Urban Hierarchy: The Interaction between Towns and Cities in Europe in Late Medieval and Early Modern Times (Studies in European Urban History 1100-1800, 53) (English and French Edition) [Bilingual ed.] 9782503577272, 250357727X

Table of contents :
Urban Hierarchy
Maria Asenjo-González. Introduction
Anne Kucab. Rouen : pôle urbainet centre de consommation
Morwenna Coquelin. Le réseau erfurtois à la fin du Moyen Âge
Andrea Gamberini. Urban Hierarchies in the Heart of the Po Valley (12th–15th century)
David Alonso García. Rethinking Madrid during the Sixteenth Century
Francesco Senatore. About the Urbanization in the Kingdom of Naples
María Ángeles Martín Romera. Urban Networks ‘in Defence of the Realm’
Jan Vojtíšek. The Town of Kolín and its Communication Horizons in the Late Middle Ages
Arie van Steensel. Urban Hierarchies and the Institutional Fabric of Late Medieval European Towns
Óscar Ló pez Gómez. Resistance to Jurisdictional Predominance and Hierarchical Ambitions
Jana Vojtíšková. The Interaction between the Bohemian Royal Towns and their Relation to the Cities of Central Europe in 1526–1620

Citation preview

Urban Hierarchy

SEUH Studies in European Urban History (1100–1800)

Volume 53 Series Editors Marc Boone Anne-Laure Van Bruaene Ghent University

Urban Hierarchy The Interaction between Towns and Cities in Europe in Late Medieval and Early Modern Times

Edited by María Asenjo-González, Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan & Andrea Zorzi

F

Illustration de couverture : ‘Europa regina’by Sebastian Münster, Cosmographia, Basel, 1544.

© 2021, Brepols Publishers n.v., Turnhout, Belgium. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval sys-tem, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, re-cording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. D/2021/0095/168 ISBN 978-2-503-57727-2 eISBN 978-2-503-57728-9 DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.113993 ISSN 1780-3241 eISSN 2294-8368 Printed in the EU on acid-free paper.

Table of Contents

Introduction7 Urban Hierarchies in Pre-Modern Europe Maria Asenjo-González Part I Urban Networks and Central Place Rouen : pôle urbain et centre de consommation29 Anne Kucab Le réseau erfurtois à la fin du Moyen Âge Une construction politique en marge du seigneur Morwenna Coquelin

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Urban Hierarchies in the Heart of the Po Valley (12th–15th century) Persistence and Change Andrea Gamberini

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Part II Capital Cities and Political Actions Rethinking Madrid during the Sixteenth Century An Approach from Urban Hierarchies David Alonso García

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About the Urbanization in the Kingdom of Naples The Campanian Area in 15th-16th Centuries Francesco Senatore

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Urban Networks ‘in Defence of the Realm’ Castilian Cities in Valladolid’s Orbit of Influence (1504–1520) María Ángeles Martín Romera

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Part III Dynamics of Government Cooperation, Rivalry and Conflict between Cities The Town of Kolín and its Communication Horizons in the Late Middle Ages Jan Vojtíšek

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Urban Hierarchies and the Institutional Fabric of Late Medieval European Towns Arie van Steensel

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Resistance to Jurisdictional Predominance and Hierarchical Ambitions Cadahalso versus Escalona (1232–1480) Óscar López Gómez The Interaction between the Bohemian Royal Towns and their Relation to the Cities of Central Europe in 1526–1620 Jana Vojtíšková

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Maria Asenjo-González 

Introduction Urban Hierarchies in Pre-Modern Europe*

Cities are the type of human settlement that has grown and developed most in recent centuries and they have an indisputable future as a form of habitat. Five in ten people now live in a city, and this figure will jump to two in three within 35 years according to a forecast by the UN in its 2011 report. This development has long interested researchers studying the history of cities in mediaeval Europe.1 The historical circumstances that have accompanied medieval cities have facilitated the study of cities as changing systems with reciprocal relationships that stimulate or impose constraints on more extensive territorial areas. Such processes are not exclusive to cities in the Early Modern Period, as initially thought, since we now know that medieval cities exerted the same effect in the late Middle Ages as a result of their dynamism and capacity for social integration.2 Further proof of urban success is that in the 15th century, city dwellers accounted for between 7 and 8 percent of the total population, with a heavier concentration in Mediterranean Europe than in the north. Following the Black Death, new forces came into play in this scenario and stimulated urban growth so that by 1500, the urban population had reached 10% of the total.3 Distribution remained unequal, however: in the Netherlands, 34% of the population lived in cities, and the Italian peninsula also had a very high urban population ranging between 20 and 24%, although it was the central-northern region of Italy that had the highest number of large cities, some of which were home to more than 100,000 inhabitants.4





* This study was conducted as part of project ref. HAR2017–82983–P, funded by the Spanish Ministry of Economy and Competitiveness and directed by María Asenjo González and David Alonso at the Complutense University of Madrid. I would like to thank Elisabeth Crouzet–Pavan and Andrea Zorzi for their collaboration in the set-up of the main session at EAUH–Helsinki 2016 and their encouragement during the editing period. 1 Urbanisation was 25–30% higher in 2010 than in 1500 at every level of income per capita: Remi Jedwab and Dietrich Vollrath, ‘Urbanization without growth in historical perspective’, Exploration in Economic History, 58 (2015), pp. 1–21. 2 Alfredo Alvar Ezquerra, ‘Propuestas y resultados historiográficos sobre el mundo urbano europeo hacia 1500’, El Tratado de Tordesillas y su época (Madrid: Sociedad V Centenario del Tratado de Tordesillas, 1995), p. 371–80 and Marc Boone, ‘Cities in Late Medieval Europe: the Promise and the Curse of Modernity’, Urban History, 39, 2 (2012), p. 329–49. 3 Jan de Vries, La urbanización de Europa 1500–1800 (Barcelona: Crítica, 1987), p. 60. 4 Giuliano Pinto, ‘Tra demografia, economia e politica: la rete urbana italiana (XIII–inizio XVI secolo)’, Edad Media. Revista de Historia, 15 (2014), pp. 37–57.

Maria Asenjo-González • Complutense University of Madrid Urban Hierarchy: The interaction between towns and cities in Europe in Late Medieval and Early Modern Times, ed. by María Asenjo-González, Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan & Andrea Zorzi, Studies in European Urban History (1100–1800) 53 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 7-26.

© FHG

DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.124660

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Recent historiography indicates that urban history has sparked a renewed interest in several fields of research, particularly as regards late mediaeval and early modern cities.5 This period has witnessed various historiographical approaches, which have shifted from local monographic studies to more ambitious analyses spurred by the desire to gain a better understanding of cities.6 Thus, cities have been conceptualised as systems and various studies have attempted to determine their impact, processes of change and dynamics in different spheres of action. These have eschewed the rigid chronological divisions and spatial boundaries that might hinder perceptions of continuity in the study of historical urban processes.7 The period here considered extends from the 13th to the 16th century. By then a large urban network had spread throughout Europe and cities had evolved to meet different needs.8 Their increasing economic, social and political influence endowed them with a growing importance, although they still maintained their individual characteristics and responded differently to the same issues in separate countries and regions.9 As the mediaeval sources indicate, this rendered cities a subject of interest long before the bourgeois historiography of the 19th and 20th centuries turned its attention to the past with the firm intention of identifying with cities, reinforcing ideas of perpetuity and conveying their own values. The discipline of geography has also turned its attention to this subject in the last 70 years, while the historical study of late mediaeval cities has regained notable traction. Numerous studies have attempted to uncover the complex, structured, hierarchical and dynamic nature of cities.10 Others have focused on the original morphology of mediaeval cities, which developed in different and changing

5 Jan Dumolyn and Anne Laure van Bruaene, ‘Urban Historiography in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe: Introduction’, Urban history writing in Northwest Europe (15th–16th centuries), ed. by Bram Caers, Lisa Demets and Tineke van Gassen, (Turnhout: Brepols, 2019), pp. 7–26. 6 María Asenjo–González, ‘Las ciudades medievales castellanas. Balance y perspectivas de su desarrollo historiográfico (1990–2004)’, En la España Medieval, 28 (2005), pp. 415–53; Denis Menjot, ‘Les médiévistes français et la ville dans la première décennie du xxie siècle’, Cuadernos del CEMYR (Centro de Estudios Medievales y Renancentistas), 19 (2011), pp. 39–86. 7 A city’s urban system could be said to consist of its landscape and its structure, which in reciprocal relation endow each city with its characteristics (identity) and distinguish it from others. Consequently, an urban system encompasses two aspects: form (in the natural environment and framework) and function (the city’s internal processes or dynamics): J. Brian McLoughlin, Urban and Regional Planning: A Systems Approach (London: Faber and Faber, 1969); for a historical perspective, see Eliza Hartrich, Town, Crown, and Urban System: the Position of Towns in the English Polity, 1413–71 (Oxford: University of Oxford, 2014). 8 Most European cities had been established by 1400, and it was only in the east and north that new cities emerged before the industrial era: Stephan. R. Epstein, ‘Cities, Regions and the Late Medieval Crisis: Sicily and Tuscany Compared’, Past & Present, 130 (1991), pp. 141–83. 9 George Jehel and Philippe Racinet, La ville médievale. De l’Occident chrétien à l’Orient musulman, ve-xve siècle (Paris: Armand Colin, 1996). 10 Stanley D. Brunn, Jessica K. Graybill and Maureen Hays–Mitchell, Cities of the World. Regional Patterns and urban Environments (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2016); Jacqueline Caille, ‘Urban Expansion in the Region of Languedoc from the eleventh to the fourteenth century: The Examples of Narbonne and Montpellier’, in Urban and Rural Communities in Medieval France: Provence and Languedoc, 1000–1500, ed. by Kathryn L. Reyerson and John Victor Drendel (Leiden: Brill, 1998), pp. 51–72.

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ways, adapting to the demands of population growth, economic production and supply, military threats and political image.11 Over the centuries, these changes left permanent traces that are still visible today in the cities’ contours, streets and squares.12 However, cities are more than their appearance or their particular forms of government and organisation. Different urban groups developed a capacity for management and organisation that proved useful for governing their territories, and thus cities quickly adapted to the political society of feudal lords and princes. By the 14th century, cities had assumed responsibility for taxation, jurisdiction, administration and government, and wielded powers that in some cases rendered them the equivalent of manorial entities.13 Their oligarchic governments helped to construct a hierarchical and feudal political society, and in some kingdoms they participated in parliaments or other legislative assemblies, while at the same time their societies underwent increasing aristocratisation.14 In the political sphere, they evidenced marked republican tendencies and strove to inculcate the moral and civic ethics which to a greater or lesser extent were permeating all European cities.15 These affinities in historical urban development have given rise to cross-cutting interpretations of their institutional, economic and legislative history, although in general, such studies have focused more on the cities’ actions than on their urban capacities, mechanisms of power or relationships with other towns and cities. It could thus be concluded that further research is required on cities as urban systems, without preconceptions regarding their behaviour or influences and adopting a medium to long-term historical approach in order to reveal their intentional actions as well as any unintended dynamics. A hierarchical perspective is particularly useful here, since it implies focusing on urban hegemonies, which is the means by which a city might establish its ascendancy over other similarly sized or smaller cities as well as other strategies to gain power and precedence in pursuit of operational hegemony. This approach deals with the direct or indirect engagement of the cities in testing their capacity

11 Pierre Lavedan and Jeanne Hugueney, L’Urbanisme au moyen âge (Geneve: Arts et Métiers Graphiques, 1974); José María Medianero Fernández, Historia de las formas urbanas medievales (Sevilla: Universidad de Sevilla, 2004). 12 Alfredo Alvar Ezquerra, ‘Propuestas y resultados historiográficos sobre el mundo urbano europeo hacia 1500’, El Tratado de Tordesillas y su época. Congreso Internacional de Historia (1994. Setúbal, Salamanca, Tordesillas, 1994) (Madrid: Sociedad V Centenario del Tratado de Tordesillas 1995), pp. 371–80; María Asenjo–González, ‘Las ciudades medievales castellanas. Balance y perspectivas de su desarrollo historiográfico (1990–2004)’, En la España Medieval, 28 (2005), pp. 415–53; Marino Berengo, L’Europa delle città. Il volto della società urbana europea tra Medioevo ed età moderna (Torino: Einaudi, 1999). 13 Wim Blockmans, ‘Princes conquerants et bourgeois calculateurs : Le poids des reseaux urbains dans la formation des États’, La ville, la bourgeoisie et la genèse de l’etat moderne, xiie-xviiie siècle, ed. by Neithard Bulst and Jean-Philippe Genet (Paris: Editions CNRS, 1988), pp. 167–81. 14 María Asenjo–González, (ed.), Urban Elites and Aristocratic Behaviour in the Spanish Kingdoms at the end of the Middle Ages, (Brussels, Brepols, Urban History 27, 2013). 15 Oligarchy and Patronage in Spanish Late Medieval Urban Society ed. by María Asenjo–Gonzalez (Brussels: Brepols, Urban History 19, 2009).

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for development and organisation, and it proposes to shift away from linear analyses of the city towards integrated studies of how these networks functioned.16 Scholars have proposed various hypotheses in the quest to gain a better understanding of urban development. One of the best-known hypotheses is central place theory, introduced in the early 20th century, which focuses on demographic differences between multiple settlements and posits that a city requires a series of smaller towns around it to which it can distribute goods and services.17 The essential factor is stable coordination between the centre and the hinterland, which serves as the basis for analysis, although with the addition of range-size introduced by Jan de Vries. De Vries described three stages in modern pre-industrial Europe’s urbanisation process, the first of which is demographic urbanisation, associated with population migration from a rural to an urban environment. The second is structural urbanisation, in which several central places become the focal point of activities, while the third and final stage is cultural urbanisation, which entails a mental process of urbanisation – as opposed to ruralisation – on the part of society.18 This process accentuated the importance of cities and their capacity for transformation and adaptation in the early days of modernity. However, this was also true for mediaeval cities, which began to exert this kind of influence in the 13th century and continued to do so to an even greater extent in the 14th and 15th centuries. Another, contrasting approach is network theory, proposed by Hohenberg and Lees and frequently applied in English historiography, where trade and the mobility of wealth are defining features. This theory argues that cities depend more on long-distance interaction than on nearby resources; similarly, large-scale trade gains prominence since it supplies the city and reduces its dependence on production in its surrounding territory.19 Both theories share the notion 16 Espaces et Reseaux en Mediterranée, vie-xvie siècle, I. La configuration des réseaux, ed. by Damien Coulon, Chistophe Picard and Dominique Valerien (Paris: Edt. Bouchene, 2007). Laurence Buchholzer-Remy, Une ville en ses réseaux : Nurenberg à la fin Moyen Âge (París: Belín, 2006); Jean Luc Fray, Villes et bourgs de Lorraine. Réseaux urbains et centralité au Moyen Âge (Clermont-Ferrand: Presses Universitaires Blaise-Pascal, 2006); Tadeutz Lalik, ‘La genèse du réseau urbain en Pologne médiévale’, Acta Poloniae historica, 34 (1976), pp. 97–129. 17 Alfredo Alvar Ezquerra, ‘Propuestas y resultados historiográficos sobre el mundo urbano europeo hacia 1500’, pp. 371–80. 18 Jan de Vries, La urbanización de Europa, p. 60. 19 Paul M. Hohenberg and Lynn Hollen Lees, La formation de l’Europe urbaine (1000–1950) (Paris: P.U.F., 1992). In their book, Hohenberg and Lees develop a geographical theory based on geographic location and regional intensity of urbanisation to explain the relationship between urban networks in terms of the dual function of cities in Early Modern Europe’s political system, which depended on these two factors. Building on the earlier theory of central place, these American authors argue that large, multifunctional cities established a connection between a regional unit and the outside world. Urban networks were based on a metropolis that provided a link between the world economy and less important towns that were positioned in a hierarchy determined by the cost of specialised services in a defined space. Wielding the resources of trade, manufacturing production and high finance, cities were able to delay the development of national states almost until 1800. According to Blockmans’ perceptive critique in ‘Princes conquerants’, p. 172, in cases where the post-feudal national monarchies could dominate with their armies, these reduced cities to mere agents of centralisation, since the objective was to join territories in order to maximise royal power.

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that in order to elucidate the process of hierarchical organisation, cities must be analysed in terms of their broad scope for action, as urban systems. This term pleases geographers because it more closely reflects the interdependence of various cities, whose differentiated economic interactions were of sufficient magnitude to shed light on their behaviour, with changes in one socioeconomic indicator, in one of the cities, affecting all of them. This is what distinguished them from simple aggregations of towns. Thus, the study of urban systems implies an analysis of the flow of goods, services and people, the scope of this activity and the constraints of the region. The model can be extrapolated and expanded to a Europe which encompassed hundreds of regions and micro-regions that had been changing over time.20 Peter Clark nuanced this theory by suggesting that trade was one of the decisive factors in the emergence and development of urban networks, and certainly long-distance trade was very important, although its impact was selective. However, he stressed that the agrarian economy was also essential, since it influenced investment and production by the cities. Lastly, political intervention also exerted an influence, by selecting given cities to serve as capitals or centres of power.21 However, most analyses of urban behaviour have assessed economic and demographic factors, which would have operated almost regardless of the cities’ legislative, judicial, taxation and military powers, which they extended to all the territory within their jurisdictional boundaries, while simultaneously interacting with and directing economic flows. It was through such means that cities attempted to shape the mechanisms that served their interests, suggesting the additional need to assess intentionality. It has thus been argued that the hierarchical development of urban systems led to strong rural dependence or to strong interdependence between the city and the countryside, in which the former dominated because it organised the space. Cities also organised the judicial hierarchy in the region, appointing officers such as bailiffs and sheriffs, many of whom resided within the cities or beyond their territorial jurisdiction.22 Hence, analyses of hierarchical organisation present different profiles and interpretations of the latter’s consequences, which must be viewed in accordance with the different urban models that existed in Europe and did

20 According to Jan de Vries, European urban systems were restructured in the 16th century: Jan de Vries, La urbanización, p. 276. 21 Towns and Networks in Early Modern Europe, ed. by Peter Clark (Leicester: Centre for Urban History, University of Leicester, 1990). 22 A hierarchy was established in Flanders where the second courts of justice become secondary capitals of the cities. Although the system was in some respects voluntary, it was crucial for the establishment of urban hinterlands. In the 14th and 15th centuries, Flemish cities gradually expanded their control over their hinterlands while simultaneously collecting new tax revenues. The advance of urban jurisdiction was favoured by the rural middle class, who preferred this form of control to that exercised by feudal lords: Peter Stabel, ‘Urbanization and its Consequences: the Urban Region in Late Medieval Flanders’, in Regions and Landscapes: Reality and Imagination in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe, ed. by Peter F. Ainsworth and Tom Scott (Bern: Peter Lang, 2000), pp.177–03.

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not always correspond to the prototype of a predominantly bourgeois city as an island in a sea of feudalism.23 From a political perspective, a linear reading of cities as imitations of small states is inadequate, since their coercive power was limited and many were subject to higher political powers such as the lords, kings or emperors who ruled over the wider territorial area in which they were located.24 Hence, any analysis of urban history focusing on hierarchical organisation processes must be contextualised if it is to identify and assess the importance of cities and their impact not only on the surrounding region but also beyond their territorial jurisdiction, beyond the contados of Italian cities or the tierras of Castilian councils. The other aspect to assess is the impact a city had on its territory, and the creation of a suitably sized hinterland. For a full understanding of the power relations among cities and their hinterlands, however, the scope cannot remain limited to internal rank size distributions. Three further factors must also be considered: the institutional configuration during the period of initial urban growth from the 10th to the 13th centuries, the impact of monarchical powers and the region’s position in the world economy.25 Thus, any study of hierarchical organisation processes must involve history, geography and economics, just as pioneering studies of centralisation and urban networks have done since the mid-19th century. For example, in 1841 Jean Reynaud addressed the theory of central place in a study of cities that included economic and sociological analyses to determine the key factors involved in grouping, the mathematical laws governing population change and the laws of spatial equilibrium that determined the location of centres and the forms of territorial integration and management.26 Reynaud was also interested in the anisotropy (the property of a material which allows it to change or assume different properties in different directions) of some urban phenomena, which admitted mathematical analysis.27 However, it was not until the geographer Walter Christaller and the economist August Lösch made their innovative contributions in 1933 and 1941, respectively, that mathematical calculations and explanations 23 For comparative analyses that seek to go beyond economic affinities, see Villes de Flandre et d’Italie (xiiie-xvie siècle). Les enseignements d’une comparaison, ed. by Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan and Elodie Lecuppre-Desjardin (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008). For a particular focus on the contribution of power relations, see Marc Boone, ‘Les pouvoirs et leurs représentations dans les villes des anciens Pays-Bas (xive-xve siècle)’, pp. 175–206; Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, ‘Les inscriptions du pouvoir dans la ville. Le cas de l’Italie communale (xiie-xve siècle)’, pp. 207–33; Giorgio Cherubini, ‘Rapport de synthèse: Les pouvoirs dans la ville en Flandre et en Italie’, pp. 235–43. 24 Wim Blockmans, ‘Cities, Networks and Territories. North-central Italy and the Low Countries Reconsidered’, Europa e Italia. Studi in onore di Giorgio Chittolini (Firenze: Firenze University Press 2011), pp. 43–56; Peter Stabel, ‘Urbanization and its Consequences’, pp. 177–203. 25 Blockmans, ‘Cities, Networks and Territories’. 26 Marie Claire Robic, ‘A Hundred Years before Christaller… A central Place Theory’, in Espace géographique. Espaces, modes d’emploi. Two decades of l’Espace géographique, an anthology. Special issue in English, 53–61, 1993 (www.persee.fr/issue/spgeo_0046–2497_1993_hos_1_1). She argues that this analytical approach revived an interest in studying cities among the 18th century Encyclopédistes. 27 Encyclopédie Nouvelle, ou Dictionnaire philosophique, scientifique, littéraire et industriel offrant le tableau des connaissances humaines au xixe siècle, par une société de savants et de littérateurs dir. by Pierre Leroux and Jean Reynaud, Jean (Paris: Gosselion, 1836–1841), 8 vol.

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of this question first appeared, and these have subsequently flourished in contemporary urbanism.28 Geographical studies have coincided in placing an emphasis on hierarchical organisation and adopting interdisciplinary approaches to determine the behaviour of central places and develop a formalised theory based on the idea that cities were central places that provided services to their hinterlands. Thus, cities constructed their spheres of influence until creating a hinterland that reflected the extent of their impact on the surrounding territories. This perspective breathed new life into geographical studies in the first half of the 20th century, and the theories aroused particular interest among experts working for the Nazi government in Germany, inclined to apply them experimentally in the reorganisation of occupied territories.29 Such analyses stressed that the main cities acted as distribution centres, eventually creating a network among a dispersed population. In this model, Christaller distinguished between the urban hierarchy based on the supply of goods and services, and the periphery, complementary to the centre, which provided the demand. The distribution of consumers among different urban centres created a hierarchical ranking among these latter. Space and time acted as independent variables in this theory, and it was thought that the rank of ‘central place’ in the urban hierarchy corresponded to the oldest city.30 Geographers’ classical central place hierarchies are in fact self-similar systems, with successively larger settlements offering a greater variety of goods and services, thereby occupying a broader market territory. Important centres lay at the intersection of a hexagonal network, each being surrounded by a ring of towns or cities of smaller size, and so on. Different levels of central place form a nested structure that is consistent with fractal geometry.31 In fact, the reason fractals are effective in the geometry of central place theory is because geometry itself is hierarchical in nature.32

28 Christaller identified the ordered structure of places using a top-down approach, in which places are located in sites where their profits are maximised. Lösch meanwhile used a bottom-up approach, identifying the smallest unit of analysis (expressed as lattices of hexagons) in which the need to travel for any good is minimised and profits are held level. The Lösch model then scales up, overlaying the market areas for difference values of k (a constant distance) to include the highest number of places: Walter Chiristaller, Central Places in Southern Germany (New Jersey: PrenticeHall, 1966) (published in German as Die zentralen Orte in Süddeutschland, 1933); August Lösch, The Economics of Location (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1954) (first published in German as Die räumliche Ordnung der Wirtschaft, 1940). 29 Trevor J Barnes, ‘A Morality Tale of Two Location Theorists in Hitler’s Germany: Walter Christaller and August Lösch’, in Hitler’s Geographies. The Spatialities of the Third Reich, ed. by Paolo Giaccaria and Claudio Minca (Pittsburgh PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2016), pp. 198–207. 30 The notion of urban continuity was proposed by Jean-Luc Fray, Villes et bourgs de Lorraine. (2006), p. 39. Criticisms of centrality theories have been corroborated in a study by Anne Radeff, ‘Réfutation du système des lieux centraux dans le pays de Vaud (Suisse) au Moyen Âge: Montagne ( Jura, Alpes) et Plateau’, ed. by Jean Luc Fray; Pierre Cornu and Patrick Fournier in Petites villes en montagne, de l’Antiquité au XXe siècle (Clermont Ferrand : Presses Universitaires Blaise-Pascal, 2013), pp. 39–53. 31 A fractal is a topological structure that presents a similar pattern at different scales. See: Benoît B Mandelbrot, The Fractal Geometry of Nature (San Francisco: Macmillan, 1983); Michael Batty and Paul Longley, Fractal Cities: A Geometry of Form and Function (London: Academic Press, 1994). 32 Yixing Zhou Yanguang Chen, ‘Reinterpreting central place networks using ideas from fractals and self-organized criticality”, Environment and Planning B: Planning and Design, 33 (2006), pp. 345–64.

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In recent decades, research on the history of mediaeval cities has incorporated new angles for analysis in a quest to overcome the excessively specific and local approaches that had dominated the literature until the end of the last millennium. Interest in urban hierarchy can be located within this innovative trend, which provides a new approach to the study of urban behaviour, based on a concept of historical analysis that emerged in England under the influence of historical geography. The first results were obtained using British taxation documents.33 However, the study of urban hierarchy does not depend solely on an abundant collection of documents but can also draw on other empirical sources to pursue a new avenue of study aimed at determining the reciprocal relationships between cities in terms of coexistence, complementarity, opposition, support and continuous collaboration. From a research perspective, the most interesting aspect of urban hierarchies is not so much the outcome as the development of urban coexistence, since the goal is to determine the different stages of urban behaviour and the capacity of these systems to respond to different challenges and stimuli over a given period of time. Thus, the historical analysis of cities, whose reciprocal relationships are still poorly understood, enables an assessment of the urban dimensions of each particular city, relative to different development options, which spread until they coincide or coexist with the sphere of influence of other active cities. This framework does not exclude towns or small cities, because although these apparently had less power, they could be more vigorous when conditions were favourable to their productive capacities or influence.34 Over the past thirty years, historiographical research on this subject has shifted from the static quantification of the early studies to an exploration of the impact of these data on general socioeconomic development, in an open debate that locates the urban phenomenon within a complex hierarchical system. In doing so, it becomes evident that the growth of late mediaeval cities was related not only to the end of the late mediaeval crisis, but also to a political approach – promoted by the monarchies and also pursued by the city powers – which favoured the formation of a hierarchy and led to the emergence of truly regional capitals. At the same time, urban growth, population mobility and uneven economic development further accentuated the differences between regions. One of the historiographical aims of this present book is to shed light on urban integration at regional level, since the emergence of regional networks was an effect or consequence of the impact of cities, in which a distinction must be made between ‘created’ networks and ‘spontaneous’ ones.35

33 Jane Laughton, Evan Jones and Christopher C. Dyer, ‘The Urban Hierarchy in the Later Middle Ages: a Study of the East Midlands’, Urban History, 28:3 (2001), pp. 331–57. 34 María Asenjo González, ‘Grandes, moyennes et petites villes du royaume de Castille’ in Petites villes européennes au bas Moyen Âge. Perspectives de recherche, ed. by Adelaide Millán da Costa (Lisbon: Inst. Est. Medievais, 2013), pp. 9–30. http://iem.fcsh.unl.pt/ebooks/estudos11 (Last chek 3/06/2020). 35 Espaces et Reseaux en Mediterranée, pp. 8–18.

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The best described example is that of the large multifunctional cities which established a connection between a regional unit and the outside world.36 This led to the emergence of urban networks around the metropolis, which ensured ties with the world economy and included the less important satellite cities, ranking them in a hierarchy defined by the cost of the specialised services offered by each within a defined space. This both tested urban systems and demonstrated their modernity, but it should also be noted that urbanisation is not a uniform, linear process, no matter how much modernists have attempted to use demographic data to produce statistics, models and reference curves that describe the extent of the ‘urbanisation’ of cities.37 It should also be noted that the diversity of possible urban hierarchies rules out the use of any simple ranking system that attempts to measure or quantify urbanisation from a sole perspective. Subsequently, these mathematical models and their tautologies were subject to criticism, although without negating the possibility of studying urban behaviour and determining the mechanisms that led to different forms of hierarchical organisation. The new approaches paved the way for studying urban centres of different sizes in the past, without relying strictly on the economic data and references given in data series. This formed the basis for approaches located between empiricism and modelling, aimed at gaining a better knowledge of urban behaviour.38 Some studies also addressed urban hierarchies and highlighted relations with the territory to determine the importance of towns and villages, with the aim of rethinking the shape of urban networks in given regional contexts and reassessing the city-countryside relationship.39 It seemed clear that there was a need to define a city’s hinterland, using a concept that assessed the capacity for action and influence beyond physical location. This has been explored in greatest depth in relation to the urban development of early modern cities but has also been identified in the late Middle Ages and has been related to the economic potential and political power of cities and the dynamism of their societies. The areas that have received most research attention are those in which cities emerged in a feudal context that limited their capacity for action at all levels, in the late 15th century. Thus, we know that the ‘bonnes villes’ in the kingdom of France and the imperial cities of the Empire interacted with the aim of coordinating their political, military and fiscal actions.40 This paves the way 36 Peter Clark and Bernanrd Lepetit, (ed.), Capital Cities and their Hinterlands in early modern Europe, (Aldershot: Scolar press), 1996.; Stephane Curveiller, ‘Les relations d’une ville du littoral flamand et de son hinterland: Dunkerque et Bergues au Moyen Age’ in La Ville au Moyen Age, I: Ville et espace, ed. by Noël Coulet and Olivier Guyotjeannin, (Paris: Editions du CTHS, 1998), pp. 213–31. 37 Blockmans, ‘Princes conquerants’. 38 Bersagol, Jean-Luc, ‘Les villes de Haute Auvergne aux xviie et xviiie siècles: semis ou réseau urbain’ in Petites villes en montagne, de l’Antiquité au xxe siècle, ed. by Jean Luc Fray, Pierre Cornu and Patrick Fournier, (Clermont Ferrand, Presses Universitaires Blaise-Pascal, 2013), pp. 55–72, p. 60. 39 Buchholzer-Remy, Une ville en ses reseaux, has conducted an exhaustive study which opens up new perspectives in this field. 40 Of particular note was the role and function of small towns in Poland in networks offering different possibilities for action: Tadeusz Lalik, ‘La genèse du réseau urbain en Pologne médiévale’, Acta Poloniae Historica, (1976), 34, pp. 97–129 and Jacek Wiesiolowski, ‘Le réseau urbain en

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for analyses of other, non-institutionalised relations, such as collaboration and affinity or rivalry and confrontation between cities, which can also be studied within the framework of urban networks evidencing parallels and cooperation.41 Centrality and hierarchies in the urban world may appear to be related or even synonymous phenomena, but centrality is associated more with amalgamation, which suggests a premeditated goal and the capacity for action. It is generally attained through the exercise of political power and reflects both the urban possibilities of a centralising city and the capacity of monarchs, emperors or the nobility to drive a process that served their interests. Whereas hierarchical organisation was more flexible, and more closely reflected a given city’s capacity to manage a particular area of development, be it economic, political, social and religious or cultural, depending on its possibilities. However, this approach gives rise to the possibility of studying several subjects and could be a help or a hindrance. Consequently, any analysis of hierarchical organisation should take into account not only the intentional political actions that ensured its implementation, but also the more spontaneous aspect of urban dynamism, in order to assess behaviour in different contexts.42 In the study of cities, an analysis and assessment of hierarchical organisation is of unquestionable importance because it elucidates unequal urban development and the dominance of some cities over others, and this can also be extended to ancien régime societies.43 The historical circumstances that have accompanied urban processes have facilitated the study of cities as changing systems with reciprocal relationships that stimulate or impose constraints on more extensive territorial areas. The urban predominance associated with politics is evidenced by the capital cities, as analysed in studies by Alonso, Senatore and Martín Romera. However, this was not merely the result of royal will, but also required urban structural elements and political will. Another aspect of centrality was the creation of hinterlands, endowing cities with a centralising role that enabled them to extend their dominance over nearby territories and define a sphere of influence. Such behaviour was not exclusive to cities in the Early Modern Period, as initially thought, since we now know that mediaeval cities exerted the same effect in the late Middle Ages as a result of their dynamism and capacity for social integration. Besides the particular circumstances of each city, it is also worth asking whether cities were active agents in these processes, since they wielded the capacity to govern, executive powers and the means to act on various

Grande-Pologne aux xiiie-xvie siècles. L’espace et la société’, Acta Poloniae Historica, (1981), 43, pp. 5–29. In France: Jean-Pierre Leguay, Un réseau urbain au Moyen Âge: les villes du duché de Bretagne aux xive et xve siècles, (París: Maloine, 1981). 41 Buchholzer-Remy, Une ville en ses reseaux, p. 161–76. 42 María Asenjo González, ‘Introducción. La jerarquización urbana en la baja edad media. Aspectos políticos, socioeconómicos y devocionales’, Anuario de Astudios Medievales, 48/1 (2018), pp.2–22. 43 Asenjo González, ‘Introducción’, 20–22; Jane Laughton, Evan Jones and Christopher C. Dyer, ‘The Urban Hierarchy in the Later Middle Ages: A Study of the East Midlands’, Urban History, 28:3 (2001), pp. 331–57; Giuliano Pinto, ‘Tra demografia, economia e politica: La rete urbana italiana (XIII–inizio XVI secolo)’, Edad Media. Revista de Historia, 15 (2014), pp. 37–57.

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aspects of economic, social, political and cultural life. The leading role of cities is evidenced in their governments, institutions and policies, which reveal the means and agents at their disposal to achieve this goal. However, no sole city model exists to suggest that statistical analysis of individual behaviour would yield an understanding of the phenomenon. Cities vary in terms of their origin, construction and development, and therefore their analysis should be based on precise urban models.44 The papers collected in this volume provide examples of this variety, which unquestionably enriche the analysis proposed. The origin of these models is not to be found at national or kingdom level, but is instead linked to structural aspects and cultural and political traditions, as can be seen in the Flemish cities, the comune cities and the Castilian councils. Every town or city develops its own unique structure and form, providing ample food for thought for many branches of historical research. Another aspect to bear in mind is the relationship between urbanisation and economic growth, which until the end of the 20th century were thought to be connected, and in which the parameters have been inverted.45 Thus, urbanisation had been considered a sign of economic development and city size an empirical indicator of economic growth associated with per capita income. In the late 20th century, however, it was shown that even in contemporary societies urbanisation could occur without growth in developed countries, and it was also observed that the world’s mega-cities are located in poor countries.46 This argument connecting urban development with economic growth does not always explain urbanisation phenomena. Nevertheless, contemporary analyses are dominated by a focus on the determinants of economic development and population growth, without assessing the legal, political, and fiscal or clientele factors that have influenced inter-urban hierarchical relationships. The interesting thing is that each region encompassed districts with a wide range of towns that interacted to complement each other and supply their inhabitants’ needs. The degree of urban specialisation is another useful element in the study of urban hierarchies. The size of the population and data on migration or immigration require analysis, as do details of urban construction such as city walls, streets and buildings. The existence of religious buildings such as monasteries, almshouses, choirs, schools and universities, and information on the construction of housing all provide evidence of the inhabitants’ status and wealth. The political, administrative, judicial and cultural authorities brought the towns and cities into

44 Urban models help shed light on the diversity of cities, affinities, collaborations and parallels with political, institutional, legal, economic and social origins. This has already observed by institutionalists who have studied the series of charters (in Spanish, fueros), but such models have also been used by H. Pirenne and E. Ennen to explain urban origins in Europe. Recently, A. Rigaudière proposed affinities in urban models of mediaeval cities in France: Albert Rigaudiere, Gouverner la ville au Moyen Age (París: Anthropos, D.L. 1993). 45 Remi Jedwad and Dietrich Vollrath, ‘Urbanization without Growth in historical perspective’, Explorations in Economic History, 58 (2015), pp. 1–21. 46 Jedwab and Vollrath, ‘Urbanization without Growth’. These authors have analysed the relationship between urbanisation and development between 1500 and 2010.

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contact with the aristocracy. The nobility settled in cities, acquiring homes and residing there for varying lengths of time. Underlying the study of urban hierarchy is the question of capital cities, which remains of great interest. This book draws together papers on the most highly urbanised territories: Italy, France, Flanders, England, the German Empire and Castile. All ten contributions have the same goal, but their analyses are adapted to the individual characteristics of the urban systems discussed. To facilitate ease of understanding, the contributions have been grouped according to three major themes which explore the different functions of hierarchical organisation. The first of these, Urban networks and central place, looks at the action of cities with operational networks, such as Rouen, Erfurt and the cities of the Po Valley. The second, Capital cities and political actions, examines the examples of Madrid, Valladolid and the region of Campania, around Naples, while the third, Cooperation, rivalry and conflict between cities, comprises four development studies that describe highly interesting cases and models. 1. Urban networks and central place As mentioned earlier, the study of urban hierarchies requires a minimum regional framework, since it is necessary to include a sufficient number of cities and towns. A regional scope best captures the influence of the larger or medium-sized cities to which the local population travelled to buy, negotiate and socialise. It is also necessary to define the urban category of the settlement, based on the non-agricultural activities of its inhabitants. One example of this is the study of Normandy (France) by Anne Kukab, ‘Rouen: pole urbain et centre de consummation’, which shows that economic activity in the city of Rouen presided over a complex urban fabric. Rouen’s dominant position was the result not only of commercial activity but also of consumption. However, despite this economic focus, the paper also acknowledges that Rouen’s political, religious and demographic stature positioned it as a regional capital at the head of a very diverse urban network, with an area of influence of between 50 and 60 km. It was also the headquarters of a bailiwick and a viscounty. In sum, this was an attractive and well-proportioned area, in which small and medium-sized towns played an important role because the relations between places did not conform to a symmetric model. An analysis of the wine trade and the supply of construction materials such as stone and alabaster demonstrates their importance, since they gave rise to international contacts. Rouen’s network of contacts and range of economic activities that went beyond the cloth trade connected it with other French and European cities, accentuating its attractiveness. Another important urban network was the one created in the territory of the city of Erfurt, which wielded an authority and capacity equivalent to that of the imperial cities of Germany, as demonstrated in the study by Morwenna Coquelin, ‘Le réseau erfurtois à la fin du Moyen Age: une construction politique en marge du seigneur’. This contribution explores an urban network encompassing

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100 villages in a territory of more than 600 km2, over which the city of Erfurt exercised jurisdiction independently of the Bishop, who was lord of the city. From 1247, the inhabitants of various territories recognised Erfurt as the capital, and Coquelin examines perceptions of this hierarchy at different times based on an analysis of a variety of sources that shed light on this question. With a population of 18,000 residents, the city was on a similar scale to the imperial cities. Known as the city of the ninety towers, Erfurt was noted for its wealth and was held in high regard by Luther, who praised it saying that the city was the product of divine will. Coquelin explores the role of Erfurt, which was not a free city, within the political framework of the Empire, and highlights how hierarchies between cities were reflected in symbolic and ritual aspects. This relationship is evidenced in the tone of their correspondence with one another. The hierarchy is also visible as a virtual construction embodied in written or intangible discourses, an analysis of which reveals how the hierarchy was perceived by people in the Middle Ages. Socio-spatial practices and interactions can also be analysed in spatial terms to obtain social and political perceptions. Urban networks and central place is a matter of particular interest in the Duchy of Milan, in northern Italy, where a shift in the fragile balance of power led to a change in the occupants of the main posts, resulting in the loss of political independence for the cities and towns in the Duchy, as demonstrated in Andrea Gamberini’s study, ‘Urban Hierarchies in the Heart of the Po Valley (12th–15th century). Persistence and Change’. However, the urban networks and the role of the central place were constructed from different elements in Lombardy. The Italian cities maintained control of the territory of the contado, initially associated with episcopal boundaries, but soon revealed their intention to expand their domains. Such was the case of Milan from 1154, triggering resistance among the affected towns, which had already joined forces against Milan in 1128. This resistance led to the quest for a new means to assert power. For example, Cremona extended its influence through the introduction of a polycentric system based on agreements with numerous comuni (e.g. Parma, Reggio and Mantua), while Milan leveraged its jurisdictional authority, which positioned it at the apex of a system that required the collaboration of other cities to resolve inter-comune conflicts. The arrival of the signoria of the Visconti as dukes of Milan reinforced this practice, installing a centralised model of institutional management. Their intervention weakened Cremona, but the polycentric construction of this and other cities prevented the city of Milan from extracting taxes and resources from them in the manner of capitals in other republics, such as Florence and Venice. Gamberini attributes a leading role to mercantile and artisan elites in the rivalry with their counterparts in Milan, which had consequences for the dukes, whether Visconti or Sforza. Hierarchical organisation also reinforced the polycentric model in the region and its centralised political operation, at a time when manufacture and trade were gaining increasing importance. In this context, Milan furthered its political powers through the strategy of complementarity and subordination. In sum, as Gamberini makes clear, in the 14th and 15th centuries Milan emerged as an economic giant but a political dwarf.

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2. Capital cities and political actions The notion of a capital city came late to kingdoms such as Castile, but eventually replaced a polycentric situation of balanced rivalries between major towns and cities in the kingdom. The choice of Madrid as the capital in 1561 stemmed from the location of the royal court, although the reasons for Madrid’s hierarchical dominance must also be sought in the preceding period, as proposed by David Alonso García in his study ‘Rethinking Madrid during the Sixteenth Century. An approach from Urban Hierarchies’. Castile’s polycentric urban model was disrupted by Madrid’s emergence as the major city and capital of the Crown of Castile after 1561. But even before this date, Madrid had developed connections and activities that evidenced its cosmopolitan nature, changing its hierarchical position with respect to others in the kingdom, becoming an active centre capable of attracting people, resources and production, and even hosting the Cortes (1510, 1528 and 1551) and the general assembly of the clergy. Major financiers associated with the monarchy during the reign of Charles V resided in Madrid, and some of them had businesses abroad. Madrid acted as a magnet before 1561 and benefitted from the business contacts and connections that some of the new residents at court brought with them. A network of connections between people, institutions and countries thus emerged, helping the city to grow and to position itself in the kingdom’s city hierarchy. Given actors and their social relationships were essential in the creation of territorial connections, and the presence and activity of Genoese and Florentine merchants indicate that Madrid formed part of a global system of influences and information long before becoming the kingdom’s political centre. The demand for bread illustrates the network constructed in the region, as it was regularly supplied by the surrounding villages and towns. The supply of grain is studied as a strategic question in urban hierarchy rankings, since by 1540 Madrid was purchasing wheat within a radius of more than 100 km, something that historians previously thought had not been the case until 1581. Alonso García shows that Madrid relied upon this network of personal, institutional and trade contacts –such as the bread supply network– even before its political recognition as the capital in 1561. Nevertheless, the most fertile territory for investigating the construction of urban territorial networks within a broad regional framework is Italy, as evidenced by the example of Naples, discussed by Francesco Senatore in ‘About the Urbanisation in the Kingdom of Naples: the Campanian Area in 15th-16th Centuries’. In his exploration of the ‘innerland’ associated with Naples, Senatore reveals the important role played within each of the four districts by towns and small cities occupying hierarchical networks. The kingdom of Naples was apparently conditioned by the size and importance of the city of Naples, which by 1547 was home to 200,000 inhabitants. With a balanced and to some extent decentralised urban network, this region sheds light on the value and importance of the role played by towns and small cities, in a model that offered small cities a political voice, subject to Naples, and direct contact with the royal court. This network of towns helped sustain trade contacts and political collaboration in

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Campania, bolstering the primacy of Naples. In his analysis of hierarchical organisation, Senatore highlights its bottom-up construction, using a network model that offers a new perspective on this subject in relation to the influence of the kingdom’s capital. An analysis of these urban hierarchy criteria can reveal changes in leadership at regional level for some cities and the impact at other larger scales, as María Ángeles Martín Romera shows in her analysis of the creation of political networks between Castilian cities, which worked together to defend their interests: ‘Urban Networks ‘in defence of the realm’: Castilian Cities in Valladolid’s Orbit of Influence (1504–1520)’. This enabled them to maintain communication and contact independent of the channels imposed by the monarchy, a factor which played a prominent role in periods of monarchical weakness in the late 15th and early 16th centuries. Martín Romera stresses Valladolid’s important political leadership in opposition to Burgos, which was the region’s indisputable economic centre but had been politically weakened by its economic relations with the Flemish. Although brief, the period studied was a time of major change due to political instability after 1504 and the events leading up to the Revolt of the Comuneros in 1520, and interesting conclusions can be drawn as regards urban hierarchies. The city of Valladolid showed strong political leadership in defence of the monarchy, constructing an inter-urban network exhibiting sufficient effective political initiative to maintain the upper hand in the debate in turbulent times. Valladolid had not always played a leading role, but did so now thanks to the importance of its oligarchy47 and the strength of its mercantile sector, and maintained it throughout the 16th century. The city was designated the capital between 1601 and 1606.48 3. D  inamics of government. Cooperation, rivalry and conflict between cities If our goal is to understand the development of cities, we must also elucidate their inter-relationships in order to evaluate the capacity of each as an urban system. In addition, we must determine prevailing coexistences and their vigour and capacity for transformation in relation to the towns and villages in the surrounding territory. Thus, collaboration and conflict between cities also form a subject of study in the field of urban hierarchy. These avenues for research pave the way for an analysis of urban hierarchies within a new framework of action, based on newly drawn networks that penetrated and influenced other urban networks beyond the regional framework. Similarly, communications and interconnections are of interest in this field, and the research by Jan Vojtisek,

47 María Ángeles Martin Romera, Redes de poder. Las relaciones sociales de la oligarquía de Valladolid a finales de la Edad Media (Madrid: CSIC, 2019). 48 María Asenjo González, ‘Sobre la incipient capitalitat de Valladolid’ Afers: fulls de recerca i pensament, 30/80–81 (2015), pp. 113–32.

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‘The Town of Kolín and its Communication Horizons in the Late Middle Ages’ is relevant here because it focuses on a town with a notable capacity for action, located in a mining region within which it acquired a leading role. Little is known about communication between cities in the late Middle Ages and the beginning of the Early Modern Period. Vojtisek’s study is based on the expenses paid to municipal messengers sent from one town to another, although unfortunately only a small fraction of this correspondence has been preserved. Kolín nad Labem emerged in 1261 on the road between Prague and Moravia, and achieved local importance thanks to its rivalry with another town in the region, Časlav, as indicated by arbitration proceedings in 1289. Together with Kutná Hora, the three towns formed a German triangle in Bohemia. Časlav and Kolín vied for control of the mines, as evidenced by an arbitration document of 1289, but neither emerged victorious because the third town, Kutná Hora, witnessed rapid growth. The Hussite Wars were the cause of the town’s decline, in 1421. Vojtisek’s analysis encompasses the trade relations of foreign merchants in Kolín nad Labem, providing evidence that the town participated in such commerce. Based on several written sources, he traces Kolín nad Labem’s communications with other towns of varying importance and size. These testimonies illustrate the role that Kolín nad Labem played as a medium-sized urban centre which gradually gained in importance in Bohemia over the course of the 14th century. It is interesting to note that the town created communication networks through which it exerted an influence on other medium-sized towns. A study of Kolín nad Labem’s international trade activities also reveals specialisation in the salted fish trade and predominant contacts with German towns on the northern route towards the Baltic sea. These documents show that in political and economic matters alike, the town of Kolín nad Labem maintained similar contacts within a radius of about 55 km, creating a communication network by means of sending letters written in Latin and German. The town’s position as the centre of local communication and administration is also confirmed by the fact that the privileges and charters of nearby villages were stored in Kolín nad Labem’s municipal chancellery. Structural affinities are also highlighted in Arie van Steensel’s contribution, ‘Urban Hierarchies and the Institutional Fabric of Late-Mediaeval European Towns’. With the goal of modelling in order to identify similarities, van Steensel conducts a comparative analysis of English and Flemish cities.49 Moving away from the parameters of economic analyses focused on production and trade, which have prevailed in studies of urban hierarchies, van Steensel analyses hierarchical organisation based on the number of guilds and their activities in the suitably paired Flemish and English cities of Ghent and London, Leiden and Norwich. Van Steensel gives the number of guilds and their level of specialisation for each city and highlights the connections that existed between guilds, which accepted

49 For a comparison of Flemish and English cities, see Patric Lantschner, The Logic of Political Conflict in Medieval Cities (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015).

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members of varying status and backgrounds. The weavers’ guilds in Ghent were involved in politics in the city, whereas in London they were unable to elect representatives to government bodies. By the late 13th century, however, they were involved in administration and government. The large guilds unquestionably wielded considerable influence in the Middle Ages. Merchants and traders dominated the governments of Norwich, London and Leiden, although the guilds’ direct influence in small towns was very limited. Castilian cities provide an illustration of coexistence or rivalry between towns and cities that evidenced different behaviour in their relations with the Crown. In ‘Resistance to Jurisdictional Predominance and Hierarchical Ambitions: Cadalso versus Escalona (1232–1480)’, Óscar López Gómez observes that a certain form of hierarchy operated among the kingdom’s cities, but no control was applied. A hierarchy of honour was established between cities such as Burgos and Toledo, but without any ramifications in other aspects. López Gómez describes conflicts and rupture within the council of Escalona. Recall that Castilian cities resembled the Italian comuni in that they exerted jurisdiction over smaller towns in the surrounding territory, variously termed tierra [land], territorio [territory] and alfoz [roughly, a municipality].50 These cities or towns, which were called councils, had an urban network and a territory over which they exercised judicial, regulatory, fiscal and military control. This territorial allocation hinders identification of the councils’ hinterlands as it is not easy to distinguish their economic and social influence from that arising from the dominion they exerted. The hinterland may have coincided with the ‘territorial dominion’, which would obscure the dynamics of urban influence.51 The impact of urban hierarchical organisation is often concealed behind the dominion of territories, towns and villages. Consequently, the construction of hinterlands is best illustrated by Castilian cities that exerted jurisdiction over small territories, such as Madrid.52 Resistance to dominion by the central place also occurred within the councils, as evidenced by the response of Cadalso, a small town, to the council of Escalona. Cadalso’s resistance led to conflict around 1220–1230, with episodes of defiance that were subsequently subdued through intervention by King Ferdinand III. Nevertheless, Cadalso’s insubordination continued in the form of a refusal in 1276 to sell its timber at the weekly market in Escalona. López Gómez interprets

50 María Asenjo González, ‘Hiérarchisation sociale et organisation de l’espace. La ville de Ségovie et son finage’, Mélanges de la Casa de Velázquez, 23 (1987), pp. 201–12; Regina Polo Martín, ‘Términos, tierras y alfoces en los municipios castellanos de fines de la Edad Media’, Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español LXXII, I (2002), pp. 201–04. 51 María Asenjo-González, David Alonso Garcia and Sean Perrone, ‘Town and Country: Connecting Late Medieval Castilian Urban Experience with Sixteenth-Century Colonization of the Americas’, Bulletin for Spanish and Portuguese Historical Studies, 44, 1 (2019), pp. 7–32. 52 María Asenjo González, ‘Las relaciones campo-ciudad. Aspectos de dominio, concurrencia y colaboración en los reinos hispánicos medievales’ in Campo y ciudad. Mundos en tensión. Siglos XII-XV, XLIV Semana Internacional de Estudios Medievales. Estella-Lizarra 2017 (Estella: Gobierno de Navarra, 2018), pp. 11–38.

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this resistance as a bid for honour which was maintained until 1634, when the town finally achieved jurisdictional independence from Escalona. Such defiance resurfaced at various times throughout the 14th and 15th centuries, spurred by political crises and periods of noble dominion over Escalona. As a result, for short periods of time Cadalso occasionally held the symbols of jurisdiction, for example during the War of the Castilian Succession (1475–1480). In reaction, Escalona persuaded Queen Isabella to intervene in 1479, and return Cadalso to the former’s jurisdiction. Although this analysis stresses the importance of honour in this rivalry and Cadalso’s bid for independence, economic factors also played a role. Economic specialisation in the council’s territory, viewed as a unit of exploitation, weighed heavily in political decisions. Agricultural activity was carried out in the area immediately surrounding Escalona, but the pastures and timber were located in the most northerly zone, where Cadalso lay. This division would have worked under the agreement on complementarity until 1230, when the central town’s claim encountered resistance in Cadalso, which no longer benefitted from trade conditions decided and managed by the jurisdictional powers in Escalona.53 Subsequently, the hierarchical organisation derived from jurisdictional hegemony met with resistance in Castile, and López Gómez asserts that defying the regional capital came to be accepted, as documented in the case of Escalona.54 However, such dissent became more evident after 1500, when many towns were able to purchase and obtain jurisdiction over minor offences, up to 500 maravedies.55 Arguments for hierarchy had no legal value when brandished in rivalries between cities, but were nevertheless taken into account when Cadalso sought independence from Escalona and the right to manage its own territory. Other pacts, rebellions and negotiations also occurred in these centuries, indicating the collective stance underlying the different attitudes. In ‘The Interaction between the Bohemian Towns and the Cities of Central Europe in 1526–1620’, Jana Vojtíšková explores the key aspects of hierarchical organisation associated with the revolt of Bohemian towns against the Habsburgs in 1547, which had dire consequences for the towns involved. Their taxes were increased, their lands confiscated and their privileges revoked, and they became subject to supervision by royal officials. Furthermore, the forty-three towns could only attend the Diet at the sovereign’s discretion. Towns subject to lords capitalised on this situation to launch new areas of production. However, Prague maintained

53 The territorial reform of Javier de Burgos in 1833 – which has remained virtually unchanged at provincial level until today – joined Cadalso and Cenicientos to the province of Madrid and Escalona to the province of Toledo: Juan Gómez Díaz, ‘División territorial de España. Provincias y partidos judiciales. 175 años’, Toletum: boletín de la Real Academia de Bellas Artes y Ciencias Históricas de Toledo, 55 (2008) pp. 151–75. 54 María Rosa Ayerbe Iribar, ‘Andoaín, de tierra a villazgo (1379): un caso modélico de preautonomía municipal en Guipuzcoa’, Leyçaur. Revista de estudios históricos de Andoain, 0 (1996), pp. 1–896. 55 Susana Truchuelo García, ‘Villas y aldeas en el Antiguo Régimen: Conflicto y consenso en el marco local castellano’, Mundo Agrario: Revista de estudios rurales, 14, 27 (2013), p. 3, https://www. mundoagrario.unlp.edu.ar/ (Last chek 13/04/2021).

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its leadership position thanks to its strategic location at a crossroads and to its relationships with other cities in nearby territories and countries. Vojtíšková notes that the situation deteriorated during the Anti-Habsburg Revolt from 1618–20, which reduced the towns’ regional influence and from which only the city of Prague recovered quickly. Furthermore, political representation of Bohemian towns in the Diet was reduced to a single vote, with a value equivalent to that of a politician or a knight. Later, in the 16th century, traditional political collaboration among Bohemian cities broke down and a new model emerged that led to isolation since it only admitted economic and cultural relationships. Neither was there any contact between towns and the government of the Habsburg monarchy. Consequently, the political behaviour of Prague could shed light on urban responses to new challenges. Conclusions The present volume furthers our knowledge of the behaviour of cities, viewed as systems capable of acting to achieve various goals. The novelty of the contributions is that their analyses of urban hierarchies with particular affinities are based on solid empirical foundations and employ innovative methodologies applied to a range of territories and countries. This enriches our knowledge of cities and towns by modelling and highlighting their role over the course of history. The goal of grouping the contributions according to three major themes is to create affinities and synergies between studies on specific subjects which in conjunction illustrate the forms of hierarchical organisation yielded by a variety of similarities and differences. The quest for precise, replicable models for application in the field of history has proved difficult, but nevertheless we have attempted here to assess different urban networks in order to identify and nuance the resources employed for hierarchical organisation and the reception of these channels for connection, in complex and changing urban networks. Unquestionably, further aspects of hierarchical organisation remain to be explored, such as the dissemination of art and artistic tastes in buildings, fashions and consumer products, conditioned by an urban presence. It may be that an analysis of these and other questions would reveal further factors involved in the changes in leadership in some cities and their impact at other, larger scales, However, if our goal is to understand the development of cities, it is the study of urban hierarchies that best reveals their reciprocal relationships, their parallels, their dynamism and their capacity for transformation, as regards both their rivalries and their alliances with the towns and villages in their territories and beyond. The advantage of studying urban life in the historical period proposed is that the documents available provide more extensive information on cities than those from previous centuries. The spatial projection of such information from urban centres to a territory in which towns and cities were connected through networks provides not a static but a dynamic vision of immediate relationships and connections and those maintained with more distant areas. Identifying these

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interdependencies will unveil a new dimension of ‘urban life’, because what can ultimately be assessed is the maturity of the system, which from the 13th century onwards proved itself capable of resisting the changes and challenges lying in wait and of developing enormous versatility. As Arie van Steensel say: ‘In sum, the connections between cities and towns in the late Middle Ages – whether conceived as forming an urban network or region – were varied, fluid and complex to a greater or lesser degree, and urban historians of pre-modern Europe have shown more interest in the dynamics of hierarchies within urban networks or regions than in their geometric configurations’. Lastly, we are convinced of the growing importance of urban history addressed from a broad perspective. We believe that these new approaches to the history of European cities may transcend the boundaries of academic history and interest professionals and scholars in other fields who wish to know more about the behaviour of contemporary cities and urban societies.

Anne Kucab 

Rouen : pôle urbain et centre de consommation La ville de Rouen, en Normandie, est sûrement, à la fin du xve siècle, la deuxième ville du royaume de France en termes de démographie et d’économie. Ce dynamisme s’explique, entre autres, par sa situation qui en fait une interface privilégiée entre les ports normands, les campagnes de son arrière-pays et Paris, première ville du royaume. Dès le Moyen Âge, Rouen est perçue comme une ville majeure. Cette perception médiévale de l’importance de la ville est confirmée par les historiens qui mettent en avant sa fonction de place commerciale. Son rôle de capitale régionale a été étudié depuis plusieurs années, notamment par Michel Mollat,1 et son influence sur les « petites villes » voisines a fait l’objet d’une thèse par Bruno Sintic.2 Plus récemment, Mathieu Arnoux3 a écrit un article consacré aux liens entre les campagnes et les réseaux urbains qui montre l’importance de Caen, laquelle, dans certains domaines, en vient même à faire concurrence à Rouen, pourtant capitale régionale.4 Ces recherches participent d’un intérêt récent pour les villes normandes,5 qui permet de compléter les nombreuses monographies publiées depuis le xixe siècle.6 Nous avons voulu,



1 M. Mollat du Jourdin, Le commerce maritime normand à la fin du Moyen Âge : étude d’histoire économique et sociale, Paris, Plon, 1952. 2 B. Sintic, Petites villes de Normandie : Pont-Audemer, Harfleur, Louviers, Neufchâtel, villes secondaires de la région de Rouen, 1450–1550, Pôle universitaire normand, 2011. 3 M. Arnoux, « An Urban Network in its Landscape. The Dynamics and Functions of the Norman Towns, Fourteenth to Fifteenth Centuries », Jahrbuch für Geschichte des ländlichen Raumes, 2009, vol. 6, p. 78-90. 4 « But there is no doubt about the preeminence of Rouen, which was the metropolitan see of the province, the second city of the kingdom after Paris both in terms of population and wealth, and one of the most important economic centres [sic] in North Western Europe. », Ibid., p. 81. 5 P. Bouet et Fr. Neveux (éd.), Les villes normandes au Moyen Âge : renaissance, essor, crise, Caen, Presses universitaires de Caen, 2006 ; B. Gauthiez, La Logique de l’espace urbain, formation et évolution : le cas de Rouen, Thèse de doctorat sous la direction de J.-P. Bardet, EHESS, Paris, 1991 ; Fr. Neveux, « Villages et villes de Normandie à la fin du Moyen Âge : le cas des villages entre Caen, Bayeux et Falaise », Actes de la Société des historiens médiévistes de l’enseignement supérieur public, villages et villageois au Moyen Âge, 1990, vol. 21, no 1, p. 149-160 ; Fr. Neveux, « Les agglomérations castrales en Normandie (xie-xve siècles) », in A. Chédeville, D. Pichot (éd.) Des villes à l’ombre des châteaux. Naissance et essor des agglomérations castrales en France, Rennes, Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2010, p. 141-152. Certaines études se sont également intéressées à l’Époque Moderne et aux évolutions des villes : J.-P. Bardet, Rouen aux xviie et xviiie siècles : les mutations d’un espace social, Paris, Société d’édition d’enseignement supérieur, 1983 ; J. Chennebenoist, G. Désert, A. Leménorel et P. Chaunu, Villes et sociétés urbaines : Basse-Normandie, xvie-xxe siècles, Caen, Annales de Normandie, 1985. 6 De nombreuses monographies urbaines ont ainsi été constituées, citons notamment : A. Cheruel, Histoire de Rouen pendant l’époque communale, 1150–1382, suivie de pièces justificatives publiées pour la

Anne Kucab • Sorbonne université –Faculté de lettres- UMR 8596-Centre Roland Mousnier Urban Hierarchy: The interaction between towns and cities in Europe in Late Medieval and Early Modern Times, ed. by María Asenjo-González, Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan & Andrea Zorzi, Studies in European Urban History (1100–1800) 53 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 29-47.

© FHG

DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.124661

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à la lumière des études récentes, nous interroger sur l’importance de Rouen dans le réseau urbain normand en analysant les sources rouennaises. En effet, les sources utilisées pour cette étude – comptes de l’archevêque de Rouen, comptes des fabriques paroissiales et registre de tabellionage – autorisent une approche géographique fine, elles permettent également de voir si la position centrale de Rouen se traduit dans les consommations. Afin de mieux définir les habitudes de consommation des Rouennais, il faut en premier lieu s’intéresser à la place exceptionnelle qu’occupe Rouen au sein de la hiérarchie urbaine normande, mais cette prépondérance n’est rendue possible que par l’existence d’une aire d’attraction sur les campagnes et les petites villes alentours confortant ainsi sa place de capitale régionale. Dans une approche complémentaire, nous soulignerons le rôle des consommations et de la production comme « baromètre » pour estimer l’importance de la ville. Quelle était la population de Rouen à la fin du xve siècle ? Les estimations varient faute de sources fiscales conservées pour la période concernée. En 1952, Michel Mollat estimait que Rouen aurait eu une population de 15 000 habitants à la fin de l’occupation anglaise, en 1449, et que la ville aurait atteint 40 000 habitants en 1500.7 Ces valeurs furent calculées à partir de la superficie emmuraillée de la ville,8 et l’hypothèse d’une densité de 50 feux par hectare, à partir de laquelle une moyenne arbitraire de 4 habitants par foyer a été déterminée. Par ailleurs, Guy Bois9 et Michel Mollat ont proposé dans leurs travaux une évolution démographique et économique de la Normandie en déterminant des périodes de croissance et de décroissance. Ils avancent ainsi que le dernier tiers du xve siècle est, en Normandie, une période de croissance qui permet de rattraper, puis de dépasser le niveau démographique du début du xive siècle, avant les vicissitudes de la peste et de la Guerre de Cent Ans. En effet, la population rouennaise au xiiie siècle est estimée entre 30 et 40 000 habitants,10 cette estimation étant



7



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10

première fois d’après les archives départementales et municipales de cette ville, Rouen, N. Périaux, 1843 ; id., Histoire de Rouen sous la domination anglaise au quinzième siècle : suivie de pièces justificatives publiées pour la première fois d’après les manuscrits des Archives municipales de Rouen, Rouen, E. Le Grand, 1840 ; E. Chevallier, Petite Histoire chronologique de Dieppe, Rouen, Impr. de E. Cagniard, 1886 ; Fr. Neveux, Bayeux et Lisieux : villes épiscopales de Normandie à la fin du Moyen âge, Caen, Éd. du Lys, 1996 ; G. Désert (éd.), Histoire de Caen, Toulouse, Privat, 1981 ; G. Mancel et C.-F. Woinez, Histoire de la ville de Caen et de ses progrès, Caen, Clérisse, 1836 ; M. Mollat du Jourdin (éd.), Histoire de Rouen, Toulouse, Privat, 1979. M. Mollat du Jourdin, Le commerce maritime normand à la fin du Moyen Âge , op. cit., p. 529. Le chiffre de 40 000 habitants pour la fin du xve siècle, fondé sur l’hypothèse que Rouen retrouve sa démographie d’avant la peste noire et la guerre de Cent Ans est repris dans de nombreux ouvrages. Les lignes qui suivent tendent à montrer combien cette estimation est difficile à étayer. Que l’on estime à 170 hectares. G. Bois, Crise du féodalisme : économie rurale et démographie en Normandie orientale du début du xive siècle au milieu du xvie siècle, Paris, Presses de la Fondation nationale des sciences politiques : Éd. de l’École des hautes études en sciences sociales, 1976. Philippe Cailleux mentionne ces estimations dans son ouvrage tout insistant sur la difficulté de les étayer à cause de la grande flexibilité que recouvre le terme de « feu », selon lui une approche en terme de tènement serait plus pertinente. Ph. Cailleux, Trois paroisses de Rouen, xiiie-xve siècle: Saint-Lô, Notre-Dame-la-Ronde et Saint-Herbland, Caen, Pôle universitaire normand, 2011. Je tiens à remercier Philippe Cailleux pour sa relecture et ses remarques constructives notamment sur

rouen  : p ôle ur b ai n et centre de consommation

obtenue d’après le « pouillé » de l’évêque Eudes Rigaud, selon lequel Rouen comporte 7639 pariochani.11 Il est vraisemblable que ce nombre ait été dépassé à la fin du xve siècle ou au début du xvie siècle. La levée de l’aide de 1421, publiée et étudiée par Michel Nortier,12 et dont Philippe Cailleux a proposé un tableau synthétique pour les paroisses rouennaises,13 permet de compter 1574 feux et 787 « non-payant »14, soit au minimum entre 7083 et 8657 habitants à Rouen à cette date.15 La population de Rouen aurait donc plus ou moins doublé entre 1421 et 1449, puis elle aurait à nouveau augmenté de 50 à 60 % entre 1449 et le début du xvie siècle.16 Même si son ampleur est difficile à déterminer précisément, cette croissance démographique est fortement perceptible dans les sources. Dès 1450, Charles VII accorde aux habitants du « second enclos de Rouen » les mêmes privilèges que les citadins du premier enclos, en promulguant à cet effet une ordonnance royale qui souligne l’augmentation de la population rouennaise : Les Bourgois, manans et habitans de nostre ville et cité de Rouen qui est la mère et métropolitaine de nostre païs et Duchié de Normandie, ait par nos progéniteurs et prédécesseurs esté dotée et munie de plusieurs privilèges […] dont iceulx bourgeois, manans et habitans qui font et ont esté demourans dedens l’ancienne cloëson de nostredicte ville, ont joui et usé de tel temps qu’il n’est mémoire du contraire ; et pour ce que depuis les concessions et octrois desdiz privilèges et libertés ou d’auncuns d’iceulx, icelle nostre cité de Rouen a esté dilatée, acreue et augmentée et est de plus grant encloz, espace la difficulté d’établir une estimation de la population. F. Lot, « L’état des paroisses et des feux de 1328 », Bibliothèque de l’école des chartes, 1929, vol. 90, no 1, p. 51-107 ; id., « L’état des paroisses et des feux de 1328 (suite et fin) », Bibliothèque de l’école des chartes, 1929, vol. 90, no 1, p. 256-315, F. Lot précise ainsi p. 300 : « Les « Bonnes villes » du Moyen Âge les plus célèbres sont des bourgades de 8 à 15 000 habitants sauf Rouen, qui eut peut-être 40 000 âmes (?). » ; G. Bois, Crise du féodalisme, op. cit. Voir aussi B. Sintic, Petites villes de Normandie, op. cit., p. 50. 11 Un pariochanus est un chef de famille, du point de vue démographique, cela équivaut à un feu. Le manuscrit (BnF, ms. lat. 11052) est à présent disponible en ligne : http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/ btv1b10721356f/f13.image (consulté le 20 février 2017). 12 M. Nortier, « Contribution à l’étude de la population de la Normandie au bas Moyen Âge (xivexvie siècles). Inventaires des rôles de fouage et d’aide. Deuxième série : rôles de l’aide de 1421 », Répertoire périodique de documentation normande, 1971, vol. 10, p. 1-79. 13 Ph. Cailleux, Trois paroisses de Rouen, xiiie-xve siècle, op. cit., p. 477-478. 14 Nous regroupons sous le terme « non-payant », l’ensemble des personnes comptées à part dans les fouages qu’elles bénéficient d’exemption, qu’elles soient pauvres, anglaises, acquittées par un parent ou dépendant d’une circonscription ecclésiastique. 15 Il s’agit d’une estimation basse, en effet, seules 22 paroisses sont relevées alors que Rouen en compte plus d’une trentaine intra-muros et 40 si l’on élargit aux paroisses des faubourgs (Saint-Sever, SaintHilaire). Par ailleurs, la fourchette d’estimation est fondée sur la multiplication du nombre de feux par 4 (d’après Michel Mollat) et par 5 (méthode proposée par Guy Bois), ce qui la rend hautement contestable. Nous considérons toutefois que cela donne un minimum de population pour le début du xve siècle. Voir aussi B. Sintic, Petites villes de Normandie, op. cit., p. 35. B. Gauthiez détaille la démographie rouennaise avant le xve siècle dans son article : B. Gauthiez, « The urban development of Rouen, 989–1345. », in L. V. Hicks et E. Brenner (éd.), Society and culture in medieval Rouen, 911–1300, Turnhout, Brepols, 2013, p. 17-64, voire notamment p. 55-58. 16 L.-R. Delsalle reprend cette évolution et propose lui aussi le nombre de 40 000 habitants. L.-R. Delsalle, Rouen et les Rouennais au temps de Jeanne d’Arc : 1400–1470, Rouen, Éd. PTC, 2006, p. 19–22 : « Combien de Rouennais ? ».

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et circuite qu’elle n’estois anciennement ; et que entre l’ancienne cloëson et celle qui depuis y a esté faicte, a et réside grant partie des Bourgois, manans et habitans d’icelle nostre ville et cité.17 Cette ordonnance royale indique donc que le roi considère Rouen comme la capitale régionale de la Normandie ainsi que le montre l’usage des termes « mère » et « métropolitaine ».18 Cette prépondérance de Rouen est également perçue par les étrangers. En effet, en 1494– 1495, le médecin allemand Jérôme Münzer (ou Hieronymus Monetarius) effectue un voyage à travers la France dont il consigne les étapes dans un récit. Après un séjour à Paris, ce dernier se rend en Normandie où il visite les villes de Rouen, Dieppe et Eu. À propos de la ville de Rouen, il insiste sur son rôle de capitale, son économie et sa population : « Rouen est une ville renommée pour sa beauté ; capitale de la Normandie […] La ville compte de très riches marchands, et est beaucoup plus grande que Nuremberg, avec une population considérable ».19 Le poids démographique de Rouen assoit d’autant plus son influence régionale que les autres villes normandes sont faiblement peuplées. À la fin du xve siècle, la ville de Caen a une population estimée entre 5000 et 8000 habitants ;20 elle est de surcroît le deuxième pôle politique de la Normandie puisqu’elle possède notamment une université. Bruno Sintic, dans sa thèse sur les petites villes de Normandie, s’interroge sur les critères qui permettent de les définir. Pour la Haute-Normandie, il atteint un corpus de vingt-quatre petites villes dont la population est comprise entre 1000 et 5000 habitants.21 Les rôles de fouages existant pour cette période permettent de souligner à nouveau l’écart entre Rouen et les petites villes. En 1421, 171 feux22 sont recensés à Caudebec et 150 à 17 Ordonnances des rois de France de la troisième race, recueillies par ordre chronologique. Quatorzième volume, éd. M. de Bréquigny, Paris, Imprimerie royale, 1790, p. 131. Nous soulignons. 18 Selon le DMF, le terme métropolitain s’emploie pour désigner « [un lieu] qui est une métropole, qui est le plus important. ». DMF : http://www.atilf.fr/dmf/, entrée « métropolitaine », consulté le 20 février 2017. 19 J. Münzer, Voyage à travers la France (1494/95), éd. A. Berthelot, Greifswald, Reineke-Verlag, 1996, p. 82- 83. 20 J.-M. Laurence, « La population de Caen, xie-xve siècles », Annales de Normandie, 1999, vol. 49, no 2, p. 115-142. 21 B. Sintic, Petites villes de Normandie, op. cit., chap. 2 : Définir la ville, p. 31-50. Bruno Sintic a toutefois retiré de son étude les plus grosses villes telles que Dieppe. Il ne prend pas en compte les villes de Basse-Normandie. Il précise néanmoins qu’une quarantaine de villes gravitent autour de Rouen. Les rôles de fouages sont indiqués au p. 36–37. C’est en partie sur son étude que nous nous appuierons dans la suite de notre article pour mieux comprendre l’organisation de l’aire d’influence de Rouen. 22 Toutes les données chiffrées qui suivent sont issues de : M. Nortier, « Contribution à l’étude de la population de la Normandie au bas Moyen Âge (xive-xvie siècles). Inventaires des rôles de fouage et d’aide. Première série : rôles de fouages paroissiaux de 1368 à 1419 », Répertoire périodique de documentation normande, 1970, vol. 9, p. 92 sqq. ; id. « Contribution à l’étude de la population de la Normandie au bas Moyen Âge (xive-xvie siècles). Inventaires des rôles de fouage et d’aide. Deuxième série », op. cit ; id., « Contribution à l’étude de la population de la Normandie au bas Moyen Âge (xive-xvie siècles). Inventaires des rôles de fouage et d’aide. Troisième série : rôles de fouages paroissiaux de 1422 à 1458 », Répertoire périodique de documentation normande, 1973, vol. 11, p. 153 sqq. ; id. « Contribution à l’étude de la population de la Normandie au bas Moyen Âge (xivexvie siècles). Inventaires des rôles de fouage et d’aide. Quatrième série : rôles de fouages paroissiaux

rouen  : p ôle ur b ai n et centre de consommation

Lillebonne alors que la paroisse Saint-Maclou de Rouen compte 321 feux et la paroisse Saint-Nicaise 166. Les faubourgs de Rouen (hors la ville) connaissent eux aussi une importante croissance démographique : Saint-Sever passe de 102 feux en 1413 à 354 feux en 149723 et Saint-Gervais, passe de 123 feux en 1455 à 325 feux en 1497.24 L’évolution d’une seule paroisse intra-muros nous est connue pour le xve siècle: il s’agit de Saint-Nicaise, qui passe de 125 feux en 1421 à 536 feux en 1437.25 De fait, depuis la fin du xe siècle, la ville de Rouen n’a cessé de s’étendre26, comme le montrent les fouilles archéologiques qui permettent parfois de saisir cette expansion urbaine.27 Une autre preuve de cette croissance quasi-continue est la construction, au milieu du xive siècle, d’une seconde enceinte.28 Celle-ci s’étend principalement au nord-est et prend en compte l’urbanisation de plus en plus importante qui se fait autour du Robec. Cependant, la démographie n’est pas le seul facteur qui explique le rôle central de Rouen. La ville est en effet un centre politique et religieux majeur qui polarise depuis longtemps une aire d’influence importante. En effet, Rouen est le siège d’un bailliage et d’une vicomté. Elle possède par ailleurs une cour de justice : l’Échiquier qui, d’abord itinérant, se fixe peu à peu à Rouen. Cette sédentarisation progressive de l’Échiquier est entérinée en 1499 par une ordonnance de Louis XII et, en 1515, François Ier transforme cette institution en parlement de Normandie,29 donnant ainsi à la ville de Rouen une prépondérance sur les autres villes normandes. Cette aire d’influence de Rouen est ancienne, ce qui est sûrement un facteur explicatif de l’importance constante de la ville dans le réseau urbain normand. Jacques Le Maho et Fanny Madeline ont montré que les ducs de Normandie avaient renforcé le poids de Rouen, par ailleurs ville ducale, en faisant construire autour de la ville des « châteaux ».30 Rouen est aussi une ville archiépiscopale qui polarise la vie religieuse normande. Marie Casset31 a ainsi

23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

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de 1461 à 1498 », Répertoire périodique de documentation normande, 1976, vol. 12, p. 271 sqq. ; id., « Contribution à l’étude de la population de la Normandie au bas Moyen Âge (xive-xvie siècles). Inventaires des rôles de fouage et d’aide. Cinquième série : Rôles de fouages paroissiaux de 1500 à 1515 », Répertoire périodique de documentation normande, 1981, vol. 13 ; Paroisse Saint-Sever : 102 feux, 32 non-payants en 1413 et 354 feux, 19 non-payants en 1497. BNF, ms. fr. 25905 (687) et 25924 (1119), Les données pour Saint-Sever et Saint-Gervais sont citées par G. Bois sans toutefois correspondre aux chiffres de M. Nortier, voir. G. Bois, Crise du féodalisme, op. cit., p. 61. Paroisse Saint Gervais, 123 feux, 57 non-payants en 1455 et 325 feux, 65 non-payants en 1497. BNF ms.fr. 25912 (1349) et 25924 (1151), Ibid. Paroisse Saint-Nicaise : 125 feux, 133 non-payants en 1421 et 536 feux, 105 non-payants en 1437. B. Gauthiez, « The urban development of Rouen, 989–1345. », op. cit. B. Guillot, P. Calderoni et B. Le Cain, « L’urbanisation d’un espace au sud-ouest de Rouen au bas Moyen Âge », in P. Bouet et Fr. Neveux (éd.), Les Villes normandes au Moyen Âge, op. cit., p. 195-206. Il s’agit du « second enclos » dont parle l’ordonnance royale, précitée. A. Floquet, Essai historique sur l’Échiquier de Normandie, Rouen, E. Frère, 1840. J. Le Maho, « Aux origines du “Grand-Rouen” : la périphérie de la capitale normande au temps des ducs (xe-xiie siècle) », in P. Bouet et Fr. Neveux (éd.), Les Villes normandes au Moyen Âge, op. cit., p. 177-194 ; F. Madeline, « Rouen and its Place in the Building Policy of the Angevin Kings », in L. V. Hicks et E. Brenner (éd.) Society and culture in medieval Rouen 911–1300, op. cit., p. 65-100 et notamment la carte p. 67. M. Casset, « Les stratégies d’implantation des châteaux et des manoirs des évêques normands au Moyen Âge (xie-xve siècles) », in A.-M. Flambard-Héricher (éd.), Les lieux de pouvoir au Moyen

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souligné combien les archevêques de Rouen quadrillaient l’espace normand : ils sont en effet, les ecclésiastiques normands à avoir le plus de résidences et les plus éloignées de la ville.32 Ce rôle religieux est renforcé par les établissements et les communautés religieuses rouennaises qui ont, par ailleurs, des bénéfices ou des possessions dans toute la Normandie.33 Cette prépondérance politique, religieuse, démographique, et surtout économique de Rouen, dont les origines sont anciennes, explique donc la domination géographique de la ville au sein de l’espace normand. En tant que capitale régionale, Rouen ordonne un réseau de villes, de bourgs et de villages dont François Neveux a souligné la grande diversité.34 Nous avons essayé de percevoir l’étendue de cette aire d’influence rouennaise à travers le tabellionage rouennais. Les archives du tabellionage de Rouen sont conservées de manière presque continue pour la fin du xve siècle.35 Ce sont d’épais registres de plusieurs centaines de folios et les actes qu’ils renferment sont très longs pour la fin du xve siècle ; il est donc difficile d’obtenir une vue d’ensemble. Toutefois, un inventaire moderne datant du xvie ou du xviie siècle existe pour l’un de ces registres.36 Dans cet inventaire, le rédacteur de l’inventaire a noté pour chaque acte la localité ou la paroisse et le motif de l’acte.37 Cet inventaire nous permet donc de connaître les localités concernées par les transactions, celles-ci ayant été enregistrées à Rouen devant le tabellion royal. Il s’agit dans

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Âge en Normandie et sur ses marges, Caen, publications du CRAHM, 2006, p. 37-52 ; M. Casset, Les évêques aux champs: châteaux et manoirs des évêques normands au Moyen Âge, xie-xve siècles, Pôle universitaire normand Presses universitaires de Caen/Publications des universités de Rouen et du Havre, Caen/Mont-Saint-Aignan, 2007. Il s’agit des résidences archiépiscopales sises aux Andelys et à Fresne-l’Archevêque, Dieppe, Pontoise, Louviers, Pinterville, Déville, Gaillon, Saint-Nicolas d’Aliermont. M. Casset, « Les stratégies d’implantation des châteaux et des manoirs des évêques normands au Moyen Âge (xie-xve siècles) », art. cit., n. 3 page 37 et 39, carte p. 38. Je tiens à remercier monsieur Philippe Lardin qui lors de sa judicieuse relecture a attiré mon attention sur ce point. Fr. Neveux, « La constitution d’un réseau urbain en Normandie », in P. Bouet (éd.), Les Villes normandes au Moyen Âge, op. cit., p. 45-60. Fr. Neveux a montré dans cet article non seulement l’ancienneté du réseau urbain normand mais également sa permanence jusqu’à aujourd’hui, il note notamment : « Ainsi se constitue au xiiie siècle un réseau urbain, dont les structures administratives et ecclésiastiques paraissent un reflet assez fidèle. Ce réseau comprend deux grandes villes (Rouen et Caen), une douzaine de villes moyennes et une quarantaine de petites villes, réparties à travers tout le territoire. […] Ainsi, on peut considérer que se met en place, au xiiie et au xive siècle, le réseau urbain de l’époque moderne et contemporaine. Sans doute y aura-t-il des échecs et des reclassements, mais aussi des réussites inattendues, dues en particulier aux aléas de la révolution industrielle. On peut constater néanmoins que les « grandes villes » médiévales sont devenues capitales régionales, les villes moyennes chefs-lieux de département ou d’arrondissement. Quant aux sièges de doyenné ou de sergenterie, beaucoup d’entre eux sont aujourd’hui des chefs-lieux de canton. », cit. p. 60. Voir pour une présentation plus détaillée des sources : Ph. Cailleux, « Tabellions et tabellionages de Rouen et de sa vicomte (xive-xve siècles) », in M. Arnoux et O. Guyotjeannin (éd.), Tabellions et tabellionages de la France médiévale et moderne, 2011, p. 155-178. Il s’agit du registre concernant l’année 1458–1459, il est conservé aux Archives départementales de Seine-Maritime (ADSM) sous la cote 2E1/2. Les registres des biens meubles du tabellionage de Rouen sont perdus pour la seconde moitié du xve siècle, il s’agit essentiellement d’affaires immobilières : rentes, ventes, donations.

rouen  : p ôle ur b ai n et centre de consommation

la majorité des cas de contrats passés par des Rouennais.38 Nous avons relevé et cartographié toutes les localités citées afin de visualiser l’espace concerné par ces actes.39 La première difficulté a consisté à identifier et à localiser sur la carte les toponymes cités40 : tous n’ont pu être identifiés avec certitude.41 La cartographie a elle aussi été délicate du fait de nombreux paronymes : lorsqu’il n’y avait pas suffisamment de précision, nous n’avons donc privilégié aucune localité et choisi de ne pas cartographier le toponyme. Ainsi, sur ce registre, ce sont 760 mentions de localités qui ont été relevées correspondant à 321 lieux hors Rouen – certains noms revenant à plusieurs reprises – ainsi que trente-six paroisses rouennaises42 ; 81 % (298 mentions) des localités non rouennaises ont pu être cartographiées. Lorsqu’un lieu était mentionné plus de quatre fois, il a fait l’objet d’un figuré spécifique afin de mieux visualiser les places qui étaient les plus mentionnées pour les transactions. La majorité des transactions citées dans cet inventaire se rapporte à des affaires immobilières : rente, rachat de rente ou de fief, échange ou location. La carte des localités dessine donc l’espace d’action des Rouennais en matière immobilière pour l’année 1458–1459. Afin de mieux spatialiser notre analyse, nous avons choisi de représenter les petites villes qui, selon Bruno Sintic font directement partie du réseau urbain rouennais.43 La lecture de la carte donne lieu à plusieurs constatations. Rouen possède une première zone d’influence d’un rayon d’environ 20 km. Nous y trouvons 71 % des localités citées plus de quatre fois ; notons qu’il ne s’agit pas de petites villes mais plus vraisemblablement de villages, de bourgs ou même de terres. Nous savons, grâce aux comptes paroissiaux, que certains Rouennais ont des possessions ou des fiefs dans ces localités comme le Rouennais Robert Le Cornu de la paroisse Saint-Vincent, par ailleurs, écuyer et seigneur d’Epreville-sur-Ry.44

38 Il ne s’agit que d’une vision partielle des contrats passés à Rouen ou par des Rouennais, car ceux-ci contractaient aussi dans d’autres villes normandes. 39 D’autres approches sont possibles à l’aide du tabellionage, ainsi François Neveux a estimé l’aire d’influence de Caen, Falaises et Bayeux en étudiant les noms et la fréquence de mentions des mesures dans les villages avoisinants, voir : Fr. Neveux, « Villages et villes de Normandie à la fin du Moyen Âge », op. cit. ; J-L Roch (éd.), Tabellionages au Moyen âge en Normandie: un notariat à découvrir, Mont-Saint-Aignan, Presses universitaires de Rouen et du Havre, 2014. 40 L’article de F. Lechanteur permet de mesurer la difficulté d’identification des toponymes en Normandie en vue de leur grande déclinaison : F. Lechanteur, « Bosc et Bois dans les noms de lieux de la Normandie », Annales de Normandie, 1952, vol. 2, no 1, p. 65-72. 41 Il convient toutefois de souligner la grande stabilité des toponymes entre le xve siècle et aujourd’hui. La majorité des localités non identifiés l’ayant été pour défaut de lecture à cause d’une graphie incertaine. L’ouvrage de R. Lepelley nous a également été très utile : R. Lepelley, Dictionnaire étymologique des noms de communes de Normandie, Condé-sur-Noireau, Corlet, 2003. 42 Les paroisses hors des remparts comme Saint-Sever ou Saint-Hilaire ont été comptabilisées avec les paroisses rouennaises. 43 B. Sintic, Petites villes de Normandie, op. cit., p. 49 et carte p. 400. Ainsi lorsqu’une des trente et une localités du tabellionage avait une fréquence de mention supérieure à quatre et qu’elle était également commune à l’inventaire fait par Bruno Sintic, elle a été repérée par un figuré particulier. Treize villes ont ainsi été identifiées. 44 Aujourd’hui Martainville-Epreville à 13 km de Rouen.

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Carte des localités citées dans le registre du tabellionage. (Cartographie A. Kucab, fond de carte : google maps©)

Détail de la carte des localités citées dans le registre du tabellionage. (Cartographie A. Kucab, fond de carte : google maps©)

rouen  : p ôle ur b ai n et centre de consommation

Une deuxième zone d’influence, où la densité de mentions de localités est moins forte, forme une couronne d’un rayon de 40 à 60 km, la côte étant à 60 km à l’ouest et au nord-ouest de Rouen. Cette zone d’influence semble maillée par les petites villes, dont les liens étroits avec la métropole rouennaise ont été bien identifiés et étudiés. Notons qu’une ville se détache par son importance car elle est citée plus de quatre fois : il s’agit d’Harfleur, qui confirme ainsi son statut de relais de Rouen sur le littoral. Étrangement, Dieppe n’apparaît pas dans ce registre du tabellionage, probablement parce que l’importance portuaire de la ville fait que les affaires de ses habitants sont traitées par des tabellions dieppois. L’absence d’actes concernant Dieppe et la faible représentation des localités de ses environs semblent aussi indiquer que les élites et la bourgeoisie dieppoise avaient une forte influence locale que les Rouennais ne venaient pas concurrencer.45 Ces différentes zones d’influence sont à rapprocher de celles mises en avant par Isabelle Theiller pour la fréquentation des marchés. Elle a en effet montré que le marché est le centre d’une aire d’influence comprise entre 0 et 25 km, qui correspond à l’aire d’approvisionnement des consommateurs locaux, ceux-ci pouvant y faire l’aller/retour à pied ou à cheval dans la journée. Cependant la répartition géographique des marchés et le choix de leur jour de tenue prennent également en compte les consommateurs occasionnels. Les marchés, organisés en réseau, s’insèrent donc dans une logique locale mais aussi régionale, voire nationale, ce qui est rendu possible par l’attractivité commerciale de la Normandie qui génère d’importants flux de marchandises et d’hommes. De fait, l’organisation des marchés se fait le long des axes de communication selon une stratégie bien établie : le voyageur allant, par exemple, du littoral à Rouen rencontrera sur son trajet une succession de marchés quel que soit son jour de départ.46 Ainsi les marchés locaux appartiennent-ils à plusieurs aires d’influence à la fois. Avec cette cartographie des localités mentionnées dans le tabellionage, nous constatons aussi d’autres tendances : les Rouennais ont logiquement tendance à investir dans des lieux proches des axes de communication (la Seine, les axes Paris-Rouen, Rouen-Dieppe ou Rouen-Amiens) mais un nombre non négligeable de lieux concernés par les contrats est en Basse-Normandie autour de Caen, Valognes et Cherbourg. Ces possessions lointaines témoignent de l’influence de Rouen comme capitale régionale et de la capacité des Rouennais à contracter sur des espaces éloignés de plus de 100 km. Ce relevé des localités mentionnées dans un registre du tabellionage de Rouen confirme la forte polarisation de l’espace rural et des petites villes autour de Rouen dans un rayon allant jusqu’à 50/60 km, 45 Rappelons toutefois que cette conclusion n’est fondée que sur l’examen d’un seul registre d’inventaire du tabellionage. 46 I. Theiller, « Les marchés hebdomadaires en Normandie Orientale (xive siècle-début xvie siècle) » Thèse de doctorat sous la direction de M. Arnoux, Université Paris Diderot – Paris 7, France, 2004, p. 193-208 notamment. Voir aussi l’exemple de la création du marché de Mailleraye-sur-Seine en 1485, M. Arnoux et I. Theiller, « Les marchés comme lieux et enjeux de pouvoir en Normandie (xie-xve siècles) », in A.-M. Flambard-Héricher (éd.), Les lieux de pouvoir au Moyen Âge en Normandie et sur ses marges, op. cit., p. 53-70.

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mais la présence de nombreuses localités au-delà de ce rayon souligne en même temps que Rouen est plus qu’une simple capitale régionale. Afin d’affiner notre analyse, nous avons mis en regard les mentions de lieux identifiées dans le tabellionage avec les relevés de feux que nous avons à notre disposition pour la seconde moitié du xve siècle ; 150 localités relevées dans le tabellionage ont pu être mises en lien avec un rôle de fouage compris entre 1446 et 1509. Nous avons exclu les rôles de fouages incomplets (notamment pour les villes comme Bayeux, Gaillon, Vernon, les Andelys ou Caen) et avons fait une estimation minimum du nombre d’habitants selon la méthode déjà présentée. Nous avons ensuite cartographié ces villes ou villages en fonction de leur population.47 Cette cartographie confirme que la très grande majorité des localités citées dans le registre de tabellionage étudié sont des petits villages dont la population est inférieure à 500 habitants. Onze agglomérations ont une population comprise entre 500 et 1000 habitants et seules six villes dépassent le millier d’habitants : Darnétal, Harfleur, Jumièges, Montivilliers, Pont-de-l’Arche et Saint-Saens.48 Bruno Sintic intègre quatre de ces villes dans le cadre de son étude (Harfleur, Montivilliers, Pont-de-l’Arche, Saint-Saens), mais ne donne pas aux deux autres le rang de « petites villes ». Il est intéressant de souligner que voisinent avec Rouen trois villes de plus de 1000 habitants dans un rayon de 20 km (Darnétal, Jumièges et Pont-de-l’Arche) et six bourgs de plus de 500 habitants (Bois-Guillaume, Bourg-Achard, La-Neuville-Chant-d’Oisel, Le Petit-Quevilly, Quincampoix, Sahurs). Le poids de Rouen ne crée donc pas un vide autour de la ville mais appelle plutôt la constitution d’un réseau de petites villes et de bourgs qui viennent appuyer ou concurrencer son dynamisme. Deux villes de plus de 1000 habitants sont des villes drapantes (Darnétal et Montivilliers), ce qui n’est pas un hasard et renvoie à la mutation de la production du drap que connaissent Rouen et sa région dans la seconde moitié du xve siècle.49 Les liens d’interdépendance économique entre Rouen et les bourgs et villages alentours nous sont bien connus grâce à plusieurs études. Rouen apparaît comme 47 Nous avons multiplié le nombre de feux par 5 et par 4 et ajouté les « non-payants », afin d’obtenir une fourchette minimum d’habitants. Lorsqu’il existait plusieurs rôles de fouages pour une même commune, nous avons privilégié les rôles de la fin du xve siècle, pour la cartographie, la valeur la plus élevée a été retenue. 48 Darnétal a une population comprise entre 2331 et 1866 habitants selon le fouage de 1488, Harfleur, entre 1300 et 1032 (fouage de 1500), Jumièges compte entre 1273 et 1022 habitants en 1482, Montivilliers entre 1102 et 931 habitants en 1452 (mais la paroisse Saint-Germain de Montivilliers compte autour de 434 habitants à elle-seule en 1485), Pont-de-l’Arche comprend entre 1232 et 1016 habitants (en 1488) et Saint-Saens entre 1000 et 816 habitants en 1488. 49 J.-L. Roch qui a beaucoup étudié la question a montré la complexité des liens entre Rouen et son aire d’influence faite de complémentarité et de concurrence. J.-L. Roch, « Entre draperie rurale et draperie urbaine ? La draperie foraine de Rouen à la fin du Moyen Âge », Annales de Normandie, 1998, vol. 48, no 3, p. 211-230 ; J.-L. Roch, « La crise de la draperie rouennaise à la fin du xve siècle. De la manufacture urbaine à la domination régionale », in M. Arnoux et A.-M. Flambard-Héricher (éd.), La Normandie dans l’économie européenne, xve-xviie siècle, Caen, Publications du CRAHM, 2010, p. 153-178 ; J.-L. Roch, « Villes et bourgs drapiers en Haute-Normandie à la fin du Moyen Âge », in Ph. Lardin et J.-L. Roch (éd), La ville médiévale en deçà et au-delà de ses murs, Mélanges

rouen  : p ôle ur b ai n et centre de consommation

Carte présentant les localités mentionnées dans le tabellionage, réparties en fonction de leur population estimée grâces aux fouages normands de la seconde moitié du xve siècle. (Cartographie A. Kucab, fond de carte : google maps)

le lieu où l’on s’approvisionne en produits rares ainsi la ville de Pont-Audemer décide d’envoyer un émissaire à Rouen pour y acquérir un paon pour un repas de « cérémonie » donné par la ville.50 À l’inverse, les campagnes et petites villes alentours fournissent de la matière première, cet approvisionnement en matière première est particulièrement visible dans les préventes des récoltes comme dans ce contrat de 1421 où Huet de Bourssier et Robine, sa femme, de la Neuville-Chant-d’Oisel « vendent chacun pour le tout a Colin Grossier bourgeois de Rouen trois mines de blé bon loial et marchand […] rendu à Rouen en l’ostel dudit acheteur »51 ; le même mois, c’est Denis Huguet dit Gontier et sa Jean-Pierre Leguay, Rouen, PUR, 2000, p. 85-101 ; J.-L. Roch, « L’organisation sociale de la draperie rouennaise aux xive et xve siècles », in P. Bouet et Fr. Neveux (éd.) Les villes normandes au Moyen Âge, op. cit., p. 225-240. 50 B. Sintic, « Boire et manger à Pont-Audemer à la fin du xve siècle », in Ph. Manneville, Manger et boire en Normandie, Actes du xxxiiie congrès des sociétés historiques et archéologiques de Normandie Argentan 2–5 oct. 1997, Caen, musée de Normandie, 1999, p. 199-208, cit. p. 205. 51 La conservation des registres de tabellionage de la fin du xve siècle pour les seuls biens immeubles nous prive de ce type de contrat. ADSM, 2E1/169, fol. 17, cité par Philippe Lardin, « Présence et circulation de l’argent dans les campagnes de Normandie orientale à la fin du Moyen Âge », in A.

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femme vivant à Grand-Couronne qui « confessent devoir a Guieffin Gueroult bourgeois de Rouen demourant en la paroisse de Saint-Denis, c’est assavoir xiii mesure de buche de lii care de gloe le tout en boiz de hestre de bonne loialle et marchande rendue et livree au kay Jehan le Queu de Rouen ».52 Le rôle de Rouen comme place commerciale régionale majeure s’explique par ses importations et ses exportations de marchandises bien au-delà du cadre normand. Étudier les consommations des habitants permet donc de montrer les liens entre Rouen et les autres villes. La ville reçoit en premier lieu de nombreuses marchandises venant de toute l’Europe. Jérôme Münzer en livre la description suivante : Trois avantages confèrent à la ville [Rouen] une situation unique. Tout d’abord la Seine, par laquelle bien des marchandises sont amenées de Paris et d’ailleurs : du vin, du bois, du gypse etc. D’autre part, de nombreux vaisseaux de deux cent tonneaux – nous en vîmes plusieurs remontent depuis la mer et apportent des produits maritimes d’Angleterre, d’Espagne, du Portugal ou de Flandre. […] La cité constitue cependant le meilleur marché qui soit pour des denrées alimentaires pain, froment, poisson de rivière ou de mer, nous y trouvâmes d’excellentes lamproies à un prix favorable. […] Du haut du pont nous vîmes sur le quai de Seine tous les navires en provenance de Paris ou d’ailleurs, qui apportaient le vin, le gypse, le bois et toutes sortes d’autres marchandises.53 Michel Mollat dans sa thèse sur le commerce maritime normand a montré l’importance de Rouen comme place commerciale. Il a également insisté sur le fait que les marchandises ne faisaient pas que transiter par Rouen : « Rouen apparaît, ainsi, comme un gros centre de consommation, recevant 1025 chargements fluviaux et maritimes [en 1477–1478 d’après les comptes de la vicomté de l’Eau] et n’en réexpédiant que 381 ».54 Toutefois, cet unique compte conservé de la vicomté de l’Eau n’autorise essentiellement que des développements quantitatifs.55 Nous avons essayé, à l’aide des comptes de l’archevêque et des paroisses, de procéder de manière différente en relevant toutes les provenances des objets, aliments et personnes rencontrés. Ce relevé ne saurait être exhaustif puisque le dépouillement des comptes est encore en cours. Les éléments qui suivent s’appuient donc sur les sondages déjà réalisés dans les sources56 ainsi que sur l’inventaire sommaire de la série G, effectué par l’archiviste Charles de

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Follain (éd.), L’argent des villages du xiiie au xviiie siècle, Rennes, Association d’histoire des sociétés rurales, 2000, p. 55-68, cit. p. 58. Ibid., p. 59. J. Münzer, Voyage à travers la France (1494/95), op. cit., p. 82–83. M. Mollat du Jourdin, Le commerce maritime normand à la fin du Moyen Âge, op. cit., p. 303. Ph. Cailleux, « La vicomté de l’Eau de Rouen aux xive et xve siècles », in M. Arnoux et A.-M. Flambard-Héricher (éd.), La Normandie dans l’économie européenne, xve-xviie siècle, op. cit., p. 65-80. Outre les comptes dépouillés utilisés, nous sommes par ailleurs aidés de L.-A. Jouen, Comptes, devis et inventaires du manoir archiépiscopal de Rouen, recueillis et annotés par M. le chanoine Jouen, publiés, avec une introduction historique, par Mgr Fuzet, Paris, A. Picard et fils, 1908.

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Beaurepaire.57 Avant toute conclusion, il convient de rappeler que ces sources ne nous donnent qu’un aspect de la consommation à Rouen puisque la provenance des consommables est loin d’être systématiquement indiquée. Par ailleurs, l’indication explicite de la provenance peut aussi dénoter une exception par rapport à l’approvisionnement habituel. Notons enfin qu’il s’agit de la consommation d’élites religieuses urbaines qui ne sont donc pas représentatives des usages et des capacités d’achat de l’ensemble de la ville. Nous pouvons toutefois considérer ces mentions comme un bon indicateur de l’aire d’attractivité de Rouen, de son rapport aux autres villes et enfin de « la capacité d’achat » des acteurs ; par capacité d’achat nous entendons ici non seulement leur solvabilité mais surtout leur possibilité à faire venir et payer des marchandises et des hommes venant d’espaces plus ou moins lointains. Les matériaux de construction58 offrent ainsi un bel exemple de la diversité des provenances. La pierre vient majoritairement des environs de Rouen : Val-des-Leux59, la Bouille60, mais aussi de Louviers (25 km)61 ou de Vernon (à 50 km).62 L’archevêque de Rouen peut aussi utiliser de la pierre, dont la qualité est réputée comme celle de Saint-Leu-d’Esserent (100 km).63 Sans surprise, le prix du tonneau de pierre semble proportionnel à la distance ; en 1460–1461, le tonneau de pierre du Val-des-Leux est au même prix que celui de Louviers, soit 15 sous par tonneau, tandis que la pierre de Vernon est à 18 sous 9 deniers le tonneau (18 sous 10 deniers avec le transport) ; enfin le tonneau de Pierre de Saint-Leu est à 22 sous 6 deniers, le même prix que le tonneau de pierre de Saint-Ouen en 1476–1477.64 La distance n’est pas le seul facteur à prendre en compte : la qualité de la pierre, les prix et un certain effet de mode

57 C. de Beaurepaire, Inventaire-sommaire des archives départementales antérieures à 1790: Seine-Inférieure : Archives ecclésiastiques, série G, (n° 1–1566), tome premier, Paris, P. Dupont, 1864 ; id., Archives ecclésiastiques, série G, (n° 1567–3172), tome deuxième, Paris, P. Dupont, 1874 ; id., Inventaire-sommaire des archives départementales antérieures à 1790: Seine-Inférieure : Archives ecclésiastiques, série G (n° 3173– 4820), tome troisième, Archives ecclésiastiques, série G (n° 4821–6220), tome quatrième, Paris, P. Dupont, 1887 ; id., Archives ecclésiastiques, série G (n° 6221–7370), tome cinquième, Rouen, Impr. J. Lecerf, 1892 ; id., Archives ecclésiastiques, série G (n° 7371–8514), tome sixième, Rouen, Impr. J. Lecerf, 1896 ; JulesJoseph Vernier Inventaire-sommaire des archives départementales antérieures à 1790: (n° 8515–9900), tome septième, série G: Seine-Inférieure Archives ecclésiastiques, Rouen, Impr. Lecerf fils, 1905. 58 Philippe Lardin a consacré sa thèse aux chantiers du bâtiment, de nombreux chapitres sont ainsi consacrés aux matériaux utilisés et à leur prix : Ph. Lardin, Les chantiers du bâtiment en Normandie orientale (xive-xvie siècles), les matériaux et les hommes, Villeneuve d’A scq, Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2001. 59 ADSM, G. 58, G. 176. 60 ADSM, G. 2511. 61 ADSM, G. 58. 62 ADSM, G. 57, G. 58. 63 ADSM, G. 58. 64 Pour plus de détails dans l’utilisation de la pierre à Rouen (notamment par l’archevêque) voir Ph. Lardin, « Les pierres de la vallée de la Seine à la fin du Moyen Âge: l’exemple normand », in C. Thomasset, D. James-Raoul, La pierre dans le monde médiéval, Paris, PUPS, 2010, p. 37-48 ; id., « L’utilisation des pierres du bassin de la Seine en Normandie orientale à la fin du Moyen Âge », in F. Blary, J.-P. Gély, J. Lorenz, Pierres du patrimoine européen. Économie de la pierre, Paris/Château-Thierry, Éditions du Comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques Patrimoine vivant, 2008, p. 357-364.

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entrent aussi dans le choix des zones d’approvisionnement ; comme l’a montré Philippe Lardin.65 D’autres matériaux proviennent d’une zone d’une trentaine de kilomètres de rayon correspondant à l’aire d’influence de Rouen : bois de la Forêt Verte66 ou de Vernon67, plomb d’Harfleur68, verre de Foucarmont69 ou de Fry70 et tuiles de Guenouville.71 Cependant, certains matériaux viennent de plus loin, comme le marbre que l’on fait venir d’Amiens72, ou de Dieppe73, et l’albâtre que l’on va chercher à Grenoble ou en Angleterre.74 La présence de ces matériaux lointains dans les comptes se justifie par leur utilisation à des fins prestigieuses comme la construction de la tombe de l’archevêque. L’albâtre n’arrivait pas seulement « brute » car il existait un commerce de sculptures en albâtre, notamment pour les retables, établi depuis longtemps entre les centres anglais et la Normandie.75 D’autres produits comme le vin suivent une logique comparable à celle de l’approvisionnement en matériaux de construction : origine proche pour l’usage quotidien et plus lointaine pour le prestige. Ainsi les comptes de l’hôtel archiépiscopal et du chapitre détaillent les achats de vin :76 on trouve du vin de Gaillon (3 l. la queue77 en 1453–1454), de Vernon (7 l. 10 s. la queue), de Mantes (7 l. 10 s. 5 d.) ou Paris (8 l. 13 s. 4 d.).78 En revanche les vins d’Orléans (9 l. la

65 « Le choix de ces pierres se faisait en fonction de leur prix, de leur disponibilité mais aussi et peutêtre surtout, selon les modes sans que le prix de revient définitif même élevé soit rédhibitoire. ». Ph. Lardin, « Les pierres de la vallée de la Seine à la fin du Moyen Âge », op. cit., p. 45. 66 ADSM, G. 72. 67 ADSM, G. 73. 68 ADSM, G. 65. 69 ADSM, G. 2487. 70 ADSM, G. 2511. 71 ADSM, G. 2508. 72 ADSM, G. 70. 73 Dans ce cas de figure il s’agit très probablement du marbre arrivant au port de Dieppe par bateau. ADSM, G. 614. 74 ADSM, G.70 et G. 72. 75 Il existe plusieurs notations concernant des sculptures en albâtre dans les comptes, il est difficile de prouver avec certitude leur provenance anglaise, même si cela reste extrêmement probable, comme cette image d’albâtre de Notre-Dame estimée à 25 sous, et présent dans l’inventaire des biens de Gombault mis en vente après son décès, ADSM, G. 3431, 1436–1789. Le musée départemental des antiquités à Rouen conserve de nombreuses pièces d’albâtre provenant d’Angleterre. L. Flavigny et Ch. Jablonski-Chauveau, Sculptures d’albâtre du Moyen Âge: d’Angleterre en Normandie, Rouen, 1997. 76 Les conclusions d’A . Sadourny sur le commerce du vin à Rouen au xive siècle (prix, type de vins, provenances) sont encore valables pour la seconde moitié du xve siècle, à l’exception des vins du Soissonnais très présents au xive siècle mais que nous n’avons pas relevé dans les comptes déjà dépouillés de la seconde moitié du xve siècle, A. Sadourny, « Le commerce du vin à Rouen dans la seconde moitié du xive siècle », Annales de Normandie, 1968, vol. 18, no 2, p. 117-134. 77 Un tonneau de vin équivaudrait à deux queues, et une queue à deux poinçons. Par ailleurs la capacité d’une queue est estimée à environ 402 litres. Équivalences d’après M. Mollat du Jourdin, Le commerce maritime normand à la fin du Moyen Age, op. cit., p. 319 et A. Sadourny, « Le commerce du vin à Rouen dans la seconde moitié du xive siècle », art. cit., cit. p. 118, n. 9. Les équivalences sont toutefois à prendre avec précaution compte-tenu de la grande variabilité des mesures médiévales. 78 À titre indicatif, la queue de cidre du pays d’Auge coûte dans le même compte 3 l. 5 s. Il y a également une mention unique d’une queue de vin de Mantes à 11 l. Toutes ces mentions viennent du compte G. 51. ADSM, G. 51.

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queue) et de Beaune (entre 15 l. et 21 l. 8 d. la queue79) sont plus chers du fait de l’éloignement géographique mais aussi de leur réputation (notamment pour les vins de Beaune). Ces commandes de vin de provenances différentes sont destinées à des buveurs différents. Le vin de Beaune est expressément commandé pour l’archevêque, il en fait parfois don au chapitre alors que les vins de Gaillon ou Vernon – aux qualités gustatives plus médiocres – sont offerts aux officiers, aux serviteurs ou aux ouvriers travaillant pour l’archevêché. Enfin certains produits, plus rarement mentionnés, mettent en évidence des approvisionnements dans des espaces non normands malgré l’existence d’une production locale. La mention d’un achat de « pot de terre de Beauvais »80 nous rappelle que même si la production normande est importante81, les Rouennais ne dédaignent pas des productions réputées. Il s’agit vraisemblablement de grès du Beauvaisis dont certains exemplaires ont été trouvés en fouilles archéologiques à Rouen.82 Plus prestigieux, du drap de Florence est importé puisque nous en trouvons deux mentions dans les comptes : en 1460–1461, l’archevêque de Rouen fait venir des chapes « de pers brocqués d’or » de Florence via Genève83, et en 1503, la paroisse de Saint-Vincent, fait venir du « damas blanc de Fleurence».84 Du commerce avec l’Italie85, nous conservons quelques vestiges comme cette assiette toscane du milieu du xve siècle.86 Nous trouvons aussi mention de vaisselle d’étain venue d’Angleterre, preuve que les échanges commerciaux avec les îles anglo-saxonnes étaient encore vivaces en 1481.87 Les Rouennais aisés consomment donc des produits qui viennent de bien au-delà de l’aire d’influence de Rouen et de la Normandie, en toute logique ces produits lointains sont aussi plus chers.88 À Rouen, ce ne sont pas uniquement les produits qui viennent de tous les horizons, ce sont aussi les hommes. Cette attractivité est un autre marqueur de l’influence et du rayonnement de la ville. Nous savons que de nombreux marchands et marins font affaire à Rouen mais ils ne sont pas les seuls. Les

79 ADSM, G. 51, fol. 16 à 17 et G. 83. Notons que le poinçon de vin de Beaune vieux vaut 13 l. 10 s. 80 ADSM, G. 2507. 81 A.-M. Flambard Héricher et A. Bocquet-Lienard, « La poterie de grès normande: une production aux dimensions de l’Europe », in M. Arnoux et A.-M. Flambard-Héricher (éd.), La Normandie dans l’économie européenne, xiie-xviie siècle, op. cit., p. 179-200 ; X. Delestre, A.-M. Flambard Héricher (éd.), La céramique du xie au xvie siècle en Normandie, Beauvaisis, Île-de-France, Mont-Saint-Aignan, Publications de l’Université de Rouen, 1995. 82 S. Berthelot, J.-Y. Marin et M. Rey-Delqué, Vivre au Moyen Âge : archéologie du quotidien en Normandie, xiiie-xve siècles, Milan, 5 continents éd., 2002, p. 179 (photographie) et p. 272 notice des objets. 83 C’est Jehan Dufour, un marchand de drap rouennais, qui s’occupe de la transaction et de l’expédition. 84 ADSM, G. 7674. L’aune de taffetas de Florence coute 57 sous 6 deniers. 85 Il est vraisemblable, qu’entre 1498 et 1510 alors que l’archevêque de Rouen, Georges d’Amboise est également cardinal, les échanges avec l’Italie aient été renforcés. 86 Appartenant aux collections du Musée départementale des antiquités sous le numéro d’inventaire 920, elle est aujourd’hui conservée au Musée de la céramique. 87 ADSM, G. 7662. Michel Mollat a également relevé les importations d’étain anglais pour les orgues rouennais. M. Mollat du Jourdin, Le commerce maritime normand à la fin du Moyen Âge, op. cit., p. 249. 88 L’éloignement n’est pas l’unique raison du prix élevé de ces produits (pierre de Saint-Leu-d’Esserant, vins de Beaune), leur qualité et leur réputation ont également une influence.

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ouvriers et artisans viennent de Normandie, du Royaume de France et même d’Europe pour travailler sur les chantiers (essentiellement ecclésiastiques) rouennais89. Le dépouillement des comptes nous indique des ouvriers venant de Basse-Normandie, du pays de Caux mais aussi de Bretagne. L’archevêché comme les paroisses font appel à des artisans locaux (Grainville, Déville, Louviers ou Epreville) mais aussi à des travailleurs venus de plus loin (Tours, Cambrai, Senlis, Auxerre). Les travaux réalisés dans la cathédrale, et notamment ceux concernant les chaires, en sont une belle illustration puisque des ouvriers sont appelés et recherchés par le chapitre dans toute la France et au-delà : Anvers, Cologne, Utrecht, Flandre.90 Notons toutefois que des mouvements inverses existent, Rouen pouvant aussi fournir de la main-d’œuvre aux bourgs et villages alentours. Les fouages normands témoignent de ce phénomène puisqu’ils recensent en 1488 des servantes travaillant à Freneuse ou à Pont-de-l’Arche et qui sont acquittées par des parents résidents à Rouen (paroisse Saint-Martin-du-bout-du Pont et Saint-Patrice)91 ou encore un homme travaillant à Elbeuf (paroisse Saint-Jean)92 mais dont la femme et les enfants demeurent à Rouen.93 L’étude de la provenance des produits consommables dans les comptes de l’archevêque, des paroisses et de la municipalité a montré que les riches Rouennais pouvaient s’approvisionner non seulement en Normandie mais également dans tout le royaume de France, et même par delà ses frontières. De telles constatations corroborent l’idée d’une hiérarchie urbaine « pyramidale » dont le modèle a été élaboré par le géographe allemand Walter Christaller

89 Ph. Lardin, « Les déplacements professionnels en Normandie à la fin du Moyen Âge », in S. Curveiller (éd.) Se déplacer du Moyen Âge à nos jours, Calais, Les amis du Vieux Calais, 2009, p. 79-85. Nous ne pouvons que souscrire aux conclusions de Philipe Lardin, pour qui la mobilité est à la fin du Moyen Âge plutôt l’exception : « On le voit, à la fin du Moyen Âge, les déplacements professionnels ne touchent le plus souvent que les responsables des chantiers ou des ouvriers spécialisés très recherchés. Les autres ouvriers, qu’ils soient maîtres ou valets, travaillaient dans un rayon limité. Il est vrai que l’achat et l’installation d’un atelier, souvent coûteux, n’incitaient pas à quitter le lieu où l’on avait sa clientèle. », cit. p. 85. Cette approche confirme le fait que la ville de Rouen, était une ville d’importance et donc suffisamment attractive pour générer des déplacements, parfois sur plusieurs centaines de kilomètres. 90 Pour une vision plus détaillée du recrutement des ouvriers pendant la construction des chaires : F. Billiet et E. C. Block (éd.), Les stalles de la cathédrale de Rouen. Histoire et iconographie, Rouen, Publication de l’université de Rouen, 2003. Voir aussi : Anne Kucab, « Coût et condition de la création à Rouen dans la seconde moitié du xve siècle », in E. Banjec, F. Besson, J. Pilorget et V. Griveau-Grenest (éd.), Créer. Créateurs, créations, créatures au Moyen Âge, Paris, PUPS, 2019. Les contacts avec les régions septentrionales sont aussi attestés par la présence en Normandie d’œuvres d’art flamandes comme le retable bruxellois de la vie de la vierge, daté de la fin du xve siècle et conservé au Musée départemental des antiquités sous le numéro d’inventaire 687, ou le retable de Catelon (Eure), dont les personnages en terre cuite qui le composent ont été vraisemblablement produit à Utrecht (retable conservé au Musée départemental des antiquités sous le numéro d’inventaire 52(A), il date de la seconde moitié du xve siècle). 91 M. Nortier, « Contribution à l’étude de la population de la Normandie au bas Moyen Âge (xive-xvie siècles). Inventaires des rôles de fouage et d’aide. Quatrième série », op. cit., p. 173. 92 M. Nortier, « Contribution à l’étude de la population de la Normandie au bas Moyen Âge (xive-xvie siècles). Inventaires des rôles de fouage et d’aide.Cinquième série : Rôles de fouages paroissiaux de 1500 à 1515 », op. cit., p. 90. 93 Il est exempté de fouage, celui-ci précisant par ailleurs, qu’il ne travaille qu’au mois.

rouen  : p ôle ur b ai n et centre de consommation

Carte représentant la provenance des vins, des matériaux, des hommes et des objets mentionnés dans les comptes dépouillés de la série G. (Cartographie A. Kucab, fond de carte : google maps©)

dans sa théorie des lieux centraux94 : une métropole (Rouen) possède une aire d’influence importante dans laquelle se trouvent des villes moyennes (Dieppe, Evreux, Mantes, etc.) qui ont dans leurs aires d’influence respectives des petites villes (Harfleur, Louviers, Vernon, Gisors). Plus on monte dans la hiérarchie urbaine, plus les villes sont grandes et disposent de commerces et de « services » d’où une aire d’attractivité proportionnelle. Mais cette conception du réseau urbain doit être nuancée afin de

94 Il s’agit de sa théorie des lieux centraux développée en 1933. Anne Radeff et Nicolas Guillaume en ont résumé les enjeux ainsi : « En 1933, Walter Christaller a posé le problème suivant : les marchandises que distribue une ville, considérée comme un “lieu central”, peuvent être commercialisées jusqu’à une certaine distance ; pour lui, un produit = une “portée”. Comment peut-on distribuer une marchandise dans une “couronne” sise au delà de sa portée ? Où doivent se situer les nouveaux lieux centraux susceptibles de relayer le premier dans la distribution de cette marchandise. » A. Radeff et G. Nicolas, « Lieux centraux-décentraux. Théorie de la centralité et réalité des petites villes », in P. Bodineau et Ch. Lamarre (éd.), Capitales ou villes d’appui ? Les petites villes et leurs campagnes du Moyen Âge au xixe siècle, Dijon, Éditions universitaires de Dijon, 2014, p. 21-42, cit. p. 23.

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Carte représentant la provenance des vins, des matériaux, des hommes et des objets mentionnés dans les comptes dépouillés de la série G. (Cartographie A. Kucab, fond de carte : google maps©)

tenir compte de la complexité des relations entre les villes.95 Anne Radeff et Nicolas Guillaume ont ainsi proposé une révision de cette théorie en soulignant la nécessité de prendre en compte la dissymétrie des rapports entre villes.96 De surcroit, les capitales régionales sont aussi liées à des villes de même rang parfois situées à des distances importantes. Rouen peut être ainsi considérée comme une « ville-monde » telle que les définissait Fernand Braudel en 1979, c’est-à-dire un espace urbain qui concentre, reçoit et renvoie des hommes, des marchandises, des moyens de paiements voire des informations.97 En effet, la grande diversité du commerce rouennais témoigne des liens de la ville avec d’autres capitales régionales européennes comme Londres, Séville, Bruges,

95 Isabelle Theiller montre ainsi dans sa thèse l’organisation des jours de marchés afin qu’il n’y ait pas de « chevauchement » dans la même zone géographique, voir : I. Theiller, Les marchés hebdomadaires en Normandie Orientale (xive-début xvie siècle), op. cit. 96 « Le mécanisme de la centralité-décentralité repose sur l’existence de portées différentes pour un même objet et tient compte du fait que les rapports entre les lieux ne sont pas symétriques. Il permet de mieux comprendre la destinée de petites villes qui peuvent au fil du temps devenir grandes ou, au contraire, perdre leur statut urbain », A. Radeff et G. Nicolas, « Capitales ou villes d’appui ? », op. cit., p. 41. 97 F. Braudel, Civilisation matérielle, économie et capitalisme : xve-xviiie s., Paris, A. Colin, 1979.

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Lisbonne98 : il s’agit dans ce cas de relation d’égal à égal entre villes de même envergure.99 Ce lien avec d’autres contrées explique ainsi la place de Rouen dans l’économie européenne au xvie siècle.100 Cette étude confirme que Rouen est une capitale régionale qui structure la région en créant une aire d’influence de 50 à 60 km de rayon. Pour autant, la cartographie des matériaux, aliments et objets consommés tout comme l’origine des hommes qui viennent travailler à Rouen soulignent le rayonnement et l’attractivité de la ville hors de son espace régional et ses liens avec les autres villes européennes et françaises. L’étude de la consommation permet aussi d’inverser les perspectives en analysant ce qui est importé à Rouen, et non pas uniquement ce qui y transite ou en provient comme la draperie. La poursuite des recherches devrait nous permettre d’affiner et de détailler la place qu’occupe Rouen à la fin du xve siècle.

98 M. Mollat du Jourdin, Le commerce maritime normand à la fin du Moyen Âge, op. cit., chap. V : le commerce du Nord et chap. VII : les produits méridionaux. 99 Ainsi, le concept « d’archipel métropolitain mondial » développé notamment par Olivier Dollfus pourrait s’appliquer, jusqu’à un certain point au cas de Rouen au xve siècle ; reprenant l’idée de « ville-monde », O. Dollfus, montre que les villes éloignées mais productrices de richesses, d’activités et d’échanges sont davantage liées entre elles (en un « archipel ») qu’avec d’autres villes plus proches géographiquement. C’est le cas de Rouen à la fin du xive siècle et à l’époque moderne, puisque la ville commerce avec de nombreux ports de l’Atlantique, de la Baltique puis du Nouveau Monde. O. Dollfus, La mondialisation, Paris, Presses de Sciences po, 1997. 100 M. Arnoux et A.-M. Flambard-Héricher (éd.), La Normandie dans l’économie européenne, xiie-xviie siècle, op. cit. ; J. Bottin, « De la toile au change : l’entrepôt rouennais et le commerce de Séville au début de l’époque moderne », Annales du midi, 2005, vol. 117, p. 323-346.

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Morwenna Coquelin 

Le réseau erfurtois à la fin du Moyen Âge Une construction politique en marge du seigneur

« Diese beruhmbte Stadt, so unter dem schutz der hertzogen zu Sachsen iederzeit gewesen, ist eigentlich und allein in Thuringen gelegen, und unter 144 Städten, inmassen denn das land in so viel Städte, 12 Graffschafften, und so viel gefreiete Klöster und Abteyen, als auch 150 Schlösser, und 2 000 dörffer […] die volckreichste und gröste, und von gemeinen bawersleuten des orts, nicht bloss eine Stadt, sondern vor ein gantzes landt, und zwar billich vor die hauptstadt geachtet wird, mehren theils in die runde, und abhengig nach dem wasser Hiera oder Ihera, so fasten alle gassen der Stadt durchleuffet, an einem schönen fruchtbaren, von wein und andern früchten trachtigem boden zu welcher zeit aber, und durch wer solche Stadt erbawet, davor schreiben die gelehertesten und erfahrnen historici, […] und wirt auch sonsten vor bestendig von allen affirmirt, das solche mit der Stadt Venedig in Italia, glaichen anfang habe, in einer zeit, A. 421 erbawet, wie denn geschrieben wirdt, das zum ersten könig Dagobertus aus franckreich, Clotary oder Lothari sohn, des orts ein Castells wieder die Thuringer angelegt […] »1

1 Anonyme, Beschreibung etlicher vornemer Städte in Sachsen, Thüringen und Meissen [Description de quelques villes remarquables de Saxe, Thuringe et Misnie], Stadtarchiv Erfurt [désormais StAE] 5/105-6, p. 870–871. « Cette ville fameuse, depuis toujours sous la protection des ducs de Saxe, est bel et bien située en Thuringe, et c’est la plus peuplée et la plus grande parmi 144 villes, car il y a en effet tant de villes en ce pays, 12 comtés, et tant de couvents et abbayes libres, et aussi 150 forteresses, et 2 000 villages […], et grâce aux communautés paysannes, ce n’est pas simplement une ville, mais bien tout un pays, et certes à raison on la considère comme la capitale de nombreux espaces à la ronde, et grâce à l’eau de la Hiera ou Ihera [Gera], qui court par presque toutes les ruelles de la ville, elle a un sol bon et fertile, qui porte la vigne et d’autres fruits en tous temps. A quelle époque, et par qui, la ville fut construite, de cela parlent les plus lettrés et savants historiens […], et aussi tous affirment constamment que le commencement de cette ville est comparable à celui de Venise en Italie, construite à une époque, en 421, comme cela a été écrit, où pour commencer le roi Dagobert du Royaume franc, fils de Clotaire ou Lothaire, installa de nouveau les Thuringiens dans une forteresse du lieu ». Sauf mention contraire, les traductions sont de l’autrice.

Morwenna Coquelin • AhloMA-CRH, EHESS Urban Hierarchy: The Interaction between Towns and Cities in Europe in Late Medieval and Early Modern Times, ed. by María Asenjo-González, Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan & Andrea Zorzi, Studies in European Urban History (1100–1800) 53 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 49–71.

© FHG

DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.124662

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m orw en n a coquelin

C’est par ces mots que l’auteur anonyme d’une chronique présentant des villes de l’Allemagne moyenne, mais aussi de la région alpine – villes suisses, françaises ou italiennes – introduit le passage qu’il consacre à Erfurt. Le volume date du début du xviie siècle2 mais concentre des topoï anciens du portrait d’une ville défiant toutes les autres, et défiant aussi toute catégorisation. Cette ville était en effet placée sous l’autorité d’un seigneur, c’était une ville territoriale dont la relation à l’empereur n’était pas immédiate, au contraire de celle des villes libres ou villes d’Empire (Freie Städte, Reichsstädte), qui ne dépendaient pas d’un seigneur intermédiaire – ainsi de Nuremberg ou de Francfort. Erfurt appartenait à l’archevêque de Mayence, dont elle n’était pas la capitale. Mais le chroniqueur effectue ici plusieurs glissements spatiaux. Pour commencer, il place la ville sous la protection immémoriale des ducs de Saxe (« so unter dem schutz der hertzogen zu Sachsen iederzeit »). Cette mention indique que l’auteur était favorable aux ducs : en effet, la protection ducale n’était pas depuis toujours accordée à la ville mais fut établie par le traité de Weimar en 1483, suite à un conflit armé entre la ville, son seigneur et les ducs, et était assortie du paiement d’une taxe recognitive de cette protection.3 Les ducs cherchèrent à réduire l’influence de cette enclave étrangère dans leur principauté au profit de leurs villes ; ils cherchèrent parallèlement à créer un lien entre Erfurt et leur autorité pour renforcer la proximité géographique en la doublant d’un lien politique. Pour ce glissement, le chroniqueur joue de la situation de la ville. En effet, la ville était une exclave de la principauté mayençaise en plein bassin thuringien, au contact avec la principauté saxonne, à un peu moins de 300 km de Mayence. Le chroniqueur ancre de la sorte la ville en Thuringe, hors de la principauté de son seigneur légitime. Là encore, on peut lire son identité saxonne. Il construit l’espace comme les ducs ont cherché à le faire, en profitant de la situation géographique de la ville pour réduire la distance avec le territoire saxon.4 De plus, alors même que la ville n’était pas une capitale politique, le texte la reconnaît comme capitale (hauptstadt), bien dotée donc des critères nécessaires à ce titre. C’est la metropolis thuringiae, titre qui résumait toute l’ambiguïté de sa situation : métropole, chef d’un espace, mais pas capitale ; métropole d’un espace physique sans réalité politique. Ce n’est pas une erreur du chroniqueur : c’est qu’il superpose l’espace politique, dans lequel la ville est territoriale, l’espace géomorphologique du bassin thuringien, dans lequel Erfurt domine, l’espace des pratiques et celui des représentations, les siennes et celles qu’il contribue à renforcer et construire par ce texte. Erfurt est la capitale d’un pays, le sien – nous y



2 Il contient des développements relatifs à des événements de 1599 ou 1605. Ibid., p. 809 et 1074. 3 Cette taxe astronomique de 150 000 florins rhénans, trois fois plus élevée que les dommages payés à l’archevêque pour rébellion (40 000 florins rhénans), fut l’une des causes de la banqueroute de la ville en 1509. StAE 0-0/A-VIII, n°6 et 7. Sur les conflits de la fin du xve siècle avec l’archevêque et le duc, voir Peter Willicks, « Die Konflikte zwischen Erfurt und dem Erzbischof von Mainz am Ende des 15. Jahrhunderts », et Volker Press, « Zwischen Kurmainz, Kursachsen und dem Kaiser – Von städtischer Autonomie zur „Erfurter Reduktion“ 1664 », in Erfurt 742–1992. Stadtgeschichte, Universitätsgeschichte, éd. par Ulman Weiß (Weimar : Böhlau, 1992), pp. 225–240 et pp. 385–402. 4 Voir les figures 3 et 4, p. XXX [to be determined in the whole volume].

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reviendrons –, mais c’est aussi la capitale d’un espace géographique, la Thuringe, qui n’a plus de réalité politique depuis 1247. Cette représentation spatiale formée de la superposition de multiples territoires construit aussi le titre d’Erfurt comme capitale : les espaces politique, économique, historique et naturel ne correspondent pas exactement et le rang d’Erfurt était le résultat à la fois des décalages et des recouvrements. Au-delà du cas erfurtois, cet extrait condense bien les problèmes qui se posent lorsque l’on souhaite définir la place d’une ville – nécessairement par rapport à d’autres – et la hiérarchie urbaine sur un territoire plus ou moins vaste. On peut les résumer en deux points. D’une part, la question des critères utilisés pour construire la hiérarchie, et partant le niveau d’une ville donnée dans l’ensemble urbain. Ces critères sont tant ceux des médiévaux, dans leur propre système de classement des villes, que ceux construits par la recherche contemporaine en histoire, en géographie, ou encore en sociologie. D’autre part, la question de la forme spatiale de cet ensemble urbain. La hiérarchie urbaine emprunte-t-elle la forme de la pyramide ? Ou bien ne suit-elle pas des logiques moins verticales pour organiser les villes en cercles dans un réseau plus souple ? Il convient alors de s’interroger sur le degré de rigidité ou de fluidité de cette hiérarchie urbaine, et sur les variations qui peuvent intervenir d’une échelle à l’autre. L’article suivra les représentations proposées par le chroniqueur saxon anonyme pour analyser la place d’Erfurt dans une hiérarchie urbaine tout autant que la perception de cette hiérarchie. Je commencerai par explorer ce qui fait d’Erfurt une grande ville, avant de présenter les éléments qui en font une capitale. J’ouvrirai esuite la perspective à la production d’un espace erfurtois hors les murs, par l’étude du territoire erfurtois puis celle d’un réseau urbain ignoré du chroniqueur, pour présenter la place d’Erfurt à l’échelle régionale et à l’échelle du Saint-Empire. 1. Erfurt la grande La chronique du xviie siècle citée en ouverture est le point d’aboutissement d’une tradition ancienne qui fait le portrait de l’espace erfurtois autour de thèmes limités, qui servent à la caractériser comme grande ville. On les trouve condensés en 1492 dans le texte consacré à la ville par Hartmann Schedel pour sa Chronique universelle. Erfurt, l’une des rares villes à bénéficier d’une illustration réaliste et unique – c’est-à-dire que la planche gravée ne fut pas utilisée pour une autre ville avec un simple changement de légende, mais ne servit qu’à Erfurt –, y est décrite comme « die groß und gedechtnusswirdig statt ein hawbt Thüringer lannds […] mit mawrn und höfen der burger ».5 Cette planche présente une ville à

5 « La grande ville, digne de mémoire, une tête du pays de Thuringe […] avec murs et cours des bourgeois », Hartmann Schedel, La Chronique universelle de Nuremberg : l’édition de 1493, colorisée et commentée, éd. par Stefan Füssel (Cologne : Taschen, 2001), fols CLVv et CLVI.

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Figure 1. Gravure d’Erfurt dans la chronique universelle d’Hartmann Schedel6

l’urbanisme dense, et comportant de nombreux clochers et tours civiles – Erfurt était surnommée la ville aux quatre-vingt-dix-neuf tours. Le foisonnement, la richesse, sont des lieux communs du portrait d’Erfurt.6 Ce topos, bien en place depuis le xve siècle, de la ville populeuse et riche, de ce fait capitale du bassin thuringien, est repris également par Luther qui lui donne une aura supplémentaire en faisant de la ville le résultat d’une volonté divine. Lui aussi utilise le qualificatif de fertile : Erfurt est pour lui « ein fruchtbarer Bethlehem ».7 La fécondité de la ville est certes à comprendre dans



6 Hartmann Schedel, Weltchronik (Nuremberg : Koberger, 1493), fols CLVv-CLVI. Numérisation : https://fr.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fichier:Schedel_erfurt.jpg. 7 « Une Bethléem fertile », Martin Luther, Tischreden (Weimar : Böhlau, 1967²), n°2871b, pp. 44–45. Le propos complet est « Von Erfurt. Erfurt liegt am besten Orte, ist eine Schmalsgrube ; da muss eine Stadt stehen, wenn sie gleich wegbrennte. Wenn Nürnberg da stünde, sie sollte das ganze Land unter sich reissen. Denn wo böse Nahrung ist, sa sint witzige Leute, die müssens suchen ; wo aber gnug ist, da mäst man sich, wie die Säur, und bauet nicht. Erfurt ist ein sehr fruchtbar Bethlehem gewest ; aber man hat mit dem Weiden die Aecker also verderbt, dass der Segen nun iu ein Fluch gerathen ist. Die Thaler thun den Baurn zu wol. Gott wird ihnen Thaler geben, und das liebe Korn nehmen, alsdenn wird Hunger und Theurung folgen » [Erfurt est situé on ne peut mieux. Un vrai pays de cocagne. On ne peut pas imaginer qu’il n’y ait pas de ville en cet endroit, quand elle devrait être périodiquement la proie

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un sens également spirituel, puisque c’est à Erfurt que Luther fit ses études et se fit moine. Mais ce n’est pas qu’une métaphore ou une critique morale de la cupidité et la fainéantise des paysans qui ne savaient plus, selon lui, que profiter de la terre et de ses richesses, pour en tirer de l’argent, plutôt que continuer à travailler le sol. La phrase attribuée au théologien insistait aussi sur la nécessité physique qu’une ville se trouvât là : « da muss eine Stadt stehen », en raison de la richesse du sol sur les rives de la Gera et dans les campagnes alentour. Au-delà de la critique morale, on lit bien dans ces lignes la fertilité d’un sol lourd, riche, et propice à l’agriculture et donc au commerce du surplus : Erfurt est un pays de cocagne (« Schmalsgrube »), où tout est en suffisance (« wo aber gnug ist »). De même, le chroniqueur anonyme du xviie siècle insiste sur cette richesse de la ville, la plus grande par son étendue, sa démographie (« die volckreichste ») et la quantité comme la variété de ses productions agricoles (« an einem schönen fruchtbaren, von wein und andern früchten trachtigem boden »). C’est pour le chroniqueur le fondement de sa puissance comme l’explication de sa place au sommet de la hiérarchie urbaine. La démographie est un critère classique de la ville, et c’est toujours celui des administrations contemporaines ; tout l’enjeu est dans la discrétisation. Pour évaluer la puissance démographique d’Erfurt, il convient aussi de la replacer dans son temps et dans son espace. On estime à environ 18 000 le nombre d’habitants à Erfurt à la fin du Moyen Âge.8 C’est petit, pour tout chercheur habitué aux grandes villes de France, des Flandres ou de l’Italie du Nord. Mais c’est considérable dans le Saint-Empire où les villes sont très nombreuses mais aussi très peu peuplées. La plus grande en ce domaine est Nuremberg, qui compte 40 000 âmes environ à la fin du Moyen Âge. Deux fois plus qu’Erfurt, certes, mais bien moins que Paris et ses 200 000 habitants à la même époque. Surtout, très peu de villes du Saint-Empire atteignent ce niveau de population. A l’autre extrémité, très nombreuses sont les villes allemandes n’abritant que quelques milliers d’habitants. Une ville comme Francfort, par exemple, pourtant



du feu. Si Nuremberg était aussi bien situé, tout ce pays deviendrait son fief. Là où le sol produit peu de ressources, les gens sont fort habiles, car il leur faut chercher de quoi se nourrir ; là où tout croît à gogo, on s’engraisse comme pourceaux, et on ne travaille pas la terre. Erfurt a été un vrai Bethléem, une terre archi-fertile. Mais le pacage a gâté tous les champs, et cette terre bénie de Dieu s’est transformée en une terre maudite. Les paysans aiment trop les écus. Dieu leur en donnera, mais il leur retirera le bon froment ; et nous aurons la disette et la vie chère. Traduction de Louis Sauzin, Propos de table (Paris : Montaigne, 1932), p. 493]. Sur les liens entre Luther et Erfurt, voir Ulman Weiß, Ein fruchtbar Bethlehem. Luther und Erfurt (Berlin : Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1982). 8 Les estimations sont possibles grâces aux registres fiscaux et grâce aussi aux registres de bourgeoisie, qui permettent de connaître le nombre approximatif de bourgeois. Theodor Neubauer, « Die sozialen und wirtschaftlichen Verhältnisse der Stadt Erfurt vor Beginn der Reformation », 1re partie dans Mitteilungen des Vereins für Geschichte und Altertumskunde von Erfurt [désormais MVGAE], 34–2, 1913, pp. 1–78, et 2e partie dans MVGAE, 35, 1914, pp. 1–95.

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ville de l’élection impériale et lieu des plus grandes foires d’Europe occidentale, ne comptait que 12 000 habitants à la fin du Moyen Âge.9 Erfurt était donc une ville très peuplée à l’échelle du Saint-Empire, et dans le petit groupe des villes les plus peuplées de cet espace. La ville était également une ville riche grâce à un sol fertile et grâce à une ressource précieuse : l’eau de la Gera, qui donna aussi indirectement son nom à la ville. « Furt » signifie en effet gué, et la ville est bien un point de passage où les nombreux bras de la Gera sont aisément franchissables à pied. L’étymologie donnée dans les chroniques médiévales est celle d’un meunier du nom d’Erff ou Erphes qui, travaillant à l’emplacement de la future ville, lui aurait donné son nom.10 Pour fantaisiste qu’elle est, cette explication souligne l’importance des moulins à eau pour la ville. Très nombreux au Moyen Âge et jusqu’au xixe siècle, ils soutenaient l’économie urbaine par la production de papier et surtout le meulage de la guède séchée, qui doit être réduite en poudre pour servir ensuite à la teinture.11 La Gera était bien contrôlée par les Erfurtois et intégrée à l’urbanisme de la ville. Le Conseil de ville décida ainsi de la construction de nombreux ponts, digues et canaux de dérivation pour éviter les crues ou apporter l’eau dans des quartiers plus éloignés du lit naturel de la rivière, « si bien qu’elle coule par presque toutes les ruelles de la ville » (« so fasten alle gassen der Stadt durchleuffet »). Si l’eau de la Gera est bien identifiée par le chroniqueur comme source de richesse pour la ville, elle n’est pas le seul élément de cette richesse. La terre est fertile (« schönen fruchtbaren ») et produit des fruits variés. Seul le vin est mentionné ici, ce qui peut correspondre aux intérêts et aux goûts d’un chroniqueur appartenant sans doute à la petite noblesse de robe, ou refléter le déclin, au xviie siècle, de la plante qui fit la prospérité d’Erfurt tout au long du Moyen Âge : la guède. Plante tinctoriale donnant du bleu, la guède était la production agricole principale autour d’Erfurt, avec les céréales. Cette production était contrôlée par les riches bourgeois négociants, en ville, qui affermaient des terres ou commandaient les récoltes, puis organisaient la transformation de la plante dans leurs arrière-cours, avant de vendre le produit fini à Erfurt,

9 Sur les villes allemandes et leur évolution : Eberhard Isenmann, Die deutsche Stadt im Mittelalter 1150–1550: Stadtgestalt, Recht, Verfassung, Stadtregiment, Kirche, Gesellschaft, Wirtschaft (CologneWeimar-Vienne : Böhlau, 2012). 10 La chronique de J. Rothe († 1434) en donne la première version écrite conservée, reprise ensuite, quasiment mot pour mot, dans toutes les chroniques. Johannes Rothe, Thüringische Landeschronik und Eisenacher Chronik, éd. par Sylvia Weigelt (Berlin : Akademie Verlag, 2007), p. 19 ; Conrad Stolle († vers 1505), Memoriale-thüringisch-erfurtische Chronik, éd. par Richard Thiele (Halle : Hendel, 1900), p. 60–61 ; Nikolaus von Siegen († 1495), Chronicon Ecclesiasticum Nicolai de Siegen, éd. par Franz Xavier Wegele (Iéna : Frommann, 1855), p. 196. 11 Erfurter Mühlengeschichte, éd. par Eberhard Menzel (Erfurt : Stadt und Geschichte e. V., 2006).

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Nuremberg ou dans les villes de Lusace.12 La guède erfurtoise était ainsi exportée dans toute l’Europe. Les campagnes alentour produisaient également des céréales en grande quantité. Ce dynamisme agricole se lit par exemple dans une notation de la chronique de Conrad Stolle : le chanoine erfurtois rapporte, non sans fierté, qu’en 1491 la ville pouvait exporter vers des régions frappées de disette une cinquantaine de charriots chargés de blés.13 Là encore, la production était polarisée par la ville.14 Ces productions agricoles alimentaient un commerce en ville, sur les divers marchés quotidiens ou hebdomadaires. Les places de marché étaient des éléments structurant de la topographie urbaine, formée autour de places et d’axes les reliant : l’Anger,15 large place du marché aux céréales débouchant à l’Est sur la porte Krämpfer et se poursuivant à l’Ouest sous la forme d’une route menant jusqu’à la porte des Tanneurs ; le parvis de la cathédrale pour le commerce de la guède, du sel et du charbon, parvis auquel on accédait par la porte Saint-André au Nord, et qui était ensuite relié à l’Anger via le Fischmarkt ; ce marché au poisson se trouvait juste devant l’Hôtel de ville ; enfin la place du « Moindre marché » (Wenigemarkt), de l’autre côté du pont des Epiciers, relié à l’Est à la porte Krämpfer par l’Anger, accueillait tous les jours un marché alimentaire destiné à la consommation ordinaire des citadins. La ville fut ainsi construite comme un assemblage de places de marchés, reliées par de grands axes, et la circulation en ville se faisait d’un espace commercial à un autre, ce qui témoigne de la vivacité de ce commerce et de la consommation en ville – après tout, près de 20 000 habitants devaient bien se nourrir quotidiennement.

12 La plante était conservée dans des granges en ville pour y être séchée, puis était réduite en poudre, façonnée ensuite en balles grosses comme le poing pour le transport. Une maison typique de négociant erfurtois comportait dans la cour, à côté d’une brasserie et de bains, des lieux de stockage et de séchage ainsi qu’une meule. Voir Thomas Nitz, Stadt-Bau-Geschichte: Stadtentwicklung und Wohnbau in Erfurt vom 12. bis zum 19. Jahrhundert (Berlin : Lukas, 2005). Les négociants contrôlaient ainsi le commerce de la guède de la plantation à la vente du produit transformé : Werner Mägdefrau, « Zum Waid- und Tuchhandel thüringischer Städte im späten Mittelalter », Jahrbuch für Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 2, 1973, pp. 131–143 ; Astrid Schmidt-Händel, Der Erfurter Waidhandel an der Schwelle zur Neuzeit (Francfort/Main : Lang, 2004). 13 Ce blé fut envoyé vers la Hesse, la Franconie, la vallée du Rhin, la Hollande et le Brabant. Memorialethüringisch-erfurtische Chronik, p. 445 et 458. 14 Sur l’économie agricole autour d’Erfurt, voir Carl Beyer et Johannes Biereye, Geschichte der Stadt Erfurt bis zum Jahre 1664 (Erfurt : Keyser, 1935) ; Theodor Neubauer, « Wirtschaftsleben im mittelalterlichen Erfurt », Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 12 (1914), pp. 521–548. 15 Le terme désigne littéralement un pré communal mais a perdu ce sens pour ne désigner, depuis le Moyen Âge, que la plus grande place d’Erfurt et l’un des centres commerciaux de la ville.

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Figure 2. Plan de la ville et des paroisses d’Erfurt16 16

Ce commerce agricole, non limité aux productions du bassin thuringien, se lit fort bien dans un document dressé en 1441 par l’homme du conduit, qui recensait les produits commercialisés à Erfurt et les taxes ou exemptions associées.17 La préoccupation première était ce qui poussait (« was […] gewachsen ist ») :18 le vin, les céréales destinées aux hommes ou aux bêtes, les fruits, tous produits qui pouvaient bénéficier d’exemptions.19 Parmi les céréales, étaient explicitement citées l’avoine, l’orge et le houblon, pour la brasserie qui était une activité importante à Erfurt. Venaient ensuite dans le tableau du conduit d’autres produits de consommation ou liés à la production agricole : le bétail et les chevaux, les poissons. Tous ces produits étaient destinés au marché urbain,

16 Erphurdianus Antiquitatum Variloquus Incerti Auctoris, éd. par Richard Thiele (Halle : Hendel, 1906). 17 « Ausschreibung des geleytstaffel zcu Erffurt bey der zceyt hartung Cammermeisters gleitman anno 1441 » [compilation du tableau du conduit par Hartung Cammermeister, homme du conduit, en 1441], StAE 2-122/5 [désormais Geleitstafel], fols clxviv/179v-clxxiiv/185v. 18 Geleitstafel, fol. clxviv/179v. 19 Ibid.

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tant pour les petits marchés hebdomadaires que pour les grandes foires (« alle wochen merckt kermesszen und Jarmackten »).20 L’activité agricole était intense et génératrice de profits pour les paysans comme pour les bourgeois. Elle était tournée vers Erfurt, place de marché à l’échelle locale et impériale permettant la redistribution des produits de consommation quotidienne ou des produits plus rares. La ville d’Erfurt remplissait ainsi l’un des critères de l’urbanité fixés dans l’idéal-type weberien21 et plus largement dans les représentations occidentales de la ville, qui la définissent a minima par sa démographie et son activité économique. « Urbaines sont les localités où le commerce et la fabrication prédominent sur le travail de la terre », résume George Duby avant de montrer l’insuffisance d’une telle définition.22 Par son aspect même, Erfurt entre dans cette catégorie et semble proclamer sa qualité de ville en étant, et à plusieurs échelles, « face au village engoncé dans ses lenteurs, le marché largement ouvert aux échanges, le nœud de circulation monétaire ».23 Cette polarisation était le résultat d’une action du Conseil qui, en amont, contrôlait la production agricole des campagnes alentour la production, et, en aval, détenait le droit de police sur les marchés, contrôlait la balance municipale ou fixait les droits de douane. Le Conseil intervenait aussi en contrôlant les activités de brasserie en ville, et en gérant le grenier municipal où était stockée de la farine, utilisée en cas de disette pour faire du pain vendu ensuite à des prix fixés par le Conseil. Ces relations entre une ville et son plat pays n’ont rien que de très classique et de nombreuses études ont analysé l’organisation de l’espace agricole par la ville selon le schéma centre/périphérie comme l’établissement d’une domination de la ville sur la campagne par la polarisation des flux au profit de la ville, qui capte ainsi les marchandises et les redistribue par son marché, et qui capte aussi les hommes en les attirant par les fonctions qu’elle possède et que l’on ne trouve pas dans le plat pays – fonctions administrative, religieuse, judiciaire ou intellectuelle.24 La centralité est ainsi une clé d’analyse des villes, annoncée programmatiquement en 1979 dans un ouvrage dirigé par Emil Meynen.25 Dans ce cadre, la ville est définie avant tout comme un point central contrôlant et organisant le plat pays à son profit.

20 Ibid. 21 Max Weber, La Ville (Paris : Les Belles Lettres, 2013). 22 Georges Duby, « Préface », Histoire de la France urbaine, éd. par G. Duby, t. 1, La Ville antique : des origines au ixe siècle, éd. par Paul Février et al. (Paris : Seuil, 1980), p. 11. 23 Ibid. 24 Voir par exemple, pour l’espace germanique, Herbert Eiden et Franz Irsigler, « Environs and Hinterland : Cologne and Nuremberg in the Later Middle Ages », in Trade, urban hinterlands and market integration, c. 1300–1600, éd. par James A. Galloway (Londres : University of London, 2000), pp. 43–57 ; Städtisches Um- und Hinterland in vorindustrieller Zeit, éd. par Hans K. Schulze (Cologne : Böhlau, 1985) ; Rolf Kießling, Die Stadt und ihr Land: Umlandpolitik, Bürgerbesitz und Wirtschaftsgefüge in Ostschwaben vom 14. bis ins 16. Jahrhundert (Cologne-Vienne : Böhlau, 1989). Pour la Thuringe plus spécifiquement, voir Wieland Held, Zwischen Marktplatz und Anger: StadtLand-Beziehungen im 16. Jahrhundert in Thüringen (Weimar : Böhlau, 1988). 25 Zentralität als Problem der mittelalterlichen Stadtgeschichtsforschung, éd. par Emil. Meynen (Cologne : Böhlau, 1979).

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C’est la comparaison des influences exercées par les villes et des sphères dans lesquelles elles s’exercent qui permet ensuite de les hiérarchiser, selon leur degré de centralité. Reprenant l’étude de Walter Christaller fixant le cadre de cette hiérarchie des villes selon leur centralité relative, et la dépouillant de ses théories nazies de remaniement de l’espace,26 des chercheurs se sont penchés sur le fonctionnement de groupes de villes comme des réseaux hiérarchisés de lieux centraux principaux entourés de lieux centraux de deuxième et de troisième rangs dont la sphère d’influence est à la fois plus limitée spatialement et moins importante qualitativement.27 Erfurt est bien une ville dynamique qui peut être qualifiée de centrale. Cette centralité est un motif récurrent dans les chroniques produites en villes, depuis celles des bénédictins de Saint-Pierre28 jusqu’à celle de notre anonyme du xviie siècle. La qualification de « capitale » retenue par les contemporains peut ainsi s’expliquer par sa centralité au sein d’un espace rural local, organisé depuis la ville par les activités commerciales. Toutefois, la ville ne domine pas un réseau de villes à l’échelle locale, en raison des disparités de poids politique et économique entre les villes du bassin thuringien : la trop grande inégalité du semis urbain empêche le développement d’une telle structure. 2. La production d’un territoire erfurtois Cette grandeur de la ville n’était pas seulement celle de son étendue et de sa démographie. Erfurt devait aussi son statut à l’extension de son autorité sur les campagnes alentour, ce qui fit d’elle tout un pays, et pas tout simplement une ville : « nicht bloss eine Stadt, sondern vor ein gantzes land », dit le chroniqueur anonyme du xviie siècle. C’est l’un des éléments qui fondèrent la puissance politique de la ville et lui permirent de monter dans la hiérarchie urbaine, tout en complexifiant son statut de ville territoriale. Soumis à son seigneur, le Conseil de ville était pourtant devenu seigneur lui-même, et sans aucun lien avec l’archevêque de Mayence, sur un ensemble territorial (Gebiet) acquis au cours des derniers siècles du Moyen Âge.

26 Walter Christaller, Die zentralen Orte in Süddeutschland: Eine ökonomisch-geographische Untersuchung über die Gesetzmäßigkeit der Verbreitung und Entwicklung der Siedlungen mit städtischen Funktionen (Iéna : G. Fischer, 1933). Sur l’instrumentalisation du concept d’espace et des recherches associées, voir Werner Köster, « “L’espace” comme catégorie de resubstantialisation. Deux conjonctures sémantiques » in Espaces de pouvoir, espaces d’autonomie en Allemagne, éd. par Hélène Miard-Delacroix, Guillaume Garner et Béatrice von Hirschhausen (Villeneuve d’A scq : Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2010), pp. 53–63. 27 Städtelandschaft – Städtenetz – zentralörtliches Gefüge, éd. par Monika Escher, Alfred Haverkamp et Frank Hirschmann (Mayence : von Zabern, 2000) ; Jean-Luc Fray, Villes et bourgs de Lorraine : réseaux urbains et centralité au Moyen Âge (Clermont-Ferrand : Presses universitaires Blaise Pascal, 2006) ; Odile Kammerer, Entre Vosges et Forêt-Noire : pouvoirs, terroirs et villes de l’Oberrhein (Paris : Publications de la Sorbonne, 2001). 28 Monumenta Erphesfurtensia: saec. XII. XIII. XIV., éd. par Oswald Holder-Egger, Monumenta Germaniae historica, Scriptores, 7 (Hanovre : Hahn, 1899).

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Le Conseil lui-même marquait la capacité des bourgeois d’Erfurt à se gouverner eux-mêmes, droit attesté par écrit depuis 1212.29 Les bourgeois profitèrent ensuite de leur économie florissante et du manque chronique d’argent des archevêques pour acheter de nombreux droits. Le xiiie siècle vit l’affermissement du pouvoir consulaire : des textes normatifs furent écrits et les prérogatives du Conseil s’enrichirent de droits en matières commerciale, juridique, judiciaire et fiscale.30 À la fin du xiiie siècle, le Conseil contrôle l’espace intra-muros de façon autonome. Il acquiert progressivement le droit de battre monnaie, en retirant les gens de monnaie du contrôle archiépiscopal pour les placer sous son autorité puis en achetant en 1348, pour 3 000 marcs d’argent, le droit complet de battre monnaie.31 Ce droit contribue aussi à accroître cette visibilité d’Erfurt en tant que seigneur puisque le nom de l’archevêque disparaît des pièces au profit de celui de la ville.32 Parallèlement à ce regroupement de droits dans la main des conseillers, on observe un mouvement d’exception par rapport à la norme du seigneur, puisqu’Erfurt disposait des privilèges de non evocando et de non appellando, régulièrement confirmés par l’archevêque depuis le xiiie siècle.33 Cette autonomie grandissante de la ville par rapport à son seigneur fut conflictuelle et régulièrement redéfinie, ainsi en 1289 par la Concordata Gerhardi passée avec l’archevêque Gerhard II (1288–1305).34 Là encore, Erfurt est conforme aux critères de l’idéal-type weberien, d’une commune autonome et autocéphale. En outre, le Conseil avait étendu son autorité hors les murs d’enceinte de la ville. L’ensemble territorial erfutois, fractionné en plusieurs blocs, comportait une grande partie de la vallée de la Gera moyenne et inférieure et des vallées de ses affluents, ainsi qu’une partie du bassin de la Gramme et de ses affluents : l’un des fils organisateurs de l’espace erfurtois était le réseau hydrographique thuringien.35 Le pays erfurtois s’étendait au Nord-Ouest jusqu’à la vallée de l’Unstrut, comprenant notamment des villages sur les sommets de l’Alacher, la ville de Sömmerda et la forteresse de Vargula. A l’Est le territoire touchait le piémont de l’Ettersberg, allant jusqu’aux villages de Nohra et Ulla et au Sud-Est jusqu’à la vallée de l’Ilm.36 Avec sa centaine de villages, sa ville et les 600 km² environ de son plat pays, Erfurt possédait l’un des plus grands territoires de villes dans le Saint-Empire 29 Acte de Lambert de Gleichen, de Theoderich prévôt d’A polda, du chancelier Theoderich et du conseil, 1212, in Urkundebuch der Stadt Erfurt, éd. par Carl Beyer, t. 1 (Halle : Hendel, 1889) [désormais UB I), n°72, pp. 34–36, ici p. 35 : « burgenses, quibus dispensatio reipublice eiusdem civitatis Erfordensis est credita » (« les bourgeois en charge de l’administration des affaires publiques de la ville d’Erfurt »). 30 Stephanie Wolf, Erfurt im 13. Jahrhundert: städtische Gesellschaft zwischen Mainzer Erzbischof, Adel und Reich (Cologne : Böhlau, 2005). 31 Acte de Gerlach, archevêque de Mayence, et du chapitre, 16 novembre 1354, in Urkundenbuch der Stadt Erfurt, éd. par Carl Beyer, t. 2 (Halle : Hendel, 1897), n°416, pp. 336–338. 32 Günther Röblitz, « Erfurter Münzgeschichte der Groschenperiode bis zur ersten Talerprägung 1548 », in Erfurt 742–1992, pp. 331–345. 33 StAE 0-0/A-IV. 34 Alfred Kirchhoff, Die ältesten Weisthümer der Stadt Erfurt über ihre Stellung zum Erzstift Mainz (Halle : Buchhandlung des Waisenhauses, 1870), pp. 1–30. 35 Ce qui est bien perçu par le chroniqueur, quand bien même il le restreint à la seule Gera. 36 Georg Oergel, « Das ehemalige Erfurtische Gebiet », MVGAE, 24-2, 1903, pp. 161–190 et carte horstexte. Voir aussi les figures 3 et 4.

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à la fin du Moyen Âge.37 Elle surclassait très largement les deux villes libres de Thuringe : Mühlhausen possédait dix-neuf villages, Nordhausen aucun. Les autres villes du bassin thuringien ne possédaient pas de territoire non plus. Au-delà de cette région, Erfurt était dépassée par peu de villes sur le critère du territoire. Nuremberg, ville libre majeure, possédait certes un territoire de 1 200 km² au tout début du xvie siècle, mais c’était la conséquence des gains obtenus en récompense de l’engagement de la ville aux côtés d’Albert de Bavière lors de la guerre de Succession de Landshut. Le territoire nurembergeois était auparavant inférieur de moitié, couvrant environ 600 km², comme celui d’Erfurt.38 La ville libre d’Ulm possédait environ 80 villages,39 et l’étendue de son territoire atteignait environ 830 km². Erfurt se situait donc parmi les villes les plus riches foncièrement, gouvernant un territoire étendu, et appartenait sur ce point à la catégorie des plus importantes villes de l’Empire, exception faite de Berne et ses 5 000 km² qui surpassaient de loin tous les ensembles territoriaux urbains dans l’Empire.40 L’analyse de la ville aux échelles locale et régionale nuance l’entrée par la domination seigneuriale et la dichotomie ville libre/non libre, qui réduisent un peu vite la situation des villes territoriales à des villes dominées et ne correspondent pas entièrement aux représentations spatiales des contemporains. Une ville princière pouvait aussi être une ville dominante à une autre échelle ou au sein d’un autre espace. En l’occurrence, Erfurt exerçait cette domination hors de la principauté de son seigneur : c’était aussi l’éloignement par rapport à Mayence qui le permettait, ainsi que la situation d’exclave. En effet, ce décalage géographique facilita la construction d’un espace propre à la ville, et hors du champ du seigneur. Plus encore, la ville devint elle-même un seigneur. Et selon cet autre critère de hiéarchisation des villes, Erfurt se place encore en haut de la pyramide ainsi formée, à l’échelle régionale comme à l’échelle impériale. Contrairement à Ulm et Nuremberg, cependant, Erfurt n’était pas une ville libre. Sa situation était exceptionnelle dans l’Empire : la ville excédait les limites qui étaient les siennes – limites matérielles de l’enceinte urbaine, mais aussi limites juridiques de la ville territoriale, dépassées ici par la mise en place d’un espace sous l’autorité du Conseil. Contrairement à ce que les cartes montrent dans l’historiographie, par souci de simplification et de lisibilité, ces espaces ne faisaient pas partie des possessions mayençaises mais étaient bien, sans restriction, un territoire erfurtois. Un point du territoire contribuait aussi particulièrement à cet excès : la forteresse de Kapellendorf était en effet tenue directement de l’empereur depuis un acte de Charles IV en 1352,41 ce qui permettait au Conseil de ville de se réclamer 37 Tom Scott, « The City-State in the German speaking Lands », in Politics and Reformation. Essays in honor of Thomas A. Brady Jr., éd. par Christopher Ocker et al. (Leyde : Brill, 2007), pp. 3–65. 38 Ibid. 39 Gerold Neusser, Das Territorium der Reichsstadt Ulm im 18. Jahrhundert (Ulm : Stadtarchiv, 1964). 40 Barbara Studer Immenhauser, Verwaltung zwischen Innovation und Tradition. Die Stadt Bern und ihr Untertanengebiet 1250–1550 (Ostfildern : Thorbecke, 2006). 41 Acte du 10 novembre 1352, UB I, n°396, pp. 321–323. Le même jour, Charles confirmait les privilèges de la ville (ibid., n°394) ainsi que ses possessions foncières, en fief ou non. Il prenait également sous sa protection les bourgeois d’Erfurt hors de la ville (ibid., n°395).

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d’un lien immédiat avec l’empereur. Cet élément fut exploité dans les grandes armes de la ville, qui associaient à la roue commune à l’archevêque de Mayence les quatre écus des forteresses du Conseil, dont Kapellendorf, possession libre. Ces armes étaient placées sur la façade de l’Hôtel de ville ainsi que sur le mur d’enceinte, au niveau des portes d’accès à la ville, de façon à bien proclamer l’identité politique de la ville aux yeux de tous, bourgeois et étrangers. Ce Gebiet, plat pays, était donc bien un territoire, une étendue unifiée sous une même autorité et porteuse d’une identité spécifique. Cette identité découlait d’un double mouvement d’appropriation : par le haut, comme on vient de le voir par l’action d’un Conseil de ville acquéreur, organisateur et détenteur de l’autorité. Mais aussi par le bas : on note un sentiment d’appartenance bien réel dans les communautés rurales, qui se tournaient vers la justice du Conseil en cas de conflit avec des communautés voisines placées sous l’autorité d’un autre seigneur.42 Ce faisant, elles se revendiquaient bien d’une appartenance et d’une identité erfurtoises, d’un espace spécifique qui n’est pas la principauté mayençaise ni la sphère d’influence saxonne. La ville d’Erfurt avait la capacité d’agencer « des ressources matérielles et symboliques capables de structurer les conditions pratiques de l’existence […] d’un collectif social et d’informer en retour […] ce collectif sur sa propre identité».43 Créateur d’un espace, le Conseil d’Erfurt était en même temps créateur de la ville, comme espace particulier et porteur d’une identité revendiquée par les habitants, espace dont les éléments peuvent être décrits et sont bornés, espace excédant les murs. Le détour par l’échelle du territoire invite en effet à définir autrement ce qu’est la ville. Erfurt ici, comme acteur politique autant que comme construction territoriale, ce n’est pas simplement l’intra-muros mais tout l’espace régi par le Conseil de ville, émanation politique d’une commune. La hiérarchie des villes change avec ce changement de perspective. Si la ville n’est plus simplement un point délimité par ses murailles, mais l’ensemble du territoire sous l’autorité d’un gouvernement municipal, alors Erfurt est parmi les plus grandes. La compréhension politique de la ville élargit l’espace concerné : Erfurt, c’est de l’urbain (la ville-centre) et du non urbain aussi (le plat pays), placés tous deux sous l’autorité d’une même institution et doté d’une même identité visuelle par les grandes armes de la ville.44 Le critère morphologique traditionnel de la

42 StAE 1-0/B-III, 24, dossiers n°1, fols 1–7, et n°6 : conflits frontaliers avec les seigneurs de Witzeleben zu Berka ; StAE 1-0/B-XI, dossier n°5, conflits frontaliers avec les officiers saxons d’Ichterhausen. 43 Bernard Debarbieux, « Territoire », in Dictionnaire de la géographie et de l’espace des sociétés, éd. par Jacques Lévy et Michel Lussault (Paris : Belin, 2013²), pp. 999–1000. Voir aussi les travaux de Léonard Dauphant sur la France, notamment « Frontière idéelle et marqueurs territoriaux du royaume des Quatre rivières (France, 1258-1529) », in Entre idéel et matériel. Espace, pouvoir et légitimation du pouvoir (v. 1200-1600), éd. par. Patrick Boucheron, Marco Folin et Jean-Philippe Genet, Paris, Sorbonne, 2018, p. 313-328. 44 Cette combinaison d’urbain et de non-urbain dans la ville médiévale se retrouve d’ailleurs dans l’espace intra-muros, comme l’a montré H. Noizet pour Tours. Hélène Noizet, « La fabrique urbaine de Tours : une analyse dialectique entre sociétés et espaces urbains (ixe-xiiie siècle) », in Voisinages, coexistences, appropriations. Groupes sociaux et territoires urbains (Moyen Âge–16e siècle), éd. par Chloé Deligne et Claire Billen (Turnhout : Brepols, 2007), pp. 19–38 ; Ead., « La ville au Moyen

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définition des villes occidentales médiévales, le mur d’enceinte, est insuffisant pour situer Erfurt dans la hiérarchie des villes. 3. Réseau et hiérarchie à l’échelle locale La construction d’un espace urbain est donc aussi un élément perturbant la hiérarchie attendue, une échappatoire hors de l’emprise du seigneur. Par son action sur l’espace, la ville remettait ainsi en cause la domination seigneuriale en construisant un territoire et un réseau hors de la sphère du seigneur. La catégorisation ville libre/ non libre occulte cette dimension et se révèle donc trop rapide pour saisir la réalité de la place d’Erfurt dans la hiérarchie des villes et des territoires du Saint-Empire. A l’échelle régionale, on observe l’action du Conseil sur l’espace notamment par le biais des conduits, taxes et douanes mis en place, et des exemptions ou privilèges accordés. Erfurt était stratégiquement placée au croisement de routes commerciales majeures à toutes les échelles. Les deux principaux axes étaient la via regia longitudinale de la vallée du Rhin aux régions slaves, et la voie NordSud reliant les ports de la mer du Nord aux Alpes et à l’Italie, par Nuremberg.45 Le tableau du conduit dressé en 1441, déjà évoqué, ne nous donne pas simplement des informations sur les marchandises produites et échangées à Erfurt.46 Le cœur du document est de rappeler les diverses taxes frappant ces marchandises, et d’en fixer les exemptions. Ces exemptions sont liées à des espaces plus qu’à des types de produits : sont exemptés de taxes les convois venant de certains lieux, ou se rendant à certains autres. Ce document avait une finalité pratique très lisible : il est construit comme un manuel à l’usage des agents du conduit, sous forme de questions-réponses qui récapitulent les cas particuliers et les problèmes qui pouvaient se poser aux agents. Le but de l’auteur était donc de compiler et clarifier les taxes prélevées et les privilèges accordés. L’organisation qui s’y lit ne concerne pas que le plat pays erfurtois, mais bien l’ensemble du bassin thuringien. Le conduit organisait l’espace autour d’Erfurt en différentes zones, dessinant ainsi des gradients spatiaux autour de la ville, en suivant les axes routiers et les pôles reliés par ces routes. Outre qu’il situait ainsi Erfurt dans un ensemble plus vaste en reliant la ville à d’autres, le tableau du conduit montrait aussi comment le territoire était remodelé par les agents fiscaux. En effet, ces derniers listaient des taxes ou des exemptions, mais ils faisaient aussi obligation à certains marchands, en fonction de leur chargement, de leur provenance ou de leur destination, de payer le conduit à Erfurt et de passer par la ville. Erfurt est ainsi érigée en pôle Âge et à l’époque moderne. Du lieu réticulaire au lieu territorial », EspaceTemps.net [en ligne], 2014, disponible sur http://www.espacestemps.net/articles/la-ville-au-moyen-Âge-et-a-lepoquemoderne/ (consulté le 3 décembre 2016). 45 Friedrich Bruns et Hugo Weczerka, Hansische Handelsstraßen, t. 1 Atlas, t. 2 Textband, t. 3 Registerband (Cologne : Böhlau, 1962, 1967 et 1968) ; Klaus Friedland, « Erfurt im Fernhandelssystem der Hanse », in Erfurt. Geschichte und Gegenwart, éd. par Ulman Weiß (Weimar : Böhlau, 1995), pp. 433– 438 ; Luise Gerbing, « Erfurter Handel und Handelstrassen », MVGAE, 21, 1900, pp. 95–148. 46 Geleitstafel, fols clxviv/179v-clxxiiv/185v.

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Figure 3. Carte du bassin thuringien47

organisateur et percepteur.  L’espace marchand s’en trouve ainsi remodelé au profit de la ville. Ainsi, les denrées rapportées de Hollande et transportées au-delà d’Erfurt vers l’Est, celles apportées de la Franconie et en route vers les villes hanséatiques, les marchandises traversant la Forêt thuringienne ou les convois de cuivre vers Eisenach, à l’Est d’Erfurt, faisaient ainsi l’objet de taxes au titre du conduit, quand bien même les marchands ne passaient ni par la ville, ni par son territoire, ni par ses voies.48 La ville captait ainsi, au moins fiscalement, des flux marchands : le Conseil opérait une captation de l’espace alentour, même hors de son territoire, autour de la ville. Les processus de territorialisation ne passaient pas que par le contrôle politique, mais aussi par l’organisation de l’espace économique et commercial. L’espace construit par le conduit échappait aux frontières politiques, nombreuses dans un espace marqué par la division entre maisons princières. Ce n’était pas le plat pays d’Erfurt, qui était moins vaste. C’était un autre espace, correspondant grosso modo au bassin thuringien. Les flux exemptés de taxes sont bornés par les grands cadres physiques du bassin : la Forêt thuringienne au Sud et au Sud-Ouest, le massif du Harz au Nord, la vallée de la Saale à l’Est. 47

47 Ibid., fol. clxixv/182v. 48 Elop, wikipedia creative commons, https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Datei:Naturraumkarte_Thueringer_ Becken.png (licence creative commons, Attribution 3.0 Unported (CC BY 3.0)).

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Figure 4. Carte politique du bassin thuringien du xie siècle à la fin du Moyen Âge49

On peut alors revenir sur la désignation d’Erfurt comme « capitale de la Thuringe ». Cela ne s’explique pas seulement par la construction territoriale et la richesse de la ville, ou par la macrocéphalie erfurtoise dans le bassin thuringien. C’était aussi le résultat des actions du Conseil sur les pratiques marchandes. Les flux commerciaux et la fiscalité furent organisés et encadrés par le Conseil de façon à produire un espace soumis à l’influence de la ville, alors même qu’il était hors de son territoire politique.49 Les partenariats et les liens privilégiés servaient à capter des flux commerciaux et à placer la ville au centre des échanges et circulation en Thuringe, pour en faire le cœur battant, la force organisatrice et centripète, qui densifiait l’étendue géographique en y construisant un espace économique fait de relations entre villes et entre hommes. Le « pays » évoqué par le chroniqueur n’était donc pas qu’un espace agricole organisé et contrôlé par la ville : c’était un ensemble régional construit par des liens et flux polarisés par le Conseil de ville et les marchands d’Erfurt. C’était le territoire erfurtois sous l’autorité de la ville, mais aussi la région polarisée économiquement et fiscalement par la ville. Les taxations et exemptions énumérées dans le conduit 49 Détail de la carte 12 « Germany at the accession of Charles V », in The Cambridge Modern History Atlas, éd. par Sir Adolphus William Ward, G.W. Prothero, Sir Stanley Mordaunt Leathes, et E.A. Benians (Londres : Cambridge University Press, 1912). Numérisation : collection de cartes de la Perry-Castañeda Library, Université du Texas, https://legacy.lib.utexas.edu/maps/historical/ ward_1912/germany_charles_v_1519.jpg.

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formaient bien une région autour d’Erfurt, une région comme un espace vécu, l’espace d’usage des acteurs, l’espace de leur expérience concrète inscrite dans une étendue physique définie.50 Ces relations entre la société et cette étendue, l’« ensemble des interrelations sociales spatiales »,51 sont organisées par le Conseil d’Erfurt autour et au profit de la ville : la région n’existe que grâce à ces interrelations. Il existe enfin une autre traduction politique de cette place d’Erfurt comme organisatrice d’un ensemble à l’échelle régionale. La ville était membre de la ligue des Trois villes de Thuringe avec les deux villes libres de Mühlhausen et de Nordhausen, au nord et au nord-ouest d’Erfurt.52 Là encore, la frontière entre villes libres et non-libres disparaît dans la réalité des pratiques médiévales : Erfurt agissait à égalité avec ses deux partenaires. Le fonctionnement de la ligue est assez mal connu, car il reposait beaucoup sur l’oralité. On a en effet de nombreuses lettres fixant des rencontres, mais aucune trace de ce qui fut décidé ou fait lors des rencontres en question. La ligue fut renouvelée en 1469 pour la dernière fois, et disparut donc au terme de la période fixée de treize ans, en 1482. La disparition de cette ligue coïncida avec un déclin erfurtois mais est sans doute davantage à expliquer par le déclin global des villes dans le Saint-Empire par rapport aux princes. Le rôle des villes, et leurs prétentions, dans le maintien de la paix publiques, se réduisit considérablement au profit de la force armée des princes, laïques ou ecclésiastiques.53 4. La production d’un espace urbain à l’échelle impériale Le chroniqueur ne dépasse pas ce cadre régional, situé explicitement par le titre : les villes qui retiennent son attention sont avant tout celles de l’Allemagne moyenne – et probablement celles qu’il connaît dans son expérience quotidienne. La reprise des topoï sur la centralité erfurtoise jusqu’à notre chroniqueur saxon était aussi la transcription d’un espace perçu, c’est-à-dire d’un espace de l’expérience, de l’usage et des pratiques.54 Mais pour observer la place d’Erfurt dans une hiérarchie urbaine, il faut aussi sortir de ce cadre régional pour se pencher sur l’échelle impériale. Au sein du Saint-Empire, le Conseil d’Erfurt avait de multiples partenaires, que l’on retrouve dans la correspondance des conseillers,55 et qui étaient aussi bien des 50 Armand Frémont, La Région, espace vécu (Paris : PUF, 1976). 51 Ibid. 52 Werner Mägdefrau, Der Thüringer Städtebund im Mittelalter (Weimar : Böhlau, 1977) et Id., Thüringen im Mittelalter, t. 7 Thüringer Städte und Städtebünde im Mittelalter (Bad Langensalza : Rockstuhl, 20103). 53 Karl H. Burmeister, « Alliances urbaines », in Dictionnaire historique de la Suisse [en ligne] (Berne : Fondation DHS, 1998–2017), disponible sur http://www.hls-dhs-dss.ch/textes/f/F26420.php (consulté le 3 décembre 2016) ; Eva-Marie Distler, Städtebünde im deutschen Spätmittelalter. Eine rechtshistorische Untersuchung zu Begriff, Verfassung und Funktion (Francfort/Main : Kloestermann, 2006) ; Pierre Monnet, « Communes et ligues urbaines », in Dictionnaire du monde germanique, éd. par Élisabeth Décultot, Michel Espagne et Jacques Le Rider (Paris : Bayard, 2007), p. 205. 54 Henri Lefebvre, La Production de l’espace (Paris : Anthropos, 20004), p. 48 sq. 55 Cette correspondance est conservée dans des registres dont le plus ancien date de 1427. Ils se divisent en deux séries, celles des libri dominorum pour la correspondance avec des seigneurs, et celles des libri communium pour la correspondance avec des Conseils de ville. Les registres sont autant des

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villes libres que territoriales : ce critère n’est pas pertinent ici. Dans un premier temps, la cartographie de ces relations épistolaires recouvre la cartographie des routes du commerce, ce qui semble logique au regard des motifs principaux de la correspondance. La correspondance des conseillers était toujours le résultat d’un problème à résoudre, impliquant une personne dépendant d’Erfurt – bourgeois, membre d’une communauté rurale ou juif. Il pouvait s’agir d’un différent commercial, d’une dispute d’héritage, d’une attaque sur les routes, d’un rançonnage ou, dans les cas les plus graves, d’un meurtre ou de l’incendie d’un village. Au contraire des conseillers de Nuremberg,56 les conseillers erfurtois n’écrivaient jamais de lettres destinées à entretenir une relation d’alliance, pour réassurer de leur amitié ; les conseillers erfurtois n’envoyaient jamais de dons ; jamais, dans cette correspondance, ils n’apparaissent comme polarisant un réseau de villes. Les motifs et les rythmes de la correspondance ne montrent pas une hiérarchie, mais un rhizome, dans lequel la ville non libre d’Erfurt était le partenaire égal des autres villes, libres ou non, du Saint-Empire. On peut cartographier un peu plus finement le réseau toutefois en pondérant les villes selon le volume de lettres reçues. La grande majorité des lettres envoyées par Erfurt était destinée à Nuremberg ou aux villes de Lusace, ce qui reflète les liens commerciaux privilégiés avec ces villes. Nuremberg, ville majeure du commerce dans l’Empire, était la place redistributrice des biens vers le Sud de l’Allemagne et l’Italie. Les premiers partenaires des négociants erfurtois étaient des maisons de négoces nurembergeoises.57 Les villes de Lusace étaient les partenaires d’Erfurt dans le cadre du commerce de la guède. Il s’agit toutefois plus d’une différenciation entre les villes que d’une hiérarchie, différenciation qui reflète les liens et pratiques commerciales plus qu’elle n’établit de relation de supériorité entre les villes. Toutefois, le contenu ou le volume des lettres n’épuisent pas la compréhension de la correspondance. La communication, comme la représentation, passe aussi par des marqueurs formels. Si l’on observe l’écriture des missives, on perçoit bien une hiérarchie urbaine, construite et reconnue par les villes elles-mêmes et non le simple fait d’un classement a posteriori par l’historien. Les formules d’adresse utilisées par les correspondants montrent ainsi comment les villes se percevaient elles-mêmes et entre elles, et construisaient par le discours un espace réticulaire bien structuré.58 instruments de conservation que d’élaboration et de nombreuses lettres portent les traces des corrections apportées au brouillon, ce qui en fait aussi des documents précieux pour l’étude des processus d’écriture et de prise de décision. StAE 1-1/XXI/1a-1a t. 1–3, 1-1/XXI/1a-1b t. 1–3, et 1–1/ XXI/1b-1b t. 1-4 pour la période médiévale. 56 Laurence Buchholzer-Rémy, Une Ville en ses réseaux. Nuremberg à la fin du Moyen Âge (Paris : Belin, 2006). 57 Ralf Endres « Die wirtschaftlichen Beziehungen zwischen Erfurt und Nürnberg », in Erfurt. Geschichte und Gegenwart, pp. 471–482. 58 Sur la rhétorique épistolaire médiévale, voir : Giles Constable, Letters and Letter-collections (Turnhout : Brepols, 1976) ; H. Hoffmann, « Zur mittelalterlichen Brieftechnik », in Spiegel der Geschichte: Festgabe für Max Braubach, éd. par Konrad Repgen et Stephan Skalweit (Münster : Aschendorff, 1964), pp. 141–170 ; Jean Leclercq, « Le genre épistolaire au Moyen Âge », Revue

le r éseau erfurtois à la fin du moyen âg e Tableau n°1 : Plus ou moins chers amis d’Erfurt5960

Groupes de correspondants Groupe 1 : Nuremberg, Francfort/ Main, Lübeck, Ratisbonne, Cologne, Breslau,60 Lunebourg, Wurtzbourg, Görlitz, Trêves Ulm (1485, t. 2, f. 182v)

Salutation unseren fruntlichen willigen dinst [notre service amical et dévoué] Unser fruntlich wilig dinst allezeit in vleis [notre service amical, toujours plein de zèle]

Formule d’adresse fursichtige und ersame wiese besundern liebe und gute frunde [très chers et bons amis, prudents, honorables et sages] Ersam fursichtig und wiese besundern gute frunde [très bons amis, honorables, prudents et sages] Groupe 2 : Soest, Spire, Rothenbourg/ unseren fruntlichen dinst fursichtige und ersame Taube, Nördlingen, Halle [notre service amical] wiese besundern gute frunde [très bons amis, prudents, honorables et sages] Groupe 3a : Gotha, Eschwege, unseren fruntlichen dinst Ersame und wiese Göttingen, Leipzig, Creutzbourg, [notre service amical] besundern gute frunde Weissensee, Salza, Eisenach, Halle, [très bons amis, Schweinfurt, Saalfeld, Sangerhausen, honorables et sages] Magdebourg, Einbeck, Dresde, Franckenhausen, Halberstadt Dantzig, Egra, Smalkalde, Brandebourg, Remda, Eckersberg, Querfurt, Buttstedt, Kindelbrücken, Kamentz, Duderstadt Apolda, Zörbig, Chemnitz, Wernigerode, Kassel, Heidessfelt, Ordorff, Fortheim, Kitzingen, Eibeck, Weimar, Naumbourg Groupe 3b : Heiligenstadt, Fulda unseren fruntlichen dinst Ersame und weise [notre service amical] besundern liebe und gute frunde [très chers et bons amis, honorables et sage]

du Moyen Âge latin, 2, 1946, pp. 63–70 ; Georg Steinhausen, Geschichte des deutschen Briefes: zur Kulturgeschichte des deutschen Volkes, 2 vol. (Berlin : Gaertner, 1889 et 1891). Sur les formulaires : Martin Camargo, Ars dictaminis, ars dictandi (Turnhout : Brepols, 1991) ; Le “dictamen” dans tous ses états : perspectives de recherche sur la théorie et la pratique de l’“ars dictaminis” (xie-xve siècles), éd. par Benoît Grévin et Anne-Marie Turcan-Verkerk (Turnhout : Brepols, 2015). 59 D’après StAE 1-1/XXI/1b-1b, t. 1–4 (1472–1480, 1483–1487, 1501–1506, 1509–1511). Pour une étude plus fine des formules d’adresse erfurtoises, je me permets de renvoyer à M. Coquelin, « La prudence et l’amitié. Politique et imaginaire urbains au miroir de la correspondance erfurtoise », in I. Draelants et Chr. Balouzat-Loubet (dir.), La formule au Moyen Âge II / Formulas in Medieval Culture II (Turnhout : Brepols, 2015), p. 35–60. 60 Je conserve ici le nom médiéval de la ville, aujourd’hui Wrocław.

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Groupes de correspondants Groupe 4a : Neuenstadt/Orla, Nordheim, Meissen, Passau, Oschatz, Arnstadt, Göteborg, Pöβneck, Luckau, Strelen, Innsbruck, Tusla, Eistett, Salzbourg, Waltershausen, Plaue, Spangenberg, Helmstadt Groupe 4b : Königssee, Weida, Gera Groupe 5 : Mühlhausen, Nordhausen Groupe 6a : Kölleda, Neuenmarkt Groupe 6b : Waltershausen Kölleda Groupe 6c : Lützen

Salutation unseren fruntlichen dinst [notre service amical]

Formule d’adresse Ersame und weise gute frunde [bons amis, honorables et sages]

Ersame gute frunde [bons amis honorables] liebe frunde [chers amis]

unseren dinst [notre service] unseren dinst [notre Ersame lute [honorables service] gens] unseren fruntlichen dinst Ersame lute [honorables [notre service amical] gens] unseren fruntlichen gruss Ersame lute [honorables [notre salut amical] gens]

Ces formules ne comportent que peu d’éléments : le degré d’amitié et les qualités des amis à qui l’on écrivait. On pouvait être un simple ami, un bon ami, un très bon ami, un très bon et cher ami. Le répertoire des qualités de l’ami urbain était limité à la prudence, l’honorabilité et la sagesse, mais ce qui faisait la variété du monde urbain, c’était la combinaison des qualités. Peu de correspondants étaient à la fois honorables, prudents et sages ; il s’agissait des amis les plus proches et les plus chers. On peut ainsi distinguer six cercles d’amitié dans la correspondance avec les villes extérieures au territoire d’Erfurt, cercles dont certains connaissent également des subdivisions. L’écriture des lettres produisait ainsi un classement des villes. Ces formules sont le signe le plus clair d’une hiérarchie dans les sources dont on dispose pour Erfurt. Peu de lettres reçues ont été conservées,61 mais elles permettent de confronter la hiérarchie établie par les conseillers d’Erfurt dans leurs envois à la perception de l’espace urbain de leurs correspondants, dans les envois adressés au Conseil erfurtois. On y constate que le réseau tel qu’il apparaît dans les missives erfurtoises n’est pas une vue, un espoir d’Erfurt, mais une organisation reconnue en miroir par les autres villes. Les niveaux d’amitié étaient présentés de façon similaire par l’émetteur et son destinataire : les protestations d’amitié d’Erfurt envers des villes importantes du Saint-Empire n’étaient pas une marque de déférence d’Erfurt. Cette hiérarchie pouvait varier dans le temps : une ville pouvait ainsi devenir une meilleure amie – plus proche et/ou dotée de plus de qualités – ou au contraire chuter dans la hiérarchie. Les conseillers de Leipzig, « très bons amis, honorables et sages », deviennent ainsi au début des années 1500 de « très 61 StAE 1-1/Ia-11.

le r éseau erfurtois à la fin du moyen âg e

bons amis, prudents, honorables et sages », puis sont après 1505 de « très chers et bons amis, prudents, honorables et sages ». Au contraire, les conseillers de Naumbourg passent du même groupe à celui des simples « bons amis, honorables et sages », à partir de 1505.62 Ces variations n’avaient rien à voir avec les statuts juridiques : une ville n’était pas une amie plus chère, ou plus sage, parce qu’elle était libre. La hiérarchie à l’œuvre ici était d’une autre nature : plus une ville était importante – riche, puissante, ce qui était le cas de nombreuses villes territoriales – plus elle était une amie proche et qualifiée. Ou du moins, plus le Conseil d’Erfurt revendiquait une amitié proche et solide avec les conseillers de cette ville. Ils écrivaient et réécrivaient ainsi sans cesse la hiérarchie des villes du Saint-Empire, et l’actualisaient dans chaque échange. Conclusion Le chroniqueur saxon anonyme reprenait ainsi au xviie siècle, non sans admiration, ce qui était déjà devenu un topos du portrait erfurtois : la population nombreuse, la richesse du sol et partant celle de la ville. Il reprenait l’idée de ville-centre avec le titre de « capitale d’un pays », non capitale de la Thuringe mais bien capitale du pays erfurtois, jamais défini, qui semble limité au territoire de la ville (celui où est établi la « communauté paysanne ») mais qui pourrait aussi bien être plus large, si la ville avait l’influence que l’auteur lui prêtait, ville à nulle autre pareille en Allemagne centrale et qui ne peut se comparer qu’à la grande Venise. Les deux arguments de l’ancienneté historique, appuyée par l’autorité des recherches savantes, et de la position spatiale se renforçaient l’un l’autre ici pour définir une ville extraordinaire – alors même qu’elle n’était plus au faîte de sa puissance.63 Cette description reflète bien à la fois la complexité de la situation erfurtoise, selon l’échelle et le critère retenus pour analyser et caractériser la ville, mais aussi la multiplicité des visages d’une ville. Fait administratif, fait démographique, fait politique, fait territorial, fait socio-économique, la ville médiévale n’est pas moins que la ville contemporaine le lieu de la diversité et de la densité.64 La hiérarchie urbaine ne peut donc s’établir qu’en observant les différents critères et en les combinant. La hiérarchie était produite tout ensemble par l’économie, la démographie, l’influence politique, la puissance militaire, ce qui permettait à des villes non libres comme Erfurt de monter dans la hiérarchie des villes du Saint-Empire sans disposer d’une proximité avec l’empereur. Si le critère juridique de la différenciation entre villes libres et non libres est

62 StAE 1-1/xx/1b-1b, t. 1–4. 63 La ville connut une grave crise économique et politique à la fin du xve siècle, qui culmina avec la banqueroute et la révolte urbaine de 1509–1510. Theodor Neubauer, Das tolle Jahr von Erfurt (Weimar : Thüringer Volksverlag, 1948). 64 Jacques Lévy, « Ville », in Dictionnaire de la géographie et de l’espace des sociétés, pp. 1078-1081.

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souvent prédominant dans l’historiographie, il n’est que peu mis en avant dans les sources. Le poids économique et démographique est en revanche un critère commun aux médiévaux et aux historiens, sociologues et géographes : les villes sont des lieux qui regroupent un certain nombre d’habitants et d’activités et qui se gouvernent eux-mêmes. Varier les critères et les échelles d’analyse permet notamment de décaler le regard hors du couple centre-périphérie, qui est peu opérant pour décrire la place d’Erfurt dans le monde urbain dans toute sa complexité. La puissance du topos mis en place à l’époque médiévale imprégna pourtant les représentations sur la longue durée. La notion de « capitale » en particulier connut une fortune remarquable, malgré les paradoxes qu’elle contient : la ville pouvait bien être centre de son territoire, mais comment pouvait-elle, ville territoriale soumise à Mayence, être capitale d’un pays ? Comment pourrait-elle, ville « de tout temps sous la protection des ducs de Saxe », prétendre à ce rang de lieu organisateur de tout le Bassin thuringien ? Ce sont peut-être justement ces paradoxes qui ont fait le succès du terme dans toute l’historiographie erfurtoise, jusqu’au xxe siècle. Le couple site/situation expliquait la richesse de la ville et son rôle de nœud commercial, la position juridique n’étant pas le critère principal ; au contraire, pour les historiens du xixe siècle, la centralité erfurtoise était un motif de satisfaction en raison de l’émancipation – relative – qu’elle avait accompagnée et rendue possible. La question de la centralité erfurtoise ne se posait dès lors jamais ; elle était admise comme allant de soi et la notion n’était ni remise en question, ni interrogée ni même définie.65 La tension dans la relation à Mayence et la complexité de la position erfurtoise, pas totalement émancipée et plus totalement sujette, sont ainsi largement impensées dans l’historiographie erfurtoise qui s’est concentrée sur les succès médiévaux de la ville. Cette écriture d’une conquête urbaine a marqué ensuite l’historiographie bourgeoise du xixe siècle. Or Erfurt ne fut pas qu’un pôle créateur de centralité. Cette position centrale était aussi accompagnée, renforcée ou concurrencée par d’autres types de relation à l’espace extérieur à la ville, dont la forme et la hiérarchie pouvaient différer. En outre, la centralité implique un rapport de domination : l’étude des constructions spatiales de la ville à différentes échelles montre qu’il existait des dominations et d’autres modèles de rapport à l’autre, notamment le réseau. Enfin, la hiérarchie se construisait aussi par les représentations qu’en avaient et qu’en donnaient les Conseils de ville et les citadins. Il faut donc, pour décrire précisément la hiérarchie, combiner tous ces critères et varier les échelles, 65 La centralité erfurtoise est aujourd’hui utilisée comme argument publicitaire pour le tourisme, avec le slogan « Rendezvous in der Mitte Deutschlands » et des phrases comme « Eine der schönsten Städte, zentral gelegen, wächst und entwickelt sich weiter zur attraktiven Mitte Deutschlands » [« une des plus belles villes, à la situation centrale, grandit et continue à se développer comme le centre attractif de l’Allemagne »], site de la ville d’Erfurt [en ligne], disponible sur http://www.erfurt.de/ef/de/ (consulté le 18 février 2015). Il est d’autant plus intéressant de souligner que la centralité erfurtoise ne trouva une traduction politique qu’en 1948, lorsque la capitale du Land de Thuringe y fut établie, et que ce choix fut avant tout un rejet de Weimar, en raison de l’échec de la République de Weimar.

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sans se limiter aux modèles théoriques. Produite par les représentations, cette hiérarchie était donc pour une part virtuelle, et devait être réactualisée sans cesse par les discours, écrits ou figurés, dont l’étude nous montre la hiérarchie telle qu’elle apparaissait aux yeux des médiévaux. C’est l’étude de ces perceptions et représentations des acteurs du passé qui nous montre aussi que la hiérarchie était une construction, un véritable espace vécu, un espace composé des pratiques et interactions socio-spatiales, mais aussi des représentations et perceptions à différentes échelles, projetées sur l’espace et lui donnant son épaisseur sociale et politique.66

66 Henri Lefebvre, La Production de l’espace, 48 sq.

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Andrea Gamberini 

Urban Hierarchies in the Heart of the Po Valley (12th–15th century) Persistence and Change* 1. The question Shortly after the mid-twelfth century Otto, Bishop of Freising and uncle of Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, identified the extraordinary development of the Italic cities and their domination over the surrounding territory as being their key characteristic, a distinctive mark that set them apart from urban phenomena in other areas of Europe. The learned churchman wrote in a famous passage of his chronicle: Ex quo fit ut, tota illa terra inter civitates ferme divisa, singulae ad commanendum secum diocesanos compulerint, vixque aliquis nobilis vel vir magnus tam magno ambitu inveniri queat, qui civitatis suae non sequatur imperium. Consueverunt autem singuli singula territoria ex hac comminandi potestate comitatus suos appellare.1 Adding, a little later: Ex quo factum est, ut caeteris orbis civitatibus divitiis et potentia longe premineant.2 Indeed, the Bishop of Freising was not the only one to note this unique Italian feature during those decades. A contemporary traveller, the Icelandic Abbot Nikulás of Munkathvera, described the semi-urban nature of many of the smallest settlements, giving – as Arnold Esch stated – ‘the impression that in Italy there were no Dörfer, the characteristic villages north of the Alps’.3



* Translated by Lucinda Byatt, Edinburgh. 1 ‘It follows that, given that the land is subdivided among the cities, each of them obliges those living in the diocese to stay on its side, and it is rare to find any noble or other important person in the whole territory who does not obey the orders of the cities. They have also acquired the custom of calling these territories their “comitati”.’ Ottonis et Rahewini Gesta Friderici I imperatoris, ed. by Georg Waitz, B. Bernhard von Simson (Hannover-Leipzig: impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1912; repr. 1969), pp. 116–17. 2 ‘As a result, they [that is the Italic cities] are by far richer and more powerful than any other city in the world’. Ottonis et Rahewini, pp. 116–17. 3 This was noted by Arnold Esch, ‘La società urbana: Italia e Germania a confronto’, in L’Italia alla fine del Medioevo: i caratteri originari nel quadro europeo, ed. by Francesco Salvestrini, 2 vols. (Firenze: FUP, 2006), I, pp. 57–74, 58. For the diary of the abbot of Munkathvera, see Renato Stopani, Le grandi vie di pellegrinaggio del Medioevo. Le strade per Roma (Poggibonsi: Centro Studi Romei, 1986), pp. 63–72. Andrea Gamberini • University of Milan Urban Hierarchy: The interaction between towns and cities in Europe in Late Medieval and Early Modern Times, ed. by María Asenjo-González, Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan & Andrea Zorzi, Studies in European Urban History (1100–1800) 53 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 73-88.

© FHG

DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.124663

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This reference to a pattern of settlement in Italy that was widely dominated by urban centres is a recurrent feature of many later travel accounts (we need only recall here the description by Jacques Signot or the mémoires of Philippe de Commynes),4 and foreign observers were also struck by the fact that in the peninsula political space continued to be concentrated in towns and cities. As the jurist Andreas Knichen explained, on the cusp of the seventeenth century, whereas in Germany the term territorium was used either for a duchy or for a principality (pro ducatu, principatu dicimus), in Italy it continued to be used more specifically to indicate an urban district.5 From a comparative point of view, the principal difference between the political panorama and the pattern of settlement north and south of the Alps can undoubtedly be found in these elements, representing a genuine difference that persisted throughout the late Middle Ages and well into the Early Modern Period. The exceptional strength of the urban network and the permanence of territorial institutions centred on the city – in other words the two aspects most frequently noted by foreign observers – risk concealing a third element, namely the extraordinary complexity of the urban phenomenon, whose manifestations were anything but uniform. Although they shared the same longing for self-government, Italian civitates were profoundly diverse with regard to the nature of their economy, their size and population. Medium-small centres – at least by Italian standards – shared with genuine metropolises the title of civitas, which applied to all settlements, including bishoprics, irrespective of size.6 But even at a political level, the formal independence of each city corresponded in practice to a different degree of influence on the political chessboard, and some centres achieved the status of key players while others were relegated to a supporting role. The aim of this article is to examine the urban hierarchies produced in the Po Valley, the heart of the so-called ‘Italy of cities’, in order to define its characteristics and, above all, the salient transformations during the closing centuries of the Middle Ages as city-states were superseded by the regional state. 2. The communal era By the mid-twelfth century – as noted by Otto of Freising – each city held sway over the entire diocesan territory, speciously renamed comitatus, a term



4 On the tendency of both authors to indicate as cités or villes centres which by Italian standards were at most villages (borghi), see Giorgio Chittolini, L’Italia delle civitates. Grandi e piccoli centri fra Medioevo e Rinascimento (Roma: Viella, 2015), p. 19. For greater detail refer to Jacques Signot, La totale et vraie description de tous les passaiges, lieux & destroictz: par lesquelz on peut passer et entrer des Gaules es Ytalies (Parisius: Toussaint Denys, 1518), and to Philippe de Commynes, Mémoires, critical edition by Joel Blanchard, I-II (Geneve: Libraire Droz, 2007). 5 Knichen also observed that ‘castra apud nos non subjciuntur civitatibus ut in Italia’. The passage is cited by Marino Berengo, L’Europa delle città. Il volto della società urbana europea tra Medioevo e Età moderna (Torino: Einaudi, 1999), p. 112. 6 Michele Pellegrini, Vescovo e città. Una relazione nel medioevo italiano (secoli II-XIV) (Milano: Pearson Mondadori, 2009).

urban hierarchies in the heart of the po valley (12th–15th century)

that emphasised the idea of a legitimate succession from the commune to the count in matters concerning the government of a public district.7 Given the firmly established nature of lay and ecclesiastical lords in rural areas, in this early phase of their expansion urban communes were content to exercise what amounted to indirect dominion, namely to rely on the control of strategically important points (road intersections, castles, river ports) and on a large number of bilateral agreements with local authorities, to which the commune itself granted tax privileges and modest jurisdictional prerogatives in exchange for recognition of its primacy.8 Even simply with regard to territorial control, an overview of the different cities in the twelfth century reveals striking variations, helping to outline what was already an initial and noticeable differentiation among urban centres. While some still tried, not without difficulty, to assert their authority over the surrounding countryside, others were intent on projecting their dominion well beyond the boundaries of the contado, resulting in disputes and clashes with neighbouring communes. Among the cities most committed to pursuing ambitious plans of territorial hegemony, Milan, formerly the late Imperial capital, had not only kept abreast of the fortunes of nearby Pavia (elected capital of first the Lombard kingdom, then the Italic one) but had also experienced extraordinary growth, also in political terms, under the auspices of the Ambrosian church (for a long time it was the only city ranked as a metropolitan bishopric in the whole of the Po Valley). Moreover, in the mid-eleventh century the archbishop of Milan, Ariberto d’Intimiano, was without doubt the most powerful lord of the Italic kingdom, as Emperor Henry III himself openly acknowledged in a diploma, where he described the Ambrosian prelate as follows: ‘Omne regnum italicum ad suum disponebat nutum’.9 Such success was not only bolstered by the riches and temporal power of the Ambrosian church, which stretched from the Po river delta to the Upper Ticino valley, in present-day Switzerland, along an axis that in some ways foreshadowed the future expansion of the Milanese state. The archbishop’s role was above all supported by the Milanese themselves, buoyed by their demographic and economic influence. By the mid-twelfth century, it was thanks to these factors that the commune of Milan began its rapid ascent, enabling it within a short space of time to dominate not only its contado – undoubtedly one of the largest in Italy, covering 4–5,000 square kilometres compared to an average of 2,500 square kilometres10 – but also to expand its influence over neighbouring cities. 7 Giuliano Milani, I comuni italiani. Secoli XII-XV (Roma-Bari: Laterza, 2005), pp. 38–39. 8 Giovanni Tabacco, The Struggle for Power in Medieval Italy: Structures of Political Rule (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). 9 Graziano Alfredo Vergani, ‘Omne regnum italicum ad suum disponebat nutum: Ariberto d’Intimiano, vescovo guerriero e committente’, Il Crocifisso di Ariberto, catalogo della mostra, ed. by Ernesto Brivio (Cinisello Balsamo: Silvana Editoriale, 1997) pp. 47–56. 10 Giorgio Chittolini, ‘Cities, City-States, and Regional States in North-Central Italy’, Theory and Society, 18–5 (Sep., 1989), pp. 689–706.

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Lodi, which was seen as an obstacle to commerce along the Lambro river, was first destroyed by the Milanese in 1111 (despite reinforcements provided by Pavia and Cremona) and again in 1158, while 1118 signalled the start of a ten-year war against Como for control of the Alpine passes.11 It was not a coincidence that first the bishop of Como (1153) and later a group of merchants from Lodi (1154) denounced the aggression of the Milanese to Frederick Barbarossa and called for his help. Such intolerance of Milan’s growing hegemony had already been expressed by other Lombard cities in 1128, when Pavia, Novara, Piacenza and Brescia set aside their own quarrels over borders to join forces against Milan. Nor were matters resolved by the arrival of Emperor Lothar in 1136, who, instead of settling the disputes between the civitates, sided with the requests of Milan and its allies (Lodi, Como and Brescia) and banished Cremona from the Empire.12 It was precisely Cremona, which had been a flourishing trading centre on the banks of the Po for some time, a crossroads for traffic between central-eastern Lombardy and Venice, that started to emerge as Milan’s main rival and now openly contended its dominion of the lower stretches of the Adda and its leadership of the cities in the Po Valley. There is a clear impression that even local conflicts – like the one between Parma and Piacenza – tended to use this polarity between Milan and Cremona as a façade. It was no surprise, therefore, that during Frederick I’s visit Cremona sided with the emperor and in reward was granted the minting rights that had just been confiscated from rebel Milan. By this period, the Ambrosian city was already a power that based its ambitions on strength of numbers, first and foremost those of its population. In spite of the paucity of demographic sources for the twelfth century, it is estimated that Milan’s growth had been so rapid that when Frederick I ordered its destruction in 1162, it was the largest city in the West.13 This also explains why Milan succeeded in bouncing back: after being rapidly rebuilt, it assumed a leading role in the Lombard League – the league of cities that opposed Barbarossa – thereby not only defeating the emperor and his supporters (Cremona in primis),14 but also using bilateral agreements to create an economic area that aimed to be homogeneous and characterised by free trade. It is here perhaps that we find the main economic corollary of Milan’s political primacy: to open local markets to products from what was, already in the twelfth century, ‘Lombardy’s principal centre of production’, destined to become famous for its high-quality woollen 11 For a reconstruction of the territorial boundaries of the Lombard cities that pays attention to grounds for tension and to opposing claims, see Renato Bordone, ‘La Lombardia nell’età di Federico I’, in Storia d’Italia. Vol. 6, Comuni e signorie nell’Italia settentrionale, ed. by Giuseppe Galasso (Torino: Utet, 1998), pp. 327–84. 12 Ivi. 13 François Menant, L’Italia dei comuni (1100–1350) (Roma: Viella, 2011), p. 17. Also La distruzione di Milano (1162): un luogo di memorie, ed. by Pietro Silanos, Kai-Michael Sprenger (Milano: Vita e Pensiero, 2015). 14 Alfred Haverkamp, ‘La lega lombarda sotto la guida di Milano (1175–1183)’, in La pace di Costanza del 1183. Un difficile equilibrio di poteri fra società italiana ed impero (Bologna: Cappelli, 1984), pp. 159–78. Also Bordone, ‘La Lombardia nell’età di Federico I’, p. 369.

urban hierarchies in the heart of the po valley (12th–15th century)

cloths (the best in the Lombard area, and rivalling those of Como), as well as for its fustian, silk-weaving and metalworking.15 A quick glance at the decades after the Peace of Constance (1183), the treaty through which Barbarossa conceded the widest jurisdictional rights to those communes which were his allies (including Cremona) and above all to the victorious members of the League (led by Milan), reveals the continuing political bipolarity of this areas, which was indeed reaffirmed by the institutional developments of the time.16 The introduction of the podestà system, which placed a foreign magistrate at the head of the commune, fostered an intensification of relations between the various city-states, which began to exchange rectors and forge even more distinct ties.17 Indeed, seen from this perspective, the study of podestà movements represents an effective ‘litmus test’ of potential balance of power between cities.18 Milan’s extensive recruitment area, for example, which enabled it to import its rectors from Piacenza, Brescia, Bologna, Como, Lodi, Bergamo and Mantua, is an indicator of its wide-ranging influence and was only equalled by Cremona’s policy of selecting its podestà from the cities of Bergamo, Pavia, Parma, Bologna, Brescia and Reggio, before later restricting the pool to its closest allies, Parma, Reggio and Modena. Piacenza fluctuated between Milan and Cremona when recruiting its podestà, a mark of evident uncertainty, while Como and Lodi ended by accepting only Milanese podestà as a sign of their subordination, like some communes in the Piedmontese area (Vercelli, Novara, Alessandria and Alba). These relations serve to highlight an additional aspect: Cremona and, above all, Milan exported more podestà(s) to their allies than they imported (Milan imported none from some centres, while near parity was only achieved with a few larger communes, such as Piacenza, Brescia and Bologna), thus emphasizing the asymmetry of their relations with other cities. 15 The definition is given by Patrizia Mainoni, ‘La fisionomia economica delle città lombarde dalla fine del Duecento alla prima metà del Trecento. Materiali per un confronto’, in Le città del Mediterraneo all’apogeo dello sviluppo medievale: aspetti economici e sociali (Pistoia: Centro italiano di studi di storia e d’arte, 2001), pp. 141–221, 177. On the economic policy underlying the agreements between Milan and its allied cities, see Paolo Grillo, ‘Vie di comunicazione, traffici e mercati nella politica intercittadina milanese fra XII e XIII secolo’, Archivio Storico Italiano, CLIX (2001), n. 588, pp. 259–88. 16 Alfred Haverkamp, Herrschaftsformen der Fruhstaufer in Reichsitalien, (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, 1970–1971), I-II. 17 The corollary of intensified relations was the signing of a large number of pacts and leagues between neighbouring or allied cities. Cf. Massimo Vallerani, ‘Le leghe cittadine: alleanze militari e relazioni politiche’, in Federico II e le città padane, ed. by Pierre Toubert, Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (Palermo: Sellerio Editore, 1994), pp. 389–402; Massimo Vallerani, ‘I rapporti intercittadini nella regione lombarda tra XII e XIII secolo’, in Legislazione e prassi istituzionale nell’Europa medievale. Tradizioni normative, ordinamenti, circolazione mercantile (secoli XI-XV), ed. by Gabriella Rossetti (Napoli: Liguori, 2001), pp. 221–90. 18 An obligatory reference point is the impressive collection of essays found in the volumes: I podestà dell’età comunale, ed. by Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, (Rome: École française de Rome, 2000), I-II. More recently, see also Massimo Vallerani, ‘La politica degli schieramenti: reti podestarili e alleanze intercittadine nella prima metà del Duecento’, in Comuni e signorie nell’Italia settentrionale: la Lombardia, ed. by Giancarlo Andenna et al. (Torino: UTET, 1998), pp. 427–53.

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Differences can be found, however, in the way that these two major civitates perceived their own primacy over their allies: as Massimo Vallerani has noted, while Cremona established a political system that tended towards polycentrism, founded on equal agreements with a number of large communes (Parma, Reggio, Mantua, etc.), Milan positioned itself at the top of a system that was also jurisdictional, namely it required allies to acknowledge its right to settle inter-communal conflicts.19 The influence of the respective prelates was also a mark of difference between the two cities: in spite of the efforts both made to further the ambitions of their own civitas, the archbishop of Milan possessed the scope to intervene beyond the immediate local environs of the city owing to his status as metropolitan bishop of a vast ecclesiastical province. It was no coincidence that in 1210, in order to end this influence, Sicardo, Bishop of Cremona, obtained papal authority giving his diocese autonomy from the Milanese archbishopric.20 The years of his tenure as bishop (1185–1215), when Sicardo was able to pacify his city and establish good relations with the pope and emperor, coincided with the high point of Cremona’s political fortune,21 and it was only as a result of renewed clashes with the Empire that Milan succeeded in regaining its leadership of the Lombard cities and assuming the role of ‘totius libertatis patrona’.22 The war with the Swabian Emperor momentarily altered territorial balances and structures, but not the impression that the Po Valley was still dominated by the two major cities: Milan, whose population had risen above 150,000 inhabitants by the late thirteenth century,23 and Cremona, which was much smaller but nonetheless a considerable size for the period, with an estimated

19 Vallerani, ‘La politica degli schieramenti’, pp. 435 ff. Massimo Vallerani, ‘Modi e forme della politica pattizia di Milano nella regione piemontese: alleanze e atti giurisdizionali nella prima metà del Duecento’, Bollettino Storico-Bibliografico Subalpino, 96 (1998), pp. 619–55. 20 All of these aspects are clearly argued by Maria Pia Alberzoni, ‘Pluralità di comuni e ascesa di Milano’, in Sperimentazioni di governo nell’Italia centrosettentrionale nel processo storico dal primo comune alla signoria, ed. by Maria Consiglia De Matteis, Berardo Pio (Bologna: BUP, 2011), pp. 51–85. On the complex dialectic between papacy, bishops and communes, see also Maria Pia Alberzoni, Città, vescovi e papato nella Lombardia dei comuni (Novara: Interlinea, 2001) and Laura Baietto, Il papa e le città. Papato e comuni in Italia centro-settentrionale durante la prima metà del secolo XIII (Spoleto: Cisam, 2007). 21 Here it will suffice to refer to the work: Cremona città imperiale. Nell’VIII centenario della nascita di Federico II (Cremona: Linograf, 1999). 22 Raimund Hermes, Totius libertatis patrona. Die Kommune Mailand in Reich und Region während der ersten Hälfte des 13. Jahrhunderts (Frankfurt-am-Main: Peter Lang, 1999). 23 Underlying the estimates for Milan are the data provided by Bonvesin della Riva in his famous De Magnalibus Mediolani (1288). Cf. Giuliana Albini, Guerra, fame, peste. Crisi di mortalità e sistema sanitario nella Lombardia tardomedioevale (Bologna: Cappelli, 1982), pp. 15 ff.; Pierre Racine, ‘Milan à la fin du xiiie siècle: 60,000 ou 200,000 habitants?’, Aevum, 58 (1984), pp. 246–63. More in general also Paolo Grillo, ‘Il richiamo della metropoli: immigrazione e crescita demografica a Milano nel XIII secolo’, in Demografia e società nell’Italia medievale (secoli IX-XIV), ed. by Rinaldo Comba, Irma Naso (Cuneo: Società per gli Studi Storici, Archeologici ed Artistici della Provincia di Cuneo, 1994), pp. 441–54.

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35,000–40,000 inhabitants, many of whose livelihoods depended not only on trade but now also on production.24 Similar to Cremona in terms of population and the importance of its grain farming was Brescia, a city that traditionally looked to the Venetian market (easily accessed along the Oglio and the Po) to export its woollen cloth and iron (the latter extracted in the Valcamonica and the Valtrompia).25 Other cities in the middle of the Po valley appear to have been considerably smaller in size: the two major river ports probably had populations of around 20,000, namely Pavia, which suffered an economic downturn in the thirteenth century that reducing its status to that of ‘local market’,26 and Piacenza, a city that lay on the crossroads of several important networks, such as the Via Francigena and the road to Genoa, and which was renowned for its active merchant class who were among the earliest recorded at the Champagne Fairs.27 Also with a population of about 20,000 was Parma, another city where trade prevailed over manufacturing in the thirteenth century,28 while Reggio was much smaller with 13,000 inhabitants, Lodi and Como, each with 10,000, and Bergamo with perhaps even fewer inhabitants.29 The cities in what is now eastern Piedmont, Vercelli, Novara and Alessandria, were still smaller.30 While the political hierarchies are clearly evident and the demographic hierarchies can be calculated with reasonable approximation, it is much more difficult to rank the cities on the basis of their wealth, above all in view of the absence of uniform parameters. A recent attempt was made to obviate this problem by using the division of war costs among allied civitates as a criterion, since this is believed to have been made on the basis of each city’s capacity to contribute. Even with the caution required by the use of partial data and with

24 The estimate of approximately 40,000 is given by Lucia Sandri, ‘L’Italia padana’, in L’Italia delle città. Il popolamento urbano tra Medioevo e Rinascimento (secoli XIII-XVI) ed. by Maria Ginatempo and Lucia Sandri, (Firenze: Casa Editrice Le Lettere, 1990), p. 75. François Menant is inclined towards 35,000 inhabitants at the end of the thirteenth century, ‘Un lungo Duecento (1183–1311): il comune fra maturità istituzionale e lotte di parte’, in Storia di Cremona. Dall’alto medioevo all’età comunale, ed. by Giancarlo Andenna (Azzano San Paolo: Brolis, 2004), pp. 356–57. On the economic development of Cremona between the twelfth and thirteenth century, see Mainoni, ‘La fisionomia economica delle città lombarde’, pp. 200 ff. 25 Mainoni, ‘La fisionomia economica delle città lombarde’, pp. 207 ff. 26 The quotation is from Mainoni, ‘La fisionomia economica delle città lombarde’, p. 193. But now also see Laura Bertoni, Pavia alla fine del Duecento. Una società urbana fra crescita e crisi (Bologna: Clueb, 2013). 27 Pierre Racine, ‘L’economia urbana’, in Storia di Piacenza, II, Dal vescovo conte alla signoria (996–1313) (Piacenza: Cassa di Risparmio di Piacenza, 1984), pp. 75 ff. 28 Roberto Greci, ‘L’economia urbana’, in Storia di Parma, III/2, Parma medievale. Economia, società, memoria, ed. by Roberto Greci (Parma: MUP, 2011), pp. 107 ff. 29 For these data cf. Sandri, ‘L’Italia padana’, pp. 78, 88, whose estimates for Parma have also been accepted by Giuliana Albini, ‘La popolazione. Parma e il territorio nel medioevo’, in Storia di Parma, vol. III/2, pp. 11–12. On Bergamo, see Giuliana Albini, ‘La popolazione di Bergamo e del territorio nei secoli XIV e XV’, in Storia economica e sociale di Bergamo. I primi millenni, II, Il comune e la signoria (Bergamo: Fondazione per la storia economica e sociale di Bergamo, 1999), p. 235. 30 Sandri, ‘L’Italia padana’, pp. 62 ff.

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the benefit of a few approximations, the impression is that demographic size and economic importance developed in parallel: the study carried out by Patrizia Mainoni amply confirms the primacy of Milan, followed by Cremona, Brescia, Piacenza, etc.31 3. E  arly attempts at supra-urban coordination: towards a redefinition of hierarchies The death of Frederick II in 1250 ideally marks the explosion of the seigneurial phenomenon in cities of the Po Valley: once the emperor had gone, a large number of lords appeared on the political scene. The following pages will not focus on the impact of these lordships on communal institutions (which according to recent revisions of the traditional interpretation marked the start of the crisis of the free city-states).32 Instead the focus of this study will be on the nature of the new multiple-city dominations, namely groupings made up of several cities subject to the same dominus. In other words, the aim is to see how these new, broader, political groupings helped to redefine the urban hierarchies of the region. Among the first and most interesting experiments is certainly that undertaken in the 1250s by Marchese Uberto Pallavicino, who laid claim on various counts to the lordship of a group of cities in the heart of the Po Valley. He embarked on an ambitious project to create an integrated economic area and, within the space of a few years, succeeded in becoming the ‘sole referent, super partes’ for merchants trading in the region who were offered the opportunity to stipulate agreements ‘valid for all Lombardy’.33 In concomitance Pallavicino also promoted the creation of a homogeneous monetary area among Cremona, Pavia, Piacenza, Brescia, Bergamo and Tortona, offering an alternative to the one over which Milan held sway.34

31 The cities of the league agreed to mint a series of silver coins with the same weight and fineness. However, even in the short term, the project failed and rivalry between the individual centres resumed. Cf. Mainoni, ‘La fisionomia economica delle città lombarde’, pp. 212 ff. On the tendency for the social hierarchies and economic hierarchies to overlap, see Giuliano Pinto, ‘Tra demografia, economia e politica: la rete urbana italiana (XII-inizio XV secolo)’, Edad Media. Revista Historica, 15 (2014), 37–57, p. 50. 32 Most recently see Giorgio Chittolini, ‘Crisi e lunga durata delle istituzioni comunali in alcuni dibattiti recenti’, in Penale, Giustizia, Potere. Metodi, Ricerche, Storiografie. Per ricordare Mario Sbriccoli, ed. by Luigi Lacché, Carlotta Latini, Paolo Marchetti, Massimo Meccarelli (Macerata: EUM, 2007), pp. 125–54. 33 ‘Valevoli per tutta la Lumbardia’. These quotations are all taken from Mainoni, ‘La fisionomia economica delle città lombarde’, p. 145. Cremona, Pavia, Vercelli and Piacenza became the heart of the economic policy of the marquisate and agreements were drawn up to keep efficient trade channels open with Genoa, Venice and northern Europe. Cf. Bertoni, Pavia alla fine del Duecento, p. 194. 34 The agreement that led to the emission of a series of silver coinage of equal weight and fineness dates from 1254 but it was very short-lived and soon disregarded. Cf. Patrizia Mainoni, Economia e politica nella Lombardia medievale. Da Bergamo a Milano fra XIII e XV secolo (Cavallermaggiore: Gribaudi, 1994), p. 80.

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In 1259 the Ambrosian city, which had emerged with depleted coffers from the wars against Frederick II, also approached Pallavicino, who had been elected captain general for five years, but the inclusion of a supporter of the Pars Imperii was compensated by the nomination of an adherent of the Pars Ecclesiae, Martino della Torre, as Elder of the People (‘Anziano del Popolo’). This was the Della Torre family – in the person of first Martino, then Filippo, and lastly Napoleone – who succeeded in establishing direct rule, both over Milan, but also over Como, Lodi, Bergamo, Vercelli and Novara (and for shorter periods also over Brescia and Alessandria). From a political viewpoint, the result was that a single lineage, as well as the commune of Milan, gained supremacy in Lombardy.35 The political fortunes of the Della Torre were based on support from the popular classes (those that made up the Societas Populi: merchants and artisans) and this explains the introduction of measures that would offer a powerful impetus to Milan’s economic role. They included measures to widen the Naviglio Grande, as it then was, in order to make it navigable and connect it to the Ticino river and Lake Maggiore, as well as other measures to establish the first trade agreements with major centres north of the Alps. Above all, under the Della Torre Milan benefited from its membership of a wide Guelph alliance, which gave Milanese entrepreneurs and merchants access to Tuscan banks offering loans and partnerships, and also harnessed links with the most active and established financiers in foreign trading centres.36 These conditions of growth and prosperity do not appear to have changed even after the Battle of Desio (1277) when the Della Torre were supplanted by the Ghibelline Visconti: first in the person of Archbishop Ottone, and then his nephew Matteo who established a personal lordship not only over Milan but also over Como, Casale, Vercelli and Novara. Recent historiography has rightly highlighted the need to mistrust teleological interpretations of the seigneurial turn in the late thirteenth century, stressing that the outcome was not irreversible. Indeed, between 1302 and 1310, the Della Torre returned to the Milanese political scene, chased out the Visconti and appeared to be content, at least until 1307, with a leadership that was more respectful of the autonomy of the Ambrosian commune, by exercising a sort of protectorate over it rather than a true lordship; this had an impact on both the geopolitical balance of the region, as well as on the urban hierarchies. Instead of continuing in their project to build a vast area of dominion, the Della Torre created an inter-city league in collaboration with the leading families of neighbouring cities, whose sympathies also lay with the Guelphs.37 City leagues were certainly not a novelty in the Po Valley area – one need only recall the Lombard League, which was periodically revived. However, the peculiarity of the early fourteenth-century Guelph league – which included Cremona, Pavia, Lodi, Crema, Novara, Vercelli, 35 Paolo Grillo, ‘Un’egemonia sovracittadina: la famiglia della Torre di Milano e le città lombarde (1259–1277)’, Rivista Storica Italiana, CXX/2 (2008), pp. 694–730. 36 Mainoni, ‘La fisionomia economica delle città lombarde’, pp. 166 ff. 37 Paolo Grillo, Milano Guelfa (1302–1310) (Roma: Viella, 2013).

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Como and Bergamo, as well as Milan – lay in its multicentric nature. In other words, the leadership was no longer solely in the hands of Milan, but was shared with Cremona and, to a lesser extent, with Pavia. 4. The Lombard cities in the regional state The two-year period 1310–11 not only marks a changeover of regime in Milan, after the Visconti returned to the city and then definitively banished the Della Torre, but it also sanctioned the start of a political era when seigneurial power was exercised in new forms compared to the past. Having been granting the title of imperial vicar, Matteo Visconti started to act in ways that were no longer within communal institutions but above them, and it mattered little that his immediate successors developed an ambiguous relationship with the imperial title (sometime actively courting it, at other times not using it): by then the rupture was manifest, marking a point of no-return in the way that power was exercised.38 This turning point in government was not, however, only qualitative but also quantitative, because under Matteo’s successors, the dominion was expanded to include a growing number of cities. Some were permanently incorporated into the new political formation that was taking shape (Lodi, Piacenza, Parma, Como, Bergamo, Brescia, Cremona, Novara, etc.), others were absorbed for a short, occasionally fleeting, period at the end of the fourteenth century (Reggio Emilia, Verona, Vicenza, Feltre and Belluno, Siena, Perugia), while yet others were intermittently subject to Visconti rule (Genova, Bologna). The process of growth was not linear during the course of the fourteenth century, in the same way that the overall political design was not univocally clear-cut. Lords who were more respectful of local political bodies (like Galeazzo II) were followed by others who were much more invasive (like Bernabò); likewise, while some regarded their dominion as a simple grouping of cities, each of which was entrusted to the government of a Visconti son or his wife (again, the reference is to Bernabò), others embarked on what was effectively a state-building project, with the aim of eroding many of the urban prerogatives and standardising local rights in certain fields.39 The main example of this tendency was certainly Gian Galeazzo, who

38 For a reconstruction of these events: Andrea Gamberini, ‘Milan and Lombardy in the Era of the Visconti and the Sforza’, in A Companion to Late Medieval and Early Modern Milan. The Distinctive Features of an Italian State, ed. by Andrea Gamberini (Leiden: Brill, 2015), pp. 19–45; Federico Del Tredici, ‘Lombardy under the Visconti and the Sforza’, in The Italian Renaissance State, ed. by Andrea Gamberini, Isabella Lazzarini (Cambridge: CUP, 2012), pp. 156–76. On the transformation of seigneurial power, see Andrea Zorzi, Le signorie cittadine in Italia. Secoli XIII-XV (Milano: Mondadori, 2010). On relations between the Visconti and the institution of the vicariate: Federica Cengarle, Lesa maestà all’ombra del biscione. Dalle città lombarde ad una monarchia europea (1335–1447) (Roma: Edizioni storia e letteratura, 2014). 39 On the differing sensitivities of lords for local institutions: Andrea Gamberini, La città assediata. Poteri e identità politiche a Reggio in età viscontea (Roma: Viella, 2003), pp. 249 ff. More in general Andrea Gamberini, Lo stato visconteo. Linguaggi politici e dinamiche costituzionali (Milano: Franco Angeli, 2005).

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became Duke of Milan and its subordinate cities as a consequence of imperial diplomas issued in 1395 and 1396 and decisively promoted the centralization of governmental functions.40 The era of Gian Galeazzo Visconti not only marked a turning point in terms of the practice of power but also that of the expansionism of the state, which grew to unrivalled proportions: following the death of the duke in 1402 his vast dominion comprised well over twenty cities, ranging from Vercelli to Vicenza, from Como to Reggio, from Luni to Feltre, and also including Bologna, Pisa, Siena and Perugia. The death of the first duke nonetheless led to a breakdown of the duchy, once again proving the fragility of the edifice of state. Nor, despite their commitment to the reconstruction process, did his successors manage to reassemble the dismembered parts of the dominion. On the contrary, the history of the duchy of Milan in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries is prevalently characterised by territorial amputations: not only were the most recently conquered cities lost, but centres that had formed part of the historical core of the dominion now abandoned it: like Bergamo and Brescia, which passed to Venice from the late 1420s. This was a trend that not even the new dynasty of the Sforza, who replaced the Visconti from 1450, could halt: to the point that, in 1535, when the last duke died without heirs and the duchy was devolved to the Empire, there were fewer than ten subordinate cities. Behind this process of constantly changing boundaries lie factors common to other areas of Europe, such as wars, pacts of submission, dynastic marriages, etc., but these lie outside the scope of the chapter. One element, however, does appear unique to the area in question, and that is the methods with which states undergo territorial aggregation and disaggregation. In central-northern Italy, the process whereby boundaries expand and contract occurred in blocks of cities: in other words, the urban centres (and their respective surrounding countryside or contado) formed the building blocks of the state, offering further evidence of the particularly strong influence preserved in Italy by the institutional structures inherited from the communal age.41 Certainly, at this stage cities were gradually deprived of their decision-making autonomy (except with regard to matters of purely local relevance), communal revenues were absorbed entirely by the ducal treasury, and invasive urban interventions – for example, the building of castles and fortresses – also provided material indicators of the loss of liberty. Yet the inhabitants of the cities continued to regard themselves as citizens (cives) not subjects (subditi): nor was this merely a question of self-representation given that the rights that they enjoyed (the rights of property, participation in politics, etc.) derived precisely from their condition as citizens. The status of civis was held in considerable regard and often extended to representatives of the territorial aristocracies who were careful to preserve their link to the city in 40 Jane W. Black, ‘The Visconti and the Ducal Title’, in Communes and Despots in medieval and Renaissance Italy, ed. by John E. Law, Bernadette Paiton (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), pp. 119–30. 41 Chittolini, ‘Cities, City-States, and Regional States in North-Central Italy’.

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spite of having lands and castles in the contado. Indeed, since the communal era, the majority of nobles had been drawn in various ways into the orbit of the city, and this also explains why there was no class assembly in the Visconti-Sforza duchy, along the lines of the English parliament or the French estates general (états généraux): the influence of the aristocracy and the clergy was simply too weak, at least in comparison to that of the city. It is no coincidence that the path chosen by the most powerful aristocratic families to affirm their role was precisely that of controlling urban institutions, thanks above all to factions led by the nobility of the contado.42 The tendency for cities to preserve their political spaces, to develop their own identities (which were always seen as prevailing over competing identities, above all that fostered by the state), and to pursue interests that only occasionally overlapped with those of other urban centres within the duchy, with which there was still a strong sense of rivalry, above all economic competition, remains a constant throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, thereby suggesting that the question of urban hierarchies was far from a closed subject. Two factors now exerted a considerable impact on the growth and decline of cities. The first concerns the new institutional framework now governing the cities, their relations with the duke, and his choices not only in political terms but also concerning tax and the economy.43 The second takes the form of the complex social transformations triggered by the economic slowdown in the early decades of the fourteenth century, the long series of wars and then the demographic shock of the Black Death of 1347–48 (which continued to be endemic in successive decades): all of these were elements that elicited very different responses from the cities of Lombardy.44 Among the urban centres to benefit most from the ascent of the Visconti was Pavia, which experienced a revival of its past glories. As the ancient seat first of the Lombard kings and then the Italic rulers, Pavia was returned to the rank of capital in 1360 when Galeazzo II, fearing for his own safety, abandoned Milan (where his brother Bernabò had won support) and moved to the city on the banks of the Ticino. Here he not only built himself a sumptuous castle, destined to house one of the richest libraries of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, but he also founded a Studium generale, which owing to the dynasty’s academic protectionism became the only university that subjects throughout the duchy

42 Marco Gentile, Factions and Parties: Problems and Perspectives, in The Italian Renaissance State, pp. 304–22. Andrea Gamberini, La legittimità contesa. Costruzione statale e culture politiche (Lombardia, secoli XII-XV) (Roma, Viella: 2016), pp. 164 ff. 43 On the relationship prince/city see Giorgio Chittolini, ‘Alcune note sul ducato di Milano nel Quattrocento’, in Principi e città alla fine del medioevo, ed. by Sergio Gensini (Roma: 1996), pp. 413–31. But also see the remarks in Andrea Gamberini, Oltre le città. Assetti territoriali e culture aristocratiche nella Lombardia del tardo Medioevo (Roma: Viella, 2009), pp. 29 ff. 44 Giuliana Albini, Guerra, fame, peste. crisi di mortalità e sistema sanitario nella Lombardia tardomedioevale, (Bologna: Cappelli, 1981).

urban hierarchies in the heart of the po valley (12th–15th century)

could attend (bringing significant benefits to the local economy).45 Only the population of Pavia was slow to return to its pre-crisis level, and even by the late fifteenth century the city still numbered just 16,000–20,000 inhabitants.46 In the fifteenth century the duke and his court returned permanently to Milan, having never completely abandoned the city during the previous decades. However, this did not prevent Pavia from continuing to assert its status as capital, for which it obtained the same tax privileges as were recognised to Milan.47 A city whose status and political ambitions were drastically reduced was Cremona, even though it proved more successful than most in dealing with the fourteenth-century crisis. The advent of the Visconti rulers was, in some respects, a dramatic moment for Cremona, marking its transition from ‘centre to the periphery’48: indeed, it maintained this condition in the second half of the fifteenth century notwithstanding the fact that its inclusion in Bianca Maria Visconti’s dowry, wife of the future duke, Francesco Sforza, raised fleeting hopes of a jurisdictional separation from the rest of the duchy.49 Cremona’s political downfall is clearly expressed, moreover, in an extraordinary source like the Ordo funeris for Gian Galeazzo Visconti. The position occupied by individuals and communities in the funeral procession reflected their ranking in Visconti society, offering the historian an opportunity to make a detailed reconstruction of the political and social hierarchies of Visconti rule. With regard to the cities, the list must be read in reverse, because as a token of their humility the largest and most prestigious centres are preceded by smaller ones. However, this in no way detracts from the significance of the procession as an indicator of rank. Topping the classification, namely at the back of the procession, are the two capitals, Milan and Pavia, which are preceded by Bologna, Pisa, Siena and Perugia (all large and recently conquered cities that were destined to be lost in the following years), while at the front we find Verona, Brescia Parma, Piacenza, Cremona, Como, Bergamo, Vicenza, Novara, Vercelli, Lodi, Alessandria, Tortona, Belluno, Feltre, Bobbio, and Assisi.50

45 It is sufficient to refer to Maira Nadia Covini, ‘Pavia dai Beccaria ai Visconti-Sforza. Metamorfosi di una città’, in Le subordinazioni delle città comunali a poteri maggiori in Italia dagli inizi del secolo XIV all’ancien régime. Risultati scientifici della ricerca, ed. by Miriam Davide (Trieste: CERM, 2014), pp. 46–67. 46 It is enough to refer to the data of Ginatempo, Sandri, L’Italia delle città, p. 100. For Pavia, which had a population of c. 16,000–20,000 inhabitants in the late fifteenth century, p. 76. 47 The fiscal privileges reserved to the Milanese are set out in Chittolini, ‘Alcune note sul ducato di Milano’, pp. 420–21. Also Maria Nadia Covini, ‘Alle spese di Zoan villano: gli alloggiamenti militari nel dominio visconteo-sforzesco’, Nuova rivista storica, LXXVI (1992) 1–56, especially pp. 18 ff. 48 Marco Gentile, ‘Dal comune cittadino allo stato regionale: la vicenda politica’, in Storia di Cremona, vol. V, Il Trecento. Chiesa e cultura, ed. by Giancarlo Andenna, (Azzano San Paolo: Brolis, 2007), pp. 260–301. 49 Andrea Gamberini, ‘Cremona nel Quattrocento: la vicenda politica e istituzionale’, in Storia di Cremona. Il Quattrocento. Cremona nel ducato di Milano (1395–1535), ed. by Giorgio Chittolini (Azzano San Paolo: Brolis, 2008), pp. 2–39 50 ‘Ordo funeris Johannis Galeatii Vicecomitis ducis Mediolani’, in Rerum Italicarum Scriptores (Milano: Typographia Societatis Palatinae, 1730), vol. XVI, coll. 1030–1031.

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If we compare this list, in which a city’s rank was probably based on its prestige and demographic importance, to the ones that can be drawn up on the basis of tax revenues for the years 138851 and 146352 – the only ones for which data for the various territories within the state are available – the impression is that the hierarchies remain relatively consistent. We need only examine the cities present in all three lists to note that, despite some fluctuations, the classification of the ordo funeris is confirmed. Two exceptions stand out. From a political viewpoint, Parma is given striking pre-eminence, coming fourth in the Ordo funeris, after Milan, Pavia and Brescia, despite its fiscal revenues that placed it below Cremona and Piacenza (and, in 1388 at least, even below Bergamo and Brescia). The impression is that the nobility and prestige of the territorial aristocracy around Parma reflected on the city, where the nobles served as the leaders for relatively officialized factions and even represented the commune.53 From an economic viewpoint, it is worth noting the collapse of Como, which fell several places between 1388 and 1463, owing to factors that can only partly be explained by the loss of the Valtellina, a large mountain region that formed part of the city’s territory in 1388 but in 1463 was granted separate jurisdictional status that brought it directly under the duke. The question of the Valtellina leads us precisely to the key issue of the new administrative structures formed during the Visconti-Sforza era, namely the ducal propensity to recognise greater levels of autonomy to large towns or federal communities (like the Valtellina, or the Valcamonica, which were both communities of communities), thereby frustrating the ambitions of the cities. The cases of Vigevano, Monza, Crema, Treviglio, Chiari, etc., are very well known: all were centres that had experienced enormous growth, both in economic and demographic terms, at the end of the Middle Ages, becoming ‘quasi-cities’ to all extents, as Giorgio Chittolini has underlined, and often driven to achieve full jurisdictional separation from the city on which they depended.54

51 In 1388 the financial capacity of cities (with their countrysides) was assed as follows (figures refer to florins): Milan 14.140, Pavia 4.275, Como 4.123, Brescia 4.086 (not including 250 florins of the community of Lake Garda and 150 florins of Valcamonica), Piacenza 2.531, Cremona 2.387 (not including 491 of the so colled ‘Lands beyond Adda river’, Bergamo 2.092, Parma 1.829, Lodi 1.331, Alessandria 1.234, Novara 1.078, Vercelli 418, Tortona 406. Cf. La politica finanziaria dei Visconti (1329–1385), ed. by Caterina Santoro (Gessate: Arti Grafiche Colombo, 1979), vol. II, pp. 87–89. 52 In 1463 the financial capacity of cities (with their countrysides) was assed as follows (figures refer to florins): Milano (586.000), Pavia (221.991), Cremona (193.439 lire), Piacenza (151.410), Parma (147.726), Lodi (96.858), Como (85.563), Novara (90.766), Alessandria (59.786) e Tortona (30.927). See Federico Del Tredici, ‘Il partito dello stato. Crisi e ricostruzione del ducato visconteo nelle vicende di Milano e del suo contado’, in Il ducato di Filippo Maria Visconti, 1412–1447. Economia, politica, cultura, ed. by Federica Cengarle, Maria Nadia Covini (Firenze: Firenze University Press, 2016), p. 49. 53 For example, in occasione del giuramento di fedeltà delle città al successore di Gian Galeazzo, il giovane Giovanni Maria, Parma mandò come ambasciatori proprio i rappresentanti delle quattro squadre filoaristocratiche (Rossi, Pallavicini, Sanvitale, Correggio). Marco Gentile, Terra e poteri. Parma e il Parmense nel ducato visconteo all’inizio del Quattrocento (Milano: Unciopli, 2001), p. 41. 54 Giorgio Chittolini, Città, comunità e feudi negli stati dell’Italia centro-settentrionale (secoli XIV-XVI) (Milano: Unicopli, 1996), pp. 61 ff. and 85 ff.

urban hierarchies in the heart of the po valley (12th–15th century)

Without dwelling further on these aspects, we need only recall that the duke’s tendency to redefine the organisation of the territory was further manifested in the numerous fiefs carved out of the contado of many cities from the late fourteenth century onwards, namely from the moment when ducal investiture banished any doubts regarding the possibility for the lord of Milan to grant a fief jointly with the merum et mixtum imperium.55 In short, for the cities in the duchy, the main problem was no longer that of gaining primacy over surrounding centres, as it had been in the distant past, but instead that of preserving control over their own territory, and forestalling ducal grants to communities or feudatories that would damage the rights and privileges of ordinary citizens in the contado (such as the monopoly granted to the urban market, the right to protect the grain supply, the privileged use of watercourses, the primacy of the city court over rural courts, and the recognition of the city statutes not only as urban but also as territorial law, and so forth). On the other hand, what the cities of the duchy never had to fear was a ducal policy that privileged solely the capital or its elites. This was certainly not the case from an economic point of view, given that Lombardy remained a polycentric region within which Milan drained much fewer resources from other cities (in terms of taxes, labour, supplies, etc.) than other capital cities did at the time;56 nor from a political point of view, since a comparison with capitals such as Florence or Venice on precisely these grounds immediately highlights the very different role played by the elites in those centres. While in Florentine Tuscany and on the Venetian mainland the ruling classes of the capital had become the ruling class of the state (and therefore the entire machinery of state was calibrated to the interests of the capital and its elites), the situation in Lombardy was different. Here the process of state building had been promoted by a family, not by the city government.57 Therefore, it was the Visconti and later the Sforza who were the pillars of the system, not the commune of Milan. Indeed, although the Visconti expansion certainly took place with the interested participation of the merchant and manufacturing classes in Milan, under the Sforza there was a gradual detachment between the dynasty and the Milanese elites.58 On closer examination, since the second half of the fourteenth century at least the Milanese had had to come to terms with the ambitions of the ruling classes of other cities within the dominion, who from the outset had been integrated in the state administrative structures (as officials, for instance), thereby reducing the space reserved to the cives of the capital. Moreover, again since the fourteenth century, the Milanese – uniquely in the entire duchy – had

55 Giorgio Chittolini, La formazione dello stato regionale e le istituzioni del contado. Secoli XIV-XVI (Torino: Einaudi, 1979), pp. 31 ff. Also Federica Cengarle, Immagine di potere e prassi di governo. La politica feudale di Filippo Maria Visconti (Roma: Viella, 2006). 56 This is noted by Patrizia Mainoni, ‘The Economy of Renaissance Milan’, in A Companion to Late Medieval and Early Modern Milan, p. 119. 57 Chittolini, ‘Alcune note sul ducato di Milano’, pp. 424 ff. 58 Chittolini, Città, comunità e feudi, pp. 167 ff.

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been deprived of the right to nominate members of the city council, who were instead chosen directly by the duke.59 Nonetheless, even in the early decades of the fifteenth century, the leading families of Milan still held considerable sway both at court and in the state magistracies. The situation changed following the rise of the Sforza, a dynasty of newcomers that, in turn, tended to promote homines novi and outsiders. Seen in this light, the conspiracy that led to the assassination of Galeazzo Maria Sforza (1476) should not only be seen as a reaction to his proto-absolutism but also as an attempt to reaffirm the centrality of the Milanese elites and the inhabitants of a city that, in spite of being described as ‘the economic heart of Europe’ by a German merchant,60 could not transform its economic primacy into a governing primacy. This sums up what was probably the contradiction of Milan at the end of the Middle Ages. It was by far the richest city of the dominion, and alone (with its contado) it accounted for more than one third of the duchy’s revenues.61 Its size was also impressive, and by the end of the fifteenth century its population was once again just short of 100,000 inhabitants. Yet, such prosperity marks a resounding contrast with the marginal role played by its elites in the government of the state, and with their inability to transform themselves into the ruling class of the duchy. Nor did the situation change when the duchy passed into French control in 1499. On the contrary, the shift of the decision-making centres north of the Alps, where the king and his councillors were based, removed any opportunities for the forms of social ascent traditionally linked to the presence of the court. As for the officials whom Louis XII sent to govern the duchy – such as the chancellor, the treasurer, and military commanders, for instance – they were all French, or at any rate not Lombards (the sole exception was Gian Giacomo Trivulzio, the first royal lieutenant, who held office for just one year). Even the Senate, imposed by Louis XII as the supreme state judiciary (but with latent functions of class representation), initially included a very low percentage of Milanese citizens.62 In short, Milan in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries was an economic giant but a political dwarf, and this is the clue to its distinctive nature. Lombardy under Visconti and later Sforza rule was a polycentric region in political terms as well as in manufacturing and trade. It was in this latter sphere that Milan’s primacy did indeed translate into a natural hierarchy of markets, but with a view to fostering integration and complementarity, not subordination.

59 Chittolini, ‘Alcune note sul ducato di Milano’, pp. 418–19. 60 Aldo De Maddalena, L’economia Milanese in età spagnola, in Storia illustrata di Milano, ed. by Franco Della Peruta (Milano: Sellino, 1993), vol. IV, p. 1081 61 Gamberini, Lo stato visconteo, p. 154; Del Tredici, ‘Il partito dello stato’, p. 49. 62 On Milan under French rule see Letizia Arcangeli, ‘Milan during the Italian Wars (1499–1529): Experiments in Representation and Definitions of Citizenship’, in Italy and the European Powers: the Impact of War, 1500–1530, ed. by Christine Shaw (Leiden: Brill, 2006), pp. 159–85. Also Gamberini, ‘Milan and Lombardy’, pp. 26 ff.

David Alonso García 

Rethinking Madrid during the Sixteenth Century An Approach from Urban Hierarchies* 1. Castilian Urban Systems during the Habsburg period The change in how urban systems worked during the Habsburg period is significant to our understanding of the history of Spain. Without considering the hierarchy between cities and territories during this time, it is difficult to understand the different developments between regions, relations between cities, and urban identities.1 In the Crown of Castile there was an evident evolution of its urban systems that can be split into two phases, as we explain after. Urbanisation in Castile in the 16th century. % by region in 1530 and 1591 -Andalucía: 42% (28%) y 53% (31%) -Extremadura: 5% (0%) y 16% (2%) -Murcia/Alcaraz: 26% (13%) y 30% (10%) -Castilla la Nueva: 7% (4%) y 25% (13%) -Castilla la Vieja: 9% (6%) y 9% (6%) -Cantabria: 0% (0%) y 1% (0%) TOTAL: 13% (8%) y 21% (11%) * In parentheses, population in cities with more than 10,000 inhabitants. Source: Sánchez León, ‘El campo’, p. 448.

The latest studies show clearly that urbanisation rates in Castile were quite high at the beginning of the Modern Age.2 For instance, J. de Vries found that

* Research Project: ‘Las ciudades de la corona de Castilla. Dinámicas y proyección de los Sistemas Urbanos entre 1300 y 1600’. Ministerio de Economía, Industria y Competitividad. HAR2017– 82983–P. I appreciate Sean Perrone’s help in translating this article. 1 For an introduction to Urban Hierarchies during the Late Medieval Ages in Castile, see María Asenjo González, ‘Introducción. La jerarquización urbana en la baja edad Media. Aspectos politicos, socieconómicos y devocionales’, Anuario de Estudios Medievales, 48 (1/2018), 3–22. 2 Cfr., Juan Eloy Gelabert, ‘Urbanisation and Deurbanisation in Castile, 1500–1800’, in The Castilian Crisis of the Seventeenth Century, ed. by I. A. A. Thompson and Bartolomé Yun Casalilla (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), pp. 182–205; José Ignacio Fortea Pérez, ‘Las ciudades de la corona de Castilla en el Antiguo Régimen: una revisión historiográfica’, Boletín de la Asociación de David Alonso García • Universidad Complutense, Madrid Urban Hierarchy: The interaction between towns and cities in Europe in Late Medieval and Early Modern Times, ed. by María Asenjo-González, Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan & Andrea Zorzi, Studies in European Urban History (1100–1800) 53 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 91-108.

© FHG

DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.124664

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in the early 1500s 13% of Castile’s population lived in cities with more than 5,000 inhabitants, whereas in 1600 this percentage had risen to 21%. In the first phase, the urban network in Castile was characterised by the influence of the medium-size towns, structured from a regional point of view.3 These towns formed a strongly integrated space through their artisans (e.g. Segovia, Cuenca, or Toledo), as well as their mercantile (Burgos) and financial sectors. Here we must highlight the fairs of Medina del Campo and a large number of local, although not necessarily small, bankers that sometimes worked with large groups from Genoa or Germany. At this point, a large number of merchants maintained contacts and activities with a number of European cities.4 Relations between these centres were very intense during much of the sixteenth century. There were many economic and institutional interactions as well as personal and familiar relations. The organisation of the urban network was based on personal ties and these social networks provided information, trade and influence. These ‘integrations’ can be seen from different points of view. For example, in taxation, tax farmers incorporated guarantors from different places and could start tax collection from different regions. Merchants and artisans also maintained important commercial networks between the different cities. The bill of exchange facilitated the credit and social possibilities between regions. There were even examples -some that were very significant- of one person occupying government offices in different towns during his life, as the case of Madrid shows. This was a dynamic urban system with multiple nodes and mobility between centres. Castile’s urban system started its transformation during the sixteenth century, when Madrid became a stable court of the Monarchy. At this time, demographic growth accelerated in the future capital of Spain5. In contrast, the largest regional centres (Valladolid, Toledo or Cuenca, in particular) collapsed and their population declined. Madrid replaced Medina del Campo as the main financial centre in Castile due to the crisis of Medina’s fairs. Burgos was also unable to maintain the same commercial muscle in relation to Flanders. Although Valladolid maintained a significant part of its population, it was reduced to being the mere headquarters of the Chancillería. Toledo saw how its rich silk



Demografía Histórica, XIII (3, 1995), 19–59. David S. Reher, ‘Ciudades, procesos de urbanización y sistemas urbanos en la Península Ibérica, 1550–1991’, in Atlas histórico de ciudades europeas. Vol. I. Península Ibérica (Barcelona: Centre de Cultura Contemporània, 1994), pp. 1–29; ‘Auge y declive del mundo urbano de la Corona de Castilla durante la Edad Moderna. Aspectos de un reajuste de largo alcance’, in Ciudad y mundo urbano en la época Moderna, ed. by Luis Ribot and Luigi da Rosa (Madrid: Actas, 1997), pp. 45–72; Pablo Sánchez León, ‘El campo en la ciudad y la ciudad en el campo: urbanización e instituciones en Castilla durante la Edad Moderna’, Hispania, LXVIII (2, 1998), 439–70 . David S. Ringrose, ‘Historia urbana y urbanización en la España Moderna’, Hispania, LXVIII (2, 1998), 489–512. 3 Francisco Javier Vela Santamaría, ‘El sistema urbano del norte de Castilla en la segunda mitad del siglo XVI’, in Luis Ribot and Luigi de Rosa, Ciudad y mundo urbano en la época moderna (Madrid: Actas, 1997), pp. 15–43. 4 Hilario Casado Alonso, El triunfo de Mercurio: la presencia castellana en Europa (siglos XV y XVI) (Burgos: Cajacírculo, 2003). 5 María José Carbajo Isla, La población de la villa de Madrid. Desde finales del siglo XVI hasta mediados del siglo XIX. (Madrid: Siglo XXI, 1987).

r ethin k in g madr id during the sixteenth century

industry dwindled. Only Seville – clearly linked to trade with America – retained preponderance outside Madrid.6 What was Madrid’s influence in this transformation? It has been argued that Madrid was a ‘parasitic’ capital.7 The aristocracy established themselves in the Court, and the great regional centres accused the nobility of having abandoned them. This group was responsible for a considerable amount of sumptuary consumption and this could benefit manufacturing or commercial sectors in other points. Since Madrid’s transformation into a stable court, there were significant movements by the aristocrats and the well off. Although a certain vigour was maintained by some rural and smaller towns -especially in present-day Castilla la Mancha- a central system was created around Madrid since sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Castile witnessed a process of urban decline if we consider this in terms of large cities, with the constant exception of Madrid. However, this process was even deeper and based on economic structures. Important cities continued onward, but the focused generally on agriculture rather than industry or the merchant economy. Consequently, as J. E. Gelabert pointed out, there was a process of deindustrialisation instead of deurbanisation.8 In this way, the foundations were being laid for the urban models of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, when the highest urbanisation rates were located far away from the Iberian peninsula.9 In short, the urban system of Castile went through two phases: one of polynuclear growth, without the presence of a single centre, and another with the development of Madrid as the great city of Castile, which therefore came to occupy the top place in the urban hierarchies. When did this process start? Some precision can be provided regarding this key element for understanding Spanish history because historical evidence shows that Madrid was changing before 1561. 2. Madrid: the origin of a cosmopolitan city The first element to consider when looking at the role of Madrid in the urban hierarchies should be the internal evolution of the city. Its transformation towards a cosmopolitan city with the ability to attract people or news from multiple locations and thereby foster intense cultural exchange did not occur in one day. A closer look at the evolution of late medieval Madrid, particularly the period under the rule of Charles V, leads to the conclusion that the transformation of the city as a court of the monarchy needs to be understood from a diachronic perspective. This transformation took place over the span of several decades

6 Bartolomé Yun Casalilla, Marte contra Minerva. El precio del imperio español, c.1450–1600 (Barcelona: Crítica, 2004), pp. 175–244. 7 David S. Ringrose, ‘El desarrollo urbano y la decadencia española’, Revista de Historia Económica, 1 (1983), 37–57. 8 Gelabert, ‘Urbanisation’. 9 David S. Ringrose, Spain, Europe and the ‘Spanish Miracle, 1700–1900 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).

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and was not the result of a singular decision by Philip II.10 Two key elements should be considered. First, the Court chose to reside in Madrid for at least eight years between 1517 and 1547. Whereas residents of other cities may have resented prolonged royal stays, Madrileños did not. In 1524, for example, a report included this sentence: This city and its land cannot be in better health. The arrival of his majesty is desired in this town more than anywhere in the kingdom because it is natural place of court according to old customs, where most of neighbors from Madrid live with his majesty.11 The text refers to the presence of the Court within the city as ‘natural’. Courtiers might have found it to be natural as well. From 1539 to 1542, for example, the court was in Madrid uninterruptedly, and during those years the Crown showed a great interest in intervening in urban planning and city policy.12 There were plans to build a prison and a collegiate church, reforms in general hospitals, repairs in the bread barns, the allocation of money for sewage systems, no to mention the beginning of the renovation at the Alcázar, all of which show that this urban space was moving under the influence of the court. This all took place before 1561. Indeed, the urban program of Juan Bautista de Toledo covered some of the reforms just mentioned.13 The court’s presence then significantly changed the shape of the town and its relationship with other cities in the centre of Spain. As many historians have pointed out, transforming the city into the capital of the Spanish Monarchy caused significant demographic changes.14 There was a significant rise in the number of inhabitants due to immigration, as well as an art boom, new monasteries, churchs, palaces and, as consequence, the demand for luxury items. With this, came significant changes in the economic fabric.15 Some of these changes can be glimpsed in the decades prior to the creation of Madrid as a stable seat of the court. For instance, a document from 1547 mentions the ‘national and foreign poor people’ arriving with the Court.16 Madrid was also becoming an international hub with important links between Madrid and European cities and from outside the continent at this time. Many

10 David Alonso García, ‘Jano en Madrid, Madrid con Jano: hacia la ciudad cortesana’, in Organización social del espacio. III. Madrid en el tránsito de la Edad Media a la Moderna, ed. by Santiago Muriel and Cristina Segura (Madrid: Almudayna, 2008), pp. 331–47. For another point of view, Alfredo Alvar Ezquerra, Madrid, corazón de un imperio, 1561 y 1601–1606 (Madrid: Ediciones La Librería, 2013). 11 ‘De salud no puede estar mejor de lo que está esta villa e su tierra, e lo que más çierto se puede desir es ques más deseada la venida de su magestad en esta villa que en ninguna parte del Reyno porque éste es natural lugar de corte segund costunbre antigua e todos los más vezinos desta villa biven con su magestad’. Archivo General de Simancas, Cámara de Castilla, leg. 167, nº 7, fol. 2. 12 David Alonso García, Una corte en construcción. Madrid en la Hacienda Real de Castilla (1517–1556) (Buenos Aires: Miño y Dávila, 2005), p. 32. 13 Alonso, ‘Jano’, pp. 341–43. 14 Carbajo Isla, La población. 15 Bartolomé Bennassar, ‘Las capitales que fueron’, in Capitales y Corte en la Historia de España (Valladolid: Instituto Universitario Simancas, 2003), pp. 29–44. 16 AGS, Estado-Castilla, leg. 47, n. 227

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of the great men of the monarchy who would have a significant influence over the city government were directly linked to the financial world and to contacts with banks in Spain or other realms. Examples include Francisco de Vargas, the treasurer, Alonso Gutierrez de Madrid and Juan de Vozmediano. The presence of the court increased tax revenues, and thus tax surpluses, which served to increase municipal incomes. These surpluses would be used to pay for annuities, service payments, public works -some of which were already being undertaken at the express wish of the king-, the Corpus Christi organisation, etc. and to mobilize the city’s business world, which included the presence of a yet unknown world of merchants, bankers, changes, etc. Thus, the court, city and financial world were part of the public life of the city. The structures of the city were in flux before 1561; expansion in the Madrid courtier industry was higher than the figures provided by Ringrose, thanks especially to the ‘capital triad’, i.e. the development of industries related to construction, finished products and the manufacture of luxury goods.17 This appears evident in post-1561 Madrid, but earlier events can be considered a prelude to this. To paraphrase Alvar Ezquerra, the birth of the capital was preceded by a previous process of fertilisation that must be considered when assessing the state of a newborn court city.18 The Historical Archive of Notary Protocols (Madrid) maintains a wealth of documents that show urban changes and the growing influence of Madrid in the urban hierarchies.19 Many items in the archive are related to the principal agents of the emperor, for example, Francisco de los Cobos, the high nobility of Castile, Italian bankers, local artisans, courtiers, merchants, etc., and they deal with the most diverse matters including issuing powers to notaries, collecting rents, house or shops leases, wills, dowry letters and many more. The proliferation of notarial deeds in Madrid since the last decade of the fifteenth century was not mere chance. Several hundred protocols for the period before 1561 can be found in the AHP and the city already had a number of interested public notaries before 1561.20 The proliferation of deeds was not accidental because ‘the notary deed, especially important in urban societies with 17 David S. Ringrose, Madrid and the Spanish Economy (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983); cfr. Claudia W. Sieber, The Invention of a Capital: Philip II and the First Reform of Madrid (An Arbor: University M. International, 1985). José A. Nieto Sánchez, Artesanos y mercaderes. Una historia social y económica de Madrid (Madrid: Fundamentos, 2006). 18 Alfredo Alvar Ezquerra, El nacimiento de una capital europea. Madrid entre 1561 y 1606 (Madrid: Turner, 1989); José Manuel López García (Dir), El impacto de la Corte en Castilla. Madrid y su territorio en época moderna (Madrid: Siglo XXI, 1998). 19 David Alonso García, ‘Madrid y la corte en época de Carlos V. Una aproximación a partir del Archivo Histórico de Protocolos Notariales’, in Veinticinco años después. Avances en la Historia Social y Económica de Madrid, ed. by Grupo Taller de Historia Social (Madrid: Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, 2014), pp. 105–24. 20 Alfredo Alvar Ezquerra, ‘Los orígenes de la capitalidad y el Archivo de Protocolos’, in Historia y documentación notarial. El Madrid del Siglo de Oro, ed. by Antonio Eiras Roel (Madrid: Consejo General del Notariado, 1992), 73–78, p. 76; María P. Rábade Obradó, Orígenes del notariado madrileño: los escribanos públicos en el siglo XV (Madrid: Colegios Notariales de España, 200), pp. 197–208 .

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transactions between strangers within the same community or among people from afar, were necessary and one of the keys to commercial […] development’.21 Following this maxim, it becomes clear that from the late Middle Ages Madrid was undergoing changes that would form a nucleus that had nothing to do with being a ‘large village of La Mancha’.22 3. T  he court as political centre: an approach for the Urban Hierarchies The previously cited testimony from 1524 reveals another feature of this time in Madrid: the closeness between the people of Madrid and the king. The shadow of the crown, the extremely close interrelationship between the crown and town council, was not strange to the elite of the monarchy, to the town itself or for the people who had ties beyond the Manzanares River.23 For instance, Francisco Fernández de la Canal gave the regiment of Gran Canarias to someone in his same circle, in clear demonstration of the intercommunication and coordination that existed between the cities of the kingdom with regard to such practices. Fernandez de la Canal was also a council member in Madrid. Within the regiment, he stood out as one of the direct interlocutors between Madrid and the crown, reaching the post of Member of Parliament in the fifties. Along with Secretary Gaspar Vargas Ramirez – more on him below – Fernández de la Canal – was recommended to greet the prince: […] In the name of this town, they will kiss the Prince’s feet and hands, our lord, for the gift that he offers to this town when he comes here. They also will give him the congratulation on the safe arrival.24 In this context, it is noteworthy that a king’s secretary enjoys representative functions within the city. Indeed, as some authors have observed, during this period a curious symbiosis between regiment-Court and the Castilian parliament (Cortes de Castilla) was taking place.25 Madrid was transforming its position within the Castile hierarchies as a political centre, with an ongoing influence 21 Bartolomé Yun-Casalilla and Fernando Ramos Palencia, ‘El Sur frente al Norte. Instituciones, economías políticas y lugares comunes’, in Economía política desde Estambul a Potosí. Ciudades estado, imperios y mercados en el Mediterráneo y en el Atlántico ibérico, c. 1200–1800, ed. by Bartolomé YunCasalilla y Fernando Ramos Palencia (Valencia: Publicaciones de la Universidad de Valencia, 2012), pp. 11–38, (pp.16–17 ). 22 Tomás Puñal Fernández, Los artesanos de Madrid en la Edad Media (1200–1474) (Madrid: UNED, 2008); Nieto, Artesanos, pp. 67–79. 23 Mauro Hernández, A la sombra de la corona. Poder y oligarquía urbana (Madrid, 1606–1808) (Madrid: Siglo XXI, 1998). 24 ‘[…] Quellos o qualquier dellos, en nombre desta villa, vayan a besar los pies e manos de su altesa el Prínçipe nuestro señor por la merçed que a esta villa haze en veyr a ella e darle el parabién de su buena venida’. Archivo de la Villa de Madrid, Libros de Acuerdos del Ayuntamiento de Madrid, 14 de septiembre de 1551. 25 José Manuel Carretero Zamora, ‘Régimen electoral de Madrid a las procuraciones en Cortes: las ordenanzas electorales de los siglos XVI y XVII’. Espacio, Tiempo y Forma, IV Historia Moderna, 4 (1989), 173–94.

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and ability to attract people, activities and resources before 1561. For instance, the Castilian Parliament (Cortes) met in Madrid in 1510, 1528 and 1551, and the Assembly of the Clergy convened there five times during Charles’ reign.26 If we talk about political personalities of the time, we cannot fail to mention two well-known individuals in the upper echelons of the emperor’s court: Juan de Vozmediano and Alonso Gutiérrez de Madrid, who, along with the treasurer Vargas, have already been mentioned.27 Juan de Vozmediano, originally from Segovia, was an important figure within the royal administration. He was named keeper of crusade records in 1516 and treasurer of the Infante Don Fernando, played an important role in the creation of the Council of Finance, and served as secretary of the emperor. His role as intermediary between German banks and the Spanish tax office was especially important.28 In relation to Madrid, Juan de Vozmediano and his brother Alonso were also involved in the intricacies of the city’s tax management; they were nephews of Alonso de Villanueva, a key person when it comes to incomes in Madrid and in other parts of the kingdom, and collaborated with Alonso Gutierrez de Madrid.29 Juan de Vozmediano’s influence in relation to Madrid is undeniable. Besides being part of a family of rulers, his daughter, Nufla, married Don Juan Hurtado de Mendoza, third Lord of Fresno de Torote, with a substantial dowry of 16,000 ducats. The house, belonging to a branch of the Mendoza, represents one of the most important families in Madrid until at least the seventeenth century. No wonder Vozmediano appears as one of the initiators of the reforms of the Alcazar of Madrid, the predecessor of the current Royal Palace.30 Some documents in the Archive of Protocols are related to the figure of Juan de Vozmediano. In late 1535, Juan de Castilla, Governor of the Province of Castile and resident in Madrid, issued a power of attorney to Vozmediano so that he could use his good relations and serve as an intermediary for a loan of 1,000 ducats from the most important banker, Diego de la Haya. Vozmediano, who also participated in the operation as guarantor, acknowledged that the money was received in cash. The return took place through a bill of exchange, payable at the next fair of Villalón.31 The payments were used in none other than the works at Aranjuez, where Juan de Castilla served as governor.32

26 Sean T. Perrone, Charles V and the Castilian Assembly of the Clergy: Negotiations for the Ecclesiastical Subsidy (Leiden & Boston: Brill, 2008), p. 35. 27 Luisa Cuesta Gutiérrez, ‘Tres hijos de Madrid Tesoreros del Emperador Carlos V’, in Madrid en el siglo XVI (Madrid: Instituto de Estudios Madrileños, 1962), pp. 173–94. 28 La Corte de Carlos V, ed. by José Martínez Millán and C. J. de Carlos Morales, V Vols. (Madrid: Sociedad Estatal para la Conmemoración de los Centenarios de Felipe II y Carlos V, 2000), III, pp. 464–68. 29 David Alonso García, El erario del reino. Fiscalidad en Castilla a principios de la Edad Moderna (Valladolid: Junta de Castilla y León, 2007), p.173. 30 Archivo General de Simancas, Cámara de Castilla, leg. 239, nº 22, fol. 3. 31 Archivo Histórico de Protocolos de Madrid, Prot. 86, fols 290r–291v. 32 José Luis Cano de Gardoqui, ‘Visitas de don Francisco de Luzón, gobernador de la Provincia de Castilla, a las obras reales de Aranjuez, el Alcázar de Madrid y la Casa Real de El Pardo (1548–1549)’, BSAA Arte: Boletín del Seminario de Estudios de Arte y Arqueología, 72–73 (2006–2007), 51–61 (p. 54).

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The court banker, Diego de la Haya, is a good example of how the city started to host top-level financial officers from other regions of Castile. In 1524, the city was acting as a third party in a loan made by Alonso Gutierrez de Madrid to the Argentinian, John Adurza, for an amount of 2,600 ducats.33 Diego de la Haya was a figure of reference on the Castilian financial map. From Valladolid, he was ‘one of the most active bankers of the Court’,34 and frequently acted as an agent for the Fuggers, who had an indirect presence in the city at that time.35 The figure of Diego de la Haya shows that even before 1566, a date proposed by Ruiz Martin,36 there were ‘court banks’ in the city that held important links with the Madrid oligarchy and international trade networks, along with royal institutions. Diego de la Haya was also one of the favourite agents for Alonso Gutierrez de Madrid when setting up his personal or crown businesses. In those years, the two were focused on managing annuities, particularly when Diego de la Haya received a consignment of 76,000 maravedíes on behalf of General Gutiérrez de Madrid, corresponding to that concept.37 This relationship with Diego de la Haya would continue into the next decade; On November 18, 1538, a notarial act was prepared to make him the custodian of around 400,000 maravedis from Pedro Juan Riberol, who was Genovese, which would later be paid at the Chantre in the Canaries. That meant that Gutiérrez de Madrid and Diego de la Haya acted as third parties in an operation that would take place as far away as the Canary Islands.38 Alonso Gutierrez de Madrid was certainly one of the leading exponents of this first link between court, city, financial world and elite during the reign of Charles V. His biography is a long list of significant posts such as the fact that he was part of the oligarchy in Toledo and Madrid, and he held other positions in Seville that had been rejected by Pedro Afán de Ribera.39 He gradually shifted his orbit to Madrid, establishing a palace in the city. His home was eventually transformed into the Descalzas Reales convent linked to the royal family.40

33 Archivo General de Simancas, Consejo Real, leg. 102, fol. 20, 14r. 34 Hermann Kellenbenz, Los Fugger en España y Portugal hasta 1560 (Salamanca: Junta de Castilla y León, 2000), p. 256. 35 Kellenbenz, pp. 256 and 477. 36 Felipe Ruiz Martín, ‘La banca en España hasta 1782’, in El Banco de España. Una Historia Económica (Madrid: Banco de España, 1970) pp. 1–196 (p. 41). For more information on banking in Madrid during the sixteenth century century, Elena García Guerra, ‘Los bancos públicos en Madrid durante el reinado de Felipe II. Características, actividades y relaciones con las finanzas municipales’, in Banca, crédito y capital: la Monarquía Hispánica y los antiguos Países Bajos (1505–1700), ed. by Carmen Sanz Ayán and Bernardo J. García García (Madrid: Fundación Carlos de Amberes, 2006), pp. 299–328 and ‘La intermediación dineraria, crediticia y mercantil durante los siglos XVI y XVII: el oficio de corredor en la Villa y Corte de Madrid, in Il mercato di crédito in Età Moderna. Reti e operatori finanziari nello spazio europeo, ed. by Elena García Guerra and Alessandro di Luca (Milan: FrancoAngeli, 2010), pp. 259–86. 37 Archivo Histórico Nacional, Dirección General de Deuda, c. 641, exp. 11. 38 Archivo Histórico Protocolos de Madrid, Prot.134, f. 114r. 39 Alonso, El erario, p. 198. 40 María Ángeles Toajas Roger, ‘Memoria de un palacio: las Descalzas Reales’, Reales Sitios, 142 (1999), 18–33.

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Additionally, he had a son, Bernardino de Mendoza and Toledo, who was defined as ‘a very important person’ and was also regidor of the town.41 Returning to Diego de la Haya, the secretary Gaspar Ramírez de Vargas, whom we saw above as one of the agents in Madrid for the future Philip II, had dealings with de la Haya. Furthermore, Ramirez de Vargas was also clerk at the Courts of Castile.42 We can find him also acting on behalf of his brother, Baltasar Ramirez de Vargas, empowering the court bankers to charge taxes on Guadalajara, where Diego de la Haya had to replace Juan de Pastrana, a resident of that city43. As this brief review of financers shows Madrid was already turning into a central node with some of the most important Castilian financiers relocating to the city in first half of the sixteenth century. 4. Madrid as a node of attraction before 1561 Other elements show the growing influence of Madrid in the kingdom before 1561.44 Economic activity had also begun to change substantially during the first half of the sixteenth century. The role of the Court allowed the residents of the city to establish contacts with foreign merchants. If commercial networks were defined by the possibility of gaining access to products and information,45 it is clear that the arrival of the court facilitated contact between neighbours in the wake of court business agents and spurred other business opportunities. The presence of so many non-residents also changed the nature of the rental market in the city. In the late Middle Ages, the rental market had depended on the relations between artisans and merchants. Now, the rental market began to change with the first signs of merchants interested in renting shops depending on the presence of the court.46 The Torrellas family, whose name echoes its Aragonese origins, began renting shops in Madrid as soon as the court reached the city.47 Other foreign merchants set their eyes on living in the city with its access to the royal court in order to establish social and political relations. Perhaps the most spectacular case was the Aragonese Dueñas family who were rewarded with a seat on the city on the city council in the forties because of their role in Madrid and in the Vatican curia during a lawsuit on rediezmos. They used their connections in various areas to grow politically in the city. The Dueñas were also related to the Arteaga family and its important commercial lineage in Segovia. Both families were part of a great operation with other Spanish and

41 Alonso, Una corte, p. 65. 42 Manuel Fernández Álvarez, Corpus Documental de Carlos V 1554–1558, V. Vols (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 1973–1981), IV, p. 385. 43 Archivo Histórico de Protocolos de Madrid, prot. 86, f. 309r. 44 Alonso, Una corte, pp. 120 ff. 45 Hilario Casado Alonso, ‘Los flujos de información en las redes comerciales castellanas de los siglos XV y XVI’, Investigaciones de Historia Económica, 10 (2008), 35–68. 46 Puñal, Los artesanos, pp. 269–75. 47 Archivo Histórico de Protocolos de Madrid, prot. 86, f. 765v.

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Italian merchant-bankers to supply 19.000 ducats to outfit the galleys of Don Alvaro de Bazán for his expedition to America.48 Francisco de Arteaga, despite being a resident of Segovia, kept a house open in Madrid where, even when he was absent from the city, his servants were able to receive notifications and his agents conduct his business.49 It is certainly significant that a merchant as important as Arteaga had recognised Madrid as a location before 1561. The city was established as an important centre of action under the influence of the court. Sometimes figures like Arteaga served as a link between people, institutions and countries, which helped Madrid to grow in the hierarchy of cities of the Monarchy. With the information they possessed and the contacts they maintained in multiple setting, these people were essential in creating territorial elements based on their social relationships.50 Francisco de Arteaga had links with people such as Hernán Cortés.51 According to documents, even Mexico appeared on the Madrid skyline. Hernan Cortes had filed important lawsuits against the Council de Indias52 and Arteaga, the Segovian merchant in Madrid, played an important role as intermediary between institutions, individuals, cities and even continents. Francisco de Arteaga continued to maintain commercial and financial contacts with America until at least 1547,53 but he was not the only one who stood out for his knowledge or presence in activities between two continents. Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo a native of Madrid, was governor of Cartagena de Indias, and author of the famous Historia General y Natural de las Indias (General and Natural History of the Indies). According to some authors, his works ‘anticipated the future capital status in the Habsburg Empire that Madrid would have’.54 Genoese presence in court constitutes a particularly important chapter with regard to the character that Madrid was taking on by the mid-sixteenth century. The presence of this group was related to the high finance of the crown and the relationship with its territories. From the era of Charles V, and especially since 1550, there was already a first presence of a Genoese colony in Madrid. In addition to strictly economic factors, their presence create new jobs for translators because many documents needed to be translated from Latin or Italian, which provides evidence of the operations that came from Genoa. For instance, this happened 48 David Alonso García, ‘De mercaderes a regidores. El pleito de los rediezmos en Roma y la familia Dueñas Aragón’, in La Villa y la Tierra de Madrid en los albores de la capitalidad (siglos XIV-XVI), ed. by Eduardo Jiménez Rayado (Madrid: Al-Mudayna, 2010), pp. 109–28. 49 Archivo Histórico de Protocolos de Madrid, prot. 86, f. 1137r. 50 Mathias Middell and Katja Naumann, ‘Global History and the Spatial Turn: from the Impact of Areas Studies to Study of Critical Junctures of Globalization’, Journal of Global History, 5 (2010), 149–70. 51 Archivo Histórico de Protocolos de Madrid, prot. 86, fols 1136r and v. 52 José Luis Martínez, Hernán Cortés (México-Madrid-Buenos Aires: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1992), p. 569. 53 Anastasio Rojo Vega, Guía de mercaderes y mercaderías en las ferias de Medina del Campo. Siglo XVI (Valladolid: Fundación Museo de las Ferias, 2004), p. 12. About influence of people from Madrid in America during Charles’s period, María Asenjo-González, David Alonso García and Sean Perrone, ‘Town and Country: Connecting Late Medieval Castilian Urban Experience with Sixteenth-Century Colonization of the Americas’, Bulletin for Spanish and Portuguese Historical Studies, 44–1 (2019), article 2. 54 Óscar Perea Rodríguez, ‘Madrid en la obra genealógica de Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo’, in Organización social, 301–29, p. 319.

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with Nicolas de Grimaldo.55 This Genoese presence also boosted contacts with officers at the court, allowing to expand their both social and economic knowledge about worlds that were seemingly far removed but, in practice, closer than they might seem. Apart from the Genovese, there were also Florentine merchants in the city since, at least, 1539, as the following testimony shows: In the noble town of Madrid, on the twentieth day of the month of July of fifteenth thirty nine year, the remarkable sir Estevan de Almedya, Bishop of Astorga elected, and, on the other side, Geronimo Chaco, Florentine merchant, in his name and in name of his company has signed this agreement: Geronimo Chaco is obligated to get from our Holy Father the bulls of the quoted bishopric […].56 The presence of international bankers in Madrid increased from 1561.57 Genovese bankers started to work in the city in connection with their relatives in Italy. And, because so many documents needed to be translated for Spanish notaries, the Archives of Protocols provide a wealth of information about local life in Genoa. For example, during the first months of 1565, the people of Madrid knew a lot about Vicenzo de Negro’s death.58 This Genoese was included within the rich aristocracy of the city and his relatives, in the future, would be considered as someone with a Centurion surname who would receive an aristocratic title in Spain.59 Information from many countries arrived in Madrid because of the court. Madrid was already part of a global system of influences and information due to its condition as international political centre.60 However, precedents to this situation can be detected before 1561. 5. Madrid, the grain market and urban hierarchies The supply of cereal was one of the major concerns for any city of the Old Regime. Political centres were especially sensitive places in a context dominated by poorly integrated markets and transport difficulties. The creation of a stable Royal Court that did not deplete local resources required better organisation 55 Archivo Histórico de Protocolos Notariales, prot. 85, f. 766r. 56 ‘En la noble villa de Madrid a veynte e dos días del mes de jullio año del nasçimiento de nuestro señor Ihesu Xpo de myll e quinientos e treynta e nueve años […] se conçertaron el reverendísimo señor don Estevan de Almeyda, eleto [sic] Obispo de Astorga de la vna parte e de la otra Gerónimo Chaco, mercader florentín, por sy e en nombre de su companya de la otra en esta manera: quell dicho Gerónimo Chaco se encarga e toma a su cargo de despachar del nuestro muy santo padre las bulas del dicho obispado […]’. Archivo Histórico de Protocolos Notariales, prot. 86, f. 795r. 57 About Genovese clanship in Madrid during XVIIth century, Carlos Álvarez Nogal, ‘Las compañías bancarias genovesas en Madrid a comienzos del siglo XVII’, Hispania: Revista española de historia, 65, 219 (2005), 67–90. 58 Archivo Histórico de Protocolos Notariales, prot. 90, fols 24r–27r. 59 Carmen Sanz Ayán, Un banquero en el Siglo de Oro. Octavio Centurión, el financiero de los Austrias, (Madrid: La Esfera de los Libros, 2015), pp. 212–13. 60 For more information and influences from a global point of view, S. Gruzinski, Les quatre parties du monde: Histoire d’une mondialisation (París: Éditions de la Martinière, 2004).

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of the supply chain, starting with cereal, the main product in the European diet. The challenges for Madrid were not unique. Across Europe, great changes were underway regarding the supply of bread and cereal to the great European capitals in terms of transport, market integration and information flows as an essential part of the relationship between these cities and their agricultural environment.61 Until the end of the Old Regime, the food market in European cities was regulated by local corporations, whose elites combined their obligation to supply food with their ability to influence and promote the various social sectors.62 Granaries had existed in Hispanic cities from late medieval times, in certain cases, and they had spread to the rest of the country since the era of the Catholic Monarchs.63 Madrid had a granary since the end of the fifteenth century that stored wheat and barley from the collection of taxes, grain purchases, leasing of council lands, etc.64 So the city was ready to intervene directly to control the supply of cereal. This will become a matter of capital importance for Charles V and Philip II from the time Madrid begins to be a habitual seat for the court. Therefore, in 1539, a pragmatic sanction was issued in Madrid that required all inhabitants of the kingdom to declare the bread they had.65 It seems coincidental that this measure came at the very moment when there were intense debates in the court over where Prince Philip and the Infantas should stay. Changes in the Madrid hierarchy are clearly discernible by analysing supply sector throughout the sixteenth century, as we shall see below. Madrid, like other Castilian cities, was in possession of a jurisdictional domain that facilitated the requisitioning or buying grain or bread. However, the presence of the court and the demographic growth during the reign of Charles V forced the area of influence to be expanded to include others that, until that time, were not part of the area of Madrid. This included the area closest to the city and many of the neighbourhoods that today form the outskirts of Spain’s capital city. To guarantee the supply of wheat, barley, straw and baked bread, the city had to look for supplies outside its traditional sphere of influence by going beyond its low medieval hinterland (the ‘land’). The influence of Madrid and its role in all urban hierarchies of the kingdom started to increase with the creation of the cereal supply systems, as defined by the current historiography66. Beginning in 1528 the existing system was insufficient to feed the growing population in 61 Karl G. Persson, Grain Markets in Europe, 1500–1900. Integration and Deregulation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999). 62 Jean de Vries, ‘The Political Economy of Bread in the Dutch Republic’, ed. by O. Gelderblom, The Political Economy of the Dutch Republic (Farham: Ashgate, 2009), pp. 85–114. 63 Concepción de Castro, El pan de Madrid. El abasto de las ciudades españolas del Antiguo Régimen (Madrid: Alianza Universidad, 1987), pp. 95ff. 64 Tomás Puñal Fernández, ‘El abastecimiento de pan en la época de los Reyes Católicos’, Anales del Instituto de Estudios Madrileños, 28 (1990), 515–534 (p. 525). 65 AVM, Secretaría, 4–124–12. 66 David R. Ringrose, España, 1700–1900: el mito del fracaso (Madrid: Alianza Universidad, 1996), pp. 337–45; Seven Agir, ‘Una perspectiva comparada sobre la política de precios en los cereales: Estambul y Madrid, 1500–1700’, in Economía política desde Estambul a Potosí. Ciudades estado, imperios y mercados en el Mediterráneo y en el Atlántico ibérico, c. 1200–1800, ed. by Fernando Ramos and Bartolomé Yun Casalilla (Valencia: Universitat de València, 2012), pp. 303–31.

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the city. As a result, a mixed or dual supply system began to operate. The cereal deposited in the granary, under municipal ownership, continued to be the key institution to keep the city well supplied. In the early sixteenth century, however, this granary had to be filled with purchases made in locations far from Madrid. In August 1543, for example, the city council dictated the following resolution: […] They should go to the places in a ten-league radius around this village and announce that anybody who wants to sell wheat should come to this town in Madrid and bring the wheat. And after arriving here, Hernán Méndez, steward of the warehouse, will pay for it […].67 In the era of Felipe II, the area used for the purchase of grain was extended across both Old and New Castile,68 based on the inertia that had begun during the era of Carlos V. We believe that this process is connected to an increase in Madrid’s radius of action to ensure supplies for the city and members of the court who were arriving in great numbers. In 1540, in fact, barley was purchased for the chivalry of the court from El Toboso and Madridejos, in the province of Toledo, over 100 km. away.69 These purchases in distant places helped to create an image of Madrid as a central space within the Castilian world, following, on a smaller scale, other European models that were evidently in the process of expanding their spheres of influence.70 In addition to the supply from the municipal granary the court began to eat what was called ‘registered bread’. Historians found that this supply system had been used since 1581, occupying an important place in the Madrid market in connection with many areas of Castile.71 However, evidence of very similar systems can be found from at least 1528. In that year, orders were issued by the Royal Court Judges under the Council of Castile to towns both in and outside the area to send baked bread to Madrid in order to supply the court. In our opinion, this is clear proof of Madrid’s expansion, with the capacity to attract products, people and influence thanks to the court. Historiography has qualified the existence of this registered bread prior to 1561 as mere background information. However, these early examples of orders for registered bread already had the same basic characteristics as the system established after 1581: The order for registered bread on subsequent occasions and those observed during the reign of Charles V came from the Royal Court Judges. The justification 67 ‘[…] An de yr a las partes y lugares que son diez leguas alrededor desta villa y allí hazer pregonar que qualesquier personas que quisyeren vender trigo a luego pagar, que vengan a esta dicha villa de Madrid y traygan el dicho trigo. Y luego que llegando aquy se lo pagará Hernán Méndez, mayordomo del depósito […]’. AVM, Secretaría, 2–92–7. 68 Alvar, El nacimiento, pp. 110–11. 69 AVM, Secretaría, 2–92–1. 70 Jean de Vries, Ad Van der Woude, The First Modern Economy. Succes, failure, and Perserverance of the Dutch Economy, 1500–1815 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp. 172–92. 71 Castro, El pan de Madrid; José Ignacio Andrés Ucendo, Ramón Lanza García, ‘El abasto de pan en el Madrid del siglo XVII’, Studia Historica. Historia Moderna, 34 (2012), 61–97; José U. Bernardos Sanz, ‘Territorio e infraestructura de almacenamiento de pan a Madrid (siglos XVI-XVIII)’, Mélanges de l’École française de Rome. Italie et Méditerranée, 120 (2/2018), 541–54.

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dav i d a lon so garc ía Table 1. Characteristics of registered bread

Registered bread from 1528 and 1539 (Characteristics) The term ‘assize’ appears in the documentation Control by the Royal Court Judges Baked bread Daily coupons Boundaries defined by communities or leagues Selling point: public squares Prices: free market

Registered bread since 1581 (Characteristics) The term ‘assize’ appears in the documentation Control by the Royal Court Judges Baked bread Daily and weekly coupons Boundaries defined by leagues Selling point: Plaza Mayor Prices: Fixed

Source: Castro, 1987, pp. 190–98. AVM, Secretaría, 2–91–32 y AVM, Secretaría, 4–124–12.

was also similar: ‘the lack of supply of this court’ and the term ‘registered’ even appears in the phrasing of the order. Send these mentioned bushels of cooked bread in this way, each day, each one of you. The said councils should distribute the bread among the people who you think can do this safely [Note: this refers to the rich people], and taking into consideration the people who have been interested so far in bringing it for sale, may continue to do so. And if these are not enough, whatever other people you consider. And those that brought it can sell it as they may in the public squares of this town. And when bringing the product, they should report to Antonio del Ala, bailiff of this court, who they will find in the aforementioned squares, and it will be registered without paying any fees […]72 As you can see, there are noteworthy parallels, and some differences, between registered bread during the era of Charles V and subsequent periods. Both stemmed from the jurisdiction of the Hall of Royal Court Judges, perhaps with the nuance that, prior to 1561, management and control of the individual was explicitly commissioned to one of the mayors. Local distribution during Charles’s reign occurred on a daily basis while in later times it could be daily or weekly. Perhaps one of the most surprising elements from this period was the possibility of selling this bread ‘freely at a fair and reasonable price in the city of Madrid […]’,73 without abiding by pre-established prices, as in later times. The provision of bread to the court of Charles V coincided with the first 72 ‘Las quales dichas fanegas de pan cozido en la manera que dicha es ynbiad a esta corte cada día cada uno de vos, los dichos conçejos repartiéndolo sobre las personas que os paresca que lo podrán cumplir más syn daño, e aviendo respeto a que las personas que an tenydo ynterese asta [a]hora trayéndolo a vender, sirvan de aquy adelante. Y no bastando estas, se reparta por las personas que os paresca como dicho es, e los lo que lo truxeren, lo vendan como pudieren en las plaças públicas de esta villa. E en trayéndolo se presente ante Antonio del Ala, alguazil desta corte, el qual allarán en las dichas plaças, e lo registrarán syn llevarles por ello cosa alguna […]’. AVM, Secretaría, 2–91–32. 73 AVM, Secretaría, 4–124–12.

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sparks of resistance by some of the towns outside the area of Madrid who were affected by the obligation to bring bread to the court. Around 1540, the Royal Court Judges gave the order ‘to take items’ from the mayors and councilmen of 28 municipalities around Madrid who had not obeyed the order to bring baked bread ‘to this city for the provision of his majesty’s court’.74 The need to feed that court while it was in Madrid prior to 1561 implied a progressive increase in the areas of influence and the amount of wheat and bread that had to be brought to the city, surpassing its boundaries and thus its traditional medieval jurisdiction. Thus, the registered bread order of 1528 was sent to the following councils: Table 2. Councils included in Registered Bread Order (1528)75

Village Arroyomolinos Borox Brunete Carabanchel de Abajo Carabanchel de Arriba Chinchón Ciempozuelos Cubas Galapagar Getafe Griñón Humanes La Despernada [Villanueva de la Cañada] Las Moralejas Leganés Morata Móstoles Odón Parla Pinto Rejón San Martín de la Vega Seseña Valdemorillo Valdemoro Villaverde TOTAL

74 AVM, Secretaría, 4–124–12. 75 Source: AVM, Secretaría, 2–91–32.

Cooked Bread Daily (in fanegas) 3 4 7 2 2 10 4 2 4 10 2 3 3 3 3 4 7 6 4 10 6 4 4 10 10 6 133

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Map 1. Registered Bread and Madrid District (1528) Source: Table 2.

This map shows that the obligation to supply baked bread to the court -registered bread- extended far beyond the area of Madrid. In 1528, it affected 27 localities to the south and west of the city, mainly. It included some towns (Carabancheles, Leganés, Getafe, Boadilla, etc.) within the city’s jurisdiction, but many were not within the jurisdictional limits of the city, although they could belong to the sexmos, boundaries under the influence of Madrid. Registered bread reached places currently in the province of Toledo like Seseña and Borox, about 40 kilometres from Madrid. Móstoles, currently in the vicinity of the capital, was part of the Toledo fiscal area. On many occasions, noble communities now found themselves obliged to supply the city. Specifically, the place most affected was Chinchón County, since many of the communities forced to send baked bread in 1528 were within its jurisdiction. The 1528 order was only the beginning of a long process that extend Madrid’s influence. In 1529, an order was also issued to many towns around Madrid to bring barley, flour and straw for the horses, with most of them coinciding with registered bread from the previous year. There is no doubt as to the reason for this: ‘supplies are required for people in this court’.76 During subsequent years, the area affected by the registered bread would be much larger. A comparison of the areas included in the 1528 decree and the 1539 decree clearly shows the growing reach of the city (see map 2):77 76 ‘[…] son menester bastimentos para la jente que viene en su corte’. AVM, Secretaría, 2–91–33. 77 The following places were affected by registered bread in 1539: Pinto, Valdemoro, Seseña, Borox, Ciempozuelos, Bayona [Titulcia], Chinchón, Colmenar Viejo, Pozuelo de Belmonte [Pozuelo de las Sogas; Belmonte del Tajo], Valdelaguna, Morata, Perales, Arganda, Carabaña, el Campo [Campo

r ethin k in g madr id during the sixteenth century

Map 2. Madrid District and Registered Bread (1528/1539) Source: Map 1 and AVM, Secretaría, 4–124–12

Precedents for the supply systems developed before the reign of Philip II suggest that the system for the provision of cereal began to modify the role of Madrid within the urban hierarchy of Castile. In 1539, the provision reached almost eighty municipalities in all directions, not just south and westward as in 1528. Its application was reinforced in the current province of Toledo, which included villages like El Viso and Carranque, defined in the documents with an expressive ‘lexos’ [far away], or rather, considered as completely outside the classical area of influence of Madrid. The area also expanded towards the sexmos of Segovia, north and north-west of the court and even reached the town of Alcalá de Henares. This data confirms Grantham’s theory, which suggests that towns of up to 50,000 inhabitants could be supplied from places within radius of

Real], San Martín de la Vega, Parla, Torrejón de Velasco, Yeles near Toledo, Esquivias near Toledo, Pantoja, near Toledo, Illescas near Toledo, Ugena, Cubas on the road to Toledo, Cubas, Griñón, Marquillos on the road to Toledo, Humanes, Cedillo on the road to Toledo, Serranillos on the raod to Toledo, Moraleja, Village of Álamo on the road to Toledo, Arroyomolinos, Zarzuela, Carranque ‘es lexos’ [it is far away], El Viso ‘es lexos’, Batres, Odón, La Veguilla [Santa María de la Alameda], Móstoles, Brunete, La despernada [Villanueva de la Cañada] ‘pobre lugar’ [por place], Quijorna, el Pardillo, Valdemorillo, Colmenarejo, Valmayor de Segovia, Valquexigo del Real [Galapagar], Galapagar el Real, el Hoyo (Hoyo de Manzanares), Alpedrete, Campillo, Monesterio, El Zarzal, El Morales, Collado Villalba, Colmenar Viejo, Chozas, Alcobendas, Pedrezuela ‘lugar posadero’, El Molar, Coveña, Pesadilla [San Sebastián de los Reyes], Fuentelsaz [del Jarama], Halalpardo (Alalpardo), Daganzo, Algete, Fresno de Torote, Paracuellos, Barajas, Alameda [Santa María de la Alameda], Torrejón de Ardoz, Torres ‘lugar de Alcalá’ [place in Alcalá], Loeches, Mejorada, Pozuelo de Torres [Pozuelo del Rey]. AVM, Secretaría, 4–124–12

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up to 45 kilometres.78 Since 1581, and especially during the seventeenth century, this supply system reached provinces bordering Madrid and, in general, much of central Spain as a result of the increase in the city’s population from 1561 onwards.79 Therefore, the expansion of the registered bread area was the result of a supply policy established by the court. This system did not stem from 1581, but was derived from earlier experiences that had begun to change the previous hierarchy of Madrid within the group of Castilian cities. As we have seen, this is demonstrated by the purchases made for the granary, the places of origin of economic agents who sold the bread or cereal in Madrid and, especially, by the existence of a registered bread system, whose basic structure was created in the era of Charles V. Conclusion In conclusion, the changing face of Madrid began with Charles V or even earlier. The city started to take on the shape of a Court, both from an internal and external perspective. Relationships with the centre of Spain changed and the influence of Madrid in urban hierarchies increased prior to the existence of a system where this city would become the main centre of Castile. Madrid, which still maintained predominantly local structures in the fifteenth century, was becoming an increasingly multicultural entity because of the Court in the early sixteenth century. 1561 should not be considered as a starting point for change, but a key year in a process where Madrid was growing in different areas: demographically, in economic development, as a political centre of attraction for merchants or aristocratess and by extending its area of influence beyond its medieval jurisdictional district. This influence in the kingdom will gradually increase and it would have an intense effect in the centrality of Madrid after Philip II’s reign. Nevertheless, the changes in the city and to Castile began long before 1561. A political centre was gaining influence within the whole kingdom just with the Emperor. Paradoxically, fundamental changes in the Castilian Urban system were already taking shape while the polycentric model was still in operation.

78 George W. Grantham, ‘Espaces privilégiés: productivité agraire et zones d’approvisionnement des villes dans l’Europe préindustrielle’, Annales. Histoire, Sciences Sociales, 52 (3, 2008), 695–725 (p. 708). 79 Bernardos, ‘Territorio’, pp. 544–46.

Francesco Senatore 

About the Urbanization in the Kingdom of Naples The Campanian Area in 15th-16th Centuries 1. Introduction Historians have traditionally stressed the enormous growth of Naples, the capital city of the Kingdom. Between the mid-fifteenth and mid-sixteenth century its population doubled or quadrupled to over 200,000 inhabitants in 1547.1 This demographic leap made it the most densely populated Italian city and one of the largest European metropolises. Its size conditioned both commercial activity, in order to ensure the provisioning of the capital, and, obviously, the whole political, economic and cultural history of the Kingdom. It is significant that, from the end of the fifteenth century, the immediate identification of Naples with the Kingdom, in terms of political communication, was widely recognised: the Mayor of Naples played a special role in general Parliaments and at other public ceremonies,2 and historiography concerned itself with the ‘city and kingdom of Naples’3 as if the Kingdom was nothing more than its capital and other cities did not exist. As early as the seventeenth century, the demographic disproportion of Naples compared to the rest of the Kingdom was thought of negatively, so much so that the metaphor that was coined for the city and that was very popular in the eigthteenth century was that of a huge head crushing the body of the provinces, from which it sucked all its resources.4 In the long term, this disproportion has lead to other cities of southern Italy being ignored or considered simply as subjects of political interaction with the sovereign and/or the cities’ feudal lords, with less attention given to other aspects of the urban phenomenon.

1 We follow the prudential rates of Bartolommeo Capasso, ‘Sulla circoscrizione e sulla popolazione della città di Napoli dalla fine del sec. XIII fino al 1809’, Atti dell’Accademia Pontaniana, 15 (1883), 99–225. See Karl Julius Beloch, Storia della popolazione d’Italia, (Florence: Le Lettere, 1994) (german ed. Berlin-Leipzig: Walter De Gruyter & Co., 1937), pp. 113–26, Paolo Malanima, ‘Italian Cities 1300–1800. A Quantitative Approach’, Rivista di storia economica, 14/2 (1998), pp. 91–126, Eleni Sakellariou, Southern Italy in the Late Middle Ages. Demographic, Institutional and Economic Change in the Kingdom of Naples, c. 1440–c. 1530, (Leiden-Boston: Brill, 2012). 2 Guido D’Agostino, Parlamento e società nel regno di Napoli. Secoli XV-XVII (Napoli: Guida, 1979). 3 See e.g. Giovanni Antonio Summonte, Historia della città e regno di Napoli (Naples: appresso Gio. Iacomo Carlino, 1601). 4 A Companion to Early Modern Naples, ed. by Tommaso Astarita (Leiden-Boston: Brill, 2013).

Francesco Senatore • Università degli studi Federico II, Naples, Italy Urban Hierarchy: The interaction between towns and cities in Europe in Late Medieval and Early Modern Times, ed. by María Asenjo-González, Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan & Andrea Zorzi, Studies in European Urban History (1100–1800) 53 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 109-126.

© FHG

DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.124665

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Although the urban history of this part of Italy today is often discussed, little is known about urbanisation at a lower level. There are few systematic studies of the settlement patterns of the various areas. It is certainly true that, in this part of Europe, the rank-size rule of Walter Christaller’s central place theory is by no means applicable: the inhabitants of the second and third city of the kingdom, L’Aquila in Abruzzi and Capua, which is a short distance from Naples, were far fewer than those of the capital. This paper will deal with the urban hierarchy in the Terra di Lavoro, and will take into account the so-called administrative province (the present-day territories of Caserta and Naples in Campania Region and southern Frosinone, in Lazio), i.e. the inland area more connected to the capital. I shall focus on the period of the take-off of Naples, between c. 1440 and c. 1530, the same period covered by Eleni Sakellariou. She has demonstrated that the increasing size of Naples did not block the growth of other towns of the Terra di Lavoro, and that in this period the Kingdom saw the demographic growth of small and medium-size towns, regional economic specialisation, and the development of trade and local production.5 I will confirm her points, looking into the structured urban hierarchy of this area, and comparing the settlement patterns and their hierarchies within the most important town districts. Furthermore, I will illustrate the economic and political competition between these different entities. 2. Town districts in southern Italy: the case of Capua Firstly, I need to explain what I mean by ‘town district’. The towns of southern Italy did not have political control over their areas, as did the northern and central Italian Communes in the so-called contadi. This is obvious, given that within a kingdom the power of a town could not be as great as that of Florence, Milan and Venice, which were city-states. Each southern Italian town was head of an administrative and fiscal district which sometimes corresponded to the diocese. The district is defined in the sources as pertinentiae, territorium, districtus, and even comitatus of the town, with reference to the area in which the power was held by the Capitano (Governor), who was responsible for public order and chief of the penal justice court in the King’s or the feudal lord’s name (rather like the Castilian corregidores). The town and its district are often referred to with the hendiadys città e casali (‘the town and its villages’). By casali are meant all the settlements of the district: hamlets, rural villages, also small towns which had some urban functions as a commercial organization, a corpus of privileges, the local civil court (the bagliva), a seasonal fair, and important religious foundations.6

5 Sakellariou, Southern Italy. 6 Francesco Senatore, Distrettuazioni intermedie e federazioni rurali nel Regno di Napoli (Sessa, Cava, Giffoni), in I centri minori italiani nel tardo medioevo. Cambiamento sociale, crescita economica, processi di ristrutturazione (secoli XIII-XVI). Atti del XV Convegno del Centro Studi sulla civiltà del tardo medioevo, San Miniato 22–24 settembre 2016, ed. by Federico Lattanzio and Gian Maria Varanini (Florence: Firenze University press, 2018), pp. 341–70.

ab out the ur b an iz ation in the king dom of na ples

Figure 1. The intermediary suburban districts and the extraterritorial possessions of Capua (15th cent.) © Claudio Vincenzo Lapiccirella.8

Let us consider the interesting case of Capua, the most important town of Campanian area after Naples. Its territory (Figure 1) was divided in two intermediary suburban districts (Forie) and articulated on four administrative levels (Table 1).78 Table 1. The four levels of the district of Capua (447 km2) and its extra-territorial possessions (89,9 km2) in 1493.

7 Francesco Senatore, Una città, il regno: istituzioni e società a Capua nel XV secolo (Rome: Istituto storico italiano per il medio evo, 2018), I, pp. 68–86. 8 Senatore, Una città, I, p. 79, II, p. 1058.

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The Capua and casali or Capua and Forie district is on four levels, each with its own universitates. The same legal framework of the universitas9 was used for – the whole district, – the urban centre inside the walls, called Capua corpo (core of Capua, Table 1, level 1), – every settlement of levels 3 and 4, – two intermediary suburban districts called Forie (level 2: in other places of the Kingdom they are called terzieri, baglive, province). The incorrect identification of town and universitas has hampered, and continues to hamper, understanding of these administrative areas. Such ambiguity also existed in the fifteenth century because the political élites of the urban centre (Capua corpo) held representation of the entire district in relations with the King but tended to act in their own interests to the detriment of the rural population. However, the privileges granted by the king to the representatives of Capua corpo on the one hand, and the responsibilities they took on, related both to the urban centre and to the territory as a whole. The very existence of the Capua e casali district was justified by political ends: to defend and, if possible, increase the inherited rights of the ‘citizens’ of Capua (Capua + district), which consisted in substantial tax exemption and anything that might reinforce the Capitano’s jurisdiction. Having Capuan citizenship was an enormous advantage for the inhabitants of the district: it made up for the disadvantage of being a class B citizen, as it were; its being a disadvantage because the political élites of Capua corpo tended to pass on to them a large part of the taxation due to the king and had a monopoly of public offices and business tenders. The meting out of royal taxation was a crucial issue. The total sum, based on the numbers of the fiscal households, was first shared between Capua corpo and the Forie on the basis of a fixed relationship (1:3), which was rarely modified, with the king’s intervention. The quota of Capua corpo was then shared between the urban parishes, that of each Foria between the settlements of level 3, then finally between those of level 4. Up to this point, the process was directed by the king’s officers. The sharing between single households, however, was managed by each ‘base community’, as it were: the parishes in Capua corpo, the universitates in the settlements of the district, each of them collectively responsible for their own quota. Capua corpo never intervened if one of the villages or an entire Foria was unable to pay the tax to the king. This system caused tension. For example, some inhabitants of the district’s settlements claimed they should pay with Capua corpo, of which they claimed they were citizens: this presumably meant paying less, only a fourth of the town district’s due. Those Capuan citizens who maintained they had a right to this also met in the università degli asserti cittadini (universitas of those who claimed they are citizens of Capua corpo), and in the early sixteenth century they were taken to court by the two Forie who wanted to recover a large number of taxpayers.

9 See Pierre Michaud-Quantin, ‘Universitas’: expressions du mouvement communautaire dans le Moyen Âge latin (Paris: Librairie philosophique Vrin, 1970).

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In Capua corpo and in small towns of the Forie, like Santa Maria Maggiore and Marcianise, the local universitas had a stable organisation and its own revenues and officers. The universitates of the Forie and of the villages of levels 3 and 4 worked only for the tax collection and for specific petitions to the King. In the same way, every group could associate in universitas for the defence of its legal rights. This was so with the asserti cittadini, the royal hunters, and the vassals of lords living outside the district. In the districts of Capua and Aversa lived some royal hunters, who had fiscal franchises and, for a while, a separate jurisdiction. The vassals of feudal lords (fiefs of Schiavi and Acerra), who were under the Capuan jurisdiction, were considered separately for every fiscal operation. The juridical (not territorial) entity feudo di Acerra is to be distinguished from Acerra, a small feudal town outside the Capuan district.10 A special position was held by Calvi (seat of a diocese) and Castel Volturno, of which Capua was domina on a level with a feudal lord. Few southern Italian towns held possessions of this kind (11 in 1530),11 used as a financial reserve for the needs of the urban centre. Calvi and Castel Volturno, however, also had an advantage in that Capua played a role of patronage in their favour. In conclusion, the town of Capua was the central place of a wide settlement network (63 in 447 km2) from the judicial, religious and economic points of view and above all from the point of view of political representation.12 3. The variety of town districts in southern Italy This fiscal and administrative structure was the result of a centuries-old interaction between individual settlements and the Crown: it could be interpreted as a case of statebuilding from below, if we assume this historiographical perspective,13 or as an example of the resilience of local communities, because the association in a district was a good solution for the small rural settlements.14

10 See also the case of Sessa, whose territory was articulated in three intermediary districts (terzieri of Piedimonte, Cellole, and Toraldo) and two fiefs (fief of Toraldo and fief of Montalto). There was a territorial district of Montalto and a ‘personal’ district with the same name, Senatore, Distrettuazioni, pp. 344–49. 11 Amatrice, Aversa, Capua, Chieti, Cittaducale, Cosenza, Lanciano, L’Aquila, Lecce, Napoli, Teramo (Maria Antonietta Visceglia, Identità sociali. La nobiltà napoletana nella prima età moderna (Milan: Unicopli, 1998), p. 63n.). According to Giovanni Muto, the towns having casali under their jurisdiction were much more: ‘at least 122 cities and towns administered about 1250 casali’, Giovanni Muto, ‘Urban Structures and Population’, in A Companion to Early Modern Naples, 35–61 (p. 42). 12 Senatore, Una città, I, Chapter 1. For the Royal direct taxation: Alessandra Bulgarelli Lukacs, L’imposta diretta nel regno di Napoli in età moderna (Milan: Franco Angeli, 1993), Mario Del Treppo, ‘Il regno aragonese’, in Storia del Mezzogiorno, directed by Giuseppe Galasso and Rosario Romeo, IV/1 (Rome: Edizioni del Sole, 1986), 87–201, Sakellariou, Southern Italy, pp. 97–104, 432–37. 13 Empowering interactions. Political Cultures and the Emergence of the State in Europe 1300–1900, ed. by Wim Blockmans, André Holenstein, and Jon Mathieu (Farnham: Ashgate, 2009). 14 Sakellariou, Southern Italy, p. 97, Francesco Senatore, Survivors’ Voices: Coping with the Plague of 1479– 1480 in Southern Italian Rural Communities, in Disaster Narratives in Early Modern Naples. Politics, Communication and Culture, ed. by Domenico Cecere, Chiara De Caprio, Lorenza Gianfrancesco and Pasquale Palmieri (Rome: Viella, 2018), pp. 109–26.

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Within these administrative units there were particularly intensive social and economic relationships, as can be seen from certain facts: emigration to and from the villages at the centre, collaboration between the rural and urban élites (for maintenance of the waterways and management of common land used for grazing and crops), economic penetration of the urban protagonists in the territory (acquisition of real estate, tenders, renting of estates owned by the Bishop or by the cathedral’s Chapter), and town fairs and markets with regional presences. The territory of many southern Italian towns had a structure which evolved in different ways and at different times as a response to horizontal interaction between town and surrounding centres, and to vertical interaction between the central place and the authorities. In spite of aggregation in a district, each settlement (regardless whether it depended on a feudal or on a ecclesiastical lord or if it was a royal town, like the german Freistädte and the french bonnes villes) maintained a direct relationship with the royal financial offices and with the sovereign himself, to whom they had access by means of petitions. The geographical extension of the districts, their degree of internal homogeneity, and the functions of intermediary districts changed over time more than is admitted by local historians who often give a static image of the territory. In the first place, each district was traversed by centrifugal tendencies because the more active settlements sometimes wished to break away and there was a competition between districts. In the second place, the process of territorialisation developed slowly. It involved the jurisdictional and fiscal homogenisation of the territory’s inhabitants, which was a common objective of the local élites and the authorities. This process is not to be understood as increased autonomy, but as a more effective hierarchy of settlements from the fiscal and juridical point of view, with the stabilisation of a political and economic space. This process was hampered from below by the centrifugal forces already mentioned as well as by other, separate bodies (lords and privileged groups), and from above by the endless interference of the authorities, the king in state-owned districts, the king and the lord in the feudal districts. In some districts the central place was not a town, because they consisted of rural villages of modest size, though one of these functioned at the central place thanks to the presence of the judge, the feudal lord’s palazzo and the market. These aggregations too were structured on various levels, and have been defined by some historians as città di casali (town made of villages).15 This definition is incorrect because it assumes that they had urban characteristics, whereas they were in fact federations of rural villages of a kind which were common in many parts of Europe, as in the Switzerland and in the Trentino valleys.16

15 Giuseppe Cirillo, Spazi contesi: Camera della Sommaria, baronaggio, città e costruzione dell’apparato territoriale del Regno di Napoli (sec. XV-XVIII) (Milan: Guerini, 2011); Aurelio Musi, Storia sociale e politica: la regione della capitale (Naples: Guida, 2006), p. 118. 16 Senatore, Distrettuazioni, p. 351.

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In southern Italy, the urban hierarchies are conditioned by the districts, which were different in spite of the same juridical form (universitas). They should be seen in relation to the geography, the environment, internal economic relations and the quality of the élites of the central places. Some (not all) of the districts have political and economic importance. All of them are the product of interaction between social actors and the institutional framework. 4. Village federations: the case of Cava One of the village federations – Cava de’ Tirreni, near Salerno – is of special interest: here, between the late fourteenth century and the early sixteenth century, a rural district became a town thanks to the determination of the local élites. La Cava was not the name of a settlement, but of the whole area that was subject to the lordship of the Benedictine monastery of the Santissima Trinità.17 Between the end of the eleventh and the beginning of the twelfth century the abbey acquired juridical and ecclesiastical rights on this area, called Terra Cavensis (Figure 2), and on churches, monasteries and properties otherwhere, especially in Cilento. In the late thirteenth century the villages of the area around the abbey gathered in universitas. Here is the structure of the correspondent district of La Cava at the end of the fifteenth century, when it was at the same time a royal town and the Abbey’s seigneurial estate. Differently from the district of Capua, at the apex (level 1) we do not have a town, whose political élite choose the Mayor (Sindaco) and the representatives for the whole district, but simply a commission which unites the general Mayor (Sindaco universale) and two representatives (Eletti) for each intermediary district (level 2). The mayors of the districts take turns to act as the mayor of the whole area. The intermediary districts of Cava (Province) were more stable than those of Capua, which did not last long, but they were just as heterogeneous. At level 3 there were numerous hillside villages in competition with each other and with their own strong local character. During the fifteenth century, the administrative centre gradually passed from the village of Corpo, bordering on the monastery (Casale di Cava in the Figure 2), to that of Borgo (once called Mercato, market), in the valley, where the Abbot had his seat of Civil Justice. A few villages on the outskirts tended to move away from the district, but succeeded in doing this in the nineteenth century (Vietri sul Mare, Cetara). At Cava a double jurisdiction was in force: that of the monastery and that of the king, a situation which was not rare in ancient regime Europe (Montpellier, in Languedoc, for example, was divided between the king of France and the

17 Paul Guillaume, Essai historique sur l’abbaye de Cava d’après des documents inédits (Cava dei Tirreni: Abbaye des RR. Peres Benedictins, 1877), Vito Loré, Monasteri, principi, aristocrazie. La Trinità di Cava nei secoli XI e XII (Spoleto: Centro di studio sull’alto Medioevo, 2008). The case of Cava is discussed in Senatore, Distrettuazioni, pp. 351–64.

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Figure 2. The terra Cavensis in 1111. (Is published in Vito Loré, ‘La Trinità di Cava nel 1111. Soluzione di conflitti e definizione di un confine’, Reti medievali Rivista, 7 (2006/1), pp. 1–11 (https://doi.org/10.6092/1593-2214/161).

ab out the ur b an iz ation in the king dom of na ples Table 2. The four levels of the district of La Cava (50 km2), end 15th cent.

king of Majorca).18 In 1394 the diocese was instituted: the Abbot was made a bishop and the seigniorial estates of the monastery, which stretched from Cava to the Cilento, became a diocese without territorial continuity. The papal bull extablished that the district (terra Cavensis), because if its large population and high quality, would be honoured with the title of civitas.19 In reality, the city did not even exist, which is why formal recognition was indispensible, and in this case it was linked to a traditional identity somewhere between civitas and episcopatus. That is tipical of the political language in whole medieval Italy.20 18 André Gouron, Administration d’Aragon/Majorque et administration capetienne: le cas de Montpellier autour de 1293, in El dret comú i Catalunya, ed. by Aquilino Iglesias Ferreirós. Actes del VII simposi international, Barcelona 23–24 maig de 1997 (Barcelona: Fundació Noguera, 1998), pp. 165–82. 19 The papal bull says that the name of a place should fit to its quality (‘singulis locis pro eorum qualitate correspondent tituli dignitatum’), and that the terra Cavensis ‘personarum numerositate & aliis divinis muneribus ultra civitate quamplurimas partium illarum sit facunda, satisque amplum habeat territorium’, that is the territory of the monastery with its castle and wealth. So it instituted the new diocese and stated: ‘terram in civitatem erigimus, & civitatis titulo et insigni decoramus eamque […] civitatem Cavensem perpetuis futuris temporibus volumus nuncupari’, Boniface IX, 7 August 1394, in Italia sacra, ed. by Ferdinando Ughelli, I (Venetiis: apud Sebastianum Coleti, 1717), pp. 612–14, Bullarum privilegiorum ac diplomatum Romanorum pontificum amplissima collectio, ed. by Charles Cocquelines (Rome: Typis S. Michaelis ad Ripam, Sumptibus Hieronymi Mainardi, 1739–47), III, Part ii, pp. 392–93. 20 The issue of Chittolini about the ‘nesso forte e biunivoco fra città e sede vescovile’, can be extended to southern Italy too, Giorgio Chittolini, ‘Il nome di città. La denominazione dei centri urbani d’oltralpe in alcune scritture italiane dei primi del Cinquecento’ (2001), in Chittolini, L’Italia delle civitates. Grandi e piccoli centri fra Medioevo e Rinascimento (Rome: Viella, 2015), p. 14. See Marco Folin, ‘Sui criteri di classificazione degli insediamenti urbani nell’Italia centro-settentrionale (secoli XIV-XVIII)’, Storia urbana, 92 (2000), 5–23.

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fr a n c esco sen ator e Table 3. Population of La Cava’s district.

Year

Households

1271 1447 1481 1508 1532 1545 1561 1595

362 820 1000 1435 2112 1827 2665 3196

Inhabitants (households by 5) 1810 4100 5000 7175 11,060 9135 13,325 15,980

In 1497 the reform of the monastery and the consequent suppression of the bishopric provoked a fierce reaction by the population since they wished to keep the seat of the diocese and with it the title of city. After fifteen years of battles, some of them violent, against the monks, Cava won back the diocese, though now separated from the monastery’s estate (1514). The cathedral was built in the valley, where stood a Franciscan convent and patrician palaces.21 We may say that the élites took over, one by one, the urban functions, withdrawing first from the influence of Salerno (during the thirteenth-fourteenth century), of which Cava was the immediate hinterland, and then from that of the monastery thanks to the frequent political dialogue with the king (fifteenth-sixteenth century). The demographic take-off of Cava is shown in table 4:22 The demographic history of southern Italy is mostly based on concise lists of households like this one. These lists give us no information either on population distribution between urban centre and rural district, or on the flow of people to and from the centre and the outskirts of the district. At Cava the district was established in the late fourteenth century, so the year 1271 cannot be used as a term of comparison because it corresponds to a different area. Such a rapid growth of the population from 1481 to 1532 can be explained only by marked immigration. But what happened internally? Borgo’s structure became urban in the second half of the sixteenth century, but we do not know the percentage of residents.23 21 Salvatore Milano, La chiesa di Santa Maria de Jesu, Santuario di San Francesco e Sant’Antonio in Cava de’ Tirreni (Cava de’ Tirreni: Area blu, 2017), Milano, La cattedrale di Santa Maria della Visitazione in Cava de’ Tirreni (Cava de’ Tirreni: Gaia, 2014). The bull of pope Leone X for the new diocese has been in the latter book definitely dated by me to 22 March 1514 instead of 1513 (in Milano, La cattedrale, pp. 155–58). For the rebellion of the Cava’s inhabitants against the Abbey, the expulsion of the monks and the excommunication by the pope in 1508 see Guillaume, pp. 289–91 and Dall’Archivio Storico comunale. Regesto delle delibere del 1508 e del 1516–17, ed. by Rita Taglé (Cava de’ Tirreni: Comune di Cava, 1997), pp. 15–39. 22 I registri della cancelleria angioina ricostruiti da Riccardo Filangieri con la collaborazione degli archivisti napoletani, ed. by Jole Mazzoleni, VII (Naples: Accademia Pontaniana, 1955), p. 236, Sakellariou, Southern Italy, Table A–6, Rita Taglé, ‘I fuochi nel 1516’, in Alfonso Leone, Appunti per la storia di Cava, I (Cava de’ Tirreni: Avagliano, 1983), pp. 51–53. 23 Senatore, Distrettuazioni, pp. 367–68.

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5. Urbanization in Terra di Lavoro Demography scholars, from Beloch (1937) to Sakellariou (2012), have always known that the lists of district households tell us nothing about the population of southern Italian urban centres, but they were unable to do without them since they are the only available sources. There were few local real estate registers even before the archive destructions of the last century.2425 Table 4. The population in the main town districts of Terra di Lavoro, c. 149025

District Napoli (1505) Capua Aversa Sessa Gaeta Nola Teano

Households Inhabitants Intermediary Villages/ Inhabitants of districts casali (year) the urban centre 10,016 50,080 Terzieri? 28 40,000 75 per cent 3000 2000 1560

15,000 10,000 7800

1188 1086 1050

5940 5430 5250

2 Forie 3 Terzieri 3 Terzieri and 2 fiefs no no 1 Foria

63 (1493) 43 (1459) 47 (1447)

3750 25 per cent 3333 33 per cent 2964 38 per cent

6 (1490) 17 (1527) 15 (1490)

3979 67 per cent ?? ??

So in the analyses of southern Italian urbanisation the federations of villages such as, in Campania, Cava, Sanseverino, Giffoni and Cilento appear in the first 21 ‘towns’ of the kingdom from the 14th to the 16th centuries.26

24 The most ancient documentation of the Neapolitan Archivio di Stato, stored in a location outside Naples, was burned out by a few German soldiers on 30 September 1943, in the very unclear military and political situation after the Armistice between Italy and the Allied forces (8 Sept.) and the Salerno landings (9 Sept.), Stefano Palmieri, Degli archivi napolitani. Storia e tradizione (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2002), pp. 257–92. The Communal Archives of southern Italian towns keep rarely analytic lists of households (i.e. with the names of the individuals) from the late Middle Ages and Early Modern (numerationes foculariorum). 25 Sources: Naples, Archivio di Stato, Sommaria, Diversi, I numerazione, 175/2; Dipendenze, I serie, 649/7; Sommaria, Partium, 14, fols 236r–238r; Capasso, p. 120; Nino Cortese, ‘Feudi e feudatari napoletani della prima metà del Cinquecento’, Archivio Storico per le Province Napoletane, 54 (1929), 5–150, 55 (1930), 41–128, 56 (1931), 233–48 (54 (1929), p. 48); Angelo De Santis, ‘La numerazione dei fuochi a Sessa nel 1447’, Latina gens, 16/10 (1938), pp. 248–61; Angerio Filangieri, Territorio e popolazione nell’Italia meridionale. Evoluzione storica (Milano: Angeli, 1980), p. 137. Some percentage are confirmed by the fix rate in fiscal payements: in the 15th cent. Capua corpo payed ¼ (Senatore, Una città, I, p. 11), Aversa ⅓ (Michele Guerra, Documenti per la città di Aversa, ed. by Giacinto Libertini (Frattamaggiore: Cirillo, 2002), pp. 40–41), Repertorio delle pergamene della università e della città di Aversa (Napoli: Rinaldi-Sellitto, 1881), pp. 68–69). In the 14th cent. the percentage of the royal tax payed by the casali of Naples was 26,8 per cent, Capasso, pp. 117–18. For Naples see also note 28. 26 Sakellariou, Southern Italy, p. 83, Table A–6, Maria Ginatempo and Lucia Sandri, L’Italia delle città. Il popolamento urbano tra Medioevo e Rinascimento (secoli XIII-XVI) (Firenze: Le Lettere, 1990). See Giovanni Vitolo, L’Italia delle altre città. Un’immagine del Mezzogiorno medievale (Naples: Liguori, 2014), pp. 1–9.

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Let us look at the distribution of the populations of the main town districts in the administrative province of Terra di Lavoro. The number of inhabitants is approximate by default because it was obtained by multiplying the households by 5 in order to take account of other inhabitants, Jews, clerics and foreigners, the proportion of whom varied from one district to another.27 The data about Naples in 1505 need an explanation: estimates range from c. 50/60,000 to 150,000 inhabitans, and recently the scholars seemed to prefer a conjectural figure of 100,000 (only in the urban centre), assuming that in the capital lived much more tax exempted people than elsewhere, that there was an important expansion of the city walls in the 1480s, and that a demographic take-off from 50/60,000 inhabitants in 1505 to c. 240,000 in 1547 is very difficult to believe.28 Nevertheless, we prefer to list the attested households of Naples in 1505 (10,016), and multiply them by 5, as the figures of the population in the other Campanian towns come from sources of the same kind: lists of fiscal households. The ratio of centre to district varies greatly (see also Figure 3). The populations of Naples and Gaeta is concentrated inside their walls (75 and 65 per cent). At Capua corpo lived only 25 per cent of the inhabitants, at Aversa 33, at Sessa 38. We know nothing of Nola and Teano. In 1490 the six main towns outside Naples 27 Clerics were exempted from the royal direct tax, Jews and foreigners had to pay other taxes. According to Sakellariou, Southern Italy, p. 101 and other scholars, ‘the average number of individuals per household in the late Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period was between four and five’. The average number of individuals varies from place to place: 4,7 in 62 settlements (27,120 inhabitants) of the Valle di Sangro, in Abruzzo (1447), 3,8 in L’Aquila and 5,5 in its district (1508), 4,3 in Capua corpo (1523), but 6 in Naples (1547). See Nunzio Federigo Faraglia, La numerazione dei fuochi nella Valle di Sangro fatta nel 1447 (Casalbordino: tip. Nicola De Arcangelis, 1898 – from Rassegna Abruzzese, 2 (1898), pp. 208–45), pp. 13–15, Angiola De Matteis, L’Aquila e il contado. Demografia e fiscalità (secoli XV-XVIII) (Napoli: Giannini, 1973), p. 82; Capua, Museo Provinciale Campano, Archivio Storico Comunale di Capua, 1441, fols 2–111; Capasso, pp. 137–39. 28 The question is discussed in Sakellariou, Southern Italy, pp. 104–07. Capasso, p. 120 estimates the total population in 1505 in 50/60,000 inhabitants (Naples + district) on the base of the figures indicated by late modern scholars (8000 fiscal households in Naples according to Lorenzo Giustiniani, Dizionario geografico-ragionato del regno di Napoli (Naples: Vincenzo Manfredi 1797–1805), 10 vols (I, p. cxxxviii, note); 2016 in the casali, according to Michele Macciucca Vargas in a work we could not find). Beloch, pp. 114–15 estimates in 150,000 the population of the urban centre in c. 1500, because he subtractes 65,000 victims of the invasion of the French commanderin-chief Odet de Foix, vicomte de Lautrec, in 1527 (a figure found in an historian of the 17th cent., G. A. Summonte) from the 240,000 inhabitants he calculated for 1547 (he adds to the well documented data given by Capasso, pp. 137–39, 201 – i.e. 212,213 + 3000 monks and friars –, 15,000 children minor than three years old and 10,000 prisoners). This estimate is accepted by Jan de Vries, European Urbanization 1500–1800 (London: Methuen, 1984), p. 277 and Paolo Malanima, ‘Italian Cities 1300–1800. A Quantitative Approach’, Rivista di Storia Economica, 14/2 (1998), 91–126 (p. 114), and corrected in 125,000 inhabitants by Paul Bairoch, Jean Batou, and Pierre Chèvre, La population des villes européennes. Banque de données et analyse sommaire des resultats 800–1850 (Genève: Droz, 1988), p. 45. The art historian Cesare the Seta concludes the discussion about the low figure given by Capasso saying: ‘sicché – ma rimane una congettura – non è azzardato calcolare una popolazione che si aggiri sui 100.000 abitanti’ in c. 1500, Cesare De Seta, Napoli (Roma-Bari: Laterza, 1999, 3rd ed.) p. 90. De Seta’s estimate is shared by Giuseppe Galasso and Sakellariou, Southern Italy, p. 106.

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Figure 3. Urbanization in some town districts of Terra di Lavoro, c. 1490. The circle indicates the total demographic size (town + district), the dark section inside indicates the demographic size of the urban centre © Claudio Vincenzo Lapiccirella.

were of similar dimensions: not even Capua and Aversa, the third and fourth towns of the kingdom, reached the threshold of 5000 inhabitants. If we adopt the classification of Sakellariou, all six were still medium-size towns.29 While the urban centres of Capua, Aversa, Sessa, and Gaeta were of similar sizes (all much smaller than Naples), in the districts there were different settlement patterns, which changed over time as their extent and internal hierarchy changed. The Naples and Capua districts are extensive, but that of Capua has more highly populated settlements. That of Gaeta is tiny. At a distance of a few years, Naples has 35 casali, while Capua has fewer. Some settlements are grouped together, others have become autonomous units for fiscal reasons. The district of Capua extends beyond the diocese, while that of Nola covers only a part of it: outside are Avella, Lauro (with 14 small settlements), Ottaviano and Palma, which are part, not only of the diocese, but also of the county of Nola. We miss further information about the distribution of the population in the settlements of the district. Despite the lack of sources, we could have an idea of the variety of the rural settlements in the hinterland of the capital, comparing the situation of Aversa, Capua and Sessa: 29 Sakellariou, Southern Italy, p. 83.

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fr a n c esco sen ator e Table 5. Settlement patterns in the town districts of Aversa, Capua and Sessa, 15th-16th cent.30

Town (year) Aversa (1459) Capua (1523) Sessa (1447)

Households Number Average of the of villages households suburban (casali) per village district (casali) 1143 43 27 2657

45

59

1189

47

25

Biggest villages (households)

Smallest villages (households)

Giugliano (230) Servignano (4) Sant’Antimo (80) Casoria (3) Marcianise (411) Grummo (16) Santa Maria Pastorano (11) (189) Cellole (97) Corbara (8) Corigliano (57) San Felice (8) Lauro (57)

The Aversa district has settlements of very small dimensions: with the exclusion of Giugliano (230 households), the other casali have between 4 and 50 households. Inside the district of Capua, Marcianise could be considered a ‘quasi città’ in the sense of Giorgio Chittolini’s model31 because of its population (411 households = 2055 inhabitants), the presence of an important hospital, the Annunziata,32 and as it was the administrative centre of other small villages.33 Santa Maria Maggiore was the old Roman Capua, abandoned by the urban élites in the 9th century and ruralized. It had some relics of the ancient importance as a central place (totally regained nowadays): a fortress, a market, although controlled by the new Capua, and a church used by the Aragonese dinasty for political ceremonies.34 On the plain around Naples, in the fluvial basins of the Garigliano, the Volturno and the Sarno, there were other districts, but they do not take in all the settlements. Some of the districts are small, they had very small towns as central place (Pozzuoli, Sorrento), others consist of constellations of villages, such as Carinola, Nocera (both bishoprics), San Germano (today Cassino, at the foot of the abbey of Montecassino), Somma Vesuviana, Marigliano and Torre di Francolise. Caserta, a bishopric, can be compared to Cava because of the structural similarity of the settlement, with its many villages, the ancient centre with its Bishop’s palace on the hill (today’s Casertavecchia), and its market on the plain (Torre, which is now at the centre of the town).35

30 Sources: De Santis, Guerra, Capua, Museo Provinciale Campano, Archivio Storico Comunale di Capua, 1141 (Catastum civitatis Capue, 1523). 31 Giorgio Chittolini, ‘“Quasi città”, Borghi e terre in area lombarda nel tardo Medioevo’ Società e storia, 47 (1990), pp. 3–26, now in Chittolini, Città, comunità e feudi nell’Italia centro-settentrionale (Milano: Unicopli, 1996), pp. 85–104. 32 Salvatore Marino, Ospedali e città nel regno di Napoli. Le Annunziate. Istituzioni, archivi e fonti (secc. XIV-XIX) (Firenze: Olschki, 2014), pp. 51–55. 33 Borgo de li Felice, Carczianum, Pagnano, parish of San Simeone, Capua, Museo Provinciale Campano, Archivio Storico Comunale di Capua, 1141, fols 276r–296r. 34 Senatore, Una città, I, pp. 30–31, 348–49. 35 Claudia Vultaggio, ‘Caserta nel Medioevo’, in Felicio Corvese, Giuseppe Tescione, and Claudia Vultaggio, Per una storia di Caserta dal Medioevo all’età contemporanea (Napoli: Athena, 1993), pp. 25–114.

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It is inappropriate to automatically apply the central-place theory and to think of Terra di Lavoro’s urban hierarchy as being undeveloped.36 It is certainly a very particular urbanization. The settlement is very scattered in character, and has lived on for a very long time, until now, as an enormous conurbation around Naples. 6. U  rbanization and economic competition in Naples’ hinterland (1447–1532) The town districts were functional juridical and fiscal places characterised by internal political and economic solidarity. They were useful in dialoguing with the king and with the feudal lord. They were the instrument for the defence of common prerogatives and for ambitious political projects such as that of Cava. Among the more important privileges were the right to be judged at first instance by the local judge, the faculty of dispensing citizenship without the king’s assent (Naples, Capua), fiscal exemptions and civilitas (the right to the status of citizen in all districts of the kingdom, together with the right not to pay local commercial taxes).37 Economic competition was not only between individuals but also between districts. Competition between the town districts of Terra di Lavoro is also evident from a comparison between the petitions of individual towns, a matter which historiography has usually dealt with by reference to each single centre. The petitions presented to the king by Aversa seem to be an appeal to the privileges obtained by neighbouring towns, especially Capua, with which town Aversa was in conflict both materially, in terms of its borders, and symbolically, in terms of these two towns contending for precedence in public ceremonies.38 It was in vain that Aversa claimed not to have to pay duties to Capua (1440) and to be exempt from direct taxation when other royal towns were exempt (1443), as was the case with Capua and Naples. Aversa managed not to pay the royal duty called flagellum as the citizens of Capua and Gaeta (1443), but unsuccessfully petitioned against the exemption from its own municipal taxation. Capuan merchants, since 1436, had been exempt from taxation in the whole kingdom, and also obtained the civilitas, which was conceded to Naples in 1476, with consequent useless protest from Capua.39 Here is a comparison of demographic data from 1447 to 1532 (see also Figure 4):

36 Sakellariou, Southern Italy, pp. 88–89. 37 Sakellariou, Southern Italy, Appendix C. For the citizenship in Naples and Capua see Senatore, Una città, I, pp. 32–39 and Piero Ventura, La capitale dei privilegi. Governo spagnolo, burocrazia e cittadinanza a Napoli nel Cinquecento (Naples: Federico II University Press, 2018). 38 Francesco Senatore, ‘Capys, Decio Magio e la nuova Capua nel Rinascimento’, Incidenza dell’Antico, 14 (2016/1), 126–48 (pp. 133–36). 39 Repertorio delle pergamene, pp. 47, 54, 55, Senatore, Una città, II, pp. 985–86.

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fr a n c esco sen ator e Table 6. Households in six town districts of Terra di Lavoro, 1447–153240

Year District

1447

1457

Capua Aversa Sessa Gaeta Nola Teano

2295 1626 1895/1956 1278 848 1129

2424 1939 2143 1186 1242

1470–73

1700 860

1490

1508

1532

3000 2000 1560 1188 1086 1050

3472 3164 1528 1248 1087 1079

4540 3644 1399 1448 1152 1195

Figure 4. Demographic trend in six town districts of Terra di Lavoro in 1447 (light) and 1532 (dark). © Claudio Vincenzo Lapiccirella.

The capital does not stifle all the nearby medium-sized towns, but there is no absence of changes. The population (or maybe the territory) of Sessa are much reduced. The inhabitants of the districts of Gaeta, Nola and Teano show little variation, a sign of a lack of attractiveness considering that this is a period of demographic growth. The inhabitants of Aversa and Capua double. Their growth and the stability of respective districts can definitely be related to the

40 For the sources see Table 4, and Naples, Archivio di Stato, Sommaria, Tesorieri e Percettori, Terra di Lavoro, 1; Fausto Cozzetto, Mezzogiorno e demografia nel XV secolo (Soveria Mannelli: Rubbettino, 1986); Giustiniani (in Sakellariou, Southern Italy, Table A–6); see also Luigi Cardi, ‘La popolazione dell’“università” di Gaeta (1443–1466)’, Formianum, 3 (1995), pp. 107–15.

ab out the ur b an iz ation in the king dom of na ples

political strength of the élites and fiscal advantages, which obviously is also true of Naples. At Capua the centre/periphery relationship changed: from 1490 to 1523 the population of Capua corpo grow from 25 to 33 per cent of the district.41 7. The town districts as economic players The kingdom of Naples was a political and economic space for a long time. Its borders did not change from the late thirteenth century, when the revolt of Sicily against the Angevin sovereign led to the birth of two kingdoms of that name (Sicily citra and ultra Farum) until 1861, when both kingdoms of Sicily merged into the kingdom of Italy. In spite of periods of weakness and transformations, for centuries the Neapolitan monarchy reigned over this territory and regulated the political and economic processes. The Crown was the most powerful manager of resources: it offered great opportunities for the personal and family success of the military, juridical and mercantile élites of the urban and rural centres. Apart from intervening personally in production and commerce, the king exercised influence over the economy and urbanization through the institution of fairs, the concession of commercial exemption and export licencing, the reduction of transaction costs (security on the roads, the abolition of illegal tolls etc.). In this overall process, among the king’s interlocutors were the districts represented by their élites. Thanks to its role as capital, Naples achieved a privileged political status and spread to enormous dimensions. The other towns of the kingdom, whether medium-sized or small, wielded important political and economical functions, especially locally. There was no lack of rural districts which managed to obtain from the sovereign fiscal and jurisdictional advantages. The southern Italian economic space was linked to international trade dominated by Florentine, Venetian and Catalan merchants. Historiography has long discussed the consequences of the penetration of foreign traders. In response to the commonplace about the economic sluggishness of southern Italy, often described as an area of colonial character, Sakellariou has shown that the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries were a period of growth of production, regional commerce and development of the urban system.42 The town districts, with their complex internal structure, are the protagonists of this process. Above the districts, and below the economic space of the kingdom, there were economic regions which did not coincide with the administrative provinces (substantially unchanged from the 13th to the 18th centuries), like the area around Naples. The political and economic strength of this region, dominated by the Naples-Capua-Aversa trio, can certainly be explained by the character of its urbanization and by that of relations between the capital and the principal town districts. 41 Senatore, Una città, I, p. 9. 42 Sakellariou, Southern Italy. For a general interpretation of the economical structures of the Kingdom see also Del Treppo, pp. 172–83.

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8. Conclusions This paper discussed the complexity and variety of the town districts in southern Italy, particularly in Campania. They were fiscal and administrative districts and were the output of the long interactions between the monarchy and the towns. They were also important political and economic players, which could influence the demographic trends thanks to the reductions of transactions costs granted by the royal privilegies. The majority of works on historical demography in southern Italy are based on fiscal sources which report the number of households in the entire district, i.e. the central place and its suburban district. In order to study urban hierarchies in this part of Italy it is essential to reconstruct the patters of settlements and the rates of urbanization inside each town district. This is what we attempted, relying on the few available sources, for some towns in Terra di Lavoro, not far from Naples. The urban hierarchy was here characterized by a capital city of very big dimensions, and by constellation of satellite cities of medium dimensions of c. 3–5000 inhabitants. Among these, Capua and Aversa grew in the period between 1447 and 1532 despite the vicinity to Naples, thanks to royal privileges. Within the town districts we can detect an urbanization in many ways similar, with a central place of bigger dimensions than the surrounding villages, with which it entertained a close political and economic relation. These are just temporary conclusion, which would need to be further verified through more detailed analysis in this and in other areas of southern Italy.

María Ánge les Martín Romera 

Urban Networks ‘in Defence of the Realm’ Castilian Cities in Valladolid’s Orbit of Influence (1504–1520)* 1. Introduction Urban hierarchies in the late Middle Ages have mostly been studied from an economic perspective, presented as heavily dependent on trade.1 This view is linked to a concept of cities that particularly emphasises their role as commercial centres, which comes to the fore in the most highly urbanized areas of late medieval Europe, such as Flanders and the centre and north of Italy.2 However, the organization of urban hierarchies arose from factors going beyond demographic and commercial confines to include social, political and cultural aspects. The combination of these factors and the complexity of the phenomenon of hierarchisation make it difficult to establish criteria for an urban ranking. This is especially the case considering that, on the one hand, such a hierarchisation would never be stable or permanent, but would be continually subjected to



* This research was supported by the project CIUCASDIN (HAR2017–82983–P), funded by the Spanish Ministerio de Ciencia, Innovación y Universidades, and hosted by the Universidad Complutense de Madrid. 1 Peter Stabel recognized it as such in Peter Stabel, ‘Town and Countryside in Medieval Europe: Beyond the Divide’, in Town and country in medieval north western Europe: dynamic interactions, ed. by Alexis Wilkin et al. (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015), pp. 313–23 (p. 314). This is true of most arguments surrounding the validity of the Christallerian model and the various alternatives proposed later, such as the urban networks approach: Walter Christaller, Central places in Southern Germany. (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1966) (First ed. 1933); Peter Borsay, ‘“Urban Network” as a Concept in English Urban History’, in Städtelandschaft: Städte im regionalen Kontext in Spätmittelalter und Früher Neuzeit, ed. by Holger Th. Gräf and Katrin Keller (Koln: Böhlau Verlag, 2004), pp. 1–15. For more on this discussion, see among others: Ulrich Müller, ‘Network of the Centres – Centres of the Networks? The Relations between “Hanseatic” Medieval Towns and their Surroundings/Hinterlands’, in Town and country in medieval north western Europe: dynamic interactions, ed. by Alexis Wilkin et al. (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015), pp. 145–87; Tom Scott, ‘Defining an Economic Region: The Southern Upper Rhine, 1450–1600’, in Regions and Landscapes. Reality and Imagination in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe, ed. by Peter Ainsworth and Tom Scott, (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2000), pp. 155–76. 2 It is not by chance that French historiography has placed more emphasis on political and administrative hierarchies: René Favier, ‘“Réseau urbain” comme un concept dans l’histoire urbaine en France’, in Städtelandschaft: Städte im regionalen Kontext in Spätmittelalter und Früher Neuzeit, ed. by Holger Th. Gräf and Katrin Keller (Koln: Böhlau Verlag, 2004), pp. 17–23.

María Ángeles Martín Romera • Universidad Complutense de Madrid, Spain Urban Hierarchy: The interaction between towns and cities in Europe in Late Medieval and Early Modern Times, ed. by María Asenjo-González, Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan & Andrea Zorzi, Studies in European Urban History (1100–1800) 53 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 127-143.

© FHG

DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.124666

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change and frequently contested due to the competition between the different urban centres. On the other hand, this hierarchisation could be understood not so much as an objective and measurable phenomenon, but the result of symbolic factors influenced by urban political propaganda and contemporaries’ perception of a specific hierarchical order among cities in the same area.3 Leaving aside the methodological argument on what might constitute the best approach to measuring or analysing this hierarchisation phenomenon, this article concentrates on its political and symbolic aspects. Specifically, the present analysis revolves around the role played by inter-urban alliances in the hierarchisation of the urban system in Castile during the transition from the Middle Ages to the Modern Age. In the context of establishing and negotiating coalitions among cities and towns, the positions of the various urban centres are brought into play, presented and consolidated within a hierarchy that alternates between the implicit and the explicit. If the leadership positions of the cities and towns in the region are highlighted and determined in each interaction they participate in, the coordination of alliances and joint actions is the crucial context for questioning or reaffirming the ranking of the urban centres. This perspective emphasises the solidarity and mutual recognition among cities in their negotiations, as opposed to concepts of hierarchy that derive from official royal policy. Directly related to cities’ leadership capacity were their prestige and symbolic capital. However, those concepts were made up of a large number of highly varied and difficult to measure factors, whose influence would change significantly over time. In the Kingdom of Castile, one of the greatest political honours was having a vote in the Cortes, which is, being one of the cities whose delegates were called by the king to the kingdom’s assembly. The number of cities had been fixed at 17 from the time of John II (1406–1454) and rose to 18 when Granada was incorporated in 1492.4 The parliament was a highly symbolic place of political representation where, despite the fact that all cities present had a right to vote, there was room for a hierarchy. The crown acknowledged Burgos as the leading city; however, this royal recognition, while conferring strong political and symbolic power, was the result of different dynamics than the ones that came into play in inter-city negotiations. One of the key issues forming the basis of this study is to question whether there is a correlation between this pre-eminence seen in parliament and endorsed in royal documentation, and a sort of leadership or effective ascendancy over the other cities in Castile from the end of the fifteenth century up until the Revolt of the Comuneros in 1520.





3 An example of the role of urban propaganda in the representation of centrality in Claire Billen, ‘La construction d’une centralité’, in The power of space in late medieval and early modern Europe: the cities of Italy, Northern France and the Low Countries, ed. by Marc Boone and Martha Howell (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013), pp. 183–96. 4 José Manuel Carretero Zamora, Cortes, monarquía, ciudades: las Cortes de Castilla a comienzos de la época moderna (1475–1515) (Madrid: Siglo XXI de España, 1988).

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The study of inter-urban relationships or urban diplomacy in Castile is hindered by the nature of the documentation in the late Middle Ages and the relative weakness of municipal archives in comparison with other, highly urbanized areas. The lack of serial municipal sources for most of the period is notable, as only Burgos, Murcia and Cuenca have council records prior to the second half of the fifteenth century. Most councils only kept these from the end of that century (Valladolid’s surviving records, for example, date from 1497 onwards). This means that, although we know that the cities sent envoys to negotiate with other urban centres,5 extensive documentation to reconstruct their meetings is not available. An additional problem is that, even when council records start to bear witness to the envoys, hardly any explanation of the negotiations is provided. This is partly due to the succinct nature of the entries and also because the negotiations took place through proxies who spoke on behalf of the city, instead of sending letters explaining the different stances or agreements reached. A reticence to recording negotiations in writing, plus the fact that few of these negotiations ended with a draft of the commitments or provisions, gives an idea of how little information is available on the contacts made. Although it is not the only reason, this lack of documentation has led historians to generally give precedence to relations between the Crown and cities, instead of inter-city contacts.6 This trend becomes more apparent in the last few decades, due to the predominance of the historiographical debate regarding the formation of the State and efforts by medievalists to date its beginning to the late Middle Ages.7 Although several authors, such as Charles Tilly, have insisted that urban networks were key elements in constructing modern states,8 attention on the formation of the state has mainly emphasised the Crown-cities perspective and, therefore, indirectly dwelt on an urban hierarchy based on political primacy reflected in the Cortes or in honours bestowed by kings. Although this has meant considerable 5 Óscar López, ‘Correos, mensajeros y estantes en la Castilla del siglo XV. Algunas consideraciones’, De Medio Aevo, 4–1 (2015), 1–26. 6 Miguel Ángel Ladero Quesada, ‘Corona y ciudades en la Castilla del siglo XV’, En la España Medieval, 5 (1986), 551–74. 7 Hilario Casado Alonso, ‘Las relaciones poder real-ciudades en Castilla en la primera mitad del siglo XIV’, in Génesis medieval del Estado Moderno: Castilla y Navarra (1250–1370). (Valladolid: Ámbito, 1987), pp. 193–215; Adeline Rucquoi, ‘Pouvoir royal et oligarchies urbaines d´Alfonso X a Fernando IV de Castille’, in Génesis medieval del Estado Moderno, pp. 173–92; María Asenjo González, ‘Ciudades y poder regio en la Castilla Trastámara (1400–1450)’, in Coups d´État à la fin du Moyen Âge?, ed. by François Foronda, Jean-Philip Genet and José Manuel Nieto Soria (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2005), pp. 365–401. A similar perspective in the international works: La ville, la bourgeoisie et la genèse de l´Ètat moderne (xiie-xviiie siècles). Actes du colloque de Bielefeld (29 novembre – 1er décembre 1985), ed. by Jean-Philippe Genet and Neithard Bulst (París: CNRS, 1988); Les Élites du pouvoir et la construction de l´État en Europe. Les origines de l´État moderne en Europe, ed. by Wolfgang Reinhard (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1996). 8 Cities and the rise of states in Europe, a.d. 1000 to 1800, ed. by Charles Tilly (Boulder: Westview Press, 1994), p. 6: ‘For Europe, it explores the possibility that the variable distribution of cities and systems of cities by region and era significantly and independently constrained the multiple paths of state transformation. It argues that states, as repositories of armed force, grow differently in different envionments and that the character of the urban networks within such environments systematically affects the path of state transformation’.

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progress in knowledge on the origins of the modern state and role of politics in the kingdom’s cities, it should be asked whether this primacy corresponds to the specific role of the cities within the urban fabric and its leading part in coordinating the other towns and cities. Political cooperation among Castilian cities in the late Middle Ages in scenarios a priori independent of kings was manifested mostly through two events that have deservedly received attention from historiography. First, the Hermandades, which reached their peak at the end of the thirteenth and beginning of the fourteenth centuries;9 and second, the Revolt of the Comuneros in 1519–20.10 Both events occurred in contexts influenced by a series of crises, weak kings and a power vacuum that helped the cities to become organized through political alliances that ensured their interests and mutual defence. This article focuses on a particular case, an attempt to coordinate the cities that appeared to be a mixture of the Hermandades model and the Revolt of the Comuneros. It relates the failed attempt by Valladolid in 1506 to create a Hermandad or alliance between cities, right at the peak of a dynastic crisis that had begun after the death of Isabella I (1474–1504) and which lasted until the defeat of the Comunidades in 1520. This example is fundamental to analysing, first, the symbolic capital that setting up these alliances brought into play, and how the ascendancy of some cities over others and their leadership were tested in these negotiations. Secondly, what the potential area of effective influence was for a city like Valladolid, and to what extent it would be able to coordinate the various towns in the region to form a real urban network, despite the reluctance to accept its leadership and the towns’ aspirations to be seen as equals within the alliance. Finally, this episode introduced a fundamental innovation, as the cities attempted to constitute themselves as a forum of urban representation that would act as an alternative to the Cortes, a situation that was repeated during the Comunidades. This analysis enables us to question the Crown’s view of hierarchisation – where Burgos and 9 Julio Puyol y Alonso, Las Hermandades de Castilla y León (Madrid: Imp. de la Suc. de M. Minuesa de los Ríos, 1913); José María Mínguez Fernández, ‘Las hermandades generales de los concejos en la Corona de Castilla: objetivos, estructura interna y contradicciones en sus manifestaciones iniciales’, in Concejos y ciudades en la Edad Media hispánica: II Congreso de Estudios Medievales (Ávila: Fundación Sánchez-Albornoz: 1990), pp. 537–68; María Asenjo González, ‘Ciudades y Hermandades en la Corona de Castilla: Aproximación sociopolítica’, Anuario de Estudios Medievales, 27–1 (1997) 103–46; Eduardo Fuentes Ganzo, ‘Pactismo, Cortes y hermandades en León y Castilla (siglos XIII-XV)’, in El contrato político en la Corona de Castilla: cultura y sociedad políticas entre los siglos X y XVI, ed. by François Foronda and Ana Isabel Carrasco Manchado (Madrid: Dykinson, 2008), pp. 415–52; María Ángeles Martín Romera, ‘Hermanas desiguales: las jerarquías urbanas a través de las Hermandades bajomedievales’, Anuario de Estudios Medievales, 48–1 (2018) 81–115. 10 Some of the main studies are José Antonio Maravall, Las comunidades de Castilla: una primera revolución moderna (Madrid: Alianza, 1979); Joseph Pérez, La revolución de las Comunidades de Castilla, (1520–1521) (Madrid, Siglo XXI, 1985); Stephen Haliczer, Los Comuneros de Castilla: la forja de una revolución (1475–1521) (Valladolid: Universidad de Valladolid, 1987); Pablo Sánchez León, Absolutismo y comunidad: los orígenes sociales de la guerra de los comuneros de Castilla (Madrid: Siglo XXI, 1998). See also the contributions to En torno a las Comunidades de Castilla: actas del Congreso Internacional ‘Poder, conflicto y revuelta en la España de Carlos I’, Toledo, 16 al 20 de octubre de 2000, coord. by Fernando Martínez Gil, (Cuenca: Ediciones Universidad Castilla-La Mancha, 2002).

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Toledo tended to gain an importance that did not manifest itself in attempts at urban coordination similar to the one carried out by Valladolid in 1506 – and to reassess the weight of the different causes attributed to the Comunidades. 2. T  he Castilian urban network: from the Hermandades to the Comunidades Urban studies have long debated the most appropriate criteria to decide when a settlement can be considered a town or even a city. Setting a precise number of inhabitants as the threshold for acquiring the status of a city has its advantages, since it is a precise criterion that can be measured and compared. However, this choice, together with the late participation of Spanish historiography internationally, partly hindered recognition of the importance of the Spanish urban network in European studies.11 Excepting Andalusia, the urban network in Spain in the late Middle Ages is characterized by a high rate of urbanization spread over many, mainly medium-sized and small towns.12 The importance of these places does not lie principally in their size, nor in their role in international trade networks – another criterion that has had a strong influence in urban studies – but in their high degree of political independence from the Crown, the institutions they were home to (bishoprics, universities, royal tribunals, and the itinerant court), the diversity of the population, which included nobles, knights, peasants, merchants and artisans, and the fact that they belonged to a polycentric network that coordinated several urban centres. As Alberto Marcos stated, confirmation about the urban nature of many of these centres came from travellers at the end of the Middle Ages and beginning of the Modern Age who recognized them as such in their writings.13 In the last few decades, interest has moved towards small towns, and the concept of cities as part of a wider urban fabric has gained importance.14 The

11 Jan de Vries considered 10.000 the minimum population that defined a city ( Jan de Vries, European Urbanization 1500–1800 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Pr., 1984)), while other authors have opted for the quantity of 5.000 (Paul Bairoch, La population des villes européenees: banque de données et analyse sommaire des résultats, 800–1850 (Genève: Droz, 1988)). This division exists as well among Spanish historians: José Ignacio Fortea Pérez, ‘Las ciudades de la Corona de Castilla en el Antiguo Régimen: una revisión historiográfica’, Revista de Demografía Histórica, 13–3 (1995), 19–60; Vicente Pérez Moreda and David-Sven Reher ‘La población urbana española entre los siglos XVI y XVIII. Una perspectiva demográfica’, in Imágenes de la diversidad. El mundo urbano en la Corona de Castilla (s. XVIXVIII), ed. by José Ignacio Fortea Pérez (Santander: Universidad de Cantabria, 1997), pp. 129–64. 12 Juan E. Gelabert ‘Cities, towns and small towns in Castile, 1500–1800’, in Small towns in early modern Europe, ed. by Peter Clark (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1995), pp. 271–94. 13 Alberto Marcos Martín, ‘El mundo urbano en Castilla antes y después de las comunidades’, in En torno a las comunidades de Castilla: actas del Congreso Internacional ‘Poder, Conflicto y Revuelta en la España de Carlos I’: (Toledo, 16 al 20 de octubre de 2000), coord. by Fernando Martínez Gil (Cuenca: Ediciones Universidad Castilla-La Mancha, 2002), pp. 45–92. 14 Small towns. Peter Clark characterizes small towns as ‘constant and quintessential feature of the European landscape’ during the Medieval and Early Modern Period (Peter Clark ‘Introduction’, in Small towns, pp. 1–21 (p. 1)). See also The making of urban Europe: 1000–1994, ed. by Paul M. Hohenberg and Lynn H. Lees (Cambridge: Mass., Harvard Univ. Press., 1995). Both works include a critique of De Vries for underestimating small towns.

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emphasis on urban networks has confirmed the importance of towns that were initially considered to be minor, and this evolution in the historiography has encouraged recognition of the Castilian urban network. Historians have identified three main urban networks in the Crown of Castile.15 One on the northern plateau, another in the area around Toledo between the central mountain range and the Guadalquivir valley, and the other in Andalusia. The urban network in the northern plateau consisted of several towns, chief among which were Burgos, Valladolid, Salamanca, Segovia, Medina del Campo and Ávila. However, many other smaller cities and towns could be included in the list. Soria, while strongly agricultural, was one of the 17 cities with representation at the Cortes (‘parliament’) during the Middle Ages. Although studies that look at quantitative aspects and the size of cities focus mainly on the urban network in Andalusia, in fact, from a political point of view, the most important system at the end of the Middle Ages was that of the northern plateau. This prominent political character in the kingdom manifested itself in two ways. First, because most of the cities present at the Cortes belonged to this system, and second, because they showed a greater ability to provide mutual coordination and assistance at critical times in which cities allied with one another in the absence of a strong regal power. Between 1282 and 1317, the insurrection of who would later become Sancho IV (1284–1295) against his father, Alfonso X (1252–1284), and the subsequent minorities of Fernando IV (1295–1312) and Alfonso XI (1312–1350) brought about times of great unrest. The threatening presence of the nobility and the outbreak of armed conflicts, or at least the threat of war, provided a breeding ground that led cities to form coalitions – called Hermandades – that would provide them with some security by ensuring mutual help and defence from any aggressors. The weakness of the king was yet another justification for these temporary alliances that invariably claimed to defend regal interests. Besides mutual help, they agreed on joint action backed by the urban military and led by a body known as the Junta. This decision-making council had representatives from each of the cities.16 The time of the Hermandades coincided with a stage in urban development in Castile during which the Crown recognized the advantages that support from the cities would bring in terms of legitimacy and resources. While the cities promised service to the Crown, the kings guaranteed a set of privileges aimed at specific urban groups such as the elites, leading to what has been considered to be a period of oligarchization of cities, similar to that which had occurred in the late Middle Ages in other parts of Europe. Despite the subsequent prohibition of the Hermandades, the memory of these associations remained alive in the cities as part of their tradition of serving the Crown and, hence, their legitimacy as important defenders of the kingdom’s interests.

15 For more on the urban systems in the Crown of Castile, see Marcos Martín, ‘El mundo urbano’. 16 See note 9.

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In the fifteenth century, during the controversial reign of Henry IV (1454–1474), there was a resurgence of these leagues.17 The Catholic Monarchs, Isabella (1474–1504) and her consort king Ferdinand, tried to redirect this new effort to form urban alliances by creating the Santa Hermandad in 1476, in an attempt to unify them as an urban militia subject to royal authority.18 Some cities, especially Burgos, resisted giving up their own Hermandades in favour of the Santa Hermandad, thus demonstrating that this was an assault on the sense of autonomy and the opportunity for coordination and prestige that the Hermandades had provided until then. In 1476, Burgos tried unsuccessfully to create its own Hermandad. However, the scope of this Hermandad was remarkably restricted, since it included only Burgos and its hinterland: ‘para que la dicha çibdad e sus comarcas sean defendidas’.19 As for the Comunidades, this revolt of the cities against Charles I (1516–1556), grandson of Emperor Maximilian I (1508–1519), at the beginning of his reign needs no introduction, as it is one of the main subjects in the historiography of Spain and in studies on conflicts and rebellions.20 The cities’ opposition to royal policy and the subsidies to fund the King’s European interests gave rise to a confederation whose political aim was to force the King into a series of commitments. While the Hermandades were legal (for most of the time and until the Santa Hermandad was founded) and it was accepted that they took place outside royal leadership, this was not the case with the Junta Comunera (the body representing the cities and making decisions during the revolt). Not only was the Junta constituted without royal approval, at a time when the Hermandades were no longer legal, but it aimed to be an obvious alternative to the Cortes. City representatives were summoned by the king to gather at the Cortes of Santiago-La Coruña in 1519. The king demanded that the urban deputies attending the Cortes were granted special powers from their cities that will enable them to accept an extraordinary taxation. The Junta’s programme was opposed to that of the Cortes of Santiago-La Coruña. It considered that the new taxation was not in the interest of Castile, wanted to address the demands that the king wished to ignore, and presented itself as a legitimate alternative to the Cortes.While the opposition of the Junta to the Cortes clearly differentiates it from the Hermandad juntas of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, there is, however, a precedent: an initiative launched by Valladolid – the failed Hermandad of 1506.

17 Antonio Suárez Varela, ‘La conjuración comunera: de la antigua germanitas a la confederación de Tordesillas’, Historia, Instituciones, Documentos, 34 (2007), 247–77. 18 Marvin Lunenfeld, The Council of the Santa Hermandad. A study of the pacification forces of Ferdinand and Isabella (Coral Gables, Fla.: University of Miami Press, 1970). 19 Yolanda Guerrero Navarrete, ‘La Hermandad de 1476 y Burgos: Un factor decisivo en la transformación del poder municipal a fines de la Edad Media’, Anuario de estudios medievales, 16 (1986), 533–56 (p. 536–37): ‘in order to defend the city and its hinterland’. 20 See note 10.

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3. The Hermandad of 1506 Considering the Hermandades to be an obvious predecessor of the collective action taken by the cities during the Revolt of the Comuneros is nothing new.21 In fact, authors like María Asenjo and Máximo Diago have pointed out the various attempts among cities to form new alliances similar to the Hermandades that took place following the death of Ferdinand of Aragon in 1516.22 However, most of the historiography omits the fact that Valladolid had already started this trend in 1506 after the death of Philip I (called Philip the Fair), between the end of 1506 and the early months of 1507.23 The dynastic crisis in Castile began with the death of the heir, Prince John, in 1497 and gradually worsened when Prince Michael, grandson of the Catholic Monarchs, died in 1500 leaving Princess Joanna to succeed. Joanna’s unstable temperament and her marriage to Philip, son of Maximilian I, meant that she was a poor heir, not suited to governing the kingdom and married to a foreigner. The death of Isabella I in 1504 ignited a period of open conflict between the hitherto King consort, Ferdinand of Aragon, and Joanna’s husband, Philip, to become the effective ruler of Castile. The Villafáfila agreement of 27 June 1506 granted de facto government to Philip, while Ferdinand renounced his rights over Castile in exchange for certain compensation and retired to his Italian lands. Philip’s reign was extremely short, however, as he succumbed to pneumonia or the plague and died on 25 September.24 Philip’s death at a time when Ferdinand was away in Naples, plus the fact that Joanna refused to act as ruler and the eldest son and heir was in Flanders, gave rise to more dangerous times. In addition, 1506 was a year of poor harvests, scarcity and famine. The Royal Council, led by the Archbishop of Toledo, Jiménez de Cisneros, decided to convene the Cortes, but faced several setbacks. On the one hand, the Queen refused to sign the letters required by law to summon the cities and, on the other, the nobles soon took up arms and readied themselves to

21 José Luis Bermejo Cabrero, ‘Hermandades y Comunidades de Castilla’, Anuario de historia del derecho español, 58 (1988), 277–412; Suárez Varela, ‘La conjuración comunera’. 22 Máximo Diago Hernando, ‘La cultura contractual en los medios urbanos castellanos a fines de la Edad Media: el resurgimiento de la Cortes durante el período pre-comunero’ in El contrato político en la Corona de Castilla: cultura y sociedad políticas entre los siglos X y XVI, ed. by François Foronda and Ana Isabel Carrasco Manchado (Madrid: Dykinson, 2008), pp. 453–90; María Asenjo González ‘Las ciudades castellanas al inicio del reinado de Carlos V’, Studia historica. Historia moderna, 21 (1999), 49–115. 23 Regarding Valladolid in the fifteenth and sixteenth century see: Adeline Rucquoi, Valladolid en la Edad Media. (Valladolid: Junta de Castilla y León, 1997); Bartolomé Bennassar, Valladolid en el Siglo de Oro. Una ciudad de Castilla y su entorno agrario en el siglo XVI (Valladolid: Ámbito, 1989); María Ángeles Martín Romera, Redes de poder. Las relaciones sociales de la oligarquía de Valladolid a finales de la Edad Media (1450–1520) (Madrid: CSIC, 2019). 24 These events have been explained on several occasions, among others see José Manuel Calderón Ortega ‘Felipe el Hermoso, Fernando el Católico y la instauración de la Casa de Austria en Castilla’, in Fernando I, 1503–1564: socialización, vida privada y actividad pública de un Emperador del Renacimiento, coord. by Alfredo Alvar y Friedrich Edelmayer (Madrid: Sociedad Estatal de Conmemoraciones Culturales, 2004), pp. 133–66.

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put pressure on the cities and threaten the independence of the representatives who had to be present at the Cortes held in Burgos in December 1506. Only a few cities sent their representatives, forcing the Cortes to be postponed and eventually cancelled.25 The failure of these Cortes can be better understood considering Valladolid’s invitation in November 1506 (immediately after the Cortes had been summoned) to several cities to attend an alternative forum in Medina del Campo. There are many features and aspects that point to Valladolid’s central position among the kingdom’s cities, despite the fact that it would not be officially addressed as ciudad (city) until a bishopric was established in 1595.26 In addition to the size of the population, other notable aspects included the habitual presence of the itinerant court (to the point that some historians considered it to be an unofficial seat of the court, or the de facto capital of the kingdom),27 the fact that it housed the only Chancellery in the kingdom until 1494, when a second was created in Ciudad Real (moved to Granada in 1505), the privilege to hold fairs, the university, as well as the presence of many nobles and a flourishing merchant class. However, primacy among cities in Castile has mainly been seen as a struggle between Burgos and Toledo. The dominance of Burgos was recognized in the Cortes, where it always took precedence over the other cities,28 and its rivalry with Toledo broke out on several occasions, with one of the most significant conflicts being the Revolt of the Comuneros. After the conquest of Granada in 1492, tensions also arose between this city and Toledo due to the numerous benefits granted by the Catholic Monarchs, who were keen to make Granada their banner, and to Christianize and honour it.29 The initiative shown by the Valladolid council in 1506 proves that the town also challenged the primacy of Burgos and, especially, that it had sufficient initiative and leadership to unite and coordinate the main cities of the northern plateau and act as leader of the Castilian urban network. Apart from the reasons listed which made Valladolid one of the Crown’s major urban centres, a key event catapulted the town into rapid action at the time to take on the role of leader. Prince Ferdinand, second son of Philip and Joanna and the future Emperor Ferdinand I (1558–1564), was staying at Simancas, a strategically important town twelve kilometres from Valladolid. Faced with the imminent danger that some of the nobles would try to seize the child to

25 Carretero Zamora, Cortes, monarquía, ciudades, pp. 212–14. 26 Until then it was named “villa” a concept closer to “town”. There was a previous attempt to establish a bishopric in 1503, but it did not succeed: Marcos Martín, ‘El mundo urbano’, p. 51. 27 Gelabert, ‘Cities, towns and small towns in Castile’, p. 286 28 Juan Antonio Bonachía Hernando, ‘“Más honrada que ciudad de mis reinos…”: la nobleza y el honor en el imaginario urbano (Burgos en la Baja Edad Media)’, in La ciudad medieval. Aspectos de la vida urbana en la Castilla Bajomedieval, ed. by Juan Antonio Bonachía Hernando (Valladolid: Universidad de Valladolid, 1996), pp. 169–212. 29 María Asenjo González, ‘Arguments politiques et culture urbaine. Dans la controverse entre Tolède et Grenade après 1492’, Histoire urbaine, 35 (2012), 107–30.

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Map 1. Cities and towns in the 1506 negotiations for creating an Hermandad

•

Cities and towns with representation in Cortes • Towns without representation in Cortes

serve their own interests,30 his tutor, Pedro Núñez de Guzmán, who was well aware of the importance of keeping the prince under his guardianship, turned to the Valladolid city council for help.31 This role of defending Ferdinand and, therefore, royal legitimacy, gave the city both the chance to stand out as the protector of royal interests and a clear advantage in any future negotiations.32 The town decided to send emissaries to various other towns and cities to build an alliance against any rebellion that might endanger the rights of Queen Joanna to the crown. On 30 October 1506, the council records mention the reticence of councillors to grant powers to the representatives who had to attend the Cortes 30 Indeed, there was an attempt to take the child by members of a party supporting the Hapsburgs, which caused the prince to be removed from Simancas to Valladolid, escorted by the people of Simancas. 31 These events are narrated in Calderón Ortega, ‘Felipe el Hermoso’, pp. 164–65. 32 It seems more than reasonable to suppose that this position and tactical advantage would have encouraged the Valladolid council to convene the cities to a Junta. In fact, immediately following the Royal Council’s first rejection of the idea, an envoy from Pedro Núñez de Guzmán, Ferdinand’s personal tutor, attended a meeting of the council to encourage its members to persist with the initiative. He assured them that Núñez de Guzmán would offer his life and properties for the cause, clearly assuming that to continue with the Junta would endanger the councillors’ possessions, status and even physical well-being.

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in Burgos. For the first time, the representatives were asked to provide universal powers, meaning they were allowed to approve any petition from the Crown without seeking prior permission from the city. There was resistance, similar to what would happen in the Santiago Cortes in 1520. Next, it was proposed to send letters to several cities ‘in the service’ of Queen Joanna, to prepare themselves should anything occur to upset the peace of the kingdom.33 As for the recipients of the letters, the text states that they only concerned the cities of the northern plateau ‘from here to the [northern mountain] passes’. More specifically, they wrote to the towns and cities of Medina del Campo, Tordesillas, Olmedo, Arévalo, Segovia, Ávila, Salamanca, Toro and Zamora. These places were in Valladolid’s area of influence, including the largest cities on the plateau, but excluding the other two cities comparable with Valladolid: Burgos and Toledo, with the latter not belonging to the same urban network but heading one of its own. The list included all the cities on the northern plateau that were represented at the Cortes, except Burgos and Soria (those with representatives were Valladolid, Segovia, Ávila, Salamanca, Toro and Zamora). On 13 November, they decided to extend the invitation to Aranda and Sepúlveda. It is difficult to determine the reasons for excluding Soria. Considering its distance from Valladolid, it may have been considered to be outside the city’s principal area of influence. As for Burgos, the reasonable choice was not to include it. On the one hand, it was highly doubtful that Burgos would be willing to join an alliance led by Valladolid, which had clearly established itself as the leader. On the other, Queen Joanna and the Royal Council were in Burgos and it was also the city where the Cortes were to be held one month later, so it was easy to suppose it would be opposed to the Junta. To a large extent, the choice of these towns and cities coincides with the region of the northern plateau, identified in the historiography as one of the three main urban networks of the Crown of Castile. The common tendency to implicitly identify a region with an urban network has not always met with arguments providing reliable evidence that contacts were actually taking place within the network, or that it really coincided with the region’s borders. In this case, at least from the perspective of political relationships and alliances, the map drawn by the Valladolid council broadly confirms the existence of an urban network that could be identified with the northern plateau, with two

33 Archivo Municipal de Valladolid, Actas Concejiles (from now on AMV, Actas), l. II, fol. 263: Sería bueno para el servicio de la reina y para la paz y sosiego de los reinos que la villa escribiese a Toro, Zamora, Salamanca, Medina del Campo y Tordesillas, para que si algo ocurriera en estos reinos en deservicio de la reina o contra la paz del reino, estuviesen todos unánimes y prestos para su servicio y no consintiesen que ninguna persona fuera en deservicio de la reina. (It would be good for serving the Queen and for the peace and quiet of the kingdoms that the town write to Toro, Zamora, Salamanca, Medina del Campo and Tordesillas so that should anything occur in these kingdoms in detriment to the Queen or against the peace of the kingdom they would all be united and prepared to serve her and not consent to any person doing disservice to the Queen). This record is transcribed in María Antonia Varona García, Los procuradores de Valladolid en las Cortes del siglo XVI (Valladolid: Universidad de Valladolid, 1990), pp. 102–3.

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caveats – the previously mentioned exclusion of Burgos and Soria, and the fact that inclusion in the list is attributable to a combination of political relevance and distance. Thus, all the most important towns are included, but of the smaller ones with no representation in the Cortes, only those closest to Valladolid are invited: Olmedo, Tordesillas, Arévalo, Aranda and Sepúlveda. The letters were written on the second of November and made reference to the usual questions such as service to the Crown, loyalty of subjects and, obviously, the common good of the kingdom.34 Likewise, they alluded to the idea of hermandad (a medieval remnant mentioned above) and that of the junta, which would be the same name given to the decision-making body of the Comuneros during the Revolt of 1520. The principal message was the proposal to create a union among the cities convened, who would act jointly should they have to serve the Queen in bringing peace and defending her realms.35 As usual, the details of the alliance were not put in writing. Instead, they would be discussed in person by the councillors of the recipient cities and the messenger who delivered the letters. This strategy appropriately maintained the most sensitive and difficult details of the negotiation and the conspiracy in secret and out of official documents that could be used against the council of Valladolid – especially when they dealt with matters that not only could be considered illegal, but might even be seen as an act of treason.36

34 Élodie Lecuppre-Desjardin and Anne Laure Van Bruaene, eds. De Bono Communi. The Discourse and Practice of the Common Good in the European City (13th–16th c.). (Turnhout: Brepols, 2010); José Antonio Jara Fuente, ‘Commo cunple a seruiçio de su rey e sennor natural e al procomún de la su tierra e de los vesinos e moradores de ella. La noción de “servicio público” como seña de identidad política comunitaria en la Castilla urbana del siglo XV’, e-Spania, 4 (2007); Antonio Suárez Varela, ‘Celotismo comunal: la máxima política del procomún en la revuelta comunera’, Tiempos modernos: Revista Electrónica de Historia Moderna, 15 (2007/1), 1–34. 35 AMV, Actas, l. II, fol. 264r: Por ende, sy vuestras merçedes mandaren e touieren por bien, esta villa e su tierra quiere ser en vna vnión e conformidad con esa çibdad e con las otras çibdades e villas que esto touieren por bien, para que abiendo neçezidad en qualquier cosa que sea seruiçio de Su Alteza e para la pazificaçión, guarda e amparo, defendimiento de estos sus rreinos contra qualesquier persona que lo quieran estoruar e ynpedir, faremos juntamente con esa çibdad e con todas las otras que tenemos dicho, pleito omenaje de ser agora e en todo tiempo en qualquier neçesidad que se ofreçiere en cada vna de las çibdades e villas e sus tierras que esta coformidad quisieren conseguir e de lo tener e guardar e mantener agora e en todo tiempo. (Hence if your worships order and hold good, this town and its lands wishes to become a union and in compliance with your city and the other cities and towns that it holds to be good, so that should a need arise that serves Her Highness, and for pacification, security and protection, in defence of these realms against any person who wishes to disturb and obstruct, we will together with the city and all the others as said before, swear to be present now and for all time for any need that arises in any of the cities and towns and their lands that this union wishes to attain and to hold, safeguard and maintain now and for all time). 36 Secrecy and its role in premodern politics has been the subject of recent studies: Michael Jucker, ‘Urban Literacy and Urban Secrecy? Some New Approaches to an Old Problem’, in Medieval urban literacy: Writing and the administration of medieval towns, ed. by Marco Mostert and Anna Adamska (Turnhout, Brepols, 2014), pp. 231–41; La necessità del segreto: Indagini sullo spazio politico nell’italia medievale ed oltre, ed. by Jacques Chiffoleau, Etienne Hubert and Roberta Mucciarelli (Roma: Viella, 2018).

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The replies from some of the cities and the subsequent letters from the Royal Council provide us with part of the envoys’ message. They would have asked each city to send two representatives to a Junta to be held in Medina del Campo on the last day of November. The only reply that was not openly positive came from the city of Toro, which only said it would send one messenger for the discussion. This implied that the request was not rejected, but simply underlines the preference for oral negotiation which, as occurs on so many other occasions, deprives us of information regarding the city’s position.37 The letters from Aranda, Sepúlveda and Tordesillas are not mentioned; however, due to their closeness, it is highly likely that they also chose to send emissaries. In fact, the cities that sent letters often mentioned that the details would be discussed with the messenger and not in writing. The other six letters transcribed in the city council documents bear witness to the political skill shown by the councillors of Valladolid and the prestige guaranteed by leading such a project. Zamora, Arévalo, Segovia and Ávila sent missives full of enthusiastic statements. The Zamora council wrote: Nobles e muy virtuosos señores la muy noble e leal çibdad de Çamora, justiçia e regidores della, reçibimos vuestra carta e oymos lo que por vertud della nos dixo Juan de Santistevan e, como a el deximos, çiertamente tenemos ynbidia de dar comienço esta villa a tan buena obra porque quisieramos començarlo nosotros.38 Ávila stated: Es mucha razón que todos nos esforçemos a buscar el remedio, e como a primeros ynventores del os demos las graçias e quedemos en obligaçión para fazer la que señores mandardes como personas que con tan buen propósito se mueven a lo que tanto cumple al serviçio de dios e de la reyna nuestra señora e a la paçificaçión guarda e proteçión destos sus reynos e por ser la cavsa tan neçesaria e tan justa.39

37 A reflection on the relationship between oral discussions and the council records, in the context of Marseilles in the fourteenth century, in François Otchakovsky-Laurens, ‘Les assemblées municipales marseillaises au xive siècle et l’enregistrement de la parole publique’, in L’Enquête en questions. De la réalité à la ‘verité’ dans les modes de gouvernement (Moyen Âge – Temps modernes), ed. by Anne Mailloux and Laure Verdon (Paris: CNRS Éditions, 2014), pp. 85–101. 38 AMV, Actas, l. 2, fol. 267r: Noble and very virtuous sirs, the noble and loyal city, justice and councillors of Zamora have received your letter and listened to what Juan de Santistevan had to tell us, and as we told him, this town is certainly envious of Valladolid having initiated such a good work, since we wish we had launched it ourselves. 39 AMV, Actas), l. 2, fol. 267v: It is with good reason that we all make an effort to seek the remedy and as its originators, we thank you and are in obligation to do what you request as the people who lead such a fine proposal to fulfil so much in the service of God and our lady the Queen, and to pacify, save and protect her realms and for being such a just cause.

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Segovia insisted that the undertaking would bring honour to Valladolid, as it was the noble city who had instigated it, and only in second place to the other cities taking part: Cosa muy bien acordada e movida nos ha paresçido y pues que es tan neçesaria devese procurar que aya buen efeto, el qual creemos pues vuestras merçedes an tomado el prinçipio que será tal qual convenga al serviçio de su alteza e paz e sosiego destos sus reynos e onrra desa noble villa e desta çibdad e de las otras çibdades e villas que en esta congregaçion e acuerdo se quieran allegar.40 The letter from Arévalo combined admiration and praise for Valladolid as the originator of the idea with an open declaration of submission to the orders Valladolid may give. The letter’s words, like those of Zamora, went as far as to confess a certain envy for not having come up with the idea themselves, although it also acknowledged that a city of Valladolid’s stature was needed to undertake such a noble initiative.41 Olmedo’s missive contained the same ideas but in less colourful language. The tone was significantly different in the letters from Salamanca and Medina del Campo, as they were in a stronger political position within the urban network, together with Valladolid. Both were more restrained in their replies, doubtless uncomfortable with the position of inferiority foisted on them by Valladolid’s initiative. They accepted the proposal and acknowledged that it was appropriate and fair, as well as its good intention and purpose. However, no flattery for the Valladolid council was included, and more importantly, at no time did they openly state that being responsible for taking the initiative would guarantee any precedence or leadership rights for Valladolid. Specifically, it must be pointed out that, from the fifteenth century, Valladolid and Medina del Campo had been at odds over the competition between their fairs, with the conflict becoming more belligerent towards the end of the century.42 40 AMV, Actas, l. 2, fol. 267v: It seems to us a very well thought and organized thing and as it is much needed, we must strive for it to have good effect, which we believe will thus be so because you have chosen as your guiding principle that you will do whatever necessary in the interest of serving her highness and the peace and quiet of her realms and honour of your noble town and of this city [of Segovia] and of the other cities and towns who wish to ally in this union and agreement. 41 AMV, Actas, l. 2, fol. 268r: Quisieremos aver començado cosa de tanta virtud e nobleza e lealtad como aveys puesto en obra, pero ello se començó por quien devía e hera razón; e con ayuda de dios e de los pueblos que en ello fueren será para mucha paz e sosiego destos reynos e gloria de los que dieron el prinçipio e de los que lo mantovieren e cunplieren. (We wish we had initiated such a virtuous, noble and loyal thing as the one you have launched, but it was initiated by who was meant to and according to reason; and with God’s assistance and the assistance of the towns that will be involved, it will bring much peace and calm to these kingdoms and glory to those who initiated it and those who might support it and accomplish it). 42 Alfonso Carlos Merchán Fernández, ‘El hecho económico y la estructura jurídica de las ferias de Medina del Campo (1421–1602)’, in Historia de Medina del Campo y su tierra. Nacimiento y expansión, coord. by Eufemio Lorenzo Sanz (Medina del Campo: Ayuntamiento de Medina del Campo, 1986), II, pp. 301–40; Rucquoi, Valladolid en la Edad Media, II, pp. 363–68.

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From the end of the fifteenth century until the Revolt of the Comuneros, the issue of the fairs was of constant concern, and Valladolid was continually sending envoys to both Medina and the court to negotiate with the various monarchs and governors. Despite the lukewarm letters from Salamanca and Medina, the replies overall show the huge propaganda boost that the initiative would mean for Valladolid. This was being used by the town to force the others to recognize its predominance within the urban network of the northern plateau – implicitly in the case of Medina del Campo and Salamanca and openly from the other towns – and it established itself as the first city to come to the aid of the Queen and kingdom. Unfortunately, the reply from the Royal Council was immediate and emphatic. Its letters prohibited the Junta from taking place and threatened the councillors with the loss of their properties, posts and honours. The first reaction was a slight split in the council, with those designated as representatives to the Cortes lining up against those appointed to the Junta in Medina. In any case, most councillors insisted on holding the Junta and this decision held for a short while. However, the arrival of a letter from Medina del Campo on 28 November, two days before the Junta should have taken place, changed the situation. Having received an order from the Queen and Royal Council to cancel the meeting, the Medina councillors had decided to obey and asked those in Valladolid not to send their representatives. Faced with Medina del Campo’s refusal, Valladolid had no choice but to desist in its endeavour. The discussions in the council before deciding to give up show that the councillors were aware of the dishonour that failure of the Junta could entail for Valladolid’s prestige in the face of the other cities convened. Councillor Pedro de Tovar, among others, declared that while they tried to persuade the Queen, they had to send letters to Medina in the interim to hold discussions with the other representatives ‘because this town should not offend the other cities and towns’. Similarly, the corregidor, the officer representing the Crown in the town, made common cause with the council and supported its stance of sending representatives to Medina (called messengers here as a euphemism): ‘porque a esta villa le paresçeria no honroso no tener en la dicha villa de Medina personas que reçiban los mensajeros de las otras çibdades e villas que allí enbian e para les dar el descuento de la razón’.43 With this episode, Valladolid had pitched a mixed Hermandad – Junta model against the royal Cortes held in Burgos, which put the legitimacy of the realm in the hands of an alliance of cities led by Valladolid.44 The Junta’s prevention 43 ‘because it does not seem honourable to this town not to have in Medina people who can receive the messengers sent by the other cities and towns and to explain their reasoning’. 44 There is an existing debate on whether the Cortes not only did not represent the cities, but had opposing interests, as Irving Thompson maintains, or whether, contrary to this, there is a correlation between the strengthening of the Cortes and the rebellion of the cities in 1520, as Carretero Zamora upholds. Irving Thompson, ‘Cortes y diudades: tipología de los Procuradores (extracción social, representatividad)’, in Las Cortes de Castilla y León en la Edad Moderna. Actas de la Segunda Etapa del Congreso Científico sobre la Historia de las Cortes de Castilla y León, Salamanca del 7 al

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should not obscure the fact that the Cortes convened for December 1506 also had to be postponed and eventually cancelled because representatives from the towns and cities decided not to attend.45 In 1516–1517, at a time when the pre-Comunero atmosphere was strong, new attempts of establishing Hermandades took place. Valladolid played again a leading role in convening a meeting of a new Junta, this time in Palencia and with a broader geographical scope.46 4. Conclusions This episode represents the first one of a series of attempts to set up an alternative forum for the representation of the cities, where they could discuss their needs and aims, as well as coordinate their actions and the defence of their interests. As said previously, although the Hermandades were always a relatively independent forum, they had not represented an alternative to the Cortes, as occurred with the Comunero Junta and with this Hermandad of 1506 initiated by Valladolid. Looking back at the events of the Comunero Revolt, it seems easy to provide a teleological explanation and conclude that this 1506 Hermandad was a timid rehearsal for what was to come in 1519. However, this episode does provides a new interpretation that can be added to the ongoing debate over whether the revolt was a modern phenomenon47 or had predominantly medieval roots.48 The first historiographic trend states that a fundamental aspect of the Comunero movement was the population of Castile’s refusal to bear the costs of Charles V’s aspirations to the empire, in short, financing his undertakings in Europe at the expense of the interests of Castile.49 The interpretation of this as the main cause pushes into the background or subordinates to this discontent other issues, such as the cities’ capacity to mobilize and their claims for a relationship between the kingdom and king based on a contractualist model (pactismo).50 The proposal for a Junta as an alternative to the Cortes in 1506, before Charles V’s reign

10 de Abril de 1987 (Valladolid: Cortes de Castilla y León, 1989), pp. 191–248; Carretero Zamora, Cortes, monarquía, ciudades, p. 214. In relation to this debate, both the Hermandad of 1506 and the subsequent urban alliances tilts the balance towards the cities and Cortes being opposed to each other. 45 Carretero gives an account of these Cortes, although he makes no mention of the Hermandad of Valladolid and attributes the failure of the Cortes to Ferdinand’s attitude, the nobility and Joanna’s apathy, hence removing the spotlight from the cities: Carretero Zamora, Cortes, monarquía, ciudades, pp. 212–14. 46 Although the information is limited and incomplete, we know that León was one of the cities invited on this occasion. Asenjo González ‘Las ciudades castellanas’. 47 Maravall, Las comunidades de Castilla; Joseph Pérez, La revolución de las Comunidades de Castilla; Stephen Haliczer, Los Comuneros de Castilla. 48 Sánchez León, Absolutismo y comunidad; Suárez Varela, ‘La conjuración comunera’. 49 Joseph Pérez, ‘Las Comunidades de Castilla. Nuevas Perspectivas’, in En torno a las comunidades de Castilla, pp. 133–46. 50 El contrato político en la Corona de Castilla: cultura y sociedad políticas entre los siglos X y XVI, ed. by François Foronda and Ana Isabel Carrasco Manchado (Madrid: Dykinson, 2008).

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(1516–1556), undermines this interpretation, while at the same time, forcing the cities’ political aspirations and capacity for collective action to be reconsidered. Furthermore, although the alliances among cities responded to concerns that existed throughout the kingdom, these acted as a space within which the hierarchical order of the urban network itself could be played out and re-ordered. This episode enables urban hierarchies to be reappraised in view of their capacity to lead and mobilize the urban network, instead of basing it on attributes or honorary recognitions that mainly came from royal institutions. In this respect, it is essential to consider the role played by Burgos in urban mobilization in the transition to modernity. Studies on the Comunidades have shown that the commercial interests of Burgos aligned it with the European and Burgundian interests of the Hapsburgs (first with Philip and then with Charles I). This distanced it from the interests of most of the cities in the Castilian urban network, to which it showed little support, and left an opening for other cities, mainly Toledo and Valladolid, to rise up as leaders in the demands of the cities. In fact, this relative alienation from the other cities may have deeper roots. Before the dynastic crisis, the Hermandad of Burgos in 1476 proposed a much smaller area of influence than the one attempted by Valladolid in 1506. This was certainly due to the objectives and context of both Hermandades being radically different. However, it indicates that Burgos was somewhat isolated, engrossed in its own matters in a smaller area, and was part of international commercial networks that prevented greater integration into the urban network of the northern plateau. Burgos’ predominance, although sanctioned by royal power, can be seen as partly artificial and partly external to the urban network, since it is based on international economic networks and a role assigned by the king. The initiative from the Valladolid council in 1506 shows, on the one hand, that an effective urban network existed on a political level, generally based in the northern plateau region. On the other hand, despite its secondary economic role in the region,51 the city had sufficient initiative and leadership to unite and coordinate the principal cities in the northern plateau, thus acting as the leader of the urban network in Castile. Although the hierarchical structure of this urban network would be subject to constant changes and rearrangements, Valladolid’s leadership in the inter-urban network is irrefutable, and another factor to consider in the city’s splendour during the sixteenth century, a period during which Alberto Marcos Martín deemed it to be the undoubted political centre of this system.52

51 For Valladolid’s economic area of influence see David Igual Luis, ‘Valladolid y sus círculos económicos de relación (1475–1520)’, Edad Media: revista de historia, 15 (2014), 97–114. 52 From 1540–59, it was the seat of the court, and in 1530 it had about 35,000 inhabitants, with only Seville and Granada being larger (Marcos Martín, ‘El mundo urbano’ pp. 50 and 53).

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Jan Vojtíšek 

The Town of Kolín and its Communication Horizons in the Late Middle Ages 1. Introduction A study of urban communication requires at first the assessment of the political and geographical positions as well as the importance of the studied town.1 Kolín is one of the towns founded during the big boom of the urban foundation under King Ottokar II of Bohemia.2 It was founded before 1261, as evidenced by the first written records about the town.3 Shortly after, no later than 1278, Kolín was surrounded by stone ramparts.4 Its early development was related to its position on vital routes (trade routes and routes controlling the country) going from Prague to Moravia in the east.5 Therefore, its initial task was to protect this route leading to eastern Bohemia and Moravia along the Elbe River so that the newly established town could also control the river and its crossings. Surrounded by a fertile landscape, Kolín provided good conditions for its development. The discovery of huge deposits of silver near Kolín was the turning point that ensured great importance to the town. In the attempt to gain control over the mining area, Kolín got into a dispute with another royal town in the region, Čáslav, which resulted in the royal arbitration in 1289.6 Neither of the two towns won because Kutná Hora, a swiftly developing town with silver mines, seized control over the silver deposits and shortly became the second most important town in

1 This study was supported by the grant from the Czech Science Foundation (GA ČR) ‘Cultural Codes and Their Transformations in the Hussite Period’ (P405/12/G148). 2 For the history of Kolín see a two-volume monograph, Josef Vávra, Dějiny královského města Kolína nad Labem, 2 vols. (Kolín: Tiskem a nákladem J. L. Bayera, 1888; repr. Prague: Argo, 2014–2015). For the foundations of towns in the Kingdom of Bohemia see Jiří Kejř, Die mittelalterlichen Städte in den böhmischen Ländern. Gründung – Verfassung – Entwicklung (Köln – Weimar – Wien: Böhlau, 2010). For the reign of Ottokar II of Bohemia see Jörg K. Hoensch, Přemysl Otakar II. von Böhmen. Der goldene König (Graz and others: Verlag Styria, 1989), and Josef Žemlička, Přemysl Otakar II. Král na rozhraní věků (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 2011). 3 Regesta diplomatica nec non epistolaria Bohemiae et Moraviae II, ed. by Josef Emler (Prague: Typis Grégerianis, 1882), n. 2825, p. 1236. 4 Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, ed. Jaromír Čelakovský (Prague: Knihtiskárna dra Edvarda Grégra, 1895), n. 25, pp. 84–86, n. 26, pp. 86–88. 5 For the routes cf. Ivan Vávra, ‘Haberská stezka’, Historická geografie, 3 (1969), 8–32; Ivan Vávra, ‘Trstenická stezka’, Historická geografie, 6 (1971), 77–132, Pavel Bolina, Tomáš Klimek and Václav Cílek, Staré cesty v krajině středních Čech (Prague: Academia, 2018). 6 Regesta diplomatica nec non epistolaria Bohemiae et Moraviae II, n. 2729, p. 1193. Jan Vojtíšek • Department of Manuscripts and Early Printed Books, National Library of the Czech Republic Urban Hierarchy: The interaction between towns and cities in Europe in Late Medieval and Early Modern Times, ed. by María Asenjo-González, Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan & Andrea Zorzi, Studies in European Urban History (1100–1800) 53 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 147-165.

© FHG

DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.124667

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the Kingdom of Bohemia (after Prague).7 Nevertheless, Kolín remained closely connected with silver mining as its municipal privileges changed from Magdeburg Law to the Bohemian town mining law represented by the Jihlava Mining Law.8 Kolín became a stronghold defending silver mines and Kutná Hora.9 This role of Kolín proved important during two sieges of Kutná Hora at the beginning of the 14th century (firstly in 1307 by the Roman king Albert I of Habsburg and secondly in 1310 by the new king John of Bohemia).10 Both the sieges when the princes turned their attention to Kolín after an unsuccessful attempt of taking control over Kutná Hora show the importance and strength of fortified Kolín in the region. Then we witness especially its economic and administrative development, similar to other towns in the kingdom, since the rest of the 14th century was a period of peace. Kolín – with the estimate of about 2–3,000 inhabitants in the 14th century – became the royal administrative centre.11 It should be noted that Kolín along with Kutná Hora and Čáslav formed a ‘German island’ in Central Bohemia for the majority of residents in these towns were Germans prior to the Hussite Revolution.12 The prosperous development was destroyed by the outburst of the Hussite Wars when Kolín was conquered by the Prague Union in 1421 and later possessed by the Taborite captain Friedrich of Strážnice who after the war took over the town and its domains with the permission of the re-installed King Sigismund of Luxembourg.13 The communication of towns during the Middle Ages and Early Modern Period is a field of research that has been arousing an increasing interest in Czech historiography.14 While municipal accounts that contain expenses on municipal messengers, envoys, and their voyages are essential sources,15 unfortunately only a very small fragment of these documents has survived concerning medieval towns

7 For the history of mining in Kutná Hora cf. Jan Kořan, Dějiny dolování v rudním okrsku kutnohorském (Prague: Vědecko-technické nakladatelství, 1950). 8 František Hoffmann, Středověké město v Čechách a na Moravě (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 2009), p. 399. 9 Close links between the two towns can be observed in multiple sources, see below. 10 Vávra, I, 19–20. 11 Hoffmann, 115. 12 For the national composition of Kolín residents in the Middle Ages cf. Ernst Schwarz, Volkstumsgeschichte der Sudetenländer I. Böhmen (München: Robert Lerche, 1965), pp. 68–74. 13 Vávra, I, 71–78. 14 For example, Ján Lukačka, Martin Štefánik and others, Stredoveké mesto ako miesto stretnutí a komunikácie (Bratislava: Historický ústav SAV, 2010), Martin Čapský and others, Komunikace ve středověkých městech (Opava: European Social Fund – Slezská univerzita v Opavě, 2014), Martin Čapský, Město pod vládou kazatelů. Charizmatičtí náboženští vůdci ve střetu s městskou radou v pozdně středověkých českých korunních zemích (Prague: Argo, 2015), Tomáš Velička, Sepsání – Užívání – Uchovávání. Panovnické listiny v životě českých královských měst ve středověku (Litoměřice – Prague: Státní oblastní archiv v Litoměřicích – Scriptorium, 2018). For the towns in central Bohemia (including Kolín nad Labem) in the modern period (16th and 17th centuries) see Jana Vojtíšková, Písemná komunikace mezi královskými českými městy v době předbělohorské na příkladu Nového Města pražského a polabského pětiměstí (Prague: Scriptorium, 2011). 15 Klára Hübner, Im Dienste ihrer Stadt. Boten– und Nachrichtenorganisation in den schweizerischoberdeutschen Städten des späten Mittelalter (Ostfindern: Thorbecke Verlag, 2010).

the town of kolín and its communication horizons in the late middle ages

in the Kingdom of Bohemia.16 Researchers often have to rely on circumstantial evidence obtained from a huge variety of written sources. Kolín is unfortunately no exception; it is missing in municipal accounts preserved from the medieval period. This study therefore seeks to present the possibilities and limitations of the analysis of the communication of the important royal town in the Kingdom of Bohemia during the Late Middle Ages. It is necessary to study a wide range of sources as each of them can provide us with different information concerning the communication horizons of Kolín residents. Charters with privileges and other governmental documents issued by the royal chancery as well as municipal sources enable us to reconstruct the contacts with the central power. Royalty, however, was not the only central power that burghers of Kolín communicated with. The sources of church administration, thoroughly kept in the Kingdom of Bohemia primarily from the mid-14th century, reveal situations and procedures of burghers negotiating with the (arch)bishop’s clergymen in Prague because Kolín fell within the authority of the Prague (arch-)diocese.17 The municipal sources (municipal books etc.) provide testimony beyond this administrative communication, in particular about economic and familial relations of the town’s residents. We can thus primarily analyse the local network of contacts and communication with other local powers in the region as well as traces of even long-distance trade in these sources. Since the documents from the 13th century are too sporadic to allow us to reconstruct the communication of Kolín and because the Hussite Revolution caused big changes in the life of the town, the study primarily focuses on the 14th and the beginning of the 15th century. 2. Long-Distance Trade The most distant destinations that burghers could communicate with were in general related to their commercial activities. We shall therefore begin the analysis with the study of foreign trade performed by the Kolín residents. Primarily, the royal economic privileges granted to Kolín prove the town’s involvement in trade; first of all the staple right of Kolín. The importance of this privilege can be seen in the events at the beginning of the reign of King 16 Ivan Hlaváček, ‘Dvě zastavení u vztahu Václava IV. a českých měst’, in Pocta Josefu Petráňovi: Sborník prací z českých dějin k 60. narozeninám prof. dr. Josefa Petráně, ed. by Zdeněk Beneš – Eduard Maur and Jaroslav Pánek (Prague: Historický ústav Československé akademie věd, 1991), pp. 55–78. 17 The essential sources are Libri confirmationum, Libri erectionum and Acta judiciaria consistorii pragensis (references see below). For the church administration in the Bohemian lands, Zdeňka Hledíková, ‘Církev v českých zemích na přelomu 14. a 15. století’, in Jan Hus na přelomu tisíciletí: Mezinárodní rozprava o českém reformátoru 15. století a o jeho recepci na prahu třetího milénia, ed. by Miloš Drda – František J. Holeček and Zdeněk Vybíral (Ústí nad Labem: Albis international, 2001), pp. 35–58, and Zdeňka Hledíková, ‘Písemnosti církevní správy pražské (arci)diecéze v pozdním středověku’, in Církevní správa a její písemnosti na přelomu středověku a novověku (= Acta Univesitatis Carolinae. Philosophica et historica 2, 1999. Z pomocných věd historických 15) (Prague: Karolinum, 2003), pp. 27–38.

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John of Bohemia. When in the autumn of 1310 Kolín refused to open its gates to (future) King John who later imposed his power to the Bohemian lands, the victorious king transferred the staple right from Kolín to nearby Nymburk. The burghers of Kolín immediately implored John of Bohemia – even before his coronation – to return the privilege back to Kolín.18 On the same day (31 December 1310), the king granted Kolín an annual fair lasting for two weeks on the Feast of Saint Bartholomew (24 August) to which the Kolín parish church was consecrated.19 This annual fair is connected with a very rarely conserved and interesting source of communication between Bohemian towns with trade centres on the western border of the medieval Empire. A letter of the reeve and municipal councillors of Kolín sent to their counterparts in Frankfurt am Main from 1335–6 informs about the annual fair of Saint Bartholomew in Kolín and asks them to announce it to cunctis supervenientibus hospitibus velitis efficere per aliquas vices eo modo quo expedit dimulgari [!] (‘all incoming guests in different places by suitable means’).20 The knowledge about Kolín in the central region of medieval commerce is also proved by the itinerary of Bruges where Kolín is mentioned as one of the towns on the route from Prague to Kraków.21 Despite the letter to Frankfurt am Main, no proof of concrete commercial activities between the burghers of Kolín and the commercial centres in the regions of Rhine or Flanders exists.22 The reason behind it might be the key position of Prague in Bohemian international trade and its tendency to monopolize it; the ordinance of the royal sub-chamberlain from 1393 shows that international trade was to be obligatorily held in Prague. But the same document also reveals a notice of the involvement of Kolín in this trade; together with Most and České Budějovice Kolín was exempt from this regulation, mainly regarding its salted-fish trade explaining that Kolín had been running it for a long time.23 This trade is further evidenced by the records in the municipal book of Kolín dating back to 1376–1401.24 It lists merchants from Görlitz, Zittau, and Frankfurt (Oder) to whom the burghers of Kolín owed for tunnae allecium (‘vessels of salted herring’):

18 Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 93, pp. 166–68. 19 Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 92, pp. 165–66. 20 Codex diplomaticus Moenofrancofurtanus, ed. by Johann F. Böhmer – Friedrich Lau (Frankfurt am Main: Bern und Co., 1905), II, n. 586, p. 447. The undated letter is estimated to the period between 1 September 1335 and 24 August 1336 according to the confirmation of the annual fair by King John on 1 September 1335, Stanislav Petr, ‘List rychtáře a přísežných města Kolína nad Labem do Frankfurtu nad Mohanem z let 1335–1336’, Práce muzea v Kolíně, 4 (1987), 57–85 (including edition). We copied the text of the letter from the edition but the correct verb in the original was apparently meant to be diwulgari. 21 The text is subscribed ‘De Brugis usque Crakau per Pragam in Bohemia directe’ in the 15th century manuscript from the University library of Gent (Univ. bibl. Gent, 13c [136], fol. 109) edited in Francouzská hussitika I. Akta a listy z let 1383–1435, ed. by Augustin Neumann (Olomouc: Matice cyrilometodějská, 1923), pp. 36–37, note 2. Miloš Dvořák, ‘Císař Karel IV. a pražský zahraniční obchod I’, Pražský sborník historický, 34 (2006), 81–85, dating the origins of the text to the 1380s. 22 For the international cloth trade in the Bohemian lands see František Graus, Český obchod se suknem ve 14. a 15. století (Prague: Melantrich, 1950). 23 Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 638, pp. 818–19. 24 Státní okresní archiv Kolín, Archiv města Kolín (1285–1945), Liber contractuum II, (no inventory number).

the town of kolín and its communication horizons in the late middle ages

Bartholomeus of Görlitz and his associate Petrus Swab in 1399–1401,25 Henricus and Petrus Stang from Zittau in 1400–1401,26 and Paulus Gross of Frankfurt with Henricus of Tribl in 140127 sold fish in Kolín. Only Bartholomeus of Görlitz and his associate Petrus Swab show more intense and varied commercial activities in Kolín as they visited the town in February 1399,28 February 1400,29 and March 1401.30 The merchants mainly sold salted herring, as mentioned above, but records exist that Bartholomeus of Görlitz also sold wine.31 The notices further inform about the fulfilment of credits for the goods. A marginal note for one of the notices related to the business in February 1399 shows the payment method: the sum of money was directly handed to the merchants during their next stay in Kolín (in February 1400) when they again brought their goods to the town.32 The same situation obviously occurred in the case of the debt for wine in winter 1401 as the date of the payment was set to Laetare Sunday that fell on March when the presence of merchants from Görlitz in Kolín was recorded.33 The third notice of the debt payment to the Görlitz traders from October 1401, which indicates remuneration for thirty-six vessels of salted herring bought by Wenceslaus Hamer in March 1401, provides evidence of a different practice: Nicolaus, the scribe of Bartholomeus and Swab, travelled to Kolín to receive the money from the Kolín burgher.34

25 Liber contractuum II, fols 298v, 306v, 315r. 26 Their sale is mentioned in March 1400 as the tanners Mixo and Hensl Manch from Kutná Hora owed them thirteen threescores and eighteen Prague groschen for twelve vessels, Hamman Busiczer owed twenty threescores and six Prague groschen, Pesolt Finder owed nine threescores minus five Prague groschen for eight vessels, Venceslaus Mur and Hannus Stir owed twelve threescores and ten Prague groschen and Nicolaus Hamerl, Pesolt Czegel, and Jelenko owed four and a half threescores of Prague groschen for four vessels, Liber contractuum II, fol. 307v. The second documented trade took place in July 1401 when Johannes, rector schole (‘school rector’), and his brother Marquardus owed them seventeen threescores and sixteen Prague groschen, this time for unspecified goods but we can presume that these were herring as well, Liber contractuum II, fol. 310r. 27 They are mentioned in February 1401 as they sold nine vessels to Pesolt Cunczl, butcher Banili, Francz Groskop and Hensl Sperer, four vessels to bakers Jacobus Hlawacz and Nicus Hamerl, six vessels to Hannus Stir, cloth weaver Venceslaus and Vincencius, a vessel of eighty Prague groschen each to Jacobus Federlini, Liber contractuum II, fol. 315v. 28 A series of records show the debts of Kolín burghers with the merchants: Vlco and carrier Jenko owed five threescores and sixteen Prague groschen, butcher Henl and Figule owed six and half threescores and six Prague groschen, the reeve’s guard Procopius and gardener Banil owed four threescores and three Prague groschen, Marquardus and his brother, the school rector, owed thirteen threescores and twelve Prague groschen and Benedictus Nunnenklepel and Figule owed sixteen threescores Prague groschen, Liber contractuum II, fol. 298v. 29 Benedictus Nunnenklepel and kutler (‘butcher’) Enderlinus owed twenty-seven threescores of Prague groschen for twenty-five vessels of herring and the same Enderlinus with butcher Matyco owed for twelve vessels, Liber contractuum II, fol. 306v. 30 Wenceslaus Hamer owed for thirty-six vessels of salted herring, seven solidus each, Liber contractuum II, fol. 317r. 31 In January 1401, the Kolín municipal council declared itself the guarantor of Wenceslaus of Pustiměř to Swenus and Bartholomeus of Görlitz for wine in the price of eleven threescores and twenty Prague groschen, Liber contractuum II, fol. 315r. 32 The notice concerns the debt of Benedictus Nunnenklepel and Figule, Liber contractuum II, fol. 298v. 33 Liber contractuum II, fols 315r, 317r. 34 Liber contractuum II, fol. 324r.

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The municipal book states other men from Görlitz ( Johannes Schultais35 and Judocus36) and Zittau (Nicolaus Reychel,37 Herczuk,38 Krewchlinus,39 Kunchlinus40, and Stephanus41) who had financial issues (usually as creditors) with residents of Kolín but there are no specific references to the kind of goods. The position of creditor and primarily the person’s ‘surname’ in fact did not necessitate his residency in the given town as illustrated by the cobbler Hannus Gencz from Zittau who obtained the Kolín municipal law, bought a house in the town, and lived there.42 It cannot therefore be concluded that these persons were foreign traders arriving to do business in Kolín. On the other hand, the cambsor (‘money changer’) Adam was granted the citizenship right in Kolín in 1397 which supports its involvement in international trade.43 An official contact of Kolín’s municipality with the burgher of Görlitz, Paulus Leyman, took place in 1390 when the town acknowledged its debt of fifty-four threescores and five Prague groschen to the burgher.44 As the debt was originally inscribed in the record as ex parte domini camerarii (‘from the part of the royal chamberlain’) which was substituted with ex parte communitatis nostre civitatis (‘from the part of the urban community of Kolín’), it seems that the sum was credited to Paulus Leyman by the king for certain expenses or services. There are further notices concerning the contacts with Zittau. In 1393, two debts of five vectores (‘carriers’) from Kolín to the carrier Hermann from Zittau were registered, mentioning that the payment should have taken place at the Fair of Recz as well as a marginal note saying that the carriers from Kolín were associated.45 These records along with the knowledge of eleven carriers in Kolín between 1376 and 1401 prove that trade in Kolín was not only passive, but also included supplying goods to other markets.46 35 Johannes Schultais was always a creditor in the records from 1379 till 1385, Liber contractuum II, fol. 15v, 35v, 63v–64r, 73r, 75r, 78r. 36 Judocus owed to preacher Ulricus in 1389, Liber contractuum II, fol. 132r. 37 He was the creditor of Hannus Bruxer and butchers Hinlinus, Czenkil and Slunczil for twenty threescores in 1379, Liber contractuum II, fol. 20v. 38 He was the creditor of Peschel Pottirsak and his wife Katherina for fourteen threescores in 1379, Liber contractuum II, fol. 72v. 39 He was the creditor of Hensel of Kutná Hora, pincerna (‘landlord’) Weyspruch, Procopius Rewschel of Kutná Horá and Jacobus, the son-in-law of Ffedirl, for six threescores of Prague groschen in 1393/6, Liber contractuum II, fol. 201v. 40 He was the creditor of Johannes, brother of prolocutor (‘advocate’) Tomlinus, for forty-seven Prague groschen in 1393/6, Liber contractuum II, fol. 207r. 41 He was the creditor of Marscho Koprziva who was obliged to deposit eight Prague groschen every week to Johannes, the school rector, until he repaid two threescores of Prague groschen, Liber contractuum II, fol. 272r. 42 He obtained the municipal law probably in 1396, Liber contractuum II, fol. 202r, bought a house that had belonged to Eysenhuter in 1396, fol. 271r, figures as a debtor in 1399, fol. 296v, and bought another house that had belonged to the cobbler Jacobus, in 1401, fol. 319r. 43 Vávra, p. 42. 44 Liber contractuum II, fol. 147v. 45 Among the Kolín carriers were Nicus Mayr, Hensel Speyer, Ffrancz, Hanco who owed eight threescores, Liber contractuum II, fol. 213r, and Pesolt together with his associates owed ten threescores, fol. 217r. 46 Zdeněk Bisinger, ‘Kolínské řemeslo a obchod ve 14. století’, Středočeský sborník historický, 5 (1970), 133–35 (p. 133).

the town of kolín and its communication horizons in the late middle ages

The records in the Kolín municipal book connected with Zittau also mention cattle trade. During 1393–6,47 the Ochsen Treyber (‘cattle driver’) Heindl on his deathbed assigned six threescores of Prague groschen that he had earned in the service for Trencz of Zittau to Martinus Keyl because Heindl spent this amount of money at Keyl’s household or tavern.48 Heindl was therefore driving cattle for his master through Kolín. We know that in the Middle Ages there was an important trade route to transport cattle from Hungary to the Kingdom of Bohemia.49 To complete the list, we also find a reference about Nuremberg, namely a member of the local patrician family of the Derrers in the municipal book of Kolín. This record, however, does not relate to trade but to a payment based on the testament of the preacher Wenczeslaus, a son of Endirlinisse, hailing from a Kolín family.50 The bequest was probably not based on the kinship with the Nuremberg family but more likely on the debt of the preacher who might have borrowed some money from Derrer, perhaps in Prague, as commercial activities of Nuremberg merchants in Prague were on a high level.51 Other towns in the Empire, e.g. Regensburg,52 seem to be the places of origin of new Kolín burghers. The records also reveal the debts of Kolín burghers to the magnus procurator (‘grand procurator’) of the Teutonic Order from Malbork (‘Mergenberg’) but unfortunately the grounds of these credits remain unspecified.53 We can only speculate whether they came from local contacts with the Teutonic Order or whether they were also connected with trade.54

47 The chronological order of the municipal book is interrupted between 1393 and 1396, Václav Vojtíšek, ‘O nejstarších knihách města Kolína nad Labem’, in: Václav Vojtíšek, Výbor rozprav a studií (Prague: Nakladatelství Československé akademie věd, 1953), pp. 86–115. 48 Liber contractuum II, fol. 202v. 49 Miloš Dvořák, ‘Císař Karel IV. a pražský zahraniční obchod II’, Pražský sborník historický, 35 (2007), 7–12. 50 In 1390, Endirl, the son-in-law of Petirlkinne, and Jaxo of Velim paid twenty-five florins and two and a half threescores minus one Prague groschen to Fridericus Derrer, Liber contractuum II, fol. 149v. 51 For example, Ztracená blízkost: Praha – Norimberk v proměnách staletí, ed. by Olga Fejtová – Václav Ledvinka and Jiří Pešek (Prague: Scriptorium 2010), Dvořák, ‘Císař Karel IV. a pražský zahraniční obchod II’, pp. 19–26. 52 The tanner Cuncz Seger from Regensburg who was granted the Kolín municipal law in 1396, Liber contractuum II, fol. 187v. In 1400, he was mentioned as a debtor of ten threescores that he owed to his relatives, the children of the tanner Johannes, with a condition that if he bought a house within a year, the debt would be transformed to a rent over the house, fol. 308r. As Cuncz Seger was declared to owe a rent of one threescore to the children of the tanner Johannes in 1401, he obviously managed to buy a house, fol. 316r. 53 In 1393–6, the butchers Jessko, the son-in-law of Heinczmanin, and Maczey owed seven threescores and ten Prague groschen to the grand procurator or a person with a charter on the debt from him, Liber contractuum II, fol. 207r, and Petrus Pader owed forty-three threescores of Prague groschen under the same condition, fol. 218v. 54 The contacts between the Kingdom of Bohemia and Hanseatic towns, for example Gdańsk (in possession of the Teutonic Order), were not rare in the second half of the 14th and the beginning of the 15th century and salted fish was one of the important trade articles for both the Hanseatic towns and Kolín, Alexandr Zimák, Hanza. Obrazy z dějin severského námořního obchodu (Prague: Libri, 2002), pp. 79, 155–61.

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3. Communication with the Central Power The second and essential sphere of communication of medieval towns included communication with their possessor and administrative institutions; in the case of Kolín, communication took place with the King of Bohemia and central institutions of the royal government. Various viewpoints can be applied to evaluate this type of communication and we chose the following criteria. The first one deals with the question of the communication initiator. Although the material for the study (i.e. charters) was almost exclusively issued by the king and his chancery, we can claim that privileges and other documents bringing benefits to the town were initiated by the town itself; therefore, there must have been urban emissaries to the king and his officers who negotiated the advantages and appealed its issue. On the basis of these privileges, we can thus follow successful Kolín delegations as well as reconstruct where they met the king and his officers.55 Only four out of seventeen privileges granted to the town of Kolín were not issued in Prague.56 Furthermore, three of these four charters granted by King Wenceslaus IV show that envoys met the king in the royal hunting district (Žebrák, Karlštejn)57 or a forest near Prague (Záběhlice) where he pursued his favourite activity, hunting.58 We can conclude that communication with the king initiated by the municipality of Kolín took place, quite logically, in Prague as it was the capital of the kingdom as well as the residence of the king and central royal institutions, and Kolín emissaries would especially travel there to obtain advantageous charters for the town. A specific group of documents comprises royal confirmations of the sales of the office of Kolín’s reeve; a complete series has remained from the 14th century.59 Although the office of the Kolín’s reeve had been granted by the king as a hereditary position, it still was a royal office and that is why the royal confirmation was needed. Naturally, it was the buyer of the office who requested the charter and since all were issued in Prague, he had to ask the royal chancery in Prague. In addition to records regarding the office of the reeve, there is further evidence of communication between the royal administration and individuals when the king allowed the preacher Keyll from Kolín to buy his annual rent of six threescores of Prague groschen on 29 November 1400 which was paid to him by the town of Kolín. The charter was also issued in Prague.60 55 For the communication between the King and royal towns based on privileges see Tomáš Velička, ‘Zeměpanské konfirmační listiny českých a slezských měst do roku 1419’, Historia Slavorum occidentis, 7 (2014/2), 194–214. 56 List of privileges issued in Prague: Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 92, pp. 165–66, n. 93, pp. 166–68, n. 178, pp. 295–96, n. 314, pp. 460–61, n. 328, pp. 476–77, n. 388, pp. 561–62, n. 521, pp. 680–81, n. 603, pp. 768–69, n. 657, pp. 846–49, n. 667, pp. 857–58, n. 668, pp. 858–60, n. 835, pp. 1108–1109, n. 743, pp. 962–63. 57 Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 645, pp. 830–31, n. 796, pp. 1030–1031. 58 Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 825, pp. 1092–1094. 59 Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 413, pp. 600–02, n. 447+448, pp. 639–42, n. 617, pp. 786–88. 60 Zbytky register králův římských a českých z let 1361–1480, ed. by August Sedláček (Prague: Česká akademie císaře Františka Josefa pro vědy, slovesnost a umění, 1914), n. 322, p. 58.

the town of kolín and its communication horizons in the late middle ages

When focusing on the other part of communication, that is the one initiated by the king and central government, the written documents can be divided into several groups. The first group includes royal privileges that were not addressed exclusively to Kolín but to a group of royal towns that Kolín was part of and that was granted certain rights and privileges, for example, the allowance of a free testament to the burghers of the royal towns in 1372.61 This kind of general communication between the king and his towns could also be informative as, for example, in 1405 the king sent letters to royal towns with the findings of the Union of Barons against the violators of Bohemian peace.62 The second group of documents includes royal mandates, such as the Decree of Charles IV to swear allegiance to his first newborn son in 1350 63 and his decree for the royal towns from 1362 to keep a certain amount of arms and armour.64 These mandates and general urban privileges were apparently sent to all these towns via royal messengers. The second kind of royal mandates for towns concerns the economic sphere of the royal communication with the towns. The king could assign a part of his revenues from a town to a certain person, usually a member of his administration or the royal council. In 1360, Charles IV commanded that the town of Kolín give an annual rent of twenty threescores of Prague groschen to the Imperial Court Notary Nicolaus Scholasticus.65 In the municipal book of Kolín, a record appears about paying a hundert threescores of Prague groschen to Baron Vaněk of Dubá in Prague by the royal order with a remark that the town had a receipt with the royal seal of approval.66 In 1401, King Wenceslaus IV granted a mandate to the rent of a hundert and seventy threescores of Prague groschen from Kolín revenues to Vaněk’s kinsman, the royal advisor Andreas of Dubá, for his long-lasting royal service.67 The same year, the well-known apothecary of Prague Angelus was given a royal mandate to the rent of a hundert threescores of Prague groschen from the revenues of Kolín.68 The royal registers also mention Johannes Balile of Caltov and Johannes of Vlašim as holders of the hereditary rent from Kolín in the sum of twenty threescores of Prague groschen each about 1417.69 But the king did not use his towns for pecuniary remunerations only. The royal chaplain and courtier Nicholaus of Münsterberg was granted the administration of the Kolín municipal hospital with its revenues in 1404 through a mandate addressed to Kolín.70 Furthermore, the king used the revenues from his towns to pay debts; for example, in 1401 when Wenceslaus IV bought Ronov Castle near Zittau from Margrave Jobst of Moravia and determined that the

61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70

Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 460, p. 652. Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 775, p. 1008. Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 304, pp. 446–49. Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 399, pp. 577–79. Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 392, p. 567. Liber contractuum II, fol. 215r. Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 742, pp. 960–61. Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 747, p. 966. Zbytky register králův římských a českých, n. 739, p. 106. Zbytky register králův římských a českých, n. 770, pp. 999–1000.

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sum be paid back from the annual rents of the towns of Čáslav, Kolín, Kouřim and Ústí nad Labem.71 The records further reveal a mandate for Kolín (as well as other towns) from 1404 to keep paying the rent to Jobst until the debt was paid off.72 Theses economic mandates were issued and handed to beneficiaries who then entered into communication with the reeve and the municipal council of Kolín and declared their claim.73 The payments usually took place twice, on the feasts of Saint George (23 April) and Saint Gall (15 October) and were handed directly to the beneficiary or – probably more often – to his delegate.74 We are not sure whether these transactions were made in Prague or in Kolín but the receipt of the payment by Vaněk of Dubá with the royal seal suggests Prague as well as the entry in the municipal book of Kolín from 1376 when the Kolín burgher Nicolaus Scheczil brought collected money from the order of the municipal council to Prague to pay urban taxes to the Royal Chamber as well as to certain individuals.75 Selected burghers of Kolín thus handed the royal taxes paid by Kolín to the Royal Chamber in Prague.76 The second category of communication between Kolín and the king, his officers, and governmental institutions is characterized by the place where it took place. Since the analysis of the communication in Prague was covered above, we will focus on the communication in Kolín. The royal visits of the town represented the most exquisite form of communication with the king and his retinue. Speaking about the kings of the House of Luxembourg in the 14th century, several stops of kings John and Charles IV are documented.77 The town’s location presumes that the monarchs passed through them rather frequently. On the other hand, the sources remain silent about any potential

71 Codex diplomaticus et epistolaris Moraviae XIII, ed. by Vincenz Brandl (Brno: Verlag des Mährischen Landes-Ausschusses, 1897), n. 133, p. 143–45. 72 Zbytky register králův římských a českých, n. 532, p. 78. 73 Beata Możejko, ‘The Gdańsk Rent as a Subject od Communications Between King Kazimierz Jagiellończyk, the Polish Nobility and Gdańsk’, in Komunikace ve středověkých městech, ed. by Martin Čapský and others (Ostrava: European Social Fund and Slezská univerzita v Opavě, 2014), pp. 81–94. 74 It is the case of Nicolaus Scholasticus (Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 392, pp. 567) and Andreas of Dubá (Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 742, pp. 960–61). 75 Scheczil brought sixty-nine threescores of Prague groschen to Prague out of which he handed fiftyeight threescores to the Royal Chamber Notary Hanco, six threescores to brothers Peschiko and Stanco, and five threescores to the miles (‘knight’) Johannes of Lech, Liber contractuum II, fol. 1v. The same people appear in the presumed expenses of the municipal taxes registered in the same source, Johannes of Leczh possessed an annual rent of twenty threescores and Stanco and Peschico held an annual rent of twelve threescores, Liber contractuum II, fol. 4v. 76 For the taxes paid by the royal towns of the Kingdom of Bohemia in the Middle Ages see Jan Vojtíšek, ‘Daňový systém českých měst za vlády Lucemburků’, in Chrudim v době Karla IV., ed. by Jan Frolík – Jan Vojtíšek and others (Chrudim: Městský úřad Chrudimi, 2016), pp. 83–92. 77 John of Bohemia stopped there three times, Ivan Hlaváček, ‘Verwaltungsgeschichtliche Bemerkungen zum Itinerar Johanns von Luxembourg’, in Johann der Blinde: Graf von Luxembourg , König von Böhmen 1296–1346, ed. by Michel Pauly (Luxembourg: CLUDEM, 1997), pp. 121–34 (pp. 28–9), while Charles IV stopped there, for example, in 1338, Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae I, ed. Jaromír Čelakovský (Prague: Knihtiskárna dra Edvarda Grégra, 1886), n. 33, pp. 53–4, n. 34, pp. 54–5.

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visits and sojourns of Wenceslaus IV in Kolín.78 The reason behind it might be his preference of nearby Kutná Hora where he reconstructed the royal residence at the Italian Court.79 As for the royal institutions and officers keeping contacts with towns, it was chiefly the royal sub-chamberlain (subcamerarius) and the royal court reeve (iudex curiae or hofrichter) – they were in charge of the royal towns’ administration and communicated with towns on behalf of the royal authority.80 Their duties that included the control over fiscal collections, confirmations of new municipal councils, and the judicial supervision brought them to towns regularly. Their presence in Kolín was evidenced on several occasions when they assisted the iudicium bannitum (‘solemn municipal court’).81 Apart from their personal presence in the town, written communication was held between the royal court reeve and Kolín as evidenced by the appeal to the judgement of this officer recorded in the municipal book in 1386.82 This communication was kept in German.83 When analysing the communication with central institutions, the church represented by the (archi)episcopate of Prague also played an important role. When burghers of Kolín needed to discuss some matters with the ecclesiastical administration, they addressed the court of the (arch)episcopal judge.84 Such communication was predominantly related to pious legacies of their fellow burghers and other pious donations. A good example of this communication is illustrated by the entry in the Libri erectionum (‘Books of Foundations’) from 1386 concerning the donation of the rent for an altarist of the Virgin Mary in the parish church of Kolín. The chosen altarist, Father Nicolaus of Kojetín, appeared at the court with two letters from the municipal council of Kolín addressed to the archiepiscopal court, one on paper sealed with the minor municipal seal presenting Nicolaus as a chosen candidate and the other one on parchment sealed with the major municipal seal confirming the donation of the rent, and asked for the official confirmation by the office.85 The communication between the town and the archiepiscopal court in Prague was written and the selected

78 Ivan Hlaváček, Das Urkunden– und Kanzleiwesen des böhmischen und römischen Königs Wenzel (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, 1970), pp. 392–444. 79 František Záruba, Hrady Václava IV.: Od nedobytného útočiště k pohodlné rezidenci (Prague: Katolická teologická fakulta Univerzity Karlovy v Praze, 2014), pp. 336–9. 80 Jaromír Čelakovský, Úřad podkomořský v Čechách: Příspěvek k dějinám stavu městského v zemích českých (Prague: Tiskem a nákladem J. Otty, 1881), for the communication of royal towns with these royal officers see Tomáš Velička, ‘Města v žateckém kraji a královští úředníci v době předhusitské’, Porta Bohemica, 6 (2013), 146–93. 81 For example, Liber contractuum II, fols 122r, 174r. 82 The communication consists of three complaints, three sentences, and three replies, Liber contractuum II, fols 90r–91r. 83 For the language of the written communication between the royal institutions and royal towns in the Kingdom of Bohemia in Late Middle Ages see Tomáš Velička, ‘Jazyk v písemné komunikaci královských měst českého severozápadu ve středověku’, Porta Bohemica, 7 (2015), 57–109. 84 Božena Kubíčková, ‘K počátkům pražského oficiálátu’, in Sborník příspěvků k dějinám hlavního města Prahy, ed. by Václav Vojtíšek (Prague: Obec hlavního města Prahy, 1932), V, pp. 391–479. 85 Libri erectionum archidioecesis pragensis saeculo xiv et xv I, ed. by Clemens Borovy (Prague: Ottomar Beyer, 1873), n. 387, p. 227.

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clergyman travelled to the court in Prague. But it could also be the burghers of Kolín who appeared at the court as evidenced by the fulfilment of the pious legacy to the altar of Corpus Christi in the parish church of Kolín. Johannes, the son of the deceased burghers Franciscus and Katherine of Křečhoř from a prominent Kolín family, appeared before the court in 1403 asking for the confirmation of his parents’ heritage.86 Personal contacts between the burghers of Kolín and the archiepiscopate of Prague are further proved by a debt of the burgher Henzlinus Plebshy to Archbishop John of Jenstein in 1381.87 4. C  ommunication with Other Towns in the Kingdom of Bohemia The last aspect of Kolín’s communication dealt with by this study is its communication with other towns in the Kingdom of Bohemia as well as with Kolín’s vicinity where it had substantial influence. While Prague, the capital of the Kingdom of Bohemia, was the centre of power and seat of central institutions, Kolín burghers also turned to it in relation to economic and social affairs. Historical sources show mainly individual relationships among the burghers of these two urban agglomerations. Only two records reflect other than individual contacts between the residents of Kolín and Prague. The first one is the account of expenses of the Old Town of Prague from 1312 where four legations to the towns of Kutná Hora, Čáslav, and Kolín are mentioned.88 These missions might be linked with the sojourn of King John in Kolín in August 1312 so this mention cannot be used as evidence of mutual communication between the municipalities.89 The other exception is the foundation of the Chapel of Saint Anne in the Church of Saint Gall in Prague and the economic provision of the chaplain in 1375 according to a testament of the Old Town of Prague’s burgher Henricus Czigeler and his wife.90 The list of revenues of the chaplain includes a charter of the rent that the town of Kolín was bound to pay to the chaplain. The deceased burgher of the Old Town of Prague therefore possessed a rent from Kolín. The testaments also reveal familial links between the residents of Kolín and Prague (as well as other towns). For example, the widow of Hoschalko from Kolín left twenty threescores of Prague groschen to her daughter in Prague.91 The last will of Christina, the widow of Pesoldus Eylawer, is quite interesting for she distributed money to her relatives

86 Acta judiciaria consistorii pragensis IV, ed. by Ferdinand Tadra (Prague: Česká akademie císaře Františka Josefa pro vědy, slovesnost a umění, 1898), n. 370, p. 275–77. 87 Acta judiciaria consistorii pragensis II, ed. by Ferdinand Tadra (Prague: Česká akademie císaře Františka Josefa pro vědy, slovesnost a umění, 1893), n. 114, p. 95–96, n. 157, p. 103. 88 Regesta diplomatica nec non epistolaria Bohemiae et Moraviae III, ed. by Josef Emler (Prague: Typis Grégerianis, 1890), n. 114, p. 48–49. 89 Regesta diplomatica nec non epistolaria Bohemiae et Moraviae III, n. 101, p. 43. 90 Libri erectionum archidioecesis pragensis saeculo xiv et xv I, n. 226, p. 109. 91 Liber contractuum II, fol. 224v.

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in Prague, Kutná Hora, and Skalice (near Kouřim) where one of her relatives was a Cistercian monk.92 Furthermore, Kolín testamentary practices also reveal pious legacies to Prague churches when, for example, Katherine, the widow of Johannes Pleybshy, handed her possessions to Wenceslaus, Dean of Vyšehrad, or when Petrus Stachonis bought an annual rent of five threescores of Prague groschen for the altar of Saint Catherine in the Prague Cathedral over the Kolín possessions of the orphans of Wenceslaus Koler, a prominent burgher of Kolín.93 There is one more contact with a Prague ecclesiastical institution – the Kolín burgher Ulricus of Velim who vouched for the prior of the Dominican Convent of Kolín in the purchase of a forest from the Zbraslav Monastery (Aula regia).94 Economic contacts between the burghers of Prague and Kolín still predominated. Nevertheless, the only explicit case of a commercial activity is the purchase of nine tinae (‘vessels’) of French wine from the Old Town’s burgher Wenceslaus Smalcz by Wenceslaus of Pustiměř and Andreas Giczener for twenty-one threescores of Prague groschen in 1401.95 Wenceslaus of Pustiměř was obviously active in wine trade, at least that year, as he also traded wine with the merchants Bartholomeus of Görlitz and Petrus Swab.96 The analysis of Kolín trade and the commercial position of Prague indicate that Kolín burghers primarily bought foreign goods in Prague from Prague burghers (except for herring).97 Evidence is provided by the debts of quite substantial sums to burghers of the Old and New Towns of Prague, for example Henslinus Weynandi owing forty threescores of Prague groschen to Jacobus Iudenfeint and other forty threescores to Menlinus of the New Town of Prague in 1378,98 and Waczlav Coler owing forty-eight threescores to Johannes of Ach in 1383.99 Apart from these connections to international trade, we find traces of local craftsmen’s business; for example, the tanner Cuncz from Kolín owed three threescores minus fifteen Prague groschen to his fellow tanner Rodlinus from the New Town of Prague in 1399.100 Considerably less information is available about the communication between Kolín and other Bohemian towns, except for Jihlava and Kutná Hora. Since Jihlava was the first important royal mining town founded in the kingdom, its municipal law served as a reference for the king when he founded other mining towns. Jihlava became the court of appeal and a place of legal consultation for other towns belonging to the Jihlava juridical group.101 Naturally, Kolín was 92 Anna of Prague received two threescores, Erasmus and Kacza from Kutná Hora received three threescores each, and Procopius, the monk in Skalice monastery, received an annual rent of one threescore until his death, Liber contractuum II, fols 121rv, 123rv (her testament was entered twice in the municipal book). 93 Both entries Liber contractuum II, fol. 192r. 94 Liber contractuum II, fol. 32r. 95 Liber contractuum II, fol. 323r. 96 Liber contractuum II, fol. 315r. 97 Miloš Dvořák, ‘Císař Karel IV. a pražský zahraniční obchod I’, pp. 7–91. 98 Liber contractuum II, fol. 9r. 99 Liber contractuum II, fol. 62r. 100 Liber contractuum II, fol. 301v. 101 František Hoffmann, Jihlavské právo (Havlíčkův Brod: Krajské nakladatelství, 1959).

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among them as evidenced by the communication between the municipality of Kolín and Oberhof (‘Upper Court’) of Jihlava in preserved manuscripts of this superior institution of Jihlava law. In the 14th century, the Kolín municipal council consulted their counterparts of the Jihlava Upper Court regarding various matters, starting from questions of judicial powers (e.g. the municipal council and the royal sub-chamberlain)102 and legal validity of various kinds of charters,103 to penalties for injuries104 and burghers’ disputes in commercial, matrimonial, and many times also hereditary issues.105 As the Jihlava municipal law also served as the mining law, the Kolín municipality consulted the Upper Court on these matters as well.106 Certain cases described in the register books of the Jihlava Upper Court also provide information about the communication of Kolín with the burghers and municipalities in other towns. The Court for example solved the dispute of Otto Posenbach, a prominent burgher of the Old Town of Prague, with certain Kolín burghers after Otto solicited the payment of a debt based on seventeen-year-old charter, but the burghers of Kolín had a privilege from Charles IV that all documents regarding the Kolín burghers had to be published within one year otherwise their legal claim was lost.107 Even more interesting is the dispute of two burghers of Kutná Hora, Lorencz and Cunczil, with the burgher of Kolín Hanich Lederer over the possession of thirty-six oxen.108 Besides the comment that the cattle was bought in Vienna, proving the participation of Kolín and Kutná Hora burghers in cattle trade, we can observe the involvement of the municipalities of both towns in the effort to solve the case. The dispute was then passed to Jihlava. In such cases, we can observe the juridical hierarchy of towns and Kolín’s position. The situation of the village of Velim is instructive in this respect. The village superiors wrote to the Jihlava Upper Court to confirm the sentence of the Kolín municipal council regarding a struggle over the tutelage of a young girl from Velim and her inherited property between her uncle and the Abbot of Zbraslav Monastery.109 Another case also concerned the right of inheritance when the jurati (‘councillors’) from Velim appeared before the Kolín municipal council in 1390 to consult the issue of the inheritance share for the children of Henslinus Rabenstein.110 Kolín therefore acted as the court of appeal and the

102 Der Oberhof Iglau in Mähren und seine Schöffensprüche aus dem xiii.–xvi. Jahrhundert, ed. by Johann Adolf Tomaschek (Innsbruck: Verlag der Wagner’schen Universitäts-Buchhandlung, 1868), n. 11–12, p. 60. 103 Der Oberhof Iglau in Mähren, n. 74–77, pp. 73–74. 104 Der Oberhof Iglau in Mähren, n. 136, p. 90. 105 Der Oberhof Iglau in Mähren, n. 237, pp. 132–34, n. 240, pp. 135, n. 274, pp. 178–79. 106 Das böhmische Bergrecht des Mittelalters auf Grundlage des Bergrechts von Iglau II. Quellen, ed. by Adolf Zycha (Berlin: Franz Vahlen, 1900), n. 1, pp. 298–300, n. 5, pp. 304–08, n. 312–13, n. 36, pp. 341–43, n. 45, pp. 361–65, n. 117, pp. 497–98. 107 Der Oberhof Iglau in Mähren, n. 238, p. 134. 108 Der Oberhof Iglau in Mähren, n. 251–2, pp. 145–46. 109 Der Oberhof Iglau in Mähren, n. 297, pp. 205–06. 110 The case was entered twice in the municipal book, Liber contractuum II, fols 147r (in Latin) and 147v (in German).

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village of Velim abided by its municipal law. The position of the Kolín municipal law in nearby villages is further evidenced by a charter granted by Petrus of Smrkovice and Herman of Končice to Tři Dvory in which the nobles give the right to the villagers to own property under the law of Kolín.111 Along with judicial communication, there are other references that provide evidence of closer contacts and bonds among the royal mining towns within the Jihlava municipal law. It is primarily their cooperation in the penal and police spheres. In 1348, King Charles IV ordered that the municipalities of Kutná Hora, Čáslav, and Kolín assist the town of Jihlava in their persecutions of criminals and peace violators.112 The same order was issued again by Wenceslaus IV in 1410, this time to everybody but specially requesting an assistance to Jihlava from the towns of the Jihlava juridical group, namely Kutná Hora, Kolín, Čáslav, and Jílové u Prahy.113 Based on the charters, the towns ought to have cooperated in maintaining justice by sharing armed forces and information. Although it remains uncertain whether these royal mandates were fulfilled, the royal orders assume intense communication between the municipalities of the aforesaid towns. Commercial activities between the burghers of Jihlava and Kolín can also be observed. The prominent Kolín burgher Nicholaus of Jihlava, often associated to the Kolín municipal notary Stephanus, was a very active man.114 In Jihlava, the leading merchants who did business with Kolín were Adam of Jihlava115 and Ulricus Payer with his associates.116 Adam of Jihlava used his servant Tauscher to communicate with the municipality of Kolín, sending him to the Kolín council to proclaim the debt of Kolín burghers solved and to promise the issuing of a charter sealed by the town of Jihlava in 1390.117 Similar economic contacts, though probably less intense, are observed in another mining town, Havlíčkův Brod, where we discovered a business association of local burghers as the creditors of Nicolaus of Jihlava and the Kolín notary Stephanus in 1391.118 Regarding the mining towns and in fact all towns in the Kingdom of Bohemia including Prague, Kolín, quite logically, had the most intense contacts with

111 The charter was sealed with the seal of Kolín, Regesta diplomatica nec non epistolaria Bohemiae et Moraviae V/1, ed. by Jiří Spěváček (Prague: Československá akademie věd, 1958), n. 213, p. 115. 112 Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 262, pp. 396–97. 113 Codex diplomaticus et epistolaris Moraviae XIV, ed. by Berthold Bretholz (Brno: Verlag des Mährischen Landes-Ausschusses, 1903), n. 127, p. 117. 114 Nicolaus of Jihlava who seems to have arrived in Kolín from Jihlava in 1385, Liber contractuum II, fol. 80r, was one of the most important Kolín burghers in the 1380s and 1390s, the member of the municipal council and the burgomaster; he had rich economic activities not only with Kolín and Jihlava burghers but also with Kolín Jews and residents of Kutná Hora and Český Brod, Liber contractuum II, passim. 115 He dealt with Nicolaus of Jihlava and the Kolín notary Stephanus was their creditor in 1390 and 1391, Liber contractuum II, fols 143v, 146r, 146v, 147r, 162r. 116 He dealt with Jeklinus Hamer and also with Nicolaus of Jihlava and the Kolín notary Stephanus was their creditor in 1389 and 1391, Liber contractuum II, fols 134r, 159v, 162r. 117 Nicolaus of Jihlava and the notary Stephanus borrowed nineteen threescores of Prague groschen, Liber contractuum II, fols 143v, 146v. 118 They owed to Michel Goppult, Henricus Guldenredel, and their company sixteen threescores and fifteen Prague groschen for certain vas (‘vessels’), Liber contractuum II, fol. 160v.

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neighbouring Kutná Hora. The residents of these towns were interconnected with close familial and economic bonds.119 The migration between these towns was quite intense and the possessions of rents, houses, and craftsmen’s facilities and selling stands in Kolín by the burghers of Kutná Hora were rather common.120 Naturally, the holder of the office of the royal magister monetae (‘mintmaster’), e.g. Martinus Rotlev, as well as other members of prominent families of Kutná Hora (e.g. Tyczko Klems, Vincencius Rosental), were most economically active.121 The sources reveal prominent burghers of Kutná Hora as well as holders of various properties (agricultural estates, rents, and even strongholds) in villages nearby Kolín.122 Economic and business activities between these two towns were therefore intense. Wood, imported to Kolín primarily on the Elbe, was one of the important trading goods and the Kolín municipality enforced the staple right on it.123 In 1363, Charles IV had to resolve a dispute between the burghers of Kolín and Kutná Hora over the staple right of wood in Kolín; in the outcome, the burghers of Kutná Hora were exempt from the obligation of the deposit of wood in Kolín but were strictly forbidden to sell wood that was designated only for their use.124 Along with wood, assumingly imported salted herring formed an important part of the Kolín burghers’ business as they supplied miners of Kutná Hora with food. Food trade consisted of grain grown in the agricultural estates owned or leased by the burghers of Kolín and Kutná Hora.125 Craft trade naturally existed between the two towns as well. Contacts with other towns in the region are quite rarely found in the sources. The most significant connection between Kolín and the town of Čáslav are familial relations of their pre-eminent families. In 1382, Georgius Weinandi and Wenczl Trampler of the leading Kolín dynasties owed sixty-five threescores of Prague groschen to Hannus Busiczer, a burgher of Čáslav, for a dowry of his wife.126 119 The close bonds between the two towns deserve a separate study. 120 Liber contractuum II, passim. 121 Liber contractuum II, passim. For Kutná Hora patrician families and municipal council, Tomáš Borovský, ‘Správa města a radní vrstva v předhusitské Kutné Hoře’, in Celostátní vědecká studentská konference Historie 1996, ed. by Petr Grulich (Hradec Králové: Pedagogická fakulta VŠP, 1997), pp. 59–83, Tomáš Borovský, ‘Particiát nebo radní vrstva? Kutná Hora v předhusitském období’, in Královská a poddanská města od své geneze k protoindustrializaci a industrializaci, ed. by Jiří Jurok (Ostrava: Filozozická fakulta Ostravské univerzity, Nový Jičín: Okresní vlastivědné muzeum Nový Jičín, 2002), pp. 87–101. 122 For immovable properties of Kutná Hora burghers in the region see Tomáš Borovský, ‘Venkovské statky kutnohorských měšťanů v předhusitském období’, Sborník prací Filozofické fakulty brněnské univerzity, C 14 (1998), 65–78, Vojtěch Vaněk, ‘Kutnohorští měšťané jako patroni a fundátoři v prostředí venkovských farních kostelů v předhusitské době’, Studia mediaevalia bohemika, 6 (2014/2), 235–54. 123 As evidenced by the regulations proclaimed by the Kolín municipal council in 1390, Liber contractuum II, fol. 145r. 124 Codex juris municipalis regni Bohemiae II, n. 404, pp. 585–86. 125 For Kutná Hora burghers see Borovský, ‘Venkovské statky’, pp. 65–78. For Kolín burghers, we find their curia (‘agricultural estates’), for example, in the villages of Kly, Křečhoř, Licko, Mnichovice (today part of Kolín), Pašinka, Polepy, Popoves (no longer existing), Starý Kolín and Tři Dvory, Liber contractuum II, passim. 126 Liber contractuum II, fol. 46r.

the town of kolín and its communication horizons in the late middle ages

In 1400, one of the most important Kolín burghers, Jaxo Bresslawer, bequeathed in his testament considerable sums of fifty threescores of Prague groschen each to his two nephews, Johannes and Paulus, and his niece Anna in Čáslav designating his son-in-law Andreas, the reeve of Čáslav, to be one of the executors of the last will.127 Bresslawer was active in Čáslav when he vouched for the tanner Claus from Čáslav to pay fourteen threescores and twenty Prague groschen to the children of the smith Hinczlinus in 1391.128 Besides these family relations between the urban elites of the two towns, craftsmen’s business contacts were discovered, for example, between Andreas circa portam Albeam, a smith from Kolín, and Petrus, a coppersmith from Čáslav.129 Other towns of the area such as Kouřim and Český Brod are found in the sources in connection with Kolín only through individuals, for example, the reeve of Kouřim Herscho sold cereal to Kolín burghers in 1379130 and Peschco from Český Brod bought an agricultural estate in Starý Kolín in 1385.131 Further communication between the towns and other centres of power and administration in the region can be seen in the dispute of the town of Nymburk and the Royal Burgrave of Poděbrady over the roads used by Nymburk burghers when they transported charcoal to Kutná Hora.132 The burgrave Frenzlinus invited the reeves and two selected municipal councillors from Prague, Kutná Hora, Kolín, and Kouřim as well as councillors from surrounding villages to defend himself against the accusations by Nymburk. The dispute seems to have been won by Nymburk burghers as in 1355 the town of Nymburk received their charter from Baron Boček of Poděbrady, the new owner of Poděbrady,133 granting them a free passage through his estates confirmed by the municipality of Kolín.134 The required corroboration of Kolín affirms its role of an arbiter in the dispute. The administrative authority of Kolín in the region is also evidenced in Libri proclamationum serving to register the cases of the escheat law. Kolín is mentioned along with Kouřim and Čáslav as a place where deaths of local landowners were publically proclaimed.135 This position of Kolín as the centre of local communication and administration is further supported by the fact that

127 Liber contractuum II, fol. 312r. 128 Liber contractuum II, fol. 168r. 129 The smith from Kolín owed eight threescores of Prague groschen to his counterpart in Čáslav in 1393/1396, Liber contractuum II, fol. 187r. 130 Henslinus Greczer, Petir Verber, Jax Kametil and Fricz Kametil owed to the reeve for sixty mensure (‘measures’) of cereal, Liber contractuum II, fols 18v–19r. 131 Liber contractuum II, fol. 85v. 132 Codex epistolaris Johannis regis Bohemiae, ed. by Theodor Jacobi (Berlin: T. Trautwein), n. 184, pp. 74–75, n. 204, pp. 80–81. 133 Miroslav Plaček and Peter Futák, Páni z Kunštátu: Rod erbu vrchních pruhů na cestů k trůnu (Prague: Nakladatelství Lidové noviny, 2006), pp. 333–36. 134 Regesta diplomatica nec non epistolaria Bohemiae et Moraviae IV/1, ed. by Bedřich Mendl (Prague: Ministerium scholarum et instructionis publicae, 1928), n. 186, p. 106. 135 Archiv český XXXI: První kniha provolací desk dvorských z let 1380–1394, ed. by Gustav Friedrich (Prague: Domestikální fond český, Bursík a Kohout, 1921), n. 20, p. 306, n. 24, p. 310, n. 35, p. 314, n. 47, p. 317, n. 74, p. 323, n. 96, pp. 331–32, n. 107, pp. 335–36, n. 112, p. 337, n. 113, p. 337, Archiv český

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nearby villages (e.g. Jestřábí Lhota) had their privileges and charters deposited in the municipal chancellery of Kolín.136 The communication of Kolín with further towns of the Kingdom of Bohemia is almost missing in the sources. One must resort to sporadic records. We can only speculate about the business activities between Jaxo Bresslawer and Johannes Gruschus from Fryštát137 or the activity of Mara, a female merchant from Benešov, in Kolín138 but no conclusive sources are available. The only mention describing the communication of the Kolín municipality with their counterpart in Brno can be found in the judicial book of the Moravian town. It depicts a Kolín envoy with a letter from his reeve and council to the Brno counterparts with a demand of handing over of a certain balneator (‘bath-keeper’) living in Brno who had committed murder in Kolín and was banned there.139 Regrettably, the outcome of the case remains unknown. 5. Conclusion To sum up, there are several levels of the analysis of the communication horizons in the medieval town that defines the hierarchical position of the town in the political and economic structure of the country. The study of Kolín’s long-distance trade activities shows its specialization in salted-fish trade and predominant contacts with German towns on the northern route towards the Baltic Sea. We also find references to cattle trade that passed through Kolín from Hungary to Prague. Regarding other international trade, Kolín seems to have depended on Prague where trade took place by Old Town burghers. Close contacts and communication with the capital (about 55 kilometres away) were intensified by negotiations with the central power and duties. Prague was practically the only destination for Kolín envoys as well as its burghers to come in contact with the king. Since the central institutions (secular as well as ecclesiastical) resided in Prague, the residents of Kolín had to travel to Prague. The payments of taxes and other matters were also dealt with in Prague. The communication with Kolín was carried out by royal envoys bringing letters from the king, by visits of royal

136 137 138 139

XXXV: Druhá kniha provolací desk dvorských z let 1395–1410, ed. by Gustav Friedrich (Prague: Domestikální fond český, Dr. Ed. Grégr a syn, Bursík a Kohout, 1935), n. 10, pp. 292–93, n. 6, pp. 368–70, n. 7, pp. 370, n. 8, pp. 370–71, n. 10, pp. 372–73, n. 12, p. 374. For the local centres and the position of Kolín see David Kalhous, ‘Od Libice ke Kolínu: Dějiny jedné oblasti do husitství I’, Mediaevalia Historica Bohemica, 13 (2010/2), 7–58, David Kalhous, ‘Od Libice ke Kolínu: Dějiny jedné oblasti do husitství II’, Mediaevalia Historica Bohemica, 14 (2011/1), 7–70. Jaxo Bresslawer owed twenty-six threescores of Prague groschen to Johannes Gruschus and Ulricus Weysenpach from Fryštát in 1390 and fifteen threescores just to Johannes Gruschus in 1391, Liber contractuum II, 146v, 198r. She owed two and a half threescores of Prague groschen to Henslinus Czwekel in 1400, Liber contractuum II, fol. 315v. Právní kniha města Brna z poloviny 14. století I, ed. by Miroslav Flodr (Brno: Archiv města Brna, 1990), n. 584, pp. 345–46.

the town of kolín and its communication horizons in the late middle ages

officers exercising their powers, and by beneficiaries of the royal generosity or their delegates claiming the right. Jihlava was another important place for Kolín’s administration because Kolín fell within the authority of the Jihlava municipal law. We therefore observe intense communication between the two towns. This communication can be characterized by three aspects: the legal one which was the most important, the penal aspect consisting of cooperation in persecuting crime, and the economic aspect that went hand in hand with business activities of the burghers. In general, it can be stated that communication among the entire group of towns under the Jihlava municipal law took place in multiple fields and created tight bonds among the towns. Kolín and its inhabitants naturally held the closest contacts with neighbouring Kutná Hora but other ‘mining towns’ appear in the sources more often than the remaining towns in the Kingdom of Bohemia. At the regional level, Kolín occupied the role of an important commercial centre of wood as well as agricultural production. It also served as the administrative regional centre along with the towns of Kouřim and Čáslav. Finally, Kolín’s written communication was done in Latin and German. Both languages were used in communication with royal institutions as well as with the Upper Court of Jihlava. However, Latin was quickly disappearing in communication with the Upper Court. It actually survived only on inserted charters but the Court resolutions were written in German. The proceedings were obviously led in German. The same could be stated for the sessions of the Kolín municipal council although its municipal books were still written in Latin. Latin was also used in communication with the ecclesiastical institutions as well as local centres of power (except for towns).

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Urban Hierarchies and the Institutional Fabric of Late Medieval European Towns

Medieval cities and towns were not islands, they were inseparably connected with their hinterlands and with each other. These spatial configurations can be modelled and analysed from two basic perspectives. On the one hand, a city’s connections can be functionally explained by mapping its administrative, economic or cultural roles within a wider region. Well-known examples of this approach are Walter Christaller’s theory of central places, according to which urban centres form a stable, nested urban hierarchy, and Paul Hohenberg and Lynn Lees’ idea of a dynamic network system, in which urban centres constitute flexible nodes, thereby operating as gateways between their hinterlands and wider networks.1 On the other hand, more quantitative approaches have been developed to plot rank-size distributions of cities and towns, for instance by Jan de Vries, who calculated the urban potential of early modern European regions by measuring the size of cities within them, their proximity to one another, and the ease of travelling between them. Similarly, Alan Dyer made an analysis of the hierarchy of medieval English cities and towns based on their size and wealth.2 Since the end of the last century, historians have effectively combined elements of both the functional and the hierarchical approaches to urban networks or regions.3 Since then, the development and dynamics of regional urban hierarchies have typically been examined on the basis of demographic and fiscal data or by using a number of variables for which information can be deduced from sources regarding the various administrative, commercial, ecclesiastical or cultural functions of urban centres. Two outstanding examples of this approach are Derek Keene’s work on the region of medieval London and Peter Stabel’s study on the urban network of late medieval Flanders.4 In the latter case, the relative 1 Walter Christaller, Die zentralen Orte in Süddeutschland: Eine ökonomisch-geographische Untersuchung über die Gesotzmässigkeit der Verbreitung und Entwicklung der Siedlungen mit städtischen Funktionen ( Jena: Gustav Fischer, 1933); Paul M. Hohenberg and Lynn Hollen Lees, The Making of Urban Europe, 1000–1994 (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1995). 2 Jan de Vries, European Urbanization, 1500–1800 (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1984); Alan Dyer, Decline and Growth in English Towns, 1400–1640 (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995). 3 Städtelandschaft – Réseau Urbain – Urban Network. Städte im regionalen Kontext in Spätmittelalter und früher Neuzeit, ed. by Holger Thomas Gräf and Katrin Keller (Köln; Weimar; Wien: Böhlau, 2004). 4 Derek Keene, ‘Medieval London and its Region’, London Journal, 14 (1989), 99–111; Peter Stabel, Dwarfs among Giants: The Flemish Urban Network in the Late Middle Ages (Louvain: Garant, 1997).

Arie van Steensel • University of Groningen, The Netherlands Urban Hierarchy: The interaction between towns and cities in Europe in Late Medieval and Early Modern Times, ed. by María Asenjo-González, Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan & Andrea Zorzi, Studies in European Urban History (1100–1800) 53 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 167-182.

© FHG

DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.124668

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position of the Flemish cities and towns is established at different points in time on the basis of no fewer than seventeen criteria; these snapshots of the urban hierarchy further allow an analysis of the dynamics of the county’s polynuclear urban system, in which the large cities of Bruges, Ghent and Ypres were followed in rank by multiple urban centres of secondary and tertiary importance. In England, by contrast, London increasingly dominated its region, but its network at this time did not yet clearly extend beyond these boundaries to a national level, as it would in the early modern period. Besides, regional urban networks also emerged in the later Middle Ages, often based on the agricultural economy, as has been demonstrated for Leicestershire, Northamptonshire and Rutland, where a relatively stable urban hierarchy could be established on the basis of multiple benchmarks such as demography, topography, social and occupational structures, administrative functions, and civic and material culture.5 In sum, the connections between cities and towns in the late Middle Ages – whether conceived as forming an urban network or a region – were varied, fluid and complex to a greater or lesser degree, and urban historians of pre-modern Europe have shown more interest in the dynamics of hierarchies within urban networks or regions than in their geometric configurations. The new surge of interest in economic (in)equality makes it worth revisting the theme of urban networks in pre-modern Europe. The distribution of wealth and social inequality has long been an issue addressed by urban historians,6 but the recent work by the economist Thomas Piketty, amongst others, has given an impetus to the study of the long-term patterns of income and wealth inequality. As far as the available data – fiscal records are rarely preserved for the period before the fifteenth century – allow for any firm conclusions about the causes and consequences of economic inequality during the late medieval period, it is probable that inequality generally rose across western Europe during the later medieval and early modern period, with the exception of the decades directly after the Black Death in the mid-fourteenth century. However, no single factor explains this incremental rise of inequality: the general trend had various causes, and historians have identified several factors that were at play, such as economic growth, demographic increase and urbanisation, the expansion of labour markets, and the nature of institutions.7 Of these, the presumed importance of political and economic institutions, and the underlying political power balance, as determinants of the distribution of wealth in society, deserve further examination.8



5 Jane Laughton, Evan Jones, and Christopher Dyer, ‘The Urban Hierarchy in the Later Middle Ages: A Study of the East Midlands’, Urban History, 28 (2001), 331–57. 6 E.g. Martha C. Howell, Women, Production, and Patriarchy in Late Medieval Cities (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009), pp. 66–67; Richard A. Goldthwaite, The Building of Renaissance Florence: An Economic and Social History (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980), pp. 60–61. 7 Guido Alfani and Wouter Ryckbosch, ‘Growing Apart in Early Modern Europe? A Comparison of Inequality Trends in Italy and the Low Countries, 1500–1800’, Explorations in Economic History, 62 (2016), 143–53. 8 Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson, ‘The Rise and Decline of General Laws of Capitalism’, Journal of Economic Perspectives, 29 (2015), 3–28.

urban hierarchies and the institutional fabric of late medieval european towns

In line with these historiographical developments, this chapter discusses the significance of urban corporate institutions in relation to the position of cities and towns in hierarchical urban systems and to the functional distribution of income. The differences between urban institutional arrangements are generally explained by referring to internal political relations, demographic size and socio-economic structures, but late medieval urban societies were not closed systems.9 Therefore, two issues are at stake here: first, to what extent were changes in the ranking of urban centres, i.e. their relative change in position vis-à-vis other nodes, due to factors endogenous to their network or region? Second, how did political or socio-economic changes within a city or town affect the urban networks they were part of, and how did changes in urban networks have an impact on the political and economic organisation of the constituting urban centres? In other words, it remains to be systematically analysed how urban hierarchies, and the changes within them, interacted with the political and socio-economic organisation of cities and towns. Hence, this chapter raises the question of how the relative ranking of a particular city or town was interrelated with its internal political institutions and socio-economic structures, and it considers how the urban institutional fabric absorbed the dynamics of urban hierarchies. Taking England and the Low Countries as case studies, the corporate structures in Ghent, Leiden, London and Norwich are first analysed by examining the possible endogenous factors that account for changes in the political, economic and social roles of guilds in these communities. The second part of the chapter explores to what extent these changes can be attributed to the towns’ hierarchical ranking and/or position in the wider urban networks. As such, it will be tentatively explored if specific urban corporate arrangements produced differences in the distribution of resources in these late medieval cities and towns. 1. Urban networks and hierarchies Urban settlements emerged about the same time in England and the Low Countries during the central Middle Ages. At the beginning of the fourteenth century, the overall urbanisation rate fluctuated around twenty per cent on both sides of the Channel. However, whereas cities and small towns were more or less equally spread across England, the Low Countries experienced very different patterns of urbanisation. In the southern parts, Artois and Flanders, up to thirty per cent of the population lived in cities and towns by the end of the thirteenth century, while the coastal regions of Holland and Zeeland experienced rapid urbanisation from the mid-fourteenth century onwards, reaching exceptional levels of 45 to fifty per cent.10 But the size and number of cities and towns, factors

9 Stephan R. Epstein, Freedom and Growth: The Rise of States and Markets in Europe, 1300–1750 (London; New York: Routledge, 2000), pp. 103–05. 10 Bas J.P. van Bavel, Manors and Markets: Economy and Society in the Low Countries, 500–1600 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), pp. 278–82; Christopher Dyer, ‘How Urbanized was Medieval

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which determine the degree of urbanisation, do not tell us much about the ways in which they were connected to each other. In Flanders, a polynuclear urban system emerged as early as in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, with Bruges, Ghent and Ypres as leading major cities that were connected to sizeable second-tier administrative, commercial and industrial towns, and smaller market and port towns such as Oudenaarde, Aalst, Sluis or Nieuwpoort. Ghent was primarily an industrial city counting 64,000 inhabitants in the early fourteenth century, making it the largest, and second wealthiest after Bruges, in the county; it succeeded in maintaining its political and economic dominance over its hinterland during periods of de-urbanisation in the later Middle Ages.11 In Holland, by contrast, an urban system that gradually developed from the second half of the fourteenth century onwards was characterised by several closely situated towns of moderate size. Leiden’s population, for instance, grew from about 4,000 inhabitants around 1350 to 12,000 inhabitants in 1498. Although a certain degree of functional economic specialisation among the six major Dutch towns – Leiden, for example, developed an important textile industry – emerged, the region’s urban system remained polycentric and relatively un-hierarchical until Amsterdam grew to prominence in the sixteenth century.12 Even though not all towns in Flanders and Holland were integrated into a single regional urban network to the same degree (hierarchy in neither of the regions corresponded closely to the ideal rank-size rule), it was the case that the political, economic, social and cultural characteristics of the cities and towns were shaped by their mutual interactions. In fact, the dynamics of these interactions, along with the wider political and economic conditions, produced multiple, often overlapping, networks and hierarchies. The urban way of living also extended beyond the town walls, because it affected the rural economy and created multiple ties with the countryside.13 The distribution of urban settlements in England was nowhere as dense as in the coastal regions of the Low Countries, and, consequently, the greater English cities and towns were not integrated into networks to the same degree, as relations between towns and country were mostly local.14 The commercial England?’, in Peasants and Townsmen in Medieval Europe. Studia in Honorem Adriaan Verhulst, ed. by J.–M. Duvosquel and E. Thoen (Ghent: Snoeck-Ducaju & Zoon, 1995), pp. 169–83. 11 Stabel, Dwarfs among Giants, pp. 262–69; Peter Stabel, ‘Composition et recomposition des réseaux urbains des Pays-Bas au Moyen Âge’, in Villes de Flandre et d’Italie (xiiie-xvie siècle). Les enseignements d’une comparaison, ed. by Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan and Élodie Lecuppre-Desjardin (Turnhout: Brepols), pp. 29–63 (pp. 35–39). 12 Wim Blockmans, ‘The Economic Expansion of Holland and Zeeland in the Fourteenth-Sixteenth Centuries’, in Studia Historica Œconomica. Liber Amicorum Herman Van der Wee, ed. by Erik Aerts and others (Louvain: Leuven University Press, 1993), pp. 41–58 (p. 44); Peter C.M. Hoppenbrouwers, ‘Town and Country in Holland, 1300–1550’, in Town and Country in Europe, 1300–1800, ed. by Stephen R. Epstein (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001) pp. 54–79 (pp. 60–64). 13 Cf. Bas J. P. van Bavel, ‘The Medieval Origins of Capitalism in the Netherlands’, Bijdragen en Mededelingen betreffende de Geschiedenis der Nederlanden, 125 (2010), 45–80 (p. 49). 14 James A. Galloway, ‘Urban Hinterlands in Later Medieval England’, in Town and Country in the Middle Ages: Contrasts, Contacts and Interconnections, 1100–1500, ed. by Katherine Giles and Christopher Dyer (Leeds: Maney Publishing, 2005), pp. 111–30. For an overview, see Jennifer Kermode,

urban hierarchies and the institutional fabric of late medieval european towns

connections between London and the other greater towns grew in importance from the late fourteenth century onwards. London’s demand for labour and products most clearly impacted the city’s direct hinterland, thereby stimulating specialisation among small towns, while inhibiting their further development at the same time, as it fulfilled the possible administrative and commercial roles they could potentially play. London’s economic impact was ‘selective and concentrated at nodal points in an extensive network’, but its political, administrative and cultural influence was felt even further away.15 Norwich became England’s second largest and wealthiest city in the later Middle Ages, yet a sharp decline in Norwich’s population after the Black Death meant that its estimated 11,000 inhabitants in 1524 barely equalled a sixth of London’s population of 70,000–80,000 inhabitants in the first half of the sixteenth century. Nonetheless, the Norfolk town was an important regional hub that performed political, cultural and religious functions for its immediate hinterland and for East Anglia in general; it also had access to commercial networks over land and water to London, and to other towns in England and on the Continent. At the end of the thirteenth century, the town counted at least twice as many inhabitants than it had in the early sixteenth century, implying that Norwich’s demand for people and agricultural products was clearly affecting its hinterland at this point in time. The town also connected the surrounding places and rural area to wider trade networks. From the mid-fourteenth century onwards, for example, textile production (worsted cloth) became the most important export product for Norwich and its region.16 Both London and Norwich were part of several different networks, thereby operating as gateways that connected their immediate surroundings to larger flows of people, goods and information. To a varying degree they also were central places that provided non-economic services to a wider region, but it would be too strong to argue that England’s late medieval cities and towns formed a functional hierarchy, since the urban network was made up of rather loosely connected and distant urban centres.17 In other words, the ties between these cities and towns were not yet so intricate that a change in the position of ‘The Greater Towns 1300–1540’, in The Cambridge Urban History of Britain, ed. by D. M. Palliser (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), i, pp. 441–66. 15 Derek J. Keene, ‘Small Towns and the Metropolis: The Experience of Medieval England’, in Peasants and Townsmen in Medieval Europe. Studia in Honorem Adriaan Verhulst, ed. by Jean-Marie Duvosquel and Erik Thoen (Gent: Snoeck-Ducaju & Zoon, 1995), pp. 223–38 (quote at p. 238); Richard Goddard, Credit and Trade in Later Medieval England, 1353–1532 (London: Palgrave MacMillan, 2016), pp. 195–242. 16 Penelope Dunn, ‘Trade’, in Medieval Norwich, ed. by Carole Rawcliffe and Richard Wilson (London: Hambledon Press, 2004), pp. 213–34; Pamela Nightingale, ‘Norwich, London, and the regional integration of Norfolk’s economy in the first half of the fourteenth century’, in Trade, Urban Hinterlands and Market Integration c.1300–1600, ed. James A. Galloway (London: Centre for Metropolitan History, 2000), pp. 83–101. 17 Richard W. Unger, ‘Thresholds for Market Integration in the Low Countries and England in the Fifteenth Century’, in Money, Markets and Trade in Late Medieval Europe: Essays in Honour of John H.A. Munro, ed. by Lawrin Armstrong, Ivan Elbl, and Martin M. Elbl (Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2007), pp. 349–80; and cf. Epstein, Freedom and Growth, p. 63.

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one urban centre would clearly affect the position of other centres within the network.18 In comparison, the spatial configuration of the cities and towns in Flanders and Holland differed due to the higher density of settlements, resulting in more specialisation among them, although a (far from perfect) hierarchy can only be discerned in the case of Flanders.19 In sum, the political, economic, social and cultural characteristics of these cities and towns were not just determined by contextual factors, nor by broader and more distant political or socio-economic developments, but were also shaped by the dynamics created by their mutual interactions. It is in the latter sense that one can speak about a proper urban system. The differences between England and the Low Countries, as well as between Flanders and Holland, highlight the ways in which geographical factors, political constellations, social and economic structures, and the chronology of development could result in regionally distinct urban systems. 2. Urban corporate institutions During the later medieval period, the cities of Ghent, London, Leiden and Norwich succeeded in maintaining or perhaps even improving their position vis-à-vis other neighbouring urban centres, despite being confronted with similar political, economic and demographic developments. With the exception of Leiden, for example, all towns experienced a sharp population decline during the second half of the fourteenth century and a slow demographic recovery in the following century. It would seem that such exogenous shocks affected each urban centre differently. The question, then, is whether it can be demonstrated how the internal political and socio-economic organisation and institutions of one urban centre mattered in this respect, and, as such, either advanced or hampered that centre’s competitiveness within a region or network. This question will be explored here by looking into more detail at the corporate structures of the four case studies, and, more specifically, the role of guilds as corporate institutions.20 In order to move beyond the correct observation that the number of guilds in a particular town indicates its degree of economic specialisation (which co-determined its rank in the urban hierarchy of a certain region), it is also necessary to ascertain to what extent these institutions could adapt to changing political and economic conditions. In other words, did guilds as institutions

18 For this definition, see: Clé M. Lesger, ‘Urban Systems and Economic Development in Holland during the later Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period’, in Material Culture: Consumption, Life-style, Standard of Living, 1500–1900. Proceedings of the Eleventh International Economic History Congress, Milan, ed. by Anton Schuurman and Lorena Seebach Walsh (Milan, 1994), pp. 69–79. 19 Stabel, Dwarfs among Giants, pp. 79–80. 20 C.f. Gelderblom’s argument about urban competition as the main driver of institutional adaptation and innovation to attract international trade in the Low Countries: Oscar Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce: The Institutional Foundations of International Trade in the Low Countries, 1250–1650 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2013).

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function as a variable that explains (changes in) the position of a particular city or town in the urban hierarchy? For the period in question it is difficult to measure endogenously induced institutional change, which can be assumed to have been slow and incremental, but the guilds’ political influence and role in the urban economy can be certainly examined.21 Voluntary associations of traders and artisans were a defining part of the institutional arrangements in all four cities, but there were significant differences in terms of the (formal and informal) political power the guilds achieved, which depended on local political relations and economic organisation.22 In Ghent, for example, the guilds (ambachten) gained a formal say in the city’s government during the first half of the fourteenth century. The economically dominant Weavers’ guild boasted a sizeable membership and was eventually able to translate its position into significant political leverage.23 Ten seats on Ghent’s two benches of aldermen were reserved for members of the Weavers’ guild from 1361 onwards; the representatives of the 53 lesser guilds shared another ten seats, and the remaining six seats were allocated to the landed citizenry (the poorterij). This constitutional framework struck a balance of power between the most important political groups or ‘members’ of the city; it functioned, with one brief suspension in the third quarter of the fifteenth century, until 1540, when the political privileges of the guilds were curtailed as a punishment for their involvement in a rebellion against the city’s lord.24 The London guilds – or companies as they were later called – never achieved a similar position where they could elect their own members directly to represent them in the city’s government, but the major guilds exerted considerable political influence from at least the late thirteenth century onwards, and they became deeply involved in administrative and electoral matters. For instance, all mayors and aldermen of London were guild members in the later medieval period, and in 1467 the guild wardens or masters joined the members of the

21 Institutions are understood here as ‘nested’ within a complex and open environment, characterised by a variety of interconnected or competing institutions, situated at different levels, that adapt to each other. The interactions between institutions and their environment mean that both are constantly changing, leading to processes of both exogenous and endogenous change, which are sometimes the result of rapid punctuation and sometimes of gradual adaptation; see: Mark Blyth and others, ‘Introduction to the Special Issue on the Evolution of Institutions’, Journal of Institutional Economics, 7 (2011), 299–315 (pp. 309–10); and for methodological issue of measurement: Philip Rocco and Chloe Thurston, ‘From Metaphors to Measures: Observable Indicators of Gradual Institutional Change’, Journal of Public Policy, 34 (2014), 35–62. 22 Arie van Steensel, ‘Guilds and Politics in Medieval Urban Europe. Towards a Comparative Institutional Analysis’, in Craftsmen and Guilds in the Medieval and Early Modern Periods, ed. by Eva Jullien and Michel Pauly (Stuttgart: Steiner Verlag, 2016), pp. 37–56. 23 Up to 64 per cent of Ghent’s population depended on the textile industry in the early fifteenth century; Walter Prevenier, ‘La démographie des villes du comté de Flandre aux xiiie et xve siècles. Etat de la question. Essai d’interprétation’, Revue du Nord, 65 (1983), 255–75 (pp. 259–60). The weavers gained the political upper hand in 1361 at the expense of the fullers; David Nicholas, The Metamorphosis of a Medieval City: Ghent in the Age of the Arteveldes, 1302–1390 (Leiden: Brill, 1987), pp. 7–8, 156–57. 24 Marc Boone, Gent en de Bourgondische hertogen, ca. 1384–ca. 1453. Een sociaal-politieke studie van een staatsvormingsproces (Brussels: AWLSK, 1990), pp. 36–39, 48, 52.

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Common Council to elect the city’s officials.25 The wealthier trade guilds were more successful than their artisan counterparts in obtaining the office of mayor, resulting in tensions between, for example, the Drapers and the Tailors in the second quarter of the fifteenth century.26 Yet the guilds’ involvement in London’s politics and administration never became ossified. The political power of the London corporations to a certain extent reflected their changing economic fortunes, whereas the urban guild system in Ghent remained unaltered throughout the later Middle Ages, despite structural shifts in the city’s economy. Occupational groupings in Norwich and Leiden initially faced prohibition by the king and count respectively on the instigation of the towns’ ruling elites. Traders and artisans were free to organise themselves collectively in the English town in the fourteenth century, but the town council kept a strict supervisory role, and the guilds or crafts played no part in governance or electoral procedures. This, however, did not mean that guild members were not elected as mayor, sheriffs or aldermen, although these offices were generally taken by the wealthier mercers, grocers and drapers. Until the end of the fifteenth century, artisans had little chance of being elected as aldermen.27 The urban ruling elite in Leiden (mostly comprising merchants and entrepreneurs from the textile sector, who were joined by the brewers from the late fifteenth century onwards) managed to prevent the numerous closed religious confraternities of traders and artisans – known as ambachten – from developing into politically active associations, and the guilds limited themselves to economic, social and religious activities in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. But the fact that they were not formally represented in the urban councils did not mean that guildsmen had no other ways to voice their concerns in political matters, or that the town council could ignore the interests of the guilds.28 The role of guilds in the urban political economy varied from place to place, depending to a large extent on the time and context in which they emerged, and in particular on whether the balance of power in this period tipped in favour of merchant entrepreneurs or master artisans, thereby enabling either of them 25 Caroline M. Barron, London in the Later Middle Ages. Government and People, 1200–1500 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), pp. 148–51; Matthew Davies, ‘Crown, City and Guild in Late Medieval London’, in London and Beyond. Essays in Honour of Derek Keene, ed. by Matthew Davies and J.A. Galloway (London: Institute of Historical Research, 2012), pp. 241–61. 26 Caroline M. Barron, ‘Ralph Holland and the London Radicals, 1438–1444’, in The English Medieval Town. A Reader in English Urban History, 1200–1540, ed. by Richard Holt and Gervase Rosser (London: Longman, 1990), pp. 160–83. 27 Ruth Frost, ‘The Urban Elite’, in Medieval Norwich, ed. by Carole Rawcliffe and Richard Wilson (London: Hambledon Press, 2004), pp. 235–54 (pp. 239–40); cf. Dana Durkee, ‘A Cursus for Craftsmen? Career-Cycles of the Worsted Weavers of late-Medieval Norwich’, in Cities and Solidarities: Urban Communities in Pre-Modern Europe, ed. by Justin Colson and Arie van Steensel (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2017), pp. 151–68. 28 Hanno Brand, Over macht en overwicht: stedelijke elites in Leiden (1420–1510) (Leuven; Apeldoorn: Garant, 1996), pp. 117, 175. See, for an overview for the Low Countries: Maarten R. Prak, ‘Corporate Politics in the Low Countries. Guilds as Institutions, 14th to 18th Centuries’, in Craft Guilds in the Early Modern Low Countries. Work, Power and Representation, ed. by Maarten R. Prak, Catharina Lis, Jan Lucassen, and Hugo Soly (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006), pp. 74–106.

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to develop economic strategies to cope with changing political and economic circumstances.29 Merchants and entrepreneurs dominated the governments of London, Norwich and Leiden, and the guilds’ direct political influence and the artisans’ political say were especially limited in the two smaller towns. In Ghent, however, the wealthier masters of the guilds connected to the textile industry had a strong grip on the city’s administration. Still, based on this selection of case studies alone, it would be difficult to argue persuasively that the political participation of guilds or guildsmen, or the lack thereof, gave these cities an edge over other urban centres when it came to adapting to changing market conditions. In all cases, the largely independent urban authorities did take measures to protect the urban economy in times of hardship or in the face of competition, for instance, by supporting certain industries, by granting guilds specific rights, or by securing privileges from higher authorities. But, despite a general concern about employment and increasing wages, the overlap between the political and economic elites meant that urban governments also aimed at maintaining the internal economic balance of power.30 It is fair to assume that a representation of guild interests in political decision-making had an impact on the economic regulations and efforts made by the authorities, but a further examination of urban economic policies is required to clarify this issue satisfactorily.31 In the case of Ghent, the master drapers and weavers who gained access to political power in the first half of the fourteenth century were the same men who profited from the changes in the urban textile industry, which was transformed from an industry producing a range of quality products into one that was focused on the international market for luxury cloth (and in which two-thirds of the working population was employed at the end of the fourteenth century). But the textile industry struggled from the mid-fourteenth century onwards, despite the political leverage of the Weavers’ guild. The city mainly took advantage of the benefits gained from diversifying its economy and became an important regional market, thereby profiting from the grain staple that was established in Ghent by 1323.32 As such, the Flemish city strengthened its position within the urban hierarchy; but it is not especially clear whether this can be attributed to

29 Hugo Soly, ‘The Political Economy of European Craft Guilds: Power Relations and Economic Strategies of Merchants and Master Artisans in the Medieval and Early Modern Textile Industries’, International Review of Social History, 53, Supplement S16 (2008), 45–71. 30 Peter Stabel, ‘Guilds in Late Medieval Flanders: Myths and Realities of Guild Life in an ExportOriented Environment’, Journal of Medieval History, 30 (2004), 187–212 (pp. 196–98). 31 Cf. Heather Swanson, ‘The Illusion of Economic Structure: Craft Guilds in Late Medieval English Towns’, Past & Present, 121 (1988), 29–48 (p. 47): ‘Craft guilds of artisans were agents of the city council and could themselves have no independent power, given the economic dominance of the mercantile élites. Their role as representatives of the commonalty was to approve aldermanic decisions, a public-relations exercise.’ See, for ideas about the economic responsibilities of authorities and guilds: Jan Dumolyn, ‘“Our Land Is Only Founded on Trade and Industry.” Economic Discourses in Fifteenth-Century Bruges’, Journal of Medieval History, 36 (2010), 374–89. 32 Stabel, Dwarfs among Giants, pp. 150–56.

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the political prominence of its guilds or to the advantages of the pre-existing dominance of Ghent.33 In Leiden, the cloth industry was also the main force behind the town’s demographic and economic growth from the mid-fourteenth to the late fifteenth century. With the support of Leiden’s magistracy, the drapers focused on the production of high-quality cloth, and managed to gain access to an international market. These entrepreneurs were also actively involved in the political decision-making regarding the industry, and they supported the town council in preventing artisans and labourers from organising themselves into guilds that could develop into political pressure groups. Due to its importance, Leiden’s economic policy was mostly aimed at protecting the cloth industry, for example by ensuring the quality of the products and by fending off competition from other towns in Holland. Nonetheless, the coalition of the magistrates and ‘industrial capitalists’ could not forestall the decline of the industry that occurred in the late fifteenth century.34 Commercial activities were the most important source of income for the inhabitants of late medieval Norwich, which was ruled by a mercantile elite. In the two centuries after the Black Death, the town developed an important textile industry, particularly as a centre for the manufacture and distribution of worsted cloth. The success of this industry saved Norwich from the economic contraction experienced by, for example, neighbouring York in the fifteenth century. The Norwich merchants active in the trade in cloth were well-represented in the town government, where the policies reflected the interests of the worsted industry. The Worsted Weavers’ guild played an important role in organising the industry, and several of its members served the town as mayors, sheriffs, aldermen or common councillors in the fifteenth century.35 The artisans were clearly not denied a voice in urban politics and, as such, on the town’s economic policies, even though the wealthier merchants maintained a strong grip on power. Finally, London’s economy was very diverse, ranging from international trade to specialised service industries, and therefore more resilient to economic downturns. It became the most important port for the export of wool in the fourteenth century and achieved an almost complete monopoly on the export of cloth in the following century. Unsurprising, the city’s offices were dominated by members of the companies of the drapers, mercers and vintners. Yet, London was also an important centre of manufacturing and services, and most of the

33 Marc Boone, ‘L’industrie textile à Gand au bas moyen âge ou les résurrections successives d’une activité réputée moribonde’, in La draperie ancienne des Pays-Bas: débouchés et stratégies de survie (14e–16e siècles), ed. by Marc Boone and Walter Prevenier (Leuven; Apeldoorn: Garant), pp. 15–62 (pp. 38–44). 34 H. Brand, ‘Urban Policy or Personal Government. The Involvement of the Urban Elite in the Economy of Leiden at the End of the Middle Ages’, in Economic Policy since the Late Middle Ages. The Visible Hand and the Fortune of Cities, ed. by Herman Diederiks, Paul M. Hohenberg, and Michael Wagenaar (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1992), pp. 17–35. 35 Dunn, ‘Trade’, pp. 214–17; Frost, ‘The Urban Elite’, pp. 251–52; John Oldland, ‘“Fyne Worsted Whech Is Almost like Silke”: Norwich’s Double Worsted’, Textile History, 42 (2011), 181–99.

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associations of artisans and victuallers were represented in the common council. The competition between the rival trades and crafts, as for example between the Mercers and the Tailors in the second quarter of the fifteenth century, caused political conflicts as these occupational groups pursued political power. As a result, the government of London became deeply entwined with the city’s corporate structures.36 Since guild representation in London did not become fixed, as for example in Ghent, the balance of power between the companies more clearly reflected the dynamic nature of their economic leverage. Not surprisingly, the wealthiest groups in late medieval cities and towns were able to exert strong political pressure to achieve their economic goals, and they were more often merchants than artisans organised into guilds. The precise institutional arrangements that channelled the different political voices and economic interests varied from place to place, as they developed along path-dependent trajectories and mirrored the specific balance of power within the city walls. It is more important to underline the fact that important segments of the urban population could both directly and indirectly influence a city’s policies and responses to changing political and economic conditions,37 and, as such, its position in the wider urban hierarchy or network. It is in this sense that corporate institutions – i.e. guilds – mattered, but whether the outcomes of the city’s strategies were favourable to the urban economy or to specific economic interests depended on more than just one variable. 3. The distribution of income and wealth The causes and consequences of economic inequality are a second topic that is subject to debate by historians and other scholars. Recently, Piketty argued that the return to capital is generally higher than to economic growth, leading to a capital-driven increase in wealth inequality in the long run. This theory of inequality, however, was criticised by Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson for failing to acknowledge the impact of political and economic institutions on the distribution of resources.38 This debate has an important historical dimension, making it necessary for historians to revisit the question of long-term trends in the accumulation and distribution of wealth and income. The explanations for growing economic inequality offered by Lee Soltow and Jan Luiten van Zanden in their seminal study on economic inequality in the Netherlands, that economic growth furthered inequality through processes 36 Caroline M. Barron, ‘London, 1300–1540’, in The Cambridge Urban History of Britain, ed. by D. M. Palliser (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), I, pp. 395–440; Goddard, Credit and Trade, pp. 195–212; Matthew Davies, ‘Artisans, Guilds and Government in London’, in Daily Life in the Late Middle Ages, ed. by Richard Britnell (Stroud: Sutton, 1998), pp. 125–50. 37 In this respect, an analysis of the petitions of the guilds in the London Letterbooks and the Norwich Assembly Books would give some idea of their interactions with the urban authorities. 38 Thomas Piketty, Le capital au xxie siècle (Paris: Le Seuil, 2013); Acemoglu and Robinson, ‘The Rise and Decline’, pp. 20–24.

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of urbanisation, increases in the skill premium, and changes in the functional distribution of income, have recently been questioned by Guido Alfani and Wouter Ryckbosch.39 They reconstructed the long-term trends in the development of economic inequality in pre-modern Europe on the basis of fiscal records, and their findings suggest that the distribution of wealth and income increased incrementally in times of both economic growth and stagnation, with the exception of the decades following the Black Death, in both Italian regions and the Low Countries. The fact that the increase was steeper in Italy, where economic growth was slower, rules out economic performance (i.e. the supply of labour, the price of capital wealth, market extension and redistribution mechanisms), inheritance systems and household structures as possible variables, suggesting instead that explanations for long-term trends in economic inequality should focus on political institutions and fiscal systems.40 In addition, Jord Hanus has demonstrated that long-term trends in economic inequality should be contextualised properly – thereby taking more social and economic factors into account, such as relative prices and household composition – in order to explain ‘real inequality’.41 Finally, Ryckbosch stresses in another study that the growing inequality in the cities and towns of the early modern Low Countries was ‘the result of institutional changes at the detriment of laborers and the growing share of noncapital owners in the European population’.42 By the turn of the sixteenth century guilds would have become less well-placed to protect the interests of their members (i.e. labour), while the central state increasingly protected individual property rights (i.e. capital). Thus, institutional factors favoured capital over labour during the early modern period, and this partly explains the incremental increase of economic inequality. In other words, economic historians still have a long way to go to understand the long- and short-term causes and effects of wealth and income inequality, particularly during periods when the distribution of resources appear to have been relatively stable. In order to get a more nuanced picture of the long-term developments, it might be helpful to make more systematic comparisons between cities and towns (more wealth accumulation and larger population size seem to have led to greater inequality), as well as to contextualise the data on economic inequality more systematically. This would allow us to further scrutinise assumptions that have been made about the causes and consequences of the incremental increase of income and wealth inequality in pre-modern Europe. First of all, places whose economic structure was largely shaped by (textile) industries 39 Lee Soltow and Jan Luiten van Zanden, Income and Wealth Inequality in the Netherlands, 16th–20th Century (Amsterdam: Transaction Publishers, 1998); Alfani and Ryckbosch, ‘Growing Apart in Early Modern Europe?’, pp. 143–53. 40 Alfani and Rykbosch, ‘Growing Apart in Early Modern Europe?’, pp. 151–52. 41 Jord Hanus, ‘Real Inequality in the Early Modern Low Countries: The City of ’s-Hertogenbosch, 1500–1660’, The Economic History Review, 66 (2013), 733–56. 42 Wouter Ryckbosch, ‘Economic Inequality and Growth before the Industrial Revolution: The Case of the Low Countries (Fourteenth to Nineteenth Centuries)’, European Review of Economic History, 20 (2016), 1–22 (p. 17).

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(and, consequently, which had a large share of unskilled labourers working in low-wage sectors)43 are thought to have had a more skewed distribution of income and wealth compared to cities and towns where commercial activities resulted in the formation of strong middling groups comprising artisans and traders. Secondly, political and economic institutions – in particular, guilds protecting the interests of labour – may have had a significant impact on the redistribution of income in the late medieval and early modern urban economy.44 Hence, economic inequality was closely linked to the position and functions of an urban centre in its network, and to the related economic organisation and institutional framework. Based on the records available for the later medieval period, it is quite a challenge to reconstruct the long-term development of income inequality in medieval and early modern Europe. Extrapolations are generally made using data on the distribution of wealth about which more reliable information can be gleaned from the available records, for example fiscal sources listing the rental value of houses or for assessing household wealth. These sources, however, pose specific problems of interpretation (such as tax evasion and assessment criteria) and the resulting data are not easy to compare due to differences in tax base or detail. This will be illustrated in the following section, which tentatively explores the possible effects that guilds as economic institutions had on the distribution of income and wealth in late-medieval Leiden and Norwich. For both towns, a series of fifteenth- and sixteenth-century fiscal records have been preserved that have been previously analysed by historians working on economic inequality, socio-economic geography, or occupational structures.45 It is therefore not necessary to go into detail on the backgrounds of these sources. The first complete tax roll of Leiden dates fom 1498, when a one per cent wealth tax was levied by the town council on all inhabitants in order to alleviate the financial crisis that had hit the Dutch city due to mismanagement and political unrest. The source records the names of 553 heads of households (18.4 per cent of the total number of 3.010 assessed households) who were exempted from payment because of their poverty, which is exceptional for this source type in general. Furthermore, a sizable second group of 330 households was not, or was

43 In Leiden, for example, the richest ten percent held 74 per cent of the wealth in 1498, while in 1584 Ghent this percentage was 69 per cent; Johan Dambruyne, Corporatieve middengroepen: aspiraties, relaties en transformaties in de 16e-eeuwse Gentse ambachtswereld (Ghent: Academia Press, 2002), p. 421. 44 Ryckbosch, ‘Economic Inequality’, p. 15. 45 Maureen Jurkowski, ‘Income Tax Assessments of Norwich, 1472 and 1489’, in Poverty and Wealth. Sheep, Taxation and Charity in Late Medieval Norfolk (Norwich: Norfolk Record Society, 2007), pp. 99–156; J. F. Pound, ‘The Social and Trade Structure of Norwich 1525–1575’, Past & Present, 34 (1966), 49–69; Dirk Jaap Noordam, ‘Leiden in last. De financiële positie van de Leidenaren aan het einde van de Middeleeuwen’, Jaarboek der Sociale en Economische Geschiedenis van Leiden en Omstreken, 13 (2002), 16–40; Soltow and Zanden, Income and Wealth Inequality, pp. 33–47; Tim Bisschops, ‘Ruimtelijke vermogensverhoudingen in Leiden (1438–1561): Een pleidooi voor een perceelsgewijze analyse van steden en stedelijke samenlevingen in de Lage Landen’, Stadsgeschiedenis, 2 (2007), 121–38.

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a r i e va n steen sel Table 1. Distribution of wealth among the households of late medieval Leiden and Norwich

Ponden Poor 0,1–24 25–99 100–999 1000–4999 ≥ 5000 Total

Leiden, 1498 N % 883 29.4 762 25.3 236 7.9 886 29.4 215 7.1 28 0.9 3.010

100

Pounds Poor