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Guitard the Black, a Catalan Slave Raider around the Year 1000

Thomas Freudenhammer, Independent Scholar (Berlin)

Abstract: This study examines the life and activities of Guitard the Black, a Catalan knight and slave trader active during the late 10th and early 11th centuries. Through the analysis of charters and wills, it reconstructs Guitard’s role in cross-border raids against Al-Andalus, his participation in the slave trade, and his economic actitivities. Guitard’s acquisition of a Saracen slave in exchange for land in 997 and his later will reveal the integration of slavery into the Catalan economy and society. His legacy illustrates the interconnectedness of warfare, trade, and social structures along the medieval Christian-Muslim frontier.

On 28th October 997, Count Ramon Borrell and Countess Ermessinda of Barcelona sold a large estate to a certain Guitard. This estate, a fiscal property of the counts (feum), was located in the county of Ausona, in Villardepol, a small town south of the episcopal city of Vic. The price was to be paid in kind, which in this case meant one horse, one Saracen (Sarrazino I) and some other unnamed goods. In addition, each of these items was assigned a monetary value: the horse was valued at ten pesas, the Saracen at three pesas and the unnamed goods at two silver pesas.1

With the word ‘Saracen’ (Sarrazino, or Sarraceno) charters in 10th and 11th-century Catalonia referred to the inhabitants of neighbouring Al-Andalus. In 985, members of the ‘Saracen people’ under their leader Almanzor had conquered and plundered the city of Barcelona, as recalled in some later documents.2 However, other documents of the time show the members of this ethnic group in a completely different situation. As we learn from several wills, Saracens could be bequeathed, sold or exchanged by their owners as any movable property. We can therefore regard these people as slaves, although they were never labelled servus or ancilla. These ‘classical’ Latin terms were only used for the ‘autochthonous’ Christian slaves which still existed at the time in Catalonia but who were gradually replaced by the ‘foreign’ Saracen slaves.3

Let’s return to the starting point. What do the prices mentioned in the deed of sale from 997 mean? At the turn of the 11th century, Catalonia had practically become part of the currency area of Al-Andalus. Andalusi gold dinars and silver dirhams circulated all over the country and were widely accepted as a means of payment. At the same time, a bimetallic unit of account, the pesa, was used for many transactions. Under this system, one pesa could be paid out in 14 dinars or in 100 dirhams or in a combination of both.4

In the present case, Guitard handed over a Saracen slave in payment for an estate instead of money. However, he appears to have been well aware of how much he would have earned by selling the Saracen on the slave market, namely three pesas or 42 dinars. As we can see from this, Guitard was obviously an experienced slave trader. But how did he come into the possession of the Saracens in the first place?

In our search for further documents about the slave trader Guitard, we must bear in mind that people in Catalonia at that time generally only had one name and that the name Guitard was very common.5 In our case, we are helped by the name of the estate that Guitard acquired from Count Ramon in 997: Villardepol. As this estate reappears under the name Vilar de Paulo in the will of a certain Guitard from 1013, we can clearly identify this testator with the slave raider of the same name.6

What do we learn from Guitard’s will? In 1013, Count Ramon Borrell and Countess Ermessinda prepared for a campaign against Al-Andalus, mobilizing all the forces of their country.7 Guitard also followed the call of his lords and went into battle, where he met his fate: he was pierced by a lance and killed.8 In his will, made shortly before the campaign, he mentioned horses and weapons that he was about to take with him into the counts’ army.9 However, the horses were hardly able to go into battle alone, somebody had to ride them. We can therefore conclude that Guitard had previously entrusted these horses, as well as the weapons, to a number of horsemen, who then formed a small troop of knights under his command. 

At the head of this force, Guitard was certainly in a position to carry out raids and kidnap people in the border region with Al-Andalus long before the campaign of 1013. It can therefore be assumed that the Saracen, whom Guitard handed over to Count Ramon in 997, had been captured by his own troop. We can therefore identify Guitard as a slave raider who, at the head of his own unit of knights, engaged in cross-border raids in the border region of Al-Andalus. Guitard will have sold most of the Saracens he captured, but he seems to have kept some of them for himself, as we will soon see. At the same time, he appears to have been involved in horse breeding, as he could supply his own troop with mounts and give Count Ramon a valuable warhorse worth ten pesas. We do not know where Guitard’s knights were stationed. In his will, he mentions some ‘towers’ (turres), small fortresses, which could have served as strongholds for his troop.

Guitard will not have been the only person to carry out attacks in the border region of Al-Andalus and these raids were certainly not without risks for the Catalan knights. The will of another knight named Guadamir, who died in 964, tells us that he wanted to ransom a ‘captured knight’ in exchange for a Saracen in his power.10 This knight had probably been kidnapped during one of the raids Guadamir had undertaken. We can conclude that the Saracens defended their country and also carried out cross-border raids during which they captured people. A particularly large number of people lost their freedom when Barcelona fell into the hands of the Andalusi ruler Almanzor in 985. As a general rule, Andalusi and Catalan captives could be exchanged on equal terms or released for ransom (redempcio). On both sides of the border, people endeavoured to secure the redemption of their loved ones. In Catalonia many wills of the time contain special legacies intended for the ransom of those captives.11

In one case, we learn something about the ransom process. At the end of his will, Guitard left the ‘ransom for my female Saracen captive’ as a legacy for St Peter’s in Rome.12 It can be surmised that the raider had kept this Saracen captive as a concubine for himself and wanted to sell her back to Al-Andalus before the war campaign.13 At any rate, we can assume that at the time of his will, Guitard had already released the Saracen woman and was now waiting for the ransom to be paid. The whole process was probably handled by special agents who travelled back and forth between Catalonia and Al-Andalus.14 Unfortunately, Guitard’s will does not tell us how much the ransom was.

Incidentally, we find a comparable scenario in the will of a certain knight Borrell from Vic from the year 970. Borrell bequeathed the priests of the church of Vic the sum of three pesas ‘that they owe me from Al-Andalus’, as he put it.15 Here, we learn the amount of money expected from Al-Andalus, but not the reason for the payment. As in Guitard’s case, it could have been the ransom for a Saracen slave, especially since three pesas seem to have made up the market value of a Saracen, as the deed of 997 shows. On the other hand, Borrell could simply have sold some of his stocks of grain, wine, wool or linen, that he mentioned in his will.16

Guitard’s will and its sacramental publication have only survived in a copy from the year 1034. In the preamble to this copy, the document is referred to as the will of Guitardo Nigro.17 Whether the byname ‘the Black’ referred to Guitard’s physical appearance or to his activities as slave raider, considered brutal and ruthless by his fellow countrymen, must remain open to speculation. Perhaps Guitard the Black could be compared with Count Fulk III of Anjou (972–1040), who was nicknamed Fulco Nerra a few decades after his death. Fulk Nerra was notorious for his brutality, even by the standards of the time. To make amends for his misdeeds, he undertook at least three pilgrimages to Jerusalem.18

Guitard the Black came from the county of Cerdanya, where he had inherited an estate from his parents, as he explains in his will. He was married to a woman called Trudelendis and had two sons, Guifred and Eribau. In addition to the estate of Vilar de Paulo, acquired from Count Ramon in 997,Guitard owned several others in the area of Manresa, which he may also have purchased with the proceeds of the slave trade. Some of these estates he bequeathed to his wife and the two sons. His armour (alsebergum) went to his son Guifred, while a valuable red brocade fabric (tirezo vermilio), which probably came from the spoils of a raid in Al-Andalus, went to the church of St Mary of Manresa. Guitard’s elder son Guifred appears to have continued his father’s military career. Around 1060, he swore allegiance to Count Ramon Berenguer I and Countess Almodis as commander of the castle of Manresa.19


Photo: A small troop of knights, in: Bible of Roda (BNF Manuscrits LAT 6 (3)), fol. 145r, URL: [https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b85388130/f294.item] (02.02.2025).

  1. Ordeig i Mata, Ramon (ed.), Catalunya Carolíngia, Volum IV, Els comtats d’Osona i Manresa, Barcelona 1999, No. 1780bis: in propter precium kavallo I per pesses Xcem et Sarrazino I per pesses III et pessades II de argento. []
  2. Cf. a charter from 1000 as one example of many: quando Barchinona fuit capta a gente Sarracena (Baiges i Jardí, Ignasi J. / Puig i Ustrell, Pere (eds.), Catalunya Carolíngia, Volum VII, El comtat de Barcelona, Barcelona 2019, No. 1520). []
  3. For more details, see Freudenhammer, Thomas, Saracen Slaves in Tenth and Early Eleventh-Century Catalonia, Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte 110/3 (2023), pp. 370–382. []
  4. Freudenhammer, Thomas (2023): The Pesa, a Bimetallic Unit of Account in Tenth and Eleventh-Century Catalonia, Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte 110/1 (2023), pp. 74–89. []
  5. Some prominent examples: Viscount Guitard of Barcelona (died before 985), Abbot Guitard of Sant Cugat del Vallès (1010–1053), Guitardo piperario (a spice merchant in Barcelona, mentioned in 1025) and another wealthy citizen of Barcelona called Guitard ‘the Greek’ (Guitardo Greco, died around 1019). []
  6. Ordeig i Mata, Ramon (ed.), Diplomatari de la Catedral de Vic, Segle XI, Vic 2000, No. 741: Precipio vobis in primis donare faciatis ipsum meum alaudem de Vilar de Paulo, donare faciatis ad domum Sancti Petri sedis Vico propter Deum et remedium anime mee. []
  7. Ibid.: In nomine Domini. Ego Guitardus. Manifestum est quia domnus Reimundus comite et domna Ermessinda comitissa volunt pergere contra Spania cum comitis, episcopis, vicecomitis, cum omnium exercitum illorum, maximis vel minimis. []
  8. Ordeig i Mata, Ramon (ed.), Diplomatari de la Catedral de Vic, Segle XI, Vic 2000, No. 747 (the opening of the will after his death): sic fuit lanceatus sive perforatus III Kalendas Marci in mense preterito. []
  9. Ibid.: Et ipsos meos cavallos que ego abeo ad ipsa oste in Ispania, si mors mihi advenerit, si Deus a vobis reddiderit, aut de armas, vindere faciatis et ipsum precium donare faciatis urbis Rome Sancti Petri. []
  10. Ordeig i Mata, Ramon (ed.), Catalunya Carolíngia, Volum IV, Els comtats d’Osona i Manresa, Barcelona 1999, No. 951: et ipso Mecelemo iussit dare pro anima sua ad ipso cavallero captivo. []
  11. Rovira i Solà, Manuel, Notes documentals sobre alguns efectes de la presa de Barcelona per Al-Mansur (985), in: Acta historica et archaelogica mediaevalia 1 (1980), pp. 31–54. []
  12. Ordeig i Mata, Ramon (ed.), Diplomatari de la Catedral de Vic, Segle XI, Vic 2000, No. 747: Et ipsa redempcione de mea captiva Sarracena donare faciatis ad Sancti Petri Roma. []
  13. A similar case is reported in the will of Adalbert, son of Viscount Guitard, made before setting off to war in Al-Andalus in 1010: Rius i Serra, José (ed.), Cartulario de Sant Cugat del Vallés, Barcelona 1945–47, No. 441: et vindere faciatis ipsa mea Sarrazina et trimittere ipso precio ad domum Sancti Petri Roma. []
  14. We know of only one document from the end of the 10th century that points to such an agent: Baiges i Jardí, Ignasi J. / Puig i Ustrell, Pere (eds.), Catalunya Carolíngia, Volum VII, El comtat de Barcelona, Barcelona 2019, No. 1544. Here, a female captive named Dadil complains that she has no one to buy her freedom (Dadil femina […] misera captiva […] et quando fui in captivitate non fuit umquam homo neque femina qui me redemiserit). However, she managed to make a will, which Vito, a friend of hers brought from Huesca to Barcelona: Sciatis omnes Christiani qui ista carta ego mandavi per Vito, amico meo, et ego mandavi scribere in civitate Uosca. []
  15. Ordeig i Mata, Ramon (ed.), Catalunya Carolíngia, Volum IV, Els comtats d’Osona i Manresa, Barcelona 1999, No. 1078: ipsas tres pesas quod mihi debent de Spania donare faciatis in sacerdotibus; see also Zimmermann, Michel, Testament de Borrell. Le pèlerinage romain d’un catalan, in: Olivier Guyotjeannin / Emmanuel Poulle (eds.), Autour de Gerbert d’Aurillac, le pape de l’an mil, Album de documents commentés, Paris 1996, pp. 20–25, with a commentary and photograph of the document. []
  16. Ibid.: Et de omne rerum facultatum mearum quicquic mobilis est: pane, vino, lana, lino, bestias maiores vel minores […] ipsa tercia parte propter remedium anime mee sive supra sacrosancto altario, sive in sacerdotibus sive in debitis cuius ego debeo sive in pauperibus erogandis. []
  17. Ordeig i Mata, Ramon (ed.), Diplomatari de la Catedral de Vic, Segle XI, Vic 2000, No. 925: the copy from 25th May 1034. The epithet Nigro appears in the preamble to the copy: Hec est scriptura ab autentica fideliter translata […] id est testamento vel condicione condam Guitardo Nigro ex sue ultime voluntatis. []
  18. Kohl, Thomas, Sozialer Wandel und die Zweinamigkeit im 11. Jahrhundert – eine französische Perspektive. Namenkundliche Informationen 103/104 (2014), pp. 244–266, here pp. 255f. []
  19. Benet i Clarà, Albert, Història de Manresa. Dels orígens al segle XI, Manresa 1985, pp. 109–111. []

Uncovering the Legal Consciousness of Medieval Catalan Scholars through the ‘Usatges of Barcelona’

Anna Korneeva, independent scholar (Moscow)

Abstract: This study analyzes the ‘Usatges of Barcelona’, focusing on the translation techniques and linguistic adaptations in its Latin and Old Catalan versions. It reveals how medieval translators navigated multilingualism to enhance accessibility, emphasizing local customs while adapting legal frameworks to meet Catalan medieval societal needs.

The collection of customary laws named the ‘Usatges of Barcelona’, first compiled in the 12th century, exists in both Latin and Old Catalan versions, offering scholars an opportunity to explore the nuances of legal translation and the evolving legal consciousness of medieval Catalan intellectuals and jurists.

The research is based on a comparative analysis of the Latin and Old Catalan versions of the ‘Usatges’, focusing on the terminology, linguistic tools, and translation techniques employed by the medieval Catalan translators. By examining the foreign language elements, grammatical structures, and instances of inaccurate or intentional translation, researchers could gain valuable insights into the legal mindset of the period.

The essential aspect of this study is the analysis of multilingualism within the ‘Usatges’. The Latin version, likely the original, features a diverse array of terms, some with foreign etymologies, transcriptions, and grammatical adaptations. The Catalan translation often simplifies these linguistic complexities, favouring more familiar legal terminology and local customary references. The Catalan translators employed various techniques in rendering the ‘Usatges’ into the vernacular. These include generalization, particularization, and modulation of meaning.

The translators’ techniques also reveal several thoughts. While they generally respected the authority of the original Latin text, the Catalan translators employed various strategies, such as generalization, particularization, and modulation, to adapt the legal norms to the local context. This process of translation not only reflects the multilingual environment but also sheds light on the Pyrenean traditions of legal scholarship in the 13th century.

Additionally, the Catalan translators tended to actualize the legal norms, reducing descriptions and replacing Latinisms with local terms. For example, UB 64 (67) simplifies the verbal form from Latin “iurauerit” to Catalan “jurarà”, and UB 92(115) replaces the Latin “pupilli” with the more familiar Catalan “pobils”. The translation also exhibits grammatical and syntactical simplification. UB 10 (12) in Latin uses a more complex sentence structure, which is rendered in Catalan as the more concise. Similarly, UB 5 (6) in Latin has a longer sentence structure that is simplified in the Catalan version.

Perhaps most intriguing are the instances where the Catalan translation deviates from the Latin original, either through grammatical simplification, explanatory additions, or the replacement of Latinisms with more economically or customarily relevant terms. These “inaccuracies” can be seen as indicators of the translators’ legal consciousness, as they sought to make the text more accessible and relevant to the Catalan audience.

By delving into the linguistic and textual nuances of the ‘Usatges of Barcelona’, scholars can uncover the evolving legal mindset of medieval Catalan intellectuals. This comparative study not only sheds light on the complexities of legal translation but also provides a fascinating glimpse into the legal culture and traditions that shaped the legal landscape of medieval Catalonia.

Multilingualism is evident in the Latin version of the ‘Usatges’, where we see the different etymological origins of the terms used, transcription of words, and grammatical adaptation. The Latin version of UB 69 (74) uses the Catalan economic term with the Arabic origins “CECHIAM” which is Latinized and grammatically adapted, while the Catalan version simply says “La ciquia de l’ayga”.

These linguistic and translation features suggest that the Catalan translators were focused on making the legal text more accessible and understandable to the local audience, rather than strictly adhering to the original Latin forms. This reflects a particular legal consciousness that prioritized practical application and customary legal traditions over the authority of the original Latin text.

Selected Bibliography

Bastardas i Parera, Joan. Usatges De Barcelona. 1984. Internet Archive, http://archive.org/details/usatges-de-barcelona.

Martí i Castell, Joan. Estudi lingüístic dels „Usatges de Barcelona“: el codi a mitjan segle XII. Abadia de Montserrat, 2002. dialnet.unirioja.es, https://dialnet.unirioja.es/servlet/libro?codigo=183571.

Martínez Gázquez, José. „El latín en los Usatges de Barcelona“. Glossae: European Journal of Legal History, Nr. 7, 1995, S. 101–12.

Meyer-Hermann, Reinhard. „Auxiliar-Konstruktionen im llatí medieval katalanischer Urkunden (10.–13. Jh.) und in den Usatici Barchinonae / Usatges de Barcelona (12.–15. Jh.)“. Zeitschrift für romanische Philologie (ZrP), Bd. 135, Nr. 2, Juni 2019, ss. 507–34, https://doi.org/10.1515/zrp-2019-0028.

Meyer-Hermann, Reinhard. „Zur Emergenz katalanischer Syntax in den Usatici Barchinonae: Usatges de Barcelona (12.–15. Jhdt.)“. Zeitschrift für Katalanistik: Revista d’Estudis Catalans, Nr. 33, 2020, S. 155–99, https://doi.org/10.46586/ZfK.2020.155-199.

“Usatici Barchinone. Constituciones pacium et treugarum. Constituciones Cathalonie inter dominos et vassallos tenentes pro dominis castra” [= Tractatus de consuetudinibus Cathalonie inter dominos et vasallos]. [Et alias constitutiones regum Aragonum] // Archivo de la Corona de Aragón, ACA,COLECCIONES,Manuscritos,Ripoll,38. Fol. 1r. http://pares.mcu.es/ParesBusquedas20/catalogo/show/2345593.

The beginning of the fight against the plague in the 15th-century Crown of Aragon

Dr. Albert Reixach Sala, University of Lleida

Resumen: Esta entrada presenta una investigación en curso sobre los inicios de la lucha contra la peste en la Corona de Aragón tardomedieval. En concreto, se fija en la introducción de nuevas medidas pragmáticas para hacer frente a la pestilencia y otras enfermedades contagiosas impulsadas desde los gobiernos urbanos de Cataluña, Valencia, Mallorca y Aragón desde mediados del siglo XV. Estos mecanismos suponían un avance importante con respecto a las respuestas tradicionales ligadas a la interpretación en clave religiosa de una catástrofe como un estallido epidémico. Además de reconstruir la secuencia de la aparición y la evolución inicial de este despliegue de acciones, entre las que destacan las ligadas al control de la movilidad en tiempos de contagio, se avanza hacia varias explicaciones para entender la geografía, cronología y razones principales de este desarrollo. Un desarrollo que anticipa la narrativa predominante centrada en las ciudades italianas durante los siglos XVI y XVII.

Resumen: Aquesta entrada presenta una recerca en curs sobre els inicis de la lluita contra la pesta a la Corona d’Aragó tardomedieval. En concret, se centra en la introducció de noves mesures pragmàtiques per fer front a la pestilència i d’altres malalties contagioses impulsades des dels governs urbans de Catalunya, València, Mallorca i Aragó des de mitjan segle XV. Aquests mecanismes suposaven un avanç important respecte a les respostes tradicionals lligades a la interpretació en clau religiosa d’una catàstrofe com un esclat epidèmic. A més de reconstruir la seqüència de l’aparició i l’evolució inicial d’aquest desplegament d’accions, entre les quals destaquen les lligades al control de la mobilitat en temps de contagi, s’avança cap a diverses explicacions per entendre la geografia, cronologia i raons principals d’aquest desenvolupament. Un desenvolupament que anticipa la narrativa dominant centrada en les ciutats italianes dels segles XVI i XVII.

Abstract: This blogpost presents ongoing research on the early efforts to combat the plague in the late medieval Crown of Aragon. Specifically, it focuses on the introduction of new pragmatic measures to address pestilence and other contagious diseases, driven by the urban governments of Catalonia, Valencia, Mallorca, and Aragon from the mid-15th century. These mechanisms represented a significant advance over traditional responses tied to religious interpretations of catastrophes such as epidemic outbreaks. In addition to reconstructing the sequence of the emergence and initial evolution of these actions —particularly those related to controlling mobility during times of contagion— the research explores various explanations to understand the geography, chronology, and main reasons for this development. This development anticipates the predominant narrative centred on Italian cities during the 16th and 17th centuries.

In 1348 the municipal authorities of Tortosa bought an orchard close to a parish church of the city to bury part of the extraordinary number of dead who had fallen victim to the plague during that summer. In order to mitigate divine wrath and prevent pestilence, in 1384 the city council of Manresa issued an ordinance prohibiting blasphemy, gambling and other moral sins. With the same purpose, in many years, such as 1362, 1371 or later until the Early Modern period, the rulers of Barcelona, like the ones in other Catalan and Aragonese towns, organised processions to seek the intercession of the Virgin and other saints. For instance, in Girona, prior to finally entrusting themselves to Saint Sebastian, they could not resist the attraction to the local patron saint, Saint Narcis, while in Majorca, until the end of the 15th century, saint Praxedis was the figure of reference when the situation was becoming more complicated. If all this was not enough, more resources could be mobilised. That is why in many places in Catalonia, at the end of the 15th century, pilgrims were sent to Saint James of Compostela with a first stop at the quintessential Catalan sanctuary, Montserrat. At times when the extraordinary increase in the daily death toll was beginning to frighten the population of several communities throughout the Crown of Aragon, bells were prevented from tolling and  to wear mourning garments was limited (as in Lleida in 1384).

Like in other years during that period, two pilgrims were sent by the city of Girona to Santiago de Compostela to request divine intervention to stop the plague, in: Municipal Archive of Girona, Municipality, City council acts, year 1488, f. 50r: [https://pandora.girona.cat/viewer.vm?id=2832557&lang=en&page=119] (10.06.2024).

Yet, not everything was limited to ritual actions in dealing with epidemic outbreaks. Progressively more practical measures were attempted. In this sense, from the late 1420s onwards the municipal government of Barcelona appointed a clergyman (and later a surgeon) to keep an exhaustive count of the daily deaths registered in the different parishes of the city at times when there were signs of an outbreak of epidemics. Apart from monitoring mortality, the second quarter of the 15th century saw a further step forward in a number of settlements. In July 1420 the authorities of the small town of Terrassa, and in November 1429 those of Cervera, prohibited the entry of people coming from infected places, with an emphasis on avoiding the reception of sick people by innkeepers. Indeed, in many urban centres in Catalonia, Valencia and Aragon, from the mid-15th century onwards, the closure of the town walls was promoted for this purpose; a closure that ended up affecting local people who saw their mobility limited during epidemic outbreaks. In this sense, in the city of Valencia, it was the same Queen Maria (wife of Alfonso the Magnanimous who was on the verge of fulfilling his Neapolitan dream) who issued the first travel ban in times of pestilence.

Nonetheless, in several places contagion could come not only by land, but also by sea. This is clearly seen in the exceptional case of Mallorca. There, already in 1414, the government had mechanisms to expel people from the island, who werebelieved to come from contagion hot spots. The strategy later seems to have been replicated in Barcelona. In 1458 the rulers of the Catalan capital prevented the arrival of vessels from Majorca and even ordered the expulsion of Majorcans: they justified the decision partly as retaliation for the treatment received by Barcelonian citizens on the island in the previous year. Controlling ships on arrival at ports or setting up checkpoints at the gates of city walls seems more affordable than the first attempts at real cordons sanitaires in the open. One of the first cases can again be found on  Majorca. In 1467, the representatives of Sóller, on the northern coast, tried to avoid the arrival of infected people from the city by placing guards at the crossings of the paths that gave access to the valley of this small town.

Between the end of the 15th century and the beginning of the 16th century, some progress was made in other measures that have become a benchmark in the fight against pestilence. For example, in 1501 the authorities of Cervera built provisional barracks in which people returning to the town had to spend periods of preventive confinement (or quarantines which, indeed, in most places in that period did not yet really consist of 40 days). In 1509 the jurors of València, for the same purpose, rented a farmhouse on the way to the seaport of the city. Around the year 1476, in Majorca, what historians would call a ‘health board’ was set up with a doctor at the healm and by-laws containing many revealing details. For instance, they refer to the interest of lighting bonfires in front of the houses of plague sufferers, or they allude to the prohibition that no one should act as a physician without a license by the members of the board, also responsible for controlling the action of the gravediggers  or notaries who drew up wills for the dying. In October 1482, the notary Jaume Safont from Barcelona noted an  an unprecedented episode in his diary. In the Catalan capital the royal lieutenant had ordered the expulsion of the remaining inhabitants of a house, in which some people had died in strange circumstances. In general, there was an increased rigour in the institutional response against epidemic outbursts.

Certainly, all of the above-mentioned actions, although perhaps lacking an obvious connection, are part of the heterogeneous range of strategies implemented by municipal authorities in the Western dominions of the Crown of Aragon to cope with epidemic diseases during the first phase of the so called second plague pandemic, which began with the catastrophic outbreak between the years 1347 and 1351. Broadly speaking, while all the ritual actions arising from the interpretation of epidemic outbursts as “acts of God” can be traced back to the Black Death (or even before), in the area under investigation more pragmatic mechanisms did not emerge until the first half of the 15th century.

Faced with this great diversity of documented episodes, the historian’s task is twofold: to reconstruct the sequence of measures throughout the territories of Catalonia, Valencia, Majorca and Aragon and to explain the who, when, why and where of some reactions and, especially, of new mechanisms.1 In this regard, the relatively wide range of sources preserved in northeastern Iberia prove the agency of municipal governments in the whole process. However, it remains to be determined what role medical experts may have had and to find reasons for the apparent dissociation between university medical knowledge and urban governance. This should be connected with other fundamental issues such as possible changes in the way diseases and their diffusion patterns were perceived by  authorities or policymakers in general. After all, it is possible that the war against the plague in the Crown of Aragon was initiated in a certain way and at a certain time due to a whole set of conditioning elements that were not only ‘scientific’ but also linked to the institutional landscape and the political and social context of its urban centres.

In short, to study the long list of actions mentioned above, scholars must combine several perspectives and try to be as pervasive as the invisible enemy itself (again borrowing a fortunate expression from Carlo Cipolla in his description of the challenge of epidemics in military terms) that terrorised pre-modern societies. And this without forgetting that, as we experienced very recently, global diseases can also threaten our world.

Selected bibliography:

Agresta, Abigail. “From Purification to Protection: Plague response in Late Medieval Valencia.” Speculum 95 no. 2 (2020): 371-395.

Carmichael, Ann G. “Contagion Theory and Contagion Practice in Fifteenth-Century Milan.” Renaissance Quarterly 44, no. 2 (1991): 213-256.

Cipolla, Carlo M. Fighting the Plague in Seventeenth-Century Italy. Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1981.

Cohn, Samuel K. The Black Death Transformed. Disease and Culture in Early Renaissance Europe. London: Arnold, 2003.

Nicoud, Marilyn. “À l’épreuve de la peste. Médecins et savoirs médicaux face à la pandémie (XIVe-XVe siècles)”, Annales HSS 78 no. 3 (2023) : 505-541.

Reixach Sala, Albert, “Frenar el contagio por tierra y por mar en Cataluña y Mallorca en el siglo XV: en los albores de los cordones sanitarios.” Reti Medievali Rivista, 24 no. 2 (2023): 51-87.

Roca Cabau, Guillem. “Medidas municipales contra la peste en la Lleida del siglo XIV e inicios del XV.” Dynamis 38 no. 1 (2018): 15-39.

Photo: Fragment of frescoes from the chapel of Saint Sebastian in Lanslevillard (Savoy, France), from the end of the 15th century, URL: [https://paulsmit.smugmug.com/Features/Europe/France/Chapels-of-Southern-Alps/Saint-Sebastien-Lanslevillard/i-nLxb8Db] (10.06.2024).

  1. Based on the existing scholarly literature on the phenomenon, they are two main aims of the research projects “Beyond the Black Death. Epidemics and mortality crises in northeastern Iberia, 11th-16th centuries: reconstructing cycles, measuring effects, analysing responses (EPIDEMED) (PID2020-117839GB-I00) funded by MCIN/AEI/10.13039/501100011033 and also the research project The social dimension of health crises in Lleida and its region in the European context: from the Black Death to COVID-19 (IlerCriSan) funded by Indest – University of Lleida. []

Der Heilige Cucufas (†303/304) – Ein Iberischer Heiliger im Karolingerreich

Silke Engelhardt, Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg

Abstract: The case study presented here briefly highlights the focus of the doctoral thesis (since October 2022) on saints and patronages in the Catalan and southern French Pyrenean region. This research project examines the saints whose cults originate in the Iberian Peninsula and in Catalonia in particular. Using the example of Saint Cucufas, it could be shown that these saintly cults could migrate beyond the Pyrenees into neighbouring regions.

Resumen: El estudio que aquí se presenta destaca brevemente el enfoque de la tesis doctoral (desde octubre de 2022) sobre santos y patronazgos en la región pirenaica catalana y del sur de Francia. Este proyecto de investigación examina los santos cuyos cultos tienen su origen en la Península Ibérica y en Cataluña en particular. A partir del ejemplo de San Cucufas, se podrá demostrar que estos cultos de santos pudieron emigrar más allá de los Pirineos hacia las regiones vecinas.

Zusammenfassung: Die hier vorgestellte Fallstudie beleuchtet knapp den Fokus der Doktorarbeit (seit Oktober 2022) zu Heiligen und Patrozinien im katalanischen und südfranzösischen Pyrenäenraum. Im Rahmen dieses Forschungsvorhabens werden die Heiligen untersucht, deren Kulte den Ursprung auf der Iberischen Halbinsel und im Besonderen in Katalonien haben. Anhand des Beispiels des Heiligen Cucufas konnte gezeigt werden, dass diese Heiligenkulte über die Pyrenäen hinaus in die Nachbarregionen wandern konnten.

Zu Beginn des IV. Jh. treffen zwei junge wohlhabende Männer, Cucufas und Felix, mit dem Schiff im Hafen von Barcelona ein. Beide sind vermutlich Söhne wohlhabender Familien aus dem Norden Afrikas, genauer der Stadt Scilicum bei Karthago. Die jungen Männer sind Christen und befinden sich auf der Flucht vor den römischen Christenverfolgungen unter Kaiser Diokletian. Den christlichen Werken der Barmherzigkeit folgend, kümmern sich Cucufas und Felix, die über die entsprechenden finanziellen Mittel verfügen, um ihre Mitmenschen und weitere Flüchtlinge. Felix reiste weiter in den Norden in die Stadt Girona, während Cucufas in Barcelona verweilte, um dort zu predigen. Die Predigten des jungen Christen erregten die Aufmerksamkeit des Statthalters Galerius, der Cucufas vor sich bringen ließ und verhörte. Cucufas musste sich mehreren Torturen unterziehen, die er alle unversehrt überstand – ganz im Gegenteil zu den Soldaten bzw. seinen Richtern, die ihn folterten; diese wurden geblendet oder fanden sogar den Tod. Zuletzt wurde Cucufas unter dem Statthalter Rufinus enthauptet. Der mögliche Ort dieser Hinrichtung wird als „locum hunc Obtiano, quod situm est a civitate octavo miliario“ bezeichnet. Eine genaue Bezeichnung ist leider nicht möglich, es wird aber vermutet, dass es sich um den heutigen Standort des Klosters Sant Cugat del Vallès handeln könnte. Dort wurden in 1990er Jahren bei Ausgrabungen die Fundamente einer möglichen Märtyrerkapelle gefunden. 

Grundriss von Sant Cugat del Vallès

Wieso wissen wir von dem Heiligen mit dem ungewöhnlichen Namen? Der frühchristliche Dichter Prudentius (†405) hat uns im ausgehenden IV. und beginnenden V. Jh. in seinem Liber Persitephanon eine Sammlung von insgesamt 14 Märtyrerhymnen hinterlassen. In der vierten Hymne wird Cucufas gemeinsam mit dem erwähnten Felix erstmalig in einer liturgischen Quelle genannt.1 Er taucht ein weiteres Mal in der Passio Sanctae Leocadiae zusammen mit weiteren iberischen Märtyrern auf. Im sogenannten Orationale Visigothorum, das sich heute in der Bibliotheca Capitolare in Verona befindet und vermutlich im 7. Jh. in Tarragona entstanden ist, wird Cucufas ebenfalls mit einem Eintrag erwähnt. Zwischenzeitlich entstand in Barcelona ein Kloster unter dem Patrozinium des Heiligen. Es wird vermutet, dass zu diesem Zeitpunkt auch die Passio des Heiligen aufgezeichnet wurde, da man zwar die Reliquien des Heiligen hatte, aber diesen auch einen besonderen Wert durch die Heiligenlegende verleihen musste.2 Im Jahr 777 werden die Reliquien des Heiligen Cucufas im Testament des Abts Fulrad von Saint Denis erwähnt und es stellt sich die Frage wie diese Reliquien den Weg ins Karolingerreich – genauer nach Leberau im heutigen Elsass – gefunden haben könnten.3 In den drei gängigsten Theorien stehen sowohl Abt Fulrad von Saint Denis (†784) als auch der Hof um Karl den Großen (†814) im Mittelpunkt.

  1. Die „Süleiman“-Theorie: Die Vertreter dieser Theorie sehen in der Translatio der Reliquien ins Karolingerreich ein diplomatisches Geschenk des wali (Statthalter) von Barcelona, der zu seiner Audienz im Jahr 759 bei Karl dem Großen diese Reliquien mitgebracht haben könnte. Abt Fulrad war zu dieser Zeit Kanzler am Hof des Königs. Die Theorie des diplomatischen Geschenks scheint die wahrscheinlichste zu sein. Die Ausstattung von neugegründeten Klöstern und Kirchen war nicht nur eine Voraussetzung für die Weihe des Altars und des Kirchenbaus, sondern gleichzeitig auch eine Möglichkeit Pilger an den Ort des Glaubens zu holen. Die Reliquien mehrten so nicht nur den Schatz der Kirche, sondern auch deren Ansehen in der jeweiligen Region. 
  2. „Rom“-Theorie: Es wird vermutet, dass die Reliquien des Cucufas zunächst nach Rom gelangt waren, möglicherweise ähnlich wie der Codex des Orationale Visigothorum, um sie vor dem Einfall der Muslime in die Region zu bewahren. Der Papst habe die Reliquien dann Abt Fulrad als Geschenk überreicht diese Theorie kann jedoch nicht belegt werden und erscheint daher unwahrscheinlich.
  3. „Botschafter“-Theorie: Hier geht man davon aus, dass Abt Fulrad Mönche beauftragt habe auf die Iberische Halbinsel zu reisen, um Reliquien zu erwerben/zu erhalten. So wie ca. 100 Jahre später der Mönch Usuard den Auftrag erhielt in Cordoba Reliquien von Märtyrern zu erwerben. Diese Theorie ist die unwahrscheinlichste, da die Reise des Mönchs Usuard von Saint Germain-des-Près schriftliche Dokumentation hinterlassen hat, die postulierte Reise der Botschafter im Auftrag Fulrads jedoch gar nicht belegt ist.4

Die Reise des Cucufas endet jedoch nicht im Elsass, sondern führt uns weiter nach Saint Denis, die Kathedrale im Herzen des Karolingerreichs. Abt Fulrad hat in seinem Testament angeordnet, dass seine Klöster, Güter, Schätze und Reliquien der Abtei von Saint Denis vermacht werden sollen. In den 830er Jahren werden die Reliquien im Auftrag des Abt Hilduin von Saint Denis (†840/844) nach Saint Denis geholt. Die Martyrologien, die in den 860er Jahren entstehen, verfasst durch Ado v. Vienne,5 Florus und Usuard6 bezeugen die Translatio der Reliquien von Leberau nach Saint Denis, wenn auch nur mit jeweils einem Satz am Ende der Passionsgeschichte des Heiligen an seinem Ehrentag, dem 25. Juli bzw. den VIII. Kalenden des August. In Saint Denis haben die Überreste des Cucufas ihre letzte Ruhestätte an einem Ehrenplatz rechts des Hauptaltars erhalten. Noch heute ist ein Schrein mit den vermeintlichen Überresten des Heiligen in Saint Denis zu sehen. Cucufas wurde und wird noch heute in anderen mit Saint Denis verbundenen Klöstern verehrt, u. a. in Corbie und Saint Benoit sur Loire.

In diesem kleinen Bericht zu meinen Forschungen hoffe ich darstellen zu können, dass Heilige und deren Reliquien sowie deren Passiones einen festen Platz in der früh- und hochmittelalterlichen Liturgie, aber auch dem weltlichen Leben einnahmen. Zum einen wurde Geschichte geschrieben, um bestimmte Realitäten zu schaffen, die dann wiederum zu einer Aufwertung der Klöster und Kirchen führten, welche die Reliquien ihr Eigen nennen durften. Die Überreste der Heiligen konnten aber auch als diplomatische Geschenke dienen. Gleichermaßen stärkte die translatio der Reliquien an verschiedene Orte, die Netzwerkverbindungen zwischen den religiösen Gemeinschaften und Institutionen, wie sich vor allem in den Martyrologien und weiteren liturgischen Handschriften wie Kalendarien und Antiphonarien feststellen lässt. 

Bei der Erforschung der Iberischen Heiligen erhoffe ich mir noch mehr solch interessanter Biographien und Netzwerkverbindungen zu identifizieren, welche die Region um die Pyrenäen weiter ins Zentrum des Karolingerreichs rücken – weg von der Peripherie.


Photo: Reliquar des Heiligen Cucufas, in: Museu Diocesà de Barcelona, MDB 679.

  1. Prudence. Cathemerinon Liber, hg. v. Maurice Lavarenne (1), Paris 21955. []
  2. Fábrega Grau, Ángel, Pasionario Hispánico (siglos VII-XI) (Monumenta Hispania Sacra. Serie Litúgica VI) 1953 sowie Passionarivm Hispanicvm, hg. v. Valeriano Yarza Urkiola (Corpvs Christianorvm. Series latina 171-171 A), Turnhout 2020. []
  3. Tangl, Michael, Das Testament Fulrads von Saint – Denis, 1907, URL: [https://www.digizeitschriften.de/id/345858530_0032|log15] (05.07.2023). []
  4. Pagès i Paretas, Montserrat, Sobre el trasllat de relíquies de Sant Cugat a Alsàcia i a Sant Denís, a prop de París, en època carolíngia, in: Miscel·lània litúrgica catalana 17, 2009, URL: [https://raco.cat/index.php/Miscellania/article/view/51014] (05.07.2023). []
  5. Le martyrologe d’Adon. Ses deux familles, ses trois recensions ; Texte et commentaire, hg. v. Jacques Dubois/Geneviève. Renaud u.a. (Sources d’histoire médiévale), Paris 1984. []
  6. Gaiffier, Baudouin de, Les notices hispaniques dans le martyrologe d’Usuard, in: Analecta Bollandiana, 1937, S. 268–283. []

Mendicants and Conquest in the Crown of Aragon – Mallorca and Sardinia compared

Robert Friedrich, Universität Greifswald

Zusammenfassung: Die Bettelorden sind nicht die ersten, die einem in den Sinn kommt, wenn man an Eroberung denkt. In diesem Blogbeitrag wird die Beteiligung von Franziskanern und Dominikanern an zwei Eroberungen der Krone Aragon untersucht: Das muslimische Mayūrqa und Sardinien. Der Autor vergleicht die Rolle der Brüder in diesen Feldzügen und wie die “Art” der Eroberung ihr Handeln beeinflusste. Die Mendikanten spielten bei beiden Eroberungen eine wichtige Rolle – vor allem in der Zeit nach der militärischen Eroberung –, aber ihre Rolle unterschied sich je nachdem, ob die eroberte Bevölkerung christlich war oder nicht. Der Autor kommt zu dem Schluss, dass die religiösen Orden gute Voraussetzungen mitbrachten, um an beiden Arten von Eroberungen teilzunehmen, und dass sich die Könige bei der Eroberung und Integration neuer Gebiete in hohem Maße auf sie stützten.

Abstract: The Mendicant orders are not the first group that comes to mind when one thinks of conquest. This blog post explores the involvement of Franciscans and Dominicans in two conquests by the Crown of Aragon: Muslim Mayūrqa and Sardinia. The author compares the roles of the friars in these campaigns and how the “type“ of conquest influenced their actions. The Mendicants played an important part in both conquests – especially in the aftermath of the military campaign – but their role differed depending on whether the conquered population was Christian or not. The author concludes that religious orders were well-equipped to take part in both types of conquest and heavily relied on by the kings to conquer and integrate new territories.

The 13th and 14th centuries were the critical periods in the Mediterranean expansion of the medieval Crown of Aragon: The Balearic Islands, Valencia, Sicily, Sardinia and Corsica all fell under some form of Aragonese rule, the Crown even established influence in the Eastern Mediterranean. In this blog post, I would like to bring together the study of Mendicant orders and military conquests by comparing the involvement of the Mendicant orders during and after two of the abovementioned conquests: Muslim Mayūrqa (629/1229) and Sardinia (1323). They significantly differ in one particular aspect: the religion of the conquered.1 I aim to explore in which ways religious actors like the Mendicants took part in those clearly political campaigns and how the “type” of conquest influenced their actions. 

When James I started his military campaign in 1229, two Dominican friars accompanied his army: Miguel de Fabra and Berenguer de Castellbisbal. When recounting the events almost half a century later, the king accorded Miguel de Fabra a particular importance for the endeavour’s success. His reputation stemmed from two functions he fulfilled, both during the campaign and after the successful conquest of Madina Mayūrqa on 31 December 1229. The first function is preaching the crusade and the moral support of the army and king. The description of how King James wanted the friars’ doings to be remembered is a striking example of the royal-mendicant symbiosis and merits to be appreciated in full:

And nobody ever saw an army that fulfilled its duties so well; just as was preached by a Dominican friar who was called Friar Michael. He was in the army and was a reader in theology, and his companion was brother Berenguer de Castellbisbal. And when he gave absolution (which he had permission to do from the bishops), everybody would bring everything that he told them they should, whether it was wood or stone. Even the knights did not wait for the foot soldiers to bring things, but helped in every way they could. In front of them in their saddles they would bring by horse the stones for the fenevols. And the men of their houses did the same to supply the trebuchets, delivering the stones on frames that they had tied with cords round their necks. Indeed, when we ordered them to go with armoured horses to guard the war machines by night, or by day to guard those digging the tunnels, or to do whatever else that was necessary for the army, if it was ordered fifty should go, a hundred would go.2

The second function concerns something that could be summarised as symbolic communication for the king:

And we ordered two Dominican brothers to enter, in order to guard the king’s chambers and treasure, and two knights with them, good and prudent men, so that with their squires they should help to protect and watch over the Almudaina, as we were very tired and wished to rest, as the sun had already set.3

Tired after a long siege and his final victory, the king ordered two Dominican friars to stand guard in front of his chambers together with two knights, showing the prominent symbolic place of the friars not only for James’ spiritual well-being but also for his self-fashioning half a century later when writing his autobiography. They were also supposed to watch that none of the army’s members started the town looting, further underscoring their perceived influence over the troops’ morale. Miguel de Fabra then celebrated the first Christian mass on Mallorcan soil, using an improvised altar inside the Almudaina palace. This altar later became the centre of the chapel of Nuestra Senora de la Victoria y San Miguel (another reference to Friar Miguel), around which the first Dominican convent was built, right in the middle of the city and not on the outskirts as it was usual for Mendicant convents. This convent stood at the beginning of Christian Aragonese Mallorca and was closely linked to the royal occupation of the palace. Christian conquest and symbolic Christianisation thus went hand in hand.

The situation was different when Infant Alfonso conquered Sardinia in 1323. It was no crusade, although the campaignwas authorised and somewhat supported by the papacy, as James had gotten the island as a papal fiefdom in 1295.Alfonso found an already Christian society that needed to be integrated into his realms. He relied heavily on religious orders too, but the goals differed. Instead of creating from the ground up, the functions of the orders focussed on the “Catalanisation” of the island’s population and on exerting influence over them through religious actors. Alfonso and his advisors utilised all levels of the hierarchy of the Mendicant orders. The first measure to strengthen the Catalan religious impact on the island was the demand for three Franciscan friars from Catalonia to be sent there by the provincial minister in 1323. When Alfonso’s brother later asked the king to send one of them back, he refused because the friar was supposed to establish a new Franciscan convent. This leads to the second step of Mendicant involvement: the foundation of new convents and the support of existing convents undertaken by the king. But not only did Alfonso send Catalan friars to Sardinia, he also tried to banish Italian, especially Pisan friars, on multiple occasions, accusing them of conspiring against him. The most important structural change occurred in 1329 when Pope John XXII decided – upon the king’s wish – that all the convents of the four Mendicant orders should thereupon be part of their respective provinces of Aragon and be severed from the different Italian provinces they belonged to before. As the provincial ministers were usually on close terms with the king, this attachment meant a potentially more significant influence on the Sardinian convents and a lesser influence by Italian secular and religious powers. The fourth step concerns the dioceses of Sardinia. Compared to Mallorca, the primary difference was that a net of bishops was already in place, so the king could only try to exert influence when a bishopric became vacant. Already in 1325, Alfonso and his father James had instructed their ambassador to the pope that he should propose different candidates for potentially vacant bishoprics. For Sardinia, they mainly proposed Mendicant Friars well-known to the king and infant. Apparently, Mendicants were seen fit for the difficult task of administering a Sardinian diocese with little promising income.

The key to Mendicant involvement in conquests lies in the fact that conquering and governing a territory are two completely different stories. Unlike the military orders, Mendicants did not fight, but they could have a strong influence on the population as well as members of the royal family. The preaching of a crusade was thus an essential factor, but only possible when the campaign was directed against a non-Christian territory.4 The most critical role the Mendicants played in these contexts usually came after the military campaign. This is true for both the Mallorcan and the Sardinian cases. The type of conquest influenced the degree to which they were involved. Whereas the Mendicants played an important part in other campaigns against non-Christians (be it Muslims in the Mediterranean or pagans in Eastern Europe) in order to build a new Christian society, their role in the Sardinian campaign was facilitated by the papal approval following the treaty of Anagni. The focus here was on the “Catalanisation” of the Christian population. Despite these differences, one can conclude that religious orders were – in the eyes of the kings – well equipped to effectively take part in both types of conquest. They also benefitted from their close relationship with the king, who, in turn, heavily relied on monks, friars, nuns, convents, and monasteries to conquer and integrate new territories.


Photo: Dominican friars watch over a conquered town, in: Llibre dels feyts, f. 41r, URL: [https://mdc.csuc.cat/digital/collection/manuscritBC/id/28206] (03.05.2023).

  1. I have analysed the role of the Mendicant and other religious orders during and after the conquest of Mallorca in an upcoming article: Preaching – Fighting – Organising. Religious Orders and the Christian Conquest of Mayūrqa/Mallorca (627–629 / 1229–1231), in: Sven Jaros et al. (Ed.), Changes of Monarchical Rule in Late Medieval Societies in Comparison. Negotiations – Actors – Ambivalences [in preparation]. The involvement of Mendicants in the conquest of Sardinia is an integral part of my phd-project. See also: Jill Webster, The early catalan Mendicants in Sardinia, in: Biblioteca francescana sarda 2 (1988), 5–18; Maria Giuseppina Meloni, Ordini religiosi e politica regia nella Sardegna catalano-aragonese della prima metà del XIV secolo, in: Anuario de Estudios Medievales 24 (1994), 831–854. []
  2. The Book of Deeds of James I of Aragon. A Translation of the Medieval Catalan Llibre dels Feits. Ed. Damian Smith / Helena Buffery. (Crusade Texts in Translation) London / New York 2003, ch. 69, S. 94.  []
  3. Ibid., ch. 87, S. 109 f. []
  4. That the friars clearly differentiated between those different contexts becomes evident in an almost contemporary case: In 1333/34, the Crown of Aragon found itself in an ongoing war with Genoa (about Sardinia) and planned a crusade against Granada. The Carmelite friar Bernat Despuig was very clear in his sermons: the faithful should pray for the king’s victory in the Granada campaign but not in wars against other Christians. See Adam Franklin-Lyons/Marie Kelleher, Framing Mediterranean Famine, in: Speculum 97,1 (2022), S. 66. []

Gräfin Ermessenda von Carcassonne (†1057) – Das mysteriöse „Siegel“ der verschwundenen Altarfront von Girona

Silke Engelhardt, Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg


Abstract: The Catalan territories being the only region of the Iberian Peninsula, which can look back at a Carolingian tradition, are unique both as a part of Iberian history and as field of research.. This manifests not only in the political and religious structures of the peninsula, but rather in the outstanding personalities responsible for shaping the society in their image. During a master’s thesis project on the possibilities for agency of medieval women in Catalonia (900–1200) in the context of church consecrations, one of these personalities stood out: Countess Ermessenda whose peculiar “seal” and its context will be presented in the following article.


Resumen: Los condados catalanes – como región única de la península ibérica – con una larga tradición carolingia – son en si una parte de la historia e un campo de investigación muy interesante y especial en el conjunto de península. Esa posición no solo se presenta mediante las estructuras políticas o religiosas, sino también mediante las personas distinguidas quienes eran responsable de formar la sociedad según sus ideas. En un proyecto fin de master con el tema de investigar las posibilidades de mujeres para formar parte activa en la sociedad política y religiosa en la Catalunya medieval uno de esos personajes, la condesa Ermessenda de Carcasona has ido investigado. Su peculiar “sello” en su contexto histórico será el centro de este artículo.


Resumen: Com a única regió de la Península Ibèrica que es basa en influències carolingies, els comtats catalans representen un tret especial en la seva història i en l’estudi de la mateixa. Aquesta posició especial no només s’expressa en l’estructura política i religiosa de la península, però també en destacades personalitats amb gran influència en la seva societat, així com en la política i la religió. La influència de la comtessa Ermessenda s’ha analitzat en un treball de fi de màster sobre el camp d’actuació de les dones a la Catalunya medieval (900-1200) en el context de la fundació i consagració d’esglésies. El seu peculiar “segell” es presenta i contextualitza a continuació.

Zusammenfassung: Als einzige Region der iberischen Halbinsel, die sich auf karolingische Einflüsse gründet, stellen die katalanischen Grafschaften – in Abgrenzung zu den muslimisch beherrschten Gebieten – eine Besonderheit in ihrer Geschichte und der Erforschung derselben dar. Diese Sonderstellung äußert sich nicht nur im politischen und religiösen Gefüge der Halbinseln, sondern auch in herausragenden Persönlichkeiten mit großem Einfluss auf ihre Gesellschaft, Politik und Religion. Im Rahmen einer Masterarbeit zu den Handlungsfeldern der Frauen im mittelalterlichen Katalonien (900–1200) im Rahmen von Kirchengründungen und –weihen, wurde u. a. die hier vorzustellende Gräfin Ermessenda untersucht. Ihr ausgewöhnliches „Siegel“ soll hier vorgestellt und kontextualisiert werden.

Girona im Jahr 1809 inmitten des Spanischen Unabhängigkeitskriegs (1808–1814): In der Sakristei der Kathedrale der Stadt wird die goldene Verkleidung der Altarfront des Hauptaltars entfernt und eingeschmolzen, um die militärischen Operationen finanzieren zu können. Ihre Geschichte ist sehr gut erforscht und aufgrund einer detaillierten Beschreibung im Inventar des Altars aus dem Jahr 1511 gut rekonstruierbar. Demnach war die Altarfront in 32 einzelne in Gold getriebene Relieffelder unterteilt, die sich gleichmäßig rechts und links von einer Darstellung Mariens mit dem Gottessohn verteilten. Die Darstellungen zeigten Szenen aus dem Leben Jesu. Im Zentrum der Altarfront umschloss eine Mandorla Maria und Jesus. Unter der Mandorla befand sich eine Emaillearbeit, die eine weibliche Figur darstellte, die aufgrund der Umschrift GUISLA/COMITISSA/ME FIERI/IUSSIT als Guisla de Lluça (†1076), zweite Frau des Grafen Berenguer Ramón I. von Barcelona (†1035) identifiziert werden könnte.1 Aus den überlieferten Berichten derjenigen, die die Altarfront vor der Einschmelzung im Jahr 1809 noch sehen konnten, geht hervor, dass die Front mit einer Vielzahl an (Halb-)Edelsteinen geschmückt war. Im Jahr 1678 beschreibt der spanische Gelehrte Juan Gaspar ROIG I GALPI (†1691) die große Vielfalt an (Halb-)Edelsteinen, die er auf der Altarfront gezählt habe. Hierunter ein Chalcedon, in den die Buchstaben ERMESI(N)DIS in lateinischen und arabischen Buchstaben eingeschnitten worden waren.2 Im Bericht des Mönchs Jaume VILLANEUVA I ASTENGO wird ebenfalls auf die Fertigstellung des Altars durch Guisla de Lluça (†1076) verwiesen und auch das Gemmensiegel der Ermessenda wird erwähnt und beschrieben.3

Rekonstruktion der verlorenen Altarfront von Girona. Zeichnung von Iker SPOZIO, in: ABENZA SORIA, Verónica Carla, ¿Patronazgo en cuestión o cuestión de patronazgo? Ermessenda de Carcassone y el desaparecido frontal de altar de la catedral de Girona: el enigma de su piedra sigilar, in: Locus Amoenus, 2020, S. 13.

Ermessenda von Carcassonne war eine der einflussreichsten Frauen des katalanischen Mittelalters, die die Region mit ihrer Politik während der ersten Hälfte des 11. Jahrhundert prägte. Sie wurde 975 als Tochter des Grafen Roger I. von Carcassonne geboren. 18-jährig wurde sie mit Ramón Borell, dem Grafen des mächtigen Hauses von Barcelona vermählt. Ab diesem Zeitpunkt wird Ermessenda auch in den Urkunden als gratia Dei comitissa erwähnt. Ihr Ehemann verstarb sehr früh und Ermessenda übernahm die Vormundschaft für ihren erst fünfjährigen Sohn und somit die Herrschaft über die Grafschaften Barcelona, Girona und Vic. Während ihrer Ehe hatte Ermessenda an politischem Einfluss und Erfahrung gewonnen und konnte so bewirken, dass ihr Bruder Pere Roger zum Bischof von Girona ernannt wurde. Somit war der erste Grundstein für ihre enge Beziehung zu Girona und der Kathedrale etabliert. Im Jahr 1023 erhielt die Gräfin dann auch den Zuspruch für die Grafschaft Girona.4 In Girona war Ermessenda gemeinsam mit dem bischöflichen Bruder an der Restaurierung der Kathedrale beteiligt. Die Urkunde der anschließenden Kirchweihe der Kathedrale aus dem Jahr 1038 macht ihre Position im direkten Umfeld des Bischofs von Girona ebenso deutlich wie die große Relevanz der Kathedrale für die Gräfin. In dieser Urkunde wird sie als fromme und großzügige Förderin der Kathedrale dargestellt und ihre Rolle in der Restaurierung des Gotteshauses neben der des Bruders hervorgehoben. In der Signumszeile wird folgendes zu Ermessenda festgehalten: Signum ERMESSINDIS comitisse, que eadem die ad honorem Dei et matris ecclesie trecentas auri contulit uncias ad auream construendam tabulam. /Ermessenda hat der Kathedrale 300 Goldunzen gestiftet, die für die Erstellung einer Altarfront verwendet werden sollen.5


Wie kommt nun aber der Chalcedon in diese Altarfront und handelte es sich wirklich um ein Siegel? Da solche Kunstwerke meist works in progress blieben, wurden sie immer wieder restauriert und mit weiteren Preziosen ausgeschmückt.6 Während eines solchen Prozesses könnte der Stein in die Altarfront eingesetzt worden sein. Geht man davon aus, dass die Herstellung der Front noch zu Lebzeiten der Gräfin erfolgte, besteht die Möglichkeit, dass der Stein als Zeichen für die Authentizität der Stiftung durch die mächtige Gräfin oder als Autoritätszeichen eingesetzt worden war. Die Fragen bezüglich der Nutzung des Steins zu Lebzeiten der Gräfin sind vielzählig und können nicht eindeutig beantwortet werden. Gemeinhin wird der Stein zwar als „Siegel“ bezeichnet, doch scheint eine Nutzung als solches eher unwahrscheinlich. Die bisherige Forschung zu Siegeln bzw. Frauensiegeln lässt eine Verwendung in diesem Sinne ebenfalls ausschließen. Die lateinischen und arabischen Buchstaben nennen lediglich den Namen der Gräfin. Da die Gräfin ihren Mann auf einen Kriegszug gegen das muslimisch beherrschte Cordoba begleitet haben soll, könnte man weiterhin vermuten, dass es sich um ein diplomatisches Geschenk gehandelt haben könnte, im Stile arabischer Gemmensiegel. Die kleinen Bohrlöcher lassen eine Verwendung als Anhänger einer Kette oder als Einfassung eines Ringes vermuten. Auch wenn nicht abschließend geklärt werden kann welche Funktion der Chalcedon übernommen haben mag, so ist dieser doch das einzige auf uns gekommene materielle Zeugnis für das Leben und Wirken der Gräfin, ihrer Beteiligung an der Weihe des restaurierten Kathedralbaus im Jahre 1038 sowie ihrer Anordnung der Herstellung der Altarfront, die rund 750 Jahre den Hauptaltar der Kathedrale von Girona zierte.


Der hier präsentierte Auszug entstammt einem Kapitel der Masterarbeit: Handlungsfelder von Frauen im Kontext von Kirchengründungen in den katalanischen Grafschaften (9.-12. Jh.). Eine Untersuchung der «Dotalies de les esglesies de Catalunya (segles IX a XII)». Im Rahmen der Arbeit wurden die Handlungsmöglichkeiten von Frauen im Kontext von Kirchweihen und darüber hinaus untersucht. Die Arbeit entstand als Qualifikationsschrift im Studiengang Mittelalterstudien mit Fachschwerpunkt Mittelalterliche Geschichte.


Photo: Chalcedon, «Siegel» der Ermessenda von Carcassonne, in: MARTIN, Glimpses of Gold, 2021, S. 207.

  1. Handelte es sich um Guisla, dann wäre sie als Schwiegertochter diejenige, die sich nach dem Tod der Gräfin Ermessenda für die Fertigstellung oder Umsetzung der Altarfront einsetzte. Interessant ist hier, dass Guisla zum Zeitpunkt des Todes der Ermessenda nicht mehr im Stand einer Gräfin, sondern einer Vizegräfin in Barcelona lebte. Die Bezeichnung als „comitissa“ könnte bedeuten, dass Guisla und Ermessenda gemeinsam noch vor deren Tod den Auftrag für die Fertigstellung erteilt hatten. []
  2. ROIG I GALPÍ, Juan Gaspar, Resumen historial de las grandezas y antigüedades de la ciudad de Gerona, y cosas memorables suyas Eclesiásticas y Seculares, allí de nuestros tiempos, como de los passados, Barcelona 1678, gedruckt von Jacinto Adreu, S. 206-210. []
  3. VILLANUEVA I ASTENGO, Jaume, Viatge literario á las iglesias de España (12), Valencia 1806, S. 180f. []
  4. Dieser Zuspruch war das Resultat eines Konflikts zwischen der Gräfin und ihrem zwischenzeitlich volljährigen Sohn Graf Berenguer Ramón I. (†1035). []
  5. ORDEIG I MATA, Ramon: Les dotalies de les esglésies de Catalunya (segles IX – XII) (Estudis històrics Diplomatari 2-I), Vic 1996, S. 81f. []
  6. ABENZA SORIA, Verónica Carla, ¿Patronazgo en cuestión o cuestión de patronazgo? Ermessenda de Carcassone y el desaparecido frontal de altar de la catedral de Girona: el enigma de su piedra sigilar, in: Locus Amoenus, 2020, S. 14. []

Medieval Martyrologies: Previous Approaches and New Understandings

Dr. Ekaterina Novokhatko, Technische Universität Dresden

Zusammenfassung: Martyrologien offenbaren uns zahlreiche Aspekte des religiösen Lebens im Mittelalter. Bei der Erörterung der möglichen Herangehensweisen an die Martyrologien werde ich ihre Funktionen als hagiographische Lehrbücher, als Gedächtnisspeicher mittelalterlicher Gemeinschaften und schließlich als Medien aufzeigen, die nicht nur der Übertragung neuer Kulte und Feste dienten, sondern auch von ihrer Umsetzung in verschiedenen Typen von Religionsgemeinschaften zeugen und die hinter ihrer Verbreitung stehenden politischen, spirituellen und intellektuellen Ideen und Absichten offenbaren. Unter diesem Blickwinkel habe ich in meiner Promotionsarbeit acht erhaltene Martyrologien aus der Kirchenprovinz Narbonne im Hinblick auf ihre Rolle bei der Gestaltung des religiösen Empfindens im Katalonien des zehnten bis zwölften Jahrhunderts untersucht. Diese Herangehensweise an die mittelalterlichen Martyrologien erlaubt es uns, die Verbindungen zwischen religiösen Institutionen zu rekonstruieren; zu sehen, welche Mittel zur Verbreitung von Kulten eingesetzt wurden; zu untersuchen, wie die politischen Verflechtungen zwischen religiösen und Laieninstitutionen zur Etablierung bestimmter Feste führten; und schließlich einen Einblick in das Ausmaß zu geben, in dem diese Feste die Kernideen und -gedanken mittelalterlicher Gesellschaften formten und widerspiegelten.

Resumen: Los martirologios nos revelan múltiples aspectos de la vida religiosa medieval. A través de la discusión sobre los posibles panoramas de los martirologios, demostraré sus funciones como libros hagiográficos educativos, como almacenamiento de la memoria de la comunidad medieval y, finalmente, como medios que no sólo transfieren nuevos cultos y festividades, sino que también dan testimonio de su aplicación en diversos tipos de comunidades religiosas y revelan las ideas e intenciones políticas, espirituales e intelectuales que hay detrás de su difusión. Desde este punto de vista se han trabajado, en mi tesis doctoral, ocho martirologios existentes en la provincia eclesiástica de Narbona así como su papel en la formación de las sensibilidades religiosas en la región catalana de los siglos X a XII. Este enfoque de los martirologios medievales nos permite reconstruir las conexiones entre las instituciones religiosas; ver qué medios se utilizaron para la difusión de los cultos; examinar cómo la política entrelazada de las instituciones y personas religiosas y laicas condujo a la realización de ciertas festividades; y, por último, ofrecer una visión de la medida en que estas fiestas modelaron y reflejaron las ideas y pensamientos cruciales de la sociedad medieval.

Abstract: Martyrologies reveal to us numerous aspects of medieval religious life. Discussing the possible approaches to the martyrologies, I will demonstrate their functions as educational hagiographical books, as memory storage of the medieval communtiy and finally as media, that not only served the transmission of new cults and festivities, but that also bare witness to their application in different types of religious communities and reveal the political, spiritual and intellectual ideas and intentions behind their dissemination. It is under this perspective that I explored eight extant martyrologies from the ecclesiastical province of Narbonne and their role in shaping of religious sensibilities in the Catalan region from the 10th to the 12th centuries in my PhD thesis. This approach to medieval martyrologies allows us to reconstruct the connections between religious institutions; to see what means were used for the dissemination of cults; to examine how the intertwined politics of religious and lay institutes lead to the implementation of certain feasts; and finally, to offer insight into the extent to which these feasts shaped and reflected the crucial ideas and thoughts of medieval society.

In 985, Al-Mansur’s devastating raid on Barcelona destroyed the city and numerous local religious institutions including the monastery of Sant Cugat del Vallès (Vallès Occidental). Torched by the raiders, the monastery’s archive was lost and Abbot Joan and several other monks were killed. Having originally petitioned King Lothair (956–986) sometime before his death for the ratification of the losses of the monastery, it took until 1002 for the new abbot Odo (986–1010) to receive a bull from Pope Sylvester confirming the free election of abbots, the monastery’s previous possessions and its direct dependency on the papacy. The spiritual and material restoration of the monastery was a significant undertaking that included re-establishing the ecclesiastical community as well as importing and compiling new liturgical books for the mass and the office. One such book was a martyrology, which survives today in a manuscript known as Sant Cugat Ms. 22, held in the Arxiu de la Corona d’Aragó.1

The eleventh-century manuscript contains the passions of martyrs organised in a typical calendar order that begins with the vigil for the Nativity of Christ, while the rest is comprised of St. Benedict’s rule, charters, lectionary and patristic texts.2 Almost all of these passions contain several important elements that provide us with key details about patterns that were crucial for the medieval mind in terms of remembering and venerating saints. For example, the feast day on February 19 (fol. 24r, XI Kl. Marcii) in this martyrology contains the following: “Romae, sancti Gabini presbyteri, patris beatissime Susanne qui a Diocleciano diu in custodia vinculis afflictus, preciosa morte celi gaudia comparavit”:

Sant Cugat Ms. 22, Folio 24r, in: Arxiu de la Corona d’Aragó, URL: [http://pares.mcu.es/ParesBusquedas20/catalogo/showimg/12831029].

These details often include the name of a martyr and his status (here presbyter St. Gabinus), spatial data (the geographical place of his/her martyrdom, here Rome), and sometimes temporal data (e.g. the name of a Roman emperor under whose rule a martyr was killed, here Diocletian). Over time, some of these martyrological entries were elaborated upon in order to add more historical information to the scarce text (here, for example, that St. Gabinus was St. Susanna’s father). This marked the birth of the historical martyrologies,3 which have long been seen as sources that inform us about their authors and contemporary thought, but similar questions can also be asked regarding their later copyists who diffused the martyrologies through different communities. Some of these questions have occupied me over the course of my doctoral studies, such as, what can we discern about why medieval authors and copyists chose particular saints and their stories to be part of their martyrological volumes? Exploring these questions sheds light on the conscious compilation of the historical martyrologies that blossomed from the ninth century onwards.

Promoted by the Carolingian councils that regulated regular and secular institutions, the martyrology became an essential liturgical book for every religious community. As such the reading of the martyrology ad capitulum became integrated into the Office of Prime, later called the Office of Chapter, which in turn led to the compilation of a special liturgical book – the Book of Chapter (or liber capituli).4 Incorporated into everyday liturgy, martyrologies were set together with the obituaries containing the names of the community’s members that had passed away. From the tenth to twelfth century, this burgeoning tradition saw more and more obituaries added to the main text of the martyrology. By correlating the veneration of the martyrs’ death (or their spiritual birth) with the deaths of members of the community, the martyrology became a tool for commemorating the dead through the diffusion of their memory, while simultaneously reconstructing and reinforcing the community of monks or canons.

Folio 29v from the Sant Cugat martyrology demonstrates what we can learn from these additions. On the feast day of March 20 (XIII Kl. Aprilis) “obiit Stephania femina et Arnallus laicus” is added and, further down on March 21 (XII Kl. Aprilis), one can read “obiit Arbertus monachus sancti Cucuphatis”:

Sant Cugat Ms. 22, Folio 29v, in: Arxiu de la Corona d’Aragó, URL: [http://pares.mcu.es/ParesBusquedas20/catalogo/showimg/12831323].

From this we learn not only the names of the monks, but also the names of lay people who apparently left bequests to the monastery.5 We can also observe that both male (Arnallus laicus) and female (Stephania femina) names are included in the obituary notes, revealing insights into the gendered aspects of religion and commemoration in eleventh-century medieval society. Notes such as this one also provide us with a strong indication of the nature of the community. It might be a monastery – in this case the monastery of Sant Cugat – or a congregation of monasteries as shown in another addition later in the same manuscript on folio 47r: “obierunt Remundus nostre congregationis monachus et Cesarius monachus”. This might be an indication of the congregation built in the 1090s around the monastery of Sant Cugat under Abbot Berenguer Folc (1091–1104), which included the monasteries of Sant Llorenç del Munt, Santa Cecília de Montserrat, Sant Salvador de Breda, Sant Pau de Camp and Santa Maria del Coll de Font-Rúbia. These small, easily missed additions communicate an extraordinary amount about the status and involvement of these members of religious institutions as well as the vast networks between the religious communities themselves.

In my doctoral research I also compared extant martyrologies in order to chart the arrival of new saints’ cults over the course of the Central Middle Ages, particularly as Catalan martyrologies have a lot of potential to shed light on the exchange of material and spiritual cultural heritage that has yet to be tapped. Sant Cugat Ms. 22 also contains several additions of universal feasts (or auctaria) which entered the main text of the martyrology either during its compilation or in the following decades. For example, the text for May 8 (VIII Id. Maii) starts with the celebration of the feast of Archangel Michael on Monte Gargano: “Apud montem Garganum inventio spelunce sancti Michaelis archangeli”:

Sant Cugat Ms. 22, Folio 43r, in: Arxiu de la Corona d’Aragó, URL: [http://pares.mcu.es/ParesBusquedas20/catalogo/showimg/12831323].

This feast, which is completely absent from ninth-century historical martyrologies, gained popularity in the tenth century and entered liturgical and hagiographical manuscripts in Italy, southern France and Catalonia throughout the eleventh century. The fact that the Sant Cugat martyrology included it in the main text and not in the margin bears witness to either an earlier copy that already contained this feast, or to the existing veneration of the Gargano cult in the region when the martyrology was compiled – or even to both. We know that the feast came from Apulia, possibly via Monte Cassino, to the monasteries of Sant Miquel de Cuixà and Santa Maria de Ripoll and the cathedral chapter of Vic. Its subsequent arrival in the monasteries of Sant Cugat del Vallès and Sant Llorenç del Munt can be explained by the general circulation of books and copyists in the Catalan region, but the contemporary atmosphere also encouraged its popularity. The veneration of St. Michael’s Gargano cult was a direct response to contemporary fears of foes like Al-Mansur. The function of the Archangel that developed in the Gargano legend emphasised his role as a healer and protector, defending the Christians from the “Other”, appealing directly to contemporaries because it promised them, at least spiritually, exactly what they needed. Thus, the auctaria reflect religious ideals, beliefs and their social reception in the Catalan region.

The martyrology can reveal many details about the life of religious communities and their place in medieval society in general. As they travelled across cultural borders, the feasts and cults expressed within them shaped the identities of religious communities they entered and transferred crucial political and spiritual ideas from one religious milieu to another. The agency of liturgical manuscripts in targeting various religious communities with essential messages thus points to these manuscripts as media which unified these communities throughout Christendom by shaping contemporaries’ knowledge of the world around them through history, geography and their place within the Christian world. The impressive variety of questions we can pose to the martyrology stresses its function as an essential medieval source for exploring the intellectual, social, spiritual and political backgrounds of religious communities and reaffirms the relevance of liturgical sources for understanding the ideals and beliefs of medieval people.


Further reading

Dubois, J., Les martyrologes du Moyen Âge latin, Turnhout, 1978 (Typologies des sources du Moyen Âge occidental, 26).

Étaix, R., ‘Quelques homéliaires de la región catalane’, Recherches Augustiniennes 16 (1981), 333-98.

Fàbrega Grau, À., ‘Gràcies de participacio in temporalibus et spiritualibus atorgades, als segles XIII i XIV, per abats de Sant Llorenç del Munt i de Sant Cugat de Vallès’, Analecta Montserratensia. Miscellanea A. M. Albareda 9 (1962), pp. 261-64.

Fàbrega Grau, À., ‘El necrologio de San Lorenzo de Munt’, Analecta Sacra Tarraconensia 20 (1947), 215-22.

Feliu Montfort, G., ‘Al-Mansur, Barcelona i Sant Cugat’, Acta Histórica et Archaeologica Mediaevalia 3 (1982), 45-54.

Freedman, P., The Diocese of Vic. Tradition and regeneration in medieval Catalonia (New Brunswick, 1983)

Freedman, P., ‘L’influence wisigothique sur l’Église catalane’, in L’Europe héritière de l’Espagne wisigothique, eds. J. Fontaine, C. Pellistrandi (Madrid, 1992), pp. 69-79.

Gaiffier, B., de, ‘De l’usage et de la lecture du martyrologe : Témoignages antérieurs au XIe siècle’, Analecta Bollandiana79 (1961), 40-59.

Hamilton, S., ‘Liturgy as History: The Origins of the Exeter Martyrology’, Traditio 74 (2019), 179-222.

Iglesias i Fonseca, J., ‘El ‘Martirologio’ de Adón en Cataluña. Consideraciones codicológicas y paleográficas sobre dos nuevos testimonios’, in Actas [del] III Congreso Hispánico de Latín Medieval (León, 26-29 de septiembre de 2002), ed. M. Pérez González, León, 2002, vol. 1, pp. 149-59.

Lemaitre, J.-L., ‘Un chanoine inculte ? Le copiste du martyrologe du chapitre cathédral de Béziers’, in Mediterraneo, Mezzogiorno, Europa : Studi Cosimo Damiano Fonseca, eds. G. Andenna, H. Houben, Bari, 2004, 677-89.

Id., ‘Liber capituli. Le livre du chapitre, des origines au XVIe siècle. L’exemple français’, in Memoria. Der geschichtliche Zeugniswert des liturgischen Gedenkens im Mittelalter, eds. K. Schmid, J. Wollasch, München, 1984, pp. 625-48. 

Id., ‘Nécrologes et obituaires. Une source privilégiée pour l’histoire des institutions ecclésiastiques et de la société au Moyen Age’, in Autour des livres, du nécrologe au martyrologe. Precamur fraternitatem vestram, Genève, 2019, pp. 101-18 [1st ed. 2004]

Le martyrologe d’Adon, ses deux familles, ses trois recensions, eds. J. Dubois, G. Renaud, Paris, 1984.

McCulloh, J., ‘Historical martyrologies in the Benedictine cultural tradition’, in Benedictine culture 7501050, eds. W. Lourdaux, D. Verhelst, Leuven, 1983, pp. 114-31.

Ordeig i Mata, R., ‘El culte de l’Arcàngel Sant Miquel a la Seu Episcopal de Vic (segles X–XI)’, Misceŀlània litúrgica catalana 27 (2019), 159-91.

Puigferrat i Oliva, C., ‘L’évolució interna del cenobi als segles XI–XII’, in Catalunya romànica 18. Vallès Occidental, Vallès Oriental (Barcelona, 1991), pp. 162-66.

Quentin, H., Les martyrologes historiques, Paris, 1908.

Serdá, L., ‘Los martirológicos de la Marca Hispanica en la evolución litúrgica de la misma’, Ausa 1 (1952-53), 387-89.

Vezin, J., ‘Problèmes de datation et de localisation des livres de l’office de Prime’, in Memoria. Der geschichtliche Zeugniswert des liturgischen Gedenkens im Mittelalter, eds. K. Schmid, J. Wollasch, München, 1984, pp. 613-24.


Photo: Sant Cugat Ms. 22, Folio 3v, in: Arxiu de la Corona d’Aragó, URL: [http://pares.mcu.es/ParesBusquedas20/catalogo/showimg/12830995].

  1. cf. Sant Cugat Ms. 22, in: Arxiu de la Corona d’Aragó, URL: [http://pares.mcu.es/ParesBusquedas20/catalogo/description/2334957]. []
  2. The manuscript of Sant Cugat consists of 178 folia, of which circa 130 folia contain the martyrology. It was later passed to the monastery of Sant Llorenç del Munt in the same province. []
  3. The most famous among them being the martyrologies of Ado and Usuard compiled under the Carolingians in the ninth century. []
  4. This included the martyrology, the obituary, the rule, the lectionary and several more treatises and tracts. []
  5. Though in some cases they might have also been “Levitae”, or lay canons, which was a frequent phenomenon in eleventh-century Catalan cathedral chapters. []