Christianity and War in Medieval East Central Europe and Scandinavia

Abstract

Medieval Christianity and medieval warfare have been intensively researched in various aspects, but the intersection of these fields of scholarship, not limited to the Crusades, deserves more attention, especially for the regions less known, such as those dealt with in this collection of studies. The editors emphasize that the general purpose of the volume is to advance “from the prevailing crusade-centrism in favour of questions on the influence of Christianity and the Church on the culture of war” (p. 9), an influence that “was not merely superficial but had a fundamental significance and expressed itself in a specific culturally advanced form” (p. 16). The book is divided into two large themes, the church and the war, and religion in war and its cultural expressions.“The Role of the Dalmatian Bishops and Archbishops in Warfare During the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries: A Case Study on the Archbishops of Split,” by Judit Gál (pp. 25–38), examines the consequences of the extension of the Hungarian rule in Dalmatia in 1097 for the religious and secular status of these hierarchs, who, before that, were already taking part in administration and diplomacy. The archbishops of Split became the representatives of the Hungarian kings in the autonomous Dalmatia. Actually, most of them were Hungarian noblemen from rich families with military backgrounds. One such person was Ugrin (1244–1248), from the Csák family, who fought in the battle of Muhi before the appointment. Like the high clergy from Hungary, the archbishoprics of Split were occasionally involved in military affairs. The same Ugrin was elected comes of the city at the request of King Bela IV, and so he became responsible for its defense. “The Thirteenth-Century Hungarian Prelates at War,” by Gábor Barabás (pp. 39–56), gives another perspective on the military involvement of the clergy, which in Hungary was particularly large in that period, not only as peacemakers. The author remembers the participation of bishops and priests at the Fifth Crusade, but his major contribution concerns the effects of the Mongol invasion for the church and the role of the clergy in the recovery of the kingdom after 1242 (for instance, they participated in the building of the new stone fortifications). The firsthand testimony of Roger of Apulia and other sources show how the bishops and priests had no restraint in using weapons not only in wars but also for personal interests. If Ugrin, a kind of “warrior bishop,” was one of the commanders who tried to stop the Mongols at Muhi, other bishops were involved in the civil wars that ravaged the kingdom at the end of the Arpadian period. The last part of the study concerns the fight against the heretics from Bosnia. The involvement of the clergy in warfare in Livonia and Finland is studied by Sini Kangas (“The Image of ‘Warrior-Bishops’ in the Northern Tradition of the Crusades,” pp. 57–73). She concludes that it is not clear if the bishops and priests killed enemies themselves (as in the Crusades against the Muslims) or whether their presence in the combat field during the Baltic Crusades starting in 1198 was limited to making decisions and offering moral support. It is, however, certain that these priests and bishops had military training because they came from knightly families. A different situation is presented by Jacek Maciejewski (“Memory of the ‘Warrior- Bishops’ of Płock in the Writings of Jan Długosz,” pp. 75–95). In Mazovia, the bishops of Płock were constantly involved in military actions against the heathen Prussians, as noted in a source used by Jan Długosz in Vitae Episcoporum Plocensium (1478). One of them, Gunter (1227–1232), even received permission from the duke of Mazovia to build fortresses in his eparchy (he also had the idea of bringing the Teutonic Order there). He is presented by Długosz as a true commander in the fight against the Prussians. The constant danger on this borderland of the Christianitas explains this military activity of the Płock bishops. The same Baltic region is studied by Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen (“Preachers of War: Dominican Friars as Promoters of the Crusades in the Baltic Region in the Thirteenth Century,” pp. 97–115). Because the preaching of the crusade was the main mission of the Dominicans, they were largely involved in the Baltic regions, which still had pagan or heretic populations. The Dominicans acted in conjunction with the Teutonic Order and helped the Scandinavian kings in their wars against the heathens and schismatics in Finland and Estonia (the Baltic Crusades of 1238–1242). The Dominicans from the Baltic provinces were also involved in the preaching for crusades to the Holy Land in 1263, 1265, 1274, and 1291 and in collecting the financial redemptions of crusade vows. Martin Wangsgaard Jürgensen, in “Depictions of Violence in Late Romanesque Mural Paintings in Denmark” (pp. 117–138), shows that the series of paintings (badly preserved) representing the martyrdom of Thomas Becket from the church of Sønder Nærå dated around 1200 were made with the purpose of emphasizing the ecclesiastic authority. Other late Romanesque churches with warfare representations exist at Aal, Hornslet, and Skibet. The author demonstrates that such images were intended to induce in the rural population the idea that they have “to seek Christ through energetic engagement with the world and not only through inward prayer and meditation” (p. 130) and that the church has supremacy over secular power.The second part of the volume opens with Dušan Zupka’s study “Religious Rituals of War in Medieval Hungary under the Árpád Dynasty” (pp. 141–157). Following the concept of “liturgy of war” introduced by Michael McCormick, he shows that such rituals had existed in Hungary even since the reign of Saint Stephen, as can be seen from his collection of advices for his heir Emeric. Other sources reveal the Christian fervor of the founding king and that his victories were supported by divine help. In the following two centuries, public prayers, blessings given by bishops, penitential processions, prayers to the sanctified Hungarian kings, and other forms of devotion are recorded in relation to military events. For instance, before the battle of Leitha (1146) against the Margrave of Austria, Henry Jasomirgott, the young King Geza II was blessed in a wooden church by a bishop and received a sword that symbolized the transition to his position as adult ruler. This battle was one of the first where the presence of the priests is attested. The last part of the study concerns the Mongol invasion, which found unprepared the so-reputed invincible Hungarians. This disaster led the survivors to seek divine support and ask for military help from the Christian kingdoms. Radosław Kotecki, in “Pious Rulers, Princely Clerics, and Angels of Light: ‘Imperial Holy War’ Imagery in Twelfth-Century Poland and Rus’” (pp. 159–188), deals with the intervention of Archangel Michael in the battles fought against the pagans by the Polish and Russian rulers, described in Chronica Polonorum by Master Vincentius and in Povest’ vremennykh let. The comparative study of the sources shows that the belief in angelic intervention in the battles was something held in common in the early medieval kingdoms. An oral tradition about a miracle (the appearance of an “angel of light”) occurred before a battle fought by Prince Bolesław III in 1109 against the Pomeranians was inserted by Vincentius in his narrative. More developed and clear are, instead, the accounts from the Russian chronicle about the angels who contributed to the victories against Polovtsi in 1111. Carsten Selch Jensen, in “Religion and War in Saxo Grammaticus’s Gesta Danorum: The Examples of Bishop Absalon and King Valdemar I” (pp. 189–206), shows how the campaigns against the Wends were considered by Saxo as a kind of crusade and that this chronicler, even if he was a canon, had a good knowledge of warfare elements. His Gesta Danorum provided a theological justification for the inner and external conflicts of King Valdemar I (1154–1182), who was assisted by the “warrior bishop” Absalon (1176–1201). David Kalhous and Ludmila Luňáková, in “Rhetoric of War: The Imagination of War in Medieval Written Sources (Central and Eastern Europe in the High Middle Ages)” (pp. 207–225), compare Chronica Boemorum, Gesta principum Polonorum, Povest’ vremennykh let, and Rerum gestarum Saxonicarum, concluding that for all these authors, the war was a legitimate part of the Christian life of their kingdoms, even if the clergy was usually against it. Bjørn Bandlien, in “Civil War as Holy War? Polyphonic Discourses of Warfare during the Internal Struggles in Norway in the Twelfth Century” (pp. 227–243), presents the different perceptions of warfare during the period of civil wars, when even some clerics took part in the battles. The idea of a holy war appeared after the First Crusade influenced the justification of the military actions, even in these cases of internal conflicts (according to Canones Nidrosienses, the just war could be fought against internal Christian enemies). Kristjan Kaljusaar, in “Martyrdom on the Field of Battle in Livonia during Thirteenth- Century Holy Wars and Christianization: Popular Belief and the Image of a Catholic Frontier” (pp. 245–262), studies the popular perception of martyrdom developed during the Crusades, and particularly in the Livonian Crusades, according to the Chronicle of Henry of Livonia and the Livonian Rhymed Chronicle. The papacy assumed in that period the monopoly of canonizations, but the common beliefs continued to equal death in the battle with martyrdom. Henry of Livonia attempted, without success, to advocate the sainthood of the second bishop of Livonia, Berthold, who was already worshipped as a martyr because he died fighting the pagans. The Rhymed Chronicle was addressed to potential crusaders to convince them to fight in Livonia as members of the Teutonic Order. In the end, no official martyrs died in the Livonian battlefields. Anti Selart, in “Orthodox Responses to the Baltic Crusades” (pp. 263–278), remembers the political uses of the debates around the western and eastern sources of Christianization in the Baltic countries and examines the expansion of the Novgorod principality in the Baltic using Russian and Latin sources. In this Russian expansion, contrary to the Latin one in the same region, the Orthodox Church had no initiative, and the baptisms performed were only a subsidiary effect of the conquests.