A cunning trick, a relationship with a dead woman, and a hasty marriage with a substitute in her place. Casimir the Great's second marriage was more than a misunderstanding. The king made a complete fool of himself.
"Because she used her life excessively, she left this world with a rather significant and terrible fate." This is how the death of the first wife of King Casimir the Great was commented on by a Krakow Dominican named Traska. It is not known more about the circumstances of the death of the ruler, Anna Giedyminówna. Death at the age of less than thirty surprised her husband and the courtiers. It does not seem to overwhelm them with sadness.
Adelajda Heska on a sketch by Jan Matejko
No son was born from her marriage to a Lithuanian princess, and the queen did not enjoy the respect of her subjects. Her demise was perhaps even greeted with some relief. The way opened up for the monarch to a more politically advantageous relationship and to the offspring necessary to prolong the lineage.
Neighborly help
The year was 1339 and the king's thoughts were not in Poland, but in Red Ruthenia. He was just starting efforts to conquer this wealthy land bordering on Małopolska from the east. He had no head for matchmakers, and he did not want - in the face of the wars in the East - to be impressed by anyone, choosing the wrong half.
He agreed with his sister, the powerful Queen of Hungary, Elżbieta Łokietkówna, that she would help him as much as needed. However, the Luxembourgs who ruled next door remained the great unknown. An influential and wealthy dynasty ruling the Czech Republic and sharpening its teeth for the imperial throne. Like allies, but - only waiting for the first stumble of the king of Poland .
Casimir the Great in the painting by Leopold Löffler.
Like vultures, they began to circle over the Krakow manor. In 1340, not one, but two Czech princes came to the Polish capital. They offered to take Kazimierz out of trouble and to arrange a suitable marriage for him. It so happened that Charles - the future emperor, and at this stage the margrave of Moravia, who co-ruled Bohemia with his ailing father - had an older sister who had just been widowed. She was of a similar age to Aldona's at the time of her death and it was appropriate to remarry her.
The situation seemed perfect:instead of looking at the neighbor with the wolf, it was possible to join competing families with a favorable herd. Kazimierz succumbed to persuasion.
Dear Allies
A rough friendship with Luxembourg took him straight to Prague in 1341. And because of her, he was now making a good face for a really bad game. He should have realized at the very first moment that something was wrong. It was the end of June and the Czech capital was warming in the rays of the summer sun. It wasn't the Prague we know today.
Hradčany will be built only thanks to the aforementioned Charles (IV), just like the huge palace on the top of the hill - today considered the most extensive medieval residence in the world and with this title entered in the Guinness Book of Records .
Kazimierz was welcomed not in a cavernous gothic seat, but in a rotten castle, remembering the times of Bolesław the Brave's stay. The entry to the capital took place with the customary pomp. The monarch was welcomed by his colleague, the forty-five-year-old Czech ruler, John of Luxembourg. The heir to the throne, Karol, who was slightly younger than Kazimierz and increasingly eager to power, was also present. But someone was clearly missing. The woman he came to meet and marry - Małgorzata Luksemburska, did not come out against Piast.
The bust of John of Luxembourg from the Cathedral of St. Welcome to Prague
Before Kazimierz left Wawel, he was assured that the bride was waiting at her father's house. The former Duchess of Lower Bavaria buried her husband, put her German affairs in order and reportedly appeared in Prague in April. But now she was nowhere to be seen. The hosts showered Kazimierz with appropriate gifts, took him to the best quarters, invited him to games and feasts. However, when the latter began to demand a meeting with his future wife, they suggested moving to the office and ... signing the pre-wedding documents.
Conversations between a blind man and an illiterate
We can guess that he was handed a parchment covered with illegible curls, which neither the king nor his advisers had ever seen before. Kazimierz strained his eyes, narrowed his eyes, drew the letter closer to him and pushed it away. It was all in vain - he knew Latin enough to understand every second or third word at best. He was, as a rather certain source attests, illiterate. Perhaps the first on the Polish throne since the times of Bolesław the Brave.
He could, of course, ask for a break in negotiations and confer with the officials accompanying him. It is not known if he did so, and if he did, he probably did not spend too much time analyzing the document. Maybe his pride kept him from admitting aloud that he couldn't read. Or rather, his vigilance was lulled by the state of the man sitting on the other side of the table. King John was also unable to read the treaty. Not, however, that he didn't know the letters.
Even the father and uncle of the Czech ruler suffered from a severe, hereditary eye defect. They both saw poorly, but it was only Jan's disease that struck it with full force. Despite the intervention of the best doctors, already at the age of forty, he completely lost the ability to see, thus earning himself the nickname of Jan the Blind.
Charles IV of Luxembourg
The councils took place between the illiterate and the blind. The balance, however, was purely apparent. After all, the King of Bohemia was assisted by his son Karol - a comprehensively educated intellectual, fluent not only in Czech and Latin, but also in German, French and Italian. If someone changed the marriage contract at the last minute, it was him.
A deal stronger than death
The adjustments were seemingly minor. The treaty repeated the obligations set up in advance, which were quite subservient, by the way. Kazimierz guaranteed that he would not break the "bond and bond of love, commonality and faithfulness", and that his partners, Jan and Karol, would "listen to everything like his own father and brother and help them against all enemies".
What has changed then? Well, the text of the treaty repeatedly repeated to boredom that all its provisions are also to apply in the event of the bride's death. Even if this death had happened ... before marriage. Kazimierz also agreed that, in order not to violate the concluded pact, he would never enter into a new relationship in the future without seeking Karol's advice.
The assurance seemed like an empty phrase. After all, the bride was not even thirty years old and could easily survive Kazimierz. The Czech woman had already given birth to one son in her previous marriage and the Polish king hoped that she would soon give him male offspring. He did not want to delay the matter and further delay the anticipated meeting. He swore a treatise on the Gospel and ordered his seal to be affixed to it.
A funeral instead of a wedding
Now all that was left to do was to arrange the wedding ceremony. Instead of an invitation to a wedding, Kazimierz got ... a notification about a planned funeral. As it turned out, Małgorzata fell seriously ill shortly after arriving in Prague. She was still alive when Kazimierz entered the city, but gave up her spirit two days before the solemn treaty was concluded, which was to be in force for life and regardless of the fate of the marriage. And nobody, of course, told the Polish king about this death in advance. They didn't want to spoil his trip…
Regardless of whether it was a promise or rather a threat, Charles dutifully kept his word. He made a commitment to advise his new foster brother should he ever wish to remarry. He just knew that "someday" would come very soon. Małgorzata's body has not even cooled down yet, and Kazimierz has not had time to leave Prague, and he has already been given a new fiancée:a girl of about seventeen, named Adelaide.
Hesse on the map of 14th-century Germany
The Luxemburgers vouched for her as much as for their own sister and daughter. It could not be concealed, however, that there were fundamental differences between the two candidates for a royal wife. Małgorzata belonged to one of the most powerful dynasties on the continent. And Adelaide? She was not a descendant of a Czech ruler. She wasn't even his relative.
Second grade candidate
She came from central Germany, from one of the dozens of small countries that made up the Reich, shredded like Swiss cheese. She was the daughter of Henry II known as Żelazny. This man had the dignity of the Landgrave of Hesse. He was a ruler, but tertiary at best. He was neither well connected, nor wealthy, nor even particularly talented. He did not have a strong army, and his country borders ran hundreds of kilometers from the Polish borders.
If he was known in Europe at that time, it was only because he was a female boxer. He was considered violent, and his wife, who was constantly made upset by his life, abandoned him and returned to her own parents. He still had a daughter who was said to be one of the most beautiful princesses of the Reich by far.
Adelajda Heska on a sketch by Jan Matejko
Jan Długosz, in a compromise and with a dose of culture that was almost unheard of for him, stated that "she was more beautiful in virtue than in beauty". Big Daddy had a problem with getting her married. A knight ready to fall in love with the ugly duckling was not coming, and political marriage was out of the question. Henryk Żelazny was broke and simply could not afford to pay for the dowry expected by the matchmakers.
The stalemate lasted until the Czechs came to his aid, looking for the perfect - at least in their own opinion and in the context of their own interests - a candidate for a wife for the Polish king.
Uneven layout
Now things turned out quickly. Kazimierz, probably not fully aware of the trick, agreed to everything to keep the alliance with his new, adopted "family" in force. The wedding took place in Poznań on September 29, 1341. On the same day Adelaide was crowned Polish queen. If something was missing, it would only be ... a wedding contract. The father of the bride and the bachelor agreed the terms verbally, which should be considered a complete sensation.
Maybe the lack of a written contract was due to the haste, or maybe Kazimierz just knew that it was better not to show off the profits that the friendly Czechs had arranged for him. The intercissa was written down quietly, after the wedding. It was a farce, not a document worthy of a self-respecting monarch. Henryk Żelazny not only did not promise military aid to his son-in-law in the event of war, but also reduced the amount of the dowry to an embarrassingly low amount. He agreed to pay Kazimierz one hundred and twenty thousand silver pennies. It probably couldn't be less. For comparison:when in a few years the Polish king marries his second daughter, Kunegunda, he will provide her with a dowry four times higher. And that will still be an amount that places him in the circle of relative scorners.
Casimir the Great on a sketch by Jan Matejko.
Kazimierz paid a lot of money for his relationship with Adelaide. According to the old tradition, the next day after the wedding night, he showered his bride with expensive gifts. He gave her gold and silver, and he also wrote down the entire land of Sandomierz "with all its castles, villages, towns, with all rights, honors, freedoms and other affiliations". In order to ensure his spouse a proper standard of living, he also guaranteed her an annual income of thirty thousand silver groszy.
Thus, Adelaide's dowry was offset by a generous husband after just four short years. Or rather, it would have stayed, if Henryk Żelazny had not been quick to make any commitments. The German combinator left Poznań, happy to have one less mouth to feed at home. If the promised one hundred and twenty thousand coins ever existed, he ate or overfished them. And he never paid the dowry. And the marriage itself did not bring the king neither happiness, nor prestige, nor the most important thing:children. Adelaide quickly turned out to be sterile.
Selected bibliography:
- J. Bieniak, "Litterati" lay people in the Warsaw trial of 1339 [in:] Cultus et cognitio:studies in the history of middle-class culture , Warsaw 1976.
- Kiryk F., The Great King and His Successor , National Publishing Agency 1992.
- Klápště J., The Czech Lands in Medieval Transformation , Brill, Leiden – Boston 2012.
- Kurtyka J., The reborn kingdom. The monarchy of Władysław Łokietek and Casimir the Great in the light of more recent research , Societas Vistulana, Krakow 2001.
- Wyrozumski J., Casimir the Great , Ossolineum, Wrocław 2004.
- Singer, Blindness and Therapy in Late Medieval French and Italian Poetry , Boydell &Brewer, Woodbridge 2011.
- Śliwiński B., Chronicle indiscretions, or the private life of the Piasts , Marpress, Gdańsk 2004.
- Śliwiński J., The marriages of Casimir the Great. A study in the field of morality and ethics of the royal court in Poland in the 14th century , Pedagogical University in Olsztyn, Olsztyn 1987.
- Świeżawski E.S., Esterka and other women of Casimir the Great [in:] the same, Outlines of critical research on history, historiography and mythology , vol. 3, Warsaw 1894.
- Weygand Z., The Blind in French Society from the Middle Ages to the Century of Louis Braille , Stanford University Press, Stanford 2009.