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Schlagwort: Crown of Aragon

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.

Muslims and Lords in Medieval Iberia

Clara Almagro Vidal, Universidad Nacional de Educación a Distancia (UNED)

Abstract: The research project “Muslims in Signorial lands: an Integrative Perspective in Medieval Iberia” (for further information visit: https://www.socriem.es/mutis/) not only aims to detect the administrative and territorial framing of Muslim communities in Christian Iberia, but also seeks to analyse the relations between Muslims and their lords in both a legal and organisational framework. With this contribution project member Clara Almagro Vidal offers a close-up look of the project and shares some preliminary results.

Although they were theoretically part of the treasure of the Christian kings in medieval Iberia, Muslims often lived in lands that were not under Royal jurisdiction throughout the Middle Ages. The presence of Muslim communities in signorial lands within the Christian kingdoms of medieval Iberia is of great interest for the study of this religious minority because it reflects an overlapping of jurisdictional spheres of a different nature depending on the type of lordship and the conditions under which the lands were given the lords. These lordships, whether nobiliary, ecclesiastical, municipal or of any other type, formed an element of distortion for the exercise of royal authority, fragmenting its capacity to act and generating, through the exercise of its unequal prerogatives, a wide range of circumstances that determined the life of Muslims in these areas.

Moreover, although not exclusively, Muslims were often settled in rural communities or located in small population centres that did not become fully urban. Areas with these characteristics have traditionally received less interest in historiography.

The research project Muslims in Signorial lands: an Integrative Perspective in Medieval Iberia, funded by the Regional Government of Madrid through its programme for talent attraction (2020-T1/HUM-20291), was born from the awareness of the relevance of this phenomenon and the gap in existing scholarship.

The researchers involved in the project are focusing on a number of points of interest: Detecting forms of administrative and territorial framing of communities on manorial lands; Analysing relations between Muslims and their lords and the effects of the overlapping of different jurisdictional spheres, both at the individual and collective level; and explore the impact that the two previous points had in the internal organisation of these communities, including the characteristics and attributions of the officials and governing bodies of the Muslim community, the functioning of obligations towards the Christians and towards themselves, and relations with the Christian authorities.

Although the project is still underway, some provisional findings are coming to light. For one, the strategies used by lords show significant similarities across the Crowns of Castile and Aragon. For another, Muslims were perceived as valuable dependents, whose permanence was often sought and even a point of contention between lords. Moreover, the unstable balance and struggles for power between the various Christian authorities had an obvious impact on Muslims. At times, Muslims were key elements in the entrenchment and legitimisation of signiorial power, and at others they were reduced to pawns affected by the ambitions of the various Christian actors. Observation of the multiple manifestations of lordship allows us to identify the different factors at play at each moment and their relative weight.

Selected Bibliography

Almagro Vidal, Clara. “Grammars of Dependence. A Historical Semantics Approach to Population Charters Granted by Military Orders to Muslims in Medieval Iberia”, Österreiche Zeitschrift für Geschichte, 34-2 (2023), pp. 105-124. https://doi.org/10.25365/oezg-2023-34-2-6

Almagro Vidal, Clara (ed.), Musulmanes y señores en la Edad Media Peninsular, Monographic issue in Espacio, Tiempo y Forma: Edad Media, 37 (2024), pp. 15-204. https://doi.org/10.5944/etfiii.37.2024

Moreno Moreno, Yolanda, “El negocio de mantener una aljama musulmana en tierras de señorío. El caso de Talavera de la Reina”, Musulmanes y señores en la Edad Media Peninsular, Número monográfico en Espacio, Tiempo y Forma: Edad Media, 37 (2024), pp.145-166. https://doi.org/10.5944/etfiii.37.2024.38802

García de Gea, Jorge Ángel, “Musulmanes al servicio de la nobleza: fuentes testamentarias bajomedievales”, Musulmanes y señores en la Edad Media Peninsular, Número monográfico en Espacio, Tiempo y Forma: Edad Media, 37 (2024), pp.63-90. https://doi.org/10.5944/etfiii.37.2024.39113

Photo: Ceiling of the chapel in Mesones de Isuela castle (Zaragoza), Clara Almagro Vidal (15.07.2024).

Courts and Craftspeople in the Late Medieval Crown of Aragón

Eva-Maria Cersovsky, Universität zu Köln

Abstract: The research project outlined in this contribution aims at offering new insights into an important but underexplored group of actors at late medieval royal courts by putting craftspeople at the centre of analysis. It takes the courts of the kings and queens of the Crown of Aragón as its focus to investigate the multifaceted relationships they formed with artisans from the end of the thirteenth to the beginning of the fifteenth century. The project pursues three main objectives: First, it explores and compares the forms of affiliation, the status, tasks, functions, material resources, and working conditions of the many different artisans serving the royal households. Second, it examines the role of courts as spaces of artisanal training, production and knowledge, cooperation and competition. Third, it illuminates the activities of craftspeople in-between courtly and civic environments. The project’s findings thus promise to foster a better understanding of artisans’ economic and social interactions with royal households, while also offering new perspectives for studying court economy and court culture.

Late medieval courts attracted a wide variety of different craftspeople.1 Numerous experts specialising in the food, wood, metal, or textile crafts were commissioned by princely and royal households to create products of various kinds. It is well known that medieval rulers both acquired large quantities of artisanal luxury objects and needed countless craft products for everyday use. Noble patrons, courtly material culture, and patterns of consumption have been at the focus of historical scholarship for quite some time. However, to date, only a few historians have attempted to put artisans, the makers of courtly objects, at the centre of monographic studies in order to systematically determine the multifaceted work-related and social relationships they formed with late medieval courts.

My book project (Habilitation), still in its early stages and tentatively outlined in the following, aims at filling this gap by taking the late medieval courts of the kings and queens of the Crown of Aragón as its focus. The Aragonese courts hold particular potential for the study of craftspeople since they did not only constitute important political and social centres formed around a ruler but were also dynamic economic and cultural hubs within the Mediterranean, attracting various people from different social and religious groups, regions, and cultures. They employed, to just name a few examples, Catalan bakers, French tailors, or German goldsmiths, Jewish candle makers, Muslim construction workers, or Christian carpenters in a variety of different institutional affiliations and socio-economic interdependencies. Some artisans also performed services for queens and kings that went beyond their specific craft, such as buying goods for the royal household, joining diplomatic missions, or functioning as administrators involved in the foundation of monasteries or the overseeing of royal mills. These ways in which different craftspeople were connected to the kings’ and queens’ courts economically and socially have yet to be studied in a comprehensive and comparative approach, as has the question of how royal courts functioned as sites of artisanal production, collaboration, and knowledge – with both patrons and craftspeople as active participants.

Since the courts of the Crown of Aragón are documented exceptionally well, especially from the thirteenth century onwards, it is possible to trace such questions in a wide variety of sources, mainly housed in the Arxiu de la Corona d’Aragó in Barcelona. The project will, for example, draw on court ceremonials characterising court personnel and their duties as well as on various household accounts that document payments to artisans holding court offices and to many other craftspeople for commissions of differing nature, often including detailed descriptions of the final products and their materials. It will also utilize a small number of account books written by the artisans themselves which have survived in the royal archives, and make use of the numerous royal chancellery registers documenting contracts, letters, privileges granted to artisans, or recommendations of specific craftspeople to other institutions. Additionally, I will employ inventories which list objects in varying detail and frequently mention who created them, where they were made, and/or – in the case of objects in relation to specific court offices – who used and took care of them.

Seeing the quantity and variety of available sources, the project’s main focus is on a ‘long fourteenth century’, from the reign of James II (1291–1327) to the reign of Martin I (1396–1410). This period also holds an important place within scholarly discussions on how artisans’ relationships to courts developed over time, both in the Crown of Aragón and other regions. These debates concern, for instance, the perception and status of craftspeople as ‘artisans’ or ‘artists’, the inclusion of artisans into the circle of royal familiares, or the emergence of new legal and institutional forms of ‘court craft’ (‘Hofhandwerk’) or ‘court art (‘Hofkunst’) and their position between court and city.

Contributing to these discussions and expanding the state of research, the project adopts a multifaceted, comparative approach. It employs the terms ‘craftspeople’ and ‘artisans’ in a broad sense to grasp and include not only renowned individuals but all people who used their hands and tools to produce, repair, or redesign products, including food as well as objects made from different materials. It also starts from the written documentation and not from objects or architecture still present today. This way, the project seeks to make a systematic effort at both establishing and comparing the variety of craftspeople connected to Aragonese courts, thereby bridging the common division between groups of different objects, materials, and/or artisans. Furthermore, it focuses on both the kings’ and the queens’ households over a longer period of time to delineate similarities and differences in the artisanal personnel serving them. As first case studies suggest, this approach promises to yield fruitful results regarding the activities, status, and career options of craftspeople working across different courts. Following this general methodological framework, the project has three main objectives that build on one another:

First, it seeks to investigate which artisans were integrated into the courts’ economic and social networks and in what ways, including how these connections were formed in the first place. Answering these questions involves inquiries into the social backgrounds, status, tasks, functions, working conditions, material resources, and careers of different craftspeople serving royal courts. Without pursuing the goal of a detailed prosopography or comprehensive network analysis, the available, relevant personal data concerning the artisans will be collected in a database, which will then form the basis for more detailed case studies on a selected number of individual craftspeople and groups of artisans. Moreover, approaching the different types of connections between craftspeople and courts necessitates semantic analyses, for example, regarding the (variable and shifting) meanings connected to titles of court offices, such as panicer, or denominations like de la casa de la senyora reyna/ del senyor rey.

Second, the project aims at analysing how royal courts functioned as spaces of artisanal production and knowledge, cooperation and competition. This includes questions on forms of training and the transmission of knowledge, on artisanal migration and interreligious collaborations and/or conflicts. Understanding artisans working for the Aragonese courts as experts possessing specialized knowledge and skills to understand, (re-)design, and invent things, I will build on the insights of both art historical research and studies on material culture to examine repositories of knowledge connected to objects, practices, and their textual representations, such as descriptions in account books and inventories. By examining experts from different regions and religious groups gathered at Aragonese courts, the project will also draw on concepts of ‘cultural brokerage’ and discuss whether artisans can be conceived as ‘brokers’ even if their primary aim might not have been cultural mediation as such.

Third, the research project seeks to illuminate the interplay between courtly and urban craft production and the positions of artisans in-between courts and cities – spaces with permeable boundaries. Exploring these aspects brings into focus, for example, the use of urban infrastructure, the role of artisanal court personnel as intermediaries hiring additional workers, or the existence of royal privileges obtained by individuals or craft groups regulating their status in relation to civic norms and institutions. Choosing one or two cities with royal residences as case studies, such as Barcelona, València, or Zaragoza, this part of the project also tentatively aims at including civic sources. Municipal ordinances, the documentation of confraternities and guilds, inventories, and other notarial documents help trace the activities of artisans in urban contexts and may also be used to conduct further prosopographical research on the identities of selected craftspeople. These sources, however, will mostly be consulted after the examination of the royal documentation.

Based on rich source material and building on insights as well as approaches of interdisciplinary scholarship, the project thus seeks to foster a better understanding of craftspeople as an important but underexplored group of actors connected to late medieval courts within the Crown of Aragón. Its findings promise to shed new light on artisans’ economic and social agency in the context of royal households and to offer new perspectives on both court economy and court culture.

Selected Bibliography

Antenhofer, Christina: Inventories as Texts and Artefacts. Methodological Approaches and Challenges. In: Österreichische Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaften 32,3 (2021), pp. 7–46.

Aymerich Bassols, Montserrat: Jaume Copí, un brodador flamenc al servei de la familia reial: de Pere el Cerimoniós a Violant de Bar i Maria de Luna. In: Terés Tomàs, Maria Rosa (ed.): Catalunya i l’Europa septentrional a l’entorn de 1400. Circulació de mestres, obres i models artístics. Rome 2016 (IRCVM Medieval Cultures 5), pp. 15–52.

Beauchamp, Alexandra (ed.): Les entourages princiers à la fin du Moyen âge: une approche quantitative. Textes issus de la journée d’études organisée à l’Université de Limoges avec la Casa de Velázquez, 6 novembre 2009. Madrid 2013 (Collection de la Casa de Velázquez 134).

Campbell, Stephen John (ed.): Artists at Court: Image-Making and Identity 1300–1550. Chicago 2004.

Córdoba de la Llave, Ricardo: Los oficios medievales. Tecnología, producción, trabajo. Madrid 2017 (Temas de historia medieval 7).

Cosmen Alonso, María Concepción/ Herráez Ortega, María Victoria/ Pellón Gómez de Rueda, Adela María (eds.): El intercambio artístico entre los reinos hispanos y las cortes europeas en la baja Edad Media. León 2009.

Domenge Mesquida, Joan: Argenters i marxants de “coses de grans preus” a la cort d’Aragô (ca. 1380–1420). In: Brouquet, Sophie/ García Marsilla, Juan Vicente (ed.): Mercados del lujo, mercados del arte. El gusto de las elites mediterráneas en los siglos XIV y XV. València 2015, pp. 349–356.

Eichberger, Dagmar/ Lorentz, Philippe/ Tacke, Andreas (eds.): The Artist between Court and City (1300–1600) / L’artiste entre la Cour et la Ville / Der Künstler zwischen Hof und Stadt. Petersberg 2017.

Español Bertran, Francesca:   L’art dels reis catalans: esplendor i riquesa de la Corona d’Aragó. Barcelona 2010 (Arts 2).

Füssel, Marian/ Rexroth, Frank/ Schürmann, Inga (eds.): Praktiken und Räume des Wissens: Expertenkulturen in Geschichte und Gegenwart. Göttingen 2019.

García Marsilla, Juan Vicente: Maestros de ultramar: artistas italianos y franceses al servicio de la monarquía aragonesa (siglos XIV–XV). In: Narbona Vizcaíno, Rafael (ed.): La Mediterrània de la Corona d’Aragó, segles XIII–XVI & VII Centenari de la Sentència Arbitral de Torrellas, 1304–2004. XVIII Congrés d’Història de la Corona d’Aragó, València 2004, 9–14 setembre. Vol. 2. València 2005, pp. 1907–1922.

Jaspert, Nikolas: Mendicants, Jews and Muslims at Court in the Crown of Aragon: Social Practice and Inter-Religious Communication. In: von der Höh, Marc/ Jaspert, Nikolas/ Oesterle, Jenny Rahel (eds.): Cultural Brokers at Mediterranean Courts in the Middle Ages. Paderborn 2013 (Mittelmeerstudien 1), pp. 107–148.

Molina Castellà, Anna: L’argenter de la Casa del Senyor Rei: una distinció laboral de prestigi. In: Yarza Luaces, José Joaquín (ed.): L’Artista-artesà medieval a la Corona d’Aragó. Lleida 1999, pp. 365–383.

Molina Figueras, Joan: Gli artisti del re nel Trecento aragonese. In: Donato, Maria Monica (ed.): L’artista medievale. Atti del convegno internazionale di studi, Modena, 17–19 Novembre 1999. Pisa 2008 (Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, Classe di Lettere e Filosofia. Quaderni 4, 16.2003), pp. 193–213.

Mutgé i Vives, Josefina: Artesanos barceloneses al servicio de Alfonso el Benigno (1327–1336). In: Aragón en la edad media 19 (2006), pp. 407–416.

Povill Salas, Marina: El arte como herramienta de poder durante el reinado de Jaime II el justo (1291–1327). Las cuatro etapas de su política artística. In: Bargalló Escrivà, Maria (ed.): Recerca en humanitas 2021. Tarragona 2022, pp. 153–170.

Schadek, Hans: Die Familiaren der aragonesischen Könige des 14. und beginnenden 15. Jahrhunderts. In: Spanische Forschungen der Goerresgesellschaft – Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Kulturgeschichte Spaniens 32 (1988), pp. 1–148.

Smith, Pamela H.: From Lived Experience to the Written Word: Reconstructing Practical Knowledge in the Early Modern World. Chicago 2022.

Schulz, Knut: Fremde (Kunst-)Handwerker, Gewerbegruppen und Bedienstete an der päpstlichen Kurie (ca. 1400–1527). In: Jamme, Armand/ Poncet, Olivier (eds.): Offices et papauté (XIVe–XVIIe siècle): Charges, hommes, destins. Rome 2005 (Collection de l’École Française de Rome 334), pp. 197-213.

Terés Tomàs, Maria Rosa/ Vicens, Teresa: Violant de Bar i Maria de Castella: promoció espiritual i mecenatge/ Violant de Bar and Maria of Castile: Spiritual Promotion and Artistic Patronage. Barcelona 2015 (Lliçons 6).

Warnke, Martin: The Court Artist: On the Ancestry of the Modern Artist. New York et al. 1993 (Ideas in Context 28).

Photo: December Calendar Page, Baking Bread, in: Psalter by an unknown artist/ maker, mid-1200s, Bruges (possibly), Belgium, in: The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, Ms. 14 (85.MK.239), fol. 8v (Detail). Digital image courtesy of the Getty’s Open Content Program, URL: [https://www.getty.edu/art/collection/object/105TRQ] (03.07.2024).

  1. References to some publications relevant to the project can be found in a selected bibliography at the end of the contribution. [↩]

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. [↩]

“Desperta, ferres, desperta” – Die Katalanische Kompanie als (militärischer) Akteur im östlichen Mittelmeer

Winand Tremmel, Justus-Liebig-Universität Gießen / SFB 138 „Dynamiken der Sicherheit“

Abstract: By defeating the Duke of Athens in the Battle of Halmyros (1311), the Catalan Company gained control over a vast territory in Greece. Thus, the group transitioned from a roaming band of mercenaries to an established elite within a duchy. While historical research has highlighted the role and value of mercenary companies throughout history, it has often separated the status of military formation and territorial elite. However, it was the ability to enact violence, which made the Catalan Company successful. To wage war was the means by which they secured their existence and power. And this ability was as important during their reign over Athens as it was before.

Iberome.Tremmel.03.05.2024_English

Zusammenfassung: Durch den Sieg über den Herzog von Athen in der Schlacht von Halmyros (1311) erlangte die Katalanische Kompanie die Kontrolle über ein ausgedehntes Territorium in Griechenland. Damit wandelte sich die Gruppe von einer umherziehenden Söldnerbande zur mächtigen Elite eines Herzogtums. Die historische Forschung hat zwar die Rolle und den Wert von Söldnerkompanien im Laufe der Geschichte hervorgehoben, aber sie hat den Status dieser militärischen Formation und der territorialen Elite häufig getrennt. Aber: Es war die Fähigkeit Gewalt auszuüben, welche die Katalanische Kompanie erfolgreich machte. Krieg zu führen war der Weg, mit dem sie sich ihre Existenz und ihre Macht sicherte. Eine solche Befähigung legte sie als Herrscher von Athen nicht ab, sondern bediente sich ihrer weiterhin.

In gängigen Darstellungen von mittelalterlichen Schlachten und Belagerungen stehen oft glanzvolle und prächtige Ritterheere im Mittelpunkt. Allerdings spielten auch bezahlte Soldaten eine entscheidende Rolle als Teil der regulären Streitkräfte. Auf dem Schlachtfeld ergänzten sie die feudalen Aufgebote und stellten meist spezialisierte Infanteriekontingente.1 Das Spätmittelalter zählt zu den Epochen, in denen das Söldnerwesen die Kriegsführung besonders beeinflusste. In Konflikten wie dem 100-jährigen Krieg oder den Auseinandersetzungen in Oberitalien war die Nachfrage nach erfahrenen und gut ausgerüsteten Söldnerkompanien hoch. Durch die Überlieferung einer umfangreichen Chronik von Ramon Muntaner ist auch der Werdegang einer Einheit aus dem Königreich Aragon erhalten.2 Diese sogenannte Katalanische Kompanie ist ein Zeugnis für die dynamische und oft prekäre Situation von Söldnergruppen im Spätmittelalter.3

Odyssee im östlichen Mittelmeerraum

Die Kompanie entstand im tumultartigen politischen Umfeld des 14. Jahrhunderts auf Sizilien. Anhand ihrer Organisation lassen sich verschiedenste Aspekte von spätmittelalterlichem Kriegertum greifen.4 Im Zuge dessen sind ihre Zusammensetzung und Kampfweise von Interesse gewesen. Zusätzlich sind teilweise die biographischen Hintergründe ihrer adeligen Anführer, Männer wie Roger de Flor oder Berenguer de Entença, untersucht worden. Sie mussten nicht nur ihren Wert als kämpfende Truppe wiederholt unter Beweis stellen, sondern auch das ökonomische, logistische und diplomatische Geschick ihrer Hauptmänner. Ihr Gründer Roger de Flor nutzte die Unsicherheiten im byzantinischen Reich geschickt aus, um sich eine einflussreiche Position am Hof und eine erste Soldanstellung für die Kompanie zu sichern. In mehreren Feldzügen durch Anatolien demonstrierte die Kompanie ihre Fähigkeiten, ehe sie sich gegen ihre ehemaligen Soldgeber durchsetzen musste. In Folge der Ermordung Roger de Flors auf Befehl Kaiser Andronikos II., mussten die Söldner ihr eigenes Überleben auf nun feindlichem Territorium sichern. Als sie den Dienst beim Herzog von Athen, Walter V. von Brienne, antrat, hoffte man die unsichere Position der Kompanie in Anatolien zu verbessern. Der Herzog erhielt im Austausch dafür eine jahrelang im Kampf erprobte Einheit. Walter V. von Brienne, ermutigt durch die befriedete Situation entschied sich dann allerdings gegen die Kompanie: „E, com ell veé que hac pau ab tots sos veïns, pensà’s una gran malaventura, ço és, que pogués la company destrovir.”5 In der Schlacht von Halmyros 1311 strebte der Herzog daher die Auflösung der Söldnerkompanie an. Allerdings gelang es dieser, auf Grund ihrer Erfahrung und taktischen Überlegenheit, das athenische Heer zu schlagen. Der Herzog und ein Großteil seiner adeligen Ritter fielen und der Weg war geebnet für den Antritt einer neuen, nun katalanisch-aragonesischen Herrschaft.

Eine Gemeinschaft der Gewalt

Gemeinschaften wie die Katalanische Kompanie spezialisierten sich auf die Gewaltausübung als existenzsicherndes Mittel. In der jüngeren militärhistorischen Forschung wurden solche Gruppen daher als Gewaltgemeinschaften bezeichnet.6 Blickt man auf die Funktionen und internen Strukturen von Gewaltgemeinschaften, so findet sich ein komplexes Netz an Fähig- und Fertigkeiten, die den langfristigen Erhalt der Kompanie sichern sollten. Durch ihre ständige Interaktion mit Waffen garantierten sie den Erfolg in der Schlacht und auf dem Söldnermarkt. Ebenso besaß die Kompanie dadurch ein Druckpotential gegenüber ihren Soldgebern, welches sie nutzen konnte, um selbst Anforderungen zu stellen.7 Daneben stehen eindeutigere Aktionen, die das Überleben sicherten, wie zum Beispiel die Versorgung mit Lebensmitteln und Materialien. Oftmals bedeutete die Suche nach Proviant Schaden und Leid für die umliegende Bevölkerung.8 Die Auswirkungen waren stellenweise so verheerend, dass die Kompanie 1308 ihre eigene Position aufgeben musste, da sie Gallipoli so gründlich ausgeplündert hatte: „(…) e així mateix havíem deshabitada tota aquella encontrada a deu jornades de totes parts, que havíem tota la gent consumada, sí que res no s’hi collia; per què covenia per força que desemparássem aquell país.“9 Mittels Raubzügen und Plünderungen schufen die Kompaniemitglieder eine finanzielle Grundlage, die auch der Versorgung ihrer mitgezogenen Familien diente. Selbst in ihren diplomatischen Bemühungen, sprich den Soldverträgen, spiegeln sich Handlungen der Gewalt wider. Immerhin handelt es sich dabei um die Suche nach legitimierter Gewaltausübung als Soldaten. All diese Dynamiken legten sie nicht ab, als sie zu Landesherren Athens wurden.

Von Kontinuitäten und Brüchen

Probleme finanzieller und versorgungstechnischer Art waren in großen Teilen durch die regelmäßigen Abgaben der Bevölkerung gedeckt worden. Zusätzlich gehörten zur militärischen Absicherung auch weiterhin das Training und die Instandhaltung der eigenen Ausrüstung. Ebenso musste sich die Kompanie im neuen politischen Kontext situieren und behaupten. Bereits vor der Zeit in Athen hatte sich die Katalanische Kompanie mit verschiedenen Machthabern verbünden, zumindest aber gut stellen müssen. Nach 1311 nutze sie Bündnisse, um ihre strategische Position weiter zu sichern. So kam es beispielsweise zu einem langfristigen Bund mit den Venezianern und einigen türkischen Verbänden.10 Man setzte auf die Kompanie als Räuber entlang der adriatischen Küsten im Austausch für lukrative Handelsbeziehungen. Die Raubzüge ermöglichten daneben nachgefragte Waren zu erbeuten: Sklaven, Vieh und Wertgegenstände weckten weiterhin die Begierde der Kompaniemitglieder.11 Damit war aber weiterhin die Ausübung von Gewalt das hauptsächliche Instrument zur eigenen Machterhaltung.

Darüber hinaus erlangte die Kompanie 1318 durch ihre Unterwerfung unter das Haus Barcelona eine notwendige Legitimität sowie Schutz und Unterstützung des sizilianischen Königshauses, wenn auch in erster Linie nur theoretisch. Der Gemeinschaft gelang es damit vor allem, ihre bisherigen territorialen Gewinne abzusichern: (…) non minuendo aliquem de eodem exercitu de hiis que usque ad presentem diem acquisiverit, tenant et possident in ducatu Athenarum (…).12 Durch diese Regelungen war sichergestellt, dass die Kompanie zwar eine neue Rolle einnahm, aber als Verband intakt blieb. Die Söldner begründeten ihren Wert als Gemeinschaft durch die Ausübung von Gewalt. Aber auch ihr Wert als Elite des Herzogtums begründete sich durch diese besonderen Fähigkeiten. Mithilfe von Gewalt errang die Kompanie diese Herrschaft und mit ihrer Hilfe sollte es ihr auch möglich sein, diese bis 1388 zu erhalten. Nach 1311 war sie in verschiedenste militärische Kampagnen verwickelt und sie erweiterte ihre Herrschaft sogar um Gebiete auf der Negroponte. Beendet war mit dem Herrschaftsantritt erstmal nur die Phase der (un)sicheren Soldanstellungen. Diese Darstellung unterstreicht die Kontinuität von Gewalt als zentralen Aspekt ihrer Identität, selbst als sie Positionen mit politischem Einfluss übernahm.

Photo: Soldiers of the army of King Jaume I, detail from the murals in the former Palau Reial Major in Barcelona, second half of the thirteenth century (Museu d’`Història de la Ciutat, Barcelona).

  1. Curry, Anne: Foreign Soldiers in the English Pay. Identity and Unity in the Armies of the English Crown 1415-1450, in: Pépin, Guilhelm/ Lainé, Francoise/ Boutoulle, Frédéric (Hrsg.): Routiers et mercenaires pendant la guerre de Cent ans, Bordeaux 2016, S. 303-316, S. 304. [↩]
  2. Crònica de Ramon Muntaner (Les Quatre Grans Cròniques 3), herausgegeben von Ferran Soldevila, Revisió Filològica de Jordi Bruguera, Revisió històrica de Maria Terese Ferrer i Mallol, Barcelona 2011. [↩]
  3. Die Bezeichnung „Katalanische Kompanie“ sollte dabei durchaus kritisch betrachtet werden, denn (1) war die Kompanie mit einer wahrscheinlichen Größe von knapp 6000 Mann besonders groß und überschreitet damit den zeitgenössischen Umfang einer entsprechenden Einheit und (2) setzte sich die Kompanie zu Beginn zwar noch aus Männern aus dem katalanisch-aragonesischen Kernland zusammen, erhielt aber mehrfach Zuwachs, unter anderem durch türkische Reiterverbände. Sie ist also keine rein katalanische Gruppe geblieben. [↩]
  4. Sablonier, Krieg und Kriegertum in der Crònica des Ramon Muntaner. Eine Studie zum spätmittelalterlichen Kriegswesen aufgrund katalanischer Quellen (Geist und Werk der Zeiten 31), Bern/Frankfurt 1971; Burns, Robert I.: The Catalan Company and the European Powers 1305-1311, in: Ders. (Hrsg.): Moors and Crusaders in Mediterranean Spain. Collected Studies (Collected Studies Series 73), London 1978, S. 751-771. [↩]
  5. Crònica de Ramon Muntaner, S. 397. [↩]
  6. Speitkamp, Winfried (Hrsg.): Gewaltgemeinschaften in der Geschichte. Entstehung, Kohäsionskraft und Zerfall, Göttingen 2017, S. 27. [↩]
  7. Sie nutzte hiermit letztlich Sorgen und Ängste der Soldgeber geschickt aus, siehe Kyriakidis, Savvas: The Employment of Large Groups of Mercenaries in Byzantium in the Period ca. 1290-1305 as Viewed by the Sources, in: Byzantion 79 (2009), S. 208-230, S. 214. [↩]
  8. Georges Pachymérès. Relations historiques (Bd. 4), herausgegeben von Albert Failler, Paris 1999, S. 433 und 459-461. [↩]
  9. Crònica de Ramon Muntaner, S. 380. [↩]
  10. Diplomatari de l’Orient Català (1301-1409). Collecció de Documents per a la História de l’Expedició Catalana a Orient i els Ducats d’Atenes i Neopàtria, herausgegeben von Antoni Rubio i Lluch, Barcelona 1947, CIX. [↩]
  11. Beispielhaft in Marcos Hierro, Ernest: The Catalan Company and the Slave Trade, in: Amitai, Reuven/ Cluse, Christoph (Hrsg.): Slavery and the Slave Trade in the Eastern Mediterranean (c. 1000-1500ce) (Mediterranean Nexus 5), Turnhout 2018, S. 321-352. [↩]
  12. Diplomatari de l’Orient Català, LII, S. 68. [↩]

Tailored Terms – Catalan and Genoese maritime predators in Venetian words 

Laurin Herberich, Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg

Zusammenfassung: Heutzutage verfügen wir über eine Fülle von Begriffen, mit denen wir uns dem mittelalterlichen Phänomen der Seeräuberei nähern können. Von ‚Korsar‘ über ‚Seeräuber‘ bis hin zu ‚Pirat‘ ist alles dabei. Aber wie nannten die Menschen, die fast täglich mit maritimen Raubüberfällen zu tun hatten, ihre Plagegeister? Um sich diesem umfangreichen Thema zu nähern, ist Laurin Herberich in den Ozean des Archivio di Stato di Venezia eingetaucht. In diesem Beitrag stellt er eine Studie zur spätmittelalterlichen Terminologie vor, die auf zwei katalanischen und einem genuesischen Fall von Seeraub aus dem ersten Viertel des 15. Jahrhunderts basiert.

Iberome.Herberich.07.06.2023_Deutsch

Abstract: Nowadays we find ourselves sitting on a treasure trove of terms with which to approach the medieval phenomenon of maritime predation. From ‘corsair’ to ‘sea robber’ to ‘pirate’ we have it all. But how did the people dealing with maritime predation on a near-daily basis call their nuisances? To approach this vast topic Laurin Herberich took a dip in the ocean that is the Archivio di Stato di Venezia. In this paper he presents a study of late medieval terminology based on two Catalan and one Genoese case of maritime predation from the first quarter of the fifteenth century.

In winter 1416 the Catalan Nicolas Sampier robbed the vessel of Venetian Nicolaus Lombardo in the upper Levant.1 Not being satisfied yet, he went on to rob two further Venetian vessels of Acre shortly before 8 May 1417.2 Still not having had enough Sampier tried his luck again in early July 1417, but was captured by the captain of the Venetian Beirut galley convoy.3 Not only had he caused damages on the order of 14,333 ducats total,4 but he had also done so without the approval of his licensor, the Hospitaller Order.5 Nowadays we would probably be comfortable calling him a ‘pirate’. Not less ‘piratical’ seem the actions of another Catalan, Moysius Servente. In late July 1423 he robbed a Venetian vessel in the harbour of Rhodes.6 There Servente proceeded to detain the Venetian merchants on their ship for several days, while he and his crew carried goods to their own vessels and even sold them to bystanders.7 The audacity to steal around 4,649 ducats worth of goods for all of Rhodes to see seems pretty swashbuckling and would certainly make Servente a ‘pirate’ in our book.8 Similarly ‘piratical’ seem the incidents that the Genoese Antonio Gentil was responsible for. Sometime in early 1402 he took advantage of the still chaotic situation in the Levant following Timur’s capture of Damascus and treated himself and his crew to 18 tons of cotton from the Venetian magazines in Tripoli, worth roughly 2,075 ducats.9 But robbing Venetians went against the provisions of his Genoese predation license and so Gentil was told to compensate the damages.10 Instead, only two months after avoiding payment, he was out for booty again, this time in Rhodes harbour. On 25 November 1402 he plundered the vessel of Venetian Francesco Pampano taking goods worth around 1,000 ducats.11 Gentil was definitely aware of the illegality of his actions, because he was transporting Genoese envoys, who not only tried to stop him, but also sent complaints to Genoa and Venice.12

So what did their employers and the Venetian senate have to say about these three who fulfill popular modern criteria for being ‘pirates’. In the case of Nicolas Sampier, his employer, the Hospitaller Order, referred to him as someone who caused ‘damna’ or ‘damages’.13 Internal Venetian documents called Sampier a ‘pirata’ or ‘cursarius’ 19 times instead.14 The copious internal use of these fitting terms is even surpassed by the 28 times Venetian envoys used them when negotiating with the Hospitallers.15

Judging from Sampier’s case, one would expext the senate to be no less vocally upset about Moysius Servente. And indeed, in one internal document the senate called him a ‘pirata’ two times.16 Externally Venice seems to have been more reserved, resorting to the seemingly tamer ‘derobator’ five times in four documents.17 Interestingly, Venice’s tone changed drastically once it decided that the monarch of the Crown of Aragon should be paying for Servente’s misdeeds and that the Hospitallers should help them get said restitution.18 After that Venice did not stray far from the words of Servente’s king, Alfons V,19 which were more neutral. Like the Hospitallers had done with Sampier, Alfons described Servente as someone who caused ‘damna’.20

In the case of Antonio Gentil his Genoese employers described him alternately as the patron of a galley or,21 like the Hospitallers and Alfons V before them, as someone who caused damages.22 Looking at it from the internal Venetian perspective, one notes that Gentil is called a ‘pirata’ twice.23 Looking at the external Venetian correspondence with Genoa instead, it is surprising that he is not once called ‘pirata’. The maximum amount of naughtiness Venice is willing to engage in when negotiating with Genoa is calling Gentil a version of ‘derobator’ eight times in five of 14 documents.24 Compared with Sampier’s 25 ‘pirata’ and three ‘cursarius’ in all five pieces of external correspondence, Gentil really seems to have been let off the hook. Furthermore, the longer the negotiations took the more the senate seems to have wanted to get on Genoa’s good side, as is indicated by the initially timid but in the end almost generous use of euphemisms for Gentil’s deeds.25

Three patterns catch the eye. First it seems like ‘pirata’ was a naughty word. In all three cases it was used internally, but externally only in the case of Sampier. Second, the Venetians seem to have changed their terminology depending on their audience. Only Sampier was ‘out’ as a ‘pirate’, while Gentil and Servente were called ‘pirata’ only behind closed doors. Looking at the Servente case, we find that the senate switched terminology even while negotiating the same case. Third, faced with certain maritime powers like Genoa, the Venetian senate was even willing to use euphemisms for what was according to an eyewitness “a violent robbery”.26 So why did Venice mince its words in these three patterns to let Servente and Gentil off the hook and ‘out’ only Sampier as a ‘pirata’?

Looking at the larger contexts of each case, it all seems to have come down to power and evidence. If Venice had superior power and evidence, say, because the other maritime power was not as capable and also vulnerable to a bad reputation because it relyed on donations and papal approval, like the Hospitallers,27 and on top of that, the Venetian senate was in possession of not only the alleged ‘pirate’ but also his ‘predation license’,28 Venice employed pressure strategies to get its restitution. These included in the case of Nicolas Sampier using the naughty word in their allegation that the Hospitallers were equipping ‘pirates’ despite their vow to protect Christians29 as well as blatant threats like the enforcement of a Venetian embargo on Rhodes.30 If Venice had superior power but no evidence, say, because it had not captured the alleged ‘pirate’, but was still facing a minor power, e.g. the Hospitallers, like in the case of Moysius Servente, it resorted to the use of tamer vocabulary like ‘derobator’, more neutral terms in general, and even went as far as not to allege the Hospitallers were in league with ‘pirates’, because they refused to help Servente’s Venetian victims.31 As soon as Venice switched to the king of Aragon as the target of its restitution demands though, we can see how Venice behaved, if it had neither power nor evidence. If strongarming a minor power was off the table, because the audience was a capable maritime power and thus more likely to prolong negotiations or counteract to Venetian strongarming attempts, like the Crown of Aragon or Genoa, Venice resorted to even more or mostly neutral terms, like in Servente’s case. It even went as far as to employ euphemisms, post factum legitimisations for the incident itself or to ignore missed deadlines. All in all the likelihood of being called a ‘pirate’ seems to have decreased with the amount of evidence Venice had and the capabilities of the maritime power it chose to demand restitution from.

Photo: Grünenberg, Konrad von, Beschreibung der Reise von Konstanz nach Jerusalem, Bodenseegebiet ca. 1487, in: Chart. A 541, folio 10v–11r, URL: [https://dhb.thulb.uni-jena.de/receive/ufb_cbu_00025778urn: nbn:de:urmel-ufb-152779-8-0011] (07.06.2023).

  1. ASV.Secreti.6.142r (04.05.1417), l. 10–13, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 153, reg. 1648. [↩]
  2. ASV.Ducha.Missive.1, lett. 3, 7 (21.04.1417); Thiriet, Délibérations des Assemblées Vénitiennes. Régestes des Années 1364–1463, Reg. 1220, p. 139; ASV.Ducha.Missive.1, lett. 5, 6 (08./16.05.1417); Thiriet, Délibérations des Assemblées Vénitiennes. Régestes des Années 1364–1463, Reg. 1222, p. 140; ASV.Libri.10.197v, l. 3–5. [↩]
  3. ASV.Misti.52.41v (21.08.1417), Z. 4–10; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 165, reg. 719. [↩]
  4. ASV.Libri.10.197v, l. 20–21. [↩]
  5. ASV.Misti.52.41v (21.08.1417), 41v, l. 31, 42r, l. 8; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 165–166, reg. 719. [↩]
  6. ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 24–28; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902. [↩]
  7. ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 28–31; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902. [↩]
  8. ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 39–42; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902. [↩]
  9. ASV.Misti.46.43r (22.09.1402), l. 1 —5; ASV.Secreti.1.82r (19.12.1402), l. 36–39; Delaville, La France en Orient au XIV. siècle, vol. II, p. 106, Pièce XXV. Conversion: 1 North Syrian kintar = 217 kg, 1 Sack = 144 kg, 125 sacks of cotton x 144 kg = 18,000 kg, 18.000 kg / 217 kg = 83 kintar, 1 North Syrian (Tripoli) kintar in the first half of the fifteenth century = 25 ducats, 83 kintar x 25 ducats = 2,075 ducats, 125 sacks = 2,075 ducats, cf. Ashtor, Levant Trade in the Middle Ages, 173–179, 184, 188–189, 257. [↩]
  10. ASV.Misti.46.43r (22.09.1402), l. 1–5; ASV.Secreti.1.121v (18.12.1403), l. 10–16, 41–44, Delaville, La France en Orient au XIV. siècle, vol. II, p. 136, Pièce XXXIII. [↩]
  11. ASV.Libri.9.141r, l. 9–11, 11–12, 12–17, 21–23, 19–54; Secrete.1.90r (05.03.1403), l. 2–4, 90v, l. 9–11; Libri.9.141v, l. 23–25, 26–29, 30–38, 50–53, 142r, l. 1–7. The name Grimaldi is no surprise here, cf. Favreau-Lilie, Diplomacy (2013), p. 301. [↩]
  12. Secrete.1.90r (05.03.1403), l. 4–6, 90v, l. 1–4; Secrete.1.112v (16.11.1403), l. 41–46; Secrete.1.134r (23.02.1404 [m.V. 1403]), l. 17–23; Surdich, Venezia (1970), D.20, pp. 188–192. If said envoys were among the witnesses named in the Rhodian notarial act sent to Venice, which confirmed Pampano’s story, remains to be verified, cf. Libri.9.141v, l. 46–50. [↩]
  13. ASV.Libri.10.197v (31.10.1417), l. 19–20, (18.02.1418), l. 50. [↩]
  14. ASV.Misti.52.7r (05.04.1417), l. 2, 14v (16.05.1417), l. 1, 5; ASV.Maggior Consiglio.Deliberazioni. Ursa, f.15 (17.08.1417), l. 2; ASV.Misti.52.41r (21.08.1417), l. 1, 4, 9, 42r, l. 23, 37; ASV.Misti.52.86v (07.04.1418), l. 6, ASV.Libri.10.197v, l. 3, 5; ASV.Sindicati.Reg.1.213r–213v (22.08.1419). [↩]
  15. ASV.Secreti.6.142r (04.05.1417), l. 1; ASV.Secreti.6.142r (04.05.1417), l. 2, 11; ASV.Secreti.6.142r (04.05.1417), l. 10; ASV.Secreti.6.142r (04.05.1417), l. 12, 17; ASV.Secreti.6.156v (28.07.1417), l. 4, 7, 12, 17, 19, 22; ASV.Secreti.6.156v (28.07.1417), l. 12; ASV.Misti.52.41r (21.08.1417), l. 20, 41v, l. 1, 6, 12, 17, 20, 23; ASV.Misti.52.41v (21.08.1417), l. 12; ASV.Libri.10.198r, l. 28, 30; ASV.Misti.53.32r (05.03.1420), l. 10, 11. [↩]
  16. ASV.Misti.54.143r (30.08.1423), l. 30, 31. [↩]
  17. ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 33; ASV.Misti.54.163v (13.12.1423), l. 2; ASV.Misti.54.163v (13.12.1423), l. 3, 17, 21. [↩]
  18. ASV.Misti.54.167v (30.12.1423), Z. 9–15; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 260, reg. 834. [↩]
  19. ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 28, 33, 38, 40, 42, 142r, l. 3, 163v (13.12.1423), l. 9, 13, 15, 19, 22, 167v (30.12.1423), l. 1–3, 9, 14, 16; ASV.Misti.55.52v (06.09.1424), l. 1–2, 10, 14, 16, 19, 23, 28, 125v (13.06.1425), l. 1, 4–5, 8–10, 12–14, 15, 17–18, 126r, l. 1–4. [↩]
  20. ASV.Misti 55.125v (13.06.1425), l. 11. [↩]
  21. ASV.Misti 46.43r (22.09.1402), l. 1–3; ASV.Libri.9.153r (27.04.1402), l. 28–29. [↩]
  22. ASV.Libri.9.153r (22.05.1403), l. 42. [↩]
  23. ASV.Libri.9.141r, l. 15, 17. [↩]
  24. ASV.Secreti.1.82r (19.12.1402), l. 38, 90v (05.03.1403), l. 9, 119r (13.12.1403), l. 48, 120v (15.12.1403), l. 3, 8, 121r, 8, 125r (29.12.1403), l. 12. [↩]
  25. ASV.Secreti.1.82r (19.12.1402), l. 38, 87v (08.02.1403 (m.V. 1402), l. 19, 90v (05.03.1403), l. 5, 6, 120v (15.12.1403), l. 22, 121v (18.12.1403), l. 10, 13–14, 41, 122v (22.12.1403), l. 4, 125r (29.12.1403), l. 12. [↩]
  26. ASV.Libri.9.141r (07.12.1402), l. 12–17. [↩]
  27. Luttrell, The Hospitallers of Rhodes and their Mediterranean World, 1992, II, p. 82, XIX, pp. 141–142, XIX, p. 133. [↩]
  28. ASV.Misti.53.32r (05.03.1420), l. 14–18; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 205–206, reg. 762; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 180, reg. 1764. [↩]
  29. ASV.Misti.52.41v (21.08.1417), l. 11–13; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 165, reg. 719. [↩]
  30. ASV.Misti.52.42r (21.08.1417), l. 11–14; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 166, reg. 719; ASV.Misti.52.42v (21.08.1417), l. 1–2, 43r (27.08.1417),l. 1–7, 86v (07.04.1418), l. 1–14; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 172, reg. 727. [↩]
  31. ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 30–36; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902. [↩]