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Erwerb und Verwaltung kirchlichen Grundeigentums: Das Kollegiatstift St. Christophorus von Coimbra (12. und 13. Jahrhundert)

Monika Aring da Silva Ramos Mauro, Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg

Abstract: This article examines the acquisition and administration of church property in Portugal in the 12th and 13th centuries, using the example of the Collegiate Church of St. Christopher in Coimbra. The conquest of the city and its surrounding area in 1064 and the associated political, demographic and ecclesiastical restructuring processes serve as the central historical framework. This article summarises the main findings of a seminar paper written during an Erasmus stay at the University of Coimbra in the winter semester of 2024/2025.

Resumo: O presente artigo analisa a aquisição e a administração do património eclesiástico em Portugal nos séculos XII e XIII, tomando como estudo de caso a Colegiada de São Cristóvão de Coimbra. A conquista da cidade e do seu termo em 1064, bem como os processos de reorganização política, demográfica e eclesiástica a ela associados, constituem o principal enquadramento histórico da análise. Este artigo sintetiza os principais resultados de um trabalho de seminário desenvolvido no âmbito de uma estadia Erasmus na Universidade de Coimbra, durante o primeiro semestre do ano letivo 2024/2025.

Zusammenfassung: Der vorliegende Beitrag untersucht den Erwerb und die Verwaltung kirchlichen Vermögens im Portugal des 12. und 13. Jahrhunderts am Beispiel des Kollegiatstifts St. Christophorus von Coimbra. Dabei dienen die Eroberung der Stadt und ihres Umlands im Jahr 1064 sowie die damit verbundenen politischen, demografischen und kirchlichen Neuordnungsprozesse als zentraler historischer Rahmen. Dieser Beitrag fasst die Hauptergebnisse einer Seminararbeit zusammen, die im Rahmen eines Erasmusaufenthaltes an der Universität Coimbra im Wintersemester 2024/2025 entstanden ist.

Die Geschichte der portugiesischen Stadt Coimbra reicht bis in die Antike zurück, als sie unter dem Namen Aeminium bekannt war. Wie weite Teile Portugals geriet die Stadt im Jahr 714 unter muslimischer Herrschaft. Erst 1064 wurde Coimbra von Ferdinand dem Großen, König von León, erobert, der die Regierung der Stadt dem mozarabischen Ritter Sesnando Davides übertrug. Während seiner Amtszeit widmete sich Sesnando vor allem der Sicherung der Grenze gegenüber der muslimischen Welt sowie der Förderung der Besiedlung der Stadt und ihres Umlandes.

Mit der Wahl Paternos zum Bischof im Jahr 1080 wurde auch die Diözese von Coimbra wiederhergestellt. Dieser ging ein Bündnis mit Sesnando ein, mit dem Ziel, die kirchlichen Strukturen Coimbras neu zu organisieren. Diese kirchliche Reorganisation war weniger durch die Notwendigkeit motiviert, den lokalen christlichen Glauben zu erneuern, der sich aufgrund der starken Präsenz mozarabischer Gruppen während der muslimischen Herrschaft vergleichsweise lebendig erhalten hatte. Vielmehr zielte die diözesane Neuordnung auf die Schaffung von Mechanismen zur Beherrschung, Strukturierung und Nutzung des „neuen“ Territoriums sowie seiner wachsenden Bevölkerung ab.¹

Sowohl der Besiedlungsprozess als auch die Umstrukturierung des kirchlichen Netzes von Coimbra setzten sich während der Regierung des Grafen (und späteren Königs) Alfons fort. Dieser ließ sich 1131 in der Stadt nieder, nachdem er den Hof von Guimarães nach Coimbra verlegt und die Stadt zur Hauptstadt der Grafschaft Portucale erhoben hatte. Die Ankunft Alfons‘ in Coimbra und die Fortführung der Politik zur Förderung der Besiedlung durch Schenkungen und territoriale Konzessionen führten zu einem erheblichen wirtschaftlichen Wachstum sowohl im ländlichen als auch im städtischen Raum. Dieses zog wiederum noch mehr Menschen nach Coimbra und bewirkte einen deutlichen demografischen Anstieg. Diejenigen, die von den Vorteilen des städtischen Lebens angezogen wurden, jedoch keinen Platz innerhalb der Stadtmauern fanden, ließen sich in den Vorstädten Coimbras nieder. Diese entwickelten sich rasch zum bevölkerungsreichsten Teil der Stadt.²

Das Bevölkerungswachstum betonte neuerlich die Notwendigkeit, die Einwohner Coimbras zu organisieren und in klar definierten Pfarreien zu integrieren. Im Hoch- und Spätmittelalter stellte die Pfarrei die stabilste Einheit der portugiesischen Gesellschaft dar und fungierte als Kern sämtlicher bevölkerungsbezogener, sozioökonomischer und religiöser Aktivitäten. Im 12. Jahrhundert durchlief Coimbra einen intensiven Prozess der pfarrlichen Aufteilung, der zur Schaffung von neun verschiedenen Pfarreien innerhalb und außerhalb der Stadtmauern führte. Innerhalb der Mauern, unweit von der Kathedrale, wurde eine dem heiligen Christophorus geweihte Kirche errichtet, die als Sitz der gleichnamigen Pfarrei diente und deren Kanoniker sich in einem Kollegiatstift organisierten.

Zum Grundeigentum des Kollegiatstifts St. Christophorus von Coimbra

Über die Anfänge des Kollegiatstifts St. Christophorus von Coimbra ist wenig bekannt, da keine Gründungsurkunde überliefert ist. Sicher ist jedoch, dass die Stiftskirche spätestens seit 1108 bestand.³ Das mittelalterliche Kirchengebäude existiert heute nicht mehr, da es im Jahr 1860 für den Bau eines inzwischen ebenfalls verfallenen Theaters abgerissen wurde. Demgegenüber ist heutzutage im portugiesischen Zentralarchiv, der Torre do Tombo in Lissabon, eine umfangreiche hoch- und spätmittelalterliche Dokumentation überliefert, die unter anderem Schenkungsurkunden sowie Kauf-, Tausch- und Pachtverträge der Kirche umfasst. Diese Quellen ermöglichen einen einzigartigen Einblick in die Strategien des Erwerbs und der Verwaltung städtischen und ländlichen Besitzes einer jungen Stiftspfarrkirche in einer Phase tiefgreifender politischer, wirtschaftlicher und sozialer Veränderungen.

Ein wesentlicher Teil der kirchlichen Einkünfte stammte aus den Ländereien, die das Kollegiatstift innerhalb und außerhalb der Stadtmauern Coimbras besaß. Die Quellen des 12. und frühen 13. Jahrhunderts sind vor allem durch den Erwerb städtischen und ländlichen Besitzes geprägt. Neben vereinzelten Kauf- und Tauschgeschäften spielten insbesondere testamentarische Schenkungen eine zentrale Rolle, die somit die Stiftskirche mit ihren ersten Ländereien ausstatteten und die materielle Grundlage für den Unterhalt der Kanoniker über die üblichen Gemeindegaben hinaus sicherten. Von besonderer Bedeutung war dabei das Wirken einer lokalen Familie namens Anaia, auf die die umfangreichsten Landschenkungen zurückgehen. Ihre enge Beziehung zur Stiftspfarrkirche ist über mehrere Generationen hinweg nachweisbar.

Mit der Eroberung der Stadt Coimbra und ihrer Umgebung im Jahr 1064 gingen die zuvor unter muslimischer Herrschaft stehenden Ländereien vor allem in das Eigentum weltlicher und gelangten in der Folge durch Schenkungen auch in kirchliches Eigentum. Die politische Herrschaft über das Land bedeutete jedoch nicht zwangsläufig dessen systematische Nutzung. Im Allgemeinen bestand ein Überfluss an Großgrundbesitz, der noch gerodet und kultiviert werden musste, während die hierfür erforderlichen menschlichen, materiellen und technischen Ressourcen begrenzt waren. Im Zuge der Wiederbesiedlungspolitik der Region wurden die enfiteutischen Vertragsbeziehungen schrittweise wiederhergestellt. Deren Ziel war es, die Ländereien wirtschaftlich nutzbar zu machen. Diesen Prozess beschreibt der portugiesische Jurist Mário Júlio de Almeida Costa als eine gelungene „Interessenkonvergenz zwischen jenen, die über unerschlossenes Land verfügten, und jenen, die die Arbeitskraft besaßen“.⁴ In Coimbra waren es vor allem kirchliche Institutionen, die über umfangreichen Landbesitz verfügten und diesen Prozess maßgeblich vorantrieben, darunter auch das Kollegiatstift St. Christophorus.

Während sich das Stift im 12. Jahrhundert vor allem um den Erwerb von Land bemühte, lässt sich im 13. Jahrhundert eine stärkere Ausrichtung auf die Nutzung und Verwaltung des bestehenden Vermögens feststellen. Nun begann das Stift seine Ländereien gezielt zu vergeben, um eine sesshafte Bevölkerung zu schaffen und zugleich regelmäßige sowie stabile Einkünfte zu erzeugen. Dabei lassen sich unterschiedliche Modalitäten der Vergabe des Landes beobachten, die sich vor allem nach der Größe des Landguts und seiner Entfernung zur Stadt richteten.

Der ewige Pachtvertrag (carta de foro, auch aforamento genannt) sah die dauerhafte Nutzung eines Grundstücks entweder durch die gesamte Einwohnerschaft einer Region oder durch eine einzelne Familie und deren Nachkommen vor. Diese Vertragsform wurde vor allem auf größere und außerhalb des Landkreises Coimbra gelegene Besitzungen angewandt, da gerade unbebaute und öde Gebiete besonders von einer kontinuierlichen Besiedlung und Bewirtschaftung profitierten. Aufgrund des häufig verwilderten Zustands dieser entlegenen Ländereien wurden die Naturalabgaben in den ersten Jahren des Vertrages vergleichsweise niedrig angesetzt.

Neben den dauerhaften Pachtverträgen sind auch befristete Vertragsformen belegt, die in zwei Typen unterschieden werden können. Die sogenannten emprazamentos waren auf die Lebenszeit des Pächters angelegt, während die arrendamentos auf wenige Jahre beschränkt waren, in der Regel weniger als zehn. Letztere Vertragsform war für beide Parteien weniger vorteilhaft und daher weniger verbreitet, da die kurze Laufzeit häufig zu einer intensiven Ausbeutung der Böden führte, was deren Fruchtbarkeit rasch beeinträchtigte.

Obwohl die aforamentos während des gesamten 13. Jahrhunderts vorkommen, lässt sich ab der zweiten Hälfte des Jahrhunderts ein deutlicher Anstieg befristeter Verträge beobachten. Der emprazamento entwickelte somit gegen Ende des 13. Jahrhunderts zur bevorzugten Form der Landverwaltung des Kollegiatstifts. Die Beschreibung der verpachteten Parzellen zeigt zudem, dass diese Vertragsform vor allem für kleinere Grundstücke bevorzugt wurde, die sich im Landkreis Coimbra befanden, teils in unmittelbarer Nähe der Stadtmauern oder sogar innerhalb der befestigten Stadt. Diese Grundstücke verfügten in der Regel bereits über Olivenhaine, Weingärten sowie über die notwendigen Anlagen zur Verarbeitung der Ernte. Der Arbeitsaufwand hier war deutlich geringer als bei den großflächigen, weitentfernten Ländereien. Zudem bestanden die jährlichen Abgaben in den emprazamentos überwiegend aus Geld, was auf die zunehmende Monetarisierung der städtischen Wirtschaft zurückführen ist.

Fazit

Das Kollegiatstift St. Christophorus in Coimbra zeigt exemplarisch, wie kirchliche Institutionen im Zuge der christlichen Eroberung Portugals, der Neubesiedlung ehemals muslimischer Gebiete und der territorialen sowie kirchlichen Neuordnung Grundbesitz erwerben und verwalten konnten. Dabei lag der Fokus dieser Untersuchung auf den unterschiedlichen Formen der Verpachtung und darauf, wie diese dem Stift stabile Einkünfte sicherten und zugleich eine sesshafte Bevölkerung förderten. Insgesamt verdeutlicht das Beispiel des Kollegiatstifts, wie wirtschaftliche, soziale und territoriale Strategien miteinander verknüpft wurden, um die Stellung der Kirche in Stadt und Umland nachhaltig zu festigen.

Photo: Älteste Abbildung der Stadt Coimbra. Die Kirche St. Christophorus ist südlich der Kathedrale dargestellt und mit dem Buchstabe G gekennzeichnet, in: Braun, Georg; Hogenberg, Franz (Hrsg.), Civitates orbis terrarum, Bd. 5: Urbium praecipuarum mundi theatrum quintum, Köln 1599, S. 4a, URL: [https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16956#0035] (11.03.2026).

Bastos, Mário Jorge da Motta, A estruturação da Igreja na Península Ibérica: a Diocese de Coimbra (sécs. XI–XII), in: Mirabilia26 (2018), S. 50, 55f. [↩]
Ventura, Leontina, Coimbra Medieval: Uma cidade em formação, in: Inventário do Museu Nacional Machado Castro. Colecção de Ourivesaria Medieval. Séculos XII‑XIV, hrsg. von Adília Alarcão , Lisboa 2008, S. 16; Campos, Maria Amélia Álvaro de, Cidade e Religião. A colegiada de Santa Justa de Coimbra na Idade Média, Coimbra 2017, S. 47, 52. [↩]
Aus diesem Jahr stammt eine Verkaufsurkunde, in dem ein Einwohner Coimbras namens Paio gemeinsam mit seiner Ehefrau Comba und einer weiteren Frau ein Haus neben der Kirche St. Christophorus an Cid und dessen Ehefrau Aldora verkaufte. Es handelt sich hierbei um die älteste erhaltene Erwähnung der Stiftskirche. Siehe Matos, João José da Cunha, A colegiada de São Cristóvão de Coimbra (sécs. XII e XIII), Tomar 1998, S. 92, Nr. 5 (unveröffentlichte “prova de aptidão pedagógica e capacidade científica”). In dieser Arbeit wurde die gesamte Dokumentation des Stiftes aus dem 12. Und 13. Jahrhundert transkribiert. [↩]
Zitat eigenständig übersetzt aus: Costa, Mário Júlio do Almeida, Os contratos agrários e a vida económica em Portugal na Idade Média, in: Anuario De Historia Del Derecho Español 49 (1979), S. 162. [↩]

Al-Manṣūr, Sampiro of Astorga and the origins of Iberian Interpretative Patterns for Christian-Islamic Conflicts in the 11th century

Mats Pfeifer, Universität Bamberg

Abstract: This contribution will attempt to construct a plausible argument for the origins of the 11th-century interpretations of Christian-Muslim conflicts on the Iberian Peninsula and will trace their transmission and further development. In this context, it is of particular importance to emphasise a source or more accurately a period whose significance in this process has hitherto been overlooked,¹ but which, as will be shown, represents a crucial missing link in this development.

The Iberian interpretation towards the end of the 11th century and solutions proposed by research

From the mid-11th century onwards, the outstanding evidence for the Iberian interpretation of the conflict can be found in elaborate, highly religious, schematic depictions of events in the acts of consecration or donation for cathedrals in cities that had been recently conquered or rebuilt.²

A common thread running through all these testimonies is the interpretation of the conflict in terms of a providentialist scheme. This structure of history can be roughly divided into four phases: (1) the prominent position of a city in Christendom,

(2) the loss of this position, caused by the sins of the people,

(3) the reconquest of the territory, made possible by the renewed granting of God’s grace and

(4) the restoration of the church and thereby the expansion of Christianity.

In recurrent research it is frequently proposed that a European influence from outside the peninsula may have been a factor in the development of this interpretation, for example through the increasing installation of French-born clerics and monks in Iberian monasteries or bishoprics – particularly in connection with Cluny – or the direct influence of the reformed papacy.³

However, as evidenced by the emergence of the Iberian interpretation as early as the 1040s, these hypotheses are not suitable for explaining this phenomenon as all previous explanatory approaches in research only apply from around the 1060s. It thus follows that the supposed influence of these factors can still be largely ruled out for the testimonies analysed here. Instead, specific Iberian factors can and should be invoked.

Alternatives: Asturian origins and their transmission in the 10th and 11th centuries

These may be described as the Iberian interpretative patterns‘ Asturian origins. In particular, this refers to the so-called Asturian Chronicles, which were composed around 880 in close connection with the royal court.⁴ The historiographical programme of these chronicles is centered on the depiction of the Asturian kingdom and its rulers as the legitimate successors of the Visigothic kingdom based on a world view that scholars refer to as neo-Gothicism. The chronicles offer a common explanation of the complete defeat of the Visigoths by the Muslims, which is based on a providentialist motif. According to this scheme, which echoes the narratives of the 11th century, the once God-supported greatness of Gothic rule on the Iberian Peninsula was destroyed by the attack of the Muslims as divine punishment for the sinfulness of the Goths. Concurrently the narrative posits that this humiliation would be followed by an ascent based on God’s never fully withdrawn mercy which would ultimately lead to the restoration of the former status.⁵

The interpretation of the conflict with the Muslims, as presented in the Asturian Chronicles, thus anticipates central aspects of the scheme that recur in the documents of the 11th century. Consequently, it lends itself as a basis for these ideas. However, there is still a gap of at least 125 years between these two points that requires further investigation.

During the 10th century, the transmission of the Asturian Chronicles was initially accomplished primarily through the production of copies and the editing and updating of the chronicles, which can be most clearly observed in the Kingdom of Pamplona-Navarra.⁶

But two problems still remain unsolved. Firstly, a direct chronological link remains missing. Additionally, the further developments of the Asturian interpretation in the sources of the 11th century remain unaccounted for. First and foremost, the neo-Gothicist interpretation was superseded in the 11th century by an interpretation based more on the religious contrast: The focus shifted from the restoration of the Visigothic kingdom, to the the restoration of Christian rule and order. Therefore, I will now address the final piece of the puzzle, the missing link: The so-called Chronicle of Sampiro, its author and the period represented by both of them.

The Missing Link: Al-Manṣūr and Sampiro

The person we may in all probability refer to as the author of the chronicle was probably a witness and author of Leonese royal charters from 990 onwards. Towards the end of his life, Sampiro then served as Bishop of Astorga from 1034-41. His rise to this position is in turn closely linked to the Navarrese takeover of León in the 1030s.⁷

The chronicle he wrote is the only one that records the period between around 880 and 1000 from a Christian perspective. As such, it is of outstanding importance for the questions of interest here. The precise date of composition is uncertain, but it is clear that the work was completed no earlier than the year 1000.⁸

It is evident that Sampiro’s work was significantly influenced by al-Manṣūr’s campaigns in the Christian north. They not only brought about the first significant Muslim expansion since the conquest of 711, but also, to a certain extent, a de facto subordination of the Christian kingdoms. The decades around the turn of the millennium were thus characterised by the clear military superiority of the caliphate and the inability of the Christian realms to mount any sort of counter-reaction.⁹

So how do Sampiro’s chronicle and al-Manṣūr’s campaigns fit together and to what extent do they constitute the missing link we are looking for? To explain this, I will draw upon Paul Chevedden’s concept of a “Holy War Reaction” which he has illustrated by employing, among others, the example of the Muslim base in Fraxinetum, located in the south-east of present-day France.¹⁰ The capture of Maiolus, the abbot of Cluny, by the Muslims living there in 973 was the catalyst for a coalition of local Christian forces that finally destroyed the Muslim base.¹¹ Chevedden has now described this process as a “Holy War Reaction” which he defined as a reaction following a triggering impulse from the opposing side, which is characterised by a religious charging of the conflict. He also observed a comparable process in the military response of Iberian Christians to the dissolution of the Cordovan Caliphate following the death of al-Manṣūr and his son.¹²

Similarly, the heightened religious fervour evident in the interpretation of the conflict may also be attributed to an impulse of the Muslims, namely the campaigns of al-Manṣūr. In this context, it can be argued that Sampiro’s chronicle represents a kind of written “Holy War Reaction” to these expeditions.

This is most evident in the portrayal of the peak of the raids in the context of the reign of Vermudo II, which Sampiro himself witnessed. His statements demonstrate his adherence to older patterns of interpretation on the one hand and his intensified religious interpretation of the conflict in the wake of al-Manṣūr’s attacks on the other.¹³

Describing the events, Sampiro reports that a large number of Saracens had invaded their territories due to the sins of the Christian people and destroyed everything there, for example monasteries and churches. The Muslims even sought to destroy the tomb of St. James the Apostle, but were ultimately deterred from doing so. Despite all these hardships, however, Sampiro’s report also expresses the conviction that God was already fighting on their side again, as he declares that God himself remembered his mercy and took revenge on his enemies – a formulation and an image that are strongly reminiscent of the forms used in later documents. In addition to the Muslims being killed by the sword or other sudden deaths, Vermudo also succeeded, with the assistance of God, in restoring the sanctuary of St. James to a better state than before.¹⁴ This interpretation is particularly noteworthy in light of the fact that Vermudo’s reign was the most severely affected by the Muslim attacks.

In summary the portrayal of Christian-Iberian history based on a providentialist scheme is once again evident in Sampiro‘s text: The Christians are afflicted by al-Manṣūr‘s raids because of their sins. Ultimately, however, the re-granting of God’s mercy results in the defeat of the Muslims and the restoration of the church under the guidance of a king whom God has chosen. In response to al-Manṣūr, Sampiro thus offers a new emphasis on the religious character of the struggle against the Muslims.¹⁵ He depicts it as a fight against the enemies of God and for the preservation and expansion of his church, in which he himself intervenes at least indirectly. Furthermore, the density of this interpretation and the more Christian than neo-Gothicist tone are noteworthy, particularly in comparison to the Asturian Chronicles, and already hint towards the later documents.¹⁶

If Sampiro and his work are also placed in their chronological context, it becomes evident that the chronicle also forms a “missing link” in this sense. Sampiro’s life span (born before 990 when he was first mentioned at the court of León; died probably shortly after his last mention in 1042)¹⁷ not only bridges the gap that still exists between the production of the oldest surviving copies of the Asturian Chronicles and the later charters, but also encompasses and connects both phases directly.

The same can be said of the political upheavals of the time.¹⁸ Sampiro’s life not only connects the Asturian-Leonese period with the Navarrese, but also spans the phase from the raids of al-Manṣūr to the collapse of the caliphate and the beginning of Christian expansion with the accompanying formulation of the interpretation already laid out by Sampiro.

Conclusion

Therefore, what can the inclusion of Sampiro’s chronicle achieve that the Asturian Chronicles and their copies could not? It provides evidence of an ‘active’ and continued transmission, further development and dissemination of the Asturian interpretation. Furthermore, it represents an ideological and temporal link between two dynasties and interpretations and lastly offers a decisive intermediate step in and an explanation for the religious charge in the 11th century. Sampiro and his chronicle thus occupy a pivotal position in the evolution of the Iberian and, by extension the development of the interpretation of Christian-Islamic conflicts as a whole.

In conclusion, the following picture emerges: A scheme for interpreting the conflicts with the Muslims had already been formulated in Asturias in the 9th century. This scheme had the restoration of the Visigothic kingdom as its central goal. Around the turn of the millennium, there was a profound sense of helplessness in the face of al-Manṣūr’s attacks. This led to the conflict becoming increasingly fuelled by religion. Initially that was felt only gradually, which was probably due not least to the need to consolidate the Christian realms themselves. This phase was followed almost immediately by the collapse of the caliphate and thus the fragmentation of the Islamic sphere of power. The following practice of Christian territorial expansion led to the formulation of the religiously charged perception of the battle, in which the Asturian interpretation was still firmly anchored, but which was intensified both qualitatively and quantitatively as a result. The Chronicle of Sampiro plays an important role as an intermediate step in this process, maintaining the older interpretation while also linking it to subsequent developments. In addition to this significant role of Sampiro’s chronicle, al-Manṣūr’s plundering represents a plausible reason for the new quality of the battle as perceived by contemporaries.

Photo: Beginning of the Chronicle of Sampiro in the oldest manuscript of the Historia Silense (15th century), in: Biblioteca National de España, MSS/1181, fol. 27r, URL: [http://bdh.bne.es/bnesearch/detalle/bdh0000267142#] (06.01.2025).

The only real exception is F. Fernández-Armesto, ‘The Survival of a Notion of Reconquista in Late Tenth- and Eleventh-Century León’, in T. Reuter (ed.), Warriors and Churchmen in the High Middle Ages: Essays presented to Karl leyser (London, Rio Grande, 1992), pp. 123–43. [↩]
See the most recent overview in N. Jaspert, ‘Eroberung – Rückeroberung – Glaubenskampf – Gotteskrieg: Die Levante und die Iberische Halbinsel im Vergleich’, in H. Kamp (ed.), Herrschaft über fremde Völker und Reiche: Formen, Ziele und Probleme der Eroberungspolitik im Mittelalter, Vorträge und Forschungen 93 (Ostfildern, 2022), pp. 249–89, at pp. 257–9. [↩]
See lastly Jaspert, ‘Eroberung – Rückeroberung – Glaubenskampf – Gotteskrieg’, p. 260. [↩]
The most recent edition of the texts can be found in: Chronica hispana saeculi VIII et IX, ed. Juan Gil (Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaevalis LXV), Turnhout 2018. [↩]
On depiction of Christian-Islamic conflicts in the Asturian Chronicles, see in particular A.P. Bronisch, Reconquista und Heiliger Krieg: Die Deutung des Krieges im christlichen Spanien von den Westgoten bis ins frühe 12. Jahrhundert, Spanische Forschungen der Görresgesellschaft. Zweite Reihe 35 (Münster, 1998), pp. 124–56. [↩]
On the reception of the Asturian Chronicles and their significance for legitimisation in Navarre, see: A. P. Bronisch, ‘Heiliger Krieg zwischen Weltanschauung und Propaganda am Beispiel der christlichen iberischen Reiche (6.-11. Jh.)’, in K. Herbers, A. Nehring and K. Steiner (eds), Sakralität und Macht, Beiträge zur Hagiographie 22 (Stuttgart, 2019), pp. 99–126, at pp. 122–4; H. Sirantoine, Imperator Hispaniae: Les idéologies impériales dans le royaume de León (IXe-XIIe siècles), Bibliothèque de la Casa de Velázquez 58 (Madrid, 2012), pp. 124–9. [↩]
For further information on Sampiro and his life see still: J. Pérez de Urbel, Sampiro, su cronica y la monarquia leonesa en el siglo X (Madrid, 1952), and in addition: M. Durany Castrillo and M. Del Carmen Rodríguez González, ‘El obispado de Astorga en el primer tercio del siglo XI: De Jimeno a Sampiro’, Semata. Ciencias Socials e Himanidades 15 (2003), pp. 187–222, at pp. 219–21. [↩]
On Sampiro’s chronicle, in the absence of an updated complete account, see still Pérez de Urbel, Sampiro. In addition, reference can also be made to various works by Bronisch or Isla Frez. See for example: Bronisch, Reconquista, pp. 159–63; A. P. Bronisch, ‘La sacralización de la guerra en las fuentes de los siglos X y XI y el concepto de guerra santa’, in C. de Ayala Martínez, P. Henriet and J. S. Palacios Ontalva (eds), Orígenes y desarrollo de la guerra santa en la Península Ibérica: Palabras e imágenes para una legitimación (siglos X-XIV), Collection de la casa de Velázquez 154 (Madrid, 2016), pp. 7–29, at pp. 16–20; A. Isla Frez, ‘Building Kingship on Words: Magni reges and sanctus rex in the Asturleonese Kingdom’, Journal of Medieval History 28 (2002), pp. 249–61; A. Isla Frez, ‘La Historia y el discurso sobre la guerra’, E-Spania 14 (2012). The text is quoted here in the version of the so-called Historia Silense from the 12th century, which is preferable to the version of Pelagius of Oviedo in terms of its proximity to Sampiro’s ‘original’ text. The most recent and authoritative edition of that chronicle can be found in: Historia silensis, ed. Juan A. Estévez Sola, in: Chronica hispana saeculi XII, Pars III (Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaeualis LXXI B), Turnhout 2018. [↩]
For this period see the overview in: P. Sénac, Al-Mansûr: Le Fléau de l’an mil (Paris, 2006), pp. 103–33. [↩]
P. E. Chevedden, ‘Pope Urban II. and the Ideology of the Crusades’, in A. J. Boas (ed.), The Crusader World (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 7–53, at pp. 11–2. [↩]
On the capture of the abbot and the events that followed, see: S. G. Bruce, ‘An Abbot Between two Cultures: Maiolus of Cluny Considers the Muslims of La Garde-Freinet’, Early Medieval Europe 15 (2007), pp. 426–40. [↩]
Chevedden, ‘Urban II.’, pp. 11–2. [↩]
On the interpretation of Sampiro’s account of Vermudo’s reign, see in particular: Bronisch, ‘Heiliger Krieg’, p. 120; Isla Frez, ‘Kingship’, pp. 259–61; Fernández-Armesto, ‘Survival’, p. 137, and with regard to the biblical elements contained therein as well as their interpretation, most recently: P.S. Marschner, Das neue Volk Gottes in Hispanien: Die Bibel in der christlich-iberischen Historiographie vom 8. bis zum 12. Jahrhundert, Geschichte und Kultur der Iberischen Welt 19 (Wien, 2023), pp. 297–301. [↩]
Sampiro, Chronicle, in: Historia Silensis, ed. Estévez Sola, pp. 194–5: Mortuo Raymiro, Veremundus […] accepit regnum pacifice. Vir satis prudens leges a Banbano principe conditas firmauit, canones aperire iussit, dilexit misericordiam et iudicium; reprobare malum studuit et eligere bonum. In diebus uero regni eius propter peccata populi christiani creuit ingens multitudo sarracenorum et rex eorum, qui nomen falsum sibi inposuit Almazor, qualis non antea fuit nec futurus erit, […] et cum omni gente ysmelitarum intrauit fines christianorum et cepit deuastare multa regnorum eorum atque gladio trucidare. […] Deuastauit quidem ciuitates, castella omnemque terram depopulauit usquequo peruenit ad partes maritimas occidentalis Ispanie et Galecie ciuitatem, in qua corpus beati Iacobi Apostoli tumulatum est, destruxit. Ad sepulcrum uero apostoli, ut illud frangeret, ire disposuerat, sed territus rediit. Eclesias, monasteria, palacia fregit atque igne cremauit era M tricessima quinta. Rex celestis memorans misericordie sue ulcionem fecit de inimicis suis. Morte quidem subitanea et gladio ipsa gens agarenorum cepit interire et ad nichilum cotidie peruenire. Rex uero Veremundus a Domino adiutus cepit restaurare ipsum locum Sancti Iacobi in melius. [↩]
This also clearly contravenes the prevailing opinion of some scholars that al-Manṣūr‘s military expeditions did not directly result in an intensified reinterpretation of the conflict in the Christian kingdoms of the north. See for that position especially: P. Sénac, ‘Al-Mansûr et la reconquête’, in T. Deswarte and P. Sénac (eds), Guerre, pouvoirs et idéologies dans l’Espagne chrétienne aux alentours de l’an mil: Actes du colloque international organisé par le Centre d’Études Supérieures de Civilisation Médiévale, Poitiers-Angoulême (16, 27 et 28 septembre 2002), Culture et société médiévales 4 (Turnhout, 2005), pp. 37–50, on Sampiro p. 46. [↩]
See already briefly: A. P. Bronisch, ‘Die westgotische Reichsideologie und ihre Weiterentwicklung im Reich von Asturien’, in F.-R. Erkens (ed.), Das frühmittelalterliche Königtum: Ideelle und religiöse Grundlagen, Ergänzungsbände zum Reallexikon der germanischen Altertumskunde 49 (Berlin, 2005), pp. 161–89, at pp. 186–7. [↩]
The concrete dates around Sampiros early life are almost impossible to pin down. See largely speculative for example: Pérez de Urbel, Sampiro, pp. 19–22. For the dates given here and the associated documents see: Pérez de Urbel, Sampiro, pp. 12–3; 100–104; Durany Castrillo and Del Carmen Rodríguez González, ‘Obispado de Astorga’, p. 221. [↩]
For the historical context which initially saw a rise in Navarrese influence from around 1028 and ultimately resulted in the shift from the previous dynasty to Fernando I, son of Sancho III of Navarre, see for example: B.F. Reilly, The Contest of Christian and Muslim Spain: 1031-1157, A History of Spain (Cambridge, Oxford, 1992), pp. 25–7; Á.J. Martín Duque, Sancho III el Mayor de Pamplona: El rey y su reino (1004-1035) (Pamplona, 2007), pp. 294–7; Sirantoine, Imperator Hispaniae, pp. 136–42. [↩]

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 10^th to the 12^th 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 XI^e 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 XVI^e 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 [1^st 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 750–1050, 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].

cf. Sant Cugat Ms. 22, in: Arxiu de la Corona d’Aragó, URL: [http://pares.mcu.es/ParesBusquedas20/catalogo/description/2334957]. [↩]
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. [↩]
The most famous among them being the martyrologies of Ado and Usuard compiled under the Carolingians in the ninth century. [↩]
This included the martyrology, the obituary, the rule, the lectionary and several more treatises and tracts. [↩]
Though in some cases they might have also been “Levitae”, or lay canons, which was a frequent phenomenon in eleventh-century Catalan cathedral chapters. [↩]