The Council of Constance (1414–1418), sometimes referred to as the first European congress, is often regarded in historiography as one of the most important events in the Late Middle Ages. In recent years, and thanks to the forthcoming anniversary, research has not only focused on the ‘great’ religious matters (ending the papal schism and addressing the Wycliffe-Hussite heresy and the reform of the Church) and secular affairs (Sigismund of Luxemburg’s European policies and the imperial diet, i.e. Hoftag), but it also looks at more marginal issues.2 Thanks to the Council and the arrival of delegations from various corners of the Christian West (as well as a few from the East), Constance became an outstanding meeting place for political negotiations and for establishing commercial and cultural contacts. The different ways in which the Council is perceived is not something confined to contemporary research and is already apparent in the primary sources.

The Thirteen Years’ War of 1454–1466, fought between Poland and the Teutonic Order, resulted in Pomerelia and Gdańsk becoming part of the Kingdom of Poland. In recognition of Gdańsk’s contribution to the war effort against the Teutonic Order, the King of Poland, Kazimierz Jagiellończyk (Casimir IV Jagiellon), awarded the city four privileges. Issued in the period between 1454 and 1457, the documents granting these rights formed the keystone of Gdańsk’s exceptional political and economic status, not only in Royal Prussia, but also within the Kingdom of Poland. It was at that time that Gdańsk gained significant autonomy in administrative, judicial, and financial matters as well as in determining foreign (maritime) policy.

As the title of the renowned book by the French churchman Honoré Bonet (Bouvet) suggests, the work belongs to a group of military handbooks of knighthood which was popular in Western Europe during the Middle Ages.3 However, the Reverend Bonet gives neither any detailed instructions nor overview of battlefield tactics, as they are traditionally understood in terms of arrangements of infantry troops or dispositions of cavalry; the author is equally uninterested in giving technical details of what war strategy should look like.4 For a long time all these military issues were the traditional subject matter of many manuals written in antiquity (especially in the Hellenistic epoch and the times of the Roman Empire) and later, and also in the medieval Eastern Roman Empire.

The position of women is certainly one of the important issues of recent decades, and not only in academic research. Facing concrete forms of vulnerability all over the world (which may include lower social status, the lack of choices women have, or the distinction between genders in schools, at work, and in the public sphere) and the current escalating presence of violence against women in the media and the temptation of formulating simple remedies to these problems, contemporary research in the humanities has to become sensitive to current developments and must dare to undertake the task of shaping the culture. We have to become aware that culture products such as literature, music, or art must not only reflect reality but also influence or (re)structure social statuses. This article focuses on one medieval Dutch text, Beatrijs, and the way the central figure of the woman is portrayed in it. It presents the link between the different social positions of the protagonist Beatrijs, the norms she has to follow, and the possibilities she has to choose from at particular turning points of her life. Beatrijs clearly belongs to the canon of medieval Dutch literature, and many aspects of it have been discussed already. After the first edition was published by Jonckbloet in 1841,1 the text did not receive much attention, and it was not until the new revival of the story at the beginning of the twentieth century when its diverse features were studied. With the publication by Deschamps,2 interest in the material characteristics of the manuscript itself piqued and detailed textual study with close-reading analysis and a diplomatic edition with Latin sources presented by Duinhoven3 has raised new questions about the interpretation of the text. The most recent research was presented in a publication that is the summation of the international project Beatrijs internationaal, which focused on the circulation of the text within and outside of the Netherlands in the past and present.4 Beatrijs is also one of the most widely circulated medieval Dutch texts with translations, adaptations, and intersemiotic interpretations all over the world. It has served as the source material for opera, films, modern literature for young readers, and theatre. This is why it is important to see Beatrijs not only as a story of one girl but more as a reflection of the social relations in the middle ages and a tool to influence them. This article shall not discuss how women were generally regarded in the Middle Ages but rather present the image set by literature and more precisely by one particular Dutch text and the way social attitudes are shown in it.

This essay presents the figure of Conrad Salzwedel, the bishop of Kamień Pomorski (1233–1241). The first objective is to describe briefly his origins and career history. After illustrating this general information relating to his personal life and his activity as a clergyman, the second part of this paper focuses on major documents and donations. The aim here is to portray Conrad III as a generous founder. Another essential point is to study his diplomatic relations with the Griffins, a dynasty from the Duchy of Pomerania. One of the points of this article is to outline the many conflicts Conrad Salzwedel had with other bishops. This is a complex problem which requires more consideration than is presented herein. The last part of this text examines the chief purposes of the agreement of 1240 between the bishop of Kamień Pomorski and the Pomeranian duke Barnim I. 

Medieval Reval (now Tallinn) was, besides Narva, the northern most town in which Lübeck law was in force. The town received Lübeck City Rights from the Danish king, Eric Ploughpenny, in 1248. The rights were later confirmed by Queen Margaret I, who received the Duchy of Estonia as a widow’s dower, and, starting from 1266, she used the title domina Estoniae.4 Although Margaret never actually visited Estonia, she became one of the greatest benefactors of thirteenth century Reval, completing the foundation of a Cistercian monastery in Reval initiated by the Danish king, Eric Ploughpenny. She confirmed the existing possessions of the monastery, granted it the right of patronage of St. Olaf’s parish church in the old town, confirmed the possessions of the local Dominican friars located outside the city,and reaffirmed all the liberties  bestowed on the town by King Valdemar II a few decades earlier. She also made contributions to the construction of the city walls,confirmed the boundaries of the city district, issued regulations on the measures and weights to be used in the city, and granted the residents of Reval a monopoly of retail trade in cloth. 

The purpose of the school system organized by the Dominicans in the thirteenth century was to provide their congregation with a supply of preachers to further the mission expressed in the popular motto of the order: contemplari et contemplata aliis tradere. In the period when the first friaries were being organized, human resources for the order were the numerous friars recruited from university circles. This manner of acquiring educated friars would not, however, be a permanent solution especially in peripheral regions where there were not yet any universities. Hence, the order had to take upon itself the task of creating new personnel. This was the situation mostly in Northern and Central Europe, as well as in the Teutonic Order’s Baltic jurisdiction in Prussia, where Dominican friaries operated that belonged to the Polish province of the order. This paper presents the system of Dominican schools functioning mainly in the fifteenth and the early sixteenth century within the Prussian contrata, a lower auxiliary unit in the order’s administration, encompassing the Teutonic Prussia regions. In addition to the running of schools, the foreign studies of Dominican friars from this region will also be discussed.

In the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church the primate is a jurisdictional rank between the pope and one or more metropolitan archbishops. It would be rather difficult to define the exact role or enumerate the powers of the primates in general as their prerogatives differ widely in different eras, and besides canon law, they are heavily influenced by papal or royal privileges and regional customs. A future summary of the medieval history of the primates would, therefore, require the independent analysis of every single national primacy that has ever existed in western Christianity during this period. The present study analyses the process how the archbishops of Esztergom consolidated their dominant position in the ecclesiastical hierarchy of the medieval Kingdom of Hungary. Although the dignity of the Primate of Hungary was only conferred to the archbishops at the end of the fourteenth century, several sources indicate that many of their powers existed centuries before the official papal appointment to primate. After a short review of the institution’s history in the Early and High Middle Ages, based on the jurisdictional conflicts between the two Hungarian archbishops, I present the powers and privileges that belonged to the prelate of Esztergom. Finally, based on the results of previous studies and the critical analysis of primary sources—among them a document that has never been discussed before in Hungarian historiography—I reconstruct the early stages of the evolution of the primatial role of the Archbishop of Esztergom.

The war between Poland and Moldova in 1509 was the continuation of a long-standing conflict between these two states. The origins of this problem lies in the time of reign of the Polish King Vladislaus Jagiellon, who needed money for his struggle with the Teutonic Order. He borrowed a sum of rubles (probably 4,000) from the ruler of Moldova, Peter I, and as a deposit, gave him, among other things, Pokutia. However, the Polish king did not return the money to the ruler of Moldova, and he did not give him Pokutia either. This is why, from that time on, Moldova tried to win this lost territory back. Despite many attempts to solve this problem, either by war or negotiations, it remained unresolved at the beginning of the sixteenth century. According to some historians, the reason for Bogdan’s expedition in 1509 was the hope to marry Alexander’s sister, Elisabeth Jagiellon. In this paper, I analyze reasons for this expedition, which affected the south-eastern borderlands of Poland. Consequently, I hope to be able to decide if there were any other reasons apart from the marriage arrangement that lay behind Bogdan’s expedition. 

Hans Memling’s (c.1435–1494) Last Judgment is a classic example of the use of the motif from St John’s Gospel and the Apocalypse in painting. The impressive triptych, with its 150 figures, is one of the most fascinating paintings of the fifteenth century that contains a richness of symbolic and theological elements. Its stormy and eventful history,the controversy surrounding its attribution, and the debate over the reason it was commissioned make it a great attraction for scholars and art lovers alike. The work also seems to be very interesting for musicologists, as the painting provides much information about instruments as objects with symbolic meaning, their function in practical performance, and the way in which they were played. Musical representation in painting, sculpture, and many other branches of the visual arts is of supreme documentary value to musical history. Therefore, it is understandable that the Last Judgment by Memling should draw the attention of musicologists.

The wedding of Sigismund I the Old (1467–1548) and his second wife Bona Sforza (1494–1557) in 1517–1518 is one of the best-known and most closely examined Renaissance weddings in Polish historiography. The marital union joining together a member of Jagiellonian dynasty with an Italian princess is the subject of many literary sources that see it in terms of a so-called Golden Era. Such sources, along with other narrative, administrative, and diplomatic sources, have enabled historians very thoroughly to document its diplomatic background, the nuptial ceremonies, as well as Bona Sforza’s bridal journey from her homeland in southern Italy to Poland.  Yet, there has been no study so far concentrating on an analysis of symbolic values and meaning—expressed by ritual acts—during Bona’s journey, since all studies have considered it as a merely geographic transfer, and not in terms of a bridal journey. The bridal journey, as a scholarly construct, is a relatively new concept in historical writing. The point of this concept is to demonstrate several other functions of the journey besides the mere geographical transfer of a noble bride. Karl-Heinz Spieß distinguishes various functions of a bridal journey: to manifest the power and prestige of the families of the bride and the groom (a representative function), to enable monarchs to communicate with each other (a diplomatic function), and to provide a ‘Staatschauspiel,’ a state drama by which order and rule are visualized (a festive function). Christiane Coester considers the bridal journey a social act with a hidden symbolic value.3 These considerations point to the fact that a bridal journey was not a mere geographical journey, but had deep-rooted implications that may be designated in one word: ritual. 

Duke Warcisław I of the Griffin dynasty ruled Pomerania at the time of the Christianising mission of Otto of Bamberg, initiated by Bolesław Krzywousty (Bolesław Wrymouth), conducted in 1124–25 and 1128. The three biographies of Otto of Bamberg constitute the richest source of information about Warcisław. In later sources, there are very few references to this Pomeranian duke; however, one event mentioned in some documents, over a span of several centuries, is the murder of Warcisław.  The question of the death of Warcisław is an important issue for many reasons. Primarily, an analysis of mentions of this event shows the modification of the image of Warcisław’s death in the historical sources. This is the result of borrowings from earlier texts and the different historical context of the creation of later sources. The main subject of this article is the sources from the twelfth to the sixteenth centuries, but the later views of scholars concerning Warcisław’s death are also discussed, which demonstrates that a discussion on this problem is taking place in historical writing to this day. 

Although knowledge concerning Romanesque architecture in Poland has developed over many years, most cathedrals and ducal or royal seats have not been comprehensively examined. Moreover, a substantial number of contemporary scholarly works have erased the thin line between material evidence and its interpretation. As a consequence, the architectural remains of Polish Romanesque edifices are often considered the basis for wider comparative research. Meanwhile, fragmentarily preserved structures of Romanesque buildings have allowed scholars to conduct research on their origins and models, but they have rarely provided enough information for spatial reconstructions of them. This means that one might investigate the process of transposing patterns from the Holy Roman Empire to Poland instead of the influence of Polish masons’ lodges on each other. Therefore, this paper has two aims. The first is to look at how imperial patterns affected the main stone structures (cathedrals and collegiate  churches) in Poland before Germanic urbanisation in the thirteenth century. The another is to analyse, how the changes in knowledge of Imperial archetypes might influence the interpretation of their Polish copies.

In August and September 1109, a war was fought between Henry V, King of Germany, and Prince Bolesław Krzywousty (Boleslaus Wrymouth) of Poland. Henry’s expedition against Poland was a response to the Polish ruler’s actions of the previous year, when his attack on Bohemia sparked the fiasco of the German expedition to Hungary. It was then that King Henry V had vowed to exact his revenge on Bolesław Krzywousty.1 Henry was encouraged to retaliate by the Czech duke Svatopluk,2 not only as a means of gaining revenge for earlier events, but also because Svatopluk’s rival for the throne, Bořivoj, ousted in 1107, had found sanctuary in Poland. Before the war, the German king had sent an envoy demanding that Bolesław Krzywousty reinstate his older brother Zbigniew, who had been removed from power and exiled from Poland. He also demanded that Bolesław pay a tribute of 300 silver grzywnas (marks) or supply 300 knights for an expedition (to Italy, where Henry V intended to assume the crown of the Holy Roman Empire).

Written around 1460, the Chronicle of Spišska Sobota is a rather short narrative in Ostmitteldeutsch which relates in a somewhat abbreviated form the history of the Kingdom of Hungary from the end of the tenth century, with a special emphasis on the past of the German- speaking communities of the Spiš (in Hungarian Szépes) region where it was created. Among information concerning local history, the chronicler relates briefly the murder of an officer of the Hungarian King Ladislas IV (1272–1290):

Czu dises koniges geczeiten, Anno d(omi)ni MCLXXVIII adyr eyn Jor dirfuer, Ist eyn her gewest ym Czips des koniges diner, der hatte den Czipsern gros widerdris und smocheit gethon, dorume dirschlugen sy yn und das ist geschen in Donnerstmargt, went In dem Jor Christi pey MCCCCXXVIII, do man den pron vuer der kirchen offente dervon langen Joren verdeckt was, do fandt man in dem selben pron vil menschen peyn und panczer und in dy keller fand man auch peyn, dorume musten dy Czipser disem konig Lasla gros gelt geben.