But she was not the bishop's daughter
Sed illa filia episcopi non fuit
- Chronici Hungarici compositio saeculi XIV, printed in Scriptores Rerum Hungaricarum tempore ducum regumque stirpis Arpadianae gestarum, ed. by Imre Szentpétery, vol. 1: 369
In a recent blogpost I wrote about
Hungary's three medieval king-saints, Stephen, Emeric and Ladislas.
In this blogpost I will present a fresco of St. Ladislas, whose
composition bears a striking resemblance to the dragon-slayer motif
from late medieval Italian Renaissance paintings. The fresco in
question was painted by nineteenth-century Hungarian painter Károly
Lotz in the Matthias Church in Budapest. (My thanks to art-historian
and blogger Nóra Vézpremy
for helping me with the ascertainment of its provenance.)
The fresco depicts one of the most
famous episodes from the hagiographical material of St. Ladislas. The
legend takes as its starting point the Battle of Kerlés in 1068
which was waged against the pagan Cumans, and tells of a daring and
chivalrous feat of King Ladislas. Although the story is set in the
mid-eleventh century, the legend itself is significantly more recent.
According to Gabor Klaniczay, the legend is a "thirteenth-century
interpolation of the twelfth-century original" (Klaniczay 2002:
190), brought to us from a fourteenth-century source. Naturally, this
story conveys the chivalric ideal of the 1200s rather than
eleventh-century preoccupations.
The story goes that Ladislas spotted a Cuman warrior riding away with a beautiful Hungarian woman, whom he thought to be the daughter of the bishop of Várad. Despite being wounded in the battle, the chivalrous and saintly king set after the pagan and almost managed to get close enough to stab the fleeing pagan with his lance. The horse could go no faster, nor did the other horse slow down, and Ladislas then called out to the Hungarian lady to grab hold of the Cuman and to throw herself to the ground. When Ladislas made ready to lunge his lance into the unhorsed enemy, the girl pleaded for his life, and the chronicler comments that this was surely sign of some illicit love between the two. The Cuman is nonetheless killed following a fight with Ladislas, and the girl turns out not to be the bishop's daughter.
The story goes that Ladislas spotted a Cuman warrior riding away with a beautiful Hungarian woman, whom he thought to be the daughter of the bishop of Várad. Despite being wounded in the battle, the chivalrous and saintly king set after the pagan and almost managed to get close enough to stab the fleeing pagan with his lance. The horse could go no faster, nor did the other horse slow down, and Ladislas then called out to the Hungarian lady to grab hold of the Cuman and to throw herself to the ground. When Ladislas made ready to lunge his lance into the unhorsed enemy, the girl pleaded for his life, and the chronicler comments that this was surely sign of some illicit love between the two. The Cuman is nonetheless killed following a fight with Ladislas, and the girl turns out not to be the bishop's daughter.
St. Ladislas and the Cuman Warrior
Károly Lotz, 19th century
The episode was very popular in the
cult of St. Ladislas, and it has been the subject of several
renditions in both text and image. One of the most important medieval
examples is perhaps the fourteenth-century Angevin Legendary.
In terms of time, Károly Lotz's fresco
is far removed from the origins of this legend, but as a Hungarian he
must have been very familiar with the story, and he also had a long
tradition of art to draw from in his depiction. As mentioned above,
the fresco is remarkably similar to certain depictions of the legend
of St. George as it was portrayed in late-medieval art. The poise of
the knight in the saddle is the most obvious feature, while the
defeat of the Cuman being positioned in the forefront of the scene
makes for interesting parallels with the vanquished dragon from the
legend of St. George.
There are, of course, also differences. In most of the depictions of St. George, the lady is situated comfortably a little way away from the main action, whereas Lotz has placed her in the forefront along with the Cuman warrior. This placement also draws the woman into the action itself, making her not only more visibly positioned, but also a vital part of the conflict itself.
I can not claim that Károly Lotz drew on this treasure trove of imagery in his composition of the St. Ladislas fresco, and even if he did, I can not with any certainty suggest from which images he drew his inspiration. However, to highlight the similarities between Lotz's fresco, I will present some late-medieval depictions of the famous scene of George fighting the dragon, and the readers can decide whether they agree or disagree. All pictures are taken from Wikimedia.
There are, of course, also differences. In most of the depictions of St. George, the lady is situated comfortably a little way away from the main action, whereas Lotz has placed her in the forefront along with the Cuman warrior. This placement also draws the woman into the action itself, making her not only more visibly positioned, but also a vital part of the conflict itself.
I can not claim that Károly Lotz drew on this treasure trove of imagery in his composition of the St. Ladislas fresco, and even if he did, I can not with any certainty suggest from which images he drew his inspiration. However, to highlight the similarities between Lotz's fresco, I will present some late-medieval depictions of the famous scene of George fighting the dragon, and the readers can decide whether they agree or disagree. All pictures are taken from Wikimedia.
St. George (Sant Jordi) fighting the dragon
Bertan Martorell, 1434-35
Rogier van der Weyden, before 1464
Altar wing from a church in Praha, c.1470
Raphael, 1505-06
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