) Martin, Hervé, Les ordres mendiants en Bretagne (vers 1230–vers 1530): Pauvreté volontaire et prédication à la fin du moyen-âge (Rennes: Université de Haute-Bretagne, 1975) Meckseper, Cord, ‘Rottweil. Sein Stadtbild im Hochmittel­alter’, Schwäbische Heimat, 20 (1969), 89–101 Mindermann, Arend, ‘Bettelordenskloster und Stadttopo­ graphie. Warum lagen Bettelordensklöster am Stadtrand?’, in Könige, Landesherren und Bettelorden: Konflikt und Kooperation in West- und Mitteleuropa bis zur frühen Neuzeit, ed. by Dieter Berg (Werl: Dietrich-Coelde-Verlag, 1998), pp. 83–103

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Nilsson, Sven A., Halmstads historia, i: Den danska tiden (Halmstad: Halmstads Stads Historiekommitté, 1968) Ó Clabaigh, Colmán, The Friars in Ireland, 1224–1540 (Dublin: Four Courts, 2012) Olsson, Martin, and Rolf Näslund, ‘Svartbrödraklostret’, in Kalmar gamla stads kyrkor, Sveriges kyrkor: Småland, iii.3 (Stockholm: Riksantikvarieämbetet, 1976), pp. 480–86 O’Sullivan, Benedict, Medi­eval Irish Dominican Studies, ed. by Hugh Fenning (Dublin: Four Courts, 2009). Originally published as articles in the Irish Rosary, 1948–53 O’Sullivan, Deirdre, In the Company of the Preachers: The Archaeo­logy of Medi­eval Friaries in England and Wales (Leicester: Leicester Archaeo­logy Mono­graphs, 2013) Pochin Mould, Daphne D. C., The Irish Dominican: The Friars Preachers in the History of Catholic Ireland (Dublin: Dominican Publications, 1957) Pue, Piet de, Geschiedenis van het oud Dominikanenklooster te Brugge (1233–1796) (Leuven: Paters Dominikanen, 1981) Randla, Anneli, ‘The Mendicant Orders and their Architecture in Scotland’, in Mendi­ cants, Military Orders, and Regionalism in Medi­eval Europe, ed. by Jürgen Sarnowsky (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999), pp. 243–81 Rasmussen, Jørgen Nybo, Die Franziskaner in den nordischen Ländern im Mittel­alter (Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker, 2002) Rathjen, Jörg, Schleswig im Spätmittel­alter, 1250–1544 (Husum: Gesellschaft für Schles­ wiger Stadtgeschichte, 2005) Röhrkasten, Jens, ‘Secular Uses of the Mendicant Priories of Medi­eval London’, in The Use and Abuse of Sacred Places in Late Medi­eval Towns, ed. by Marjan De Smet and Paul Trio (Leuven: Leuven Uni­ver­sity Press, 2006), pp. 135–51 Rüther, Andreas, ‘Bischof, Bürger, Bettelbrüder: Straßburgs Mendikanten zwischen bischöflicher Herrschaft und städtischer Landnahme’, in Könige, Landesherren und Bettelorden: Konflikt und Kooperation in West- und Mitteleuropa bis zur frühen Neuzeit, ed. by Dieter Berg (Werl: Dietrich-Coelde-Verlag, 1998), pp. 61–81 Sarnowsky, Jürgen, ‘Dominikaner und Franziskaner im Ordensland Preußen’, in Franciscan Organisation in the Mendicant Context, ed. by Michael Robson and Jens Röhrkasten (Münster: Lit, 2010), pp. 43–64 Schia, Erik, Middelalderbyen i Oslo: En rekonstruksjon (Oslo: William Dall, 1994) Simons, Walter P., Stad en apostolaat: De vestiging van de bedelorden in het graafschap Vlaan­deren (ca. 1225–ca. 1350) (Brussels: Paleis der Academiën, 1987) Stüdeli, Bernhard E. J., Minoritenniederlassungen und mittel­alterliche Stadt: Beiträge zur Bedeutung von Minoriten- und anderen Mendikantenanlagen im öffentlichen Leben der mittel­alterlichen Stadtgemeinde, insbesondere der deutschen Schweiz (Werl: DietrichCoelde-Verlag, 1969) Sydow, Jürgen, ‘Kirchen- und Spitalgeschichtliche Bemerkungen zum Problem der Stadt­ erweiterung und Vorstadt’, in Stadterweiterung und Vorstadt, ed.  by Erich Maschke and Jürgen Sydow (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1969), pp. 107–13 Trio, Paul, ‘What Factors Contributed to the Establishment of the Mendicant Orders in Thirteenth-Century Ypres’, in Franciscan Organisation in the Mendicant Context, ed. by Michael Robson and Jens Röhrkasten (Münster: Lit, 2010), pp. 97–111

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Ulpts, Ingo, Die Bettelorden in Mecklenburg: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Franziskaner, Klarissen, Dominikaner und Augustiner-Eremitten im Mittel­alter (Werl: DietrichCoelde-Verlag, 1995) Vorberg, Axel, ‘Beiträge zur Geschichtes Dominikanerordens in Mecklenburg  II: Das Dominikanerkloster zu Röbel’, Quellen und Forschungen zur Geschichte des Domini­ kanerordens in Deutschland, 9 (1913), 1–20

Franciscan Geo­graphy in Medieval Portugal: Architecture, Landscape, and Spirituality Catarina Almeida Marado

D

uring the Middle Ages mendicants settled all over Europe both in urban and rural landscapes. In Portugal they arrived in the early thirteenth century and rapidly spread throughout the entire kingdom. By the end of the fifteenth century the mendicant orders had founded around seventy friaries in continental Portugal (table 14.1) and had also begun to establish themselves in Portuguese territories in North Africa and the Atlantic Islands. However, during these three centuries the pattern of mendicant foundations underwent considerable changes. In the first few years following their arrival, the mendicants (Franciscans and Dominicans) founded five religious houses. Then, in the second and third quarter of the thirteenth century, there was a sudden increase in the number of mendicant foundations, to which the Carmelites and the Hermits of St  Augustine also contributed in the second half of this century. Following this was a hundred-year period in which there was almost no new mendicant building. Finally, at the end of the fourteenth century a new surge in construction occurred, with the number of foundations stabilizing in the fifteenth century (table 14.2).1 Although in Portugal these phases of growth were very similar for all the mendicant orders,2 they were definitely much more evident for the order of 1 

For a more detailed analysis on the development of these four mendicant orders in Portugal see Marado, Arquitetura conventual e cidade medi­eval, pp. 41–57. 2  In Portugal it is only the Hermits of St  Augustine who show the tendency towards reduced numbers in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. As for the Carmelites, their limited presence in Portugal does not allow us to make any such analysis. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 357–381 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117270

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Table 14.1. Number of mendicant foundations in Portugal, established per century, between the thirteenth and the fifteenth centuries. Franciscans

Dominicans Carmelites Hermits of St Augustine Total

13th century

17

7

1

2

27

14th century

8

2

1

3

14

15th century

23

5

2

1

31

Total

48

14

4

6

72

Table 14.2 Number of mendicant foundations in Portugal, established per quarter of the century, between the thirteenth and the fifteenth centuries. Franciscans

Dominicans Carmelites Hermits of St Augustine Total

1201–25

4

1

-

-

5

1226–50

8

3

-

-

11

1251–75

5

2

1

2

10

1276–1300

-

1

-

-

1

1301–25

-

-

-

1

1

1326–50

1

-

-

-

1

1351–75

-

-

-

1

1

1376–1400

7

2

1

1

11

1401–25

5

2

-

-

7

1426–50

7

1

1

-

9

1451–75

7

2

-

-

9

1476–1500

4

-

1

1

6

Friars Minor, which had always controlled a much larger number of religious houses than the other three mendicant orders (table 14.1).3 The different pace of development experienced by the Franciscans and by the other religious orders was of course influenced by the political, economic, and social context of each period. However, it also related to the internal governance of each religious order. This paper, although making intermittent references to external factors, will focus specifically on the impacts that the spiritual changes which 3 

Not only in Portugal, but also in many other European countries. See for example, the earlier expansion pace of the Franciscans and the Dominicans in Germany, England and France in Lawrence, The Friars, p. 103.

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marked the Franciscan order between the thirteenth and fifteenth centuries had on their geo­graphical distribution and on the choice of location in which they settled in Portuguese territory. The spiritual reforms that marked the history of the Franciscans during the Middle Ages have been the focus of successive studies dedicated to this mendicant order.4 This research, in analysing the social, spatial, and material consequences of these transformations, has demonstrated that in general terms during the initial phases the Franciscan friars followed an eremitic way of life by settling in isolated locations. Later, the process of clericalization which the order underwent led them to choose to settle in urban centres. Finally, the emergence of separate observances within the order brought about the formation of two branches that followed the rule somewhat differently and consequently sought out different social and spatial contexts for the establishment of their houses. Much of the research undertaken on Europe, including the studies focusing on Italy by Luigi Pellegrini,5 France by Hervé Martin and more recently by Panayota Volti,6 or Spain by Marta Cuadrado,7 fits well into this general framework although these scholars analysed different territorial realities with broad chrono­logical ranges and thus at various levels of detail. The same holds true for the study on Portugal carried out by José Mattoso which, although dealing only with the thirteenth century, analyses the social and economic framework of the Franciscan monastic houses founded in the country.8 The present paper also centres on the Franciscans in Portugal, extending its analytical scope to encompass the fifteenth century and endeavouring to understand how the spiritual changes which the order of Friars Minor was experiencing at the time materialized in Portuguese territory and the extent to which they left a mark on its rural and urban landscapes.9 A list has been drawn up 4 

See among others, Robson and Röhrkasten, eds, Franciscan Organisation; Lawrence, The Friars. 5  Pellegrini, ‘Gli insediamenti degli ordini mendicante’; Pellegrini, ‘Insediamenti rurali e insediamenti urbani dei Francescani’. About Italy see also several studies in Les ordres mendiants et la ville en Italie centrale. 6  Martin, Les ordres mendiants en Bretagne; Volti, Les couvents des ordres mendiants. 7  Cuadrado, ‘Un nuevo marco socioespacial’. 8  Mattoso, ‘O enquadramento social e económico das primeiras fundações franciscanas’. 9  This article is the result of the research project entitled ‘Portuguese Urbanistic Systems of a Monastic Nature’, carried out at the Centre of Social Studies, Uni­ver­sity of Coimbra, with funding from the FCT-Foundation of Science and Techno­logy, Portugal (Ministério da Educação e Ciência e Fundo Social Europeu-POCH).

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of the Franciscan houses founded in continental Portugal during this period,10 followed by the mapping of all their houses, be it on a countrywide scale or at a more detailed scale for a group of cities. This work has enabled us to view not only the geo­graphical distribution of the order at any moment but also the spatial characteristics of the locations where they constructed their friaries. Once the various dynamics have been identified they are next interpreted in light of the transformations that the Franciscans were undergoing, thus establishing interrelationships between external and internal factors, while bearing in mind the particular characteristics of each mendicant settlement and the distinct development of the order in Portugal.

The Eremitical Phase Within the context of the first phase of expansion of the order of Friars Minor throughout Europe,11 it was Friar Gualter and Friar Zacarias who were sent to Portugal. They arrived in 1217 and established four houses (table 14.2),12 all of which were located near urban centres on Portuguese lands north of the Tagus River (Guimarães, Coimbra, Lisbon, and Alenquer). This was due to the fact that the more southern regions of present-day Portugal were still under Muslim control (map 14.1). Of these locations, Guimarães, the northernmost of the four, was the seat of the counts of Portucale (condes de Portucale), the nobleman D. Henrique of Burgundy and D.ª Teresa of León (parents of the first king of Portugal, D. Afonso Henriques). Frei Manoel da Esperança, the order’s seventeenth-century chronicler, states that it was here in 1214 that St Francis of Assisi himself, during his pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, met with D.ª 10 

The collection of data on the founding of religious houses is based essentially on consultation of the Guia histórico das ordens religiosas em Portugal (Sousa, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal), after which, information was compared with other sources: Dicionário histórico das ordens, ed. by Franco and others; Mattoso, Inventário das Ordens monástico/conventuais; Esperança, Historia Seráfica da Ordem dos Frades Menores. Soledad, Historia Seráfica da Ordem; Belém, Chronica Serafica da Santa Provincia dos Algarves. 11  The first mendicants were sent to Germany, France, Portugal and Spain, and the Holy Land. Robson, The Franciscans, pp. 22–36. 12  There are some doubts about the date of the Franciscans’ arrival in Portugal. The chronicler of the order Frei Manoel da Esperança states that they departed from Italy in June 1216 and entered Portugal that same year, settling first in Alenquer and Guimarães, while other authors point to 1217, after the general chapter of the order in Assisi. See Esperança, Historia Serafica da Ordem dos Frades Menores, i, 62 and Gomes, ‘800 anos de presença franciscana em Portugal’, p. 21.

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Map 14.1. Franciscan founda­tions in Portugal (1201–25). Map by the author.

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Map 14.2. Franciscan foundations in Portugal (1226–50). Map by the author.

Urraca, wife of King Afonso II (1211–23).13 Coimbra and Lisbon were the two most important cities in Portugal at that time.14 Finally, Alenquer was a town located near Lisbon belonging to the Infanta D.ª Sancha, one of the sisters to King Afonso II, who was a notable supporter and benefactor of the friars. 13 

This information is mentioned by Frei Manoel da Esperança (Esperança, Historia Serafica da Ordem dos Frades Menores, i, 44); however, there is no documented proof to attest to St Francis of Assisi’s passing through Portugal. 14  Coimbra was the first capital of the kingdom, and Lisbon, to the south, was its successor. On the topic of the capitals of Portugal, see Rossa, ‘Ensaio sobre a itinerância da capitalidade em Portugal’, pp. 14–19.

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In this initial phase, although the friars selected the most important cities of the kingdom, they did not establish their houses next to the urban centres. In Guimarães, they settled in Monte de Santa Catarina, a remote location approximately 1.5 km from the town. In Coimbra, they were first housed at the Ermida de Santo Antão dos Olivais, situated on top of a hill some 2 km from the city. In Lisbon, they chose the Ermida dos Mártires, located in an uninhabited spot to the west of the city about 0.5 km from the early city walls. And in Alenquer, they settled at the Ermida de Santa Catarina which was located beyond a hill near the town, on the Alenquer River, approximately 1 km from the town walls.15 As many scholars have suggested previously, the initial period for the order of Friars Minor was characterized by the eremitic experience.16 The early friars lived in accordance with the Gospels, following the life of poverty (individually and collectively) and practising itinerant preaching. They would regularly retreat to the eremus, where they would seek an encounter with God, whether it was ‘simply a remote place or a physical hermitage’.17 The first Franciscan settlements in Portugal are therefore a precise reflection of this initial form of the eremitic way of life. All of them came into existence as temporary establishments, founded in pre-existing small churches located in distant places, quite far from urban centres.

Approaching the Cities After an initial period dedicated to itinerant preaching and devoted to following the life of the Apostles, the Franciscan movement evolved rapidly, becoming a powerful instrument for evangelization in the service of the Holy See. As a result, these early friars no longer set out primarily as itinerant preachers, instead dedicating themselves to more clerical endeavours. They subsequently abandoned the more isolated areas where they had once settled to establish themselves permanently near cities and towns. This process became more evident following the death of St Francis in 1226, yet this was a time at which no 15 

About these four religious houses see Sousa, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal, pp. 273–75. Several authors have dedicated their research to this question, in particular Luigi Pellegrini, who has done several studies on Franciscan settlements in Italy, taking up this theme in many of them. See, among others, Pellegrini, ‘Gli insediamenti degli ordini mendicante’ and Pellegrini, ‘Insediamenti rurali e insediamenti urbani dei Francescani’. Godet also offers a good historio­graphic reading of this theme in Godet-Calogeras, ‘Illi qui volunt religiose’, pp. 308–10. 17  Godet, ‘Illi qui volunt religiose’, p. 331. 16 

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other Franciscan house was founded in Portugal.18 However, in the 1230s, the drive to establish new houses was renewed and continued until the mid-1270s (table  14.2). During this period the friars spread throughout the Portuguese realm in what can be identified as a movement of the order on a more local level, consolidating and expanding the territory of the recently created province of Santiago (or province of Portugal), and in particular the custody of Portugal which comprised the Portuguese friaries.19 This expansionist movement was carried out in two phases (maps 14.2, 14.3). In the first phase, which lasted until the middle of the thirteenth century, the Friars Minor were mostly concentrated in the central region of Portugal, given that southern lands were under Muslim control 20 and that the less urban north of the country was dominated by the presence of the older monastic orders, the Benedictines and the Cistercians

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Map 14.3. Franciscan foundations in Portugal (1251–75). Map by the author.

18  This was a period marked by the arrival in Coimbra (at the Mosteiro de Santa Cruz) of the relics from the five Franciscans martyred in Morocco, friars who had been received by Coimbra by D.ª Urraca (wife of King Afonso II) and who had been guests of the Infanta D.ª Sancha (sister to the king) in Alenquer. 19  The province of Spain (Hispania) which covered all of the Christian lands on the Iberian Peninsula, was created in 1219. In 1232, it was divided into three: Aragon, Castile, and Santiago (or Portugal, the name appearing in 1233). Within the latter, Portuguese friaries were included, forming a custody (the custody of Portugal or of Lisbon), whose first documentary reference dates back to 1248. In 1272 the custody was split into two: the Lisbon custody (with friaries located south of the Tagus River) and the Coimbra custody (with friaries located north of the Tagus River), whereas the friary in Bragança remained within the custody of Ourense (Spain). 20  The Reconquista concluded in 1249 with the conquest of the kingdom of the Algarve.

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(map 14.2).21 In this period, friaries were founded in quick succession in Leiria (1232), Oporto (1233), Covilhã (1235), Guarda (1235), Estremoz (1239), Portalegre (1240), Santarém (1242), and Évora (1245). In the second phase, from about 1250 to 1275, another group of friaries was founded, and although fewer in number and more spread out over time, they were primarily built in the most remote areas of the country, in the extreme northern and southern regions of Portugal (map 14.3). With the exception of Torres Vedras (1257), located in central Portugal, the friars settled in the distant and northernmost towns of Lamego (1271) and Bragança (1271), in the Beira Alta and Trásos-Montes provinces, as well as in the towns of Beja (1268) and Tavira (after 1272), located in the Baixo Alentejo and Algarve provinces, respectively, areas that had been recently acquired in the Reconquista. José Mattoso, in his study of the Franciscans’ presence in Portugal in the thirteenth century, has identified this moment as the one in which the Franciscans ‘emerged victorious from the ecclesiastical and seigneurial reprisals’ and set out on what he calls the ‘Franciscan offensive’. In other words, they succeeded in settling permanently in the cities with the support of the Holy See, in spite of the disputes with the secular clergy over which pastoral activities they would retain, and in so doing the order ‘resolutely penetrates’ the urban milieu.22 In fact, this was the period in which the friars, despite some initial opposition, came to settle permanently within the urban space, selecting locations for their houses just outside the fortification walls near the main city gate and accompanying the first urban expansion outside the walls, as in the case of the major cities of Oporto, Santarém, and Évora,23 but also in smaller towns, like Tavira or Bragança. Let us consider, for example, the case of Évora. Although the chronicles of St Francis refer to the friars being present in Évora in 1224,24 older documen21  The Benedictines were mostly concentrated in the area of ‘Entre Douro e Minho’ and the Cistercians in the ‘Beiras’. See Sousa, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal, pp. 46–47 and 98–99. 22  Mattoso, ‘O enquadramento social e económico’. In this work, the author has sought to determine the relationship between the chrono­logy of the founding of houses and the evolution of the Portuguese urban world. In relation to this matter, Mattoso has established five distinct periods in the history of the Franciscan Order in Portugal in the thirteenth century. 23  On the settlement of mendicant houses in Portugal in the thirteenth century, see Marado, ‘Sharing the City’, pp. 54–70. 24  Esperança, Historia Serafica da Ordem dos Frades Menores, i, 311; Belém, Chronica Serafica da Santa Provincia dos Algarves, ii, 27.

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tary evidence from 1245 mentions lands donated by João Esteves and his wife Maria Martins to the Friars Minor for the enlargement of their religious house.25 This event points to the friars having already settled in the city at this date. The donation document reads ‘illum nostrum arravalde que habemos circa corredoira’ (our property, just beyond the corredoira) where the corredoira was a path that went from the Alconchel Gate towards the south.26 It was in this space that the friary was located, south of the primitive city walls and near the Alconchel Gate, which served as the principal entrance to the city. Until the late fifteenth century, the outer perimeter of the friary grounds would be expanded progressively.27 Along with the donation in 1245 came another in 1250 which included a winepress and property near the Alconchel Gate, the gift of João Pelágio Cordura and his wife, Mayor de Guimarães. In 1280, the merchant Pedro Afonso and his wife Maria Soares gave the friars some land next to the friary, a contiguous space which was already known as the Arrabalde de São Francisco.28 During the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, King Fernando I (1367–83) and King Duarte I (1433–38) would also bestow lands on the friars to provide for the enlargement of the monastic building. The friary complex thus occupied an extensive area south of the first city walls, which in the fourteenth century would lie within the area created by the second walled fortifications (map 14.4). As the precincts of the friary spread outward, the building itself also underwent considerable enlargement, mainly as a result of the need to accommodate the arrival of the royal courts.29 This house was the frequent recipient of benefits from the monarchy from King Afonso III (1248–79) onward, becoming a royal residence during the reign of King Afonso V (1438–81).30 25 

Belém, Chronica Serafica da Santa Provincia dos Algarves, ii, 28 and Pereira, Documentos Históricos da Cidade de Évora, p. 226. On the question of the foundation date, see Branco, ‘Evolução do sítio do século XIII ao século XIX’, p. 9. 26  Beirante, Évora na Idade Média, p. 51. 27  On gifts made to the Franciscans, see Beirante, Évora na Idade Média, pp. 91–93 and pp. 301–15. 28  Belém, Chronica Serafica da Santa Provincia dos Algarves, ii, 28; Pereira, Documentos Históricos da Cidade de Évora, p. 226; Carvalho, Da Toponímia de Évora, p. 92. 29  On the transformation of the edifice into a royal residence, see Fernandes, A Igreja e a Galeria das Damas; Val-Flores, ‘O Paço Real de Évora’; Bilou, A igreja de S. Francisco. 30  King Dinis is thought to have been the first monarch to consider establishing a royal residence in the friary. King Afonso IV would later come to live there and in 1387 King João I claimed for himself the exclusive rights to reside in this friary, informing the religious that no one could dwell in the building except for the king, the queen, and the infantes. Finally, in

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Map 14.4. Location of the Franciscan friary in Évora. Map by the author.

At locations both smaller in size and in the more remote corners of Portugal, such as Bragança, the friars also settled in the areas outside the walled fortifications. In this urban settlement, the Franciscans established their house shortly before 1271, the year in which this friary is mentioned in the will of King Afonso III, who bequeathed the friars a sum of 50 pounds.31 The building was 1439, King Afonso V, with authorization from the pope and the Franciscan Order, the king established the royal court within the monastic complex. 31  This despite chronicler Frei Manuel da Esperança’s affirmation that in 1214 St Francis of

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Map 14.5. Location of the Franciscan friary in Bragança. Map by the author.

located to the north of the city walls and adjacent to the arrabalde neighbourhood which formed outside the walls (map 14.5, fig. 14.1). This Franciscan friary was also the repeated beneficiary of the generosity extended by several monarchs. We know of gifts, for example, and the patronage of works to the church and the friary’s building from King Afonso III (1248–79), King Dinis (1279–1325) and his wife Queen Isabel, as well as King João I (1385–1433), in addition to others, including the House of Bragança.32 During this period, the Franciscan houses established much earlier in the thirteenth century and located in remote places on the outskirts of Coimbra, Guimarães, and Alenquer, were also transferred to places nearer their respective urban centres, in a similar fashion.33 In 1222, the friars moved the house in Assisi, on his way to Santiago de Compostela, is said to have founded a house at this location. Esperança, Historia Serafica da Ordem dos Frades Menores, i, 44–49. 32  Sousa, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal, p. 279. 33  In Coimbra and Guimarães, the Franciscans adopted a pattern of location similar to that of other houses, that is, adjacent to the city walls (Marado, ‘Sharing the City’) whereas in Alenquer, the house was transferred to the palace (Paço) of D.ª Sancha, on her suggestion.

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Figure 14.1. Bragança, early sixteenth century. The Franciscan friary is visible on the left side of the image. Source: Livro das fortalezas situadas no extremo de Portugal e Castela, 1509, PT/TT/CF/159 (ANTT).

Alenquer from the Ermida de Santa Catarina into town, specifically transferring it to the Palace of D.ª Sancha which had been given by the Infanta when she entered the Mosteiro de Santa Maria de Celas in Coimbra. Later, in 1280, they annexed lands bequeathed by D.ª Beatriz, wife of King Afonso III and re-shaped the building.34 The community in Coimbra moved its original house closer to the city in 1242, settling on land given by the daughters of King Sancho I. This friary was located outside the walls on the left bank of the Mondego River where a few years later they began constructing their new buildings. In 1271, the friars in Guimarães left behind their remote hermitage and occupied a hospital known as the Hospital do Concelho, situated within the city limits, where they faced strong opposition from the canons at the collegiate church of Nossa 34 

Esperança, Historia Serafica da Ordem dos Frades Menores, i, 77–78.

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Figure 14.2. Franciscan friary, Évora, 2002. Source: DGPC, SIPA, Igreja de São Francisco / Convento de São Francisco de Évora (IPA.00002724), FOTO.00671258.

Senhora da Oliveira who attempted on several occasions to expel them. The friars resisted and finally in 1282 began constructing their friary.35 Although they started to establish themselves within the urban space, the Franciscans continued to settle in old hermitages, but from the mid-1240s they gradually began to construct their own churches and monastic buildings, which they expanded and enlarged over the following decades with the support of several kings and queens (figs 14.2, 14.3). Thus, by the end of the 1270s the urban landscape of the vast majority of Portuguese cities was marked by the presence of a Franciscan friary in close proximity to the gates to the city.36 35 

Esperança, Historia Serafica da Ordem dos Frades Menores, i, 141–49. In the larger cities there were also houses of the other mendicant orders. Lisbon, Coimbra, Santarém, Oporto, Évora, and Guimarães also had Dominicans friaries, and the Order of Hermits of St Augustine was also present in Lisbon. Marado, ‘Sharing the City’. 36 

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A Century of Crisis During almost a hundred years, from the late thirteenth to the late fourteenth centuries, the order of Friars Minor established only one new house in Portugal (table  14.2), the Convento de São Francisco, which it founded in Loulé around 1328 (fig. 14.3, map 14.6).37 Although doubts remain as to the exact date of the founding of this friary, it is considered certain that it was already in existence when the custody of Évora Figure 14.3. The remains of the Franciscan friary, was created in 1330, breakLoulé, as seen in 1940. Source: DGPC, SIPA, ing away from the custody Igreja da Graça (IPA 00002822), FOTO.00174392. of Lisbon, as it is mentioned in the list of houses to be included in the new custody. This religious house, located in the country’s southernmost province, appears to be a late expression of the order’s expansion into the most remote areas of the Portuguese realm, which we have noted as having marked the phase between 1251 and 1275 (map 14.3). Thus, much like the Franciscan houses that were founded during this period, the Loulé friary was also located outside the town, near its walls. The edifice was built to the east of the walls, a short distance from the Sun Gate.38 In addition to the order’s limited growth over this period, the closure of a Franciscan house, the Convento de São Francisco in Torres Vedras is also worth noting.39 37  About this friary see Marado, Antigos Conventos do Algarve, pp. 123–27. This friary is not mentioned in Sousa, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal. 38  Later, following the suppression of Conventuals at the request of Cardinal D. Henrique in 1567, this house, as opposed to the remaining Conventual houses that integrated the Province of Observants, was handed over to the Order of Hermits of St Augustine, and was then called the Convento de Nossa Senhora da Graça. 39  By 1366 there was no longer any memory of the original edifice, which had been

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Map 14.6. Franciscan foundations in Portugal (1276–1375). Map by the author.

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This vista is easily understood given the difficult times the religious orders were experiencing from the late thirteenth century onwards, whether attributable to external influences or the consequence of internal questioning. The fourteenth century in particular was a period marked by a series of great political, economic, and social crises, with ramifications that resounded not only within Portugal but throughout Europe, and religious institutions were clearly in no way immune to this turbulence. First was the Western Schism, which divided the Roman Catholic Church, including the religious orders, as it obliged the faithful to align themselves either with the papacy in Rome or the papacy in Avignon.40 The second was the debate on stricter adherence to the monastic rules initiated by the proponents of Observance (Observância), a movement whose emergence created a rift within the religious orders, and especially within the order of Friars Minor.

established in about 1257. Sousa, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal, p. 279. The Franciscans returned to Torres Vedras in the fifteenth century, founding another house in 1470 (the Convento do Varatojo). 40  From 1382, whereas the Spanish custodies from the province of Santiago aligned themselves with the pope in Avignon, the three in Portugal (Lisbon, Coimbra, and Évora) remained faithful to the pope in Rome, and their own provincial leadership. The province was thus divided in two and had two provincial heads: the one in Santiago whose allegiance was to Avignon, and the other in Lisbon, whose allegiance was to Rome. Wars between Portugal and Castile (1384–85) served to accentuate this division and in 1421, a final, definitive separation took place, leading to an independent province of Portugal. Sousa, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal, p. 257.

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The Observant Impulse The notion of a stricter observance of the rule of St  Francis (Observância) entered the kingdom of Portugal towards the end of the fourteenth century with the arrival of two friars from the province of Santiago (Friar Diogo Árias and Friar Gonçalo Mariño). This group of religious, who would come to be known as Observants, gave rise to a new dynamism within the Franciscan order.41 Following a long period of stagnation, the last two decades of the fourteenth century saw the foundation of seven Franciscan friaries in continental Portugal (table 14.2). These were clustered in two smaller geo­graphic areas: in the mountainous region just north of Alenquer (where the early Franciscans had settled at the beginning of the thirteenth century) with houses founded in Asseiceira (1380) and Castanheira (1395), and in the northern lands bordering Galicia, namely in Valença, Vila Nova de Cerveira, Caminha, and Map 14.7. Franciscan foundations in Portugal Viana do Castelo, and nearby to the (1376–1400). Map by the author. south in Matosinhos, all established in 1392 (map 14.7). A more rigorous observance of the initial principles of the order, which this group endorsed, meant a return to greater isolation and a rejection of the urban world. In such a context, this branch of the order founded new houses in remote locations all over Europe,42 with the same pattern occurring in Portugal. The friaries that were founded at the end of the century, as well as many others 41  On the Observants in Portugal see Carvalho, ‘De l’Observance et des observances de l’Observance’. 42  See in the case of France, Le Gall, ‘Pour une carto­graphie des observances’.

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Figure 14.4. Franciscan friary, Viana do Castelo. Source: DGPC, SIPA, Convento de São Francisco do Monte (IPA.00003492), FOTO.00522791.

which appeared during the following century, were all situated in isolated areas at quite some distance from their respective urban population centres. Among these was a group of five houses founded by Friar Gonçalo Mariño and Friar Diogo Árias in 1392 located near urban centres in north-western Portugal: Valença, Vila Nova de Cerveira, Caminha, Viana do Castelo, and Matosinhos. In all of these, the Observants settled in small and isolated hermitages already existing in the surrounding rural territory. The house at Viana do Castelo, for example, was founded in an isolated area at the base of the Monte de Santa Luzia, 3 km to the north of the town with authorization coming from Pope Boniface IX.43 On 13 April 1392 this pope granted a licence to the friars for the founding of an oratory at this location, which would become part of the province of Santiago (fig. 14.4). The building was initially a small and humble building with a single cell and a chapel, and although over the next two centuries it underwent alterations, it maintained its designation as an oratory, later becoming a friary — Convento de São Franscico do Monte. As happened with most of its counterparts, this community of friars was transferred to a place nearer the city in 1612, but the building continued to function as an oratory. 43 

For more on this edifice, see Sousa, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal, p. 282.

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The Franciscan ‘Dilemma’ The growing number of Observants and the acceptance of Observance (Observância) within the Franciscan family occurred during the fifteenth century, but it was only in 1517 that this community came to constitute an autonomous body within the Franciscan order.44 Up to that point, the Friars Minor Conventual and the Observants had not always enjoyed a peaceful coexistence. According to Hervé Martin, this moment in the history of the Franciscans was marked by ‘a series of dilemmas’.45 As the two groups within the Franciscans held conflicting views on how strictly to adhere to the rule which determined their religious lives, this opposition played a determining role in their models for selecting locations. This became quite evident in the fifteenth century. Therefore, while the Conventuals increasingly identified themselves more with the world of the city, becoming ‘indispensable elements of urban life’,46 the Observants 44 

Map 14.8. Franciscan foundations in Portugal (1401–1500). Map by the author.

The Observants in Portugal began by organizing within an autonomous vicariate, most likely during the 1420s. In 1446, this vicariate, like its counterparts among the Observants, became subject to the General Observant vicariate. Finally in 1517, Pope Leo X decreed a division of the Order of Friars Minor, allowing for these two independent Franciscan bodies. In this same year, the province of Portugal was also split in two, between the Observants and the Conventuals. The latter was suppressed by papal brief in 1567, and their friaries were made part of the Observant province. Sousa, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal, pp. 257–58. Dicionário histórico das ordens, ed. by Franco and others, pp. 161–62. 45  Martin, Les ordres mendiants en Bretagne, p. 94. 46  Martin, Les ordres mendiants en Bretagne, p. 94.

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advocated a return to a more stringent adherence to poverty, humility, and retreat from society, which meant they sought more rural settings for their settlements. During the fifteenth century, the number of new Franciscan friaries established in Portugal remained stable (table 14.2) with the order founding twentythree houses throughout the country in a more or less uniform way (map 14.8). Even so, there were areas of greater concentration, primarily north of the Tagus River, with religious houses associated with smaller towns, namely, those north of Lisbon and Santarém,47 in the north-central interior,48 and in the Entre Douro e Minho region.49 Nevertheless, houses were also established along the border with Castile.50 Away from these areas of greater Franciscan activity, they established further houses, especially north of the Tagus River,51 and also returned to Lisbon to found another house near the city. This was the Convento de Santa Maria de Jesus de Xabregas, begun in 1455 by the Observants within the Royal Palace that King Afonso  V (1438–81) had bestowed upon the Countess of Atouguia, D.ª Guiomar de Castro, which was situated about 2 km to the east of Lisbon.52 The characteristics underlying the choice of location for the Franciscan houses founded during this century were quite distinct: if on the one hand the Observants chose to found houses in rural areas at a considerable distance from small towns53 or on the outskirts of larger cities such as Lisbon,54 the Conventuals opted to erect houses within urban zones, as in the example of the Convento de Nossa Senhora da Estrela (fig. 14.5). This friary was founded 47 

Refugidos (1408), Azambuja (1431), Atouguia da Baleia (1451), and Peniche (1452). Orgens (1407), Gouveia (1433), Meda (1443), Moimenta da Beira (1443), and Sernancelhe (1460). 49  Azurara (1424), Ponte de Lima (1480), and Franqueira (1497). 50  Marvão (1448), Serpa (1463), Campo Maior (1494). 51  Chaves (1421), Tentúgal (1437), and Penela (1448), but also to the south, in Setúbal (1410) and Montemor-o-Novo (1496). Regarding Penela, although some authors contend that this friary already existed in 1235 (Gomes, ‘As ordens mendicantes na Coimbra medi­eval’, p. 157) we accept the foundation date as the one mentioned by the Franciscan Order chronicles. 52  In 1532 this friary became the mother house of the Franciscan province of the Algarves, founded on that date, which included all of the houses south of the Tagus River and four more in the Estremadura province. Sousa, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal, pp. 313–14. 53  As in the example of the Convento de São Bernardino, founded in Atouguia da Baleia. Sousa, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal, p. 312. 54  As in the example of the Convento de Santa Maria de Jesus in Xabregas. 48 

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Figure 14.5. Franciscan friary, Marvão, as seen in 1943. Source: DGPC, SIPA, Convento de Nossa Senhora da Estrela / Santa Casa da Misericórdia de Marvão / Lar da Santa Casa da Misericórdia (IPA.00001859), FOTO.00167273.

in the year 1448 adjacent to the city walls of Marvão. According to the chroniclers of the order, this Franciscan friary was founded following authorization received from Pope Nicholas V in 1448.55 The construction of the church and the monastic complex was carried out with alms monies collected from the local population, and in 1550, the community obtained a licence from Pope Julius III to possess rents and properties. Finally, in 1568, within the context of the suppression of the Conventuals and the subsequent integration of all

55 

Soledad, Historia Seráfica da Ordem, iii, 53–59; Belém, Chronica Serafica da Santa Provincia dos Algarves, vi, 48–61.

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their houses by the Observants, this religious house adopted the rule of the Observants.56

Conclusion In addition to the influence of political, economic, and social conditions in Portugal from the thirteenth to the fifteenth centuries, the territorial and spatial dynamics of the order of Friars Minor in the country were directly related to the transformations in the religious lifestyle followed by the friars during this period. As has been demonstrated, during the final three centuries of the Middle Ages these transformations were defined by a shift between rural and urban settings; in other words, at different times, the Franciscans alternated between either establishing settlements in remote locations in the rural landscape or preferring urban centres where their presence would play a more prominent role in the social fabric of the most important cities and towns. Although in the early years the friars benefitted from royal support and directed their efforts more towards the most populated cities in the interest of expanding their call to preach, they nevertheless set up their houses in isolated areas, far from the urban world. Later, in a period of intense dynamism in terms of establishing new friaries in the thirteenth century, the order spread throughout Portugal, reaching even the most remote areas in the north and south. The process of clericalization which the order underwent at this time led them to settle in the cities where they built their own churches and friary complexes. Next came a long period of complete stagnation, marked by a general crisis which lasted practically throughout the entire fourteenth century. However, at the end of this century, the spiritual reforms begun by the Observants served as the incentive for the building of new houses; however, this movement signified a return to the precepts of the ways of early Franciscan life, which lead them to once again seek out remote places, this time associated with small and distant towns located in certain areas of Portugal. During the fifteenth century, the two groups within the order, the Conventuals and the Observants, developed separately, which brought about both stability in terms of the pace at which houses were being built and diversification with respect to the order’s relationship with the outside world. Whereas the Conventuals continued with their efforts, now with greater emphasis, to increase their presence in urban centres, the Observants, much to the contrary, sought out the isolation of rural areas. 56 

For more on this friary, see Sousa, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal, pp. 311–12.

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It must be noted that none of these major transformations came to any conclusion by the end of the fifteenth century. The beginning of the sixteenth century witnessed yet another spiritual reform of the Franciscans with the creation of the Strict Observance that defended a return to the stricter rules from the times of the Poverello. This obviously meant distancing themselves once again from the urban centres and a return to the rural setting, yet it also sparked an enormous increase in the number of new establishments being added to the Franciscan family.57 Thus, as we enter the early modern era, there came to be three groups within the order of Friars Minor, the Conventuals, the Observants, and the Strict Observance, who were distributed among a total of five provinces: the province of Portugal, the province of the Algarves, the province of Piedade, the province of Santo António, and the province of Arrábida. The last three provinces belonged to the latest Franciscan reform movement, known as the Capuchos, and later when faced with extraordinary growth, were subdivided into five provinces,58 and over the centuries spread throughout the whole of the Portuguese empire.

57  Just in the first quarter of the sixteenth century, approximately twenty Franciscan friaries were founded in continental Portugal. 58  The provinces of Piedade, Soledade, Santo António, Conceição, and Arrábida. Dicionário histórico das ordens, ed. by Franco and others, p. 162.

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Works Cited Primary Sources Armas, Duarte de, Livro das Fortalezas, Fac-simile do original de 1509: Ms. 159 da Casa Forte do Arquivo Nacional da Torre do Tombo, introduction by Manuel da Silva Castelo Branco (Lisbon: Arquivo Nacional da Torre do Tombo/Edições Inapa, 1990) Belém, Jerónimo de, Chronica Serafica da Santa Provincia dos Algarves da regular observancia do nosso serafico padre S. Francisco, em que se trata da sua origem, progressos, e fundações de seus conventos, 3 vols (Lisbon: Na Officina de Ignacio Rodrigues, 1750–58) Dicionário histórico das ordens, institutos religiosos e outras formas de vida consagrada católica em Portugal, ed. by José Eduardo Franco and others (Lisbon: Gradiva, 2010) Documentos Históricos da Cidade de Évora, ed. by Gabriel Pereira (Lisbon: Imprensa Nacional, 1998) Esperança, Manuel da, Historia Serafica da Ordem dos Frades Menores de S. Francisco na provincia de Portugal: Primeira parte, que contem seu principio, & augmentos no estado primeiro de Custodia, 2 vols (Lisbon: Officina Craesbeeckiana, 1656–66) Inventário das Ordens monástico/conventuais: Ordem de São Bento, Ordem do Carmo, Ordem dos Carmelitas descalços, Ordem dos Frades Menores, Ordem da Conceição de Maria, ed. by José Mattoso (Lisbon: Ministério da Cultura, Torre do Tombo, 2002) Soledad, Fernando da, Historia Serafica da Ordem dos Frades Menores de S. Francisco na provincia de Portugal, 3 vols (Lisbon: Na Officina de Manoel & Joseph Lopes Ferreyra, 1705–21) SIPA — Sistema de Informação para o Património Arquitectónico, DGPC [accessed 21 January 2016]

Secondary Works Beirante, Maria Ângela Rocha, Évora na Idade Média (Coimbra: Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian, 1995) Bilou, Francisco, A igreja de S. Francisco e o Paço Real de Évora: A obra e os protagonistas 500 anos depois (Lisbon: Edições Colibri, 2014) Branco, Manuel J. C., ‘Evolução do sítio do século XIII ao século XIX’, Monumentos, 17 (2002), 9–17 Carvalho, José Adriano, ‘De l’Observance et des observances de l’Observance à la plénitude de l’Observance au Portugal’, in Identités franciscaines à l’âge des reformes, ed. by Frédéric Meyer and Ludovic Viallet (Clermont-Ferrand: Presses Universitaire Blaise Pascal, 2005), pp. 143–64 Carvalho, Afonso de, Da Toponímia de Évora: Dos meados do século XII a finais do século XIV (Lisbon: Edições Colibri, 2004) Cuadrado Sanchez, Marta, ‘Un Nuevo marco socioespacial: Emplazamiento de los conventos mendicantes en el plano urbano’, in Espiritualidad, franciscanismo: VI Semana de Estudios Medi­evales (Nájera: Logroño Instituto de Estudios Riojanos, 1996), pp. 101–10

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Fernandes, Maria, ‘A Igreja e a Galeria das Damas: O que resta de um paço Real’, Revista semestral de edifícios e monumentos, 17 (2002), 89–95 Godet-Calogeras, Jean François, ‘Illi qui volunt religiose stare in eremis: Eremitical Practice in the Life of the Early Franciscans’, in Franciscans at Prayer, ed. by Timothy J. Johnson (Leiden: Brill, 2007), pp. 305–32 Gomes, Saul António, ‘As Ordens Mendicantes na Coimbra Medi­eval: Tópicos e Docu­ mentos’, Lusitania Sacra, n.s. (1998), 149–215 —— , ‘800 anos de presença franciscana em Portugal’, Itinerarium, 64 (2018), 17–38 Lawrence, Clifford H., The Friars: The Impact of the Mendicant Orders on Medi­eval Society (London: Tauris, 2013) Le Gall, Jean-Marie, ‘Pour une carto­graphie des observances. Bilan provisoire’, in Identités franciscaines à l’âge des reformes, ed. by Frédéric Meyer and Ludovic Viallet (ClermontFerrand: Presses Universitaire Blaise Pascal, 2005), pp. 211–35 Les Ordres Mendiants et la ville en Italie centrale (v.1220–v.1350), Actes de la table ronde, Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome: Moyen Âge-Temps Modernes, 89 (1977), 555–773 Marado, Catarina Almeida, Antigos Conventos do Algarve: Um percurso pelo património da região (Lisbon: Edições Colibri, 2006) —— , ‘Sharing the City: The Establishment of Mendicant Houses in Portuguese Medi­eval Towns’, The Journal of Medi­eval Monastic Studies, 4 (2015), 47–77 —— , Arquitetura conventual e cidade medi­eval: A formação e os impactos dos sistemas urbaní­sticos mendicantes em Portugal, séc. XIII-XV (Coimbra: Imprensa da Universi­ dade de Coimbra, 2018) Martin, Hervé, Les ordres mendiants en Bretagne, vers 1230–vers 1530 (Paris: Klincksieck, 1975) Mattoso, José, ‘O enquadramento social e económico das primeiras fundações franciscanas’, in Obras Completas, viii: Portugal Medi­eval: Novas interpretações (Lisbon: Círculo dos Leitores, 2002), pp. 243–54 Pellegrini, Luigi, ‘Insediamenti rurali e insediamenti urbani dei Francescani nell’italia del secolo XIII’, Miscellanea Francescana, 75 (1975), 197–210 —— , ‘Gli insediamenti degli ordini mendicanti a al loro tipo­logia. Considerazioni metodo­logiche e piste di ricerca’, Les Ordres Mendiants et la ville en Italie centrale (v.1220–v.1350), Actes de la table ronde, Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome: Moyen Âge–Temps Modernes, 89 (1977), 563–73 Robson, Michael, The Franciscans in the Middle Ages (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2006) Robson, Michael, and Jens Röhrkasten, eds, Franciscan Organisation in the Mendicant Context: Formal and Informal Structures of the Friars’ Lives and Ministry in the Middle Ages (Berlin: Lit, 2010) Rossa, Walter, ‘Ensaio sobre a itinerância da capitalidade em Portugal’, in Cortes, cidades, memórias: Trânsitos e transformações na modernidade, ed.  by Douglas Cole Libby (Belo Horizonte: Centro de Estudos Mineiros, 2010), pp. 10–23 Sousa, Bernardo Vasconcelos, ed., Ordens religiosas em Portugal das origens a Trento: Guia histórico (Lisbon: Livros Horizonte, 2005)

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Val-Flores, Gustavo Silva, ‘O Paço Real de Évora: Apogeu e Declínio de um Espaço Régio’ (unpublished doctoral thesis, Universidade Évora, 2009) Volti, Panayota, Les couvents des ordres mendiants et leur environnement à la fin du Moyen Age: Le nord de la France et les anciens Pays-Bas septentrionaux (Paris: CNRS Éditions, 2003)

Ordo Sancti Pauli Primi Eremitae: Monasteries and the Shaping of the ­ val Slavonian Cultural Late Medie and Historic Landscape prior to the Battle of Mohács (1526) Tajana Pleše

F

rom the mid-thirteenth century the Pauline order (Ordo Sancti Pauli Primi Eremitae) spread through Regnum Hungariae, and prior to the Battle of Mohács in 1526, it founded ten monasteries in Slavonia. The objective of this paper is to provide a comparative analysis of spatial organization of late medi­eval Pauline monasteries, based on the results of archaeo­logical excavations, and to analyse the significant role they played in shaping the historical, political, and spatial landscape of late medi­eval Slavonia.

Current Knowledge on Pauline Monasteries in Late Medi­eval Slavonia The history of late medi­eval Pauline monasteries in the north-western part of present-day Croatia, that formed part of late medi­e val Slavonia, is symbolically defined by the political and economic turmoil that occurred in 1242 and again in 1526. Mongol raids in 1242, and the much-needed reforms that followed during the reign of king Béla IV (1235–70), enabled the initial spatial expansion of the newly constituted Pauline order (Ordo Sancti Pauli Primi Eremitae). By the time of the Battle of Mohács against the Ottoman Empire in 1526, a three-centuries-long period of expansion and growth of the order had ended. During the second half of the sixteenth century, the fate of the Tajana Pleše ([email protected]) is Director of the Croatian Conservation Institute, specializing in late medi­eval architecture (castles, forts, and Pauline and Benedictine monasteries). Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 383–403 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117271

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existing monasteries varied. Those that retained their original sacral function were either transformed into Baroque-style buildings during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, or were remodelled for use by other confessions. The advantageous locations of several monasteries caused a change in their use to secular or military functions, while some of them were abandoned and quarried out during the following centuries to the point of complete disappearance from the cultural landscape of late medi­eval Slavonia. Until the Treaty of Sistova in 1791, the north-western region of present-day Croatia lay within a territory directly influenced by conflicts with the Ottoman Empire. The current limited knowledge of late medi­eval Slavonian Pauline monasteries can be attributed to several factors: the suppression of monasteries that culminated in the dissolution of the order in 1786, the change of population in areas surrounding the former monasteries to communities that had no relation or connection with the early Pauline heritage, the destruction of monastic archives due to fire or loss, and the language barrier as most archival material was handled in Hungarian. The first two factors were crucial in the eradication of any memory and identity of the Pauline order from late medi­eval Slavonia. In an effort to redress this lack of information, the Croatian Conservation Institute initiated the interdisciplinary project entitled ‘Slavonian Pauline Monasteries Founded prior to the Battle of Mohács (1526)’. Eight monasteries — Moslavina Mountain, Remete, Zlat, Streza, Šenkovec, Lepoglava, Kamensko, Donja Vrijeska — have been identified and partially examined, while our information about two monasteries, Dubica and Bakva, is still based on archival data only.

Cultural and Historic Landscapes of Late Medi­eval Slavonia The turbulent period of the mid-thirteenth century was also a time when groups of hermits emerged simultaneously but disparately in Regnum Hungariae. The order of St Paul the First Hermit was founded by the merging of two hermit communities from Patacs and Pilis into one coherent community around 1250 under the leadership of Provincial Eusebius. According to Pauline chroniclers, King Béla IV was very supportive of the newly founded ‘domestic’ order, and as he encouraged its expansion with numerous endowments and benefactions, his example was soon followed by many noble families. As a result, within a short period the Pauline monasteries of Dubica, Moslavina Mountain, and Remete in Slavonia were founded and quickly started to play a significant role as autonomous units in the recovery of a depressed economy. By the time the order had received papal approval from Legate Gentilis in 1308, two more monasteries

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were founded in Slavonia, namely, Bakva and Zlat.1 The order continued to flourish under King Louis I of Hungary (king of Hungary and Croatia, 1342– 82), when two further monasteries were established in Streza and Šenkovec. The first indications of political instability surfaced during the reign of King Sigismund of Luxemburg (king of Hungary and Croatia, 1387–1437), presaging the grim sequence of events that would mark the turbulent centuries that followed. Despite this situation, Sigismund’s reign was beneficial to the order, as it continued to grow unhindered.2 At the start of the fifteenth century, the last three medi­eval monasteries founded on the territory of late medi­eval Slavonia prior to 1526 were in Lepoglava, Kamensko, and Dobra Kuća. In spite of growing political instability during the reigns of King Sigismund’s heirs, Pauline monasteries in Slavonia continued to flourish.3 However, because of the pending peril of Ottoman attacks, the Paulines directed their expansion of the order west towards Primorje and Istria with the help of powerful Frankopan counts. The fall of Constantinople in 1453 dramatically altered the political situation, and the territory of present-day Croatia became the first line of defence of the kingdom and the wider European sphere. ‘Good King’ Matthias Corvinus (king of Hungary and Croatia, 1458–90) continued with the Crown’s benevolent policy towards the favoured ‘domestic’ order.4 During his reign almost all Slavonian monasteries endured attacks and devastations by Ottoman troops, but they were quickly renovated. Around the time of the Battle of Mohács,5 the 1 

Eggerer, Fragmen panis, pp. 6–12, 18–43, 65–118; Orosz, Synopsis annalium, pp. 30–49, 347–49, 360–401; Smičiklas, Poviest Hrvatska, pp. 345–51, 374–97, 539–40; Šanjek, Crkva i kršćanstvo u Hrvata, pp. 468–506; Klaić, Povijest Hrvata u razvijenom, pp. 319–29, 504–09, 514–21; Dubois, Monaški redovi, pp. 8, 17–19; Franzen, Pregled povijesti crkve, pp. 87–88, 175–76; Fülöpp Romhányi, ‘Die Pauliner’, pp. 143–56; Budak and Raukar, Hrvatska povijest, pp. 175–76, 183, 186–90. 2  Eggerer, Fragmen panis, pp.  132, 272, 349; Orosz, Synopsis annalium, pp.  349–51; Smičiklas, Poviest Hrvatska, pp. 398–499; Klaić, Povijest Hrvata u razvijenom, pp. 509–13, 523–43, 654–61; Inalcik, Osmansko carstvo, pp. 10–20; Budak and Raukar, Hrvatska povijest, pp. 190–95, 200–01, 274, 275; Raukar, Hrvatsko srednjovjekovlje, pp. 389–91. 3  Smičiklas, Poviest Hrvatska, pp. 586–615; Inalcik, Osmansko carstvo, pp. 27–31; Budak and Raukar, Hrvatska povijest, pp. 276–77. 4  Eggerer, Fragmen panis, pp. 237–39, 246, 319; Orosz, Synopsis annalium, pp. 339–47; Smičiklas, Poviest Hrvatska, pp. 615–68; Jurković, ‘Turska opasnost’, pp. 64–70; Grgin, Počeci rasapa, pp. 5–12; Inalcik, Osmansko carstvo, pp. 27–31, 34–38; Budak and Raukar, Hrvatska povijest, pp. 278–81. 5  Smičiklas, Poviest Hrvatska, pp. 668–724; Jurković, ‘Turska opasnost’, pp. 71–75; Inalcik, Osmansko carstvo, pp. 39–42; Budak and Raukar, Hrvatska povijest, pp. 279–82, 290–95.

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Paulines began to abandon their estates in endangered territories and moved to safer, and probably fortified, monasteries in Remete, Šenkovec, and Lepoglava. Abandoned monasteries in Dubica, Moslavina Mountain, Bakva, Zlat, Streza, Kamensko, and Dobra Kuća were destroyed by the mid-sixteenth century, and with the exception of Kamensko they never returned to any of them.

Brief History of Pauline Monasteries after 1526 The earliest Slavonian monasteries of the Pauline order have completely disappeared from the cultural landscape. The first Pauline monastery in late medi­eval Slavonia, and also the first one founded after the initial expansion of the order beyond the borders of the parent monastery in Patacs, was dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary and located in Dubica (present-day Bosanska-Dubica).6 The foundation, supported by Coloman, duke of Slavonia, was triggered by the complex religious and political situation within the Bosnian Church (Crkva bosanska).7 The exact date of the foundation remains uncertain: according to Pauline chroniclers, the monastery was founded in 1244, but modern historio­ graphy strongly disagrees with that date, and it is suggested that the foundation was closer to the end of the thirteenth century.8 Due to strongly expressed disagreements with the local authorities and inhabitants, the Dubica monks were not very popular. Nevertheless, the monastery continued to exist until the raids by Ottoman troops between 1435 and 1450, when the monks abandoned the monastery. Although the Paulines returned to Dubica around 1460, they finally left for good in 1465.9 Information on the Dubica monastery is solely based on historical accounts. The monastery of St Benedict in Bakva, near present-day Špišić Bukovica,10 was founded by the endowment of the nobleman Salamon in 1301. It was 6 

The archives of Dubica monastery (Acta Monast. Dubicense) encompass the period from 1244 (i.e. 1270) to 1461 (i.e. 1465). 7  Mužić, Vjera Crkve bosanske, pp. 7–27. 8  Fülöpp Romhányi, Kolostorok, p. 26. 9  Eggerer, Fragmen panis, p. 184; Benger, Chronotaxis, pp. 28–30; Ioannes Kristolovec, Descriptio, pp.  105a–06a; Orosz, Synopsis annalium, p.  390; Smičiklas, Poviest Hrvatska, pp. 541–48; Dočkal, Samostan BDM u Dubici, pp. 88–90, 95–96; Klaić, Povijest Hrvata u ranom, pp. 461–63; Šanjek, Crkva i kršćanstvo u Hrvata, pp. 317–22, 392–93; Raukar, Hrvatsko srednjovjekovlje, p. 302; Budak and Raukar, Hrvatska povijest, pp. 198, 271; Mužić, Vjera Crkve bosanske, pp. 7–27. 10  The archives of Bakva monastery (Acta Monast. de Bakva) encompass the period from 1301 to 1531 (fifty preserved documents).

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raided by Ottoman troops between 1491 and 1494, and was subsequently renovated with donations from local nobility. However, the Paulines abandoned the monastery and fled to a safer location at Lepoglava between 1531 and 1552. Afterwards, the abandoned monastery was reused for military purposes.11 In the case of these two monasteries, not even their names are preserved in the local toponomy, and searches for their location have failed to date. Despite being abandoned, the two late medi­e val Pauline monasteries at Moslavina Mountain12 and in Streza13 left sufficient traces to allow their locations to be identified. The monastery of the Blessed Virgin Mary at Moslavina Mountain was founded during the second half of the thirteenth century by the endowment of a certain magister Tiburcius.14 During the next few centuries this monastery gained significant political influence because of its strong economic base. The Paulines managed to gain many privileges for this monastery which assured that it maintained the status of a locus credibilis (worthy place). It is assumed that the Paulines abandoned Moslavina Mountain monastery, and never returned, due to the impending peril of Ottoman incursions between 1520 and 1544. 15 Consequently, the monastery was left to deteriorate and became overgrown in thick vegetation. The remoteness of the location was the main reason that it was not quarried out for building materials, and thus was preserved, albeit in a ruinous state. The Pauline monastery of All Saints in Streza, near present-day Bjelovar, was founded in 1374 by the endowment of magister John Bisen, a castellan of Bijela Stijena.16 In less than two centuries, due to numerous endowments and privileges, the monastery became one of the most prosperous Pauline monasteries in Slavonia. The economic and legal organization of the monastery 11  Eggerer, Fragmen panis, pp. 97, 185; Kristolovec, Descriptio, p. 128; Orosz, Synopsis annalium, p. 388; Dočkal, Povijest pavlinskog samostana, pp. 7–10, 53, 76–77. 12  Archaeo­logical excavations and conservation and restoration works, led by T. Pleše (Department for Archaeo­logy, Croatian Conservation Institute; further in text: CCI), began in 2009. 13  Archaeo­logical excavations of Streza monastery, led by T. Pleše (CCI) began in 2006. Pleše and Karlo, ‘Monasterium omnium sanctorum’; Pleše, ‘Bulla plumbea’. 14  Archives of Moslavina Mountain monastery (Acta Monast. de Garig) encompass the period from 1257 to 1520 (i.e. 1745) (548 preserved documents). 15  Eggerer, Fragmen panis, p. 90; Benger, Chronotaxis, pp. 20–21; Kristolovec, Descriptio, p. 127; Orosz, Synopsis annalium, p. 388; Pisk, Pavlinski samostan Blažene Djevice Marije na Gariću. 16  Archives of Streza monastery (Acta Monast. de Ztreza) encompass the period from 1366 to 1547 (203 preserved documents).

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of Streza is well known due to the two urbaria (registers of land ownership) (‘Registrum super universis possessionibus claustri fratrum Heremitarum de Ztreza, quod registrum scribi fecit venerabilis pater Paulus prior prescriptorum fratrum Heremitarum de dicta Ztreza’: Register of all the enclosed possessions of the hermit brothers of Streza, which register the venerable Fr Paul, prior of above hermits of said Streza wrote), compiled between 1432 and 1477. Under the pressure of the increasing possibility of Ottoman intrusion, the Paulines decided to abandon Streza, and relocate to the safety of Lepoglava. The abandoned monastery was taken over by grenzers from Varaždin Generalate, who maintained it as a defensive post at least until 1540.17 Subsequently monastery buildings at Streza became the main source of construction material for the inhabitants of nearby settlements. After most of the building material was quarried out, the whole area of Streza monastery was used as arable land, and finally ended up completely overgrown by shrubbery. The geomorpho­logic characteristics of the three Pauline monasteries at Bakva, Streza, and Zlat made them suitable for military use.18 Information on the military use of these three monasteries can be derived from different types of evidence for each monastery: in Streza it is based on material finds, in Bakva on the archival data, while in Zlat the secular use can be noted in its architecture as well as in the archival data and material finds discussed here. The monastery of St Peter on the Mountain of St Peter (Zlat, Petrovac, Patur Gozdia) was founded in 1303/04 by a certain Father Gerdas (Grdoš).19 According to Pauline chroniclers, Zlat was raided in 1396 during the Regnum Hungariae dynastic struggles and the monastery was devastated once more by Ottoman troops in the middle of the fifteenth century, when the monks fled to a safer location in Kamensko. Following that raid, the Paulines from Zlat and Kamensko sent a request to Pope Nicolas V in 1451 for the permanent and legal consolidation of their estates. Pope Nicolas V agreed to their request and the Paulines returned to Zlat in the last decades of the fifteenth century. 17 

Eggerer, Fragmen panis, p. 155; Benger, Chronotaxis, pp. 39–40; Kristolovec, Descriptio, pp. 126–27; Orosz, Synopsis annalium, p. 388; Dočkal, Samostan Svih svetih, pp. 72–77, 170–98, 250; Adamček, ‘Pavlini i njihovi feudalni posjedi’, pp. 44–45; Kolar Dimitrijević, ‘Urbar pavlinskog samostana’. 18  Archaeo­logical excavations in 1987 and 1988 were led by M. Kruhek (Croatian History Museum), and those in 2006 and 2007 by T. Pleše (CCI). Kruhek, ‘Samostan sv. Petra’; Pleše, ‘Monasterium de S. Petri’. 19  The archives of Zlat monastery (Acta Monast. de Szlat) encompass the period from 1278 to 1523.

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However, they abandoned Zlat by the middle of the sixteenth century due to the increasing danger posed by Ottoman troops, and the monks sought refuge once more in Kamensko monastery.20 The abandoned Pauline monastery at Zlat subsequently became a military fortification. Petrovac, the name given to Zlat since then, was soon abandoned, and in 1584 it fell under Ottoman rule. After movement of the demarcation line to the Una River in 1654, the site of Zlat monastery regained its defensive function, and maintained it until the Treaty of Sistova in 1791.21 It may be concluded that after the arrival of the grenzers, one of the largest chardaks or watchtowers in the locality was constructed on the nave of the monastic church.22 Among many social changes that followed the 1791 Treaty of Sistova, a very significant one was a shift in the character of the local population with the relocation of former soldiers, mainly of Eastern Orthodox confession, to the abandoned estates of the former late medi­eval Pauline monasteries at Zlat and Dobra Kuća.23 The monastery at Zlat was remodelled at the beginning of the nineteenth century, when the Orthodox Church of the Descent of the Holy Spirit was erected on the foundations of the chancel of the Pauline church, with a rectangular bell tower positioned at the eastern end of the southern facade. Similar changes also effected the last Pauline monastery established in the territory of late medi­e val Slavonia prior to the Battle of Mohács, namely, the monastery of St Anna in Dobra Kuća, near present-day Daruvar.24 It was founded in 1412 by the endowment of Count Benedict Nelepac (1396–1442). The monastery was devastated during the Ottoman occupation of Slavonia between 1537 and 1542.25 The abandoned Pauline monastery became the prop20 

Eggerer, Fragmen panis, p. 178; Benger, Chronotaxis, pp. 39–41; Kristolovec, Descriptio, pp. 123–24; Orosz, Synopsis annalium, pp. 388–89; Dočkal, Samostan sv. Petra, pp. 4, 9–13; Lopašić, Oko Kupe i Korane, pp. 224–26. 21  Lopašić, Oko Kupe, pp.  227–28; Dočkal, Samostan sv. Petra, pp.  22–23; Kruhek, Krajiške utvrde i obrana, pp. 36, 127, 180, 192, 221, 225, 247, 253, 257, 283–84, 325; Fras, Topografija Karlovačke vojne krajine, p. 226; Budak, Hrvatska i Slavonija, p. 61. 22  The appearance of the former Zlat monastery church was recorded in its new military function in two depictions: in the ground plan of the military engineer J. F. Hollstein (1717) and in the sketch by the territorial supervisory engineer M. A. Weiss (1729). 23  Archaeo­logical excavations of the Dobra Kuća monastery are being led by G. Jakovljević (Bjelovar City Museum). 24  The archives of Dobra Kuća monastery (Acta Monast. de Dobra Kucha) encompass the period from 1275 (i.e. 1412) to 1510 (forty-eight preserved documents). 25  Eggerer, Fragmen panis, p. 184; Benger, Chronotaxis, p. 28; Kristolovec, Descriptio, p. 127a;

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erty of Eastern Orthodox monks from Pakra in 1736, and later on it belonged to the rectory in Bastaji. The church, the only remaining part of the monastery, was poorly maintained and was used as a stable, but was renovated in 1861 in Historicist style. The Dobra Kuća monastery is owned today by the Slavonian Diocese of the Serbian Orthodox Church. The last group of monasteries to be discussed comprises those monasteries whose original, spatial organization was transformed during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries into the Baroque style. These include the monasteries in Remete,26 Šenkovec,27 Lepoglava,28 and Kamensko.29 The monastery of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Remete,30 situated in a valley on the southern foothills of Medvednica Mountain near Zagreb, was founded during the last quarter of the thirteenth century. The strength of the monastery grew rapidly due to numerous privileges and endowments from both eminent and local nobility. By 1390, the monastery of Remete had been promoted to the status of vicariate. The monastery was devastated for the first time in a great fire in 1394, and less than a century later during the Ottoman raids in 1484.

Orosz, Synopsis annalium, p. 389; Dočkal, Samostan sv. Ane, pp. 1–3, 53–54; Damjanović, ‘Historicističke obnove’. 26  Archaeo­logical research (2007–09) was led by B. Mašić (Zagreb City Museum) and T. Pleše (CCI). Mašić and Pleše, ‘On the Group Find’; ‘On Unstable Foundations’. 27  The first archaeo­logical excavations (led by E. Laszowski) of the monastic church and chapel of St Anthony (also known as the mausoleum of Zrinski Counts) were carried out in 1924. Laszowski, ‘Zrinski mauzolej’, pp. 246–47, 257–59. Systematic archaeo­logical research of the whole monastery was conducted in 1989, 1990–99, and in 2002 (led by J. Vidović, Museum of Međimurje Čakovec). Vidović, ‘Sveta Jelena, Šenkovec’. To supplement our knowledge of the late medi­eval construction phase of the monastery, exploratory archaeo­logical excavations of the presumed cloister and southern part of the eastern wing were conducted in 2011 and 2012 (led by T. Pleše, CCI). 28  The first archaeo­logical excavations (1972–74) of the accessible parts of the church and Baroque courtyard were conducted by Státní ústav pro rekonstrukce památkových mĕst a objektů v Praze. Small-scale archaeo­logical research (1991–93) of the ground-level of the southern wing of the former monastery was led by Z. Balog. Balog, ‘Arheološka istraživanja’, pp. 21–46. Exploratory archaeo­logical excavations (2003–04) in the Baroque courtyard were led by T. Pleše (CCI). Pleše, ‘Arheološka istraživanja’. 29  Archaeo­logical excavations were conducted from 1997 to 2000 (led by D. Perkić, Ministry of Culture of Republic of Croatia), and in 2005 and 2006 (led by A. Azinović Bebek, CCI). Azinović Bebek, ‘Kamensko’. 30  The archives of Remete monastery (Acta Conv. de Remethe) encompass the period from 1288 to 1786.

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The later damage was repaired by order of King Matthias Corvinus in 1485. Remete was attacked twice more, in 1557 and 1591, by Ottoman troops. Despite these attacks, the Pauline monks never abandoned the monastery. It was thoroughly restored on several occasions during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The current appearance of the church is the result of renovations after the disastrous earthquake of 1880, while the monastic complex assumed its most recent form during the conservation and restoration works completed at the end of the twentieth century.31 The monastery of the Blessed Virgin Mary and All Saints in Šenkovec, near Čakovec, was founded in 1376 by the endowment of Stephen II Lackfy, duke of Transylvania, and Magister Stephen.32 The Paulines from Šenkovec managed to expand their initial estate and strengthen their economic influence with many endowments and privileges during the first two centuries of their existence. The late medi­eval monastery was significantly remodelled during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and it remained in use until the dissolution of the order in 1786. Afterwards, the monastery was transformed into a private residence of the Knežević family who remodelled the chancel of monastic church into a family chapel, and later it was used for economic purposes by Count Feštetić. The only remaining part of the medi­eval monastery located to the south-west was devastated by the earthquake of 1880.33 The monastery of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Lepoglava was founded in 1400 by the endowment of Herman II, count of Celje and banus (highest state official in late medi­e val Croatia, Slavonia, Bosnia, and parts of Hungary) of Slavonia, Croatia, and Dalmatia. 34 Lepoglava monastery was destroyed in 1479–81 by Ottoman troops. A decade later the reconstruction of the monas31 

Eggerer, Fragmen panis, pp. 84, 297, 313, 349, 361; Kristolovec, Descriptio, pp. 106a– 09a; Orosz, Synopsis annalium, p. 388; Smičiklas, Poviest Hrvatska, pp. 539–40; Barlè, Remete, pp. 7, 10, 13, 25, 28, 33, 43, 48, 56; Dočkal, Samostan BDM u Remetama, pp. 5–7, 14–16, 96–99, 108, 195–99, 208–09, 305, 339–41, 644–80, 692–97; Sekulić, Remete, pp. 25–32, 39–50, 62–71, 89, 108–09. 32  Archives of Šenkovec monastery (Acta Conv. Chaktornyensis) encompass the period from 1376 to 1786. 33  Eggerer, Fragmen panis, pp. 155–56; Benger, Chronotaxis, pp. 21–24; Ioannes Kristolovec, Descriptio, pp. 109a, 111; Bedeković, Natale solum, pp. 271, 272, 276, 278; Laszowski, ‘Zrinski mauzolej’, pp. 244, 248–56; Dočkal, Povijest pavlinskog samostana sv. Jelene, pp. 1–7, 96–98, 121–22, 197. 34  Archives of Lepoglava monastery (Acta Monast. de Lepoglava) encompass the period from 1443 to 1786 (2856 preserved documents).

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tery was finished under the patronage of Duke John Corvinus. From its foundation until the end of the sixteenth century, the Paulines worked diligently to strengthen the economy of Lepoglava monastery: by 1576, when the monastery became the seat of the Generalate, the monks had managed to acquire many privileges and several significant endowments, especially from the powerful counts of Celje and John Corvinus. Lepoglava monastery was devastated once again during the Ottoman attack in the 1640s. The late medi­eval monastery was completely demolished during construction of the new and grander monastery built in the second half of the seventeenth century. After the dissolution of the order, Lepoglava monastery became a jail for Ottoman prisoners, then a military hospital, and finally an infamous penitentiary which was housed there until 2000. The heaviest devastation of the monastery occurred in 1945 as a result of an ammunition explosion.35 The monastery of Our Lady of the Snow in Kamensko, near Karlovac, was founded in 1404 by the endowment of Catherine of Krk, countess of Ptuj and Metlika.36 The monastery was devastated during the attack of Ottoman troops between 1480 and 1484, and again between 1570 and 1576. After the second Ottoman raid, it was partially quarried out for the construction of Karlovac fortification, while the remaining part was used for military purposes. During the middle of the eighteenth century Kamensko monastery was renovated in the Baroque style. After the dissolution of the order, the monastery became the parish church of St Jacob.37 Although it was almost completely demolished, Kamensko monastery was renovated during the mid-twentieth century, only to be destroyed again during the Croatian War of Independence (1991/95). The third renovation of Kamensko was undertaken between 1996 and 2007 and today it is the seat of the Croatian province of the OSPPE (Ordo Fratrum Sancti Pauli Primi Eremitae).

35  Eggerer, Fragmen panis, p. 250; Kristolovec, Liber memorabilium, pp. 27–28; Dočkal, Povijest pavlinskog samostana BDM u Lepoglavi, pp. 41–48, 155–63, 196–202. 36  The archives of Kamensko monastery (Acta Monast. de Kamenzko) encompass the period from 1261 to 1770. 37  Eggerer, Fragmen panis, p. 181; Kristolovec, Descriptio, pp. 122a–23a; Orosz, Synopsis annalium, p. 389; Lopašić, Oko Kupe, 138–40; Dočkal, Samostan Majke Božje Snježne, pp. 69, 100–06, 123–24.

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Archaeo­logical and Landscape Perspectives The following remarks are based on the archaeo­logical research conducted on the late medi­e val Pauline monasteries in Slavonia thus far, and in particular, on their locations, founders and benefactors, estates, patron saints, and general spatial organization. The location of late medi­e val Pauline monasteries in the Slavonian landscape can be clearly described through the Latin maxim, ‘Paulus amat valles, colles [or montes] Benedictus amabat, oppida Franciscus, celebres [or magnas] Ignatius urbes’ (Paul loved valleys, Benedict hills [or mountains], Francis towns, Ignatius famous [or big] cities). Despite the role played by the Pauline order in the political and economic context of Regnum Hungariae, their monasteries were located in secluded places, set some distance away from urban centres. During the first two centuries of the order’s existence, the Paulines chose locations closer to the Benedictine ideal of mountain ravines (Moslavina Mountain), slopes (Remete, probably Dubica and Bakva), or plateaus (Zlat). From the end of the fourteenth century, however, monasteries were built in pleasant valleys defined by streams or rivers (Streza, Kamensko, Lepoglava, Šenkovec, Dobra Kuća). The choice of locations that offered natural protection such as mountain tops or valley plateaus surrounded by streams and/or rivers provided the Paulines with much-desired safety. This is evident at Moslavina Mountain, Zlat, and Streza. In some cases, defence systems needed to be constructed as at Remete and Lepoglava and perhaps Šenkovec and Kamensko. The majority of the late medi­eval Pauline monasteries were dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary, including Dubica, Moslavina Mountain, Remete, Lepoglava, and in Šenkovec along with the dedication to All Saints, or Our Lady of the Snow at Kamensko. There were several exceptions: St Peter (Zlat), St Benedict (Bakva), All Saints (Streza), and St Anna (Dobra Kuća). Since the written sources do not provide the reasons for a particular dedication, it can be assumed that the saint was chosen by a benefactor or a prior to reflect their own particular devotion. All Slavonian Pauline monasteries were founded on endowed lands, the only possible exception being the monastery at Zlat. Included among founders and benefactors were kings and royal families, both upper level and local nobility as well as powerful politicians and important members of the clergy.38 There 38 

For details on benefactors and estates see: Mályusz, ‘A szlavoniai és horvátországi orok’, (no.  8) pp.  65–69 Dubica; (no.  9) pp.  284–512, (no.  10) pp.  92–123, 256–86, (no. 11) pp. 58–92, (no. 12) pp. 111–54, (no. 13) pp. 233–65 Moslavina Mountain; (no. 5) pp. 136–209 Remete; (no. 3) pp. 100–20 Bakva; (no. 6) pp. 194–203 Zlat; (no. 6) pp. 87–177

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were two exceptions, namely, the monasteries of Dubica and Zlat. Both of them had only a few benefactors, all being local citizens and noblemen. The reasons for lesser patronage of these monasteries were probably linked to conflicts with the local community in Dubica, and to the quite remote and insecure location of Zlat. Archival sources, especially last wills and testaments, testify that many benefactors expressed their wish to be buried in a monastic church, with the exceptions of Dubica, Zlat, and Bakva. Due to the near-destruction of all late medi­eval Pauline monasteries, the tombs of the founders and benefactors do not survive. The only exception is a tombstone of Sofia Kaštelanović (née Tulbertov di Prata), found in the chancel of the monastic church in Moslavina Mountain. The Slavonian late medi­eval Pauline monasteries were largely self-sufficient, and their economy relied on a sustainable system of land use based on arable land, estates, serf estates, vineyards, fishponds, mills, woods, meadows, and occasionally a town house or a village property. Most of the lands were donations or endowments, while some were granted by the Paulines themselves from their own assets. Except for Dubica and Zlat, all other monasteries were rather wealthy within a Slavonian context. Moslavina Mountains monastery possessed around fifteen estates, three serf estates, two curiae, eight vineyards, one fishpond, and three mills. Remete had around twenty estates, a tower and a city house, two vineyards, and one mill. Streza owned around seven estates, twentyseven serf estates, one village, two curiae, two vineyards, three mills, 310 acres, one forest, and one meadow. Furthermore, most of the monasteries, except for Dubica and Zlat, gained privileges, as well as the status of locus credibilis. Unlike the abundance of surviving archival material relating to legal affairs (endowments, last wills and testaments, lawsuits, and privileges), documents relating to the physical aspects of the Pauline monasteries barely exist. There are no ground plans or descriptions of architecture, no receipts or work contracts, and only some titular dedications of altars are mentioned in endowments. Bearing in mind the lack of information on the late medi­e val architecture of the Pauline monasteries, conclusions have to be drawn within these constraints. Many other questions will only be answered through further excavations. Of the eight Slavonian monasteries, excluding the ‘lost’ ones in Dubica and Bakva, late medi­eval building phases can be discerned either in untransformed spaces Streza; (no. 3) pp. 100–86 Lepoglava; (no. 8) pp. 70–87 Kamensko; (no. 7) pp. 278–311 Dobra Kuća; (no. 3) pp. 124–31 Šenkovec; Dočkal, Samostan BDM u Dubici; Samostan BDM u Garić; Samostan BDM u Remetama; Povijest pavlinskog samostana sv. Benedikta; Samostan sv. Petra; Samostan Svih svetih; Povijest pavlinskog samostana BDM u Lepoglavi; Samostan Majke Božje Snježne; Samostan sv. Ane; Pleše, ‘Pregled pavlinskih samostana’, pp. 203–14.

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where the initial building phase can be attested through archaeo­logical excavation (Moslavina Mountain, Zlat, Streza, Dobra Kuća), or in transformed spaces where the late medi­eval phase can be attested only within open spaces in later and larger buildings (Remete, Šenkovec, Lepoglava, Kamensko). Both situations present challenges: the first, untransformed group involves the slow acquisition of data due to the demanding process of necessary conservation and restoration building works, while for the other group the space is usually not large enough to draw conclusions on the medi­eval phase and later restorations cannot be disturbed by archaeo­logical investigations. When deciding on the layout of their late medi­eval monasteries in Slavonia, the Pauline monks carefully considered the geomorpho­logical constraints and possibilities, and they took great care to accommodate architectural solutions within the financial limitations of a particular community. Where possible, the Paulines chose flat terrain for building their monasteries. An exception was the monastery on Moslavina Mountain, which is built on a small, rectangular three-terraced plateau, defined by two mountain streams.

Archaeo­logy and Architecture While Zlat monastery is different from the other Pauline monasteries — from its unusual choice of a location full of natural disadvantages to the odd layout — it is still the only monastery to have been completely explored and analysed. Its layout cannot be applied as a paradigm for the other monasteries, but it offers us an excellent picture of how the Paulines organized the space for one of their earliest communities (fig. 15.1).39 The unusual and asymmetric layout was primarily determined by geomorpho­ logical factors. The overall monastic surface area covers c. 420 m2 and the monastic church and the single monastery wing suited the needs and financial limitations of a small monastic community. The monastic church enclosed the southern part of the monastery. The western and eastern facades were reinforced with buttresses for unconventional reasons: the western facade, due to the sharp downward slope and the eastern one needed additional support because of the poor quality of construction. The main entrance to the church was therefore located 39  The closest ground plan to Zlat monastery is that of the Pauline monastery of the Holy Spirit in Pilisszenlélek. The similarity of these two monasteries lies in the fact that they were founded during the period that immediately followed the establishment of the Order, which resulted in the need to accommodate architectural solutions to each monasteries’ financial capacity. Bencze, ‘Das Kloster St Lorenz’, pp. 183–85; Guzsik, A pálos rend, pp. 58–59.

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Figure 15.1. Aerial view of Pauline monastery of St Peter and subsequent alterations after the completion of excavation and conservation works in 2015. Photo courtesy of the Croatian Conservation Institute.

on the south side of the church. Since none of the vault’s mouldings were found, it can be assumed that the monastic church was not vaulted; rather it had a simple, wooden coffered ceiling. The floor was most likely made of wooden slats. The single monastery range was directly connected to the church. The chapter house, that also possibly served as the refectory (8.5 × 4.9 m), and was immediately adjacent to the sanctuary, which was separated from the kitchen (5.5 × 4.9 m) by a corridor. This corridor (4.9 × 2.2 m) connected these two rooms with the courtyard (11.2 × 15.4 m) and the outdoor area. The eastern door was the only feature linking the monastic complex with the outside. It is possible that there was one more door, perhaps a utility entrance, located along what is presumed to have been a massive wooden fence which enclosed the monastery on the western side. Furthermore, the single range may have had an upper floor, possibly made of wood, in which the cubiculae were located. However, due to the likely small number of resident monks, the kitchen may have also been used as a dormitory.40 40 

Fülöpp Romhányi, ‘Life in the Pauline Monasteries’.

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Instead of the customary rectangular or square cloister with a well, the monastery had a simple rectangular, uncovered courtyard that was enclosed by the northern wall of the church, the western facade of the monastic range, and a simple wall to the north. No wall was discovered on the western side, so this area may have been enclosed by a wooden fence. The monastery also had no well because it was built on bedrock. The simplicity of the courtyard suggests that it had an economic role. Problems relating to later transformation of the monastic complexes and the lack of data, a situation that can only be remedied with further excavations, mean that little else can be said about the general layout of the late medi­e val phase of Pauline monasteries. Nevertheless, a consistent feature, regardless of the date of their establishment (excluding Dubica and Bakva), is that they were all built with a uniform plan in mind. Their ranges were organized around a rectangular or square cloister, while the church was situated in the south-eastern part of the monastery (with the exception of Moslavina Mountain). Most of the information relating to the layout of the monastic space was gathered following excavations of the late medi­eval phase of Lepoglava monastery.41 A significant part of the monastery remains unexplored due to the fact that building materials and foundations of the previous building were used in the seventeenth century for the construction of the new monastery, which covered its remains with a large, irregular courtyard (c. 40 × 30 m). Nonetheless, it was possible to determine that the monastery was formed around a square, stone-paved courtyard (10.8 × 10.8 m) with an off-centre well, surrounded with brick-paved corridors. The cloister was surrounded by at least three ranges. The chapel of the Holy Spirit (c. 14 × 10 m) stood in the southern part of the east range.42 It was connected to the church either through the eastern corridor or through a rectangular sacristy. Transformations to the Baroque style and quarrying of the building material thoroughly destroyed the late medi­e val spatial organization of Remete, Šenkovec, and Kamensko. It is hoped that our understanding of the spatial organization will be increased with future excavations of monasteries on Moslavina Mountain, in Streza, and in Dobra Kuća. Unlike Šenkovec, Lepoglava, Kamensko, and Dobra Kuća, the monastic church on Moslavina Mountain was not transformed during later centuries and 41 

Pleše, ‘Arheološka istraživanja’. Kristolovec, Liber memorabilium, pp. 22–23, 45; Dočkal, Povijest pavlinskog samostana BDM u Lepoglavi, pp. 19, 164. 42 

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Figure 15.2. Aerial view of the church of the Pauline monastery of the Blessed Virgin Mary at Moslavina Mountain following the excavations in 2015. Photo courtesy of the Croatian Conservation Institute.

was preserved in a fairly good state, as opposed to Streza and Remete which are preserved only in their foundations (fig. 15.2). In addition, its church was thoroughly investigated, thus allowing it to be taken as an architectural paradigm for late medi­eval Pauline monastic churches. This church is situated on the highest terrace in the north-eastern part of the monastery.43 The evidence of architectural mouldings suggests that the monastic church was built in late Romanesque style and rebuilt in late Gothic style. Its ground plan also suggests a late Gothic style: the length of the church with external dimensions of 32.25 × 12.3 m pointed up by a single rectangular nave with internal dimensions of 16.5 × 8.6 m, and a slightly smaller chancel enclosed by polygonal apse measuring approximately 12.65 × 6.5 m. The height of the church remains unknown, but it can be assumed that the ceiling vaults were at least 12 m high. The roofing was probably double-pitched and covered with shingles. The large number of vault ribs carved in late Gothic style suggests that the monastic church was vaulted, at least during this later building phase. Its construction was well accomplished, since the buttresses were built only around the chancel. 43 

Situating the monastic church in this part of the monastery was not a common solution (e.g. St Jacob in Patacs). In this case, its position may be correlated to the fact that this highest terrace was a dominant one. Guzsik, A pálos rend építészete, pp. 29–34.

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Unfortunately, little can be said about the positions of the window openings in the church, except that they were situated within the higher and now-collapsed portions of the walls. Attention to detail can be seen in the rich, late Gothicstyle decorations of the western portal and doorways to the cloister and sacristy, as well as in the rib supports preserved in situ in the polygonal apse and sedilia on the southern wall of the chancel. It is unclear if the interior architectural mouldings were coloured possibly in dark red and dark blue. Little can be said otherwise regarding the interior decoration. The church was paved inside with square clay tiles, preserved in an almost intact state. Several fragments of wall paintings with simple floral designs in red and blue were found in the chancel. However, it is uncertain if other walls were decorated in the same style or were simply whitewashed. Moslavina Mountain monastic church had five altars: the main one located in the chancel, and four in the nave (two smaller ones in the middle of the nave, and two larger ones in line with the northern and southern part of the triumphal arch). As the monastery was also a centre of pilgrimage, another altar was built along the northern part of the western facade. This church indicates that all monastic churches44 of the Slavonian Pauline monasteries were constructed to emphasize their longitudinal axis. This was achieved through roughly equal spatial ratios between a single rectangular nave with an average internal dimension of 13–15 × 7–9 m, and a chancel enclosed by a polygonal apse with an average dimension of 12–13 × 6–7 m. If the largest example, the church at Moslavina Mountain, and the smallest one at Zlat are excluded, the average external dimensions of the Pauline Slavonian monastery church were 28–30 × 9–11 m.45 The 44 

It should also be noted that the Paulines strongly respected the consuetudo of the church, which can be clearly seen in the case of Remete. Before the present-day church was built at the beginning of the fifteenth century, the two previous churches were torn down by the extensive destruction caused at Remete by landslides within a century. The first church dated from second half of the thirteenth century to first half of the fourteenth century, and second church from the time of the King Charles Robert’s reign to 1400. The reconstructions of their ground plans were made through spatial rotation and translation of the data acquired with 3D laser scanning and with comparative analyses of the dimensions of other Pauline late medi­eval monastic churches. 45  Remete — first church (foundations): exter. dim.: c. 30.4 × 10.8 m, nave inter. dim.: c.  13.75  ×  8  m, chancel inter. dim.: c.  13.8  ×  6.1  m; Remete — second church (foundations): exter. dim.: c. 34.4 × 14.35 m, nave inter. dim.: c. 14.8 × 8.6 m, chancel inter. dim.: c. 13.75 × 7 m; Zlat — exter. dim.: 17.5 × 8.3 m, nave inter. dim.: 8.15 × 6.65 m, chancel inter. dim: 7.6 × 3.4 m; Streza (foundations) — exter. dim.: 32.9 × 9.25 m, nave inter. dim.: 15.6 × 7.3 m, chancel inter. dim.: 14.1 × 6.9 m; Šenkovec — exter. dim. c. 25–28 × 7–9 m, nave

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height of these churches is at present unknown. But it can be assumed that they were designed to follow an elegant, elongated form and that all of them had double-pitched roofs, probably covered with shingles. The existence of massive, rectangular buttresses along the free-standing facades, with the exception of Zlat, implies that all the monastic churches were vaulted. Besides their supporting function, the architectural mouldings, and especially the vault ribs, had a decorative function, since layers of red and blue paint were discovered on them. It is not possible to establish the system of light apertures for various reasons. Some churches are preserved only in the lowest parts of their foundations (Remete, Streza), or the height of the walls that is preserved is not sufficient to indicate the location of windows (Moslavina Mountain), or the windows disappeared during the later transformations to the Baroque and Neo-Gothic styles. Similar factors influence speculation regarding their internal layout and decoration. The nature of the floors is known only in Moslavina Mountain and in Šenkovec where rectangular or square clay tiles were used. Apart from Moslavina Mountain, there is no other evidence of wall decorations, and similarly late medi­eval altars survive only in Moslavina Mountain and Streza. In the latter monastery the foundation of an altar was found in the southern part of the nave. Altars in Lepoglava are known from archival material.46 In spite of the limitations to our current knowledge on the medi­e val Slavonian monasteries of the Pauline order, future archival research and excavations will hopefully expand our knowledge of the spatial organization of these monasteries, as well as our understanding of the role this order had in the shaping of the historical and political Slavonian landscape.

inter. dim.: c. 13–15 × 7–8.5 m, chancel inter. dim.: c. 8.5–9.5 × 6 m; Lepoglava — exter. dim.: c. 29.5 × 10.5 m, nave inter. dim.: c. 13.5 × 8 m, chancel inter. dim.: c. 13.5 × 7 m; Kamensko — exter. dim.: c. 23.5 × 11 m; nave inter. dim.: 11.5 × 9 m; chancel inter. dim.: 10.6 × 6 m; Dobra Kuća — inter. dim. c. 9.8 × 4.5 m (proper architectural documentation does not exist). Due to later transformations (prolongation of the church towards west), the positions of the western facades for the churches in Šenkovec, Kamensko, and Lepoglava were not possible to deduce. 46  Eggerer, Fragmen panis, p. 250; Kristolovec, Liber memorabilium, pp. 30–31; Dočkal, Povijest pavlinskog samostana BDM u Lepoglavi, pp. 58, 156.

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Works Cited Manu­scripts and Archival Sources Benger, Nicolaus, Chronotaxis monasteriorum Ordinis FF: Eremitarum s. Pauli primi eremitae in provinciis Istriae et Croatiae, undated manu­script, Zagreb, Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts (CASA) RARA Dočkal, Kamilo, Povijest pavlinskog samostana sv. Benedikta u Bakvi (manu­script, Zagreb, 1952), CASA Archives —— , Samostan Blažene Djevice Marije u Gariću (manu­script, Zagreb, 1955), CASA Archives —— , Samostan Svih svetih u Strezi 1375 (manu­script, Zagreb, 1952), CASA Archives —— , Samostan sv. Ane u Dobroj Kući (manu­script, Zagreb, 1953), CASA Archives —— , Samostan sv. Petra na Zlatu (manu­script, Zagreb, 1953), CASA Archives —— , Samostan Blažene Djevice Marije u Remetama (manu­script, Zagreb, 1953), CASA Archives —— , Samostan BDM u Dubici —— , Povijest pavlinskog samostana sv. Jelene u Čakovcu (manu­script, Zagreb, 1951), CASA Archives —— , Povijest pavlinskog samostana Blažene Djevice Marije u Lepoglavi (manu­script, Zagreb, 1953), CASA Archives —— , Samostan Majke Božje Snježne u Kamenskom (manu­script, Zagreb, 1953), CASA Archives Kristolovec, Ioannes, Descriptio Monasteriorum s. Pauli primi Eremitae in Illyrio fundatorum, tam per Turcas ab antiquo destructorum quam in praesena existentium cum suis memorabilibus per Rssmum Patrem Fr. Joannem Kristolovecz Proto-eremitici Ordinis s. Pauli Generalem conciccata additis ad calcem notis historicis P. Fr. Nicolai Benger 1738, undated manu­script, CASA RARA —— , Liber memorabilium parochiae Lepoglavensis ab Anno 1401 usque 1789, undated manu­ script, CASA RARA Orosz, Franciscus, Synopsis annalium coenobiticorum Fratrum Eremitarum Ordinis s. Puli primi Eremitae (manu­script, Sopronii, 1747), CASA RARA

Primary Sources Bedeković, Josip, Natale solum magni ecclesiae doctoris Sancti Hieronymi in ruderibus Stridonis occultatum (Wiener Neustadt: Ex Typo­grapheo Muelleriano, 1752) Eggerer, Andreas, Fragmen panis corvi proto-eremitici seu reliqiae annalium eremi-coenobiticorum Ordinis Fratrum Eremitarum s. Pauli primi eremitae (Vienna: Matthaeus Cosmerovius, 1663)

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Secondary Works Adamček, Josip, ‘Pavlini i njihovi feudalni posjedi’, in Kultura pavlina u Hrvatskoj, 1244–1786, ed. by Đurđica Cvitanović and others (Zagreb: Globus, 1989), pp. 41–65 Azinović Bebek, Ana, ‘Kamensko — pavlinski samostan’, Hrvatski arheološki godišnjak, 3 (2007), 211–12 Balog, Zdenko, ‘Arheološka istraživanja u Lepoglavi 1990/1991 (1993)’, Lepoglavski zbor­nik, 39 (1996), 21–46 Barlè, Janko, Remete, povijesni podaci o samostanu, župi i crkvi (Zagreb: Tisak i naklada Marka Mileusnića, 1914) Bencze, Zoltán, ‘Das Kloster St Lorenz bei Buda (Budaszentlörinc) und andere ungarische Paulinerklöster Archäo­logische Untersuchengen’, in Beiträge zur Geschichte des Paulinerordens (Ordensstudien XIV), ed. by Kaspar Elm, Berliner Historische Studien, 32 (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 2000), pp. 157–90 Budak, Neven, Hrvatska i Slavonija u ranom novom vijeku (Zagreb: Leykam International, 2007) Budak, Neven, and Tomislav Raukar, Hrvatska povijest srednjeg vijeka (Zagreb: Školska knjiga, 2006) Damjanović, Dragan, ‘Historicističke obnove crkve sv. Ane u Donjoj Vrijeski’, Scrinia Slavo­nica, 9 (2009), 125–60 Dubois, Jacques, Monaški redovi (Novi Sad: Književna zajednica, 1988) Franzen, August, Pregled povijesti crkve (Zagreb: Kršćanska sadašnjost, 1996) Fras, Franz de Paula Julius, Topografija Karlovačke vojne krajine: Mjestopis iz 1835. godine (Gospić: Biblioteka Ličke župe, 1988) Fülöpp Romhányi, Beatrix, ‘Die Pauliner im mittel­alterlichen Ungarn’, in Beiträge zur Geschichte des Paulinerordens (Ordensstudien  XIV), ed.  by Kaspar Elm, Berliner Historische Studien, 32 (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 2000), pp. 143–56 —— , Kolostorok és társaskáptalanok a középkori Magyarországon (Budapest: Pytheas, 2000) —— , ‘Life in the Pauline Monasteries of Late Medi­eval Hungary’, Periodica polytechnica, 43 (2012), 53–56 Grgin, Borislav, Počeci rasapa: Kralj Matijaš Korvin i srednjovjekovna Hrvatska (Zagreb: Ibis grafika, 2001) Guzsik, Tamás, A pálos rend építészete a középkori Magyarországon (Budapest: Mikes Kiadó, 2003) Inalcik, Halil, Osmansko carstvo: Klasično doba, 1300–1600 (Zagreb: Srednja Europa, 2002) Jurković, Ivan, ‘Turska opasnost i hrvatski velikaši — knez Bernardin Frankapan i njegovo doba’, Zbornik Odsjeka za povijesne znanosti Zavoda za povijesne i društvene znanosti HAZU, 17 (2000), 61–83 Klaić, Nada, Povijest Hrvata u ranom srednjem vijeku (Zagreb: Školska knjiga, 1971) —— , Povijest Hrvata u razvijenom srednjem vijeku (Zagreb: Školska knjiga, 1976) Kolar Dimitrijević, Mira, ‘Urbar pavlinskog samostana u Strezi iz 1477. godine’, Podravina, 2.3 (2003), 103–23

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Kruhek, Milan, Krajiške utvrde i obrana hrvatskog kraljevstva tijekom 16. stoljeća (Zagreb: Hrvatski institut za povijest, 1995) —— , ‘Samostan sv. Petra na Slatskoj, danas Petrovoj gori — povijest i arheološka istra­ živanja’, Lepoglavski zbornik, 21 (1998), 113–32 Laszowski, Emilij, ‘Zrinski mauzolej u sv. Jeleni kod Čakovca’, Hrvatsko kolo, 9 (1928), 244–59 Lopašić, Radoslav, Oko Kupe i Korane (Zagreb: Naklada Matice hrvatske, 1895) Mályusz, Elemér, ‘A szlavoniai és horvátországi középkori pálos kolostorok oklevelei az Országos Levéltárban’, Levéltári közlemények, 3 (1925), 100–86; 5 (1927), 136–209; 6  (1928), 87–203; 7  (1929), 278–311; 8  (1930), 65–111; 9  (1931), 284–315; 10 (1932), 92–123, 256–86; 11 (1933), 58–92; 12 (1934), 111–54; 13 (1935), 233–65 Mašić, Boris, and Tajana Pleše, ‘On the Group Find of Gold Coins next to the Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Remete’, Opuscula archaeo­logica, 33 (2009), 207–19 —— , ‘On Unstable Foundations. The Excavations of the Monastery of the Pauline Order in Remete, Croatia’, Minerva, 21 (2010), 50–53 Mužić, Ivan, Vjera Crkve bosanske (Split: Muzej hrvatskih arheoloških spomenika, 2008) Pisk, Silvija, ‘Pavlinski samostan Blažene Djevice Marije na Gariću (Moslavačka gora) i njegova uloga u regionalnoj povijesti’ (unpublished doctoral thesis, Uni­ver­sity of Zagreb, 2011) Pleše, Tajana, ‘Arheološka istraživanja pavlinskog samostana u Lepoglavi’, Vjesnik Arheo­ loškog muzeja u Zagrebu, 38 (2005), 63–91 —— , ‘Monasterium B. V. Mariae sub monte seu Promontorio Garigh, alias Garich’, Radovi Zavoda za znanstvenoistraživački i umjetnički rad u Bjelovaru, 4 (2011), 101–18 —— , ‘Monasterium de S. Petri in monte Zlat’, Opuscula archaeo­logica, 35 (2011), 319–50 —— , ‘Pregled pavlinskih samostana kasnosrednjovjekovne Slavonije’, Journal of the Histo­ rical Society of Križevci, 12 (2011), 202–22 —— , ‘Bulla plumbea of Pope Boniface IX from Streza’, Prilozi Instituta za arheo­logiju u Zagrebu, 29 (2012), 125–34 Pleše, Tajana, and Krešimir Karlo, ‘Monasterium omnium sanctorum de Ztreza Ordinis S. Pauli Primi Eremitae’, Opuscula archaeo­logica, 33 (2009), 183–205 Raukar, Tomislav, Hrvatsko srednjovjekovlje: Prostor, ljudi, ideje (Zagreb: Školska knjiga i Zavod za hrvatsku povijest Filozofskog fakulteta u Zagrebu, 1997) Šanjek, Franjo, Crkva i kršćanstvo u Hrvata (srednji vijek) (Zagreb: Kršćanska sadašnjost, 1993) Sekulić, Ante, Remete (Zagreb: Kršćanska sadašnjost, 1986) Smičiklas, Tadija, Poviest Hrvatska, i: Od najstarijih vremena do godine 1526 (Zagreb: Naklada Matice hrvatske, 1882) Vidović, Josip, ‘Sveta Jelena, Šenkovec 1990–1996’, in Népek a Mura mentén, ed. by Simon Katalin (Zalaegerszeg: Vándor László, 1998), pp. 61–78

Monastic Environments and Economies

New Light on Caesarius’s Abbey: Recent Excavations at the Cistercian Monastery of Heisterbach, Germany Christoph Keller

H

eisterbach Abbey was a Cistercian monastery situated to the southeast of Co­logne in Germany. It was founded in 1189 and occupied until the dissolution of the monastery in 1803. Most of the claustral buildings as well as the larger part of the abbey church were demolished for salvage and sold as building materials. The stones were shipped to Neuss to be reused for the construction of the Canal du Nord.1 Only the eighteenthcentury abbey farm and the choir of the abbey church survived destruction and can be visited today.2 While the layout of the abbey church was recorded prior to its destruction, no plans or accurate drawings of the claustral buildings have survived.3 Little can be gained from contemporary sources, as many only mention spaces such as the refectory, dormitory, or the abbot’s house, without providing further information on the date of construction, layout, or exact location within the claustral complex.4 1 

Duisburg, Landesarchiv NRW, Großherzogtum Berg, no. 938, pp. 24, 49–51. Keller, Kloster Heisterbach, pp. 7–22. 3  Boisserée, Denkmale der Baukunst, pls 39–44; Verbeek, ‘Alte Ansichten von Heisterbach’. 4  Brunsch, Zisterzienserkloster Heisterbach, pp. 122–35. 2 

Christoph Keller ([email protected]) is an archaeo­logist working with the LVR-Amt für Bodendenkmalpflege im Rheinland, the regional commission for archaeo­logical monuments. His specialist fields are the archaeo­logy of medi­eval monasteries as well as medi­eval and postmedi­eval pottery. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 407–429 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117272

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The Original Phase of Heisterbach Abbey: Petersberg Mountain The main source for the early years of Heisterbach comes from the seven hundred and forty-six miracle stories of the Dialogus miraculorum.5 They were compiled and written down in the years 1219 to 1223 by Caesarius of Heisterbach, who wrote a number of hagio­graphic and historic narratives while serving as prior and novice master at Heisterbach. He also gave a vivid account of the original foundation of Heisterbach Abbey on Petersberg Mountain near Bonn.6 A little more can be gleaned from the inventories compiled in 1804 and 1810 in preparation for the sale of the abbey. But even with the dimensions of the floors stated and the function of a number of rooms defined, these descriptions were diminished due to the loss of the plans drawn by Huschberger and Broich in 1804.7 Archaeo­logical investigations, which started in 2008, provided vital information on the design and development of the abbey church and the adjacent claustral buildings, which were constructed in the early thirteenth century after the abbey was moved from its original location. Heisterbach was founded in 1189 by Philipp of Heinsberg, archbishop of Co­logne, when he granted buildings and property of a former house of Augustinian canons to the Cistercian abbey of Himmerod.8 The Augustinian foundation had been established by Walter the Hermit and his followers during the twelfth century, when they rented an area within the ruined enclosure of an Iron Age hill fort on top of Petersberg Mountain, for which they paid 16 pfennige each year to the inhabitants of the village of Königswinter.9 Statutes and property of this small convent of canons regular were confirmed by Pope Innocent II and his successor Celestine II.10 At some point after 1177, the canons left Petersberg Mountain for an unknown destination, leaving both land and monastic buildings at the disposal of Philipp of Heinsberg. He decided to

5 

Caesarius, Dialogus miraculorum, ed. and trans. by Nösges and Schneider. Caesarius, Dialogus miraculorum, ed. and trans. by Nösges and Schneider, book viii, chap. 91. 7  Duisburg, Landesarchiv NRW, Jülich-Berg II, no. 6160; Duisburg, Landesarchiv NRW, Karten, 8036. 8  Caesarius, Dialogus miraculorum, ed. and trans. by Nösges and Schneider, book i, chap. 1 and book viii, chap. 91; Caesarius, Exempla, ed. by Hilka, p. 106, no. 105; Brunsch, Zisterzienserkloster Heisterbach, pp. 42–59. 9  Urkundenbuch der Abtei Heisterbach, ed. by Schmitz, no. 6. 10  Urkundenbuch der Abtei Heisterbach, ed. by Schmitz, nos 1, 2. 6 

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establish a third Cistercian house in his archdiocese and asked the monastery of Himmerod, a daughter house of Clairvaux, for support.11 Caesarius is the prime witness to the foundation and the earliest days of Heisterbach Abbey. He describes how twelve monks and lay brethren followed their new abbot Hermann on his journey from the Eifel region towards their new destination to establish the ‘monasterium montis sancti Petri’.12 They left Himmerod on 17 March 1189, travelling on foot to Zelting. There they boarded a ship to sail down the Mosel and Rhine rivers towards Königswinter and Petersberg Mountain. Their mother house supported them not only with the necessary liturgical books, four Co­logne solidi, and a oneeyed horse, but also with a grange at Bürrig near Düsseldorf.13 Philipp granted them the monastic buildings at Petersberg and also gave them land at nearby Heisterbach and Meckenheim as well as land on the Stenzelberg, where volcanic rock was quarried.14 Excavations on Petersberg Mountain revealed the remains of a stone church, later extended by the addition of side aisles and radiating chapels expanding from the ambulatory.15 As there were no datable finds recovered from the construction layers, it is impossible to decide whether the church was built by the canons regular or by the Cistercians.16 All remains of a cloister or other monastic buildings were destroyed during the construction of a cog railway at the end of the nineteenth century. The reasons for the foundation of the abbey at Petersberg are unclear as no formal foundation charter has survived. The common explanation is that Cistercian industriousness was seen as advantageous by Philipp of Heinsberg.17 Caesarius recorded a more spiritual motive, which was expressed by Philipp: Utinam […] esset inqualibet villa Dioecesis meae conventus iustorum, qui et Deum iugiter laudarent, et tam pro me quam pro mihi commisis orarent. Puto quia tunc

11 

Brunsch, Zisterzienserkloster Heisterbach, pp. 40–45. Caesarius, Dialogus miraculorum, ed. and trans. by Nösges and Schneider, book viii, chap. 91. 13  Ex gestis sanctorum Villariensium, ed. by Waitz, p. 222. 14  Brunsch, Zisterzienserkloster Heisterbach, p. 44. 15  Joachim, ‘Ausgrabungen auf dem Petersberg’, pp. 416–25. 16  Buchert, ‘Der Petersberg’, pp. 446–48. 17  Urkundenbuch der Abtei Heisterbach, ed. by Schmitz, no. 2. 12 

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melior multo esset status Ecclesiae meae, quam modo sit; nulli nocerent, cum multis prodessent. Aliena non rapiunt, cum sua omnibus impartiantur.18 (If there would be […] a convent of godly [men] in each village of my dioceses, who would also give everlasting praise to God, and would pray for me and for my sins. I believe, the state of my church is much better than before; [the monks] do not harm anybody, but are of great benefit for many. They do not steal other’s properties, but share theirs with everyone).

Apart from prayers and commemoration for his soul, there were also far more mundane reasons for Philipp’s foundation. During the later twelfth century the Siebengebirge region functioned as a frontier area where the counts of Sayn advanced their sphere of influence northwards into the archbishopric of Co­logne, emerging victorious in their struggle over the legacy of the last count of Bonn in 1145 and acquiring the Saffenberg’s estates through marriage with Agnes of Saffenberg prior to 1173 (map 16.1).19 To protect their expanding territory they started to build a castle with an adjoining town at Blankenberg before 1181.20 During an earlier period the counts of Berg had strengthened their position by becoming bailiffs of the Benedictine monastery at Siegburg and by being enfeoffed with a castle at Windeck in 1174. At the same time Philipp, archbishop of Co­logne, launched a large-scale programme to protect his territory, binding many of the local aristocracy as vassals to the see of Co­logne to maintain a balance of power between the different regional powers. Investing large sums of money in his strategy, he bought several territories, castles, and towns, enfeoffing them back to their former owners, thus having the castles as strongholds at his disposal with their inhabitants as vassals to his court.21 Within his territory Philipp was also keen to minimize the influence of other lords by depriving them of their positions as bailiffs of monasteries. He succeeded in doing so at the female Cistercian convents of Meer, Schwarzrheindorf, and Rees, where he either became bailiff himself or subordinated them to the control of Heisterbach.22 It is possible, therefore, to view Philipp’s decision to found a Cistercian monastery at 18 

Caesarius, Dialogus miraculorum, ed. and trans. by Nösges and Schneider, book iv, chap. 64. 19  Halbekann, Die älteren Grafen von Sayn, p. 271. 20  Halbekann, Die älteren Grafen von Sayn, pp. 277–81. 21  Flurschütz da Cruz, ‘Unterwerfung Philipps von Köln’, p.  51; Kallen, ‘Philipp von Heinsberg’, p. 38; Halbekann, Die älteren Grafen von Sayn, p. 281. 22  Kallen, ‘Philipp von Heinsberg’, p. 50.

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Map 16.1. Heisterbach and the Siebengebirge region. The county of Berg (yellow) and the archbishopric of Co­logne form compact properties, while the counts of Sayn (blue) own dispersed holdings. Map by the author, based on map DGM1, Land NRW (2016, data licence Germany — attribution — version 2.0 ).

Petersberg Mountain as being part of his policy to establish and secure a territory under his direct authority, thus keeping the neighbouring lords at bay.23 The decision to bring monks from Himmerod eliminated any threat from the counts of Berg, who were patrons of the Cistercian abbey at Altenberg, to gain influence over the new abbey. The new foundation also successfully acquired property in Heisterbach Valley, where the counts of Sayn had acted as b­ ailiffs, hence reducing their power significantly. To prevent this from happening again, Heinrich II, count of Sayn compelled the monks to promise that they would not acquire any further property under his bailiwick without his con23 

Brunsch, Zisterzienserkloster Heisterbach, p. 40; Neiniger, Abt Heinrich I., pp. 10–11.

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Map 16.2. Medi­eval settlements in the vicinity of Heisterbach. Map by the author, based on Ur­ kundenbuch der Abtei Heisterbach, ed. by Schmitz, pp. 42–66, background map DGM1, Land NRW (2016, data licence Germany — attribution — version 2.0 ).

sent.24 Along with Heinrich many other landowners in the vicinity of the new foundation were worried by the arrival of the Cistercians. Caesarius reports: multis dicentibus quia ‘ad  hoc monachi isti conveniunt, ut nos filiosque nostros exheredent’. Timent parentes, ne possessiones filiis vel nepotibus dimisse a monachis comparentur; timent filii, ne parentes morientes illis pro remedio animarum suarum legent hereditates suas sive pecunias.25 24  25 

Caesarius, Exempla, ed. by Hilka, p. 106, no. 105. Caesarius, Exempla, ed. by Hilka, p. 106, no. 105.

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(many allege, that as ‘the monks have gathered here, they will disinherit us and our sons.’ Parents fear, that the holdings will be bought from the monks, after they have been abandoned by their sons and grandsons. Sons fear, that their dying parents will bequeath their heritage and wealth to them [the monks] for the salvation of their souls).

These concerns might have been exaggerated, but they were not completely wrong. The monastery of St Peter was founded within an almost fully developed and densely settled landscape where a large number of both lay and ecclesiastic individuals and institutions owned land, tithes, and bailiwicks. Next to the archbishop of Co­logne the female canonesses at Vilich and the canons of St Cassius in Bonn were the most important ecclesiastic landowners possessing large properties at Heisterbach, Hattenrode, Altrott, and on Petersberg and Stenzelberg mountains.26 The major lay landowners were the counts of Sayn, the counts of Molbach, and Agnes of Rosowe.27 The surviving charters granting lands and tithes to the Cistercians provide details in relation to at least thirteen different landowners in the vicinity of Heisterbach (map 16.2). Contrary to general Cistercian legislation the new abbey was not founded in a remote spot in unsettled wilderness. At least five small hamlets and villages existed in the area in the twelfth century. While Nieder- and Oberdollendorf still thrive today, Heisterbach, Altenrott, and Hattenrode have disappeared. The surviving historic records do not tell us whether they were already deserted, when the land was given to the monks at the end of the twelfth century. There is also a possibility that at least some villagers were forced to leave by Archbishop Philipp to accommodate his new foundation.28

The Monastery’s Move to Heisterbach Within a few years after their arrival at Petersberg the monks acquired further property in the hamlet of Heisterbach. They were able to move to the steep valley at the foot of Petersberg Mountain in 1192, as the mountain plateau of Petersberg was considered to be a harsh and bleak spot.29 Caesarius states:

26 

Urkundenbuch der Abtei Heisterbach, ed. by Schmitz, nos 2, 4, 10, 11, 208, 503. Urkundenbuch der Abtei Heisterbach, ed. by Schmitz, nos 5, 15, 87. 28  Caesarius, Dialogus miraculorum, ed. and trans. by Nösges and Schneider, book iv, chap. 63. 29  Maaßen, Geschichte der Pfarreien, p. 323. 27 

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Map 16.3. A small medi­eval granary in the hamlet of Heisterbach. The plan of the 2010 excavation shows the Iron Age (green) and medi­eval (blue) structures north of the perimeter wall. Map by K. Frank.

nam cum conventus super praefatum venisset montem, et multa eis necessaria deessent, quidam reminiscentes aedificiorum et aliorum multrorum quae dimiserant, et murmurantes redire vellent.30 (When the monks settled at the aforesaid mountain [Petersberg] and were lacking all necessaries, some of them remembered the buildings and all the other amenities they had left behind. They grumbled about returning).

The new site was located immediately to the south of the old hamlet of Heisterbach, one building of which was excavated in 2010.31 It was a granary consisting of six posts and datable to c. 1200 (map 16.3). No other eleventh- or twelfth-century settlements have been discovered to date and therefore, the extent of the village at Heisterbach is currently unknown and its development over time yet to be established. When the Cistercians started building their new monastery, they created a sense of remoteness by first erecting a perimeter wall with a gatehouse to enclose 30  Caesarius, Dialogus miraculorum, ed. and trans. by Nösges and Schneider, book viii, chap. 91. 31  Frank, ‘Überraschung am Fuß des Petersbergs’, p. 75.

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the monastic complex and to seclude themselves from the world. According to Caesarius, the church and cloister and all the adjacent buildings were constructed from wood.32 The remains of these early buildings have not been found during the excavations. One of the reasons, apart from the limited extent of the archaeo­logical work, might be due to the earth moving and levelling works conducted during the first phase of construction between 1202 and the 1240s. These extensive works became necessary, as the location chosen for the abbey church and the claustral buildings was at the mouth of one of the small and fairly steeply cut valleys typically found in the Siebengebirge region. The monks probably had no access at this stage to the more even ground to the north. To avoid subsidence that might have endangered the foundations, the master builder decided to build large substructures on the valley floor consisting of a long succession of high vaulted rooms. They were used as storage cellars underneath the claustral west range and the western end of the church, once the surrounding area had been piled up. One of the doors giving access to the cellars survives on the north side of the church, where the last vestiges of the former valley can be observed on Boisserée’s drawing (fig. 16.1).33 In the end, the monks levelled an area of more than 10,000 m2 and raised the ground level by up to 5 m. Foundations for the refectory and other buildings were dug into the newly raised ground. The process of utilizing and changing the natural environment was not restricted to the abbey precinct. Large works were undertaken to ensure a sufficient supply of drinking and service water by drawing on several springs inside and outside the abbey’s precinct.34 Drinking water was collected in a stone-covered well house some hundred metres to the south of the eighteenthcentury perimeter wall. It was probably channelled through a gravity pipeline into a reservoir. Using clay and lead pipes it was piped to the fountain house on the south side of the cloister. Within the polygonal ground plan stood a fountain consisting of two large circular basins. Only the eastern wall of the fountain house survived, as an underground water tank was built on the site in 1978 without archaeo­logical supervision.35 Service water was collected at two different sources. A small stream coming down the valley south of the abbey 32  Caesarius, Dialogus miraculorum, ed. and trans. by Nösges and Schneider, book vii, chap. 21. 33  Boisserée, Denkmale der Baukunst, p. 39 and pl. 41. 34  Keller, ‘Wasserversorgung’. 35  Keller, ‘Überlegungen zur Klausur’, pp. 231–33.

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Figure 16.1. Elevation of the northern facade of the abbey church at Heisterbach. Source: Boisserée, Denkmale der Baukunst, pl. 41.

was used to operate a mill and feed three small fishponds within the precinct. Water from the ponds was led into a stone-lined drain and used for flushing the latrines. To ensure a water supply even during the dry summer period a second spring had to feed into the system. As a result, a tunnel was driven into the mountain slope reaching an aquifer in the tuffa stratum (fig. 16.2). This well is still in use today providing drinking water for a nursing home on the site. All waste water within the abbey was collected in the main sewer and channelled out into the Heisterbach Valley below.36 There a system of fishponds was constructed during the Middle Ages. A series of large earthen dams blocked the valley floor and dammed the Heisterbach stream. Fish farming ceased after the Dissolution, leaving the ponds to silt up and to be ploughed over and used as cattle grazing fields. Once the preparatory works for the monastery were completed, construction of the abbey church and claustral buildings was begun with the assistance of hired stone masons. The monks and lay brethren acted as unskilled workers labouring in the Stenzelberg quarry (fig. 16.3).37 At least ten differ36  37 

Keller, ‘Wasserversorgung’. Caesarius, Exempla, ed. by Hilka, p. 133, no. 170.

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ent stonemasons must have been working on site and these can be identified by their marks on ashlars from the church and the claustral buildings.38 The design of the abbey church was a unique combination of Cistercian and regional late Staufian architectural styles. Clairvaux, which became the first Cistercian church containing a saint’s burial, provided a kind of master plan for surrounding the choir with an ambulatory and a series of radiating chapels. 39 From around 1180 onwards, several abbeys including Alcobaca, Alvastra, and Bonport copied the layout and ground plan of Clairvaux. In addition, the cathedral at Thérouanne and the Premonstratensian abbey church of Dommartin in Picardy can Figure 16.2. The tunnel in the tuffa stratum be seen as precursors of the layout leading towards one of the wells of Heisterbach. using double columns between the Photo by the author. sanctuary and the ambulatory.40 The workmen copied the layout and overall structure of the French models, converting them into the late Romanesque style favoured in the Rhine-Maas region at the beginning of the thirteenth century.41 Only the choir and the ambulatory survive today as all the medi­ eval buildings were demolished following the suppression of the monastery in 1803 (fig. 16.4). Alongside the ambulatory nine circular chapels are set into the thick outer wall. From the outside they can only be recognized by their small arched windows. The choir and the transepts are connected by a short rectangular chancel. 38 

Stadt Königswinter, Zisterzienser und Heisterbach, p. 81, no. A 9. Untermann, Forma ordinis, p. 427. 40  Kubach and Verbeek, Romanische Baukunst, p. 376. 41  Buchert, ‘Die ehemalige Klosterkirche Heisterbach’, p.  179; Kubach and Verbeek, Romanische Baukunst, pp. 369–77. 39 

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Figure 16.3. The quarry at the Stenzelberg Mountain. Photo by N. Andrikopoulou.

The transepts, recorded during excavations in 1986, had two chapels each on the eastern side similar to the church at Clairvaux.42 The nave was interrupted by secondary transepts at the location of the altar of the Holy Cross. This was the point at which a clear demarcation was made between the monks’ and the lay brethren’s choir stalls visible from the outside. This feature can also be found in churches of canons in the Rhineland.43 The Heisterbach church was the second largest church in the Rhineland region in this period. Despite its size, the church, together with the claustral complex, was finished within a rather short period of thirty-five years. This was achieved not only by substantial grants from lay and ecclesiastic benefactors, but also by effectively cutting construction costs. Most stone was quarried locally at the mountains of Stenzelberg and Petersberg from monastic quarries. Only the outer walls of the clerestory as well as those of the choir were constructed of small tuffa bricks, which had to be bought and shipped to the site from the Bröhltal Valley.44 The 42 

Schulze and others, ‘Die Klosterkirche der ehemaligen Zisterzienserabtei in Heisterbach’, pp. 104–11. 43  Kubach and Verbeek, Romanische Baukunst, p. 375. 44  Keller, ‘Steine für Heisterbach’, pp. 13–14.

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Figure 16.4. Ruins of the choir at the church of Heisterbach abbey. Photo by the author.

use of finely dressed and well-cut ashlar blocks was reduced to a minimum, as they were mainly used to strengthen buttresses, pillars, and corners. Thin slabs were used occasionally to imitate large blocks. All other walls were constructed from rubble, plastered and whitewashed. Similar construction techniques at the abbey church of Pontigny were seen as economic measures to reduce building expenses.45 The design of the capitals was reduced to a minimum, lacking all intricate narrative and floral decoration known from contemporary stone sculpture within the Rhine-Maas region. Some of the capitals seem not to have been finished on all sides before they were used (fig. 16.5). As there are no direct comparisons to the Heisterbach capitals it is difficult to tell whether this reduction in decorative details is inspired by Cistercian ideals of simplicity46 or whether it was seen as a way of reducing stone-cutting time.47 45 

Kinder, ‘Architecture of the Cistercian Abbey of Pontigny’, p. 245. Buchert, ‘Die ehemalige Klosterkirche Heisterbach’, pp. 116–17. 47  Kemper, Bauornamentik, p. 209. 46 

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The claustral buildings were grouped around a rectangular cloister situated to the south of the abbey church (fig.  16.6).48 Before excavations started in 2009, only the ground plan of the northern cloister walk was known from the drawings published by Sulpiz Boisserée.49 Ten bays, stretching from the southern transept to the west range, opened into the cloister garth by triple arcades below a round arch Figure 16.5. Unfinished capital of the choir arcade. (fig. 16.7). The arcades rested Photo by the author. on single or double columns. Excavations have shown that the cloister of Heisterbach had a rectangular layout extending another two bays to the south.50 Dating the cloister from the surviving capitals is difficult. The stone sculpture is of very high quality, but the reduction of stylistic details makes it almost impossible to classify it within the late Staufian architectural sculpture of the Rhine-Maas region.51 Judging from the recovered architectural remains the cloister was also built during the first half of the thirteenth century. Providing a precise date for the final phase of the construction work either from the architectural sculpture or from historic sources is difficult. The consecration of the altar of Three Kings in the sacristy in 1227 is usually seen as signalling the end of the building activities on the cloister.52 Sven H. Brunsch suggests two different dates, opting for 1233 without providing further explanation.53 Alternatively, he refers to Caesarius and his description of a night watch by the lay brother Albero: 48 

Keller, ‘Überlegungen zur Klausur’, pp. 229–30. Boisserée, Denkmale der Baukunst, pls 39 and 49. 50  Keller, ‘Monastery of Heisterbach’, pp. 98–99. 51  Kemper, Bauornamentik, p. 211; Kubach and Verbeek, Romanische Baukunst, p. 376. 52  Buchert, ‘Die ehemalige Klosterkirche Heisterbach’, p. 33. 53  Brunsch, Zisterzienserkloster Heisterbach, p. 53. 49 

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Figure 16.6. Plan of the abbey church and the claustral complex. Image by the author.

Albero conversus noster cum novicius esset, et nocte quadam cum alio converso propter timores nocturnos in curia vigilaret, ante signa matutinalia ambitum claustri circuiens, quasi umbram humanam eminus iuxta lavatorium conspexit.54 (When our conversus Albero still was a novice, he was keeping night watch against the terrors of the night with another conversus within the monastic courtyard. Walking the cloister before the sign of the morning bell, he observed a huge and almost human shadow next to the fountain house). 54 

Caesarius, Dialogus miraculorum, ed. and trans. by Nösges and Schneider, book  v, chap. 28.

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If Albero was facing the terrors of the night within the stone cloister (‘ambitu claustri’), where shadows lurked next to the fountain house (‘lavatorium’), the greater part of the construction of the claustral buildings must have been finished before 1220, when Caesarius was working on the fifth section of his Dialogus miraculorum.55 An even later date was proposed by Georg Schwarzbauer, who dated the construction of the cloister immediately after the final consecration of the abbey church in 1237 on the basis of close parallels with the cloister at Altenberg.56 The east range which incorporates the sacristy, chapter house, and other rooms was built in alignment with the southern transept. Its width was reduced south of the chapter house. The monks’ dormitory was located on the first floor and was probably extended over the eastern cloister alley, which was a common solution in the Rhineland region at that time. The dormitory had been completed when it collapsed in 1224.57 Due to wildlife conservation restrictions, little archaeo­logical work could be done within the east range. Doors leading from the church into the sacristy and from the cloister into a second room to the west (possibly the ‘armarium’) were excavated in 1986. The sacristy, which was not investigated further, was about 50 m2 and contained an altar dedicated to the Three Kings.58 The chapter house was partially demolished in 1736 which led to the need to transfer burials of some of the early abbots.59 When it was visited by Johannes von Schönebeck on 18 October 1784 he described the space as a rectangular room with two round pillars.60 Benches were running along the walls, while a throne-like seat was provided for the abbot. Judging from the 1804 assessment it was 103 m2, which in turn equalled the size of floor slabs offered for sale.61 Only the south-western corner of the chapter house was excavated in 2001. Unfortunately, the original floor level was not reached during the excavation. The southern end of the east range extended 11.7 m beyond the cloister terminating in line with the warming room to the west. The medi­eval structures were rebuilt several times and at one point a new day stairwell leading up to the 55 

Brunsch, Zisterzienserkloster Heisterbach, pp. 132–33. Schwarzbauer, Kapitelle des ehemaligen Zisterzienserklosters, p. 9. 57  Caesarius, Exempla, ed. by Hilka, p. 152, no. 215. 58  Duisburg, Landesarchiv NRW, Großherzogtum Berg, no. 8553, fol. 91v. 59  Kraus, ‘Beisetzung Dollendorfer Bürger’, p. 319. 60  Schönebeck, Mahlerische Reise am Nieder-Rhein, pp. 46–47. 61  Duisburg, Landesarchiv NRW, Großherzogtum Berg, no. 8553, fol. 92r. 56 

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dormitory was inserted. At the same time the internal layout of the rooms on ground-floor level was probably changed when the floor level was raised and new internal walls were constructed. It was possible to undertake far more research work on the south range. Opposite the fountain house the remains of the refectory were partially excavated. It was a large twoaisled room measuring at least 35.4 m × 15.1 m with its alignment turned by 90° to a north– south direction. The roof was Figure 16.7. Reconstruction of the cloister arcade. supported by at least four Source: Kubach and Verbeek, Romanische Baukunst, fig. 657. columns, the foundations of which were excavated. The surviving remains of the medi­eval west range consisted only of several large vaults that were used as the cellarer’s stores. The stores extended from underneath the western end of the abbey church, where there were access doors from the north and via a steep and rather narrow staircase in between the church and the west range. Another western door gave access to the cellar underneath the lay brothers’ quarters and the western cloister. Only one of the massive pillars supporting the groined vaults was excavated due to the depth of the trenches (fig. 16.8). The ground floor seems to have consisted only of a long, rather narrow corridor-like room. If compared to other Cistercian monasteries, this could not have been used as a refectory for the lay brothers or the cellarer’s room as it lacks the necessary space. It could just have been a corridor connecting the church with a building at the south-western corner of the cloister. This rather uncommon arrangement can be found at the Cistercian monastery of Haina.62 To date only the remains of the cloister can be dated by means of the architectural remains surviving both in situ and in different museum collections. They are all contemporary with those of the abbey church and it seems likely that the entire claustral complex was finished in the same timeframe as that of the 62 

Friedrich, Kloster Haina, pp. 65–66, 83.

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Figure 16.8. Remains of the cellar below the claustral west wing. Photo by the author.

Figure 16.9. Door frame made for Heisterbach Abbey in 1706. Today it is reused in a private building in the nearby village of Oberdollendorf. Photo by the author.

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church. We know from the documentary sources that the abbey suffered from economic difficulties and lawsuits from around 1250 onwards. Finally, in 1270, the general chapter at Cîteaux imposed an interdict on the abbey for failing to repay outstanding debts.63 Even under the strict control and supervision of the abbots of Himmerod and Clairvaux it took almost another one hundred years to set up internal reforms and regain an economic basis sufficient to support the abbey. One way to reduce expenditure was to restrict the number of choir monks to thirty-nine, and of lay brethren to fifteen, which was ordered by the father abbot of Himmerod in 1357.64 This new economic stability provided necessary resources for remodelling the claustral area. These building activities were hitherto unknown and were discovered only through archaeo­logical excavation. The old refectory was demolished and a new one was built in parallel to the cloister south alley and in line with the south gable of the east range and the neighbouring warming room. In addition, a large building complex was built to the west of the church and cloister that probably functioned as an abbot’s house.65

The Eighteenth-Century Building Phase The destruction of most of the monastic buildings during the Co­logne War (1583–88) on 22 May 1588 led to a long and painstaking process of repair and rebuilding, which lasted until the middle of the seventeenth century.66 When strict observance and spirituality returned to the abbey at the beginning of the eighteenth century, the abbey prospered once again. This enabled abbot Ferdinand Hartmann and his successors to rebuild the abbey and the adjacent farm. The cloister, the south range, and the abbot’s house were connected by means of new wings built in between them. Fitting new doors and window frames into the medi­eval buildings gave the entire claustral complex a baroque appearance (fig. 16.9). The new buildings surrounded a new courtyard sometimes called the ‘small or lesser cloister’.67 To the south the steep grounds on the south end of the abbey precinct were terraced to build a formal garden decorated with a fountain and several stone pillars and statues. 63 

Brunsch, Zisterzienserkloster Heisterbach, pp. 59–71. Brunsch, Zisterzienserkloster Heisterbach, pp. 76–77. 65  Keller, ‘Monastery of Heisterbach’, pp. 104–05. 66  Jongelinus, Notitiae abbatiarum ordinis cistertiensis, p. 37. 67  Duisburg, Landesarchiv NRW, Großherzogtum Berg, no. 8553. 64 

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After the dissolution of the monastery in 1803 the church and the monastic buildings were demolished, before the abbey farm with all the abbey grounds was sold to the Prince Ernst zur Lippe-Biesterfeld. He ordered the removal of the last ruins of the claustral buildings and the western end of the abbey church to have an English-style landscape park built on the site. 68 Today, only the ruined choir of the abbey church remains as the last reminder of this important Cistercian monastery in the diocese of Co­logne.

Conclusion The combination of historic sources with results from archaeo­logical excavations conducted between 2008 and 2011 have provided new insights into the Cistercian monastery of Heisterbach. It was founded relatively late at the end of the twelfth century as an attempt by Philipp, archbishop of Co­logne, to protect his territory against rival powers such as the counts of Sayn. Within the densely settled landscape of the Siebengebirge region the Cistercian monks had to interact with a large number of lay and ecclesiastic landowners to acquire suitable lands to transfer the abbey from its original setting on the Petersberg Mountain to a more suitable location at the nearby Heisterbach Valley. Evidence from historic deeds and charters as well as stories conveyed by Caesarius of Heisterbach provide information on these early years of Heisterbach. Archaeo­logical excavations have discovered the layout of the monastery of the early thirteenth century. The efforts made by the monks to clear a suitable building space within the steep-cut valley were revealed by these excavations. Large vaulted substructures, later used as stores and cellars, had to be built to support parts of the church and the west wing of the cloister. The surrounding area was levelled and the ground was raised by up to 5 m prior to the construction of the cloister and the attached buildings. While the abbey church remained unchanged, the claustral buildings were altered several times until the final rebuilding phase of the eighteenth century. Some of these building activities such as the construction of an abbot’s lodge and the rebuilding of the south wing with the refectory during the fourteenth century were also only discovered during the excavations. In addition, evidence for pewter casting, smithing, and tile production within the monastic precinct were found, thus increasing considerably our knowledge about the construction and economic activities of the monastery at Heisterbach in late medi­eval times and later. 68 

Detmold, Schloß Detmold, Biesterfelder Archiv, no. 1913.

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Works Cited Manu­scripts and Archival Sources Detmold, Schloß Detmold, Biesterfelder Archiv, no. 1913 Duisburg, Landesarchiv Landesarchiv Nordrhein-Westfalen, Großherzogtum Berg, no. 938 —— , Großherzogtum Berg, no. 8553 —— , Jülich-Berg II, no. 6160 —— , Karten, 8036

Primary Sources Caesarius von Heisterbach, Exempla, in Die Wundergeschichten des Caesarius von Heister­ bach, i: Einleitung, Exempla und Auszüge aus den Predigten des Caesarius von Heisterbach, ed. by Alfons Hilka, Publikationen der Gesellschaft für Rheinische Ge­schichts­kunde, 43.1 (Bonn: Peter Hansteins Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1933), pp. 63–188 —— , Dialogus miraculorum, ed. and trans. by Nikolaus Nösges and Horst Schneider, Fontes Christiani, 86 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009) Ex gestis sanctorum Villariensium, ed.  by Georg Waitz, in Monumenta Germaniae historica: Scriptores, 25 (Hannover: Hahn, 1880), pp. 220–35 Jongelinus, Gaspar, Notitiae abbatiarum ordinis cistertiensis per universum orbem: Liber II continens fundationes abbatiarum Sacri Romani Imperii (Co­logne: Joannes Hen­ning­ ius, 1640) Urkundenbuch der Abtei Heisterbach, ed. by Ferdinand Schmitz, Urkundenbücher der geist­ lichen Stiftungen des Niederrheins, 2 (Bonn: Peter Hanstein, 1908)

Secondary Works Boisserée, Sulpiz, Denkmale der Baukunst vom 7ten bis zum 13ten Jahrhundert am NiederRhein (Munich: Cotta, 1833) Brunsch, Sven H., Das Zisterzienserkloster Heisterbach von seiner Gründung bis zum Anfang des 16. Jahrhunderts, Bonner Historische Forschungen, 58 (Siegburg: Rheinlandia, 1998) Buchert, Margitta M., ‘Der Petersberg vom 12. bis 18. Jahrhundert’, Bonner Jahrbücher, 182 (1982), 441–48 —— , ‘Die ehemalige Klosterkirche Heisterbach: Beiträge zur Rekonstruktion und Deutung einer niederrheinischen Zisterzienserkirche aus der ersten Hälfte des 13. Jahrhunderts’ (doctoral thesis, Rheinische Friedrich-Wilhelms Universität, 1986) Flurschütz da Cruc, Andreas, ‘Die Unterwerfung Philipps von Köln 1188 und ihre Hinter­ gründe’, Annalen des Historischen Vereins für den Niederrhein, 214 (2011), 35–58 Frank, Klaus, ‘Überraschung am Fuß des Petersbergs’, in 25 Jahre Archäo­logie im Rhein­ land, 1987–2011 (Stuttgart: Theiss, 2012), pp. 73–75 Friedrich, Arnd, Kloster Haina (Königstein: Langewiesche, 1987)

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Halbekann, Joachim J., Die älteren Grafen von Sayn: Personen-, Verfassungs- und Besitz­ geschichte eines rheinischen Grafengeschlechts 1139–1246/47, Veröffentlichungen der Historischen Kommission für Nassau, 61 (Wiesbaden: Historische Kommission für Nassau, 1997) Joachim, Hans-Eckart, ‘Die Ausgrabungen auf dem Petersberg bei Königswinter, RheinSieg-Kreis’, Bonner Jahrbücher, 182 (1982), 393–439 Kallen, Gerhard, ‘Philipp von Heinsberg. Erzbischof von Köln (1167–1191)’, in Philipp von Heinsberg: Erzbischof und Reichskanzler (1167–1191), ed.  by Severin Corsten and Leo Gillessen, Museumsschriften des Kreises Heinsberg, 12 (Heinsberg: Kreis Heinsberg Kreismuseum, 1991), pp. 33–53 Keller, Christoph, Kloster Heisterbach in Königswinter, Rheinische Kunststätten, 505 (Co­logne: Rheinischer Verein für Denkmalpflege und Landschaftsschutz, 2008) —— , ‘Wasserversorgung im Zisterzienserkloster Heisterbach’, Archäo­logie im Rheinland, 2008 (2009), 142–44 —— , ‘The Monastery of Heisterbach between Romanesque and Baroque. Results from the 2009 Excavations’, Novi monasterii, 9 (2010), 93–109 —— , ‘Überlegungen zur Klausur des Klosters Heisterbach im Mittel­alter’, Analecta Cis­ terciensia, 61 (2011), 222–51 —— , ‘Steine für Heisterbach. Zum Baumaterial der mittel­alterlichen und neuzeitlichen Klausurgebäude’, Heimatblätter des Rhein-Sieg-Kreises, 82 (2014), 10–29 Kemper, Dorothee, Bauornamentik des 11. bis 15. Jahrhunderts im Rheinischen Landes­ museum Bonn, Kataloge des Rheinischen Landesmuseums Bonn, 10 (Wiesbaden: Reichert, 2003) Kinder, Terryl N., ‘Architecture of the Cistercian Abbey of Pontigny. The TwelfthCentury Church’ (unpublished doctoral thesis, Indiana Uni­ver­sity, 1982) Kraus, Gottfried, ‘Bericht zur Beisetzung Dollendorfer Bürger in Kirche und Kapitelsaal von Heisterbach’, in Oberdollendorf und Römlinghoven: Ein Festbuch, ed. by Manfred van Rey (Alfter: Zimnoch, 1986), pp. 308–20 Kubach, Hans-Erich, and Albert Verbeek, Romanische Baukunst an Rhein und Maas, i: Katalog der vorromanischen und romanischen Denkmäler A–K (Berlin: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 1976) Maaßen, German H. C., Geschichte der Pfarreien des Dekanates Königswinter, Geschichte der Pfarreien der Erzdiöcese Köln, 28 (Co­logne: Bachem, 1890) Neininger, Falko, Abt Heinrich I. von Heisterbach: Gründung und frühe Blüte der Abtei Heisterbach (Königswinter: Stiftung Abtei Heisterbach, 1991) Schönebeck, Johann B.  C. von, Mahlerische Reise am Nieder-Rhein: Merkwürdigkeiten der Natur und Kunst aus den Gegenden des Nieder-Rheins, i (Nuremberg: Weigel and Schneider, 1784) Schulze, Jörg, Manfred Rech, and Maria Wolters, ‘Die Klosterkirche der ehemaligen Zisterzienserabtei in Heisterbach’, Jahrbuch der Rheinischen Denkmalpflege, 34 (1992), 91–120 Schwarzbauer, Georg F., Kapitelle des ehemaligen Zisterzienserklosters Altenberg (Bergisch Glad­bach: Altenberger Domverein, c. 1965)

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Stadt Königswinter, ed., Zisterzienser und Heisterbach: Spuren und Erinnerungen, Schriften des Rheinischen Museumsamtes, 15 (Bonn: Rheinland-Verlag, 1980) Untermann, Mathias, Forma ordinis: Die mittel­alterliche Baukunst der Zisterzienser, Kunstwissenschaftliche Studien, 89 (Berlin: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2001) Verbeek, Albert, ‘Alte Ansichten von Heisterbach’, in Beiträge zur rheinischen Kunst­ geschichte und Denkmalpflege, Kunstdenkmäler des Rheinlandes Beiheft, 16 (Düsseldorf: Schwann, 1970), pp. 304–42

The Landholding and Landscape Exploitation of Coupar Angus Abbey: Granges and Glenisla Victoria Hodgson

T

he Scottish Cistercian abbey of Coupar Angus was founded by King Malcolm  IV in 1164. Throughout the following centuries, the house amassed an extensive and varied portfolio of landed property, firmly establishing itself as a major landowner. While the extant evidence is fragmentary, the manner in which these estates were exploited by the abbey can be explored through charters which record landscape features and rights, and also through instructions issued to Coupar’s tenants, preserved in a series of later medi­eval rental records. The possession of substantial estates was a necessity in order for monasteries to support themselves, but Cistercian houses also had a strong interest in expansion and were variously involved in the trade of surplus produce such as grain, wool, and hides. These economic pursuits were intimately linked to the spiritual duties of an abbey for the glory of God; the order’s own propagandizing representation of itself was thus as ‘God’s frontiersmen’, pioneers toiling in the wilderness to ‘make the desert bloom’. This image has been subject to serious challenges and revision by historians in recent years, but the general notion of a distinctively Cistercian, centrally-directed, economic model of landholding and resource management, based on the grange system, persists in much of the historio­graphy. As argued by Richard Oram, this is something for which there is little evidence of adherence to with regards Victoria Hodgson ([email protected]) is a Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the Uni­ver­ sity of Stirling and part-time Lecturer at the Uni­ver­sity of the Highlands and Islands.

Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 431–450 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117273

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to Scottish abbeys.1 The success of a large monastic house like Coupar was dependent upon the effective running of its landed affairs and so it is essential that these management approaches are identified and, where appropriate, traditional assumptions questioned. Of particular interest is Coupar’s large estate in Glenisla, a region located roughly fifteen miles north of the house itself, which was as closely managed and carefully exploited as any of the abbey’s granges.

Land Acquisition and Consolidation The grange system is commonly regarded as the defining element of Cistercian agricultural practice. The clear expectation that granges would feature prominently in the pattern of landholding of the abbey of Coupar is evident from the earliest charters pertaining to the house. The king’s initial landed endowment included three grange sites, at Balbrogie, Tullyfergus, and Drimmie, and it was declared that all of the abbey’s granges were to have the same peace as the abbey itself.2 The traditional historio­graphical representation of a Cistercian grange is of a large, consolidated holding devoted to some form of mixed husbandry, predominantly arable cultivation, and worked by the conversi, a class of lay brethren. In highlighting the innovative nature of this system, historians have drawn a sharp distinction between grange agriculture and other structures of land exploitation. Writing in 1936, T. A. M. Bishop considered monastic granges to be unlike any contemporary form of landholding in northern England, their creation obliterating all previous distinctions in tenure or agricultural organization in a process that was ‘alien’ to traditional rural development.3 Half a century later, Constance Berman echoed this sentiment with regards to southern France; the creation of a system of large granges, she argued, involved the total reorganization of the land-tenure system, transforming the rural economy which had preceded them and effecting ‘as complete a transformation as any clearance of forest or drainage of swamp would have been’.4 Of course, not all land in Cistercian possession was incorporated into granges; the logical inference is that these ‘outlying’ properties must be inherently different to granges held by the same houses in the ways they were exploited and managed. In R. A. Donkin’s view, the principal factors which distinguished a grange from other properties were size and degree of consoli1 

Oram, ‘Holy Frontiersmen?’; Oram, ‘A Fit and Ample Endowment?’. Acts of Malcolm IV, ed. by Barrow, nos 222, 226, 282. 3  Bishop, ‘The Monastic Grange in Yorkshire’, pp. 199–201. 4  Berman, Medi­eval Agriculture, pp. 40, 53. 2 

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dation ‘relative to the monastery’s estates as a whole and possibly to other, neighbouring tenements’.5 Indeed, the importance of large, compact holdings in the Cistercian economy is frequently emphasized by historians.6 The creation of such properties was a process of development involving the gradual acquisition and reorganization of land and rights, an approach referred to by Berman, respectively, as ‘horizontal’ and ‘vertical’ compacting. Thus, ‘what was described as a grange was often a grange in the making’ and King Malcolm’s grant to Coupar of the ‘granges’ of Balbrogie, Tullyfergus, and Drimmie was undoubtedly a statement of intent rather than a description of reality.7 At Balbrogie, the original holding was expanded eastwards by a grant of Simon, son of Euard, of the land between Balbrogie and Meigle. Access to peat for the working of the grange was gained around the turn of the thirteenth century when Michael of Meigle granted the rights of half of his marsh and, a century later, another Michael of Meigle, lord of the same, granted free passage through his lands for the abbey’s men with their goods.8 While the monks’ property at Drimmie was extended by King William through a grant of two ploughgates in the territory of Rattray, the whole land of Drimmie was divided into three parts, Easter, Middle, and Wester, and King Malcolm’s grant to Coupar consisted of Wester Drimmie only. At the turn of the fourteenth century, the abbey was making moves to rectify this. A lease from Adam of Glenballoch quickly became a donation of the remaining ‘two Drimmies’ in his possession, Easter and Middle, along with free transit through his land which likely facilitated access between Drimmie and Tullyfergus.9 Elsewhere, grange sites originating from both royal and noble initial donations were likewise assembled in this manner as Coupar amassed a portfolio of complementary land grants and rights of pasture, fuel, and free transit.10 5 

Donkin, The Cistercians, p. 63. For example see: Berman, Medi­eval Agriculture, pp. 43, 49–50, 61, 75–79; Bishop, ‘Monastic Granges’, pp. 199–202; Burton and Kerr, The Cistercians in the Middle Ages, pp. 167–69; Jamroziak, The Cistercian Order, pp. 183, 189; Wardrop, Fountains Abbey, pp. 55, 67–69. 7  Berman, Medi­eval Agriculture, pp. 43–47; Burton and Kerr, The Cistercians in the Middle Ages, p. 170. 8  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed.  by Easson, XVI, LXXXVIII; Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 343. 9  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed.  by Easson, XXXIV, LXVI, LXIX, LXXIII; Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 122, 123, 167, 197–98, 324–25; ii, 55–56, 129–30, 130–31, 132–34; Acts of William I, ed. by Barrow, no. 222; Acts of Robert I, ed. by Duncan, no. 3; Rogers, ‘Formation of the Parish Unit’, p. 194 n. 68. 10  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, XI, XXI, XXX, XXXI, XXXV, XXXVII 6 

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But this process is also clearly evident for another of the abbey’s properties which lay outside of the grange system; in Glenisla, the abbey actively expanded and consolidated its interests over the course of several centuries, creating a vast, but self-contained, holding. In 1233, to mark the occasion of the dedication of the church of Coupar, Alexander II granted a large stretch of land to the east of the River Isla, consisting of Bellaty, Freuchie, Craignity, and Inverharity, along with an initial foothold to the west at Forter. The following year, the monks were permitted free passage to these lands through the royal forest of Alyth.11 Significant expansion of this already largely condensed set of properties came in the early fourteenth century through numerous donations made by nobleman John of Kinross. His bequests of Doonies, Alrick, and Cammock saw the monks gain possession of the majority of the western bank, in addition to rights of free passage through John’s lands. Initially, however, the land of Auchinleish, which lay in amongst Coupar’s other Glenisla property, remained outside the control of the abbey. Seeking to remedy this plainly undesirable situation, the monks soon secured a grant of a half davoch of Auchinleish, completing their acquisition of the remaining land through a combination of purchase and donation.12 Several other Glenisla lands are recorded in Coupar’s possession for the first time in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; of these, Glenmarkie may have been a further purchase, though it seems likely that Dalvanie was a later subdivision of Forter. Kirkhillocks, Dalnacabok, and Pitlochrie, meanwhile, may represent the lands belonging to Glenisla parish church, which belonged to the abbey by this date.13 On 12 September 1311, an agreement was made between Coupar and Cambuskenneth Abbeys whereby the canons granted to Coupar the patronage of the church of Glenisla, with the lands and other rights belonging to it. In return, Coupar would pay a yearly pension of £10 from the church which had been assigned to Cambuskenneth by the late Gregory, bishop of XLII, XLVII, LVII, LXXI, LXXXII, LXXXIII, LXXXIX, XC, XCI, C; Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 336–37, 338, 340–41; Acts of William I, ed. by Barrow, nos 10, 148; Acts of Robert I, ed. by Duncan, no. 145; Neville, ‘Earls of Strathearn’, ii, 84–85, 187–98; Edinburgh, NRS, RH1/2/42. 11  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, XLI; Acts of Alexander II, ed. by Stringer, nos 196, 212. 12  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, LXX, LXXVI, LXXVII, LXXVIII, LXXIX, CXI, CXXXIX, CLII; Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 346–47; Acts of Robert I, ed. by Duncan, no. 316. 13  Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 285–86, 293.

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Brechin. At a date prior to 1404, Coupar had successfully converted this into full possession of the church.14 The abbey’s interest in the parish church, coinciding in date with the great expansion of their landed possessions, must be viewed as a facet of the policy of procurement and consolidation pursued in the area. Indeed, the monks engaged in the systematic acquisition of the churches of parishes in which all of their granges were located; the holding at Glenisla, a similarly large and important property, was no exception to this approach.15

The Labour Force: Monks, conversi, and Men In construction, size, and form, Coupar’s property in Glenisla bore a striking resemblance to a grange, but it was never referred to as such. A distinction, then, can perhaps be made in the nature of the labour force which worked these lands. Traditional accounts assert that Cistercian granges were worked by the conversi, at least until the decline of the lay brotherhood. The sparse references to Coupar’s lay brethren all appear in relation to the abbey’s granges, the latest dating to the early fourteenth century, and there is little doubt that their role was generally confined to them. In Glenisla, meanwhile, the transfer of an unfree, thirled peasantry into Coupar’s possession is seen in the grants made by Alexander II in 1233 which were stated to include ‘natiuis dictarum terrarum’ (natives of said lands). The importance of this labour resource to the abbey was demonstrated in 1248, when the king commanded the return of the fugitive neyfs of Glenisla to the monks, their rightful owners.16 The notion, however, that the conversi were ever the exclusive, or even principal, source of labour on Cistercian granges has been strongly challenged. Instead, it is argued, the lay brothers fulfilled supervisory roles, managing a lay labour force. These small groups of conversi overseers were headed by grange masters, who had overall 14 

Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, XCVI, CXXI; Registrum monasterii S. Marie de Cambuskenneth, ed. by Fraser, no. 105; Calendar of Papal Letters to Scotland of Benedict XIII, ed. by McGurk, 142. 15  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, XXVII, XXXII, XXXIII, CXIII, CXIV; Acts of Alexander II, ed. by Stringer, no. 48; Acts of Alexander III, ed. by Neville and Simpson, no. 327; Registrum de Dunfermelyn, ed. by Innes, no. 217. Calendar of Entries in the Papal Registers, ed. by Bliss, iii, no. 397. In the case of Errol, however, the monks of Coupar were forced to formally resign their rights in the church when James I granted its possession to the charterhouse at Perth (Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, CXXXI). 16  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, XLI; Acts of Alexander II, ed. by Stringer, nos 196, 322; Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 325–26.

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charge and responsibility for the general management.17 It was in this capacity that a lay brother, the ‘grangiarius conversus’, was acting in 1215 when he perished in a fire at one of Coupar’s granges.18 While the composition of Coupar’s labour force can only be determined via occasional glimpses in the sources, that the scenario posited above was indeed the case for the abbey’s granges does find support in the documentary evidence. A charter of William Hay, lord of Aithmuir, dating to around the turn of the fourteenth century, granted free passage through his land and specifically differentiated between ‘monachis, fratibus suis conversis, et eorum hominibus ac servientibus’ (the monks, their conversi brethren, and their men and servants).19 This grant was intended to allow access between Carsegrange and Coupar’s fisheries on the River Tay, suggesting that this passage would be required by such a variety of people, and that the inhabitants of the grange were thus composed. The situation was the same at the grange of Keithick, nearly a century earlier. In the early 1220s, the abbey received a grant of sixty cartloads of turf for the work of Keithick, to be received by the conversi of the grange ‘or their men’; a clear distinction was made between the lay brothers and the other workers.20 It can therefore be assumed that non-conversi labour was routinely employed on Coupar’s granges in the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries. It is probable that a number of these men were hired labourers, but the majority were most likely to have been the existing peasantry inhabiting the land acquired by the abbey. The lands which came into the possession of Coupar had long been organized into cultivated units of lordship and settlement and were clearly already populated by an agrarian community. The Cistercians, of course, have long carried a reputation as depopulators of land, but these accusations have come under criticism and, as Oram has identified, there is scant evidence of a policy of deliberate expulsion in Scotland. Coupar had therefore obtained ‘an established native labour force in the tenants of its lands’.21 Indeed, Cynthia Neville argues that Scottish monastic houses were anxious to secure sufficient peasant labour and that these requirements were met by their benefactors who ensured that human resources were among the assets of the lands which passed into their possession. We may assume, then, as has been suggested elsewhere, 17 

Platt, The Monastic Grange, pp. 76–93; Wright, ‘Casting down the Altars’, pp. 190–91. Melrose Chronicle, ed. by Stevenson, p. 43. 19  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, LXXXII. 20  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, XXX, XXXI; Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 342. 21  Oram, ‘Prayer, Property and Profit’, pp. 92–93. 18 

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that the majority of the peasant population, ‘tied to the abbey through its tenure of the land on which they lived and worked, continued in situ’, largely unaffected by property transfers between secular lords and monks.22 By the later medi­eval period, it is clear from the rental records that Coupar’s lands, grange or not, were subject to large-scale leasing. It can therefore be argued that, throughout the history of the abbey, no fundamental difference existed in the identity of the workforce of Glenisla, or any other lands outside of the grange system, in comparison to that of the abbey’s granges.

Resource Exploitation Of course, the presence of conversi overseers on the granges, at least until the fourteenth century, inherently implies the closer management of these properties and direction of their function. Much of the historio­g raphy considers Cistercian granges to be predominantly arable farms, perhaps a logical inference considering that the term grangia is derived from granary.23 Across Europe, however, Cistercian sites performing an extensive variety of functions, from horse breeding to wine or salt production, were all referred to as ‘granges’. As Platt states, it was the ‘physical character of the locality’ which was the primary factor in determining the nature of a grange.24 Even studies which acknowledge a degree of variation, however, emphasize the predominance of arable farming, something which the form of a grange holding is considered to be suited to. But in a Scottish context specifically, Oram has questioned, firstly, this interpretation of the function of the monastic grange and, secondly, the extent of cereal cultivation being undertaken by Cistercian monasteries considering the evidence that well-endowed, early establishments such as Melrose were supplementing a shortfall in their grain supply through substantial market purchases.25 22  Donkin, ‘Settlement and Depopulation on Cistercian Estates’; France, Separate but Equal, p. 25; Platt, The Monastic Grange, pp. 76–93; Wright, ‘Casting down the Altars’; Brown, ‘Stanley Abbey’, p. 227; Neville, Land, Law and People, pp. 160–61; Bezant, ‘Revising the Monastic Grange’, p. 67. 23  Adams, The Regional Diversification of Latin, p. 326; Berman, Medi­eval Agriculture, pp. 61–93; Donkin, The Cistercians, pp. 44, 63; Bishop, ‘Monastic Granges’; France, The Cistercians in Scandinavia, p. 257; Coppack, The White Monks, p. 97. 24  France, Separate but Equal, p. 116; Platt, The Monastic Grange, pp. 71–72; Wardrop, Fountains Abbey, p. 68; Burton and Kerr, The Cistercians in the Middle Ages, pp. 173–74; Burton, ‘The Estates and Economy of Rievaulx Abbey’, pp. 69–81. 25  Oram, ‘Holy Frontiersmen?’, pp. 113–20; Oram, ‘Prayer, Property and Profit’, pp. 92–93.

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That is certainly not to say that such crops were not produced on Coupar’s lands; one of the abbey’s ‘best granges’ was described as being full of grain when it caught fire in 1215, though presumably the narrower translation of grangia as a storehouse should be applied here.26 The assumption that arable production was the main function of Coupar’s granges, however, cannot be taken at face value. Instead, Coupar’s extensive involvement in the wool trade indicates that, as was the case for many other houses, to a large extent its lands must have been devoted to sheep farming and wool preparation. According to the notebook of the Italian merchant, Francesco Balducci Pegolotti, dating from around the turn of the fourteenth century, Coupar produced thirty sacks of wool annually, far more than Balmerino’s fourteen sacks, though lower than Melrose’s fifty. Working on the basis that a thousand sheep would produce four or five sacks of wool, this would place Coupar’s flock at around 7500, though this can be considered a highly conservative estimate since Pegolotti has been shown to have consistently underestimated levels of production. Moreover, while his figures suggest that Melrose’s flock numbered around 12,000 in c. 1300, export figures indicate that by the 1390s the figure was closer to 17,000, rising to 20,000 in the late 1420s.27 While the precise composition of Coupar’s grange lands cannot be ascertained, the documentary evidence reveals that access to pasture on and around Coupar’s granges was a key concern. At Drimmie, rights of pasture in the royal forest had been included in King Malcolm’s initial endowment of the abbey. The monks later also acquired possession of the common and terms of compensation for straying animals were agreed with a neighbouring landowner. Pasture rights for the livestock of Keithick were disputed and resolved, the settlement including a grant of sixty cartloads of turf for the work of the grange and free transit of wood through adjacent lands, both of which were likely utilized for the construction of farm buildings and enclosures. At Carsegrange, the monks secured pasture rights on the moor of Aithmuir, while the grant of Kincreich included the common pasture of Lour, the confirmation of which a century later referred to common right in the easements of the moor of ‘Munthgray’.28

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Melrose Chronicle, ed. by Stevenson, p. 43. Pegolotti figures quoted and discussed in Duncan, Scotland, p. 430; Oram, ‘A Fit and Ample Endowment?’, p. 70; McNeill and MacQueen, Atlas of Scottish History, p. 251. 28  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed.  by Easson, XI, XXX, XXXI, XLVII, LXV, LXVI, LXXIV; Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 342, 344, 345, 350; Acts of Malcolm IV, ed. by Barrow, no. 226. 27 

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Certain granges also performed industrial functions. Oram has argued that Scottish Cistercian houses may have been extensively involved in industrial tanning, as was the case in England and Wales; bark, which was used in the tanning process, was certainly specifically articulated among grants of forest easements made to the monks of Coupar.29 The presence of oxen at Carsegrange is shown by a mid-thirteenth-century donation of Gilbert Hay which granted the monks permission to transport the animals across his land and it is possible that the grant made by Alexander of Abernethy around the turn of the fourteenth century of twenty cartloads of peat to be received at Carsegrange was utilized as fuel for such a tannery.30 There is more concrete evidence for other types of industry taking place on Coupar’s granges, particularly in terms of the application of hydraulic power to such processes. Research has shown the Cistercians’ historio­graphical reputation for techno­logical advancement in this area to be an exaggeration, but that is not to say that the monks were not to some extent more enterprising in this capacity than their lay counterparts. Magnusson argues that the communication channels of the order, facilitated by its filiation networks and general chapter meetings, allowed for the diffusion of hydraulic techno­logy.31 The monks of Coupar had erected a fulling mill on Kincreich grange by the midthirteenth century. This was still in operation in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, by which time a fulling mill also stood at the grange of Keithick.32 Investment in industrial fulling was a logical move for Coupar; surplus wool, probably of lower quality and unsuitable for foreign trade, could be woven into cloth to be sold at nearby burghs. While the Scottish evidence is scant, the vast majority of industrial mills in England were fulling mills located within the vicinity of local markets, and the Cistercians were the most active of the monastic orders in such activities. In Wales, over half of the fulling mills on 29  Oram, ‘Prayer, Property and Profit’, pp.  92–93; Bond, Monastic Landscapes, pp. 323–24, 352–53; Acts of Malcolm IV, ed. by Barrow, no. 226; Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, XIII. 30  Edinburgh, NRS, RH1/2/42; Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 346. 31  Gimpel, The Medi­eval Machine; White, Machina ex deo, pp. 66–67; Magnusson, Water Techno­logy in the Middle Ages, pp. 13–14; Bond, Monastic Landscapes, p. 114; Lucas, Wind, Water, Work, pp. 254–55; Lucas, ‘Industrial Milling in the Ancient and Medi­e val Worlds’, p. 23; Bond, Monastic Landscapes, pp. 114–15; Magnusson, Water Techno­logy in the Middle Ages, pp. 11–13. 32  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, LX; Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 126, 141, 145, 148, 161, 204, 214; ii, 81–82, 201.

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ecclesiastical estates from the late fourteenth to early sixteenth centuries were held by Cistercian houses.33 It was on Coupar’s land in Glenisla, however, that the abbey’s greatest concentration of mills was found. The functioning of mills depended upon their water supplies and the holding in Glenisla thus presented excellent opportunities as the River Isla ran directly through it, rather than forming a boundary with the property of another landholder. The monks took full advantage of their exclusive control of a large portion of the river and established mills at Freuchie, Inverharity, and Pitlochrie. The mills of Freuchie and Inverharity were grain mills possessing rights of multure which legally tied the grain of particular land to certain mills, known as ‘suit of mill’.34 In contrast, even Coupar’s largest granges possessed no more than one grain mill and some none at all, perhaps suggesting that the extent of arable cultivation, and the consequent volume of grain requiring grinding, was highest in Glenisla. The mill at Pitlochrie, meanwhile, evidently assumed an industrial function. No multure payments were thirled to it and in the fifteenth century a mill in Glenisla and an associated fabrica was let to Donald Smith, a telling occupational surname. That this was indeed a smithy is revealed by references to the smith-land and the ‘smedy’ croft in Glenisla.35 Water-powered forges had been established at French Cistercian sites by the 1130s, while the Cistercians in England were familiar with the application of waterpower to smithing by the turn of the thirteenth century as ironworking complexes had been constructed at Kirkstall and Bordesley Abbeys.36

Forest Resources: Vert and Venison Another important facet of Coupar’s landed resource portfolio, and one which was not present for any of its granges, was the possession of ‘free forest’ rights and the opportunities this presented. Forest resources were strictly controlled in Scotland, particularly in royal forests where the king maintained a monopoly on hunting, hawking, wood-cutting, pasture, assarting, ploughing, industry, 33 

Lucas, Wind, Water, Work, p. 286; Lucas, ‘Industrial Milling in the Ancient and Medi­ eval Worlds’, p. 25; Lucas, ‘The Role of the Monasteries’, pp. 105–06. 34  Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, ii, 106–08, 175–77. 35  Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 226; ii, 200, 234, 253, 258. 36  Benoit and Rouillard, ‘Medi­e val Hydraulics in France’, p. 195; Hoffman, An Environmental History, p. 214; Holt, ‘Medi­eval England’s Water-Related Techno­logies’, p. 73; Lucas, Wind, Water, Work, pp. 251–52.

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and travel. It should be noted at this point that the term ‘forest’ was not synonymous with a recognizable area of woodland in a medi­eval context; a forest was an artificially-defined space, which may or may not have been wholly or partially wooded, where a set of legal rights to resources applied. From the reign of David I onwards, non-royal forests were created in Scotland through grants employing the charter termino­logy of liberum forestum (free forest). These forest grants entitled their recipients to the same rights the king held in a royal forest, encapsulated in the phrase ‘vert and venison’, along with the judicial power to enforce them.37 Coupar received two such grants, neither of them associated with grange lands. The first grant was of Campsie, granted by King William between 1173 and 1178.38 Here, the abbey’s concern for the strict preservation of timber resources is highly evident. That the forest was routinely utilized by Coupar in this manner from an early date is shown by a concession made to the monks in the early 1220s whereby wood could be freely transported through neighbouring lands.39 The later rental records reveal strict management of the forest at Campsie, something which is unsurprising considering the evidence of a serious timber shortage in Scotland, and indeed Europe, by the fifteenth century.40 Pressure on supplies prompted the enclosure of areas of forest from this date onwards; at Campsie, the abbey went as far as having walls constructed. Tenants were warned to ‘abstain from the forest in all ways’ under pain of ‘free forest’, and in 1460 such punishment was inflicted when the abbey’s court fined two men for the destruction and sale of the wood of Campsie.41 The monks also maintained stringent control of the abbey’s important salmon fisheries on the River Tay at Campsie, appointing their own fishermen who were stated to be at the command of the abbot, and for whose sustenance the tenants of Campsie were required to provide three bolls to each fisherman. Delivery of the fish to the abbey was carried out by a specifically designated cottar who lived on site

37 

Gilbert, Hunting and Hunting Reserves, pp. 19–20, 183–85, 190–91, 198, 204. The Acts of William I, Barrow, Regesta regum Scottorum, ii, no. 154; Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, II. For discussion of this grant in relation to the concept of ‘free forest’ see: Gilbert, Hunting and Hunting Reserves, pp. 184–85. 39  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, XXX, XXXI. 40  Smout, MacDonald, and Watson, A History of the Native Woodlands, pp. 37–39; Gilbert, Hunting and Hunting Reserves, pp. 191, 237. 41  Gilbert, Hunting and Hunting Reserves, p. 237; Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 130, 220–22, 227, 237, 242. 38 

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in the later-titled ‘cadgear croft’ at Campsie.42 Like Glenisla, Campsie was not a grange, but the high level of organization and involvement of the abbey in the systematic exploitation of this land is more than evident. The second area of land held by Coupar in free forest consisted of Alexander II’s 1233 grants in Glenisla of Bellaty, Freuchie, Craignity, and Inverharity on the western bank of the River Isla, along with Forter on the eastern side where a fifteenth-century lease referred to the acres belonging to the keeper of the forest.43 As discussed above, this embraced only a portion of the eventual extent of Coupar’s holdings in Glenisla. No mention of forest, woodland, or associated resources was made in the charters recording John of Kinross’s grants relating to the western bank, however their existence is certainly possible. Firstly, the place-name ‘Alrick’ is derived from the Gaelic eileirg meaning ‘deer trap’; the Alrick burn runs south-east across this piece of land towards the Isla, creating a natural run and trap which deer could be driven along and into.44 Secondly, before Coupar succeeded in acquiring possession of Auchinleish, John of Kinross made a grant of two marks of annual rent along with all his ‘right’ in this land. Both of the charters that mention this grant and the subsequent royal confirmations all make this rather cryptic reference to John’s ‘right’ but do not articulate the specifics, and it is possible that this could have referred to forest rights.45 That valuable resources existed on the lands of Auchinleish would explain John’s apparent reluctance to part with them despite his otherwise great generosity towards the abbey. Potentially, then, Glenisla was forested along both the eastern and western banks. Furthermore, the rental records reveal that Coupar’s forest resources stretched into the far north of Glenisla parish. A sixteenth-century lease of Dalvanie made by the abbey was stated to include the forests and glens of ‘Glasworybeg’ and ‘Glasworymoir’ on the west side. Shortly afterwards, a tenant of Dalvanie was charged with the keeping and forestership of ‘Glenbrauchty’ in return for a yearly payment of ten pounds. Indeed, a feu of the lands of Dalvanie and Craignity made to Nicholas Campbell in 1559 was stated to include all three of these forests with privileges and pastures. Later charters relating 42 

Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 121, 127, 222, 227, 274; ii, 181; Edinburgh, NRS, CH6/2/4; Dictionary of the Scots Language, s. v. Cadgear: An itinerant dealer in fish, etc.; a carrier of goods. 43  Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 157. 44  Watson, Place Names, p. 43. 45  Charters of Coupar Angus, ed. by Easson, LXXVIII, LXXIX; Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 347; Acts of Robert I, ed. by Duncan, nos 3, 97.

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to these lands refer to Glascorie and Glascoriebeg as being commonly called ‘Cainlochin’, lying in the most northerly portion of the parish of Glenisla. Glenbrighty, meanwhile, lay immediately to the south of Caelochan.46 Significantly, though, efforts to exploit the forest for timber resources are drastically less evident in Glenisla than Campsie. Instead, it would appear that hunting was taking place on these lands on a large scale. The sixteenth-century rental records reveal that tenants of all of Coupar’s lands in Glenisla were required to rear hunting dogs, most often a ‘leche of hounds’ and/or at least one ‘rache’, a type of scenting hound. Tenants were also instructed to be ready to provide service for hunting. It could be argued that hunting in Glenisla may have fulfilled a functional rather than recreational purpose; in many instances, the dogs were described as intended for ‘tod and wolf ’ and a reference to the tenants of Bellaty, Freuchie, and Glenmarkie being required to be ‘reddy at all tymes quhene we cherge thame to pas with ws or our bailzeis to the hountis’ perhaps suggests an intent other than sport.47 A parliamentary statute of 1458 ordained that sheriffs and bailies were to organize three hunts a year for the destruction of wolves with a reward for anyone who killed one.48 Wolves posed a threat to both the rural economy, particularly in terms of livestock, and to human life, and as such their pursuit by everyone was encouraged. Foxes were also an agricultural pest and therefore the purging of these animals bolstered the productivity of the landscape.49 Clauses relating to hunting provision by tenants, however, are only present in Coupar’s leases of Glenisla lands and are thus unique within the context of the abbey’s rental records, begging the question of what was distinctive about these lands in comparison to all other abbey estates. Indeed, the evidence indicates that hunting in Glenisla was taking place on a much larger, not to mention far more organized, scale than practical agricultural necessity would have dictated. The only evidence for an organized programme of horse breeding run by the abbey appears in Glenisla, which may have been intended to supply hunting parties. Tenants were required to accept and use the office of ‘stodhirdrie’ or 46 

Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, ii, 260–62, 267–68; Edinburgh, NRS, GD16/41/ 387, 420, 9/1; RPS, 1661/1/244. 47  Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, ii, 106–08, 175–77, 223–24, 250–51, 260–62; Edinburgh, NRS, CH 6/2/2, fols 70r–90v. 48  RPS, 1458/3/36. 49  RPS, 1458/3/36; Cummins, The Hound and the Hawk, pp. 132, 141; Gilbert, Hunting and Hunting Reserves, p. 232.

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‘stodhirdschip’, and a lease of Forter in 1470 stated that two acres were due for the studarius.50 At the turn of the sixteenth century, the abbey was involved in legal action against Alexander Gordon for withholding the prices of sixty horses and mares stolen from them and their tenants of the lands of Glenisla.51 Moreover, it may be that the demand for industrial smithing in Glenisla was generated by a need to supply the necessary hunting weapons and horseshoes. The eradication of foxes and wolves, then, may have had another purpose; elsewhere in Scotland, their control was associated with the protection of deer.52 The Accounts of the King’s Pursemaster reveal that in 1539–40 a payment of fourteen shillings was made to a servant of the abbot of Coupar who brought venison to the king’s grace, indicating that deer were being hunted somewhere on abbey lands.53 That it was taking place in Glenisla is shown by a decree of the court of the lord of Coupar held on 9 July 1608 which described statutes issued in the times of William Turnbull, Donald Campbell, and Leonard Leslie, abbots and a commendator of Coupar from the early sixteenth century onwards, putting in place a system of twelve watchmen to protect Glenisla from ‘thiefes, sorners and brokin men’ (thieves, extorters and lawless men).54 It is of great significance that the period during which these men would be required to maintain this watch was given as 10 June until 15 September: while hunting seasons are seldom mentioned in medi­e val Scottish sources, it is known that open season for harts and bucks occurred during the summer, the most popular months being July to September while the animals were ‘in grease’, that is carrying the most venison and fat. More specific dating information is available for medi­e val England, where the season began in June and usually ended on 14 September.55 Not only was deer hunting taking place on Coupar’s lands in Glenisla, but it was of such value as to warrant organized protection. In this context, it is reasonable to suggest that Coupar’s papal petition of 1496 for the right to excommunicate robbers and plunderers in Glenisla and up to four leagues around may have had more to do with the protection of the abbey’s hunt50  Edinburgh, NRS, CH 6/2/2, fols 70r–90v; Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, i, 157; Dictionary of the Scots Language, s. v. Stodhirdrye: the task of taking care of horses in a stud. 51  Acts of the Lords of Council, ed. by Neilson and Paton, ii, 353. 52  Cummins, The Hound and the Hawk, p. 62; Gilbert, Hunting and Hunting Reserves, p. 220. 53  Accounts of the King’s Pursemaster, ed. by Murray, p. 37. 54  Edinburgh, NRS, GD16/41/141. 55  Gilbert, Hunting and Hunting Reserves, pp. 67–68; Birrell, ‘Deer and Deer Farming’, pp. 122–23.

The Landholding and Landscape Exploitation of Coupar Angus Abbey 445

ing interests than with any purported concern for the welfare of a local chapel and the faithful.56 Evidently, later holders of Coupar’s Glenisla lands had similar problems with lawbreakers. Letters of free forestry raised on 8 March 1605 by James, master of Ogilvy, who had obtained possession of Forter, Dalvanie, and Craignity with the forests of Glenbrighty, Glascorie, and Glascoriebeg in the 1580s, complained that trespassers wrongly put their animals into these forests, destroyed the green wood, and hunted and slayed the deer, wild beasts, and venison therein.57 That these northern lands and forests had also been the abbey’s key hunting grounds is indicated by the obligation of the tenants of Dalvanie to maintain a residence, being instructed by the monks to: big and rais the vallis of the hall with sufficient lychtis, sustenand the sammin, and siklike the chalmer, puttand ane stane gawill with ane chymnay in it, with wthir howssis and asiamentis, ganand for ws at our sycht and dewyse (build and construct the walls of the hall with sufficient lighting, maintaining the same, and suchlike the chamber, installing a stone gable with a chimney in it, with other structures and easements, suitable for us in our oversight and design).58

This may be presumed to have been a hunting lodge and that the construction was in stone demonstrates the permanence of this structure. Dalvanie thus appears to have served as a gateway to the forests in the north of the parish, tenants being required to make common carriage ‘to our tymmir, huntting, and all vthir do seruice’ and to maintain a leiche of hounds to be kept ready for hunting ‘quhen we or our seruandis pleiss’.59 In England, the personal involvement of monastic houses in hunting activities is well documented, some even maintaining parks for this purpose. That hunting parties frequently travelled from Coupar to Glenisla is shown by the fact that tenants of the abbey’s land of ‘Bogside’, or Incheoch, at the foot of the glen, were under obligation to provide meat and drink to those undertaking the journey.60 It is doubtful, however, that venison was regularly served within Cistercian abbeys, other than on feast days or when important guests were present, and it has also been identified that it was not, as a rule, produced for com56 

Calendar of Entries in the Papal Registers, ed. by Bliss, XVI, no. 528. Edinburgh, NRS, GD16/7/13; Edinburgh, NRS, GD16/7/18; Edinburgh, NRS, GD16/9/2; Edinburgh, NRS, GD16/41/128; Edinburgh, NRS, GD16/41/131. 58  Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, ii, 260–62. 59  Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, ii, 195, 260–62. 60  Rental Book of Cupar, ed. by Rogers, ii, 42, 135–36, 200. 57 

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mercial markets.61 Instead, the chronicle evidence relating to English monasteries describes how houses used the sport to entertain distinguished visitors and encourage their goodwill towards the house.62 This was the true value of deer hunting to an abbey like Coupar which had both a responsibility and a desire to provide hospitality to royal and aristocratic guests as a way of currying favour and maintaining connections with the rich and powerful. These relationships were just as vital to the abbey’s success as its system of land management. In Glenisla, then, at least by the fifteenth century and quite possibly much earlier, Coupar was running a large-scale, self-sufficient hunting operation: the forest resources themselves were managed by designated foresters and tenants of the abbey, dogs and horses were kept and maintained on site, an industrial smithy produced the required metal goods, and at least one permanent hunting lodge was in place. This is unique in the context of the abbey’s landholding and thus sets Glenisla apart from all of Coupar’s other properties, including its granges. Possession and use of a hunting ground, though, is far from unique in the history of medi­e val Cistercian landholding and, furthermore, was not incompatible with the designation of ‘grange’: for example, the monks of Fountains Abbey held extensive forest rights at their grange of Brimham where an upland hunting lodge was located, visited frequently by the abbot in the mid-fifteenth century.63

Conclusion There can be little doubt that Coupar’s vast Glenisla estate was of immense value and importance at least equal to any, and likely superior to some, of the abbey’s granges. In focusing on the grange system and according it a position of pre-eminent importance in Cistercian landholding, there is a risk that the significance of properties which lay outside of it will go unrecognized and the level of sophistication in their exploitation will be underestimated. Moreover, the evidence relating to Coupar supports the findings concerning other Scottish Cistercian houses 61 

Bond, ‘Production and Consumption’, p.  82; Bond, Monastic Landscapes, p.  182; Kerr, ‘Cistercian Hospitality’, pp. 35–36; Burton and Kerr, The Cistercians in the Middle Ages, pp. 109–16; Williams, The Welsh Cistercians, pp. 225–27; Birrell, ‘Deer and Deer Farming’, pp. 114–15. 62  Bond, Monastic Landscapes, pp. 172–73. 63  Platt, The Monastic Grange, pp. 71–72, 192; Wardrop, Fountains Abbey, p. 109. Game was also hunted on granges belonging to Cwmhir Abbey (Williams, ‘The White Monks in Powys I’, pp. 94–95).

The Landholding and Landscape Exploitation of Coupar Angus Abbey 447

and their divergence from what are traditionally accepted models of grange organization and function. In this context, it is extremely difficult to draw any kind of categorizing line between an actively expanded and consolidated property such as that in Glenisla, strictly managed and fulfilling highly specialized functions, and any of the granges belonging to Coupar Angus Abbey.

Works Cited Manu­scripts and Archival Sources Edinburgh, National Records of Scotland, CH 6/2 Church Records: Cartularies, Coupar Angus 2 —— , GD 16 Papers of the Earls of Airlie 7/13, 7/18, 9/1, 9/2, 41/128, 41/131, 41/141, 41/387, 41/420 —— , RH 1/2 Transcripts and Photocopies of Miscellaneous Charters and Papers 42

Primary Sources Accounts of the King’s Pursemaster, 1539–40, ed. by Athol L. Murray, Miscellany of the Scottish History Society, 10 (Edinburgh: Scottish History Society, 1965) The Acts of Alexander II, ed. by Keith J. Stringer, Regesta regum Scottorum, 3 (forthcoming) The Acts of Alexander III, ed. by Cynthia J. Neville and Grant. G. Simpson, Regesta regum Scottorum, 4.1 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni­ver­sity Press, 2013) The Acts of Malcolm  IV, ed.  by Geoffrey W.  S. Barrow, Regesta regum Scottorum, 1 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni­ver­sity Press, 1971) The Acts of Robert  I, ed.  by Archibald A.  M. Duncan, Regesta regum Scottorum, 5 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni­ver­sity Press, 1988) Acts of the Lords of Council in Civil Causes, ii: 1496–1501, ed. by George Neilson and Henry Paton (Edinburgh: HMSO, 1918) The Acts of William  I, ed.  by Geoffrey W.  S. Barrow, Regesta regum Scottorum, 2 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni­ver­sity Press, 1971) Calendar of Entries in the Papal Registers Relating to Great Britain and Ireland: Papal Letters, ed. by William H. Bliss and others, 19 vols (London: HMSO, 1983–60) Calendar of Papal Letters to Scotland of Benedict  XIII of Avignon, 1394–1419, ed.  by Francis McGurk (Edinburgh: Scottish History Society, 1976) Charters of the Abbey of Coupar Angus, ed. by David E. Easson, 2 vols (Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, 1947) Dictionary of the Scots Language, Scottish Language Dictionaries [accessed 27 February 2016] A Medi­eval Chronicle of Scotland: The Chronicle of Melrose, ed. by Joseph Stevenson (Lampeter: Llanerch, 1991)

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The Records of the Parliaments of Scotland to 1707, ed.  by Keith M. Brown and others (St  Andrews: Uni­ver­sity of St Andrews, 2007–16) [ac­ cessed 27 February 2016] [RPS] Registrum de Dunfermelyn: Liber cartarum abbatie Benedictine S.S.  Trinitatis et B.  Margarete Regine de Dunfermelyn, ed.  by Cosmo Innes (Edinburgh: Bannatyne Club, 1842) Registrum monasterii  S. Marie de Cambuskenneth, ed.  by William Fraser (Edinburgh: Gram­pian Club, 1872) Rental Book of the Cistercian Abbey of Cupar-Angus, ed. by Charles Rogers, 2 vols (London: Grampian Club, 1879)

Secondary Works Adams, James  N., The Regional Diversification of Latin, 200BC–AD600 (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 2007) Benoit, Paul, and Joséphine Rouillard, ‘Medi­eval Hydraulics in France’, in Working with Water in Medi­eval Europe, ed. by Paolo Squatriti, Techno­logy and Change in History, 3 (Leiden: Brill, 2000), pp. 161–215 Berman, Constance Hoffman, Medi­eval Agriculture, the Southern French Countryside, and the Early Cistercians: A Study of Forty-Three Monasteries (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1986) Bezant, Jemma, ‘Revising the Monastic “Grange”: Problems at the Edge of the Cistercian World’, Journal of Medi­eval Monastic Studies, 3 (2014), 51–70 Birrell, Jean, ‘Deer and Deer Farming in Medi­eval England’, Agricultural History Review, 40 (1992), 112–26 Bishop, T. A. M., ‘Monastic Granges in Yorkshire’, The English Historical Review, 51 (1936), 193–214 Bond, James, ‘Production and Consumption of Food and Drink in the Medi­eval Monastery’, in Monastic Archaeo­logy: Papers on the Study of Medi­eval Monasteries, ed. by Graham Keevill and others (Oxford: Oxbow, 2001), pp. 54–87 —— , Monastic Landscapes (Stroud: Tempus, 2004) Brown, Graham, ‘Stanley Abbey and its Estates, 1151–c.  1640’ (unpublished doctoral thesis, Uni­ver­sity of Leicester, 2011) Burton, Janet, ‘The Estates and Economy of Rievaulx Abbey in Yorkshire’,  Cîteaux,  49 (1998), 29–94 Burton, Janet, and Julie Kerr, The Cistercians in the Middle Ages (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2011) Coppack, Glyn, The White Monks: The Cistercians in Britain, 1128–1540 (Stroud: Tempus, 1998) Cummins, John, The Hound and the Hawk: The Art of Medi­eval Hunting (London: Phoenix, 2001) Donkin, Robin  A., ‘Settlement and Depopulation on Cistercian Estates during the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries, Especially in Yorkshire’, Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research, 33 (1960), 141–65

The Landholding and Landscape Exploitation of Coupar Angus Abbey 449 —— , The Cistercians: Studies in the Geo­graphy of Medi­eval England and Wales (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1978) Duncan, Archibald A. M, Scotland: The Making of the Kingdom (Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd, 1978) France, James, The Cistercians in Scandinavia (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1992) —— , Separate but Equal: Cistercian Lay Brothers, 1120–1350 (Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 2012) Gilbert, John M., Hunting and Hunting Reserves in Medi­eval Scotland (Edinburgh: John Donald, 1979) Gimpel, Jean, The Medi­eval Machine: The Industrial Revolution of the Middle Ages (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1976) Hoffmann, Richard C., An Environmental History of Medi­eval Europe (Cam­bridge: Cam­ bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 2014) Holt, Richard, ‘Medi­eval England’s Water-Related Techno­logies’, in Working with Water in Medi­eval Europe, ed. by Paolo Squatriti (Leiden: Brill, 2000), pp. 51–100 Jamroziak, Emilia, The Cistercian Order in Medi­eval Europe, 1090–1500 (London: Rout­ ledge, 2013) Kerr, Julie, ‘Cistercian Hospitality in the Later Middle Ages’, in Monasteries and Society in the British Isles in the Later Middle Ages, ed. by Janet Burton and others (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2008), pp. 25–39 Lucas, Adam, ‘Industrial Milling in the Ancient and Medi­eval Worlds: A Survey of the Evidence for an Industrial Revolution in Medi­eval Europe’, Techno­logy and Culture, 46 (2005), 1–30 —— , ‘The Role of the Monasteries in the Development of Medi­eval Milling’, in Wind and Water in the Middle Ages: Fluid Techno­logies from Antiquity to the Renaissance, ed. by Steven Walton (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medi­eval and Renaissance Studies Press, 2006), pp. 89–128 —— , Wind, Water, Work: Ancient and Medi­eval Milling Techno­logy (Leiden: Brill, 2006) Magnusson, Roberta J., Water Techno­logy in the Middle Ages: Cities, Monasteries and Water­works after the Roman Empire (Baltimore: John Hopkins Uni­ver­sity Press, 2001) McNeill, Peter G.  B., and Hector  L. MacQueen, Atlas of Scottish History to 1707 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni­ver­sity Press, 1996) Neville, Cynthia J., ‘The Earls of Strathearn from the Twelfth to the Mid-Fourteenth Century, with an Edition of their Written Acts’ (unpublished doctoral thesis, Uni­ver­ sity of Aberdeen, 1983) —— , Land, Law and People in Medi­eval Scotland (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni­ver­sity Press, 2010) Oram, Richard D., ‘Prayer, Property and Profit: Scottish Monasteries c. 1100–c. 1300’, in Scottish Power Centres from the Early Middle Ages to the Twentieth Century, ed. by Sally Foster and others (Glasgow: Cruithne, 1998), pp. 79–99 —— , ‘A Fit and Ample Endowment? The Balmerino Estate, 1228–1603’, in Life on the Edge: The Cistercian Abbey of Balmerino, Fife (Scotland), ed. by Richard D. Oram and others, Cîteaux: Commentarii Cisterciensis, 59 (Pontigny: Cîteaux, 2008), pp. 61–80

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—— , ‘Holy Frontiersmen? Twelfth- and Early Thirteenth-Century Monastic Colonisation and Socio-Economic Change in Poland and Scotland’, in Britain and Poland-Lithu­ ania: Contact and Comparison from the Middle Ages to 1795, ed. by Richard Unger (Leiden: Brill, 2008), pp. 103–22 Platt, Colin, The Monastic Grange in Medi­eval England: A Reassessment (London: Mac­ millan, 1969) Rogers, Malcolm John, ‘The Formation of the Parish Unit and Community in Perthshire’ (unpublished doctoral thesis, Uni­ver­sity of Edinburgh, 1992) Smout, Thomas C., Alan  R. MacDonald, and Fiona Watson, A  History of the Native Woodlands of Scotland, 1500–1920 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni­ver­sity Press, 2005) Wardrop, Joan, Fountains Abbey and its Benefactors, 1132–1300 (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1987) Watson, Adam, Place Names in Much of Northeast Scotland: Hill, Glen, Lowland, Coast, Sea, Folk (Rothersthorpe: Paragon, 2013) White, Lynn Jr., Machina ex deo: Essays in the Dynamism of Western Culture (Cam­bridge, MA: MIT Press, 1968) Williams, David H., ‘The White Monks in Powys I’, Cistercians Studies, 11 (1976), 155–91 —— , The Welsh Cistercians: Written to Commemorate the Centenary of the Death of Stephen William Williams (1837–1899) (Leominster: Gracewing, 2001) Wright, Robert, ‘“Casting down the Altars and Levelling Everything before the Plough­ share?” The Expansion and Evolution of the Grange Estates of Kirkstall Abbey’, in Thirteenth-Century England, ix: Proceedings of the Durham Conference, 2001, ed. by M. Prestwich and others (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2003), pp. 187–200

This Belongs to Us! Competition between the Royal Burgh of Stirling and the Augustinian Abbey of Cambuskenneth over Salmon Fishing Rights on the River Forth, Scotland* Richard C. Hoffmann and Alasdair Ross

I

n summer 1365, probably early July, an act of violence occurred on the River Forth beside the royal burgh of Stirling, Scotland. Thirty-one named burgesses, eight of them piscatores (fishers), attacked and smashed the cruives (fixed weirs) and fishing facilities on the River Forth which belonged to the Augustinian abbey of Cambuskenneth, dedicated to the Virgin Mary. Early July also coincides with the feast of the Visitation of the Virgin Mary (2 July) and so perhaps the inhabitants of the burgh struck on a day when the abbey and its tenants would naturally have been preoccupied with other matters.1 The effect of a royal and parliamentary order of 27 July directing the burgh to make good the damages within forty days was at least partly ignored; there are no further references to a fixed fish weir in any of the abbey records and a  

* This paper is a product of Leverhulme award ref: VP2–2010-032. The Records of the Parliaments of Scotland to 1707, ed. by Brown and others, 1366/7/21. Medi­e val attacks on ecclesiastic property are well documented: Cohn, Popular Protest, pp. 201–50. 1 

Richard C. Hoffmann ([email protected]) is Professor Emeritus of History at York Uni­ver­ sity in Toronto, Canada. He has published widely on relations between medi­e val Europeans and their natural world, notably aquatic environments. His Environmental History of Medi­eval Europe was published in 2014.

Alasdair Ross († 2017) was a Reader in Medi­eval and Environmental History at the Uni­ver­ sity of Stirling, Scotland. He published widely on the long-term management of landscapes and resources.

Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 451–475 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117274

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document of 1501 refers back to outstanding claims arising from the charter of King David II (1329–71) regarding the abbey cruives.2 The attack was not an isolated incident but the first record of a violent dispute between burgh and abbey over salmon fishing rights on the river that lasted until the Reformation. Different factors likely underpinned this controversy: the location and fishing rights of the abbey, the perceived value and status of salmon across medi­eval Europe, and how the piscine resource of the river was caught and managed.

The Abbey Records and their Fisheries The establishment of communities of regular canons under the rule of St  Augustine was a popular elite activity between c.  1100 and c.  1300 in Scotland when some eighteen different communities were established. 3 As might be expected given the range of resources available to the founders of these communities, those foundation charters that have survived the political vicissitudes of medi­eval Scotland indicate that different communities possessed vastly diverse holdings. Current research on medi­eval monastic houses and their estates in Scotland is in its infancy. Of note has been the continuing work on Cistercian foundations, but the other religious orders have largely been ignored.4 Accordingly, it is currently unclear how most of the monastic orders established in medi­ eval Scotland managed (or mismanaged) the various properties and natural resources placed at their disposal, or how their management strategies may have impacted on the natural environment across time. Part of this problem lies in the nature of surviving Scottish monastic sources, many of which only partially survived the secularization of monasteries post-1500 and the Reformation. In 1535, the Cambuskenneth records were adjudged to be in an advanced state of decay and so King James V (1512–42) ordered that Abbot Alexander Mylne (1519–48) make a transumpt of the original documents. This amounted to a beautifully decorated volume containing 178 leaves, recording some 225 charters, papal bulls, and other documents relating to the properties of the abbey. All of the documents included in the new register were alphabetically recorded and faithful to the earlier register, but no detailed rentals or management accounts were selected for inclusion. It is likely that the abbot may just 2 

Edinburgh, NRS, B66/25/259. Cowan and Easson, Medi­eval Religious Houses, pp. 88–99. 4  Jamroziak, Survival and Success on Medi­eval Borders; Oram, Life on the Edge. 3 

Salmon Fishing Rights on the River Forth

453

Figure 18.1. Bell tower, Cambuskenneth Abbey. Photo by A. Ross.

have chosen those documents he thought were of greatest importance to the abbey for insertion in the transumpt.5 The de novo royal foundation of Cambuskenneth Abbey was erected in 1147 by King David I (1124–53) for the order of Arrouaise to serve the chapel of St Mary in the nearby royal burgh of Stirling (fig. 18.1). 6 Located on the banks of the River Forth downstream from the burgh at a point where it was still navigable by ocean-going vessels, the abbey was also permitted to exploit the piscine resources of the river. The foundation charter granted a number of 5 

Registrum monasterii S. Marie de Cambuskenneth, ed. by Fraser, pp. v–xiv. Recent discussions of the cult of the Virgin Mary include Hammond, ‘Royal and Aristocratic Attitudes’; Fitch, ‘Mothers and their Sons’. 6 

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resources to the canons including the lands of Cambuskenneth, fishings in the Forth between Cambuskenneth and Polmaise, one net in the Forth, the cáin (a fixed payment in kind) of one ship, a saltpan with appropriate land, the teind (tithe) of the ferme of the king’s demesne of Stirling, an island in the Forth between Polmaise and Tullibody, and twenty cuthrom of cheese (120 st) out of the king’s rents of Stirling.7 In comparison to the larger Augustinian foundations of David I in Scotland this appears to have been a rather paltry settlement.8 Partly, this may be because the king was attempting to build a new community of canons within an already busy industrialized landscape dominated by the royal castle and burgh of Stirling. Some concessions made to the new community came out of existing royal lands and revenues, and these may have also supported the fishings in the River Forth between Cambuskenneth and Polmaise. This in fact was a substantial concession; Polmaise is less than four kilometres east of Cambuskenneth (on the opposite side of the river) as the crow flies but because the Forth meanders extensively in this area the actual length of both riverbanks between the two points amounts to more than sixteen kilometres.9 By 1195, Cambuskenneth had also acquired additional fishings on the Forth at Tullibody and Kersie on the north bank of the river, strengthening the abbey’s control of the river system below the burgh. This meant that by 1200 the fishings belonging to the canons effectively spanned the entire Forth river system downstream of the burgh from the village of Cambuskenneth to the point where the river begins to rapidly widen into the Forth Estuary at Alloa — perhaps as much as thirty kilometres of riverbank on the Forth below the burgh. The canons also possessed a fishery on the River Clyde at Renfrew though little is subsequently revealed about this resource and its catch.10 The only further acquisition of fishing rights by the abbey occurred in 1399 when they were granted Moortown with its fishings on the Bannockburn, about two kilometres south of the latter’s mouth on the Forth.11 7 

Charters of David I, ed. by Barrow, p. 4 and no. 159. Charters of David I, ed. by Barrow, nos 147 and 174. 9  The River Forth is not a high energy system so there is a high probability that the medi­e val river system was very similar in form to that found today. For example, a comparison between maps produced c. 1583 and the present day demonstrate virtually identical meanders: ; [accessed 1 March 2016]. 10  Registrum monasterii S. Marie de Cambuskenneth, ed. by Fraser, no. 25. 11  Registrum monasterii S. Marie de Cambuskenneth, ed. by Fraser, no. 188. 8 

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Later records might also tell us something about the abbey’s earlier rights to salmon from the Forth. A court case of 28 November 1682 between the Erskine earls of Mar and the Livingstone earls of Callander noted that while the former owned all of the ex-abbey salmon fishings on the Forth from the abbey coble of Cambuskenneth downstream to the mouth of the River Carron, the latter claimed cáin of six salmon yearly out of every fishing boat between those two points which had been the duty that those boats had previously paid to the abbots of Cambuskenneth.12 Both families had formerly supplied secular commendators for the abbey; the Erskines between 1562 and 1617 (after which they were permanently granted Cambuskenneth by the Crown), and the Livingstones for a short period c. 1585.13 Accordingly, this document, in conjunction with the identities of the feuding parties, may have been harking back to an earlier (but now lost) grant from the Crown to the abbey of the cáin of salmon catches from the River Forth. But even if we know which fisheries belonged to the Augustinian canons it is quite another matter to understand what was being done with their catches. Presumably some of it must have been for local consumption but what proportion that was of the total annual catch is unknown. No economic records have survived from the abbey to tell us how much of the catch was consumed, what proportion was processed for sale, or even who it might have been sold to. In this respect, the canons did possess their own salt manufactory on the Forth. This likely was a sleeching operation,14 the product of which could have been used to preserve fish. However, the remaining abbey records are silent about this. A final conundrum to consider at this point is how the abbey prosecuted the piscine resources at their disposal. Apart from the mention of a net in the grant from King David I, various cobles, and their use of a fixed trap, the pre-1350 sources are silent about the other medi­eval techno­logies that might have been employed.15 The canons were not the only people who possessed fishing rights on the River Forth. The river fishings upstream of the abbey substantially belonged to the royal burgh of Stirling and these extended at least as far as Craigforth and the Drip ferry.16 The burgh cruives were located near Craigforth, which marks 12 

Edinburgh, NRS, GD124/6/115. Watt and Shead, Heads of Religious Houses, p. 28. 14  Ross, ‘Recreating the Bannockburn Environment’. 15  For technical descriptions of fishing methods see Von Brandt, Fish Catching Methods of the World. 16  The coble ferry at Drip also belonged to the abbey (Edinburgh, NRS, GD220/1/a/4/3/4). 13 

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Figure 18.2. Remains of Craigforth cruives. Photo by A. Ross.

the tidal reach of the river, but their records are also rather silent on the details of their medi­eval fishings. Craigforth, most likely, was also the location of the abbey cruives destroyed in 1365 (fig. 18.2).17 So before 1365 it is evident that the abbey had acquired a controlling interest on salmon fishings downstream of the burgh and had expanded their operations upstream too. By then, perhaps the burgh felt that the economic viability of its fishing interests was being threatened by the abbey and so took direct action because the salmon was a valuable fish in so many different ways.

The Value of Salmon in Medi­eval Europe Written records, anecdotal, administrative, and serial, establish the cultural importance of salmon across medi­e val western Christendom.18 Throughout the Middle Ages these fish were ubiquitous features of conspicuous consumption at festive elite banquets, even well away from the sea. Byzantine physician Anthimus recommended salmon to early sixth-century Ostrogoth king 17 

Renwick, Stirling Recs. A shorter version of the following section has been provided to a different audience see Hoffmann, ‘Salmo Salar in Late Medi­eval Scotland’. 18 

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Theodoric so long as they were fresh and he ate little of the skin.19 During times of silence at eleventh-century Cluny, most prestigious of western monasteries, the monks used a sign for salmon which they interpreted as signifying ‘pride, since the very proud and rich are accustomed to have such fish’.20 A thirteenth-century preacher, Jacques de Vitry expressed the same opinion when accusing luxurious Benedictines of having stomachs full of salmon, pike, and other delicacies, while truly ascetic Cistercians were full of vegetables and beans. Yet, in the Cistercian house of Kirkstall in Leeds salmon were among the more common large species found in medi­eval middens.21 English elites, clerical and lay alike, displayed their status by offering salmon to eat or as honorific gifts. Around 1400 these fish were featured on the tables of King Carlos III of Navarre, on occasions when the city of Cracow celebrated ambassadors and other noble guests, and a half a century later at Duke Philip the Fair of Burgundy’s famously extravagant ‘Feast of the Pheasant’.22 Especially because salmonid remains preserve poorly in archaeo­logical settings, it is worth observing the presence of salmon bones in excavations of Anglo-Saxon Wraysbury in Berkshire, the local Slavic prince’s dwelling in high medi­eval Hitzacker on the Elba, twelfth-century castles along the lower Rhine, and a late medi­eval house of canons at Saarbrucken.23 Even with the late medi­eval increase in consumption of marine fish, salmon maintained a significant cultural place across the entire Northern and Western Europe. Not surprisingly, then, as soon as and whenever written records become common in a region, salmon fisheries are an object of possession claims and disputes. Adomnán’s seventh-century life of St Columba makes salmon fishing by monks and others on Irish rivers the occasion for several of the saint’s miracles.24 Viking Age Iceland’s legal customs, written down by the 1260s, followed Norwegian practice to make salmon fishing a right of riparian land19 

Anthimus, De observatione ciborum ad Theodoricum, ed. by Liechtenhan, p. 18. Signa loquendi, ed. by Jarecki, p. 122. 21  Jacques de Vitry, Die Exempla, ed.  by Greven, p.  26; Ryder, ‘Remains of Fish and Other Aquatic Animals’. 22  Heinrich and Heidermanns, ‘Lachs’. 23  Coy, ‘Fish Bones’, pp. 68–74; Von den Driesch, ‘Fischreste aus der slawisch-deutschen Fürstenburg’; Reichstein, Untersuchungen an Tierknochen von den Isenburg; Hüster-Plogmann, ‘Fische’. 24  Adomnan, Life of Columba, ed. and trans. by Anderson and Anderson, pp. 364–67, 413–15, and 534. 20 

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owners.25 Elsewhere kings and princes claimed priority. In 762, Frankish king Pippin donated to Prüm Abbey fisheries at sites on the Moselle and the right to erect a trap across the river at Neumagen; still in the late ninth century and even the early thirteenth these sites provided salmon to the monastery.26 Early thirteenth-century dukes of Pomerania likewise presented to monasteries at Żukow and Oliwa salmon fisheries in several rivers.27 But lay lords also claimed their share. Far up the Loire in Roanne, two named salmon fisheries passed in 1031 from the clerical son of a local landowning family to the abbey of Savigny, half as a gift in the present, the other half at his death, along with an annual payment of one salmon ‘for investiture’.28 So, too, were contemporary cartularies of churches in lower Normandy replete with gifts of salmon fishing from riparian landowners, most of them prudently limited to certain days of the week and provisions not to interfere with the lord’s own take.29 Late medi­e val judicial records from the lower Seine continue this possessive and competitive pattern, as lay lords and religious corporations struggled to assert, expand, or defend their rights to the migratory fish.30 Such records of estate management and conflict resolution reveal not only the value medi­eval communities placed on salmon fisheries, but also their prevalent use of weirs, traps, and beach seines to capture these fish at fixed locations in the rivers. Prüm’s estate survey from 893 counted five weirs at two sites on the Moselle and three on the Rhine and its tributaries. Local peasants had to provide construction materials and to work fishing and carrying the salmon to the abbey some dozens of kilometres distant. When the survey was updated in 1222 Prüm had eleven fishing sites on the Moselle, Meuse, and Rhine tributaries. While the lowest yielded sturgeons, those further upstream targeted salmon, four with weirs, the others with nets. The abbey expressly forbade any other weirs or nets from working on their lordships.31 The fish trap on the Loire at Saint-Victor, property of the count of Forez by the eleventh century, gave him 494 salmon in 1376–77 and 1284 in 1382–83.32 Mid-twelfth-century canon 25 

Sigriður Pétursdóttir, ‘God’s Gift’. Das Prümer Urbar, ed. by Schwab, pp. 176, 181–82, 194–95, and 232–33. 27  Łęga, Obraz gospodarczy Pomorza Gdańskiego w XII i XIII wieku, pp. 35–49. 28  Cartulaire de l’abbaye de Savigny, ed. by Bernard, i, 366–67. 29  Halard, ‘La pêche du saumon en Normandie’. 30  Lardin and Jegou, ‘La pêche en basse Seine’. 31  Das Prümer Urbar, ed. by Schwab, pp. 176, 181–82, 194–95, 232–33, and 250–55. 32  Fournial, Les villes et l’économie d’échange, p. 195. 26 

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Gui of Bazoches, literary correspondent and outdoor enthusiast, reported drawing the seine net to catch salmon (with a learned Latin pun on Salamone, i.e. Solomon) from Ardennes tributaries of the Oise.33 Financial accounts from seven years between 1313 and 1321 for the English royal fishery in the Thames at Westshene, Richmond, document expenditures on netting, cork floats, a bottom lead line, boats, and heavy rope to deploy and draw to shore what was plainly a beach seine. The salmon caught there went in part to royal tables and the rest to market, producing annual cash returns twice the annual outlay.34 In the north-west of England ‘fishgarths’ for salmon, as distinct from ‘eelgarths’, were widely in evidence from the thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries and, when in good repair operational on rivers Eden, Derwent, Esk, and lesser flows. Wooden superstructures anchored across the stream supported floodgates and wooden grillwork to keep the fish from ascending, and a wicker or net enclosure at the centre to hold them for removal. Shore-based seines were employed both in lakes and in salmon rivers. The salmon fishery on the Derwent below the castle at Cockermouth was valued at £5 6s 8d in the 1270s and £13 6s 8d in 1368.35 Material remains of fishing weirs of medi­e val date recovered from the Elbe, Trent, Thames, Shannon, Loire, Dordogne, and other European rivers confirm their importance, as well as certain construction details.36 An oftendocumented combination of material arrangements and cultural practices make of salmon fisheries quintessential socio-natural sites, real points of historic interaction between reified modern concepts of nature and culture. Across much of Western Europe natural salmon stocks in smaller rivers and upper tributaries were depleting by the thirteenth century. For example, Angelika Lampen has traced the collapse of salmon in archival records of the convent at Werden on the Ruhr from abundance in the eleventh century to absence in the fourteenth.37 By that time, complaints of weirs and illegal fishing, killing smolts and damaging runs could be heard on the Thames, Severn, Wye, 33 

Liber epistularum Guidonis de Basochis, ed. by Adolfsson, p. 98. Thorold Rogers, A History of Agriculture and Prices in England, i, 610–14. 35  Winchester, Medi­eval Cumbria, pp. 107–13. 36  Lampen, ‘Medi­eval Fish Weirs’, pp. 129–34, summarized especially the German and other archaeo­logical evidence then available, while Jenkins, ‘The Trapping of Salmon in the Rivers of England and Wales’, and Went, ‘Ancient Irish Fishing Weirs for Salmon’ cover mainly ethno­ graphic evidence from much of the British Isles. See also O’Sullivan, ‘Medi­eval Fishweirs on the Deel Estuary, Co. Limerick’, pp. 15–17, and O’Sullivan, Foragers, Farmers and Fishers; Miéjac, ‘La pêche en Loire dans la Généralité d’Orléans’; and Cohen, ‘Early Anglo-Saxon Fish Traps’. 37  Lampen, Fischerei und Fischhandel im Mittel­alter, p. 208. 34 

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and Meuse.38 In Lower Normandy the generous local supplies offered as gifts in eleventh- and twelfth-century charters had by the early fifteenth century turned into individual references to consumption of single salmon from Ireland and Scotland.39 Contemporary sources attributed the decline to barriers and competitive greed, but habitat changes resulting from agricultural clearances were also likely implicated. It is within such contexts that disputes over the right to prosecute the salmon resource may have arisen in medi­eval Scotland.

Scotland’s Medi­eval Salmon Fisheries Human exploitation in northern Britain of these seasonally rich supplies of preservable protein went back to the retreat of Pleistocene ice from what became the North Sea, but it entered the written record only as eleventhcentury kings of Scots asserted royal authority over the rivers of their realm. During the ensuing two centuries lords, clerical and lay, scrambled to enlarge their estates with river piscaturae (fishings), at named riparian sites throughout Scotland. As Neville has recently shown for broad land-based aspects of medi­ eval Scotland’s economy,40 this competition among lords over resources and the Crown’s ensuing effort to control and exploit this competition established both the value then placed on salmon and the basis for future resource conflicts like that between Cambuskenneth and Stirling. Dozens of charters issued by Scotland’s twelfth-century monarchs granted, described, and confirmed rights to fish with retis (nets) and crovas or crohas (weirs or cruives) in the major river systems of eastern Scotland and to a lesser degree those of the west. A generation later the Acta of Alexander III (1249–86) mention fish much less often, but confirm grants by his predecessors and add fisheries in the River Ness and several more in the south-west. A similar picture of ownership claims emerges from the renewals and confirmations issued by Robert I (1306–29) and David II.41 It is not surprising to 38 

London, PRO, KB 27/384 30E3, m13d, and KB 227/509 11R2, m1d; Wright, Sources of London English, p. 91; Williams, The Welsh Cistercians, pp. 75–76; Balon, ‘La pêche et le commerce du poisson dans le comté de Namur’, pp. 28–31. 39  Halard, ‘La pêche du saumon en Normandie’. 40  Neville, Land, Law and People, pp. 41–64. 41  Charters of David I, ed. by Barrow, nos 39, 88, 92, 126, 172, 185; RRS, i, nos 107, 160, 174, 226, 271; RRS, ii, nos 30, 39, 62, 197, 317, 362, 492; RRS, iv.1, nos 42, 91, 169; RRS, v, nos. 29, 133, 275, 293, 388; RRS, vi, nos 337, 467.

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find prominent among twelfth-century recipients old monastic or cathedral houses including Dunfermline, St Andrews, Holyrood, Scone, Melrose, Paisley, Dryburgh, Coupar Angus, Arbroath, and Cambuskenneth.42 Religious obligations created another access to the wealth of salmon runs, as all Christians were required to pay a tenth of all annual gains (teinds) to their parish church. What applied to barley, lambs, or cheeses also applied to the catch, as King William had to remind all the men of Moray in 1187–89.43 In practice and, as elsewhere in Christendom, high prelates and corporations often appropriated teinds from their subordinates, teind-holders leased or contracted out the actual collection, and/or claimants arranged with teind-payers to take a fixed annual quantity or sum of money in lieu of the variable real tenth. Ample occasions for dispute over salmon teinds emerge in ecclesiastical and secular records relating to sites across Scotland, including the River Forth. Some lasted for decades.44 Like most deeds to property, royal and ecclesiastical charters present salmon, or more accurately, the fishings of salmon, as legal constructs and only most rarely and obscurely as economic activities exploiting natural organisms. This common feature always limits the usefulness of medi­eval charters and, as allocating ownership rights ceased to be a primary concern of royal governments, diminishes the value of these sources for environmental history. By and large the charters offer sparse operational particulars of the piscaturae they allocate. Besides generic ‘nets’ they identify what are technically beach seines and weirs, two quite distinctive means of capturing fish. The former, a long net with one end anchored to shore, while the other is taken into the water by a coble to surround a (presumed) concentration of fish and then the resultant bag of netting pulled to shore with the catch, are initially to be inferred from repeated charter references to the tractum retis (draw of a net).45 Confirmation of this techno­ logy comes only from the detailed local records of estate management which everywhere ground historical study of an operating agrarian economy and ecosystem. But from late medi­e val Scotland only one even fragmentary such set 42 

Charters of David I, ed. by Barrow, nos 120, 183; RRS, i, no. 118. RRS, ii, no. 281. 44  Charters of David I, ed. by Barrow, no. 225; RRS, i, nos 137, 182; RRS, ii, no. 165; Edinburgh, NRS B66/25/636, fols 1–65; Stirling Recs., ed. by Renwick, p. 267; Beauly Charters, ed. by Batten, pp. 205–13. 45  Von Brandt, Fish Catching Methods of the World, pp. 283–97, with particular treatment of traditional seining in European fresh waters on pp. 286–88 and beach seining on pp. 289–91; Charters of David I, ed. by Barrow, no. 126; RRS, v, no. 275. 43 

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Figure 18.3. Netting site on River Forth at Craigforth. Photo by A. Ross.

of records has survived. Systematic consideration of this capture technique, its locations, and operation must rest on the account books of Coupar Angus,46 a now utterly destroyed Cistercian monastery with almost exclusively salmon fisheries on the River Tay, its tributaries Isla, Ericht, and Dean, and elsewhere on the North Esk, Clyde, and Deveron. Most important was the abbey’s fishery located furthest downriver at Campsie, where natural features still illuminate how local knowledge and experience undergirded capture techniques and ensuing socio-economic relationships. Campsie is the most richly documented of the Coupar fisheries, but only from the mid-fifteenth century, when each of its probably two or perhaps even more fishing sites or facilities was being let out on mostly five-year terms to groups of fishers. Mid/late fifteenth-century rental agreements seem to identify at least two separate salmon fishings at Campsie, one for which the tenants supplied all the equipment including the boat and another for which the abbey provided the boat. Use of cobles already implies some kind of net or seine fishery. This is confirmed in a stipulation from 1508 of a net 33 fathoms (about 46 

Coupar Angus Charters, ed. by Easson; Cupar-Angus Rentals, ed. by Rogers.

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Figure 18.4. River Beauly cruive. Photo by A. Ross.

57–66 m) long and tapering from 4 fathoms at the centre to 3.5 (from 7 or 8 to a bit more than 6 m) at the outer ends. Elsewhere in Europe the gently sloping shore needed for such beach seines were commonly designated, even possessed, as fishing sites. Both Campsie and the Forth fishings at Craigforth still possess such sandy beaches (fig. 18.3). Technically speaking, seine nets call for considerable labour on the part of the fishers but little fixed investment; weir fisheries are more capital-intensive modifications of the environment, some of which survive or have left traces into the present. While Scottish antiquaries and archaeo­logists have attended to foreshore and estuarine traps meant to strand fish in tidewater,47 those erected to trap salmon in fast-flowing rivers could be less durable and remain less well known. Fixed structures of wood and stone extended into or across the river to guide upstream migrants into a channel where they were held or dipped out. The vernacular Scots term cruive and related Latin crova or croha, from a Celtic root for ‘enclosure’, came to specify the wicker boxes, cages, or ‘coops’ whence 47 

Bathgate, ‘Ancient Fish-Traps or Yairs in Scotland’, pp. 98–102; Hale, ‘Fish-Traps in Scotland’.

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the fish could not escape, while the barrier or fence itself is a ‘yair’.48 Pools formed below and above the actual structure also concentrated fish for netting. In the early 1190s, for example, King William I referred to his own crohas on the River Lossie pertaining to the castle at Elgin.49 The cruives which belonged to a more obscure and isolated religious house, Beauly Priory on the river of the same name in Ross, were obtained from the family of its baronial founder after 1230 and remain visible, even viable, today (fig. 18.4), having passed after the 1560s into possession of Lord Fraser of Lovat. In 1506, the priory was engaged in sending salmon via Bruges to the French mother house of their Valliscaulian order.50 Beauly Priory’s shipments had quasi-ritual significance but were meant for the Lenten dining of their brethren in Burgundy. By the late Middle Ages salmon were a noteworthy article of consumption and commerce in Scotland and its exports. Published extracts from the municipal archives of Stirling indicate without doubt the importance of retail trade in salmon at the start of the sixteenth century. Each spring (Lent and the start of the annual run in the Forth) burgh ordinances reiterated strict limits on middlemen who bought salmon outside the market for resale there. Sale outside of shops was restricted to the weekly market day and peddlers obliged to give surety of their compliance. Strict provisions governed the butchering and cleaning of salmon at the common shambles beside the town gate.51 Medi­e valists will recognize here the concerns for consumer protection and regulated competition that were typical of urban retail markets, especially in foodstuffs. Commerce in salmon is evident in records of sale prices starting in the early fourteenth century. The first citations are price per fish, which varied greatly from year to year but always with the season: salmon were costly in winter and early spring when few were available and Lenten demand was high, but less so in summer when many fish of different size and quality could be had. The king’s own kitchen paid three times more per salmon before Easter than after.52 Just as the fourteenth-century adoption of salting herring in barrels by Netherlandish fishers brought about much wider European custom for this more portable and durable product, a similar innovation likely promoted 48 

Dietz, ‘Modern English Cruive’. RRS, ii, no. 362. 50  Beauly Charters, ed. by Batten, pp. 157–66. 51  Stirling Recs., ed. by Renwick, pp. 3, 9, 25, 27, 30, 34–35, 58. 52  Gemmill and Mayhew, Changing Values in Medi­eval Scotland, pp. 303–04. 49 

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Scottish salmon sales. Toward the late 1300s barrelled salmon entered the market, and by the 1420s–30s had become the norm for large and export transactions. Cleaned and salted salmon in ‘Hamburg barrels’ (calculated at twelve to the ‘last’, so fourteen gallons or fifty-four litres each) were by then a standard commodity, actively promoted in parliamentary legislation and central to the trade of well-studied Aberdeen, then also of Leith.53 Principal export markets developed all along the southern shores of the North Sea, first in the fourteenth century in the Low Countries, then spreading to England and, especially after 1450 to France. Parliamentary legislation of 1398–1426 set an export tax of one penny for one adult salmon or two grilse (thus implying a trade in whole, not cut up or processed fish). This, or a poorly documented successor, duty yielded entries in fragmentary surviving customs books at several fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century ports. Aberdeen alone was shipping 200–500 barrels annually in the late 1420s to early 1430s. Recorded national exports of salmon went over 2000 barrels in the 1470s and peaked over 3000 barrels in the 1530s–40s. Scottish salmon came into English ports as far south as Dover, but the largest quantities, hundreds of barrels a year from the 1460s to 1540s, entered via Hull and Lynn. Mid-century (1430–88) Scottish parliaments thought the English demand so solid that they made salmon a tool for a bullionist trade policy, requiring payment in coin or specie.54 Across the North Sea already in the autumn quarter of 1472 fragmentary import tolls counted at just one station on the principal shipping channel to Antwerp identified thirteen shippers with salmon totalling 52 lasts, 4 tonnes, or 628 barrels. By autumn 1499 that total had increased by half. During the 1490s just one of the Scottish merchants in the Low Countries, Andrew Halyburton, who acted in Middelburgh as agent for dozens of elite and ordinary landholders, handled forty to eighty barrels each year. Salmon exports were central elements in Scotland’s overseas credit operations.55 It should therefore come as no surprise to learn that around 1200 and steadily thereafter the political authorities in Scotland repeatedly imposed public 53 

Gemmill and Mayhew, Changing Values in Medi­eval Scotland, pp. 303–17. Gemmill and Mayhew, Changing Values in Medi­eval Scotland, pp. 303–17; Ditchburn, Scotland and Europe, pp. 142–49; The Records of the Parliaments of Scotland to 1707, ed. by Brown and others, 1318/13; RPS, 1430/28; RPS, 1434/2; RPS, 1436/10/11; RPS, 1473/7/18; RPS, A1474/5/4; and RPS, 1484/2/40; Rorke, ‘Scottish Overseas Trade, 1275/86–1597’, ii, 564–71 and 662–69. 55  De Tol van Iersekeroord, ed.  by Unger, pp.  294–99 and 504–16; Ledger of Andrew Halyburton, ed. by Innes. 54 

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regulation on the salmon fishings.56 The evolution of these measures that can be documented highlights the intersection of competition and conservation which underlay conflict over salmon in the Forth. Competition and conservation are leitmotifs in the story of salmon in late medi­eval Scotland and plausibly that of the conflict over salmon in the River Forth. The first known violent clash between abbey and burgh took place just as new export markets for Scottish salmon were adding to domestic demand in both the command (‘feudal’) and exchange economies.

Forth Salmon Wars Redux Following the violent events of 1365 sources are silent for 130 years on any lingering animosity between abbey and burgh over the salmon resource of the Forth upstream of the abbey. The first signs of ongoing trouble appear in December 1494 when the Lords Auditors commanded eighteen men to stop their wrongful occupation of burgh fisheries on the Forth.57 The sources do not explain who these men worked for but shortly after Abbot Henry Abercrombie also received a judgement in his favour, stating that the burgh had illegally occupied some of the abbey fisheries on the river since at least 1470 and that the burgh should pay the abbey the profits they would normally have received from those fishings over that twenty-five-year period.58 These two cases were closely linked and six years later both parties agreed to a process of arbitration. The decision was handed down on 21 July 1501 where it was agreed that Cambuskenneth would possess in perpetuity five cobles on the river, an increase of three boats. In return, the abbey was to surrender all claims pertaining to the events of 1365 and the burgh would pay the abbey £20 so they might enjoy peaceable use of the rest of their fishings and cobles, ‘without impediment vexation or trouble to be done or made by the said abbot and convent or their successors or any others on their behalf ’.59 56 

‘Regiam majestatem’ and ‘Quoniam attachiamenta’, ed. and trans. by Cooper; Cooper, Selected Papers 1922–1954; Quoniam attachiamenta, ed. by Fergus, pp. 196–98; Taylor, ‘Leges Scocie’, pp. 219–20; The Records of the Parliaments of Scotland to 1707, ed. by Brown and others, 1318/13; RPS, 1469/27. The regulatory regime is more fully discussed in Hoffmann, ‘Salmo salar in Late Medi­eval Scotland’. 57  Stirling Recs., ed. by Renwick, no. xxviii. 58  Stirling Recs., ed. by Renwick, no. xxix. The abbey claimed but could produce no proof of illegal occupation before 1470. 59  Edinburgh, NRS, B66/25/258–59.

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The abbey, it seems, was not entirely happy with this decision. A change of abbot when David Arnot took over in 1503 may have occasioned a change of mind. By June 1504 the burgh was complaining to the royal council that the abbey had refused to attach their common seal to the arbitration award and was withholding the fish and profits of eleven and a half cobles from the burgh.60 Clearly, on this occasion the abbey seemed to be acting as the aggressor, but this does not quite tell the whole story as a third party had entered the affray to further muddy the waters. On 8 November 1497 the Crown confirmed a charter to Sir John Elphinstone of Airth that included the lands of Craigforth in Stirling. 61 Subsequently on 14 September 1507 the Crown confirmed a second charter to his heir, the king’s servant Alexander Elphinstone, of the same lands and fishings.62 That charter also specified the cruives and fishings located there, which would also certainly have included the ruins of the old abbey cruive that had been destroyed in 1365. On 15 March 1508 the burgh complained to the royal council that Elphinstone had been building more fish weirs on that part of the river which rightfully belonged to the burgh so it looks as though Alexander had been expanding his fishing operations there.63 Almost two years later, on 22 March 1510 the burgh and Elphinstone reached agreement on an amicable and perhaps remarkable solution to this problem. In return for the burgh granting Elphinstone one coble and its net on the river, he resigned in perpetuity to Stirling all of the fish weirs that belonged to his Craigforth property and the coble newly granted to him by the burgh.64 Elphinstone also gave the fishers of the burgh the right to pass freely through his lands to reach their fisheries and to draw their nets up on his lands. Finally, Elphinstone also promised to support the burgh in its continuing fight against the abbot and convent of Cambuskenneth over the rights it felt it had in that same stretch of water.65 Once again, this agreement can be read as a sign of intense pressure on the burgh’s fishings and the fact that they felt they had to turn to a newly ennobled royal favourite for support in opposing the 60 

Edinburgh, NRS, B66/25/261. RMS, ii, no. 2380. 62  RMS, ii, no. 3132. 63  Edinburgh, NRS, B66/25/636. 64  In 1609 the fixed annual rent of one of these cruives was 1040 salmon for salting : Edinburgh, NRS, GD156/28/8. 65  Edinburgh, NRS, RH15/96/1. 61 

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Augustinians is one measure of the severity of that pressure on ‘their’ fishing resource. Downstream lordly poaching too, which the abbot claimed not to know about, did not help matters and would also have been perceived by the burgh as meaning that increasingly less salmon survived the journey upriver to reach the town fisheries.66 These problems together help to explain why, during the night of 26 July 1531, fifteen inhabitants of the burgh, together with their servants and other accomplices, once again felt that they had to commit violence against the fishing interests of the abbey. This time their targeted fishery lay at Abbotshude, downstream of the burgh and adjacent to the monastic precinct. On this occasion the miscreants either destroyed or removed the cobles and nets that belonged to the abbey’s four named tenant fishermen there.67 The timing of this second raid was deliberate because 26 July was the feast day of St Anne. On this occasion the burgh was not just destroying some fishing gear while the monastic precinct was distracted by a major event, it was also slighting the cults of the mother of the Virgin Mary and Mary herself. Sixteenth-century sources are silent about any resolution of this last act of violence. This is perhaps understandable at a time of considerable religious unrest in Scotland and elsewhere but the abbey itself was undergoing major changes in management as it moved from being governed by abbots to being governed by commendators. 68 The second commendator of the abbey was Adam Erskine who held that position between 1562 and 1605, except for a short period around 1585 when Alexander Livingstone briefly held the same office. Adam was nephew of John Erskine, earl of Mar, whose main seat was located in Alloa, downstream from the abbey and almost at the point where the river broadens out into an estuary. Adam Erskine wasted little time in alienating the lands and fishings of the abbey to his relative via a series of grants across January 1562, later confirmed by Queen Mary (1542–67).69 This must have added some spice to the already poor relationship between Elphinstone, the burgh, and the abbey since the Elphinstone family also held substantial blocks of property in Mar including

66 

Edinburgh, NRS, B66/25/636. Stirling Recs., ed. by Renwick, no. xxxix. 68  Watt and Shead, Heads of Religious Houses, p. 28. For a discussion of commendators see Dilworth, ‘The Commendator System’. 69  Edinburgh, NRS, GD124/1/984; GD124/1/978; GD124/1/1000. 67 

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Kildrummy Castle, the old principal seat of the earldom.70 In any event, the period immediately after the dissolution of the abbey is also important for adding to our perception of the salmon fisheries on the Forth because, understandably, Erskine and his successors were keen to maximize revenue from the old abbey lands. In the Erskine papers for the period post-1562 there are records relating to another two fixed fish weirs downstream from the abbey, all located in the vicinity of Alloa. These were named as the Insch (island) and Elphinstone cruives and were likely located at a point in the river where the main channel was split into two around major islands — locating cruives across one of these channels between island and shore would not have affected shipping heading upstream to Stirling.71 The problem is that there is no proof these constructions pre-date 1562, but the fact that one was owned by the same Elphinstone family who possessed the lands of Craigforth is interesting. There is also more detail in the Erskine papers about other methods of fishing employed at ex-abbey fishing sites like the ‘rete vulgo vocatum stowp nett’ (net commonly called a stowp net) used at Cuikispow, now part of Polmaise, by Janet Paterson and her husband Thomas Ewing in 1598.72 After 1600, the Erskine family gradually began to tighten their control of fisheries on the river and a number of court cases and other legal manoeuvres name both ex-abbey fishing sites and the fishermen working there. One listed ten of the ex-abbey fishing sites that employed a total of forty-eight professional fisher people, two of them being women. According to this list the site at Cambus employed the greatest number of people, totalling eleven.73 Once again though, because we have no similar listings for the abbey’s fishermen at these sites before 1562, it is impossible to know whether Lord Erskine had actually increased the numbers of professional fisher people employed on the river.

Conclusion The first violent clash now known between the abbey of Cambuskenneth and the burgh of Stirling took place just as new export markets for Scottish salmon 70 

Edinburgh, NRS, GD124/1/170; GD124/1/178. The Register of the Privy Council of Scotland, ed. by Hume Brown, n.s., v, 133. 72  Edinburgh, NRS, GD124/1/999; [accessed 22 February 2016]. 73  Edinburgh, NRS, GD124/6/98. 71 

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were adding to domestic demand. It may be significant that only the first attack by Stirling burgesses and fishers destroyed the abbey’s cruives; as both the records of Beauly and contemporary national legislation make plain, such weir fisheries could easily choke off an entire run of salmon, depriving upstream rights holders of ‘their’ fish. Might fear of such interception in 1365, in combination with the other abbey fisheries, have driven men of Stirling to choose immediate action over the laborious pace of judicial proceedings because they felt they were not receiving their fair share of nature’s bounty? They certainly chose their days of violence carefully, whatever the matter. These records strongly indicate that it was the Augustinians of Cambus­ kenneth who were the guilty party in this dispute. How much money they made from their salmon fisheries will never be known but it is clear the abbey forwent opportunities for amicable resolution, preferring instead to continue the illegal occupation of burgh fisheries and even encouraging poaching on abbey fisheries by their lordly neighbours. Every flash point between burgh and abbey occurs when the inhabitants of the former react to a situation. Not even the intrusion of a royal favourite into the dispute to support the burgh seems to have made any difference and it is telling that the burgesses of Stirling effectively resorted to paying blackmail in 1501 to try and ensure that the abbey did not interfere further in their fisheries. As testy relations among Elphinstones, Livingstons, and Erskines before and after dissolution confirm, however, salmon fishings were contested objects of desire among lay as well as ecclesiastical estate holders. Not kings, nor monks, nor ordinary burgesses likely knew the minutiae of river and fish necessary to catch salmon effectively. Successful draws of a beach seine or harvests from a weir depended on the local environmental expertise of those fishers still visible, even named, among the aggressive burgesses of 1365, those involved in the disputes of the 1490s, and the reportedly victimized abbey dependents of 1531. Such men and their wives appear more anonymously peddling their salmon on Stirling’s market. Their counterparts on other rivers wove seines for Coupar Angus or sold salmon to merchants of Aberdeen. Their social superiors took the catch as dues or teinds and turned this wealth to household consumption or the export trade. Late medi­e val riversides — or, rather, very specific sites along them — were focal points for interactions among Scots and between Scots and their natural environment. Up the rivers each summer and fall swam the bio­logical riches of the sea for men to appropriate, manage with some evident foresight, and bitterly contest.

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Works Cited Manu­script and Archival Sources Edinburgh, National Records Scotland (NRS), Gifts and Deposits (GD), 124 —— , Gifts and Deposits (GD), 156 —— , Burgh Records (B), 66 —— , Register House Charters (RH), 15 London, Public Record Office, Plea Rolls (PRO), KB 27/384 30E3, m13d —— , KB 227/509 11R2, m1d

Primary Sources Adomnan, Adomnan’s ‘Life of Columba’, ed. and trans. by Alan O. Anderson and Mar­ jorie O. Anderson (London: Oliver and Boyd, 1961) Anthimus, De observatione ciborum ad Theodoricum regem Francorum epistula, ed. and trans. by Eduard Liechtenhan, Corpus medicorum latinorum, 8.1, rev. edn (Berlin: Academiae Scientiarum, 1963) Cartulaire de l’abbaye de Savigny: Suivi du petit cartulaire de l’abbaye d’Ainay, ed.  by Auguste Bernard, Collection de documents inédits sur l’histoire de France, 1st ser., Histoire politique, 2 vols (Paris: Imprimerie impériale, 1853) Charters and Other Documents Relating to the Royal Burgh of Stirling, A.D.1124–1705, ed. by R. Renwick (Glasgow: Scottish Burgh Records Society, 1884) [Renwick, Stir­ ling recs.] Charters of the Abbey of Coupar Angus, ed. by David E. Easson, 2 vols (Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, 1947) The Charters of David I: The Written Acts of David I King of Scots, 1124–53 and of his Son Henry Earl of Northumberland, 1139–52, ed. by G. W. S. Barrow (Woodbridge: Boydell, 1999) The Charters of the Priory of Beauly with Notices of the Priories of Pluscardine and Ard­ chattan and of the Family of the Founder John Byset, ed. by Edmund Chisholm Batten (Edinburgh: McFarlane & Erskine, 1887) Jacques de Vitry, Die Exempla aus den Sermones feriales et communes des Jakob von Vitry, ed. by Joseph Greven (Heidelberg: C. Winter, 1914) Ledger of Andrew Halyburton Conservator of the Privileges of the Scotch Nation in the Netherlands, 1492–1503, ed.  by Cosmo Innes (Edinburgh: Her Majesty’s General Register House, 1867) Liber epistularum Guidonis de Basochis, ed. by Herbert Adolfsson, Acta Universitatis Stock­ holmiensis: Studia latina Stockholmiensis, 18 (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1969) Najstarsze księgi i rachunki miasta Krakowa od r.  1300 do 1400, ed.  by Franciszek Piekosiński and Józef Szujski, Monumenta medii aevi historica res gestas Poloniae illustrantia, 4 (Warsaw: Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1965) Das Prümer Urbar, ed. by Ingo Schwab, Rheinische Urbare, 5 (Düsseldorf: Droste, 1983)

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Quoniam attachiamenta, ed. and trans. by T. David Fergus (Edinburgh: The Stair Society, 1996) The Records of the Parliaments of Scotland to 1707, ed.  by K.  M. Brown and others (St  Andrews: Uni­ver­sity of St  Andrews, 2007–16) [ac­ cessed 2 March 2017] [RPS] Regesta regum Scottorum, ed. by G. W. S. Barrow and others, 6 vols (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni­ver­sity Press, 1960–) [RRS] ‘Regiam majestatem’ and ‘Quoniam attachiamenta’ Based on the Text of Sir John Skene, ed. and trans. by T. M. Cooper (Edinburgh: Skinner, 1947) The Register of the Privy Council of Scotland, ed. by P. Hume Brown, 16 vols (Edinburgh: HMSO, 1904) Registrum magni sigilli regum Scotorum in archivis publicis asservatum, ed.  by John  M. Thomson, 11 vols (London, 1814; repr. Edinburgh: Clark Constable, 1984) [RMS] Registrum monasterii S. Marie de Cambuskenneth, ed. by Sir William Fraser (Edinburgh: Grampian Club, 1872) Rental Book of the Cistercian Abbey of Cupar-Angus, with the Breviary of the Register, ed. by Charles Rogers, 2 vols (London: Grampian Club, 1879–80) Signa loquendi, ed. by Walter Jarecki (Baden-Baden: Koerner, 1981) De tol van Iersekeroord: Documenten en rekeningen, 1321–1572, ed. by Willem S. Unger (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1939)

Secondary Works Balon, Joseph, ‘La pêche et le commerce du poisson dans le comté de Namur au Moyen âge’, Namurcum, 19 (1942), 28–31 Bathgate, Thomas D., ‘Ancient Fish-Traps or Yairs in Scotland’, Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, 83 (1948–49), 98–102 Brandt, Andres von, Fish Catching Methods of the World, 3rd rev. edn (Stratford-uponAvon: Fishing News Books, 1984) Cohen, Nathalie, ‘Early Anglo-Saxon Fish Traps on the River Thames’, in Studies in Early Anglo-Saxon Art and Archaeo­logy: Papers in Honour of Martin G. Welch, ed. by S. Brookes, S. Harrington, and A. Reynolds, British Archaeo­logical Reports British Series, 527 (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2011), pp. 131–38 Cohn Jr, Samuel K., Popular Protest in Late Medi­eval English Towns (Cam­bridge: Cam­ bridge Uni­ver­sity Press, 2013) Cooper, T. M., Selected Papers, 1922–1954 (Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1957) Coy, Jenny, ‘Fish Bones’, in G. G. Astill and S. J. Lobb, ‘Roman and Saxon Deposits at Wraysbury’, The Archaeo­logical Journal, 146 (1989), 68–134 Cowan, Ian B., and David E. Easson, Medi­eval Religious Houses: Scotland, with an Appendix on the Houses in the Isle of Man, 2nd edn (London: Longman, 1976) Dietz, Klaus, ‘Modern English Cruive “Wicker Salmon-Trap”’, in Linguistics across His­ torical and Geo­graphical Boundaries, i: Linguistic Theory and Historical Linguistics, ed. by Dieter Kastovsky and Aleksander Szwedek (Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 1986), pp. 277–91

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Dilworth, Mark, ‘The Commendator System in Scotland’, Innes Review, 37 (1986), 51–72 Ditchburn, David, Scotland and Europe: The Medi­eval Kingdom and its Contacts with Christen­dom, c. 1245–1545, i: Religion, Culture and Commerce (East Linton: Tuck­ well, 2001), pp. 142–49 Driesch, Angela von den, ‘Fischreste aus der slawisch-deutschen Fürstenburg auf dem Weinberg in Hitzacker (Elbe)’, Neue Ausgrabungen und Forschungen in Niedersachsen, 15 (1982), 395–423 Dyer, Christopher, ‘Do Household Accounts Provide an Accurate Picture of Late Medi­ eval Diet and Food Culture?’, in La vie matérielle au moyen âge: L’apport des sources litteraires, normatives et de la pratique, ed. by Emmanuelle Rassart-Eeckhout and others, Actes du Colloque international de Louvain-la-Neuve, 3–5 octobre 1996, Publi­ cations de l’Institut d’Études medi­evales: Textes, études, congrès, 18 (Louvain-laNeuve: Université Catholique de Louvain, 1997), pp. 109–25 Fitch, Audrey-Beth, ‘Mothers and their Sons: Mary and Jesus in Scotland, 1450–1560’, in The Cult of Saints and the Virgin Mary in Medi­eval Scotland, ed. by Steve Boardman and Eila Williamson (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2010), pp. 159–76 Fournial, Etienne, Les villes et l’économie d’échange en Forez aux XIIIe et XIVe siècles (Paris: Klincksieck, 1967) Gemmill, Elizabeth, and Nicholas Mayhew, Changing Values in Medi­eval Scotland: A Study of Prices, Money, and Weights and Measures (Cam­bridge: Cam­bridge Uni­ver­ sity Press, 1995) Halard, Xavier, ‘La pêche du saumon en Normandie du XIe au XVe siècle’, Journal of Medi­ eval History, 9 (1983), 174–75 Hale, Alex G., ‘Fish-Traps in Scotland: Construction, Supply, Demand and Destruction’, in Water Management in Medi­eval Rural Economy: Les usages de l’eau en milieu rural au Moyen Âge: Ruralia, V, ed. by Jan Klápště, Památky archeo­logické, Supplementum, 17 (Prague: Institute of Archaeo­logy, Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic, 2005), pp. 119–26 Hammond, Matthew H., ‘Royal and Aristocratic Attitudes to Saints and the Virgin Mary in Twelfth- and Thirteenth-Century Scotland’, in The Cult of Saints and the Virgin Mary in Medi­eval Scotland, ed. by Steve Boardman and Eila Williamson (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2010), pp. 61–86 Heinrich, Dirk, and F. Heidermanns, ‘Lachs’, in Reallexikon der Germanischen Altertums­ kunde, ed.  by Heinrich Beck and others, 2nd rev.  edn (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2001), xvii, 528–32 Hoffmann, Richard C., ‘Salmo Salar in Late Medi­eval Scotland: Competition and Con­ ser­vation for a Riverine Resource’, Aquatic Sciences, 77 (2015), 355–66 Hüster-Plogmann, Heide, ‘Fische’, in Sabine Deschler-Erb, Miki Bopp-Ito, and Heide Hüster-Plogmann, ‘Die mittel­alterlichen Tierknochen aus dem Kreuzgangbereich des Stiftes St  Arnaul’, in Leben und Sterben in einem mittel­alterlichen Kollegiatstift: Archäo­logische und baugeschichteliche Untersuchungen im ehemaligen Stift St Arnaul in Saarbrücken, ed. by Hans-Walter Herrmann and Jan Selmer (Saarbrücken: Institut für Landeskunde im Saarland, 2007), pp. 529–32

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Jamroziak, Emilia, Survival and Success on Medi­eval Borders: Cistercian Houses in Medi­eval Scotland and Pomerania from the Twelfth to the Late Fourteenth Century (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011) Jenkins, J. Geraint, ‘The Trapping of Salmon in the Rivers of England and Wales’, in The Fish­ing Culture of the World, ed. by Béla Gunda, 2 vols (Budapest: Prometheus, 1984), i, 239–50 Lampen, Angelika, ‘Medi­eval Fish Weirs: The Archaeo­logical and Historical Evidence’, Archaeofauna, 5 (1996), 129–34 —— , Fischerei und Fischhandel im Mittel­alter: Wirtschafts- und sozialgeschichtliche Unter­ suchungen nach urkundlichen und archäo­logischen Quellen des 6. bis 14. Jahrhunderts im Gebiet des Deutschen Reichs, Historische Studien, 461 (Husum: Matthiesen, 2000) Lardin, Philippe, and Laurent Jegou, ‘La pêche en basse Seine à la fin du Moyen Age’, in Pêche et pisciculture en eau douce: La rivière et l’étang au Moyen Âge, ed. by Paul Benoît, Frédéric Loridant, and Olivier Mattéoni, Actes des 1res Rencontres internationales de Liessies: 27, 28, 29 avril 1998 (unpaginated booklet and CD-Rom, Lille: Conseil Général du Nord, 2004) Łęga, Władysław, Obraz gospodarczy Pomorza Gdańskiego w XII i XIII wieku, Prace Instytutu Zachodniego, 14 (Poznań: Instytut Zachodni, 1949) Miéjac, Emmanuelle, ‘La pêche en Loire dans la Généralité d’Orléans à l’epoque moderne’, in Pêche et pisciculture en eau douce: La rivière et l’étang au Moyen Âge, ed.  by Paul Benoît, Frédéric Loridant, and Olivier Mattéoni, Actes des 1res Rencontres internationales de Liessies: 27, 28, 29 avril 1998 (unpaginated booklet and CD-Rom, Lille: Conseil Général du Nord, 2004) Neville, Cynthia J., Land, Law and People in Medi­eval Scotland (Chippenham: Edinburgh Uni­ver­sity Press, 2010) Oram, Richard D., ed., Life on the Edge: The Cistercian Abbey of Balmerino, Fife (Scotland), Cîteaux: Commentarii Cisterciensis, 59 (Pontigny: Cîteaux, 2008) O’Sullivan, Aidan, ‘Medi­eval Fishweirs on the Deel Estuary, Co. Limerick’, Archaeo­logy Ireland, 9.2 (1995), 15–17 —— , Foragers, Farmers and Fishers in a Coastal Landscape: An Intertidal Archaeo­logical Survey of the Shannon Estuary (Dublin: Discovery Programme/Royal Irish Academy, 2001) Reichstein, Hans, Untersuchungen an Tierknochen von der Isenburg bei Hattingen/Ruhr (Hattingen: Verein zur Erhaltung d. Isenburg, 1981) Rorke, Martin, ‘Scottish Overseas Trade, 1275/86–1597’, 2 vols (unpublished doctoral thesis, Uni­ver­sity of Edinburgh, 2001) ;  [accessed 10 March 2016] Ross, Alastair, ‘Recreating the Bannockburn Environment’, in Bannockburn, 1314–2014: Battle and Legacy, ed.  by Michael  A. Penman (Donnington: Shaun Tyas, 2016), pp. 96–110 Ryder, M.  L., ‘Remains of Fish and Other Aquatic Animals’, in Science in Archaeo­logy: A Survey of Progress and Research, ed. by Dan Brothwell and Eric Higgs, 2nd rev. edn (London: Thames & Hudson, 1969), pp. 386–88

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Santucci, M., ‘Nourritures et symboles dans le Banquet du Faisan et dans Jehan de Saintré’, in Manger et boire au Moyen Age: Actes du colloque de Nice, 1982, i: Aliments et société, Publications de la Faculté des lettres et sciences humaines de Nice, 27 (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1984), pp. 429–40 Serrano Larráyoz, Fernando, La mesa del rey: Cocina y régimen alimentario en la corte de Carlos III el noble de Navarra (1411–1425) (Pamplona: Gobierno de Navarra, 2002), pp. 200–07 Sigriður Pétursdóttir, ‘God’s Gift. Salmon Fishing in Iceland in the Middle Ages’, in North Atlantic Fisheries: Markets and Modernization, ed. by Poul Holm and David J. Starkey, Studia Atlantica, 2 (Ejsberg: Fisheri-og Søfartsmuseets Forlag, 1998), pp. 61–64 Taylor, Alice, ‘Leges Scocie and the Lawcodes of David I, William the Lion and Alexander II’, The Scottish Historical Review, 88.2 (2009), 207–88 Thorold Rogers, James E., A History of Agriculture and Prices in England, 7 vols (Oxford: Clarendon, 1866–1902) Watt, Donald E. R., and Norman F. Shead, The Heads of Religious Houses in Scotland from Twelfth to Sixteenth Centuries (Edinburgh: Scottish Record Society, 2001) Went, Arthur E. J., ‘Ancient Irish Fishing Weirs for Salmon’, in The Fishing Culture of the World, ed. by Bela Gunda, 2 vols (Budapest: Prometheus, 1984), i, 455–68 Williams, David H., The Welsh Cistercians (Pontypool: Griffin, 1969) Winchester, Angus J., Landscape and Society in Medi­eval Cumbria (Edinburgh: John Donald, 1987) Wright, Laura, Sources of London English: Medi­eval Thames Vocabulary (Oxford: Claren­ don, 1996)

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Riverine Monasticism in the Kingdom of Hungary: Navigation on the Lower Mureș and the Benedictine Abbey of Bizere Oana Toda*

T

he Lower Mureș Valley in present-day Romania is an area that was once part of the former kingdom of Hungary. Its medi­eval landscape includes a series of monastic foundations located along the riverbank. These establishments played an active role in the salt trade of the region and represent one of the dominant features of the kingdom’s historical geo­graphy during the rule of the Árpádian kings (1000–1301). The extraction and distribution of Transylvanian salt has always been studied from the perspective of the numerous charters issued in favour of the ecclesiastical institutions of the kingdom. These represent the main written sources regarding river navigation before the compilation of rafters’ privileges, guild statutes, and reports of the Habsburg officials on the organization of the salt chambers in the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. However, in contrast to some central areas of the Hungarian kingdom, no clear data or research goals have been set so far for the reconstruction of the archaeo­logical landscape from the perspective of historical hydromorpho­logy and rivers as means of communication.1 Several types of boats and rafts, as well  

* This work was made possible through the financial support of a grant of the Romanian National Authority for Scientific Research, CNCS — UEFISCDI, project number PN-II-RUTE-2012–3-0477. 1  On the large-scale drainage system from the Árpádian period, located between the Rábá and Rábca rivers (Hungary), see: Takács, ‘Medi­eval Hydraulic Systems’. Oana Toda ([email protected]) is a Museo­grapher and Medi­eval Archaeo­logist affiliated with the Department of History of the Mureș County Museum (Tîrgu Mureș, Romania). Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 477–502 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117275

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as ports, storage places, and toll-collection points, were often recorded on the main watercourses stretching across the former territory of the Hungarian kingdom. Nonetheless, an in-depth interrogation of the sources on a microregional level is likely to provide us with insight into the various aspects of the general topic of river transportation for trade or other purposes.

Riverine Salt Shipment and the Monastic Foundations Monastic wealth was closely related to royal privileges from salt revenues, and some of the Benedictine monasteries, along with other regional ecclesiastical institutions, dominated the salt trade during the period of the Árpádian dynasty (map 19.1). This was not necessarily due to their almost exclusive location in close proximity to the river, but rather related to the core principle of a royal strategy of involving the Church in the administration of the salt trade. This principle can be perceived in a charter known as the ‘Oath of Bereg’, issued by King Andrew II in 1233 that assigned responsibility for Transylvanian salt transportation to monastic foundations and ecclesiastical institutions across the kingdom while granting them substantial revenues in return.2 The document clearly states the amounts to be paid to religious houses, provided that they delivered shipments to the most favourable storing points, as well as the specific quantity of salt allocated to each foundation for their own use. Of the twenty-nine religious institutions mentioned in the 1233 charter, ten monasteries, the Cenad bishopric, and the Arad chapter were located in the Lower Mureș Valley. Bizere Abbey was one of the leading institutions on this list in terms of salt revenues. It appears that the ‘Oath of Bereg’ was not very efficient as it is never referred to again in later sources. However, several other individual charters issued during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries ensured the functioning of the royal salt shipment system.3 Later on, before the sixteenth century, the role 2  Documente privind istoria României: C.  Veacul  XI–XIII, ed.  by Roller and others, i, 264–70. For a detailed analysis of the document and the latest discussion on the administrative aspects of the salt trade during the Árpádian period see Romhányi, ‘Church and Salt’. 3  See for example the cases of: Dömös (1138: Documente privind istoria României: C. Veacul XI–XIII, ed. by Roller and others, i, 2–3), Nitra bishopric and Bizere (1183: Documente privind istoria României: C. Veacul XI–XIII, ed. by Roller and others, i, 9–10), Pannonhalma and the Arad chapter (Romania) (1211: Documente privind istoria României: C. Veacul XI– XIII, ed. by Roller and others, i, 152), Zagreb (1217: Documente privind istoria României: C. Veacul XI–XIII, ed. by Roller and others, i, 162), Igriş (1230: Documente privind istoria

Riverine Monasticism in the Kingdom of Hungary

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Map 19.1. Monastic foundations along the Mureş River in the time of the Árpádian dynasty. Map by the author.

of the monasteries diminished and salt chambers were administered under royal patronage only. Archival data allows us to reconstruct a more precise picture of these activities and of transport conditions. It is widely known that the Mureș waterway was used for carrying salt extracted from the Turda mines in the Turda county of Transylvania, and most of the landing stages, riverine toll-collection places, and storage points were found in proximity to monasteries or in their nearby lands stretching along the valley. The main points were the salt chambers and storing places at Vărădia de Mureş/Bulci, Chelmac, Lipova, Frumuşeni/ Sâmbăteni, Arad, Semlac, Igriș, Cenad (all located in Romania), and Szeged (Hungary). The royal house collected salt directly from these ecclesiastical sites or from Szeged (the main royal transhipment point) after paying the transportation fees according to the set provisions. Several rural communities in the service of monastic sites called salinarii (salt people) were tasked with bringing salt from Transylvania. However, in the course of time the iobagi (serfs) recorded in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries were replaced by the nautae, celeristae, or Schieffleuten (specialized communities of sailors), often organized României: C. Veacul XI–XIII, ed. by Roller and others, i, 242), and those of the military orders (1222: Urkundenbuch, ed. by Zimmermann and Werner, i, 19; 1238: Documente privind istoria României: C. Veacul XI–XIII, ed. by Roller and others, i, 306–07).

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in guilds. The salt shipments were made when the water levels were favourable, from spring until autumn and using at least three types of boat.

The River Island and Historical Hydromorpho­logy It was from this geo­g raphical, economic, and spiritual milieu that the Benedictine monastic complex of Bizere or Bisra emerged and functioned between the twelfth and the sixteenth centuries. The archaeo­logical remains of this royal foundation dedicated to the Virgin Mary are located near the village of Frumuşeni/Schöndorf in Arad county, on a former island of the River Mureş. Memory of the location of Bizere has been preserved mostly by carto­ graphic sources from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, in spite of the fact that at present the location is a rather dry landscape in the river floodplain. The historical maps recorded the local toponymy even after the decline of the monastic complex. The earliest relevant maps date back to the sixteenth century. One such map compiled by Lazarus places Bizere south of the river and east of Zeudi, property of the Pósa family and the site of a castle and a marketplace at the end of the medi­eval period.4 Several other maps record the name between the middle of the sixteenth and the end of the seventeenth centuries, but no large-scale carto­graphic source is known to exist from this period, thus depriving scholars of any detailed early modern data on the location of the monastery. It was not until the second half of the eighteenth century that several topo­ graphic maps and plans were compiled by the Habsburg authorities; these fulfilled military purposes and aided practically in river regulation. Consequently, the special toponymy related to the monastery was recorded on an island south of the settlements of Cicir and Mândruloc and north-east of Frumuşeni. In 1764–65, one plan merely marked the place as Monostor.5 In 1776, the socalled ‘Ideal Plan von der Situation der Marosch bey Monderlak’ recorded the toponym ‘Ins. Monostor’ in that location.6 The presence of the actual ruins of the abbey was pointed out in 1785 as ‘Rudera Monostor’ north-east of Zeudi.7 4 

Meschendörfer and Mittelstraß, Siebenbürgen auf alten Karten, map microfiche. Plan von Maros Flus in wie weit solcher Anno 1764 et von Lippa bis Makko Gemessen woeden, 74 × 35 cm, Budapest, MOL Térképtár, Kamarai térképek, Identifier: S 11 no. 0301. 6  Budapest, MOL Térképtár, Kamarai térképek, Identifier: S 11 no.  1104. The same toponym appears on several other maps, including the First Military Survey of the Habsburg Empire, 1:28800, coll. XXIV, sectio XXXII, digitized at Historical Maps of the Habsburg Empire. 7  Györffy, Az Árpád-kori Magyarország történeti, i, 173–74. 5 

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Map 19.2. Detail from the Delineatio Dominii regio Cameralis Aradiensis, 73 × 54 cm, 1786, a digital copy hosted online at Budapest, MOL Térképtár, Kamarai térképek, Identifier: S 11 No 1729.

The site was also implied in 1786 by the abbreviation ‘Ins. et Pr. Monostor’ (map 19.2).8 Historical carto­g raphy can also help in distinguishing between the main channel of the river and the smaller ones. Several of the aforementioned documents clearly show that the main channel was situated north of the abbey, while the southern one was secondary. This is probably the reason why the Second Military Survey of the Habsburg Empire merely points towards a dry riverbed to the south, encircling the site from three directions by the latter half of the nineteenth century (map 19.3).9 By this time even the toponym referring to the island was either lost or omitted. The extent of the geomorpho­logy of the watercourse and the changes in the old riverbed features can be identified by retracing and digitizing the active river channels from different historical periods and today (fig. 19.3). It becomes quite obvious that the Bizere monastic site is located on slightly higher ground than the rest of the floodplain around it. Moreover, the variations in the configuration of the riverbed indicate that during previous centuries the site or the ruins shared a closer connection with the river and its accelerated hydromorpho­logy. 8  Delineatio Dominii regio Cameralis Aradiensis, 73 × 54 cm, Budapest, MOL Térképtár, Kamarai térképek, Identifier: S 11 no. 1729. 9  See Historical Maps of the Habsburg Empire , approximate coordinates: 21.47817 E, 46.11267 N.

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Map 19.3. Reconstruction of the historical riverbed and old secondary channels of the Mureș River in the area of Bizere Abbey. Map by the author.

This particular finding necessitates further scrutiny given that a royal charter from 1183 states that the salt privileges were granted to the bishop of Nitra following an example previously set for Bizere.10 The document is of special value as it connects the monastery to salt transportation and thus to inland navigation. Its contents establish several research aims for this study and raise some questions related to the monastery’s location, which can be regarded as either isolated, or as favouring good trading connections.

On-Site Evidence of Water Level Changes Apart from carto­g raphic documents, large-scale landscape features of an archaeo­logical zone can also be supported by written evidence. Unfortunately, this is not the case for Bizere Abbey, as almost all the surviving medi­eval documents that refer to the nearby lands of the monastery are very fragmentary and vague in providing such details.11 10 

‘Preterea tres naues saliferas ea libertate, quam habent naues Monasterij de Bisra in emendo et deferendo sale, siue Orodini, siue in Ciggedin seruari placuerit, Nitriensi Ecclesie concessi, et ad preces Episcopi, si potuerit naues habere sufficientes, quod tribus vijs deduci debet, ut una via deducatur, ex Regia liberalitate adieci’, Codex diplomaticus, ed. by Wenzel, xi, 47–48. 11  Several refer to the properties of the abbey found in close vicinity to or on neighbouring lands. Most of them belonged to the Arad (Orod) chapter or the Pósa de Szer noble family

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Figure 19.1. Magnetic intensity at Bizere archaeo­logical site, with geo­logical features indicated by a dotted line and the position of the geoelectrical resistivity in sections 3, 4, 10, and 11. Image courtesy of L. Lenkey, Archive of the Bizere Monastery Archaeo­logical Site.

The archaeo­logical data retrieved from eleven research campaigns are crucial as a substitute for written sources to retrace at least some parts of the island’s configuration, and the influence that the watercourse and water level had on its historical geomorpho­logy. Additional information was also generated by recent geophysical surveys conducted on most of the site’s surface.12 and, unfortunately, contain no precise topo­graphical details; for an overview see Burnichioiu, ‘Privilegii, posesiuni, venituri’. 12  Investigations conducted by Dr László Lenkey, Department of Geophysics and Space Science, Eötvös Loránd Uni­ver­sity, Budapest: ‘Report on the Geophysical Measurements’.

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Figure 19.2. Geoelectrical resistivity sections from the north-eastern corner of the Bizere archaeo­ logical site. Image courtesy of L. Lenkey, Archive of the Bizere Monastery Archaeo­logical Site.

The results of both the magnetic and geoelectric surveys retrieved some obvious geo­logical features. Among these are the former riverbank configuration in the south-western part of the archaeo­logical zone as well as the traces of an intense process of erosion that affected the north-eastern corner of the site (fig. 19.2). While the riverbank configuration suggests a long-standing pattern, it must be emphasized that the erosion was the result of a hydromorpho­logical process dating back to the period when the abbey was still active, as well as to subsequent centuries. This latter feature was also recorded by electric resistivity. At the northern ends of Sections 3 and 4 the high intensity gravel is missing, indicating the existence of a branch of the river in an earlier period that was later filled with sand and silt, and which now shows low resistivity (fig. 19.1). The relative chrono­logy of this process of erosion was provided through archaeo­logical excavations which revealed that the western end of the so-called abbot’s palace, half of the main apse, and the entire northern apse of the basilica

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Figure 19.3. Damage by the water flow on the main and northern collateral apses of the Bizere Abbey basilica. Photo by F. Mărginean, 2004, Archive of the Bizere Monastery Archaeo­logical Site.

were destroyed by the flow of water (fig. 19.3). The main damage to these buildings took place after the site was abandoned by the middle of the sixteenth century. This, therefore, represents a modern process that happened prior to the nineteenth century, when the secondary river branch was no longer recorded as being active. Apart from these obvious changes in the average water level and the erosive impact of the Mureș during the modern period, the archaeo­logical features recorded in the northern part of the excavated area indicate that these modifications started to affect the site at an earlier date, most likely on a seasonal basis. The construction of what appears to have been a wooden enclosure west of the abbot’s palace, the chapel, and the basilica generated a valuable strati­ graphical situation that suggested a number of conclusions regarding the onset of the negative hydromorpho­logical impact.13 The wooden structure consisted of a network of beams and posts which had a north-east/south-west orienta13 

The feature was partly excavated during the archaeo­logical campaigns from the years 2001, 2007–09, and 2014.

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Figure 19.4. Ground plan of the built structures from the north-eastern corner of the Bizere monastic complex. Image by A. A. Rusu, I. Burnichioiu, and O. Toda, Archive of the Bizere Monastery Archaeo­logical Site.

tion, running in parallel to the western ends of the main building constructions (fig. 19.4). So far, it can be stated with certainty that it covered a distance of approximately 40 m in the northern half of the site. Its foundation is represented by two parallel longitudinal trenches which seem to have been used to sustain thick wooden posts that were clearly identified at the bottom by their post holes, still preserved in the geo­logical layers of river gravel. The distance between the two rows is approximately 1.80 m and the width of the foundation trenches varies between 0.20 m and 0.40 m. The total length of the structure was divided into several longitudinal sectors, separated by the east–west insertion of transversal beams. In the space found between the eastern and western pole rows, a few post holes with a large diameter, sometimes measuring 0.50 m, were also uncovered. West of the palisade, located beyond an approximately 0.90 m wide berm, ran a V-shaped ditch, with a maximum width of 5 m in the upper part and drastically shrinking to only 0.60 m at the bottom; the maximum depth recorded was 1.9 m. The steepest slope was found to the east, where the palisade was located. It cut through all the previous layers and had silt deposits on the sides and the bottom, indicating the presence of water containing alluvial material. This feature would have lasted only a short period of time as its slopes were dug in gravel and sand and no escarpment work could be identified.

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The built beam-and-pole structure and the corresponding ditch represent late additions to the monastic complex. The wooden foundations pierced through at least two layers of river alluvia, consisting either of gravel or mud silt. The fill of the palisade’s foundation trenches also contained ceramic shards, dated to the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Conclusions relating to the relative chrono­logy of these accretions are supported by the fact that the palisade foundations and ditch cut into the layer resulting from the stone processing and carving from the earliest major construction phase. This led to the building of the abbey church in the north-eastern sector. Whether this structure was also meant to protect the higher ground of the site from the infiltration of flood waters remains to be resolved. For the moment, it is understood that the context and conditions of its use were similar to that of the Dominican nunnery on Margaret Island in Budapest. A similar defensive structure was employed on the eastern bank of Margaret Island during the first half of the sixteenth century to repel an Ottoman siege. As documented by the siege map of Enea Vico (1542) as well as by archaeo­logical investigations, the poles surrounded by boughs had some defensive function over a short period of time and they may have played a role in protecting the already abandoned nunnery buildings from flood waters.14 A better indicator for the constant danger represented by the Mureș River was the water tower, which basically was a protective structure for the monastery’s central well. Even now, it stands as a block of compact masonry built out of brick and highly resistant mortar which prevented the flood waters from reaching the drinking water above and below ground.15 The archaeo­logical features listed above seem to correspond with data recorded across the Carpathian Basin for the average changes to the water level that occurred at the end of the Medi­e val Climatic Anomaly (MCA) and the beginning of the Little Ice Age (LIA), a gradual process that started in the fourteenth century.16 In fact, this was the period when a charter records serious winter floods in Transylvania or in the eastern part of the Great Hungarian Kingdom.17

14 

Vadas, ‘Long-Term Perspectives on River Floods’, pp. 79–80 (fig. 3). Rusu, ‘Turnul cu fântână’, pp. 55–56. 16  For further details and delimitations between the two, see: Rácz, ‘The Price of Survival’, p. 24; Vadas and Rácz, ‘Climatic Changes’; Kiss, ‘Floods and Long-Term Water-Level Changes’, pp. 14 and 62–63. 17  Kiss, ‘Floods and Long-Term Water-Level Changes’, pp. 269–70. 15 

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The Benedictine Water Management System: Navigation and Mooring The river did not always impact negatively on the everyday activities on the island; otherwise the initial choice of this particular setting would have been meaningless. A slightly different landscape configuration for the early period of the monastery’s existence (the twelfth and thirteenth centuries) needs to be imagined, even considering the absence of drastic seasonal rises in the water level with negative consequences. It was argued earlier that the foundation and development of Bizere Abbey and other such monastic sites was connected to the Mureș River acting as an inland navigation axis for Transylvanian salt transportation. The documents listing various royal privileges granted to ecclesiastical communities confirm such a view and suggest that the monastery was part of this long-distance network. In addressing the long-distance heavy shipments that the monastery was engaged in, several questions arise with regard to the origin and transportation of important resources other than salt, such as building materials. Some preliminary conclusions can be drawn as to the part of the island where these were deposited and processed. This was the same north-eastern part where intense erosion had taken place and where the archaeo­logical layer that had resulted from stone carving was discovered. This layer mostly comprised sandstone and limestone and reached a maximum thickness of around 0.40 m. It is only natural to assume that the stone carving was carried out in close proximity to the building for which the material was destined, in this instance, the main church. However, in the case of Bizere Abbey this was also the first point reached by water in the course of downstream navigation. Thus the location suggests that some types of material such as sandstone and limestone could have been extracted from quarries found upstream and hauled to the site by water. This is supported by results from petro­graphic and mineralogical analysis of the stone that indicated that some of the construction material may have originated from local deposits in the Southern Apuseni Mountains (Drocea Mountains) situated further up the river (map 19.4).18 Moreover, the excavation revealed the existence of one circular pillar by the riverside and north of the so-called abbot’s palace (fig. 19.5).19 The masonry employed for construction — stone and brick with mortar — is quite similar to that used for the palace, and the close proximity allows us to associate the pillar’s use with this specific construction. No strati­g raphic evidence can 18  19 

Bajnóczi and others, ‘Archaeometric Analysis of the Mosaic’, p. 274. In archaeo­logical trenches 85/2008 and 88/2008.

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Map 19.4. Sources of the lithic building material employed in the construction of Bizere Abbey according to the petro­graphic analysis. Map by the author.

Figure 19.5. Circular pillar from the north-eastern corner of the monastic complex. Photo by C. Derzsi, 2008, Archive of the Bizere Monastery Archaeo­logical Site.

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Figure 19.6. Embankment work at the eastern limit of the monastery island. Photo by D. Csongor, 2009, Archive of the Bizere Monastery Archaeo­logical Site.

support this assumption, however, as the river erosion wiped out all possible traces of a construction layer or a floor surface for the medi­eval period south of these ruins. The pillar was preserved as a circular six-apse structure: 1.70 m in diameter and 1.04 m in height. Here, brick was used only in the upper part and the five remaining courses only have partially carved stone material. It was positioned in the area affected by water erosion that included the north-eastern corner of the palace and one can assume that it probably sustained some wooden upper structure in the form of a pier platform. North of the pillar, the geo­logical deposition layers drop at a 40-degree angle which implies that the water flow was reaching that spot even when there were no floods, thus suggesting evidence for the actual riverbank. This was also the strati­g raphic situation recorded by the geoelectric measurements as the resistivity was at its lowest in the exact same area indicating that silt depositions formed here at some point.20 The presence of the riverbank and the stone carving layer suggest that from the beginning this area must have had some utilitar20 

Lenkey, ‘Report on the Geophysical Measurements’.

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ian construction connected to water transportation in order to ease the offloading of cargo. A structure of as of yet unidentified function belongs to another group of riverside constructions identified to date at Bizere. This was partially uncovered at the eastern limit of the complex, further downstream from the two pillars and close to the refectory, with a general north–south orientation. It was made up of two sections, of which the southern one has been studied in greater detail. Its inner length is 9.70 m, while its width measures around 4 m. The perimeter walls were made of stone material, including some reused ashlar stones which were identified on the northern facade of the middle wall that separated the two sectors. The entire area was affected by silting, indicating that water was reaching beyond the eastern boundary of this structure. From the beginning, this stone masonry was built into a geo­logical bed of sand and silt. The presence of large stones propped up against the old riverbank to the west, marking the inner space towards that direction, could be interpreted as embankment work, intended to stop the erosive action of the water (fig. 19.6). The ground plan and the presence of uniform alluvial deposits below the demolition layer could indicate that the water was stagnant, suggesting a wharf-like function for this construction. Silting and changes in the water level probably determined the need to construct a brick embankment,21 which eventually collapsed towards the east, and led to the abandonment of its previous function. Later, on top of all the layers, a compacted level consisting of fragmentary bricks was added, suggesting that the building had lost its initial purpose.

River Boats and the Abbey’s Communication with the Surrounding Areas The existence of wharfs or piers was necessary for mooring the boats used by the monastery. Written documents describing the Mureş Valley are not precise when it comes to naming ships, but by 1183 Bizere Abbey owned several socalled naves, and their presence is mentioned in thirteenth-century charters.22 Charters from other monastic sites show that this phenomenon predated the earliest written evidence preserved for Bizere. By 1138, the transport obligations of the inhabitants of Şeitin in Arad County, connected to the salt rev21  The use of ceramic building material was recorded for construction works dated to the thirteenth century or even later. See for example the chapel located north of the abbey church, Burnichioiu, ‘Capela funerară’, pp. 70–71. 22  1211: Documente privind istoria României: C. Veacul XIV, ed. by Roller and others, iv, 152.

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enues of Dömös monastery in Hungary, were already established. 23 The rafters were tasked with making six salt transports annually using two ships. Moreover, the settlement of Sâmbăteni, located across the main river branch to the north-east of Bizere, is recorded in the same document as a salt storage place, thus giving an insight into what could have hapFigure 19.7. Seal of the urban authorities of Lipova, pened to the salt the monMagyar Országos Levéltár, P 692 Ujhelyi család astery received from the [Hungarian National Archives, P 692 Ujhelyi family fund], 29 March 1544. Photo by A. Magina, Crown.24 A direct connecMuseum of Banat Mountain Area, Reșița. tion between the monastery and this northern estate from Sâmbăteni is confirmed only at a later date, as fifteenth-century sources mention that the abbey owned parts of this estate.25 In addition, an early sixteenth-century document lists Bizere Abbey as one of the toll-collection points for inland navigation, namely, for the transportation of wood on the Mureș River by the iobagi from the settlements of Șoimoș and Subcetate (located upstream).26 Distinguishing between the various types of medi­eval watercraft navigating the Transylvanian rivers has proved to be a difficult task, especially as scholars have dismissed them by emphasizing the importance of rafts and logboats. Lacking almost any clear archaeo­logical evidence, the medi­e val termino­logy employed by medi­e val charters was also widely ignored and most scholarly 23 

Documente privind istoria României: C. Veacul XI–XIII, ed. by Roller and others, i, 2–3; Kovach, ‘Date cu privire la transportul sării pe Mureş’, p. 195. 24  ‘In uilla Sahut sunt allatores Salis […]. Isti per anum sexies redeunt de vltrasiluanus partibus usque ad forum Sumbuth cum duabus nauibus’, Monumenta ecclesiae Strigoniensis, ed. by Knauz, p. 94. 25  Burnichioiu, ‘Privilegii, posesiuni, venituri’, p. 29. 26  Dörner and Kovách, ‘Documente ale fondului Brandenburg’, p. 502 (1514: in abbacia Byzere).

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assumptions were not supported by definitive proof. The visual sources pertaining to the cultural and economic milieu of the Mureș Valley include only one image related to watercraft and that is of little benefit to the actual reconstruction of a boat. The image depicts a boat, with a mast or a cross in the top middle part, on several town seals of Lipova (salt chamber and regional urban centre found upstream), dated to the first half of the sixteenth century (fig. 19.7).27 However, this simple image clearly indicates the presence of the intense riverine navigation occurring during that period and the links to the late medi­eval town. A rather poor overall picture regarding boat or ship types in this territory is also due to vague wording in documents that usually record only general terms such as naves and the specific characteristics of these boats cannot be inferred. Some local terms mentioned in the thirteenth- and sixteenth-century sources are also quite difficult to interpret. A document issued in 1248 makes a clear distinction between the terms kerep and olch.28 The same is true for the naviculis (smaller boat) relating to its dimensions and toll taxation. Another thirteenth-century charter recorded a boat classification in which different tolls were to be paid for each type of boat. This is a document initially issued by King Andrew II (1205–35) which provides evidence for the existence of three categories of ship sailing on the Mureş River.29 These categories seem to be based on their hauling capacity, with one type of boat being described according to the traits of plank watercraft (‘carina seu nave magna’).30 This particular term was also recorded for the ships moving on the Danube between Vienna and Budapest during the fourteenth century.31 27 

‘Documentele autorităților urbane din Lipova’, ed. by Magina, pp. 611 and 615–16. ‘Concedimus etiam ut de navi quae kerep dicitur ultra Morisium secatur solvat fertonem et de navi olch dimidium, de naviculis vero tria pondera, de argento terrae, sed cum statera supra dicta, sicut consueverunt canonici accipere Albenses super aquam’, Urkundenbuch, ed. by Zimmermann and Werner, i, 77. 29  1289: Urkundenbuch, ed. by Zimmermann and Werner, i, 161. Reproduction of the document issued by King Andrew II: ‘quod quidem eorundem privilegium a rege Andrea cla[rae memoriae avo] nostro datum et concessum videlicet de qualibet carina seu nave magna dimidiam marcam, de mediocri vero vel parva unum fertonem tempore Geanini filii Alardi [in concrematione] ecclesiae beati Mychaelis combustum exstitisset’. 30  During Roman times it was used to name the longitudinal component to which the ribs and planks were all attached; see Reddé, Mare nostrum, p. 23. It appears that the term was transmitted to Central European regions through the maritime termino­logy of the Levant, while in the north-western parts of the Continent a new term was introduced by the Vikings, namely, keel, see: Pomey and Reith, L’archeo­logie navale, p. 58. 31  1370: ‘quod mercatores praedictae civitatis nostrae Zybiniensis a Vyenna in eodem flu28 

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Figure 19.8. Iron sintels used for plank boats and repair patches retrieved from the Bizere archaeo­logical site. Photo courtesy of the Arad County Museum.

In addition, another term for watercraft was recorded in the middle of the sixteenth century on the Someș River, in north-western Transylvania. The ‘naves rostratae’ were mentioned in the report of Georg Werner from 1552 as the large boats built at Dej for the annual salt transport to Hungary.32 They were generally admitted to be rafts by Romanian scholars, but the presence of a prow (rostra), the pointed part at the front of the watercraft, suggests a more complex structure.33 This is especially significant if one takes into consideration that these are larger than the naves built in Turda.34 Another late medi­eval official report on Transylvanian salt exploitation employs the term koczy to describe local small boats used on the Arieș watercourse and on the middle Mureș channel.35 vio Danubii usque Budam tam magnas quam parvas naves seu carinas’ (Urkundenbuch, ed. by Ziemmerman, Werner, and Müller, ii, 337–39). 32  Călători străini, ed. and trans. by Holban and others, ii, 30. 33  Early modern sources mention that the rafts were only sailing downstream, while their timber was sold at Szeged. But some of the ships or boats were more complex and upstream navigation could have been possible. In 1230 a charter probably mentions two-way navigation on the Mureş watercourse. 34  The boats from Turda were described by the same official as being 30 feet long (approximately 15 m) and 15 feet wide (approximately 7.5 m). According to Zsolt Simon this type of watercraft was 9.4 m long and 4.7 m wide; see: ‘Mineritul de sare în Evul Mediu în Transilvania şi Maramureş’, p. 94. 35  The big and medium ships had the same shape, the differences being set by their dimensions. For the Romanian translation of the 1528 report of Hans Dernschwam on the exploitation of the Transylvanian salt mines, see: Călători străini, ed. and trans. by Holban and others, i, 270.

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This could refer to a boat with reduced hauling capacity similar to that of wagons (kocsi in Hungarian), as the report clearly states that this was the smallest type of salt-carrying vessel. These were used by the rafters to handle small quantities of salt for their own use and were not meant for large-scale transport. Archaeo­logical research from Bizere has brought to light additional data which enhances information from the archival sources. For example, a large number of round-shaped sintels used for fastening plank components and repairing patches of boats have been retrieved from the site (fig. 19.8).36 The iron artefacts have pointed ends that can be bent and nailed into the wood, while the middle part is wider and oval or somewhat circular. These have been associated with boat finds from around Europe.37 In Hungary one can take note of those examples dated to the Ottoman period as exemplified by a shipwreck from Solt.38 Furthermore, the mortar imprint of a boat was unearthed at Bizere, in an area south of the water tower (fig. 19.9). This boat had been reused for the preparation of mortar and this particular secondary use favoured the preservation of its shape and main technical characteristics (12.25 m long, 1.15–1.20 m wide, 0.48 m exterior height). Despite the fact that its general appearance points to a plank watercraft, an in-depth analysis suggests that the discovery represents a single-piece boat, namely a logboat.39 Based on the archaeo­logical context of the discovery, the change of function was dated to the twelfth century and its construction could have taken place even in the second half of the eleventh century. Large logboats with similar dimensions were suitable for heavy transport, but were also essential for local or micro-regional transport purposes.40 It would be logical to assume that the function of a toll-collection point, as at Bizere, implied the management and redirection of salt and other products, hence, a suitable environment for large logboats. 36 

In storage at the Arad County Museum; for detailed entries also see Monastic Life, Art and Techno­logy Database, ed. by Toda and others, nos 7–9, 14, and 131–35. 37  Ossowski, ‘Changes’, pp. 130, 133. One can also find scarce evidence for the use of sintels in icono­graphic documents such as the Zechbuch der Salzfertiger und Schiffsleute, from 1422, where the planks of a boat were fastened together with the help of what appears to be this particular type of nails. 38  Tóth, ‘Adatok’, pp. 876–77. 39  For further details on the technical characteristics of the boat and its interpretation, see Rusu and Toda, ‘Archaeo­logical Evidence for Historical Navigation’. 40  Some examples from Northern Europe were able to carry three to five tons of cargo (Ossowski, ‘Changes’, pp. 129–30).

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Figure 19.9. Mortar imprint of the logboat. Photo by F. Mărginean, published by Rusu and Toda, ‘Archaeo­ logical Evidence for His­ torical Navigation’, p. 145.

Logboats were also used for fishing. This situation can be imagined for Bizere Abbey, as it is only natural to think that food resources at hand were exploited. Moreover, archaeo­logical evidence retrieved from the site in the form of fish bones and scales, and iron fishing hooks prove that fishing was an activity at the monastery (fig. 19.10).41 It remains unclear whether fishing was 41 

In storage at the Arad County Museum under inventory numbers 17485 a–c. For individual entries also see Monastic Life, Art and Techno­logy Database, ed. by Toda and others, nos 3–6.

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Figure 19.10. Large fishing hooks found at the Bizere archaeo­logical site. Image courtesy of the Arad County Museum.

undertaken with the help of a large boat like the one imprinted in the mortar or with the help of smaller ones that were more suitable for river fishing as they were easier to steer.42 The river did not completely isolate the island from the surrounding dry land as the presence of horseshoes and spurs among archaeo­logical finds indicates that communication with higher ground was possible through the use of shallow waters or even a fording point. In the south-western area, on the first terrace of the Mureș River, the remains of a village with a necropolis were uncovered by archaeo­logists in 1948 and 1981, and were identified as the medi­ eval village of Bizere.43 In that particular area the high river terrace presents a mild slope towards the secondary river branch and the island. Moreover, the wooden structure flanking the church, chapel, and palace could indicate fairly easy communication with that area. Medi­e val charters do not record fords found on the abbey estate, but there is evidence for a toll collected on the lands of the Pósa family (Zeudi). Furthermore, a document from 1354 records the attacks committed on the boatman of the noble family by royal troops when they reached this point by water. Apparently, they chased away the boatman who was probably ensuring a safe ferry crossing.44 The document is especially important because it clearly states that people were using the waterway as a transportation channel. Boats were reaching the port of the Pósa family and it is highly likely that a ferry crossing with a designated ferryman existed. 42 

Ossowski, Przemiany w szkutnictwie, p. 193; Rogers, ‘Czech Logboats’, p. 196. Popescu, ‘Cercetările arheo­logice’, pp. 91–92; Rusu, ‘Frumuşeni. Jurnal de şantier’. 44  Boldea, ‘Structuri domeniale’, p. 246. 43 

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Conclusion It can be stated that the island location did not always benefit the Benedictine community of Bizere, but it certainly did not impede the monastery from acquiring lands and developing activities on both sides of the river while also displaying a dominance of the watercourse both locally and regionally. This accounts for the techno­logical advances of the medi­e val monastic landscape that fit perfectly into the economic environment of the abbey and the local topo­graphy of the site. The case of Bizere Abbey points to the scarcity of information on the medi­e val riverside landscape, and that future research should focus on regional and local examples that would help to establish a more coherent picture of the region’s inland navigation system.

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Works Cited Manu­scripts and Archival Sources Budapest, Magyar Országos Levéltár. Térképtár, Kamarai térképek, S 11 no. 0301, Plan von Maros Flus in wie weit solcher Anno 1764 et von Lippa bis Makko Gemessen woeden, digitized by Arcanum Adatbázis Kft [accessed 1 October 2014] —— , S 11 no. 1104, ‘Ideal Plan von der Situation der Marosch bey Monderlak’, digitized by Arcanum Adatbázis Kft [accessed 1 October 2014] —— , S 11 no. 1729, Delineatio Dominii regio Cameralis Aradiensis, digitized by Arcanum Adatbázis Kft [accessed 1 October 2014]

Primary Sources Călători străini în țările române [Foreign Travellers in the Romanian Principalities], i–ii, ed. and trans. by Maria Holban and others (Bucharest: Editura Academiei Române, 1968–70) Codex diplomaticus Arpadianus continuatus/Árpádkori új okmánytár [Documents from the Árpád Period], ix, ed. by Gustav Wenzel (Pest: Eggenberger Ferdinánd Akademiai, 1873) ‘Documente ale fondului Brandenburg cu privire la campania lui Gh.  Doja în valea Mureșului’ [‘Documents from the Brandenburg Fond regarding Gh. Doja’s Campaign in the Mureș Valley’], ed. by Egon Dörner and Géza Kovách, Studii: Revistă de Istorie, 17 (1964), 495–518 ‘Documentele autorităților urbane din Lipova (1455–1548)’ [‘Documents of Lipova Ur­ ban Authorities (1455–1548)’], ed. by Adrian Magina, Banatica, 23 (2013), 599–617 Documente privind istoria României: Seria C: Veacul XI, XII, XIII [Documents concerning the History of Romania: C. Transylvania: The Eleventh, Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries], i: 1075–1250, ed. and trans. by Mihail Roller and others (Bucharest: Edi­ tura Academiei Române, 1951) Documente privind istoria României: Seria  C: Transilvania. Veacul  XIV [Documents con­cerning the History of Romania: C. Transylvania: The Fourteenth Century], iv: 1341–1350, ed. and trans. by Mihail Roller and others (Bucharest: Editura Academiei Române, 1955) Historical Maps of the Habsburg Empire, Österreichische Staatsarchiv Vienna, digitized by Arcanum Adatbázis Kft [accessed 1 April 2015] Meschendörfer, Hans, and Otto Mittelstraß, Siebenbürgen auf alten Karten: Lazarus — Tann­stetter 1528, Johannes Honterus 1532, Wolfgang Lazius 1552/56 (Gundelsheim: Arbeitskreis für Siebenbürgische Landeskunde Heidelberg, 1996) Monastic Life, Art and Techno­logy at the Bizere Monastery Database, ed. by Oana Toda and others (online artefact database hosted by the ‘1 Decembrie 1918’ Uni­ver­ sity of Alba Iulia) [accessed 1 December 2015]

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Monumenta ecclesiae Strigoniensis, ed. by Ferdinandus Knauz (Strigonii: Horák, 1874) Urkundenbuch zur Geschichte der Deutschen in Siebenbürgen, i: 1191–1342 and ii: 1342–1390, ed. by Franz Zimmermann, Carl Werner, and Georg Müller (Hermann­ stadt: Ausschuss des Vereins für siebenbürgische Landeskunde, 1892–97)

Secondary Works Anghel, Georghe, and Viorica Suciu, ‘Mărturii ale practicării plutăritului în Transilvania din antichitate, evul mediu şi perioada modernă. Rolul oraşului Alba Iulia în istoria plutăritului’ [‘Evidence of Transylvanian Rafting from Antiquity, the Middle Ages and the Modern Period. The Role of Alba Iulia in Rafting History’], Apulum, 40 (2004), 367–86 Bajnóczi, Bernadett, and others, ‘Archaeometric Analysis of Mosaic Tesserae and a “Red Marble” Decorative Stone from the Bizere Monastery (Arad County, Romania)’, in Monastic Life, Art and Techno­logy in the 11th–16th Centuries, ed.  by Ileana Burni­ chioiu, Annales Universitatis Apulensis. S.  H. Special Issue (Cluj-Napoca: Mega Publishing, 2015), pp. 261–74 Boldea, Ligia, ‘Structuri domeniale în Banatul medi­eval de câmpie. Date asupra patrimoniului funciar al unui comite de Caraș din perioada angevină’ [‘Manor Structures in the Medi­eval Banat Plain. Data on the Real Estate Ownership of a Caraș County Earl from the Angevine Period’], Analele Banatului: Arheo­logie-Istorie, 21 (2013), 233–49 Burnichioiu, Ileana, ‘Mănăstirea Bizere în izvoare scrise. Secolele XII–XVI. 2. Privilegii, posesiuni, venituri’ [‘Bizere Monastery in Written Sources. 12th–16th Centuries. 2. Privileges, Properties, Incomes’], in Mănăstirea Bizere, i, ed. by Adrian A. Rusu and Ileana Burnichioiu (Cluj-Napoca: Mega Publishing, 2011), pp. 25–36 —— , ‘Componente de arhitectură şi instalaţii utilitare. 2. Capela funerară’ [‘Architectural Components and Utilitarian Features. 2. The Funerary Chapel’], in Mănăstirea Bizere, i, ed.  by Adrian  A. Rusu and Ileana Burnichioiu (Cluj-Napoca: Mega Publishing, 2011), pp. 61–78 Gere, László, Késő középkori és kora újkori fémleletek az ozorai várkastélyból [Late Medi­eval and Early Modern Metal Artefacts in Ozora Castle], Opuscula Hungarica, 4, Ozorai várkastély régészeti monografiai, 1 (Budapest: Magyar Nemzeti Múzeum, 2003) Györffy, György, Az Árpád-kori Magyarország történeti földrajza [Historical Geo­graphy of Árpád Period Hungary], i (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1966) Iambor, Petru, ‘Drumuri şi vămi ale sării din Transilvania în perioada feudalismului timpuriu’ [‘Salt Routes and Toll-Collection Points from Transylvania during the Early Feudal Period’], Acta Musei Napocensis, 19 (1982), 75–85 Kiss, Andrea, ‘Floods and Long-Term Water-Level Changes in Medi­eval Hungary’ (un­ published doctoral thesis, Central European Uni­ver­sity of Budapest, 2011) Kovach, Géza, ‘Date cu privire la transportul sării pe Mureş în secolele X-XIII’ [‘Data Concerning the Salt Transportation on the Mureș River between the Tenth and Thirteenth Centuries’], Ziridava, 12 (1980), 194–95

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Lenkey, László, ‘Report on the Geophysical Measurements at the Bizere Monastery in 2013 Made for the “1 Decembrie 1918” Uni­ver­sity of Alba Iulia’ (unpublished report, Budapest: Department of Geophysics and Space Science, Eötvös Loránd Uni­ver­sity, 2014) Móré Heitel, Susanna, ‘Monostorok a Maros Mentén’ [‘Monasteries along the Mureș River’], in Paradisum plantavit: Bencés monostorok a középkori Magyarországon. Bene­ dictine Monasteries in Medi­eval Hungary, ed. by Imre Takács (Pannonhalma: Pannon­ halmi Bencés Főapátság, 2001), pp. 267–74 —— , Începuturile artei medi­evale în bazinul inferior al Mureșului [The Beginnings of Medi­eval Art in the Lower Basin of Mureș River] (Timișoara: Excelsior Art, 2010) Ossowski, Waldemar, ‘Changes in the Medi­eval River Boat- and Shipbuilding in Poland’, Skyllis, 10.2 (2010), 128–34 —— , Przemiany w szkutnictwie rzecznym w Polsce. Studium archeo­logiczne [Changes in Medi­eval Boat- and Shipbuilding in Poland. An Archaeo­logical Study] (Gdańsk: Cen­ tralne Muzeum Morskie, 2010) Pomey, Patrice, and Eric Reith, L’archeo­logie navale (Paris: Errance, 2005) Popescu, Dorin, ‘Cercetările arheo­logice din R. P. R. din anul 1948. Județul Arad. Fru­ muşeni’ [‘Archaeo­logical Research from the P. R. R. in 1948. Arad County. Fru­mu­ şeni’], Studii: Revistă de știință și filosofie, 2 (1949), 91–93 Rácz, Lajos, ‘The Price of Survival: Transformations in Environmental Conditions and Sub­sistence Systems in Hungary in the Age of the Ottoman Occupation’, Hungarian Studies, 24 (2010), 21–39 Reddé, Michel, Mare nostrum: Les infrastructures, le dispositif et l’histoire de la marine militaire sous l’Empire romain (Rome: Ecole française de Rome, 1984) Rogers, Jason, ‘Czech Logboats: Early Inland Watercraft from Bohemia and Moravia’, Sborník Prací Filozofické Fakulty Brněnské Univerzity/Studia minora Facultatis Philosophicae Universitatis Brunensis, M16 (2011), 171–202 Romhányi, Beatrix F., ‘Church and Salt. Monasteries and Salt Trade in the Medi­eval Kingdom of Hungary (11th–13th Centuries)’, in Monastic Life, Art and Techno­logy in 11th–16th Centuries, ed. by Ileana Burnichioiu, Annales Universitatis Apulensis. S. H. Special Issue (Cluj-Napoca: Mega Publishing, 2015), pp. 147–60 Rusu, Adrian A., ‘Componente de arhitectură şi instalaţii utilitare. 1. Turnul cu fântână’ [‘Architectural Components and Utilitarian Features. 1. The Water Tower’], in Mănă­ stirea Bizere, i, ed. by Adrian A. Rusu and Ileana Burnichioiu (Cluj-Napoca: Mega Publishing, 2011), pp. 49–60 Rusu, Adrian A., and Oana Toda, ‘Archaeo­logical Evidence for Historical Navigation on the Mureș River. Enquiries Based on a Medi­eval Boat Imprint from Bizere Abbey (Romania)’, Acta archaeo­logica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae, 65 (2014), 139–54 Rusu, Mircea, ‘Frumuşeni. Jurnal de şantier, campania 1981’ [‘Frumuşeni. Excavation Journal, 1981 Season’], transcription in Mănăstirea Bizere [Bizere Monastery], i, ed.  by Adrian  A. Rusu and Ileana Burnichioiu (Cluj-Napoca: Mega Publishing, 2011), pp. 129–31

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Simon, Zsolt, ‘Mineritul de sare în Evul Mediu în Transilvania şi Maramureş’ [‘Salt Mining during the Middle Ages in Transylvania and Maramureș’], in Sarea, Timpul şi Omul [Salt, Time and Man], ed. by Valeriu Cavruc and Andrea Chiricescu (Sfântu Gheorghe: Editura Angustia, 2006), pp. 92–96 Takács, Károly, ‘Medi­eval Hydraulic Systems in Hungary: Written Sources, Archaeo­ logy and Interpretation’, in People and Nature in Historical Perspective, ed. by József Laszlovszky and Péter Szabó (Budapest: Central European Uni­ ver­ sity, 2003), pp. 289–311 Tóth, János Attila, ‘Adatok a kora újkori közép-Duna-medencei hajók régészetéhez’ [‘Data on the Archaeo­logy of Early Modern Ships in the Middle Danube Basin Region’], in A középkori és a kora újkor régészete Magyarországon/Archaeo­logy of the Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period in Hungary, i, ed. by Elek Benkő and Gyöngyi Kovács (Budapest: MTA Régészeti Intézete, 2010), pp. 871–84 Vadas, András, ‘Long-Term Perspectives on River Floods. The Dominican Nunnery on Margaret Island (Budapest) and the Danube River’, Interdisciplinaria archaeo­logica, 4 (2013), 73–82 Vadas, András, and Lajos Rácz, ‘Climatic Changes in the Carpathian Basin during the Middle Ages: The State of Research’, Global Environment, 12 (2013), 210–25

Convents and Basque Familial Networks of Power Nere Jone Intxaustegi Jauregi

O

ne of the most significant social phenomena of early modern Spain was the expansion of the presence of regular clergy, which in turn led to a proliferation of convents, with an increase in foundations intensifying during the second half of the sixteenth century and into the seventeenth century.1 This vigorous expansion of conventual foundations was undoubtedly a post-Tridentine phenomenon.2 Conventual foundations stemmed from the undeniable influence of the Spanish Catholic monarchy. Apart from this reality, what were the reasons that lay behind this intense expansion and what were the real factors that led to the steady increase in conventual foundations during this period? In early modern Spain, convents were more than a place of prayer and spirituality. They acted as instruments of power and domination, and institutions that served the interests of society’s most powerful citizens who sought social dominance and popularity through their foundations.3 The establishment of a convent brought prestige and honour to a founder, highly regarded values during the Ancient Regime.4 Consequently, convents were used as a means to ensure the survival of the identity and power of their founders. This ambition is illustrated 1 

Atienza López, ‘Nobleza, poder señorial y conventos’, p. 235. Atienza López, ‘La expansión del clero regular en Aragón’, p. 18. 3  Atienza López, Tiempo de conventos, p. 16. 4  Atienza López, Tiempo de conventos, p. 74. 2 

Nere Jone Intxaustegi Jauregi is Assistant Professor of Spanish Law and Institutions, Uni­ ver­sity of Deusto, Spain and has a PhD in History, Uni­ver­sity of the Basque Country, Spain. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 503–521 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117276

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in different ways, such as the omnipresence of coats of arms of these families throughout the most visible parts of churches and convents,5 or in the function of several convents as the burial places of their founders. Nuns without dowries also played a role in promoting their family name.6 While nuns were usually required to provide a dowry when joining a convent, some founders allowed family members to be admitted without paying any dowry. This practice constituted an option for the promotion of a particular family. There was an increased number of foundations in the last third of the sixteenth and the first half of the seventeenth centuries,7 which was also related to the fact that prayers and liturgical activities of religious women were regarded as efficacious in the eyes of their contemporaries.8 Although some royal members, like Queen Margarita, wife of King Philip III,9 participated in this expansion, the nobility played a leading role in the movement, especially the Houses of Medina Sidonia, Alba, Osuna, and Medinaceli.10 This founding fervour also attracted benefactors from among members of the urban oligarchies,11 so much so that this phenomenon spread all over the kingdom.12

Foundations in the Basque Country Mirroring the Spanish phenomenon, the Basque Country experienced a similarly intense establishment of female convents although with some nuances.13 The scale of festivities, the number of convents established, and the importance of their patrons meant that the Basque Country struggled to keep up with the activities of the Spanish Crown during the early modern period.14 Nevertheless, 5 

Atienza López, ‘Nobleza, poder señorial y conventos’, p. 243. Intxaustegi Jauregi, ‘La figura de la indotada’. 7  Barrio Gozalo, El clero en la España Moderna, p. 419. 8  Dinan and Meyers, Women and Religion in the Old and New Worlds, p. 52. 9  Philip was born in 1578, and reigned from 1589 to 1621. Margarita was born in 1584 and died in 1611. They married in 1599. 10  Atienza López, ‘Nobleza, poder señorial y conventos’, p. 237. 11  Barrio Gozalo, El clero en la España Moderna, p. 420. 12  Catalán Martínez, ‘El clero ante la crisis del siglo XVII’, p. 20. 13  This paper focuses on the Autonomous Community of the Basque Country located in northern Spain, that is, the provinces of Biscay, Gipuzkoa, and Álava. Navarre and the Basque territories located in southern France are not taken into account. 14  Eguiluz Romero, ‘La transformación artístico-festiva de las grandes villas vizcaínas’, p. 50. 6 

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the Basque foundations were of relative significance, and, despite not being members of the royalty or nobility, the founders belonged to families closely connected to the Spanish court or were members of the urban oligarchy and the merchant class. At this point, it is worth clarifying that during the Middle Ages, communities of women known as the beaterios normally constituted Basque female religious life. These beaterios were communities of beatas, semi-religious women similar to the Dutch beguines or the Italian pinzocchere.15 By the beginning of the sixteenth century, it is possible to record almost forty-five beaterios in the five convents.16 During the final years of the sixteenth century and the first decades of the seventeenth century, draconian Tridentine legislation and the obligation to be enclosed resulted in the number of beaterios decreasing. In order to survive, many of the beatas entered enclosed communities and, consequently, turned the beaterios into convents. In the Basque Country, therefore, two types of female convents existed in the post-Tridentine period, the beaterios that became enclosed and transformed into convents, and religious communities founded from the beginning as convents with a vow of enclosure.

Basque Founders: The Nobility Female houses founded by the Basque nobility were not as common as in Castile or Andalusia due to the lack of a powerful aristocracy, as the Basque nobility was largely controlled by the strong Castilian and Navarrese aristocracy. Moreover, during the Middle Ages, the Basque Country did not exist as a unified territory and even the present-day provinces of Biscay, Gipuzkoa, and Álava were divided into different lordships, regions, walled cities, towns, and councils with different local families governing these territories. From the Middle Ages until 1842, the Ayala family controlled the lordship of Ayala, holding the titles of both count and lord in the independent territory in present-day Álava and Biscay.17 This led to the Ayala family being considered one of the major aristocratic families of Castile. Lord Fernán Pérez de Ayala and his wife Elvira de Zeballos decided to found a convent as a family mausoleum in the village of Quejana. In 1375, they began the construction of a church next to their palace, as both buildings were to become part of the 15 

Makowski, A Pernicious Sort of Woman. Arana, ‘La mujer vasca en la vida religiosa de Euskal Herria’, p. 848. 17  García Fernández, ‘Dominicos y Franciscanos en el País Vasco’, p. 218. 16 

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Table 20.1. List of all the known Basque conventual founders, including names of convents, their foundation dates, and the background of the founders. Date of Beaterio Foundation Date or (if applicable) Enclosure of the beaterios

Convents

Religious Order

Lasarte

Bridgettines

No

1671

Santa Margarita, in Ermua

Dominicans

No

1587

Santa Susana, in Durango

Augustinian canonesses

Yes, in 1596

1606

Santa Clara, in Elgoibar

Poor Clares

No

1531

San Agustín, in Hernani

Augustinian canonesses

Yes

1541

San Juan, in Quejana

Dominicans

No

1378

Santa María de Caleruega, in Lekeitio

Dominicans

No

1368

Santa Cruz, in Vitoria

Dominicans

Yes, in 1510

1530

Santa Cruz, in Azkoitia

Bridgettines

Yes

1691

Concepción, San Cosme y San Damián, in Eibar

Augustinian canonesses

Yes

1603

Santísima Trinidad de Bidaurreta, in Oñati

Poor Clares

No

1510

San José, in Zumaia

Carmelites

Yes

1609

Santa Clara, in Azkoitia

Poor Clares

No

1589

Santa Clara, in Tolosa

Poor Clares

No

1612

Santísima Trinidad, in Bergara

Poor Clares

Yes, 1513

1565

Santa Clara, in Zarautz

Poor Clares

No

1610

Convents and Basque Familial Networks of Power

507

Founder

Social Position of Founder(s)

Reasons for Foundation

Miguel de Oquendo

General in the Armada

Profession of his five daughters

María Ruiz de Lobiano (widow)

Merchant family

Supplication for soul

Francisco de Aldea and wife Catalina de Mendiola

Local oligarchy

María Ramos de Sarasua (widow)

Local oligarchy

Burial

Juan Martínez de Hereñozu and wife Catalina de Arbide

Local oligarchy

Profession of his daughters and nieces / Family burial

Fernán Pérez de Ayala

Local oligarchy and court in Castile

Family burial and supplication

Juana Ibáñez de Asuaga (widow)

Local oligarchy

Fortún Ibáñez de Aguirre

Local oligarchy / member of Charles V’s council

Profession of his illegitimate daughter

Francisco de Lejalde and wife Magdalena de Mallea

Courtier

To honour dead son

Juan López de Lazarraga and wife Juana de Gamboa

Secretary of Ferdinand II Family burial Executor of Isabella’s testament

María Ignacia Hurtado de Mendoza

Francisca de Labayen Hernández de la Torre Pedro and Francisco de Zuazola

Courtier

Family burial

Miguel Pérez de Mendiola e Iturriza and wife Magdaleba Unanue Family burial

Andrés Martínez de Ondarza y Uzarraga, and wife Magdalena de Araoz

Courtier for fifty-three years

Mariana de Zarauz y Gamboa (widow)

Local oligarchy

Family coat of arms Profession of her daughters and herself continued on the following page

Nere Jone Intxaustegi Jauregi

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Table 20.1. List of all the known Basque conventual founders, including names of convents, their foundation dates, and the background of the founders (cont.). Date of Beaterio Foundation Date or (if applicable) Enclosure of the beaterios

Convents

Religious Order

Santa Isabel, in Gordexola

Third Order of St. Francis

Yes

1654

Santa Clara, in Balmaseda

Poor Clares

No

1666

Santa Teresa, in Lazkao

Carmelites

No

1640

Santa Ana, in Lazkao

Cistercians

No

17th century

Santo Domingo, in San Sebastian

Carmelites

Yes

1546

San Telmo, in San Sebastian

Dominicans

No

1544–62

Augustine, in Artziniega

Augustinians

No

1606

Purísima Concepción de Isasi, in Eibar

Poor Clares

No

1593

Santa Catalina, in Mutriku

Augustinian canonesses

No

1575

Augustines, in Rentería

Augustinian canonesses

Yes

1542

Santa Ana, in Soraluze

Augustinian canonesses

Santa Clara, in Portugalete

Poor Clares

Yes, 1533

1614

San Antonio, in Durango

Poor Clares

Yes, 1439

1551

Santa Cruz, in Bilbao

Poor Clares

Yes, 15th century

1614

Mercedarias, in Gernika

Mercedarians

Yes

1625

Santa Clara, in AlegríaDulantzi

Poor Clares

Yes

1581

Convents and Basque Familial Networks of Power

509

Founder

Social Position of Founder(s)

Reasons for Foundation

Miguel de Oxirando Sanz de Isuskiza

Courtier

Supplication for his soul

Juan de la Piedra Verástegui

Merchant

Present for his native town / Family coat of arms

María de Lazcano

Noble with medi­eval lineage / Richest family in the province

Family burial

María de Lazcano

Medi­eval lineage / Richest family of the province

Family burial place

Alonso de Idiáquez y Yurramendi

Thirty years secretary of Charles V / Member of the Royal Council

Alonso de Idiáquez y Yurramendi

Thirty years secretary of Charles V / Member of the royal council

Family burial

Pedro Ruiz de Montiano and wife Inés de Orive Salazar

Local oligarchy

Supplication for their souls

Martín López de Isasi and wife Domenja de Orbea

Merchant

Bachiller Juan de Ochoa de Berriatua and wife Catalina de la Plaza

Local oligarchy

Catalina, Bárbara and Juana de Asteasu, sisters

Present for his native town

To profess

Andrés Ybañez de Irure Ochoa de Larrea Martiartu

Merchant

Supplication for his soul

Elvira de Otaola (widow)

Local oligarchy

To profess

Domingo de Gorgolla y Gatafurda,

Assistant of cardinal of Toledo

Present for his native town / To benefit his family

Juan Iñiguez de Arteaga and wife Marina Sáez Iturburu

Local oligarchy

Abad Uturgoyen

Priest

510

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Dominican convent complex. 18 Their son, Pedro López de Ayala , considered one of the most important individuals in Basque history, was the first person to be buried in the convent in 1407. Pedro, who was a statesman and courtier, as well as a historian and poet, played a central role in the politics of that period. When he was alférez mayor del Pendón de la Banda (a second lieutenant), Map 20.1. Map of the Basque Country with the provinces of he fought with Henry of Biscay, Gipuzkoa, and Alava. Trastamara at the Battle Map by Aitor Castañeda Zumeta. of Nájera in 1367, when he was made prisoner of Edward the Black Prince. After his release, he travelled to France in order to negotiate an alliance against the English and Portuguese. Not only did he continue his diplomatic activities, but he was also named Canciller Mayor (chancellor of the king) in 1398.19 Those known as the Parientes Mayores (the elders) were considered minor noble families. During the Middle Ages, the Basque Country, as well as Navarre, was devastated by the War of the Bands.20 This civil war was named after the aristocratic networks of familial alliances and their armed followers, known as bandos (bands) that carried out constant wars of power and honour across the territory. Two bands called oñacinos and gamboínos fought each other constantly. They were related to and controlled subject families, a system that led to certain lineages ruling an absolute hierarchical organization of dependencies.

18 

Paz Moro, San Juan de Quejana, p. 53. Valdaliso Casanova, ‘La obra cronística de Pedro López de Ayala’, p. 196. 20  Díaz de Durana Ortiz de Urbina, La lucha de Bandos en el País Vasco, p. 22. 19 

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Map 20.2. Location of the female convents founded between the fourteenth and seventeenth centuries in the Basque Country. Map by Aitor Castañeda Zumeta with additional information by the author.

Lazcano, considered to be the richest family in the province of Gipuzkoa,21 was one of those lineages. During the seventeenth century, María de Lazcano, the head of the lineage, founded two convents in her hometown of Lazkao. Not only was she the head of this rich and powerful family, but she was also the wife of Antonio de Oquendo y Zandategui, who is considered to have been one of the greatest admirals of the Spanish Royal Navy. This in spite of the fact that he was in command of the Spanish forces at the Battle of Downs, a naval battle that took place on 21 October 1639, during the Eighty Years’ War (1568–1648), and is considered by many a decisive Spanish defeat in the war against the United Provinces. While her husband was fighting abroad, she founded two convents that were built as family mausolea.22 María, her husband 21  22 

Vasallo Toranzo, ‘Los Lazcano y su casa fuerte de Contrasta en Álava’, p. 234. Roure, ‘Antonio de Oquendo’, pp. 204–06.

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Antonio de Oquendo, and their son Felipe were buried in the convent of Santa Ana, while their daughter, also called María, was buried in the convent of Santa Teresa.23 The facades of both foundations bear the Lazcano coat of arms.

Courtiers Several powerful local oligarch families succeeded in having members in the royal court, and it is to this group that most of the Basque founders belonged. In 1510, Juan López de Lazarraga, along with his second wife Juana de Gamboa, founded the convent of Santísima Trinidad in Bidaurreta-Oñati, in the province of Gipuzkoa, the first Poor Clare convent in the province.24 Juan López de Lazarraga, who belonged to one of the finest and most ancient families in the province, was a member of the order of Santiago.25 He played a significant role in the court as he was the personal secretary of Ferdinand II and the executor of Isabella’s will.26 The facade of the convent displays the coat of arms of the Catholic Monarchs, reflecting the special relationship that existed between the two parties. The aim of this conventual foundation was the burial of the founding patrons in the convent, but there is no evidence that this ever happened; no source material has come to light that refers to their funeral, nor to a tomb. Therefore, it is unclear what happened to the bodies.27 Worthy of mention is Miguel Antonio de Oquendo, the founder of a Bridgettine convent in his hometown of Lasarte. Miguel Antonio belonged to a family dedicated to serving the Spanish Royal Navy. His grandfather was Captain-General Miguel de Oquendo y Segura, who died at sea in 1588 while returning from the Spanish Armada campaign. His father was Admiral Antonio de Oquendo y Zandategui, already mentioned above. Following his family’s 23 

Aguirre Sorondo, ‘Lazkao. Monasterioko atalasearen atzean’, internet resource (no page number). 24  Federación de Hermanas Clarisas Nuestra Señora de Aranzazu, El ayer y el hoy de nuestros monasterios, p. 297. 25  This religious and military order, also known as the Order of St James of the Sword, was founded in the twelfth century. Its initial objective was to protect the pilgrims on St James’s Way and to defend Christendom. After the Reconquista was completed, the Catholic Monarchs incorporated the order into the Spanish Crown and in 1523, Pope Adrian VI united the office of grandmaster of Santiago to the Crown. In the early modern period, to be a member of the order was a covetous aspiration of the Spanish nobility. 26  Molero and Lanzagorta, ‘La fundación del Convento de Bidaurreta’, p. 29. 27  Molero and Lanzagorta, Los Lazarraga y el Convento de Bidaurreta, p. 61.

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example, Miguel Antonio entered the navy at an early age and had a distinguished career. By 1656, he had already achieved the position of general of the Escuadra de Cantabria, one of the most prestigious sections of the Royal Navy. However, this outstanding career came to an end when, in October 1663, near the Bay of Cadiz, a storm hit the Royal Navy and destroyed Oquendo’s fleet. As a consequence, he was forced to abandon his military career, and retired to live in the family house in Lasarte, near San Sebastian. There he devoted himself to writing and to translation, and in particular, The Prophecies and Revelations of St Bridget of Sweden.28 At this time, he considered founding a convent for his daughters. In 1660, he applied for a licence to start the construction, but he did not specify which enclosed religious order was to be endowed. At first, he considered endowing the Cistercian order since María de Lazcano, his step-mother, had recently founded a convent of that order. However, he chose the Bridgettine order for numerous reasons: two of his daughters were already Bridgettine nuns in the city of Vitoria, his youngest daughter was named Bridget, and the naval disaster in Cadiz occurred in St Bridget’s day. Nevertheless, there were only two Bridgettine convents already in Spain, one in Valladolid and the one in Vitoria, a situation that allowed for a further foundation. 29 In 1670, Ana Josefa, Oquendo’s third daughter, laid the foundation stone of the convent. His daughters came from the convent in Vitoria to Lasarte and were placed in charge of the new community, which opened in 1675. Eventually, his five daughters took religious vows and entered this new convent. Links between this convent and the Oquendo family were confirmed when the bodies of Oquendo and his wife were buried there with the link visibly expressed by the family’s coat of arms being placed on the facade.30 Alonso de Idiáquez y Yurramendi founded the convents of Santo Domingo and San Telmo in San Sebastian. Alonso, who was knight of the military orders of Santiago, Calatrava, and Alcántara, played an important role in the politics of the first half of the 1500s. For thirty years, he was both the personal secretary to Charles V and member of the royal council. Indeed, it was he who signed the peace conditions of the Treaty of Crépy with King Francis I of France in 1544.31 The convent of San Telmo was the family mausoleum, while in the con28 

Lekuona, ‘El Convento de las Brígidas de Lasarte’, p. 429. Lekuona, ‘El Convento de las Brígidas de Lasarte’, pp. 443–48. 30  Lekuona, ‘El Convento de las Brígidas de Lasarte’, p. 458. 31  Pérez-Mínguez, ‘Don Juan de Idiáquez’, p. 79. 29 

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vent of Santo Domingo, destroyed during the French occupation of the nineteenth century, was the residence of Catalina de Erauso, daughter of Philip III’s commandant Miguel de Erauso. She was the famous monja alférez (nun lieutenant) who in 1600, after eleven years of enclosure, escaped from the convent and joined the Spanish Army in America.32 Andrés Martínez de Ondarza y Uzarraga, a member of an influential local oligarchy in Bergara, in the province of Gipuzkoa, also worked at the royal court over forty-three years, serving Kings Ferdinand II, Philip I, and Charles V. During these years, he met Juan López de Lazarraga and helped him to construct the convent of Bidaurreta-Oñati, in the province of Gipuzkoa. Andrés himself founded the convent of Santísima Trinidad in his hometown of Bergara, which houses the family crypt and where the coat of arms is still visible.33 The father and son, Pedro and Francisco de Zuazola, along with María de Idiáquez, their wife and mother respectively, chose their hometown Azkoitia to found a convent of the Poor Clares. Pedro sat on the Supreme War Council and also served as treasurer for Charles V, while Francisco sat on the royal council with Philip II and served as a jurist in the Chancillería (Royal Justice Court) in the city of Valladolid. María was related to Alonso de Idiáquez, the founder of other convents and to Ignacio de Loyola, the founder of the Jesuit order.34 This convent was founded as the family mausoleum, but unfortunately, the construction of the convent lasted almost two centuries and was not finished until 1692. Finally, the Dominican convent of Santa Cruz in Vitoria had two founders, though they were not related. Iñigo Fernández de Velasco y Mendoza, member of the Castilian aristocracy, was the Fourth Count of Haro and also the Condestable de Castilla. He was the second most powerful person in the kingdom after the king, and his responsibility was to command the military when the monarch was absent. He initiated the Vitoria foundation in the final years of the fifteenth century, but it was Hortuño Ibáñez de Aguirre, a member of the local oligarchy in Vitoria and nephew of Hernán López de Escoriaza, the doctor of Queen Katherine of Aragon, who completed the project. From 1500 to 1547, López de Escoriaza occupied different positions at the court as treasurer or member of the royal council and of the supreme council of the Inquisition 32 

De Erauso, Historia de la Monja Alférez, ed. by Esteban, p. 17. ‘Monasterio de la Santísima Trinidad de Vergara’, p. 9. 34  Astiazarain, ‘El Convento de Santa Clara de Azkotia’, p. 159. 33 

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during the reign of Charles V. His decision to construct a convent was influenced by his daughter, regarding it as the appropriate residence for her. In addition, he also created eight places for female family members without dowries who wanted to profess but could not afford the payment.35 The construction started in 1530 and the convent was finished by 1545. As to the decoration of the convent, Charles V’s coat of arms appears on the facade as well as Aguirre’s own family crest.

Merchants During the early modern period, Bilbao was the main port of northern Spain, a fact that explains the existence of powerful merchant families in the province of Biscay. From 1511, Bilbao had a Casa de Contratación (a house of trade), a government agency established to control all Spanish exploration and colonization, in addition to trade. During the Middle Ages, Basque merchants had strong links with England, France, and the Flemish territories, and from the sixteenth century onwards Seville became the second home for thousands of Basque merchants. Many merchants, who were known as Indianos,36 went to America and returned wealthy, often making endowments and building palaces and convents in their hometowns to demonstrate their new status. María Ruiz de Lobiano, who was the founder of the convent of Santa Margarita in Ermua in the province of Biscay,37 belonged to a merchant family that had become one of the most powerful families in the region.38 In 1556, this widow instructed in her will that a convent be built to pray for her husband’s soul, as well as for her own. But, it proved easier to give instructions than execute her wishes, and due to financial problems, the construction did not begin until 1591. Juan de la Piedra y Verástegui, another merchant from Biscay, founded a Poor Clare convent in Balmaseda. He had been born in Balmaseda but had his permanent residences in Seville and in Panamá due to trade, where he died in 1644. In 1643, and aware of his illness, he drafted his will and expressed his desire to establish a convent in Balmaseda, as he had a novice daughter in a 35 

Echeverría Goñi, ‘Gótico, Renacimiento y Bárroco’, p. 106. A colloquial term that refers to the Spanish emigrants who went to America and returned with wealth. 37  In 1691, the religious community moved to the nearby town of Elorrio, where it survives nowadays under the name of convent of Santa Ana. 38  Pereda García, Estudio histórico-arqueológico del Palacio de Lobiano, p. 28. 36 

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convent in Burgos and he was attached to his hometown.39 By 1666, the community had been founded. Juan de la Piedra also ordered prayers said for his soul, and saved eight places for women from his family who wanted to profess but could not afford to pay the dowry. In addition, only members of his family could be buried in the convent.40 In Eibar, a town in the province of Gipuzkoa, Martín López de Isasi, a member of a very influential merchant family,41 founded the convent of Purísima Concepción de Isasi. He was married to Domenja Orbea, whose father, Domingo Martínez de Orbea, was a member of the royal council of Charles V, which undoubtedly helped Martín López de Isasi in his career as a merchant. Due to his trading activities, he lived in Seville and travelled frequently to Las Indias, but he also stayed in Eibar, where he was the mayor from 1565 to 1568.42 While residing in his hometown he founded the convent as a gift to the town.

Conclusion The sixteenth century marked an exceptional time in Basque history, with Basque individuals of that period regarded as quite remarkable in a wider, international context. For example, Juan Sebastián Elcano, born in 1476 in the coastal town of Getaria in Gipuzkoa, completed the first circumnavigation of the earth in 1522,43 while Ignatius of Loyola, born in 1491 in Azpeitia, also in the province of Gipuzkoa, founded the religious order of the Society of Jesus ( Jesuits) and became its first superior general.44 As discussed, a large number of individuals who played an important role in Spanish politics of the early modern period not only shared a Basque origin, but also a passion for founding convents. Even if some Basque founders were members of important families such as the Ayala or Lazcano families, their position is not comparable to that of Spanish noble founders such as the Medina Sidonia, Alba, Osuna, or Medinaceli families. Most Basque founders of female houses were courtiers and to a lesser extent merchants, so they cannot be considered members of the grandees of Spain, the highest-ranking members 39 

Gómez Prieto, ‘Vida y economía del Monasterio de Santa Clara de Balmaseda’, p. 482. Montero Estebas, ‘Fundación y patronazgo’, pp. 444–45. 41  Azpiazu, El eibarrés Martín López de Isasi, pp. 6–11. 42  Azpiazu, El eibarrés Martín López de Isasi, p. 33. 43  Humboldt, Cosmos, ii, 270. 44  Traub and Mooney, St Ignatius Loyola, p. 4. 40 

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of the Spanish nobility. However, their positions in many councils during the reign of Charles V, and the role played in commerce, especially the Indianos, show us that they were far from inconsequential. The most striking feature of Basque patronage are the familial and professional connections between the founders, as exemplified by Antonio de Oquendo, his wife María Lazcano, and their son Miguel de Oquendo who established and endowed a number of female houses. However, the professional link was the most usual bond between founders. In this way, founders such as Juan López de Lazarraga, Fortún Ibáñez de Aguirre, Pedro de Zuazola, and Andrés Martínez de Ondarza y Uzarraga45 served at the royal court at the same time, while acting as members of different councils; that is, they knew each other. Although the Spanish Empire was the vastest territory of the world in that period, it is not surprising that the founders knew each other since not only did they share their Basque origin but they also spent a great amount of time working in the councils. It should also be noted that the principal Basque founders were natives of the province of Gipuzkoa. The reason for this situation lies in the important role that the beaterios played in the Biscay region. In this province there was a natural transition from beaterio to convent that did not require the intervention of a founder.46 In the third Basque province, Álava, there were few convents, although one member of the powerful Ayala lineage was born in the capital, Vitoria, and a convent was built in Quejana. The importance of Bilbao as a port city explains the existence of powerful merchant families in the province of Biscay. These families did not direct their ambitions towards the court, but instead to trade. It must be remembered that since its foundation in 1300, Bilbao was a commercial city of great importance. Indeed the early modern period is regarded as the golden age of the city47 when it was the most important port of the Northern Peninsula.48 This is typified by the Consulado de Bilbao, a house of trade, also known as Consulado, Casa de Contratación, Juzgado de Negocios de Mar y Tierra, y Universidad de Bilbao, which was founded in 1511 by Queen Joanna.49 45 

Vidal-Abarca, ‘El licenciado Fortún Ibáñez de Aguirre’, p. 56. Intxaustegi Jauregi, ‘Beatas, beaterios and Convents’, p. 337. 47  Guzmán, El Consulado de Bilbao, p. 15. 48  Priotti, Bilbao y sus mercaderes, p. 33. 49  She was born in 1479 and died in 1555. She was the daughter of the Catholic Monarchs, and she was the queen of Castile from 1504 until her death. 46 

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Despite their different social backgrounds, founders tended to establish only one convent in their hometown, with very few exceptions. Nonetheless, María de Lazcano and Alonso de Idiáquez y Yurramendi built two convents. Miguel de Oquendo was not born in Lasarte nor was Alonso de Idiáquez y Yurramendi born in San Sebastian, but these towns were closely connected to their respective families. Therefore, we are not dealing, in general terms, with people that founded more than one convent, something totally different from what happened in Spain, where a few families founded a large number of convents. It is worth noting that almost all founders were men, with very few women founding convents. Female founders shared some characteristics: most of them were widows, as in the cases of María Ruiz de Lobiano and Juana Ibáñez de Asuaga, and some of them even became nuns, as with Elvira de Otaola and Mariana de Zarauz y Gamboa. However, there were also female founders who were not widows but did profess, like the blood sisters Catalina, Bárbara, and Juana de Asteasu. Other female founders were neither widows nor did they profess. The importance and influence of the foundations endowed by women was not comparable to convents built by male founders who were neither widowers nor had professed. Even if the male and female founders shared personal characteristics, their foundations were not on a level par, with the exception of the convents founded by María Lazcano. Besides, these Basque female founders cannot be compared to the Spanish female founders, whose social backgrounds were more elevated and who included Queen Barbara of Portugal, the wife of King Ferdinand VI and a founder of the Convent of the Salesas Reales in Madrid. There were different aims behind these foundations, but, essentially, they were connected to the desire to perpetuate the family name using different means, such as having the family coat of arms on the facade or using the convents as the burial place for the family, as Philip II had done with the Royal Site of San Lorenzo de El Escorial. Another way to perpetuate the name of the family was the creation of specific places designated for women of families who were unable to pay dowries. Undoubtedly, the primary purpose of these convents was to act as family memorials in perpetuity, something that was achieved.

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Works Cited Primary Sources Erauso, Catalina de, Historia de la Monja Alférez, Catalina de Erauso, escrita por ella mis­ ma, ed. by Ángel Esteban (Madrid: Cátedra, 2000) Humboldt, Alexander von, Cosmos: A Sketch of a Physical Description of the Universe, ii (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1860; repr. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Uni­ver­sity Press, Foundations of Natural History, 1997)

Secondary Works Aguirre Sorondo, Juan, ‘Lazkao. Monasterioko atalasearen atzean’, Euskonews, 579 (2011) [accessed 1 February 2019] Arana, María José, ‘La mujer vasca en la vida religiosa de Euskal Herria’, in Historia de los Religiosos en el País Vasco y Navarra, ed. by Joseba Intxausti (Oñati: Editorial franciscana Aranzazu, 2002), pp. 841–71 Astiazarain, María Isabel, ‘El Convento de Santa Clara de Azkotia, una obra del arquitecto Lucas de Longa’, Cuadernos de sección: Artes plásticas y monumentales, 1 (1982), 155–99 Atienza López, Ángela, ‘La expansión del clero regular en Aragón durante la Edad Moderna. El proceso fundacional’, Revista de historia moderna: Anales de la Uni­ver­ sidad de Alicante, 21 (2003), 57–76 —— , Tiempo de conventos: una historia social de las fundaciones en la España moderna (Madrid: Marcial Pons, 2008) —— , ‘Nobleza, poder señorial y conventos en la España moderna. La dimensión política de las fundaciones nobiliarias’, in Estudios sobre señorío y feudalismo: homenaje a Julio Valdeón, ed. by Esteban Sarasa and Eliseo Serrano (Zaragoza: Institución Fernando el Católico, 2010), pp. 235–69 —— , ‘El mundo de las monjas y de los claustros femeninos en la Edad Moderna. Per­ spectivas recientes y algunos retos’, in De la tierra al cielo: líneas recientes de investi­ gación en Historia Moderna, ed. by Eliseo Serrano Martín (Zaragoza: Institución Fer­ nando el Católico, 2012), pp. 89–108 Azpiazu, José Antonio, El eibarrés Martín López de Isasi: un mercader en el reino de Felipe II (Eibar: Ayuntamiento de Eibar, 1999) Barrio Gozalo, Maximiliano, El clero en la España Moderna (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 2010) Catalán Martínez, Elena, ‘El clero ante la crisis del siglo XVII, Conflictos y estrategias’, Tiempos modernos: Revista Electrónica de Historia Moderna, 7.20 (2010), 1–35 Díaz de Durana Ortiz de Urbina, José Ramón, La lucha de Bandos en el País Vasco: de los Parientes mayores a la hidalguía universal. Guipúzcoa, de los bandos a la Provincia (siglos XIV–XVI) (Vitoria-Gasteiz: Servicio Editorial de la Universidad del País Vasco, 1998)

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Dinan, Susan, and Debra Meyers, Women and Religion in the Old and New Worlds (New York: Routledge, 2001) Echeverría Goñi, Pedro Luis, ‘Gótico, Renacimiento y Bárroco en la iglesia de dominicas de Santa Cruz de Vitoria’, in Historia, arte y espiritualidad: el convento de Santa Cruz de Vitoria en el VIII centenario de las dominicas contemplativas, ed. by Francisca Vives Cases (Vitoria-Gasteiz: Ayuntamiento de Vitoria-Gasteiz, 2007), pp. 75–188 Eguiluz Romero, Miren Aintzane, ‘La transformación artístico-festiva de las grandes villas vizcaínas (1610–1789)’ (unpublished doctoral thesis, Uni­ver­sity of the Basque Country, 2012) Federación de Hermanas Clarisas, Nuestra Señora de Aranzazu, El ayer y el hoy de nuestros Monasterios: Síntesis histórica (Oñati: Editorial Arantzazu, 1993) García Fernández, Ernesto, ‘Dominicos y Franciscanos en el País Vasco (siglos XIII–XV)’, in VI Semana de estudios medi­evales: Espiritualidad franciscana (Logroño: Instituto de Estudios Riojanos, 1996), pp. 213–33 Gómez Prieto, Julia, ‘Vida y economía del Monasterio de Santa Clara de Balmaseda: 1666–1984’, Estudios de geografía e historia, 2 (1988), 481–94 Guzmán, Domingo, El Consulado de Bilbao (Bilbao: Colección Temas de Bizkaia, 1979) Intxaustegi Jauregi, Nere Jone, ‘La figura de la indotada: la importancia del lazo familiar en la vida conventual vizcaína durante la Edad Moderna’, in III Encuentro de Jóvenes investigadores en historia moderna (Valladolid: Uni­ver­sity of Valladolid, 2015), pp. 229–39 —— , ‘Beatas, beaterios and Convents. The Origin of the Basque Female Conventual Life’, Imago temporis: Medium Aevum, 11 (2017), 329–41 Lekuona, Manuel, ‘El Convento de las Brígidas de Lasarte. Una fundación de los Oquendo’, Boletín de la Real Sociedad Bascongada de los Amigos del País, 7  (1951), 75–95, 235–67, 427–52 Makowski, Elizabeth, A  Pernicious Sort of Woman: Quasi-Religious Women and Canon Lawyers in the Later Middle Ages (Washington, DC: Catholic Uni­ver­sity of America Press, 2005) Molero, María Ángeles, and María José Lanzagorta, Los Lazarraga y el Convento de Bidaurreta (siglos XVI–XVIII): un linaje en la historia de Oñate (San Sebastián: Eusko Ikaskuntza, 1999) —— , ‘La fundación del Convento de Bidaurreta por Juan López de Lazarraga’, Revista Sancho el Sabio, 12 (2000), 37–66 Monasterio de la Santísima Trinidad de Vergara, ‘Monasterio de la Santísima Trinidad de Vergara’, Arizondo, 1 (1976), 9–10 Montero Estebas, Pedro María, ‘Fundación y patronazgo’, Boletín de la Real Sociedad Bascongada de Amigos del País, 52 (1996), 427–70 Paz Moro, Agurtzane, San Juan de Quejana, un Monasterio familiar de dominicas en el Valle alavés de Ayala (1378–1525): Sus vínculos con el linaje de Ayala (Bilbao: Servicio Editorial de la Universidad del País Vasco, 2017) Pereda García, Iñaki, Memoria Final: Estudio histórico-arqueológico del Palacio de Lobiano, Goienkale, 10, Ermua, Bizkaia (Ermua: Universidad del País Vasco, 2001)

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Pérez-Mínguez, Fidel, ‘Don Juan de Idiáquez. Embajador y Consejero de Felipe II’, Revista internacional de los estudios vascos, 23 (1932), 70–129 Priotti, Jean-Philippe, Bilbao y sus mercaderes, en el siglo XVI: Génesis de un crecimiento (Bilbao: Diputación Foral de Bizkaia, 1984) Roure, José, ‘Antonio de Oquendo’, Euskal Erria: revista vascongada, 3 (1881), 201–03, 217–29 Traub, George, and Mooney, Debra, ‘A Bio­graphy. St  Ignatius Loyola: Founder of the Jesuits’, Jesuits’ Resources, Xavier Uni­ver­sity (2015), 1–5 [accessed 1 February 2019] Valdaliso Casanova, Covadonga, ‘La obra cronística de Pedro López de Ayala y la sucesión monárquica en la Corona de Castilla’, Edad Media: Revista, 12 (2011), 193–211 Vasallo Toranzo, Luis, ‘Los Lazcano y su casa fuerte de Contrasta en Álava’, Ondare: Cuadernos de artes plásticas y monumentales, 20 (2001), 241–58 Vidal-Abarca, Juan, ‘El licenciado Fortún Ibáñez de Aguirre, un hidalgo alavés en la Corte’, in Historia, arte y espiritualidad: el convento de Santa Cruz de Vitoria en el VIII centenario de las dominicas contemplativas, ed. by Francisca Vives Cases (VitoriaGasteiz: Ayuntamiento de Vitoria-Gasteiz, 2007), pp. 49–73

‘Shadows of Ghosts’:* Rediscovering the Special ­ val Female Places of Medie Monasteries through Experiential Approaches to Landscape Kimm Curran

F

emale monasteries, for the most part, have not been considered as significant enough to warrant inclusion in the wider narratives of medi­ eval landscapes or settlement, or place identities. They may have been smaller, both economically and physically than their male counterparts, often situated in what Gilchrist calls liminal spaces, away from larger settlements or other places, factors that make them difficult to interpret because of the size of house or location and ambiguity surrounding their status.1 Another reason for this attitude is that they have been forgotten or overlooked partly due to the constant comparison to male monastic houses. There is also a lack of engagement with the landscapes associated with medi­eval female monasteries — they are not considered as important, special, and sacred places of the past, or indeed the present. The precinct is often invisible to us in female monasteries. Remains rarely survive and these special places are overlooked. This paper considers the place of female monasteries, focusing particularly on the precincts and the areas surrounding the precinct of three monasteries in Scotland: Abbey St Bathans, Coldstream, and Eccles. By using experimental approaches to viewing the landscape these particular spaces of medi­eval female monasteries can be re-discovered and re-imagined.  

* Herring, ‘Shadows of Ghosts’. Gilchrist, Gender and Material Culture.

1 

Dr Kimm Curran is an Independent Researcher. Monastic Europe: Medieval Communities, Landscapes, and Settlement, ed. by Edel Bhreathnach, Malgorzata Krasnodebska-D’Aughton, and Keith Smith, MMS 4 (Turn­hout: Brepols, 2019) pp. 523–544 BREPOLS PUBLISHERS 10.1484/M.MMS-EB.5.117277

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Monastic Landscapes and Place Approaches to monastic landscapes emphasize the connections between the lands and estates of monasteries, and the activities that happened within these dedicated places. Included in the monastic estate were the temporal and spiritual assets given to monasteries to provide for their needs. The estate may have included pastures, fisheries, mills, marshlands, meadows, moors, route ways, salt marshes, and waterways as well as holy wells, chapels, and additional churches, all making up the wide network of the monastic landscape. This network also included the precinct, its church, cloister, ranges, and outbuildings as well as the surrounding boundaries, settlements, and villages. Monastic precincts contained fishponds, orchards, gardens, dovecots, waterways, and buildings that constituted the inner and outer precincts; sites were often chosen for their location and access to drainage and water, protection from weather, as well as solitude for the monastic community. Creighton has referred to the precinct as a designed, sacred landscape, and often the most perceptible element within monastic landscapes both in the past and in the present.2 However, for many female monasteries these precincts are often invisible in the present day, hidden from view both in the physical sense, but also in the historio­g raphy of monastic landscape studies.3 Medi­e val female monasteries are forgotten in many respects as they do not always have tangible, surviving material remnants, such as ruins. The lack of surviving documentary evidence hides them further from view. Berman has suggested that because of the dearth of foundation charters, legends, and other historic records about female monasteries, these houses do not fit neatly into the template used to study male religious houses and are therefore not comparably evaluated.4 Lacking foundation charters or subsequent charters can increase the complexity when piecing together fragments of past landscapes and settlements, and an awareness of the wider monastic landscapes of female monasteries.

2 

Creighton, Designs upon the Land, p. 193. Female religious are regarded in a cursory fashion or not at all. See for example, Aston, Monasteries in the Landscape; Bond, Monastic Landscapes; Creighton, Designs upon the Land, Gardiner and Rippon, Medi­eval Landscapes; McAlister and Barry, Space and Settlement in Medi­eval Ireland. The most notable exceptions are Gilchrist, Gender and Material Culture and Oliva and Gilchrist, Religious Women in Medi­eval East Anglia; Hall, Women and the Church in Medi­eval Ireland. 4  Berman, ‘Were There Twelfth-Century Cistercian Nuns?’. 3 

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Nevertheless, as a designed landscape, the female monastic precinct has often left imprints in localities and has influenced current day practice of land use, as well as contributed to a landscape of ‘interwoven and complex places around, to and from, from and to (other) places’.5 The precinct has also played an important role in early place-making and community identity for those within the monastic community, but also for those who lived in the neighbouring villages and settlements.6 Over time, however, the precinct may have been destroyed, altered, or diminished in such a way as to have made it unrecognizable. A precinct is a palimpsest, and we have to look at how such places changed over time in order to reveal their past and present meanings.

Transformation of Place Eventually all places cease to exist in the form or function originally assigned to them or acquired by them during their lifespan. Places experience a form of death. With death come the ghosts that ‘seethe with memory’, haunting places with the ‘desire to pin memory in place’.7 These ghosts are invisible, and are seeking out to be remembered and brought back to life, and made visible. The afterlife of a place represents how the place is reinterpreted, remembered, and resurrected or re-purposed in the present, thus altering its original status.8 These ghostly shadows of past places are remembered through transformation and rebirth; places become prominent through tangible and intangible means like material remains, street plans and names, patterns, stories, literature, and memories. Places are remembered through images or visual representations, but what if, over time, these have been made invisible either through deliberate destruction or ruination, forgetfulness or omission? Walsham argues that the reason we have ‘forgotten’ medi­e val places in the past is partially due to the religious ‘fracturing’ during the Dissolution or Reformation and the continued reimagining of these places over time.9 Ruins, stones, and fragments created mental and physical scars on the landscape 5 

Ingold, ‘Against Space’, p. 37. Cassidy-Welsh, Monastic Spaces and their Meanings, p. 251; Gilchrist, Gender and Material Culture, pp. 63–65. 7  Edensor, ‘The Ghosts of Industrial Ruins’, p. 829. 8  Ashmore, ‘Social Archaeo­logies of Landscape’, pp. 266–69; Bradley, Altering the Earth; Williams, ‘Monuments and the Past’. 9  Walsham, The Reformation of the Landscape, p. 7. 6 

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and removed the collective memory of the medi­e val Catholic past. Not only were buildings altered, but so were the places associated with them, including gardens, fishponds, orchards, and farms, while other places were given to lay landowners who reshaped them for their personal use. Warfare, civil unrest, and decay also caused religious places to become forgotten, as their physical structures or material remains no longer existed, were torn down and used for rebuilding other structures, and re-purposed. Female monasteries in Scotland, for example, faded into obscurity when their lands and property were granted to secular individuals, usually the patron of the community or a relation of the head of the house. These places no longer served as monasteries of women but as retirement homes until the last of them died in the early sixteenth century.10 They remained at the edges of memory, the uses of the place no longer important and forgotten. This distinct memory break between the medi­e val Catholic past also caused relationships between communities and individuals, the places which they inhabited, as well as their form and function, to become irrevocably altered. The change in form and function caused a fragmentation between these connected networks and the places themselves became dislocated. We may never fully realize the form, function, and importance of female monasteries and their connected past landscapes, but we can appreciate what they represent in terms of experience and meaning in the present day by discovering the afterlife of their precincts and finding ways to construct a ‘bio­graphy of place’.11

Remembering, Reinterpreting, and Discovering Place Creating a bio­graphy of place often involves extensive engagement — by excavation or extensive fieldwork combined with documentary records — hence allowing for an interpretation of ‘place actions and meanings from the past and present’.12 Active engagement can also permit discovery of the afterlife of place through remembrance and reinterpretation by walking through these landscapes. Adoption of theoretical and experimental approaches to landscapes that have been used by prehistorians and psycho-geo­g raphers can make the invisible precinct areas of female monasteries more visible. Phenomeno­logy as a practice in geo­graphy or archaeo­logy has concentrated on rural, often iso10 

Curran, ‘Religious Women and their Communities’, chaps 4 and 5. Weikert, ‘Bio­graphy of a Place’, pp. 253–79. 12  Weikert, ‘Bio­graphy of a Place’, p. 254. 11 

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lated, landscapes to uncover how the sites were used in the past.13 Prehistoric sites, such as the standing stones of Avebury, Wiltshire and the Dorset Cursus have been re-discovered by observing and recording these places in the present. More recent investigations have looked at hidden places along Hadrian’s Wall and the experience of medi­e val pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago de Compostela to project how places and landscapes were used or experienced in the past.14 This type of approach to these particular historic places uses sensory experience to uncover what might be overlooked by the traditional means of observation or recording — usually achieved by walking through the landscape. Psycho-geo­graphy is another way to explore and rediscover place. The pursuit of psycho-geo­graphy has mainly focused on urban walking: to dérive, stroll or wander to encounter new experiences.15 In archaeo­logy and geo­graphy, psycho-geo­graphy has been employed by walking through industrial ruins and cities and exploring sites to record and make visible what has been destroyed, reused, or reshaped.16 These are often liminal, marginal places that have been left on the edges of memory or perception. Surprisingly, this practice has yet to be used in rural locations, areas which often have liminal or marginal places, traces of where the past and present intersect, such as deserted industrial landscapes or ruins, from the more recent to the distant past. Walking through ruins allows one to re-discover how they may have been re-invented or imagined, or to understand why they lie hidden from view. Capturing the echo of what once was, the current shape of places and how they are represented now is the essence of bringing together both the memories of the past and experiences of the present.17 These approaches combine fieldwork with documentary evidence and practice-based experiential methods which open up ways of thinking about places in the past. Kate Giles has remarked that there is a reluctance to use these methods because there is often a ‘wealth of textual evidence available for the period’ that limits more creative and experimental approaches to visible or invisible 13 

Bruck, ‘Experiencing the Past?’; Tilley, The Materiality of Stone; Fontijn, ‘The Significance of Invisible Places’. 14  Witcher, Tolia-Kelly, and Hingley, ‘Archaeo­logies of Landscape’; Candy, The Archaeo­ logy of Pilgrimage. See also Whyte, ‘Senses of Place, Senses of Time’; Whyte, Inhabiting the Landscape. 15  Coverley, Psychogeo­graphy; Richardson, Walking Inside Out; Solnut, Wanderlust. 16  Edensor, ‘Walking through Ruins’; Anderson, Imaginary Cities. 17  Dobson and Selman, ‘Applying Historical Landscape’.

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landscapes.18 When this textual evidence is patchy or has simply not survived, the places of medi­e val female monasteries are a unique and fitting choice in which to adopt these two particular experimental methods to study their medi­ eval and modern landscapes. The absence and paucity of source material is not unusual in the study of female monasteries, requiring more creative approaches to research in order to understand past and present roles. Teasing out places in the medi­eval past and their current shape can be done by understanding the place through a combination of varied types of investigation, such as analysing historical documentation and maps, aerial photo­graphy, site records, and recording them by perambulation and observation. One simply has to know where to look. Through these methods, it is possible to discover, reimagine, or create memory of what was once forgotten or hidden away. The precincts of three female monasteries in the Scottish Borders will be examined to reveal how experimental approaches to landscape can increase the visibility of these places. Combined with documentary and other evidence, fieldwork was used to record the perception and visibility of female monasteries within their localities — primarily by walking through the areas identifiable as the site of the medi­eval precinct. The locations of three different sites of female monasteries include one semi-urban and two in rural settings: Abbey St  Bathans, Coldstream, and Eccles. Firstly, it should be highlighted that these sites have not received any archaeo­logical attention, either in excavation or walkover surveys. Nor has any consideration been given as to how these places in the past might have affected the settlement and design of towns in the present.

Case Studies The female monasteries of Abbey St Bathans, Coldstream, and Eccles all had their origins in the mid- to late twelfth century. Their founders and patrons were from the same family, the earls of Dunbar. Between the 1140s and 1160s, the Dunbar family reinforced their dynastic lineage and participated in the religious fervour that was being experienced throughout Scotland, evident in the upsurge in religious foundations. Gifts and grants were provided to the larger border abbeys of Melrose, Kelso, and Dryburgh, as well as to the abbeys at Newbattle and May. However, the most important acts of piety of the Dunbar 18 

Giles, ‘Seeing Is Believing’, p. 109; Frieman and Gillings, ‘Seeing Is Perceiving?’, p. 11.

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Map 21.1. Location of Eccles Priory, Abbey St Bathan’s Priory, and Coldstream Priory in the Scottish Borders. Map courtesy of Google Maps.

family were the foundations of the female monasteries of Abbey St Bathans, Coldstream, and Eccles, the only religious foundations endowed by this family. Coldstream has been considered the one monastery most ‘powerfully’ associated with the Dunbars and Eccles became the burial site of Patrick, the first earl, in 1232.19 Each monastery was founded in a particular region of the Scottish Borders that overlapped with a stronghold of the earldom of Dunbar and as a result of this policy they were geo­graphically close to each other.20 Abbey St Bathans and Eccles both have fragmentary survival of documentary source material, resulting in an incomplete picture of their history. There are no surviving foundation charters for either and we rely on later medi­e val records and early modern land registers to fill in the gaps. Abbey St Bathans was founded around 1160 by either Gospatric III (c. 1138–66) or by his wife 19  20 

Chronicle of Melrose, ed. by Anderson, p. 210. Hamilton, Mighty Subjects, p. 65.

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Deirdre. Eccles may have been founded as early as 1150 by the same Gospatric.21 Written records for Abbey St Bathans and Eccles do not appear until the fifteenth or sixteenth centuries when the monastic lands were confirmed by the Crown and the valuation of their estates was assessed. They also feature in the accounts of the Anglo-Scottish Wars.22 As a result we have a relatively complete picture of the lands, churches, and other sites associated with these female foundations before the secularization of monasteries in the sixteenth century. Coldstream was another monastery founded by Deirdre, the wife of Gospatric III in c. 1166. It has the only existing chartulary of a female monastery in Britain and Ireland, providing a full record of the development of a female monastery and its monastic landscapes over a long period of time. Details relating to the management of its estates, gifts from patrons, and broader connections to the locality and beyond survive in the chartulary as well as in other documents.23 Even though these monasteries endured throughout the Wars of Scottish Independence (1296–1328, 1332–57) and the Anglo-Scottish Wars of the sixteenth century (1513–48), they now exist in an obscurity, nearly invisible in their modern-day localities.

Abbey St Bathans Abbey St Bathans is a small settlement located in a secluded river valley, surrounded by moors, farmland, and forests, roughly twenty-seven miles from the border town of Berwick-upon-Tweed and seven miles from the village of Duns. It is one of the stopping points along the Southern Upland Way walking route between Lauder and Cockburnpath that winds through the Lammermuir Hills. The settlement was adversely affected by the outbreak of the foot-andmouth disease in 2001, and with the decline in walkers, the place has a quiet and empty quality to it. The approach to Abbey St Bathans, either by car or on foot, impresses on the viewer that this is a secluded and isolated place in the Scottish Borders. There is a steep climb through a dark, tree-lined road before descending into a settlement with a few houses, a postbox, a church, and graveyard located on the south bank of the Whiteadder River. The monastery of Abbey St Bathans was located at the site of the riverside meadow, near the existing parish church, with the medi­e val precinct adjoining the church 21 

Cowan and Easson, Medi­eval Religious Houses, p. 146. Curran, ‘Religious Women’, chap. 1. 23  BL, MS  Harley 6670. 22 

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Figure 21.1. Abbey St Bathans, parish church, Scottish Borders. Photo by K. Curran.

known in the eighteenth century as the ‘Precincts Yard’.24 It was considered ruinous in the eighteenth century with only some traces of a three-tiered wall that encircled the ‘Precincts Yard’, which may have been the medi­eval enclosure, with the north and east wall of the church showing the Gothic window arches. By the mid-nineteenth century, however, only the ruins of the church walls were visible.25 The approach to the site of the precinct from the east seemed to be the most appropriate point from which to discover the site’s association with the river and whether or not the river influenced the shape of the precinct area. It was best to start at the riverside car park, the point furthest east of the river meadow, next to the fish farm, and to follow the riverside meadow path. Even with the flowing river nearby, there was an immediate feeling of stillness and remoteness. There was no one in the car park or out walking on a warm, summer’s day. Following the path next to the river, it became clear that the route chosen was 24  Edinburgh, Historic Environment Scotland, Canmore, ‘Abbey St Bathans Church’; Sked, ‘Parish of Abbay of St Bathans’, pp. 64–66. 25  Wallace, ‘Parish of Abbey St Bathans’, pp. 107–10; Edinburgh, NLS, ‘Hutton Drawings’, Adv.MS.305.22–23, f. 133 (32a), fol. 144 (31).

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Figure 21.2. Abbey St Bathans, Nuns’ Well, Scottish Borders. Photo by K. Curran.

not feasible as modern buildings and overgrown vegetation blocked the way and a new path moved away from the riverside and on to the main road. Walking along the road shifted one’s focus to the constant presence of cars, farm machinery, and need for safety, even though there was no traffic. This position on the road was closer to the cattle fields to the south-west: this created a contrast between the quiet area of the riverside and the deafening noise of the cows and a distracting multitude of flies. Once closer to the church, the roadside became lined with trees again, the cows were silenced, and there were no flies, causing the sensory associations of stillness and emptiness to return. Rounding a bend in the road, the church came into view and there was an expectation that there would be a sign for the church or site of the monastery of Abbey St Bathans, but there was no indication on road signs or at the church that this was a place of some importance (fig. 21.1). Women religious were invisible here. Walking the road to the church there was anticipation of some activity or noise as the church is the main focal point of the settlement, with buildings and houses surrounding it. There was no one; the only movement was the Whiteadder River, and wind through the trees in the nearby Shannabank Woods.

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The modern churchyard enclosure prevented any further investigation into the meadow, and the pathways that would have led originally through the riverside meadow were overgrown. Despite these obstructions to access, a walkover survey of the churchyard boundary provided some clues as to how the medi­eval precinct area and church were allowed to deteriorate and were later adapted to suit the needs of the settlement. The meadow was converted into pasture land, the church rebuilt using the existing ruined walls, a small enclosure near the church became a garden, while the shape of the present graveyard hinted at the cloister area or inner precinct. From this vantage point, one could see upriver to the west and east which may indicate that a strategic decision was taken by the founders to place the monastery where it could be isolated from the world on one hand, and yet on the main communication routes (river and road) to the outside world on the other. There is a sense that this site is practically uninhabited, remote, and isolated even today. Nothing else remains of the precinct and the sense is that this is a forgotten place. The investigation continued at the related sites of two holy wells that were associated with the monastery in the Middle Ages and known as Nuns’ Well and St Bathans Well. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries lead pipes were seen inside the ruins of the church leading south towards Nuns’ Well and this water source was probably used by the community, hence the name associated with it. St Bathans Well was about a quarter of a mile from the church situated in what was called ‘Chapel Field’ surrounded by a woody nook. The well was still being used in the mid-1800s and reportedly had the power to heal diseases and prevent the corn mill-lead from being frozen in the winter.26 Early twentieth-century accounts noted that there was a canopy covering Bathans Well with an inscription ‘Deus in adjutorium, Meum intende’ (Make Haste, O God, Deliver Me) and that it was still in use (fig. 21.2).27 Today, both wells are inaccessible either because of vegetation or topo­graphy. Steep inclines on the roadsides make them unapproachable and the pathway to the south is blocked off by fencing. At the site of the precinct and surrounding area of Abbey St Bathans, two things remain constant: the secluded nature appears to be as a result of its location in a river valley and setting in the Lammermuir Hills, but also the absence of recollection of the monastery both by the community and public authorities. It is unclear if this is the result of the settlement’s small size, or of a lack of 26  27 

Sked, ‘Parish of Abbay of St Bathans’, pp. 64–66. Edinburgh, Historic Environment Scotland, Canmore, ‘Abbey St Bathans Well’, pp. 29–30.

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awareness of its history among the local community. There are no signs indicating that this was once a medi­e val female monastery or even the location of a medi­eval settlement possibly dating back to the seventh century.28

Coldstream Coldstream is a moderately populated border market town that is a crossing point into England over the bridge at Cornhill-upon-Tweed. The town owes its origins and layout to the female monastery of Coldstream. The exact location of the monastery is unknown but pathways and the local topo­graphy suggest that it was located at a bend in the Leet Water at the south-west end of the town at the junction with the Tweed.29 Like Abbey St Bathans, the shape of the precinct may have been influenced by the Leet and the Tweed, and positioning the monastery at this place by the founders may have been dictated by the use of the river as a communication route and a much-needed source of water for the community. Walking the path along the Leet allowed for no interruptions from traffic and the noise from the High Street almost immediately became muted. To the west there were either high garden walls or walls with high shrubs and only a couple of alleyways that allowed access to the Market Square, with trees on either side of the Leet Water. These two barriers created a sense of an enclosed space, cut off from the rest of the town. The pathway comes to an end and the first trace of the convent in the area comes to view. The pathway is called Penitents’ Walk and it leads to the Tweed Green. Penitents’ Walk is not mentioned in the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century accounts and the 1858 Ordnance Survey shows a path in the same place but it is unnamed, which suggests that the official naming of the paths is a more recent development.30 According to late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century accounts, the area known as the Tweed Green was the most likely location of the outer precinct or churchyard. It stands at the convergence of the Leet Water and River 28  The place name is associated with the second abbot of Iona, Baithan/Bathan. Bathans Well may link the site with pilgrimage routes or route ways between Lindisfarne, Iona, or St Andrews, see Taylor, ‘Seventh-Century Iona Abbots in Scottish Place-Names’. 29  Edinburgh, Historic Environment Scotland, Canmore, ‘Coldstream Priory’. 30  Bell, ‘Parish of Coldstream’, p. 410; Goldie, ‘Parish of Coldstream’, pp. 207–10; Edinburgh, NLS, Earl of Haddington’s Property, EMS.s.371; Edinburgh, NLS, ‘Ordnance Survey Map, Berwickshire, Sheet XXIX.9’, 1855–82.

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Tweed, giving the area a rounded shape at a bend of the Tweed which has been present since at least the late sixteenth century.31 Sixteenth-century accounts suggest that the church was approximately 100 m from the riverside and eighteenth-century descriptions indicate that a small stone archway from the church aisle was still visible on the western side of the Tweed Green and was being used for food storage and an animal shelter.32 At this point, there was an expectation that there would be official signs marking the site of the monastery of Coldstream, but these were absent, mirroring Abbey St Bathans. There were clues, however, in the names of pathways and roads such as Penitents’ Walk, Abbey Road, and Nuns’ Walk. One of the immediate sensory experiences was the emptiness and seclusion of the area, even on a warm, sunny afternoon, there was no activity there. The area to the west of the medi­eval church aisle was built up in the nineteenth century and the site was severely compromised by the gas works, brewery, and modern housing. No trace of the medi­e val church or the outline of other buildings remain. 33 On the site of the church aisle, however, there was a small ruinous building showing a walled-up doorway and upon which was a memorial to the dead who fell at the Battle of Flodden in 1513. It was rumoured that some of the dead from the battle were buried in the graveyard and as a consequence, the Flodden memorial became the focus of the site rather than the monastery. The association with Flodden seemed at odds with the history of the monastery, as there is no documentary or physical evidence to link the two. The association with Flodden was created as an episode in the town’s history and remains part of its identity today. At this stage, any further expectation of finding traces of how the town might have remembered the female monastery at Coldstream remained doubtful although it seemed reasonable that the old town and Market Square might reveal some evidence as these areas would have been centres of economic and social activity during the lifespan of the monastery and beyond. In the Market Square there was a tiled symbol of the town crest (fig. 21.3) and immediately this image resonated with the twelfth-century ecclesiastical seal of the monastery.34 31  Plan drawn of the precincts in 1589 shows this bend of the river and the site of the priory, Edinburgh, NAS, RHP 4999. 32  Edinburgh, NLS, Hutton’s Drawings, Adv.MS.30.5.22–23, fol.  138 (34b); Adv. MS.30.5.22–23, fol. 139 (34a); Adv.MSS.30.5.1–30.5.21; Adv.MSS.30.5.24–30.5.28. 33  Edinburgh, NLS, ‘Ordnance Survey Map, Berwickshire, Sheet XXIX.9’, 1855–82. 34  Laing, Supplemental Descriptive Catalogue of Ancient Scottish Seals, pl. XV, fig. 5.

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Figure 21.3. Coldstream, Market Square, Scottish Borders. Photo by K. Curran.

In 1892, the Town Council’s seal was copied directly from the seal of Coldstream and was ‘represented by a salmon with a hook in its mouth, wheel with sun, moon and stars; the fish represents Christ, the wheel is the world and the sun and the moon represent that [Christ] is lord of them all’.35 The other symbolisms of the crest can be associated with the river, the site of the watermill and mill wheel and river or water flowers. The town seal was later replaced by the Community Council crest in 1975 and it also replicates the monastic seal. The monastery is remembered in streets or paths, such as those of Penitents’ Walk, Nuns’ Walk, Abbey Road, and at the memorial of Flodden (albeit misappropriated), but these traces are in the old part of town and on the margins. The monastery is hidden from the newer part of Coldstream and there is nothing to indicate that this medi­e val town once contained a female monastery. Women religious remain on the periphery. Perhaps unintentionally, they are remembered through the town seal and the visible seal is placed in an area that would have been the monastery’s outer precinct. 35 

Porteous, The Town Council Seals of Scotland, pp. 65–66.

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Eccles Eccles is a small village located approximately five miles north-west of Coldstream on the main road south to Kelso. The place name ‘Eccles’, possibly deriving from British eglwys, a borrowing from Latin ecclesia (church), may have been an early Christian site.36 The exact location of the precinct of Eccles was much easier to pinpoint than at Abbey St Bathans and Coldstream because it is the only female monastery in this study with structural remains in situ located in the grounds of Eccles House. In the eighteenth century, the size of the precinct area was noted to be at least six acres square extending to the south and west of the village. It had substantial remains with two vaulted cells that were converted into cellars, for holding wine and ale, a burial ground covered in stone, which contained dressed stones and rubble possibly from the collapse of other rooms or buildings that formed the eastern portion of the monastery, namely, from the sacristy, dormitory, warming house, or parlour.37 The ruins were still substantial in the mid-nineteenth century and according to the description included an arched doorway, the door of a south cell in the dormitory, and the night stairs, normally situated above the chapter house and sacristy, which allowed the women religious to enter the church for the night services.38 The approach to the site of the precinct was via the entrance to Eccles House located on the periphery of the village. There were no signs to indicate that the ruins of a female monastery are tucked away on its grounds. The track leading to Eccles House was flanked by mature trees on either side providing a woodland covering and signposting the way to the nineteenth-century mansion. Once inside the precinct area and estate of Eccles House, the noise of the traffic was muffled which gave the place a sense of peaceful isolation. Eccles House sits on top of a small rise and from this location, one can appreciate the extensive precinct of Eccles monastery. The approach to the precinct area differed from Abbey St Bathans and Coldstream as the ruins had become part of another designed landscape and the area had to be negotiated by following the layout of an estate rather than a settlement or town. The ruins of the monastery are not visible from Eccles House and one has to walk down carefully laid out paths to a large green mani36 

Watson, History of Celtic Place-Names, pp. 153, 242, 259, 267, 290, 349, 359. Murray, ‘Parish of Eccles’, p. 239. 38  Thompson, ‘Parish of Eccles’, p. 58. 37 

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cured space, flanked by a large concrete wall, approximately nine feet high. The walls enclose the east and north of the grounds of Eccles House and the layering suggests that the walls were re-purposed over the last seven hundred years as there are twelfth- and thirteenth-century stones at the bottom with later stonework above them. It is at this point that the monastic ruins became visible but it was difficult to distinguish what was behind an overgrowth of flowers, vines and roses and thistles. On further investigation, the outline of what remained of the decorative archways of the cloister were visible, thus identifying the location of the medi­eval cloister. The cloister’s plan has been somewhat compromised by the creation of a designed walled garden built in the first half of the nineteenth century to serve Eccles House and the further development of the garden to create pathways and walks.39 At the time the walled garden was accessible ‘through an iron gate in the south-east corner; another through a timber door in the northern wall, which leads to the former gardener’s cottage and the glasshouses’.40 Today, the iron gate has been blocked off by another property owner and the northern wall door is difficult to get through or even find due to overgrown vegetation. From here, the designed paths led to areas next to the cloister, consisting of a Victorian Summer House, and next to this a small, oblong area overgrown with ivy and other foliage. This small area with raised bench seats that extended along three walls, as well as a collection of carved stones, could be the site of the chapter house, especially given its location relative to the cloister. This find may be significant as it would be the only surviving remains of a chapter house with benches of a female monastery in Scotland. This area opened access to the most significant remains, the vaulted rooms and night stairs. The vaulted chambers smelled of damp and decay and were being used for garden storage and for the collection and storage of carved stones from the remains of the monastery. One of the vaulted chambers was inhabited by a colony of bats. The sense of confinement due to the darkness of this space contrasted with the open space and brightness of the sunshine outside. There were holes in the floor of the vaulted chambers and another stone floor, possibly medi­eval, was visible underneath. The vaulted chambers appear to be original, although showing signs of some repair, as they formed part of the structure of 39  Edinburgh, Historic Environment Scotland, Canmore, ‘Eccles House’, ‘Eccles Walled Garden’. 40  Edinburgh, Historic Environment Scotland, Canmore, ‘Eccles Walled Garden’.

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Figure 21.4. Eccles House Gardens, view from the remains of the dormitory range. Photo by K. Curran.

the night stairs. At the top, there was a large collection of carved and moulded stone littered along the walls. This collection of masonry had been reused as decoration for the garden. The night stairs provided an opportunity to view the monastic complex from a height. From this vantage point, it was possible to see the extent of the precinct walls around the grounds and how the medi­eval churchyard was deliberately cut off by the modern churchyard. The place was entirely isolated from the rest of the village (fig. 21.4). Descending the night stairs, it was easy to wander around and get lost in the ruins and the woodland. There was a sense of seclusion but also of discovery: fragments of masonry in the most unexpected places, paths hidden under the overgrowth of flowers in the garden, remnants of ivy-covered walkways, lumps and bumps on the ground, doorways in the wall leading into edgelands. In the cloister area, for example, a medi­eval piscina was found abandoned in the garden. The owner had built an iron enclosure to protect it from the elements and placed it in the centre of the cloister. Eccles House also had large stone containers that were re-purposed as planters and garden ornaments. With further

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investigation, this place offers the potential to discover how the cloister ruins were reused over time as well as to uncover possible material remains of the monastery and understand the development of Eccles House from its origins in the sixteenth century. Despite the survival of substantial ruins of Eccles monastery, women religious and their precinct still remain hidden and invisible in the village, as in the case of Abbey St Bathans and Coldstream.

Conclusion These case studies demonstrate the complexity and diversity of mapping historic places and recording the perception of places that remain overlooked and invisible to the modern viewer. All three sites differ, not just because of their location, but also how their precincts shaped later features that have played a large part in their visibility to this day. Walking through the designed places, such as the site of the precinct, drifting and exploring the place, getting lost and finding other paths, while attentive to emotional reactions has proved a useful tool in understanding the bio­graphy and afterlife of places that were special in the past. Tim Edensor has remarked that by walking we may walk ‘“elsewhere” to distant sights and scenes, back to the past and places in the imagination, and to remember smells, noises and non-visual sensations […] stimulated by the sights of the journey’.41 Experiential approaches to reading landscapes offer unlimited possibilities, especially if we want to uncover, understand, or raise awareness of medi­eval landscapes and places, and most especially the places of medi­eval female monasteries. All places are palimpsests and by recording and exploring them, we open up ways of seeing historical places and what they represent today as well as their long-term impact on the environment. While walking through and around these places has brought medi­eval female monasteries into the realm of perception, calling attention to things that are mere shadows, they remain invisible in their own localities. To transform and resuscitate the ghosts of the past requires the active endeavours of remembering and recreating memories to make them visible again.

41 

Edensor, ‘Walking through Ruins’, p. 135.

‘Shadows of Ghosts’

541

Works Cited Manu­scripts and Archival Sources Edinburgh, National Archives of Scotland, Register House Papers, RHP 4999 Edinburgh, National Library of Scotland, Berwickshire, John Blackadder, EMS.s.46. 1797 [accessed 1 July 2015] —— , The County of Berwick, T. Sharp, C. Greenwood, and W. Fowler, EMS.s.322. 1826 and [accessed 1 July 2015] —— , A  Description of the Province of the Merche, Adv. MS.70.2.10 (Gordon 58), 1632–52 [accessed 1 July 2015] ——  , General Hutton’s Notebooks, Adv. MSS.30.5.1–30.5.21; Adv. MSS.30.5.24–30.5.28 —— , Hutton’s Drawings, Adv. MS.30.5.22–23, f. 133 (32a); Adv. MS.30.5.22–23, f. 144 (31), vol. i: Berwickshire, Adv. MS.30.5.22–23, f. 133 (32a); Adv. MS.30.5.22–23, f. 144 (31) —— , Ordnance Survey, Berwickshire Sheet, XXIX.9 (Coldstream), 1885 [accessed 1 August 2015] —— , Town Maps, Plan of Coldstream, Earl of Haddington’s Property, EMS.s.371 London, British Library, MS  Harley 6670, Coldstream Priory Cartulary

Primary Sources Chronicle of Melrose, ed.  by Alan  O. Anderson and Marjorie  O. Anderson (London: Humphries, 1936) Edinburgh, Historic Environment Scotland, Canmore, ‘Abbey St  Bathans Church’, site no. 58780 —— , ‘Abbey St Bathans Well’, site no. 587760 —— , ‘Coldstream Priory’, site no. 59436 —— , ‘Eccles Greenhouse’, site no. 263121 —— , ‘Eccles House’, site no. 58540 —— , ‘Eccles Walled Garden’, site no. 218273 History of the Berwickshire Naturalist Club, ‘Abbey St Bathans’ (1910), 29–30

Secondary Works Anderson, Darren, Imaginary Cities (London: Influx, 2015) Ashmore, Wendy, ‘Social Archaeo­logies of Landscape’, in A Companion to Social Archaeo­ logy, ed. by Lynn Meskell and Robert Preucel (Oxford: Blackwell, 2004), pp. 255–71 Aston, Mick, Monasteries in the Landscape (Stroud: Amberley, 1993; repr. 2009) Bell, James, ‘Parish of Coldstream’, in The Statistical Account of Scotland, iv, ed. by John Sinclair (Edinburgh: William Creech, 1792), pp. 410–20 [accessed 1 July 2015]

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Berman, Connie, ‘Were There Twelfth-Century Cistercian Nuns?’, Church History, 68 (1999), 824–64 Bond, James, Monastic Landscapes (Stroud: Tempus, 2004) Bradley, Richard, Altering the Earth: The Origins of Monuments in Britain and Continental Europe (Edinburgh: Society of Antiquaries, 1993) Bruck, Joanna, ‘Experiencing the Past? The Development of a Phenomeno­logical Ar­ chaeo­logy in British Prehistory’, Archaeo­logical Dialogues, 12 (2005), 45–72 Candy, Julie M., The Archaeo­logy of Pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago de Compostela: A Landscape Perspective (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2009) Cassidy-Welch, Megan, Monastic Spaces and their Meanings: Thirteenth-Century English Cistercian Monasteries (Turnhout: Brepols, 2001) Coverley, Merlin, Psychogeo­graphy (Harpenden: Pocket Essentials, 2010) Cowan, Ian Borthwick, and David Edward Easson, Medi­eval Religious Houses in Scotland, with an Appendix on the Houses in the Isle of Man, 2nd edn (London: Longman, 1976) Creighton, Oliver, Designs upon the Land: Elite Landscape of the Middle Ages (Wood­ bridge: Boydell, 2009) Curran, Kimm, ‘Religious Women and their Communities in Late Medi­eval Scotland’ (un­published doctoral thesis, Uni­ver­sity of Glasgow, 2005) Dobson, Stephen, and Paul Selman, ‘Applying Historic Landscape Characterization to Spatial Planning: From Remnants to Remanence’, Planning, Practice and Research, 27 (2012), 459–74 Edensor, Tim, ‘The Ghosts of Industrial Ruins: Ordering and Disordering Memory in Excessive Space’, Environment and Planning: Society and Space, 23 (2005), 829–49 —— , ‘Walking through Ruins’, in Ways of Walking: Ethno­graphy and Practice on Foot, ed. by Tim Ingold and Jo Lee Vergunst (Farnham: Ashgate, 2008), pp. 123–41 Fleming, Andrew, ‘The Crossing of Dartmoor’, Landscape History, 32.1 (2011), 27–45 Fontijn, David, ‘The Significance of Invisible Places’, World Archaeo­logy, 39 (2007), 70–83 Frieman, Catherine, and Mark Gillings, ‘Seeing Is Perceiving?’, World Archaeo­logy, 39 (2007), 4–16 Gardiner, Mark F., and Stephen Rippon, Medi­eval Landscapes (Oxford: Windgather, 2010) Gilchrist, Roberta, Gender and Material Culture: The Archaeo­logy of Religious Women (London: Routledge, 1994) Giles, Kate, ‘Seeing Is Believing: Visuality and Space in Pre-Modern England’, World Archaeo­logy, 39 (2007), 105–21 Goldie, Thomas S., ‘Parish of Coldstream’, in The New Statistical Account of Scotland: By the Ministers of the Respective Parishes, under the Superintendence of a Committee of the Society for the Benefit of the Sons and Daughters of the Clergy, ii, ed. by John Gordon (Edinburgh: Blackwoods and Sons, 1845), pp. 199–214; [accessed 1 July 2015] Hall, Dianne, Women and the Church in Medi­eval Ireland, c. 1140–1540 (Dublin: Four Courts, 2003) Hamilton, Elsa, Mighty Subjects: The Dunbar Earls in Scotland, c. 1072–1289 (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2010)

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Herring, Peter, ‘Shadows of Ghosts: Early Medi­eval Transhumants in Cornwall’, in Life in Medi­eval Landscapes: Peoples and Places in the Middle Ages: Papers in Memory of H. S. A. Fox, ed. by Sam Turner and Robert J. Silvester (Oxford: Windgather, 2012), pp. 89–105 Ingold, Timothy, ‘Against Space: Place, Movement, Knowledge’, in Boundless Worlds: An Anthropo­logical Approach to Movement, ed. by Peter Kirby (Oxford: Berghahn, 2009), pp. 23–49 Laing, Henry, Supplemental Descriptive Catalogue of Ancient Scottish Seals, Royal, Baron­ ial, Ecclesiastical, and Municipal, Embracing the Period from ad 1150 to the Eighteenth Century (Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas, 1866) McAlister, Vicky, and Terry Barry, eds, Space and Settlement in Medi­eval Ireland (Dublin: Four Courts, 2015) Murray, Adam, ‘Parish of Eccles’, in The Statistical Account of Scotland, xi, ed. by John Sinclair (Edinburgh: William Creech, 1794), pp.  230–42 [accessed 1 July 2015] Porteous, Alexander, The Town Council Seals of Scotland: Historic, Legendary and Heraldic (Edinburgh: Johnson, 1906) Richardson, Tina, ed., Walking Inside Out: Contemporary British Psychogeo­ graphy (London: Rowman and Littlefield, 2015) Sked, John, ‘Parish of Abbay of St Bathans’, in The Statistical Account of Scotland, xii, ed. by John Sinclair (Edinburgh: William Creech, 1794), pp.  61–66 [accessed 1 July 2015] Solnut, Rebecca, Wanderlust: A History of Walking (London: Granta, 2001) Taylor, Simon, ‘Seventh-Century Iona Abbots in Scottish Place-Names’, in Spes Scotorum: Hope of Scots: Saint Columba, Iona and Scotland, ed. by Dauvit Broun and Thomas Owen Clancy (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1999), pp. 53–70 Thompson, James, ‘Parish of Eccles’, in The New Statistical Account of Scotland: By the Ministers of the Respective Parishes, under the Superintendence of a Committee of the Society for the Benefit of the Sons and Daughters of the Clergy, ii, ed. by John Gordon (Edinburgh: Blackwoods and Sons, 1845), pp. 50–62; [accessed 1 August 2015] Tilley, Christopher, The Materiality of Stone: Explorations in Landscape Phenomeno­logy (Oxford: Berg, 2004) Wallace, John, ‘Parish of Abbey St Bathans’, in The New Statistical Account of Scotland: By the Ministers of the Respective Parishes, under the Superintendence of a Committee of the Society for the Benefit of the Sons and Daughters of the Clergy, ii, ed. by John Gordon (Edinburgh: Blackwoods and Sons, 1845), pp. 105–14; [accessed 1 July 2015] Walsham, Alexandra, The Reformation of the Landscape: Religion, Identity, and Memory in Early Modern Britain and Ireland (Oxford: Oxford Uni­ver­sity Press, 2011) Watson, William J., History of Celtic Place-Names of Scotland (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni­ ver­sity Press, 1926)

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Weikert, Katherine, ‘The Bio­graphy of a Place: Faccombe Netherton, Hampshire, ca 900–1200’, Anglo-Norman Studies, 37 (2015), 257–84 Whyte, Nicola, Inhabiting the Landscape: Place, Custom and Memory, 1500–1800 (Oxford: Windgather, 2009) —— , ‘Senses of Place, Senses of Time: Landscape History from a British Perspective’, Land­ scape Research, 40 (2015), 925–48 Williams, Howard, ‘Monuments and the Past in Early Anglo-Saxon England’, World Archaeo­logy, 30 (1998), 90–108 Witcher, Robert, Divya P. Tolia-Kelly, and Richard Hingley, ‘Archaeo­logies of Landscape: Excavating the Materialities of Hadrian’s Wall’, Journal of Material Culture, 15 (2010), 105–28 Wylie, John, ‘A Single Day’s Walking: Narrating Self and Landscape on the South West Coast Path’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geo­graphers, 30 (2005), 234–47

Index

Anglo-Normans England: 73–97 Ireland: 26, 122–50, 278, 286–87 Norway: 57–58 Wales: 5–6, 103–16 architecture, monastic abbot’s house/palace: 38, 61, 407, 425, 426, 484, 485, 488 altars: 47, 55, 88, 186, 196, 394, 399–400, 418, 420, 422 ambulatories: 56, 129, 136–37, 139, 145–46, 148, 264, 266, 409, 417 building materials: 263, 387–88, 397, 407, 488–89 chancel: 55–56, 127, 140, 143, 145–46, 148, 288, 389, 391, 394, 398–99, 417 chapels: 49, 53–54, 89, 127, 147, 172–73, 185, 221, 232, 235, 263–64, 266, 270, 273, 315, 343–44, 373, 391, 397, 409, 417–18, 445, 453, 485, 497, 524, 533 chapter houses: 38, 61, 137–38, 142, 146, 171–76, 178, 185–87, 189, 221, 308, 310, 321, 346, 396, 422, 537–38 choirs: 258–59, 261, 265–68, 270, 272–73, 407, 417–20, 425–26 cloisters: 9–10, 24, 38, 51, 61, 127, 129–30, 132, 135–38, 140, 145–50, 170–91, 292–94, 310, 318, 321, 348–49, 351, 397, 399, 409, 415, 420–23, 425–26, 524, 533, 538–40 dormitories: 127, 173–77, 180, 185, 396, 407, 422–23, 537, 539

fountains: 177, 415, 421–23, 425 naves: 51, 56, 129, 132–34, 140–41, 143, 148–49, 174, 176, 263–64, 266–68, 288, 349, 389, 398–400, 418 plans: 143–47, 172–76, 261–64, 266, 270, 282, 289, 293, 308–10, 313, 317, 320, 397–99, 408, 414–15, 417, 420–21, 480, 486, 491, 538 refectories: 25, 32–33, 37–38, 61, 127, 171–73, 175–76, 318, 321, 396, 407, 415, 423, 425–26, 491 Basque country: 5, 9, 503–21 Benedict of Aniane: 26 Bernard of Clairvaux: 21, 25–26, 176–77, 280 Bohemia: 215–39, 340, 500 Catalonia: 8, 155–69 Cathedral cities Auxerre (France): 257, 269, 273 Bergen (Norway): 8, 11, 45, 47, 51–52, 56–57, 59–62, 64, 66–69, 337–39, 343 Châlons-sur-Marne (France): 264 Chartres (France): 266 Cologne (Germany): 6–7, 26–29, 54, 345, 407–11, 413, 425–26 Dublin (Ireland): 27–30, 33–34, 37, 123, 148, 287, 289 Laon (France): 269–71 Niðarós (Trondheim, Norway): 51–52, 56, 68, 332, 338 Paris (France): 11, 257–59, 262, 264–65, 340, 345

INDEX

546

Reims (France): 257, 260, 264–66, 269–70, 272, 274 Rouen (France): 11, 76, 257, 269, 272, 274 Soissons (France): 264–67 Turku (Finland): 10, 303–28, 339, 341, 346 Croatia: 383–400 Czechia: 215–39 Denmark: 6, 11, 29, 59, 60, 313, 316, 332, 338–40, 345, 349, 351 Dunstan of Glastonbury: 34 economy, monastic arable farming: 12, 394, 432, 437–38, 440 estates: 12–13, 37, 67–68, 80–81, 84–85, 89, 91–92, 124–25, 159, 306, 311, 386, 388–89, 391, 393–94, 410, 431–33, 440, 443, 446, 452, 458, 460–61, 470, 492, 497, 524, 530, 537 exports: 438, 464–66, 469–70 expansion: 4, 12, 75–76, 94–95, 105, 228, 238, 295, 340, 360, 363, 370, 383–86, 431, 434–35, 503–04 fisheries: 6, 13, 16, 436, 451–75, 524 forests: 12, 265, 394, 432, 434, 438–46, 530 goldsmiths: 5, 344, 352 granaries: 14, 414, 437 granges: 14, 204, 409, 431–42, 446–47 horses: 444, 446 hunting: 12, 314–15, 440–46 industry: 13, 335, 439–40 labour: 4, 5, 22–23, 31, 178, 319, 416, 435–36, 463 marine resources: 13, 315, 318, 457, 465, 470 maritime contacts: 5, 13–14, 16, 45–46, 64–65, 68, 203, 303, 305, 312, 314–15, 317–18, 320–21, 323 markets: 16, 22–23, 217, 219, 224–25, 310, 314, 332, 349, 437, 439, 446, 459, 464–66, 469–70, 480, 534–36 merchants: 3, 5, 29, 150, 221–23, 227, 239, 332, 342–43, 465, 470, 515–16 mills: 12, 14, 83, 84, 311–12, 394, 416, 439–40, 524, 533, 536 orchards: 524, 526 pasture: 90, 433, 438, 440, 442, 524, 533 quarrying: 416, 418

rivers: 6, 12, 13–14, 16, 103, 104, 110, 123, 126, 149, 217, 221–23, 230, 272, 273, 289, 307, 309–12, 316, 360, 362, 368, 375, 389, 393, 409, 434, 436, 440–42, 451–70, 477–98, 530–33, 534–36 salmon: 6, 13, 16, 441, 451–70, 536 salt: 6, 13, 14, 16, 84, 437, 454, 455, 464–65, 477–82, 488, 491–95, 524 ships/boats: 13, 46, 51, 65, 237, 317, 455, 459, 462, 466, 477, 480, 491–97 shoemakers: 5, 344, 352 tanning: 14, 439 technology: 16, 439, 461 tenants: 25, 32–33, 39, 75, 81–82, 431, 436, 441–46, 451, 462, 468 tithes/cáin: 84, 196, 413, 454 water: 132, 175, 189, 230, 311, 345, 348, 415–16, 440, 480, 482–83, 485–91, 495, 533–34 weirs: 451, 458–63, 467, 469–70 wood: 12, 51, 53, 54, 57, 83, 90, 145, 265, 311, 319, 341, 394, 396–97, 415, 438, 440–42, 445, 459, 463, 485–87, 490, 492, 495, 497, 532–33, 537, 539 wool: 13, 14, 431, 438–39 vineyards: 12, 156, 163, 164, 394 England: 2, 6, 10, 25, 29, 30, 34, 56–58, 60, 64, 73–74, 76, 82, 86, 95, 104, 115, 138, 145, 147, 150, 278, 280, 286, 294–95, 340, 345, 432, 439–40, 444–45, 459, 465, 515, 534 Finland: 303–28 frontiers: 15, 73–75, 94–97, 103–19, 157, 303–28, 333, 372, 375, 410, 528–30, 534 Geoffrey de Geneville: 122–26, 149–50 Gerald of Wales (Giraldus Cambrensis): 21, 106 Germany: 4, 15, 62–64, 224, 335, 340, 407–29 Gillebertus, bishop of Limerick: 279 Hungary: 6, 14, 16, 229, 239, 340, 384–403, 477–502

INDEX Ireland: 1–2, 7, 9–10, 12, 16, 21–43, 54, 64, 122–53, 277–301, 348–49, 460 Italy: 2, 15, 64, 196–212, 294, 359 Jerusalem: 8, 161–63, 165–66, 183, 190 landscape see rural monastic landscape; urban monastic landscape mendicant orders Carmelites: 357–58, 506 Dominicans: 5, 6, 10–12, 66, 121–53, 226–27, 235–36, 282, 303, 307–19, 321–23, 332–56, 357–58, 487, 506, 508, 510, 514 Franciscans: Friars Minor Conventual, Friars Minor Observants, Strict Observants (Capuchin): 4, 5, 6, 10, 11–12, 13, 16, 23, 30, 108, 228–29, 231, 234, 236–37, 239, 282, 303, 312–18, 322, 340, 345, 350–52, 357–81 military orders Brothers (Canons) of the Holy Sepulchre: 161–63, 222 Hospitallers: 222, 227, 238 Order of St John: 222 Order of the Crusaders of the Red Star: 11, 13, 233, 236–39 Order of the Knights of the Cross/ Crosiers with the Red Heart: 218, 223, 237 Orders of Santiago, Calatrava and Alcántara: 513 Templars/ Order of the Temple: 227 Teutonic Knights/ Teutonic Order: 11, 223–24, 233–34, 238, 345 monasteries (abbeys, friaries, hospitals, and priories) Alenquer (Portugal): 360–62, 367–68, 372 Århus (Denmark): 338, 344 Armagh (Ireland): 22, 24, 26, 33, 34–36, 37, 39, 122, 150, 279, 283, 284, 286, 288 Asseiceira (Portugal): 372 Bakva (Croatia): 385, 386–87, 388, 393, 394, 397 Bangor (Ireland): 27 Beja (Portugal): 364

547

Beauly (Scotland): 463–64, 470 Bizere (Bisra) (Romania): 478–502 Bragança (Portugal): 364, 366–68 Břevnov (Czechia): 221 Buildwas (England): 5, 110–12, 114 Calder (England): 77, 83, 90 Cambuskenneth (Scotland): 5, 13, 16, 434, 451–75 Caminha (Portugal): 372, 373 Carlingford (Ireland): 143 Cashel (Ireland): 143 Castanheira (Portugal): 372 Cîteaux (France): 109–11, 116, 196–98, 206, 425 Clairvaux (France): 21, 25, 104, 109–13, 116, 176, 280, 409, 417–18, 425 Clonfad (Ireland): 39 Clonmacnoise (Ireland): 10, 33, 37, 38, 278, 283, 287, 288, 291, 292 Cluny (France): 172, 175, 177–78, 181, 186, 189, 191, 200, 268, 457 Coimbra (Portugal): 360–62, 367–68 Convento de Nossa Senhora da Estrela (Portugal): 375–76 Convento de Santa Maria de Jesus de Xabregas (Portugal): 375 Convento de São Francisco (Évora, Portugal): 364, 366, 369–70 Convento de São Francisco (Loulé, Portugal): 370 Convento de São Francisco (Torres Vedras, Portugal): 370 Convento de São Francisco do Monte (Viana do Castelo, Portugal): 373 Coupar Angus (Scotland): 12, 14, 432–50 Covilhã (Portugal): 364 Dobra Kuća (Croatia): 385, 386, 389, 390, 393, 395, 397 Donja Vrijeska (Croatia): 384 Dubica (Croatia): 384, 386, 393, 394, 397 Ermida de Santo Antão dos Olivais (Portugal): 362 Ermida de Santa Catarina (Portugal): 362, 368 Ermida dos Mártires (Portugal): 362 Estremoz (Portugal): 364 Fleury (France): 29 Fontenay (France): 174, 176, 180–81

548

Furness (England): 76, 77, 90, 96 Glenisla (Scotland): 12, 14, 432–50 Gorze (Germany): 27–29 Guarda (Portugal): 364 Guimarães (Portugal): 360, 362, 365, 367–68 Hamnö Island (Finland): 318 Heisterbach (Germany): 4, 7, 10, 407–29 Helsingør (Denmark): 337, 341, 350–51 Himmerod (Germany): 408–09, 411, 425 Holm Cultram (England): 78–79, 90, 92, 94, 97 Inchcleraun (Ireland): 9 Kalmar (Sweden): 312, 314, 322, 339, 341 Kamensko (Croatia): 384–86, 388–90, 392–93, 395, 397 Kells (Co. Kilkenny, Ireland): 142–43 Kells (Co. Meath, Ireland): 33, 36–38, 277, 284, 289 Kilmallock (Ireland): 143 Kökar (Finland): 5, 13, 316–18, 320, 323 Lamego (Portugal): 364 Lanercost (England): 75, 79 Leiria (Portugal): 364 Lepoglava (Croatia): 384–88, 390–93, 395, 397, 400 Lisbon (Portugal): 360–62, 370, 375 Lödöse (Sweden): 339, 341 Longpont (France): 264 Lorrha (Ireland): 26 Lund (Sweden): 336, 338 Malmö (Sweden): 345 Matosinhos (Portugal): 372–73 Mellifont (Ireland): 24, 280 Moissac (France): 173–74, 177, 188–90 Mons Sion (Strahov, Prague, Czechia): 221 Monte Cassino (Italy): 175 Monte de Santa Catarina (Portugal): 362 Moslavina Mountain (Croatia): 384, 386–87, 393–95, 397–400 Naantali (Finland): 319–21, 322 Niðarhólmr (Norway): 68 Niðarós (Tronheim, Norway): 51–52, 56, 68, 332, 338 Notre-Dame de Paris (France): 11, 262, 264–65 Odense (Denmark): 6, 11, 58–60, 338, 341 Oporto (Portugal): 364 Oslo (Norway): 51, 52, 338, 344

INDEX Padise (Estonia): 306 Petersberg Mountain (Germany): 10, 408–26 Portalegre (Portugal): 364 Rathfran (Ireland): 145 Rauma (Finland): 312, 314–16, 322–23 Remete (Croatia): 384, 386, 390–91, 393–95, 397–98, 400 Ribe (Denmark): 332, 338, 341, 346 Rivalta Scrivia (Italy): 207 Roskilde (Denmark): 336, 338, 341 Ross Errilly (Ireland): 145 St Bees (England): 7, 75–78, 80–86, 88–95, 97 St Benedict (Prague, Czechia): 233, 386, 393 St Clement (Prague, Czechia): 226, 228, 234, 236 St Crépin-le-Grand (Soissons, France): 265–67 Saint-Denis (Paris, France): 257, 274 Saint-Eloi (Noyon, France): 257, 260–62, 264 Saint-Germain (Auxerre, France): 257, 273 Saint-Germain-des-Prés (Paris, France): 257–59 St James (Prague, Czechia): 228, 231 St Laurence (Prague, Czechia): 227 Saint-Martial (Limoges, France): 257, 268–69 Saint-Martin/ Marmoutiers (Tours, France): 257, 267 St Mary’s (Carlisle, England): 75, 92 St Mary’s (Cork, Ireland): 145 St Mary’s (Prague, Czechia): 221 St Mary’s (York, England): 76, 80 Saint-Ouen (Rouen, France): 257, 272, 274 St Olaf (Turku, Finland): 307–08 St Peter of Zderaz (Prague, Czechia): 222 Saint-Remi (Reims, France): 257, 260, 266, 270 St Saviour’s (Dublin, Ireland): 148 Saint-Trophîme (Arles, France): 175, 177, 183–84 Saint-Vincent (Laon, France): 270–71 St Vitus (Prague, Czechia): 217, 221 San Domingo de Silos (Spain): 170, 172, 176, 178–91

INDEX San Pietro in Canonica di Amalfi (Italy): 199 Santa Maria di Lucedio (Vercelli, Italy): 5, 201–06 Santa Maria de Vilabertran (Catalonia): 8, 155–69 Santarém (Portugal): 364, 375 Schleswig (Denmark): 337, 338, 341–42 Selja (Norway): 8, 11, 13, 15, 30, 45–72 Šenkovec (Croatia): 384–86, 390–91, 393, 395, 397, 400 Shrewsbury (England): 108 Sigtuna (Sweden): 308, 339, 351 Skänninge (Sweden): 339, 341 Sligo (Ireland): 143, 145–46 Stockholm (Sweden): 315, 339, 341, 343–44 Strata Florida (Wales): 93, 104, 116 Strata Marcella (Wales): 5, 6, 103–19 Streza (Croatia): 384–88, 394–95, 397–98, 400 Subiaco (Italy): 64–65 Tallaght (Ireland): 26, 33 Tallinn (Estonia): 311, 317, 323, 332, 338, 341, 344, 346–48 Tavira (Portugal): 364 Torres Vedras (Portugal): 364, 370 Trim (Ireland): 10, 12, 121–53 Turku (Finland): 10, 303–28 Vadstena (Sweden): 319, 320 Valença (Portugal): 372–73 Valle Crucis (Wales): 113–16 Viana do Castelo (Portugal): 372–73 Vila Nova de Cerveira (Portugal): 372–73 Visby (Sweden): 323, 339, 341, 343 Vyborg (Finland): 12, 312–14, 316, 322–23, 332, 339, 341 Wetheral (England): 76–77, 79 Whitland (Wales): 5, 104, 109–15 Zlat (Croatia): 384–86, 388–89, 393–95, 399–400 monastic orders Augustinian: 7, 8, 9, 10, 13, 16, 30, 33, 35, 75, 78, 81, 86, 126, 149, 155–69, 280–82, 284, 291, 293, 295, 408, 451–75, 506, 508 Benedictine: 6–8, 11, 13–16, 22, 25–30, 32–35, 37, 44–46, 49, 51–52, 56–62,

549

64–69, 76, 80, 94, 175–76, 180, 189–90, 208, 221, 258–76, 282, 307, 338, 363, 393, 410, 457, 477–502 Brigittine: 66–68, 303–05, 307, 319–20, 322, 506, 512–13 Cistercian: 4–5, 7, 8, 10, 12, 14, 24, 76, 78, 86, 87, 92, 93–94, 96, 103–19, 176, 195–212, 222, 258, 264, 280–84, 306–07, 347–48, 363, 407–29, 431–50, 452, 457, 462, 508, 513 Cluniac: 171–78, 181, 186, 189, 191, 197, 268, 306, 457 Crosiers of the Red Heart: 218, 223, 237 Gilbertine: 86, 282 Pauline/Order of St Paul the First Hermit: 4, 12, 383–403 Premonstratensian: 25, 92, 221, 282, 289, 417 Savigniac: 76, 103 monasticism acculturation: 95–96, 104–19 archaeology: 4, 14, 37–39, 53, 59, 121–53, 277–301, 303–28, 342, 383, 394–95, 397–98, 400, 407–29, 457, 484, 488, 526–28 archives: 8, 112, 155–69, 205, 384, 464 Christianization: 3, 45, 47, 53–54, 65, 69, 156–57, 217, 303–07, 322, 346 crusades: 8, 82, 161–62, 165, 306, 312 destruction: 78, 131, 185, 258, 270, 384, 394, 407, 425, 441, 525 devotion: 6, 7, 10, 24, 87–88, 90, 165, 198, 393 dissolution: 6, 46, 65–69, 141, 142, 149, 227, 295, 321, 384, 391–92, 407, 416, 426, 469, 470, 525 evangelization: 229, 362 historic geomorphology: 481, 483 hybridization: 3, 21, 304, 306, 323 lordship: 6, 73–102, 103–19, 122, 436, 458, 505 papacy: 96, 371 patrons: 3, 4, 6, 10, 14, 74, 76–78, 80–93, 96, 103–19, 121–25, 146, 148, 150, 155, 161, 195–212, 234, 260, 277, 281, 286–87, 290, 295, 309, 367, 392, 394, 411, 434, 479, 504, 512, 517, 526, 528, 530

550

reform: 9, 21–43, 74, 96, 111–12, 116, 130, 157, 176–77, 221–23, 277–301, 359, 377–78, 383, 425 reformation: 3, 6, 46, 65, 67–69, 321–22, 332, 452, 525 royal authority: 4–7, 11, 14, 34, 58, 60, 76–79, 91, 96, 111, 113, 233–34, 270, 294, 315, 339, 340, 352, 365, 375, 377, 393, 433–34, 438, 440–42, 451, 453–55, 460–61, 478–80, 482, 488, 504, 512 monastic communities abbots: 5, 8, 9, 22, 25, 27, 28, 33–36, 38, 59–62, 66–68, 87, 109–16, 122, 157, 159–60, 162–63, 165, 176, 185, 189–90, 198, 201–07, 261, 267, 270, 280, 347, 407, 409, 422, 425–26, 441, 444, 446, 452, 455, 466–68, 484–85, 488 beatas/beaterios (Basque country): 9, 505–06, 508, 517 bishops: 6–7, 11, 25, 27–30, 34–36, 51, 59–60, 66–67, 69, 76, 82, 93, 96, 114–16, 122, 127, 148, 150, 195–96, 204, 222, 226, 258, 260, 265, 267–68, 270, 273, 278–79, 287, 306–07, 338–39, 346, 408, 410–11, 413, 426, 434, 478, 482 canonesses: 293, 413, 506, 508 chastity: 31, 33, 207 confraternities: 344 conversi: 14, 432, 435–37 cura animarum (pastoral activities): 15, 196, 215–16, 221, 226, 315, 335, 343, 364 dowries: 504, 515–16, 518 familia monastica: 1, 2, 3–9, 15, 21, 195–212 familiares: 5, 195, 197, 199, 201, 206–08 friars: 8, 11, 12, 13, 24, 108, 121–53, 216, 227, 230, 236, 238, 309, 312, 315, 331–56, 357–81 general chapters: 5, 109–11, 114–16, 148, 197–99, 206–07, 425, 439 hospitality: 12, 89, 106, 189, 191, 202, 221, 446 identity: 8, 46, 56, 69, 74, 77–78, 91, 93–94, 104–19

INDEX internationality: 3, 7, 9, 13, 21, 27, 51, 105, 114, 116, 222, 238, 343 laity: 3, 25, 148, 195–212, 279, 309 lay brethren: 409, 416, 418, 425, 432, 435 liturgy: 1, 5, 7, 8, 10, 23, 39, 62, 68, 69, 171, 180–91, 293, 307, 343 mandatum (Maundy): 189–91 memory: 8, 10, 46, 56, 69, 115, 197, 202, 205, 384, 518, 525–28, 535–36 monks: 7, 8, 11, 12, 25–26, 29, 31, 33, 36, 37, 39, 52, 54, 58, 60, 62, 66–68, 76–77, 79, 83, 86–91, 93, 96, 104–05, 109–13, 116, 171, 177–81, 183, 185–86, 191, 195, 197–98, 200–01, 203–05, 207–08, 258, 261, 265, 267–68, 270, 293, 319, 321, 338, 386, 388–92, 395–96, 409–16, 418, 422, 425–26, 433–41, 445–46, 457, 470 nuns: 5, 8, 10, 25, 52, 66–67, 277–301, 319–21, 335, 487, 503–21, 523–44 poverty: 3, 4, 10, 23, 31, 146, 196, 362, 375 priests: 82, 35, 37, 67–69, 200, 343 regular clergy: 75, 87–88, 503 spirituality: 1, 7, 10, 11, 14, 15–16, 22, 25, 30, 80, 85–87, 89, 91–92, 94–95, 198–200, 202, 207–08, 215, 219–20, 224, 230, 258, 272, 293, 352, 357–81, 409, 425, 431, 480, 504, 524 stabilitas: 34, 206, 315 vowesses: 278, 294 widows: 86, 163, 294, 507, 509, 515, 518 monastic rules and customs Arrouasian observance (Augustinian): 280–82, 286, 295 Benedict, Rule of: 23, 25–30, 33–35, 58, 89, 172–73, 175–76, 201, 207, 265 Carta caritatis (Cistercian): 113, 195 céli Dé (culdees): 30, 36–37 Constitutions of the Dominican Order: 146 Ordo Cluniacensis (Bernard of Cluny): 171, 175, 178, 181, 186, 190 Regula Aquensis (Augustinian): 156 Regularis concordia: 26, 30, 34, 294 Francis of Assisi, Rule of: 1, 4, 23–24, 31

INDEX Norway: 8, 11, 15, 29–30, 44–72, 332, 338–39, 351 nunneries Abbey St Bathans (Scotland): 523, 528–33, 534, 535, 537, 540 Aghade (Ireland): 283–84 Annaghdown (Ireland): 284, 289, 293 Ardcarn (Ireland): 284, 286, 289, 292 Balmaseda (Basque country): 508, 515–16 Bidaurreta-Oñati (Basque country): 512, 514 Calliaghstown (Ireland): 284, 292 Caltragh (Ireland): 284, 289 Clonard (Ireland): 283–84, 286, 288, 292 Clonbroney (Ireland): 278 Clonfert (Ireland): 284, 286, 289 Clonmacnoise (Ireland): 10, 278, 283, 287–88, 291–92 Cloonburren (Ireland): 278 Coldstream (Scotland): 523, 528–30, 534–36 Derrane (Ireland): 284, 288–89 Downpatrick (Ireland): 283–84, 287, 292 Drumalgagh (Ireland): 283–84, 291–92 Duleek (Ireland): 284, 289, 292 Durrow (Ireland): 284, 289, 292 Eccles (Scotland): 528–30, 537–40 Glendalough (Ireland): 278 Grace Dieu (Ireland): 284, 287, 292 Harrold (England): 280 Inishmaine (Ireland): 293 Kells (Ireland): 284, 289 Kilbride (Ireland): 284, 289 Kilcreevanty (Ireland): 286 Kilculliheen (Ireland): 283–84, 289, 293 Kildare (Ireland): 278, 283–84, 287, 290, 292 Killeigh (Ireland): 284, 287, 292 Killevy (Ireland): 278, 283–84, 288, 290, 292 Killone (Ireland): 282–83, 291, 292 Lasarte (Basque country): 506, 512–13, 518 Lusk (Ireland): 284, 287, 289, 291 Naantali (Finland): 319–22 Purísima Concepción de Isasi, Eibar (Basque country): 508, 516 Roscommon (Ireland): 284, 289 St Brigit’s, Armagh (Ireland): 283–84, 288

551

St Brigit’s, Odder (Ireland): 283–84, 287, 289 St Francis, Prague (Czechia): 229, 233 St George, Prague (Czechia): 217, 221 St Mary’s, Bergen (Norway): 67 St Mary de Hogges, Dublin (Ireland): 283–84, 289, 293 St Peter’s Cell (Ireland): 282–84, 290, 293 San Telmo, San Sebastian (Basque country): 508, 513 Santa Ana, Lazkao (Basque country): 508, 512 Santa Ana, Soraluze (Basque country): 508 Santa Cruz, Azkoitia (Basque country): 506, 514 Santa Cruz, Bilbao (Basque country): 508 Santa Cruz, Vitoria (Basque country): 506, 514 Santa Margarita, Ermua (Basque country): 506, 515 Santa Teresa, Lazkao (Basque country): 508, 512 Santísima Trinidad, Begara (Basque country): 506, 514 Santísima Trinidad, Bidaurreta-Oñati (Basque country): 506, 512, 514 Santo Domingo, San Sebastian (Basque country): 508, 513 Skreen (Ireland): 284, 289 Taghmon (Ireland): 283–84, 290 Termonfeckin (Ireland): 284, 289, 293 Timolin (Ireland): 283–84, 287, 292–93 pilgrimage: 7, 8, 13, 27, 28–29, 31, 36, 48, 53–54, 56, 62, 88, 156–69, 203, 223, 239, 319, 321, 360, 399, 527 Portugal: 4, 10, 12, 357–81 Prague: 5, 6, 10, 11, 13, 216–56, 345 relics: 7, 8, 11, 15, 27, 29–30, 37, 45–47, 54, 58, 61, 257, 274 Reconquista: 165–66, 364 Romania: 14, 477, 479, 494 Rome: 8, 26–29, 161, 164, 371 rural monastic landscape islands: 5, 8–9, 11,13–15, 37, 45–72, 316–18, 347, 454, 469, 480–90, 497, 498

552

marshes: 223, 310, 433, 524 mountains: 4, 10, 12, 64, 217, 372, 384, 386–88, 390, 393–95, 397–400, 408–09, 411, 413–14, 416, 418, 426, 488, 492 rivers: 6, 12–14, 16, 90, 104, 110, 123, 126, 149, 217, 221–23, 230, 272–73, 289, 307, 309–12, 316, 360, 362, 368, 375, 389, 393, 409, 434, 436, 440–42, 452–75, 477–502, 530–35, 536 sea: 14, 16, 45–46, 49, 65, 68, 303, 305, 314–18, 320–21, 323, 359, 460, 465, 470, 511–13 valleys: 4, 12, 64, 222, 390, 393, 411, 413, 415–16, 418, 426, 477–79, 491, 493, 530, 533 villages : 4, 12, 156, 158, 219, 221, 394, 408, 410, 413–14, 424, 454, 480, 497, 505, 524–25, 530, 537, 539–40 saints Alban: 8, 45, 49, 52–53, 57–61, 65–69 Bega: 7, 80, 84, 88–91 Benedict: 64, 172–73, 201, 207, 233, 386, 393 Bernard of Clairvaux: 21, 25, 176, 280 Bridget (Birgitta) of Sweden: 66, 513 Brigit: 283–84, 288, 290 Cathróe: 27 Columba: 7, 24, 457 Columbanus: 27 Denis: 257, 274 Eloi: 11, 257, 260–65 Germain: 257, 258–59, 273 George: 217, 221 Halvarðr: 51 Lomán: 122 Malachy: 26, 279–81, 283, 286 Martial: 7, 257, 268–69 Martin: 267 Mary: 54, 66–67, 75–76, 80, 88–90, 121, 126, 145, 149, 201, 208, 221, 222, 227, 261, 283, 284, 289, 293, 312, 386–87, 390–91, 393, 398, 451, 453, 468, 480 Michael the Archangel: 54 Óláfr: 51, 307–08 Ouen: 257, 272, 274 Norbert of Prémontré: 25

INDEX Remi: 7, 257, 260, 266, 270 Seljumenn: 8, 44–72 Sunniva: 8, 30, 44–72 Ursula: 29, 54 Vincent: 270–71 Vitus: 217, 221 Sanitago de Compostela (Spain): 7–8, 161, 164, 360, 512–13, 527 Scotland: 2, 5, 12, 13, 14, 27, 64, 73, 75–79, 83, 95–96, 349, 431–50, 451–75, 523–44 Slavonia: 12, 383–403 Spain: 15, 163, 164, 172–94, 503, 513, 515, 517, 518 spatial organization, monastic burials/cemeteries: 7, 37–38, 54, 128–29, 133, 140–42, 148–49, 159, 164, 185, 191, 204, 311, 339, 417, 422, 504, 507, 509, 512, 518, 529, 537 double houses (female and male): 67, 231, 234, 237, 239, 282 enclosures: 9, 17, 38–39, 438 gardens: 10, 36, 127, 174, 318, 321, 323, 425, 524, 526, 533–34, 538–39 hermitages: 362, 368–69, 373 hospitals (leprosoria): 6, 68, 216, 221, 227, 229–30, 233–34, 236, 238–40, 332, 368, 392 parish churches: 11, 216, 226, 229, 316, 319, 321, 322, 333, 335, 343–44, 392, 434–35, 461, 530–31 precincts: 4, 23, 32, 89, 115, 127, 140, 200, 263, 268, 290, 338, 365, 415, 416, 425, 426, 468, 523–26, 528, 530–34, 536–37, 539–40 relocation: 319, 344, 345–46 settlements: 2, 8–12, 22–23, 25, 31, 36, 37–39, 45, 54, 64–65, 68–69, 74–75, 79–83, 86, 93, 121–23, 128, 204, 216–56, 303–27, 331–56, 358–81, 384–403, 407–29, 438, 480, 492, 523–25, 530, 532–34 water: 175, 189, 190, 230, 311, 333, 341, 345, 348, 415–16, 440, 482–91, 495, 498, 524, 533–34 wells: 54, 128, 190, 201, 311, 397, 415–17, 487, 524, 532–33 Sweden: 11, 66, 303, 305–06, 317, 319, 332, 339, 345, 351, 513

INDEX texts Brut y Tywysogion: 115 Chronicle of Marianus Scottus: 28 Liber capituli of Lucedio: 5, 201–06 De claustro animae (Hugh of Fouilloy): 191 De Statu Ecclesiae (Gillebertus of Limerick): 279 Dialogus Miraculorum (Caesarius of Heisterbach): 408–22 Gesta Hammaburgensis Ecclesiae Pontificum (Adam of Bremen): 54 Libellus de diversis ordinibus et professionibus qui sunt in aecclesia: 31 Old Irish Penitential: 31 Ord Prainni ocus Prainntige: 32 Ordo Cluniacensis (Bernard of Cluny): 172–94 Register of Athenry: 125 Speculum caritatis (Aelred of Rievaulx): 87 Tryggvasonar en mesta: 55 Visio Tnugdali: 280, 283 Vita Kentegerni ( Jocelin of Furness): 96 urban monastic landscape bridges: 11, 13, 219, 220, 222, 235–37, 534 cathedrals: 6, 7, 9, 11, 15, 28–29, 34, 37, 51, 56–59, 62, 75, 126, 147, 148, 156, 177, 257–76, 289, 290, 292, 306, 309–10, 314, 332–33, 336, 338–39, 346, 348, 351–52, 417, 461 city/town gates: 4, 11, 12, 14, 16, 149, 220, 238–39, 265, 267, 332–33, 335, 348–49, 352, 369 city walls: 128, 227, 230, 233–35, 334, 338, 340–41, 345, 362, 365, 367, 376 defence systems: 140, 217, 225, 334, 340–41, 364, 365, 366, 393 foreign settlers: 74, 222–25, 342–43 roads: 12, 13, 16, 265, 305, 310, 314, 341, 347–48, 351, 524, 530, 532–33, 535–36, 537 royal burghs: 13, 451–75 royal castles: 338–39, 352, 454 suburbs: 149, 217, 219, 334–35 town halls: 332, 352 town squares: 16, 310, 332, 344, 352, 534–36

553

Wales: 2, 93, 95, 103–19, 124, 145, 439 women foundations, female see nunneries patrons, female see patrons under monasticism

Medieval Monastic Studies All volumes in this series are evaluated by an Editorial Board, strictly on academic grounds, based on reports prepared by referees who have been commissioned by virtue of their specialism in the appropriate field. The Board ensures that the screening is done independently and without conflicts of interest. The definitive texts supplied by authors are also subject to review by the Board before being approved for publication. Further, the volumes are copyedited to conform to the publisher’s stylebook and to the best international academic standards in the field.

Titles in Series Women in the Medieval Monastic World, ed. by Janet Burton and Karen Stöber (2015) Kathryn E. Salzer, Vaucelles Abbey: Social, Political, and Ecclesiastical Relationships in the Borderland Region of the Cambrésis, 1131–1300 (2017) Michael Carter, The Art and Architecture of the Cistercians in Northern England, c. 1300– 1540 (2019)

In Preparation Michael Spence, The Late Medieval Cistercian Monastery of Fountains Abbey, Yorkshire: Monastic Administration, Economy, and Archival Memory