Journal articles on the topic 'Knights of St. Mulumba'

During the early modern age the appointment of Maltese bishops involved conflicts in the management of ecclesiastical patronage, jurisdictional issues and international diplomacy. The procedure for appointment, established by Charles v in 1530 when he granted Malta to the Order of St John, was the result of a compromise: safeguarding rights of royal patronage without undermining the independence of an international military order. It is important, however, to underline the reforming activity conducted by bishops appointed in such political ways, especially through the application of some institutions provided by the Council of Trent, such as diocesan synods.

Ashmole MS 1121 in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, contains details of six Stall Plates which it would appear were removed from St George's Chapel following Degradation from the Order of the Garter. Of these, three are those of Companions whose names do not appear in the generally accepted lists of those who were formally degraded.

A theological-philosophical patron of crusades was St. Augustine of Hippo (354-430), one of the Fathers of Church, who in his The City of God (De Civitate Dei) assumed that the human mankind could be divided into two categories – the one constituting the civitas Dei, acting in the name of God, and civitas terrena, including disbelievers and Muslims. According to St. Augustine, the coming of Christ would put an end to the history of humanity – at that time believers would be rewarded with eternal happiness whereas disbelievers would be damned. Only when fighting in the name of God, in the defence of the Church, the knights could be useful for the society. This attitude was represented by Pope Gregory VII (1020-1085). A great propagator of the Augustinian doctrine was St. Bernard of Clairvaux (1090–1153) who reformed it for the sake of crusades. In his famous In Praise of the New Knighthood (De laude novae militae) he established the rule of the order of the Knights Templar. A motif of the martyr’s death could become a sufficient reason to undertake further actions of Christianisation, having the at the same time eschatological and practical dimension. In the context of an overall crusade movement, the martyrdom of St. Adalbert or Five Martyr Brothers as well as St. Bruno, seems to serve as a symbol and pretext for crusades being rather penitence pilgrimages of reconciliation with redemptory valor. There was nothing more convincing to undertake a military action than a penitential mission ensuring eternal salvation. It is presumed that even in the first period the missionary action might have been conducted by the Płock bishop Alexander of Malonne (1129-1156). On 3 March 1217 Pope Honorius III (1150–1227), presumably on the initiative of the then papal legate in Prussia, the Gniezno archbishop Henryk Kietlicz and bishop Chrystian (1180-1245), allowed the knights of Mazovia and Lesser Poland to organize an expedition to Prussia in return for participation in the Palestinian crusade. As the results of converting pagans by means of sword by Polish or Scandinavian expeditions were rather scarce, the orders were entrusted with a defence and development of the mission of Christianisation. They adopted a strategy to shatter the community of tribes – in Prussia by means of attracting the nobility, in Livonia by formenting discord among tribes.

AbstractBetween 1530 and 1798, Malta, the southernmost tip of Catholic Europe, was home to the military-religious Order of St John (of Malta). This organization traced its origins to the years just before the beginning of the crusades in late eleventh-century Palestine. From Malta, the Order sought to keep up its dual mission of hospitality (hence the appellative of hospitallers) and fighting the infidel Muslim at sea. From 1592 to 1768 the Society of Jesus was present in this Catholic outpost from where it supported the mission of the Order and sought to remould hospitaller piety. The relationship between these two organizations had ramifications that spread beyond tiny Malta, both because of the issues that arose between them, as well as because of the international composition of the Order and the Society. The Carnival of 1639 proved to be a defining moment in this relationship; though generally passed over as a ‘temporary disturbance’ this article emphasizes that it was more than this by looking at the dynamics of the links between hospitallers, Jesuits, the Inquisition, and Carnival. This article is based on a wider range of sources than previous studies, which will help to bring out the nuances of the subject under investigation.

Few incidents in the life of St Francis strike the art historian more than his demolition of the newly constructed chapter-hall in Assisi. As the date of a chapter at S. Maria della Portiuncula was fast approaching and there was no accommodation for the large number of friars expected, the people of Assisi built a house to shelter the incoming friars. Coming across this structure, Francis became so irritated that he climbed the roof and threw down tiles and rafters, and was only stopped when knights interfered and the municipality argued that the building belonged to them. Ironically, this same man had answered God’s call and had repaired the ruined churches of S. Damiano, St Peter, and S. Maria della Portiuncula in Assisi.

On 12 June 1798, Napoleon Bonaparte took control of the islands of Malta. The Knights Hospitaller surrendered with little fight, and the independently recognized polity of the Knights of St. John, the last bastion of the medieval chivalric orders, fell. Founded in the Middle Ages as a military order created both to carry the sword against Islam and provide shelter and medical care for pilgrims to the Holy Land, the Knights had by the end of the eighteenth century become an anachronism. The Ottoman Empire, the last of the great Muslim powers of the Mediterranean, had long been considered little more than a pawn in larger political struggles on the Continent. The practical application of crusading as church policy had long fallen out of favor. As a military force, the Order was no longer of any consequence. The Grand Council that directed the Order consisted for the most part of Maltese or Italian nobles of little formal training in the strategy and tactics of “modern” warfare. Historians of the late eighteenth century had come to the conclusion that the crusades of the Middle Ages were little more than the fanatical hate mongering of an unenlightened time. As Edward Gibbon wrote: “The principle of the crusades was a savage fanaticism; and the most important effects were analogous to the cause…. The belief of the Catholics was corrupted by new legends…. The active spirit of the Latins preyed on the vitals of their reason and religion…. The lives and labours of millions, which were buried in the East, would have been more profitably employed in the improvement of their native country….”

A comprehensive study is attempted of the pre-1600 monuments in St George's Chapel, Windsor Castle. Use is made for the first time of a key source, the set of plans of the chapel floors made by Henry Emlyn in 1789. These show the chapel once W have contained a large collection of monumental brasses. The plans are examined alongside the evidence of the extant indents in the chapel and cloister to reconstruct the original lay-out of the brasses. It is demonstrated that the great majority of the brasses commemorated the deans and canons who served the chapel. It is argued that the character of the chapel as a mausoleum changed after 1475, when Edward IV embarked on the building of the present fabric. From this time, the ranks of the commemorated expanded to include layfolk, particularly Knights of the Garter and men with royal connections, while, alongside the brasses, big sculpted monuments were commissioned in the side chapels of the building.

In this article, I examine how notions of charity shaped eighteenth-century literature. I begin by examining Horace Walpole’s philanthropy, which I argue belied his posthumous reputation for miserliness, and proceed to trace the theme of charity in Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto (1764), looking closely at the role of St. Nicholas, patron saint of gift-giving, who intervenes at crucial moments in the plot. I then reexamine Chatterton’s approach to Walpole in 1769 seeking patronage for his pseudo-medieval “Rowley” poems. Walpole’s infamous rejection stemmed in large part, I suggest, from his view that Chatterton, as a paid apprentice, was simply not entitled to a handout. Chatterton disagreed. A major revaluation of Chatterton’s “Rowley” poem, “An Excelente Balade of Charitie” (1769), follows. The poem, traditionally seen as a cry of despair, should rather be understood as a vigorous, indignantly satirical reworking of the Good Samaritan parable at Walpole’s expense. I conclude with reflections on how Walpole and Chatterton’s disagreement affected later ideas of charity for impoverished authors, and on the ways in which individual charitable practices might be said to influence literary form.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the late Middle Ages was the centre of a range of pilgrimage activity in which elite and popular beliefs and practices overlapped and complicated each other in exciting ways. The Jerusalem pilgrimage, in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries in particular, abounded in multiple levels of ‘elite’ and ‘popular’ experience. Through the pilgrimage writings of a fifteenth-century Dominican pilgrim named Felix Fabri, this paper will explore two specific levels: the distinction between noble and lower-class experiences of the Jerusalem pilgrimage (both physical and spiritual), and the distinction between spiritually ‘elite’ and ‘popular’ conceptions of pilgrimage itself – that uneasy balance between the spiritually-sophisticated, contemplative experience of pilgrimage promoted by St Jerome and the more ‘popular’ interest in traditional ‘tourist’ activities, such as gathering indulgences or stocking up on holy souvenirs and relics to take home. However, as we will see, even these tourist acts were grounded in the orthodox spirituality of late-medieval piety, and the elite and popular experiences of pilgrimage, whether social or spiritual, were not so distinct as they may first appear.

“The Publishing Club” of the State Public Historical Library of Russia (SPHL of Russia) continues its work in the “A.F. Losev House” Library. At the meeting of January, 2016 there was discussed the theme “Archival Document as a Source of Information”, as well as the projects associated with the publication of archival documents and being of interest to readers. There is presented the project of the author and publisher T.A. Lobashkova “Papers of Konstantinovichs of the Romanov Dynasty”, which includes a series of 11 publications since 2013. The new books in the genre of family chronicle were issued by the publishing house “Gelios-ARV” (“Egorievsk Olden Time” by S.T. Slovutinskyi, “The Memoirs of I.S. Turgenev Fa-mily” by V.N. Zhitova) and by SPHL of Russia (Slovutinsky S.T., “General Izmailov and his Servants”). The publishing house “Minuvshee” prepared a valuable reference edition of the book by Tula researcher M.Y. Klepov “Officers - Knights of St. George of the First World War. Martyrology”, published in the “Russian Necropoleis” series.

The singularity of the apparent clash of church and state in 1951 and its easy resolution in 1953 should alert us to the dangers of accepting the perception of events as the reality This paper attempts to explain the complexity of factors that gave rise to the appearance of conflict. The evolution of health policy, the relationship of de Valera and Archbishop McQuaid, the intricate politicking of the first inter-party government, the role of the Knights of St Columbanus, the lobbying of the Private Practitioners’ Group of the Irish Medical Association and the medical profession’s influence with the catholic church and the Irish government — these are some of the factors entangled in the controversy The crisis of 1951, however, provides the touchstone by which one can judge the relevance of any record, and the reader should bear; in mind that the confusion of influences covered here relates ultimately to the illusion of conflict. We must go back to the seminal period, the Emergency — the period of the Second World War — to begin to unravel perception from reality

AbstractRossiya yest' yevropeyskaya derzhava ("Russia is a European power") was Tsarina Catherine II's credo and program, a logical continuation of the policy of Tsar Peter the Great. Malta and the Order of St. John played an important role in Catherine's plan: the island of the knights was to serve as a bridgehead for a permanent Russian presence in the Mediterranean. Already in 1698 Tsar Peter had sent delegations and diplomats to Hospitaller Malta to negotiate a Russo-Maltese alliance against the Ottomans. In the 1760s a Russian chargé d'affaires was installed in Malta and the famous fleet of the Order was used by Russian officers for training, and in 1768 a plan was drawn up for a joint Russo-Maltese naval attack on the Greek mainland. But such moves must have brought about the united opposition of the Mediterranean powers as well as of that of the British. Even in such a "holy war" against their infidel archenemy, which would have been in perfect accord with its statutes, the Order of St. John could no longer act freely. Officially, France remained the main protector of the Order's neutrality, so until the end of the Ancien régime the Order did not risk an open alliance with Russia. In the long run, however, Tsarina Catherine's insistence had paved the way for extremely close Russo-Maltese relations to come when her son Paul became tsar and even was proclaimed as the new grand master of the Order of Malta.

The monastery founded in the fifth century by St Sabas, in the Kidron Valley a few kilometres south-east of Bethlehem, has been described as ‘the crucible of Byzantine Orthodoxy’. The original cave cell occupied by Sabas himself grew into a monastic community of the laura type, in which monks lived during the week in individual cells practising private prayer and craft work, but met for communal liturgy on Saturdays, Sundays and feast days. The laura, which differed from the coenobium in the greater emphasis placed on individual meditation, prayer and work, was the most distinctive contribution of the Palestinian tradition to early Christian monasticism. The first laura had been founded in the Judean desert in the fourth century by Chariton, and cenobitic monasteries had been in existence in Palestine both in the desert and on the coastal strip since the same period. Nevertheless, partly as a result of an extensive network of contacts with other foundations, both laurae and cenobitic monasteries, partly through Sabas s own fame as an ascetic, and partly through a burgeoning reputation for theological orthodoxy, St Sabas became the representative institution of Palestinian monasticism in the period between the fifth century and the Persian invasion of 614. The monastery’s capacity to withstand the Persian and Arab invasions of the seventh century, and to adapt to the cultural changes brought by Arabicization, ensured not only its survival but also its continued importance as a disseminator of monastic practice throughout the early Middle Ages. In 1099, when the first crusaders conquered the Holy Land, it was almost the sole survivor of the ‘golden age’ of Palestinian desert monasticism of the early Byzantine period. The monastery continued to prosper under crusader rule. It was an important landowner and its abbot was in the twelfth century a confrater of the Knights Hospitaller. Moreover, it is clear both from varied genres of external documentary sources – for example, pilgrimage accounts and hagiographies – and from the surviving manuscripts produced in the monastery between the eleventh and thirteenth centuries, that the monastery’s spiritual life also flourished in this period. The role of St Sabas and Palestinian monasticism within the broader scope of Byzantine monastic reform of the eleventh and twelfth centuries suggests that the continuing function of the monastery at the centre of a wider network of practices and ideals across the Orthodox world engendered a revival of early monastic practices in a period more often associated with decline and the struggle to preserve the integrity of monastic life.

The historian John Keegan was one of the first to ask the simple yet searching question: what actually happens in combat? It is well known that English footsoldiers received a charge by French knights at the battle of Agincourt in 1415, but what took place when men and horses collided? Keegan gives his answers in The Face of Battle, and it may be time for musicologists to modulate the sonorous questions that he poses there for their own purposes. What actually happened, for example, when a motet by Johannes Ciconia was performed in northern Italy c 1400? When friends and associates gathered together to hear such music, what was the nature of their various musical aptitudes and interests? Did women participate in the performances? What was the role of instrumentalists? Some of these questions, no doubt, will never find an answer; there are no medieval chronicles devoted to musical gatherings as there are chronicles – and many other writings – devoted to battles like Agincourt. None the less, literary and iconographical sources are among those which may still have something to reveal about ‘the face of performance’ (to coin a phrase after Keegan's own), and the purpose of this article is to examine the contents of one that has been unjustly neglected: the Tractatulus de differentiis et gradibus cantorum by Arnulf de St Ghislain. This brief treatise classifies the kinds of musicians who performed or admired polyphonic music and is therefore quite exceptional among the works loosely classified as medieval music theory.

AbstractThe conventional view is that Malta has been on the ‘forgotten frontier’ of Christian maritime resistance to Islamic expansionism since the Islamic invasions of North Africa in the seventh century. The limited archival and archeological evidence suggests that, up to the arrival of the Order of the Knights of St John of Jerusalem in Malta in 1530, this picture is not accurate. The Islamic occupation of the Maltese archipelago in 870 created a cosmopolitan Muslim society which persisted until the mid-thirteenth century, despite the Norman conquest of the region in 1090. Indeed, the formal end of Muslim society in Malta only came in 1224, as a side-result of the Hohenstauffen suppression of a Muslim rebellion in Sicily.Even under the Order of St John contacts with the Muslim world were far closer than is conventionally supposed. The Grand Master of the Order maintained close contacts with the Qaramanlis in Tripoli and the Beys of Tunis during the eighteenth century, despite the continuation of the corso. In reality, contacts had always existed and had been recognised as essential by the Holy See because Malta could not sustain its population once it had exceeded 10,000 persons. Sicily, the obvious source of supply, often exerted undesirable political pressure and the Barbary coast was the only other alternative. The main legacy of the close contacts between Malta and the North African Muslim world, however, is to be found, even today, in the Maltese language, which is really a Medieval variant of North African Arabic.

AbstractOriginally a charitable monastic institution devoted to the care of Christian pilgrims in the Holy Land, the Hospitallers of St. John became a military order during the twelfth century. The arrival of the Order of St. John in Malta in 1530 brought this island to the attention of European leaders and their subjects; indeed, the number of visitors who wrote about their sojourns on the island in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries is remarkable. At this time private military tours to Malta came to be integrated into what was called the Cavalier's Tour. The famous caravans of the fleet of the Order of St. John played a special role in this development, since participation in the caravans-usually involving naval engagements against the infidel-was considered an integral part of a gentleman's education. The survival of the chivalric Order of St. John seems to testify to the spiritual and cultural continuity of the Crusades up through the period of the Counter Reformation. But closer examination of individual European travelers suggests a rather pragmatic and quite "tolerant" approach to the foreign world. This essay concentratcs on Northern European sources, as it was mainly the Northerners who made the Cavalier's Tour a regular ritual, often entailing the compilation of a detailed travel diary. The accounts of the travelers from Prussia, the Scandinavian countries and central and south Germany show that both Catholics and Protestants alike came to Malta, mainly for reasons of fame, career and the acquisition of military and nautical experience. By the middle of the eighteenth century the Order and its fleet had degenerated to an ornamental show. This decline coincided with the end of the phenomenon dealt with here. In the so-called "Grand Tour" of the second half of the eighteenth century-mostly undertaken by rich Englishmen-there was no space for a trip "adversus infideles." This new type of tour was meant for private pleasure and cultural education. The Ottoman empire was no longer seen as a threat. In contrast to the old emnity, there was a new vogue for things "oriental." The island of Malta and the state of the Knights became an object of curiosity and romantic chivalry.

At the time when encyclopaedic works on the military orders began to be produced in the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, it was widely held that the military order was an institution which had existed for most of the Christian era. Many of the orders catalogued in these volumes were reported to have been founded well before the period of the crusades, although there were often conflicting opinions about the precise antiquity of a particular foundation. Various dates were, for example, given for the establishment of the military order which the knights of the Holy Sepulchre were thought to constitute: although some held that it had been founded shortly after the first crusade, its creation was attributed by others to St James the Less in the first century A.D., while its origins were also placed in the time of Constantine and in that of Charlemagne. The foundation of the order of Santiago, which in fact occurred in 1170, was often traced back to the ninth century; yet while some linked it with the supposed discovery of the body of St James during the reign of Alfonso 11, others associated it with the legendary victory of Clavijo, which was placed in the time of Ramiro i. The accumulation of myth and tradition recorded in these encyclopaedias has exercised a prolonged influence on historians of the military orders: disproof has not always been sufficient to silence a persistent tradition. It is, nevertheless, clear that the Christian military order, in the sense of an institution whose members combined a military with a religious way of life, in fact originated during the earlier part of the twelfth century in the Holy Land.

I draw the historical background with the question of how the city has for centuries been communicating with visual signs with its so different external sovereigns. After general remarks, I focus on the ruler’s relationship with the city during the Teutonic Knights’ era, as the example serving the Teutonic castle in Gdansk, from the beginning of its construction to the story of its demolition.
 The Teutonic castle was built, according to the message of Wigand of Marburg, during the time of Grand Master Dietrich von Altenburg around 1340. Unlike the dating, its form disappears in the darkness of history. Archaeologists have proven the existence of a castle complex consisting of the main castle and two baileys on the site of the former castle of the Pomeranian dynasty of Samborids. The convent house: a square with sides of about 53 m, had four residential wings grouped around the courtyard, three towers at the corners, and a high guard tower.
 The article then deals with the castle as a kind of a protagonist of the drama in the war for symbols, developing in four scenes. The first took place after the Battle of Grunwald in 1410, when the town paid homage to Polish King Władysław Jagiello, but in the autumn of 1410 it returned to the rule of the Teutonic Order. In the following months, the city authorities reacted negatively to the attempt of the Grand Master Henry von Plauen to raise taxes. Mayors and members of the City Council: Konrad Letzkau, Arnold Hecht, and Bartholomew (Bartholomäus) Gross, were invited to the Teutonic Knights’ Castle in spring 1411 under the pretext of negotiations, and there they were murdered in unclear circumstances. The town responded by burying both mayors, and probably Gross as well, in the ambulatory of St Mary’s Church, (possibly) in St Hedwig’s Chapel belonging to the Letzkau family. The tombstone (nowadays destructed after the fire of 1734), which preserved anti–Teutonic sentiments, became an attraction for visitors, and was excluded from the normal burial practice of St Mary’s Church in the early modern times.
 Another part of our dispute occurred in 1453, when the Gdansk delegates complained at the Reich’s conciliatory assembly in Vienna about the Gdansk Commander forbidding to continue the construction of the tower of St John’s Church. On this basis, Olaf Asendorf constructed a theory on the general prohibition of building high towers in the Teutonic state, the so-called turmverbote. However, we have no proof that such a ban existed in any form, and apart from two other messages from Elbląg and Kaliningrad, former Königsberg, we cannot trace this kind of regulation in the written sources. On the other hand, none of the towers dominating the panorama of Gdansk was built before 1457. It was only after the transition to Polish sovereignty that the construction of the towers of St John’s Church, St Catherine’s Church, St Mary’s Church, and the Town Hall tower continued. The case from 1453 fits the hypothesis of fighting with the Order with the use of the city’s symbol, but this is rather a hysterical reaction of the economically and politically weakened corporation, which tries to enforce the city’s obedience by prohibiting the further construction of the tower of St John’s Church.
 The events of the Thirteen Years’ War (1454–1466): Gdansk was to throw off the yoke of the Teutonic Knights’ power and voluntarily surrender to the power of the Polish monarchy together with the guarantee of maximum privileges, are the backdrop to the next stage of our battle with the use of symbols. Most probably in February 1454, a decision was made to demolish the fortress, which could potentially become the seat of the new ruler, thus threatening the autonomy of the city. During the negotiations between the Gdansk envoys and Casimir IV Jagiello in February and March 1454 in Cracow, the delegates secretly sent the following letter to the City Council: ‘ Those of the seats [castles of the Teutonic knights] that were demolished are to remain destroyed, but we are not [allowed] to continue the demolition of these castles without consulting or informing the Lord King and the Estates. Hence, good friends, if you have not destroyed them, we advise you in all your power that you are to dismantle them the sooner the better, before we are back home, because the Lord King is “drooling” at the thought of Gdansk’. In the original hern conynge henget de lunge sere up Danczik is an idiomatic Lower German term, literally meaning King hangs his lung [to occupy the castle], so he cares a lot about it. This is what happened. Just like in Elbląg, Toruń and Bartoszyce and partly in Królewiec, the municipal authorities thoroughly demolished the Teutonic Castle.
 As early as in 1857, August Lobegott Randt noted, without mentioning the source, that when the star vaults over the main hall of the Artus Manor were unfastened in 1478–1481, pillars from the Teutonic Castle were used; this theory was taken up by almost all later literature. A whole range of other relics in various places in Gdansk made of sandstone or granite, together with the latest finding in St Mary’s Church from 2020, are now connected with the Castle. This theory fits perfectly with the considerations of political iconography. In the Artus Court, the first monumental building completed after the Grand Permit of 1457, architectural details from the former seat of the supreme authority are placed, since it is where the elites of the new republic meet.
 Together with the demolition of the Castle, the knowledge of its silhouette was lost. Only indirectly does the image give us a fascinating iconographic message, which for me is the fourth episode of the ‘battle with the use of images’. In the painting ‘The Ship of the Church’ from the Artus Manor, destroyed in 1945: a representation of a ship armed with cannons symbolizing the community of Gdansk, in one corner rather a small depiction of a castle can be seen. It shows the main tower, the evidence of which was proven by the 2002 archaeological researches. Its unusual spire evokes obvious associations with the Flemish–Brabantine belfry towers: free–standing towers or towers inscribed in town halls or cloth halls being symbols of urban self–government. What is the function of the representation of the Teutonic castle in the painting? Who was its author and fundator? According to Adam Labuda’s interpretation, it is the pendant to the painting ‘Siege of Malbork’, lost in 1945 – of almost identical dimensions, stylistically similar – and seems to be the work of the same painter. Together with the latter, it conveys the story of the battle for the gained independence of Gdansk, a powerful and rich city, united in religion and under the sceptre of the King. It is possible that the paintings were executed in connection with the would–be visit to the city of Jan Olbracht in 1501, or another entry of Alexander I in 1504. But what remains a puzzle is the function of a Teutonic castle with a Flemish helmet in the painting. Was it only related to the possible Dutch origin of the artist, or was it a political message, wishful thinking of the founders: an allusion to Gdansk as an independent city?
 The article on its first level interprets a non–existent building which has become the protagonist, the pretext, and the background of the multi–act drama of ‘the battle with the use of images’. More generally, it states the entanglement of Gdansk art and architecture in politics as a characteristic feature of this metropolis through all epochs. Yet above all, I would like to thank Małgorzata Omilanowska, the one to whom we dedicate this volume, because without her initiative I would never have started teaching in this fascinating city and thus researching its art history.

One of the exceptionally interesting examples of a living biblical tradition, maintained by Christian, Muslim and Jewish pilgrims for over sixteen hundred years, is the history of St. Samuel monastery on the Mount of Joy. The shrine was founded in the Byzantine period, but its heyday falls on the period of the Crusades. It was from here, after the murderous journey, that the troops of the First Crusade saw Jerusalem for the first time. The knights were followed by more and more pilgrims. On the hill, called Mons Gaudii, the Premonstratensians built their monastery, which in time became a real pilgrimage center. Based on the preserved traces, the author reconstructs the Christian chapters of the history of Nabi Samuel. He recalls people, events and traditions related to it, and also the accounts of pilgrims coming here.Christians left the Mons Gaudii probably at the end of the 12th century. Worship of the prophet Samuel were taken over by Muslims and Jews. For the latter the Tomb of Prophet Samuel became one of the most important places of pilgrimage, in some periods even more important than Jerusalem itself. There were numerous disputes and conflicts about holding control over this place, there were even bloody battles. In 1967 this place was taken by the Israeli army. Over time, a national park was created in the area around the mosque, in the mosque itself was established a place of prayer for Jews, and a synagogue in the tomb crypt. A slightly forgotten sanctuary began to warm up emotions anew.

В статье собраны и проанализированы те немногие сведения об императорском Ордене Святого Благоверного Князя Александра Невского, что содержались в Установлении о российских орденах 1797 г. Этот юридический памятник обязан своим появлением неосуществленному проекту императора Павла I учредить единственный в стране Российский Кавалерский Орден, «классом» которого предстояло стать дотоле суверенной институции Св. князя Александра. Поскольку Установление 1797 г. не имело цели восполнить отсутствие на тот момент статутов орденов Свв. Андрея Первозванного и Александра Невского, то чересчур лаконичные и отрывочные упоминания обоих фалеронимов в документе оставило много лакун в описании орденской организации. В частности, Орден Св. Александра, задуманный императором Петром I как первая универсальная специализированная награда столь высокого ранга за заслуги, не получил ясно сформулированных квалификационных требований к потенциальным реципиентам. После отказа государя Павла Петровича от затеи с Российским Кавалерским Орденом, орденская институция Св. князя Александра Невского продолжила свое суверенное существование вплоть до последних дней существования исторической России, однако полноценного уставного документа так и не обрела. Социальные пертурбации эпохи «дворцовых бурь», приводившие к череде поражения в правах представителей политической элиты, приводили к неоднократному повторному вступлению некоторых из них в один и тот же орден. В статье этот феномен отечественной фалеристики рассматривается на примере троекратного пожалования инсигний датского Ордена Слона князю Василию Владимировичу Долгорукову и двукратного вручения регалий Ордена Св. князя Александра Невского светлейшему князю Александру Александровичу Меншикову. The article lists and analyzes a few details of the Imperial Order of Saint Alexander Nevsky that are available from the Statute of Russian Orders of 1797. This juridical artifact owes its advent to the failed attempt of Paul I of Russia to establish the only Knights Hospitaller in Russia which was aimed at providing the sovereign status of Saint Alexander Nevsky. Since the Statute of 1797 was not intended to establish the absent orders of St. Andrew the First-Called (Andrew the Apostle) and Alexander Nevsky, laconic and fragmentary mentions of both phaleronyms in the document left many gaps in the description of the order organization. Particularly, the Order of Saint Alexander Nevsky conceived by Peter the Great as the first unified themed award of merit of such a high rank did not receive clearly stated recipient specifications. Following the failure of Paul I's project of Russian Knights Hospitaller, the order institution of Saint Alexander Nevsky retained its sovereignty until the last days of historical Russia; however, a full-fledged statute was not developed. During the Era of Palace Coups, the social disturbance resulted in a series of defeats in the rights of the elite political class forcing some representatives to repeatedly re-enter the same order. In the article, the phenomenon of Russian phaleristics is studied on the example of Prince Vasily Vladimirovich Dolgorukov triply awarded insignia of the Danish Order of the Elephant and Prince Alexander Alexandrovich Menshikov awarded the regalia of the Order of Saint Alexander Nevsky twice.

In 2021, the 135th anniversary of George Semenovich Vereiskiy (1886–1962) was celebrated. Vereiskiy was a talented, methodical, and self-disciplined artist who focused on the subject of his work. He was a member of the “World of Art” association, curator of the State Hermitage’s Department of Engravings, teacher of painting, laureate of the second degree of the Stalin Prize (1946), People’s Artist of the RSFSR (1962), honored worker of the arts, and member of the Academy of Arts. Vereiskiy was involved in various forms of art, especially drawing and painting. He worked in many genres (portrait, landscape, interior, still life, residential and industrial genres). In his drawings and lithographs in the 1920–30s, he was a pioneer of industrial themes. The main source of his work was love for Russian nature (his landscapes are imbued with a soft lyricism). His clarity of perception of the surrounding reality and high civil position enabled him to make the most important aspect of art — a portrait. Without exaggeration, it can be argued that Vereiskiy for more than half a century created a large portrait gallery of his contemporaries, from science and artists to the Knights of St. George from the First World War and military officials of World War II (1941–1945). Vereiskiy’s artistic heritage is very extensive and it is still waiting for its explorer. This article was created in order to establish a precursor for the study of the artist’s creative heritage, fragmentarily concentrated in a number of museum collections, which are discussed below. The reference point to the artist’s creative heritage is his autobiography, which the article introduces into scientific circulation for the first time.

AbstractIn 1625 the Monastery of St. John's in Haarlem, which housed the local Order of the Knights of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem (Hospitallers), was dissolved. The property, including a large collection of paintings, passed to the City of Haarlem, which claimed all the monasteries in the district of Haarlen as compensation for damage sustairted during the siege and rebellion against Spain. In the monastery's archives, now in the Haarlem Municipal Archives, memorial panels are menizoned fourteen times. Nine of thern occur in three inventories of 1573, one in a testament of 1574 and the rest in the Commander's accounts of 1572, 1573 and 1574. In the case of six of the thirteen items there is no description of the representation at all; one is simply said to depict a number of persons. Four of the six other items are Passion representations. Like The Last Judgment, such themes are in keeping with the functiort of a memorial panel. The description of one epitaph as 'in laudem artis musiccs' is not sufficiently clear to give an idea of the representation. More information is available as to the patrons or commemorated persons. All of them seem to have been members of the Order of St. John: four panels were memorials to commanders, three to ordinary hospitallers and one painting commemorated the founder of the monastery. All were priests. Nothing in the archives suggests that the church contained memorials to non-members of the order. This must nonetheless have been the case: a 'Liber- memoriarum' compiled in 1570 indicates that numerous memorial services were held for the laity, many of whom apparently chose St. John's as their last resting-place. It is thus highly likely that memorials for these worshippers were placed in the church. A 1572 inventory of St. John's Monastery makes no mention of memorial panels, probably because the contents of the church were not listed. After the monastery had been destroyed during the siege of Haarlem, three inventories were drawn up: one of the ruined monastery, one of the items - mainly paintings which were moved to Utrecht, and one of the property taken to the Sint Adriaansdoelen, the temporary home of the order after the destruction of the monastery. Only in these three inventories are epitaphs mentioned. The inventories of 1580 and 1606 were drawn up by order of the City, the claimant to the mortastery's propery. They make no mention of private possessions, not even those of the members of the Order. The 1625 inventory, drawn up after the death of the last inmate, only mentiorts the painting that was bought by the convent to be placed on the grave of its founder. Epitaphs which were not orderend by the convent were probably regarded as private property, and passed to the heirs prior to 1625. Exact dates cannot be ascertained. The author has identified two epitaphs and a painting coming from St. John's. It is not clear whether the small painting of Mary, her cousin Elizabeth and Commander Jan Willem Jansz. (1484-1514) (Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Weimar) is (part of) an epitaph or a devotional painting (ill. 2). The 1572 inventory mentions a picture of Jan Willem. It is not described, but the painting in Weimar is a likely candidate because of its small size (72 x 50). The 1573 inventory of the property in the Adriaansdoelen lists a wing of the epitaph of 'Heer Jan', but again, the representation is not described. The 17thcentury genealogist Opt Straeten van der Moelen described the four family coats of arms on the painting, but said nothing about the representation or where he saw it. It was possible to identify the Hospitaller in the Weimar work because of the armorial shield hanging on a tree behind the kneeling figure. The arms correspond with what Opt Straeten van der Moelen described as the arms of the Hospitaller's father, and with a wax impression of Jan Willem Jansz.'s arms (ill. 1) on a document of 1494, now in the Haarlem Municipal Archive. The date and painter of the picture are not known. In the series of portraits of the Commanders of St. John's Monastery in Haarlem (Frans Hals Museum) is a second portrait of Jan Willem. In this, the seventeenth portrait in the series (ill. 3), he is grey-haired, in contrast to the Weimar painting, in which he is depicted with black hair. Jan Willem Jansz. was born in about 1450. In 1484 he was elected Commander of the order, a function which he held until his death in 1514. The Bowes Museum, Durham, owns a triptych of an Entombment (ills. 4 and 5). On the middle panel is a kneeling Knight Hospitaller; on each of the side panels are four persons, arranged in pairs. One of them, on the right wing, is another member of the Order. Coats of arms can be seen on the prie-dieu's behind which three of the four couples kneel, and on the back of the panels (ill. 6). Comparison of these arms with the one on the seal of Philips van Hogesteyn, Commander of the Order frorn 1571 to 1574, suggests that this is his epitaph (ill. 7). The memorial panel is mentioned in the 1573 inventory of property in the Adriaansdoelen. In 1570, before becoming prior of the monastery, Philips had a 'Liber memoriarum' compiled which contained the names of his grandparents and parents. His grandmother came from the Van Arkel family, whose arms bore two opposing embattled bars. This coal of arms facilitated identification of the couples on the left wing. The grandparents are kneeling behind the last prie-dieu - the Van Arkel arms are on the heraldic left of the shield. In front of them are Philips van Hogesteyn's parents. It is harder to establish the identity of the people on the right wing, but the couple kneeling behind the prie-dieu are very likely Philips' brother and sister-in-law. The woman behind them could be his sister. The brother and sister are mentioned in his will, which he made in 1568. However, it is not clear who the Hospitaller on this panel is. It could be an unknown member of the family, but it is also possible that Philips van Hogesteyn was depicted in the triplych twice, first simply as a member of the family on one wing and again, later on in life, on the middle panel as the most important patron. Besides this painted epitaph, an elegy on Philips van Hogesteyn, written bij Cornelys Schonaeus, headmaster of the Latin school in Haarlem, has been preserved. This poem only mentions the effigy of the late Philips in front of the 'worthy reader' - not a word about his family. The 1572 inventory lists two separate portraits of Philips. It is not known where he was buried, nor has it been possible to establish whether his epitaph, with or without the elegy, or a portrait plus an elegy were ever placed on his grave. The painter is not mentioned by name anywhere either. Philips van Hogesteyn took holy orders in 1553. Assuming that he was 17 years old when he joined the Order of St. John, he would have entered the monastery in 1544. If this assumption is correct and he is portrayed twice on the triplych, it could have been painted any time from 1544 on. The reason for the commission must remain unanswered. In the Catharijneconvent Museum in Utrechl is a triptych with a Crucifixion. On the left wing is a kneeling man in a chasuble and stole, and on the right wing a Hospitaller (ill. 8). Today the outsides of the panels are empty. In the catalogue of an exhibition of North-Netherlandish painting and sculpture before 1575, held in 1913, however, the vestiges of the armorial shields -- four on each panel - are mentioned. Apparently this is an epitaph for a member of the Oem van Wijngaarden family, brought to Utrecht in 1573. The Hospitaller is Tieleman Oem van Wijngaarden, who was living in St. John's Monastery in Haarlem at the beginning of the 16th century and died in 1518 person on the right-hand panel appears to be Dirk van Raaphorst -- also known as Dirk van Noordwijk. The Utrecht triptych is identified here as the Van Wijngaarden epitaph from St. John's Monastery despite the fact that the description of shield I on the right-hand panel does not point towards the Oem van Wijngaarden family. Thanks to the fourth shield on the same panel, still in fairly good condition in 1913, it was possible, by dint of invenstigating Tieleman's family, to establish him as the person portrayed on the right-hand panel (see Appendix II). Dirk van Raaphorst of Noordwijk was a canon of St. Pancras' Church in Leiden. He probably owed the name 'van Raaphorst of Noordwijk' to the fact that he was called after his maternal grandfather. For the same reason, the armorial shields on the back of the lefthand panel are not arranged in the usual manner but inverted, i being the mother's arms, II the father's (see also Appendix III). Dirk van Noordwijk was a nephew of Tieleman Oem van Wijngaarden (see Appendix IV). He died in 1502. In 15 18 Tieleman was buried in the same grave in the church of St. John's Monastery. This memorial panel, too, prompts several questions. It is not clear why distant relatives, whose deaths moreover were sixteen years apart, were commemorated on the same panel. Neither the painter nor the dale of the triptych is known. However, perhaps the source of Tieleman's portrait can be established (fig.9). The features in this portrait bear a marked resemblance to those in the portrait of the Hospitaller on the Van Wijngaarden epitaph in Utrecht. Despite publications on individual North-Netherlandish memorial panels, no scholarly examination of the total number of known pieces has yet been initiated. The author is preparing such an examination, which may yield more insight into the customs pertaining to the corramemoration of the dead and the place accupied by memorial panels.

Recent conservation and restoration work on the icon of the Virgin and Child which stood on the altar in the Church of St. Nicholas at Prijeko in Dubrovnik has enabled a new interpretation of this paining. The icon, painted on a panel made of poplar wood, features a centrally-placed Virgin holding the Child in her arms painted on a gold background between the two smaller figures of St. Peter and St. John the Baptist. The figures are painted in the manner of the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Dubrovnik style, and represent a later intervention which significantly changed the original appearance and composition of the older icon by adding the two saints and touching up the Virgin’s clothes with Renaissance ornaments, all of which was performed by the well-known Dubrovnik painter Nikola Božidarević. It can be assumed that the icon originally featured a standing or seated Virgin and Child. The Virgin is depicted with her head slightly lowered and pointing to the Christ Child whom she is holding on her right side. The chubby boy is not seated on his mother’s lap but is reclining on his right side and leaningforward while his face is turned towards the spectator. He is dressed in a red sleeveless tunic with a simple neck-line which is embroidered with gold thread. The Child is leaning himself on the Virgin’s right hand which is holding him. He is firmly grasping her thumb with one hand and her index finger with the other in a very intimate nursing gesture while she, true to the Hodegitria scheme, is pointing at him with her left hand, which is raised to the level of her breasts. Such an almost-realistic depiction of Christ as a small child with tiny eyes, mouth and nose, drastically departs from the model which portrays him with the mature face of an adult, as was customary in icon painting. The Virgin is wearing a luxurious gold cloak which was repainted with large Renaissance-style flowers. Her head is covered with a traditional maphorion which forms a wide ring around it and is encircled by a nimbus which was bored into thegold background. Her skin tone is pink and lit diffusely, and was painted with almost no green shadows, which is typical of Byzantine painting. The Virgin’s face is striking and markedly oval. It is characterized by a silhouetted, long, thin nose which is connected to the eyebrows. The ridge of the nose is emphasized with a double edge and gently lit whilethe almond-shaped eyes with dark circles are set below the inky arches of the eyebrows. The Virgin’s cheeks are smooth and rosy while her lips are red. The plasticity of her round chin is emphasized by a crease below the lower lip and its shadow. The Virgin’s eyes, nose and mouth are outlined with a thick red line. Her hands are light pink in colour and haveelongated fingers and pronounced, round muscles on the wrists. The fingers are separated and the nails are outlined with precision. The deep, resounding hues of the colour red and the gilding, together with the pale pink skin tone of her face, create an impression of monumentality. The type of the reclining Christ Child has been identified in Byzantine iconography as the Anapeson. Its theological background lies in the emphasis of Christ’s dual nature: although the Christ Child is asleep, the Christ as God is always keeping watch over humans. The image was inspired by a phrase from Genesis 49: 9 about a sleeping lion to whom Christ is compared: the lion sleeps with his eyes open. The Anapeson is drowsy and awake at the same time, and therefore his eyes are not completely shut. Such a paradox is a theological anticipation of his “sleep” in the tomb and represents an allegory of his death and Resurrection. The position, gesture and clothes of the Anapeson in Byzantine art are not always the same. Most frequently, the ChristChild is not depicted lying in his mother’s arms but on an oval bed or pillow, resting his head on his hand, while the Virgin is kneeling by his side. Therefore, the Anapeson from Dubrovnik is unique thanks to the conspicuously humanized relationship between the figures which is particularly evident in Christ’s explicitly intimate gesture of grasping the fingers of his mother’s hand: his right hand is literally “inserting” itself in the space between the Virgin’s thumb and index finger. At the same time, the baring of his arms provided the painter with an opportunity to depict the pale tones of a child’s tender skin. The problem of the iconography of the Anapeson in the medieval painting at Dubrovnik is further complicated by a painting which was greatly venerated in Župa Dubrovačka as Santa Maria del Breno. It has not been preserved but an illustration of it was published in Gumppenberg’sfamous Atlas Marianus which shows the Virgin seated on a high-backed throne and holding the sleeping and reclining Child. The position of this Anapeson Christ does not correspond fully to the icon from the Church of St. Nicholas because the Child is lying on its back and his naked body is covered with the swaddling fabric. The icon of the Virgin and Child from Prijeko claims a special place in the corpus of Romanesque icons on the Adriatic through its monumentality and intimate character. The details of the striking and lively Virgin’s face, dominated by the pronounced and gently curved Cimabuesque nose joined to the shallow arches of her eyebrows, link her with the Benedictine Virgin at Zadar. Furthermore, based on the manner of painting characterized by the use of intense red for the shadows in the nose and eye area, together with the characteristic shape of the elongated, narrow eyes, this Virgin and Child should be brought into connection with the painter who is known as the Master of the Benedictine Virgin. The so-called Benedictine Virgin is an icon, now at the Benedictine Convent at Zadar, which depicts the Virgin seated on a throne with a red, ceremonial, imperial cushion, in a solemn scheme of the Kyriotissa, the heavenly queen holding the Christ Child on her lap. The throne is wooden and has a round back topped with wooden finials which can also be seen in the Byzantine Kahn Virgin and the Mellon Madonna, as well as in later Veneto-Cretan painting. The throne is set under a shallow ciborium arch which is rendered in relief and supportedby twisted colonettes and so the painting itself is sunk into the surface of the panel. A very similar scheme with a triumphal arch can be seen on Byzantine ivory diptychs with shallow ciborium arches and twisted colonettes. In its composition, the icon from Prijeko is a combination ofthe Kyr i ot i ss a and the Hodegitria, because the Virgin as the heavenly queen does not hold the Christ Child frontally before her but on her right-hand side while pointing at him as the road to salvation. He is seated on his mother’s arm and is supporting himself by pressing his crossed legsagainst her thigh which symbolizes his future Passion. He is wearing a formal classical costume with a red cloak over his shoulder. He is depicted in half profile which opens up the frontal view of the red clavus on his navy blue chiton.He is blessing with the two fingers of his right hand and at the same time reaching for the unusual flower rendered in pastiglia which the Virgin is raising in her left hand and offering to him. At the same time, she is holding the lower part of Christ’s body tightly with her right hand.Various scholars have dated the icon of the Benedictine Virgin to the early fourteenth century. While Gothic features are particularly evident in the costumes of the donors, the elements such as the modelling of the throne and the presence of the ceremonial cushion belong to the Byzantine style of the thirteenth century. The back of the icon of the Benedictine Virgin features the figure of St. Peter set within a border consisting of a lively and colourful vegetal scroll which could be understood as either Romanesque or Byzantine. However, St. Peter’s identifying titulus is written in Latin while that of the Virgin is in Greek. The figure of St. Peter was painted according to the Byzantine tradition: his striking and severe face is rendered linearly in a rigid composition, which is complemented by his classical contrapposto against a green-gray parapet wall, while the background is of dark green-blue colour. Equally Byzantine is themanner of depicting the drapery with flat, shallow folds filled with white lines at the bottom of the garment while, at the same time, the curved undulating hem of the cloak which falls down St. Peter’s right side is Gothic. The overall appearance of St. Peter is perhaps even more Byzantine than that of the Virgin. Such elements, together with the typically Byzantine costumes, speak clearly of a skilful artist who uses hybrid visual language consisting of Byzantine painting and elements of the Romanesque and Gothic. Of particular interest are the wide nimbuses surrounding the heads of the Virgin and Child (St. Peter has a flat one) which are rendered in relief and filled with a neat sequence of shallow blind archesexecuted in the pastiglia technique which, according to M. Frinta, originated in Cyprus. The Venetian and Byzantine elements of the Benedictine Virgin have already been pointed out in the scholarship. Apart from importing art works and artists such as painters and mosaic makers directly from Byzantium into Venice, what was the extent and nature of the Byzantineinfluence on Venetian artistic achievements in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries? We know that the art of Venice and the West alike were affected by the Fourth Crusade and the sack of Constantinople in 1204, and by the newly founded Latin Empire which lasted until 1261.The Venetians played a particularly significant political and administrative role in this Empire and the contemporary hybrid artistic style of the eastern Mediterranean, called Crusader Art and marked by the strong involvement of the Knights Templar, must have been disseminated through the established routes. In addition to Cyprus, Apulia and Sicily which served as stops for the artists and art works en route to Venice and Tuscany, another station must have been Dalmatia where eastern and western influences intermingled and complemented each other.However, it is interesting that the icon of the Benedictine Virgin, apart from negligible variations, imitates almost completely the iconographic scheme of the Madonna di Ripalta at Cerignola on the Italian side of the Adriatic, which has been dated to the early thirteenth century and whose provenance has been sought in the area between southern Italy (Campania) and Cyprus. Far more Byzantine is another Apulian icon, that of a fourteenth-century enthroned Virgin from the basilica of St. Nicholas at Bari with which the Benedictine Virgin from Zadar shares certain features such as the composition and posture of the figures, the depictionof donors and Christ’s costume. A similar scheme, which indicates a common source, can be seen on a series of icons of the enthroned Virgin from Tuscany. The icon of the Virgin and Child from Prijeko is very important for local Romanesque painting of the late thirteenth and early fourteenth century because it expands the oeuvre of the Master of the Benedictine Virgin. Anicon which is now at Toronto, in the University of Toronto Art Centre Malcove Collection, has also been attributed to this master. This small two-sided icon which might have been a diptych panel, as can be judged from its typology, depicts the Virgin with the Anapeson in the upper register while below is the scene from the martyrdom of St. Lawrence. The Virgin is flanked by the figures of saints: to the left is the figure of St. Francis while the saint on the right-hand side has been lost due to damage sustained to the icon. The busts of SS Peter and Paul are at the top.The physiognomies of the Virgin and Child correspond to those of the Benedictine Virgin and the Prijeko icon. The Anapeson, unlike the one at Dubrovnik, is wrapped in a rich, red cloak decorated with lumeggiature, which covers his entire body except the left fist and shin. On the basis of the upper register of this icon, it can be concluded that the Master of the Benedictine Virgin is equally adept at applying the repertoire and style of Byzantine and Western painting alike; the lower register of the icon with its descriptive depiction of the martyrdom of St.Lawrence is completely Byzantine in that it portrays the Roman emperor attending the saint’s torture as a crowned Byzantine ruler. Such unquestionable stylistic ambivalence – the presence of the elements from both Byzantine and Italian painting – can also be seen on the icons of theBenedictine and Prijeko Virgin and they point to a painter who works in a “combined style.” Perhaps he should be sought among the artists who are mentioned as pictores greci in Dubrovnik, Kotor and Zadar. The links between Dalmatian icons and Apulia and Tuscany have already been noted, but the analysis of these paintings should also contain the hitherto ignored segment of Sicilian and eastern Mediterranean Byzantinism, including Cyprus as the centre of Crusader Art. The question of the provenance of the Master of the Benedictine Virgin remains open although the icon of the Virgin and Child from Prijeko points to the possibility that he may have been active in Dalmatia.However, stylistic expressions of the two icons from Zadar and Dubrovnik, together with the one which is today at Toronto, clearly demonstrate the coalescing of cults and forms which arrived to the Adriatic shores fromfurther afield, well beyond the Adriatic, and which were influenced by the significant, hitherto unrecognized, role of the eastern Mediterranean.

Utworzenie autonomicznego województwa śląskiego w ramach polskiego państwa narodowego oraz diecezji katowickiej wiązało się z reorganizacją systemu władzy, w którym poczesne miejsce zajęły grupy polsko-śląskich duchownych oraz urzędników i świeckiej inteligencji. Ich wzajemna rywalizacja oraz wspólne dążenie do nacjonalizacji Górnoślązaków w duchu polskim inspirowały dwa odmienne, choć spokrewnione dyskursy, w których wykorzystywano środki obrazowe. Wśród nich znaczącą rolę odgrywały alegoryczne wizualizacje Polski, zakorzenione w tradycjach sztuki polskiej przełomu XIX/XX wieku. W wystrojach gmachów Sejmu Śląskiego i Śląskiego Urzędu Wojewódzkiego oraz starostwa powiatowego w Katowicach zastosowano motyw Polonia Triumphans. W pierwszym z przypadków rzeźbiarz Jan Raszka nadał personifikacji wczesnośredniowieczną stylizację, nawiązującą do piastowskiego „złotego wieku”, a u jej tronu umieścił asystę w osobach hutnika i górnika, stylizowanych na kresowych rycerzy. Inna z płaskorzeźb przedstawia Polonię jako Nike i Wolność prowadzącą do boju powstańca śląskiego, zobrazowanego jako hutnik z młotem, oraz żołnierza walczącego z Czechami o Śląsk Cieszyński. Wątek zbrojnej walki o granice pojawia się także w malowidłach Felicjana Szczęsnego Kowarskiego w budynku starostwa, gdzie ukazaną w postaci greckiej heroiny Polonię z mieczem i tarczą flankują postaci śląskich herosów – całość programu ma jawnie rewizjonistyczną wymowę.
 Wyraźnie większe bogactwo wątków prezentuje zespół trzech obrazów Józefa Unierzyskiego, zamówionych do kościoła mariackiego w Katowicach. Ich centralną postacią jest Maria Królowa Korony Polskiej, przybierająca cechy Polonii Triumphans. Fundamentem łączności Górnego Śląska z Polską jest tu wspólna katolicka wiara. Górnośląski lud pod przywództwem bliskich mu kapłanów włącza się u stóp Madonny w nurt polskiej historii, określony dziejową misją przedmurza chrześcijaństwa, wnosząc jako wiano żywą religijność i pracowitość. Na zlecenie proboszcza ks. Emila Szramka malarz zaprezentował zrastanie się z polskością jako naturalny i obustronnie korzystny proces.
 The creation of the autonomous Silesian voivodeship within the borders of the Polish nation state and of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Katowice meant a profound change in the distribution of power, the groups of Polish-Silesian clergy and Polish bureaucrats, as well as secular intelligentsia gaining increasingly in importance. Their rivalry and common effort to polonize Upper Silesians inspired two different, although interrelated discourses, visual means being involved in both of them. Among the motives, implemented in the propaganda, allegorical depictions of Poland - rooted in the traditions of the Polish art of the turn of the twentieth century – played a significant role. In the decorations of the edifices of Silesian Sejm and Silesian Voivodeship Office and of the county authorities they were shaped as the personification of Polonia Triumphans. In the former case the sculptor Jan Raszka represented the allegory as an early medieval figure, reminding of a „golden age” of the Piast dynasty, seated on the throne and accompanied by a coal miner and a foundry-worker, stylized as borderland knights. In another bas-relief Polonia was depicted as Victory and Liberty leading into battle a Polish-Silesian insurgent, rendered as a foundry-worker with a hammer in his hands, and a soldier, fighting against Czechs for Teschen Silesia. The strand of military fighting over disputed territories occurs also in the paintings by Felicjan Szczęsny Kowarski in the Katowice County Hall, where Polonia, depicted as a Greek heroine with a sword and a shield, is accompanied by Silesian heroes and the meaning of the decoration is manifestly revisionist, advocating moving Polish border westwards.
 A conspicuosly wider range of contents is reflected in a series of three paintings by Józef Unierzyski, ordered for St. Mary’s Church in Katowice. Their central figure is Mary the „Queen of the Polish Crown”, assuming the features of Polonia Triumphans. The connection between Upper Silesia and Poland is founded here on the common catholic faith. At the feet of Madonna Upper Silesian folk, led by clergy, that remains faithfull to its popular roots, and bringing its vivid religiosity and dilligence, joins the stream of the Polish history, determined by the historical mission of antemurale christianitatis,. Commissioned by the parson Emil Szramek, the painter represented the growing together of Upper Silesia and Poland as a natural and mutually profitable process.

AbstractThe precise relationship of The Three Maries at the Tomb (Fig. 1) in the Boymansvan Beuningen Museum in Rotterdam to the work of Hubert and/or Jan van Eyck has proved difficult to establish, mainly because relatively little is known about their output apart from Jan van Eyck's signed paintings of 1432-41. The provenance of the Rotterdam picture has been traced back to the mid 18th century (Note 2), while the coat of arms, a later addition at bottom right, has been identified as that of Philippe de Commines, who has thus been posited as the earliest known owner (Note 3). Since the beginning of this century the panel has generally been ascribed to Hubert van Eyck on the basis of a comparison with his contribution to the Ghent Altarpiece, but doubts have also been expressed about the attribution to the Van Eycks (Note 5), while later dates have been suggested on the grounds of the view of Jerusalem (Note 6, 7) or the arms and armour (Notes 8, 9) . However, Panofsky remained convinced of the early date and kept to the attribution to Hubert, while suggesting that Jan had worked over certain details (Note 10). The restoration of 1947 (Note 11) revealed some gilded rays on the right side, which gave rise to suggestions that the panel had once formed part of a friezelike composition or a triptych (Notes 12-14). Recent opinion still remains divided, Sterling seeing the panel as having been painted by Jan van Eyck after 1426 (Note 15), Dhanens as the work of a follower around 1450-60 (Note 16). Scientific examination appeared to be the only way of obtaining new data, while the recently published results of a similar examination of the Ghent Altarpiece (Note 17) offered an additional incentive. An earlier scientific examination was carried out by Coremans in 1948 (Note rg), while the work had previously been examined by infrared reflectography by the authors in 1971 (JV ote zo) . Tfie 1)(inel on which the picture is painted consists rf three horizontal planks with dowelled joints (Note 21). The four corners are bevelled off at the back, which suggests that any later reduction in the panel can only have been slight. On the back is a sealed statement by D. G. van Beuningen to the effect that the painting had not suffered from being stored underground during the war (Fig. 2, Appendix 2) . The paint surface is in a reasonably good state, but exhibits heavy craquelure, which has played a part in the aesthetic assessment of the picture (Note 23) . Dendrochronological examination (Appendix I) showed that the two oaks from which the planks came were probably not felled before 1423. Since recent research has shown that the gap between felling and usage was not likely to have been much more than fifteen years in the 15th century (Note 25) and there is nothing to support the hypothesis that an old panel was reused here (Note 26), it is highly improbable that the picture was painted at the end of the 15th century. The most likely date is C. 1425-35 i.e. the period when the Ghent Altarpiece was painted or slightly later. No other results of dendrochronological examination on Van Eyck panels are available for comparison as yel. Examination by infrared reflectography (Note 28) revealed detailed underdrawing in virtually all parts of the picture and this was very carefully followed during painting with changes only in small details (cf. Figs.3, 5, 7). Stylistically the underdrawing accords with what is known about underdrawing in Van Eyck paintings today, this exhibiting a considerable difference from that of other Flemish Primitives, so that the Rotterdam panel is certainly a Van Eyck work. Among the most striking similarities to the central panel (x) and that with the Knights of Christ (IX) in the Ghent Altarpiece (Note 30) are the underdrawing of the drapery of the angels (Figs. 7-9), the city in the distance (Figs. 3,4, Note 31) and the minutely detailed armour (Figs. 14, 15, Note 33). Types of hatching that appear to be characteristic of the Van Eyck style are that of the shadows, which is sometimes overlapping and generally parallel to the main contours (Figs. 5,8) and a more rarely used type with short lines at an angle to contours (Fig. 9). The x-radiographs (Note 35) give a good idea of the damage to the paint surface (Figs. 16, 17) , which isfound mainly in the sky, along the crack in the top plank and on the bottom edge on the left. There is also a great deal of abrasion on the edges of the craquelure. The x-radiographs confirm the fact that no radical changes were made in the original, generally underdrawn, composition and reveal that the soldiers and their arms were left in reserve during the painting of the rocks and ground, a detail which likewise indicates continuity during the painting process. The underpainting of the rocks in large light blocks with simple contours shown up by x-ray photography is very close to that in panel IX in the Ghent Altarpiece (Note 38). Examination by stereomicroscope (Note 40) generally already gave an impression of the layered structure of the paint. It also showed up some minute details scarcely distinguishable by the naked eye : two horsemen and somefigures in tlae square on tlte leji qlthe city, a .slalue in a niche in the doorway in the zvall in tlae certtre (Fig. 18; possibly a reminiscence of the Golden Gate, Note 56) and a number of ship's masts with crow's nests on the horizon on the right (Fig. 19). Part of the vegetation was shown to be very finely and precisely rendered (Figs. 20, 21), while the rest was not so fine. Similar differences appear in the two bronze-coloured ointment jars in this painting and also in the bottom zone of the Ghent Altarpiece (Note 41). These may reveal two different hands or the somewhat hasty finishing of some areas. The paint samples (Note 42) revealed the presence of an oleaginous isolating layer over the chalk and glue ground comparable to, but thinner than that on the Ghent Altarpiece (Note 45). The only other Flemish Primitive in whose work such a layer is found is Dirc Bouts (Note 50). The paint layer also exhibits many similarities to that of the Ghent Altarpiece, not only in the number and thickness of the layers, but in the composition and overall structure of the paint. For example, the skies in both works are built up in three layers from light to dark on the basis of lead white with increasing amounts of azurite and sometimes a bit of lapis lazuli, the vegetation consists of two layers of green with a glaze over them and the structure of the red mantle of one of the Maries resembles similar areas in the Ghent Altarpiece. This technique again makes it very unlikely that the panel was painted at the end of the 15th century or later. A final point is that the gilded rays ( Fig. 22), like the coat of arms (Fig. 23), prove to be a later addition. Finally, renewed consideration was given to certain iconographical aspects which have been used as dating criteria. The arms and armour have been seen as grounds for a later dating by Squilbeck in particular, but it seems quite likely that many of the forms are purely imaginary, while other experts do not agree with Squilbeck in dating certain elements to the 16th century (Note 53). The arms and armour are in any case an integral part of the painting. The detailed view of Jerusalem is regarded by some as impossible before Erhard Reuwich's print of 1486, while others express surprise that it was not copied by other artists. In fact, however, it is strikingly close in many details to the view in the Ghent Altarpiece, although the latter is firmer in its spatial construction and more convincing. Whole sentences have been read into the texts on the hems of two of the Maries' garments and the soldier's cap (Note 57 ) and it has been argued that the letters are Roman, not Hebrew (Note 58), but in fact they are indispulably Hebrew and although words can sometimes be recognized, they do no form a sentence or text (Note 59). The coat of arms is certainly that of a nobleman of the Order of St. Michael, but whether he was Philippe de Commines is uncertain. The Van den Woesteyne and Van Meaux van Vorsselaer families also bore these arms, albeit in different tinctures (Note 6o). Since the arms are done, in a brownish-grey, they cannot be more precisely identified. The presence of no less than five layers of varnish between the green meadow and the coat of arms could indicate that the arms were added much later than previously thought, possibly in the 16th or even the 17th century (Note 47). While the present study has shown that the Rotterdam painting is quite an early Van Eyck, its precise position in the Van Eyck oeuvre cannot be determined until results of examinations of other works in the group are available.

The cult of St James within the Order of St John was evident throughout its stay in Malta in the architectural fabric it left behind, particularly the fortified land-front of the city of Valletta, as well as in other notable buildings, namely the Auberge of Castile, León and Portugal, and its church of St James. While its architectural aspects have withstood the test of time, other social aspects of the cult of Santiago in Malta are evident through the religious art in the Conventual Church of the Order in Valletta, today St John’s co-cathedral, but also through religious rituals held on the island during the stay of the knights. This reflected a local cult which shows hints of being present also before the arrival of the Hospitaller Order to the Maltese shores.

Early-music performances were a rarity in Malta until a few years ago. Slowly, over the years, harpsichords started to appear in concerts and a retired doctor began to build clavichords. During a series of fundraising concerts for the restoration of one of Valletta's oldest churches, a male-voice choir was formed to sing renaissance polyphony. This fervent activity led a local artist, Kenneth Zammit Tabona, to dream of a baroque music festival in the island's capital, Valletta. January 2013 saw the first Valletta International Baroque Festival, with concerts held in several of Valletta's baroque edifices, including the magnificent Manoel Theatre (built in 1731 and one of the oldest working theatres in Europe) and the awe-inspiring St John's Co-Cathedral, the church of the Knights of Malta. The first year was a resounding success and augured well for the future, as was confirmed in the second year of the festival.