Homo religiosus: the phenomenon of Poland’s Mieszko I
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Over ten and a half centuries ago, the ruler of a vast territory in today’s western Poland was baptized in the Latin rite and began the Christianization of his people. That ruler, who hailed from the Piast dynasty, was Mieszko I, called “rex” (king) by his contemporary, the Saxon chronicler Widukind of Corvey – and “malik” (king) by the agent of the Caliph in Cordoba, Ibrahim ibn Yaqub, who visited Central Europe during the early years of Mieszko’s reign (~960-992). Today, ironically enough, Mieszko’s descendants label him but a “książe” (duke) – though they honor him, nonetheless.
Indeed, as of this year, AD 2019, Poland has a new national holiday – namely, “Poland’s baptism”, to be celebrated on April 14th from here forward.
Indeed, as of this year, AD 2019, Poland has a new national holiday – namely, “Poland’s baptism”, to be celebrated on April 14th from here forward.
As with the 10th century generally, much is unclear about the circumstances of Mieszko’s conversion from Slavic paganism to Christianity. And the precise dating and location are only part of it. Our best sources cite the year 966, although bishop Thietmar of Merseburg (975-1018), who had intimate knowledge of Mieszko’s career, was unsure whether Mieszko had been baptized in 966 or 968, and left the matter open. About the exact day, in turn, the sources are utterly silent. April 14th has been chosen as in 966 that was Easter Sunday, a holiday favored by tradition for the performance of baptisms.
Though the written sources are utterly silent about the location of Mieszko’s baptism, as well, archeological sources are not. They make it altogether clear that Mieszko’s baptism took place on the largest island in Lake Lednica, situated between the cities of Gniezno and Poznań. The island – called “Ostrów Lednicki”, literally ‘Lednica Holm’ – boasts a 10th-century stronghold and within it a large stone edifice whose construction began in the early 960s. That structure included two large baptisteries, ones discovered only three decades ago, and it was likely in the slightly deeper of the two that Mieszko I was baptized in 966. Perhaps in fact on April 14th.
However, the important question – the most important – is why Mieszko abandoned his people’s gods in favor of a strange new religion back in the mid-10th century. After all, beginnings have supreme meaning in establishing narratives.
In the paper attached below as a PDF file, Philip Earl Steele – author of Nawrócenie i chrzest Mieszka I [The conversion and baptism of Mieszko I – 1st ed. 2005, 2nd ed. 2016] reviews the various interpretations of “Poland’s baptism” that have predominated in Polish historiography over the past decades. The author shows that most of them reflect a deep bias toward scientism, as preserved in the former Soviet Bloc by Marxist strictures. These interpretations are then deconstructed, with a new case being built on a broad, comparative basis that stresses the role of “empirical religiosity”, something almost entirely rejected and/or ignored by all but the most recent Polish scholars.
Thus, the primary objectives of Steele’s paper are: to offer non-Poles a sense of Polish-language works on Mieszko I; to refute the major materialist explanations of his baptism; to describe the scope and sway of empirical religiosity in early medieval Europe and how, in its pagan form, empirical religiosity lent itself as a bridge to Christianity; and to highlight, on a comparative backdrop, the strikingly religious nature of Mieszko’s choice to adopt Christianity.
Excerpt from the conclusion:
“The sheer temerity we have depicted in Mieszko’s conversion is all the more remarkable when we glance at the ever so different origins of Christianity among Poland’s neighbors and peoples elsewhere across Europe.
Among the Czechs, for instance, as we know from the Annals of Fulda, 14 of their princes were baptized in 845. Nonetheless, the Christianizing career of Bořivoj and Ludmila began not until the 880s, and that process did not become earnest until half a century later, under Boleslav I. And yet the first bishopric in Bohemia wasn’t up and running until the late 970s – some 130 years after Bohemia’s initial baptisms. Even so, St. Wojciech (the second bishop of Prague) still had the Czechs for pagans. So, false start after false start, and nearly all the while the Czechs found themselves with contiguous Christians neighbors west, south, and east. Moreover, the Czech example is altogether normal. It is the case of Mieszko that is so extraordinary.
After all, the mission to the Swedes, briefly described above, began some 170 years before Mieszko’s grandson King Olaf was baptized in about 1000. The baptism of Denmark’s Harald Gormsson came nearly 140 years after Harald Klak’s. Christianity had also long made inroads among the Rus’ before Vladimir the Great’s baptism. Close contacts with Constantinople reached back more than a century by then. What is more, Vladimir’s own grandmother Olga had become a Christian and was baptized in Constantinople in 957 – and as the regent of Rus’, no less. Nothing whatsoever of the kind can be said of the Piasts before Mieszko.
Glancing further afield and deeper into time, Clovis ruled over a land having a largely evangelized population and a developed ecclesiastical structure. He joined a winning team. Ethelbert, in turn, handed over to Augustine a church still standing from Roman times…
And among the Polanians? Here, in contrast to countries near and far, Mieszko introduced Christianity on utterly virgin soil. From scratch. Surrounded by pagans. At his own will, at a time of strength and stability, and with no obvious “ulterior” motives. The case of Mieszko’s acceptance of baptism stands as one of the clearest examples in medieval Europe not only of empirical religiosity – but of empirical religiosity having been the primary motive for a ruler’s conversion.”
Philip Earl Steele
Though the written sources are utterly silent about the location of Mieszko’s baptism, as well, archeological sources are not. They make it altogether clear that Mieszko’s baptism took place on the largest island in Lake Lednica, situated between the cities of Gniezno and Poznań. The island – called “Ostrów Lednicki”, literally ‘Lednica Holm’ – boasts a 10th-century stronghold and within it a large stone edifice whose construction began in the early 960s. That structure included two large baptisteries, ones discovered only three decades ago, and it was likely in the slightly deeper of the two that Mieszko I was baptized in 966. Perhaps in fact on April 14th.
However, the important question – the most important – is why Mieszko abandoned his people’s gods in favor of a strange new religion back in the mid-10th century. After all, beginnings have supreme meaning in establishing narratives.
In the paper attached below as a PDF file, Philip Earl Steele – author of Nawrócenie i chrzest Mieszka I [The conversion and baptism of Mieszko I – 1st ed. 2005, 2nd ed. 2016] reviews the various interpretations of “Poland’s baptism” that have predominated in Polish historiography over the past decades. The author shows that most of them reflect a deep bias toward scientism, as preserved in the former Soviet Bloc by Marxist strictures. These interpretations are then deconstructed, with a new case being built on a broad, comparative basis that stresses the role of “empirical religiosity”, something almost entirely rejected and/or ignored by all but the most recent Polish scholars.
Thus, the primary objectives of Steele’s paper are: to offer non-Poles a sense of Polish-language works on Mieszko I; to refute the major materialist explanations of his baptism; to describe the scope and sway of empirical religiosity in early medieval Europe and how, in its pagan form, empirical religiosity lent itself as a bridge to Christianity; and to highlight, on a comparative backdrop, the strikingly religious nature of Mieszko’s choice to adopt Christianity.
Excerpt from the conclusion:
“The sheer temerity we have depicted in Mieszko’s conversion is all the more remarkable when we glance at the ever so different origins of Christianity among Poland’s neighbors and peoples elsewhere across Europe.
Among the Czechs, for instance, as we know from the Annals of Fulda, 14 of their princes were baptized in 845. Nonetheless, the Christianizing career of Bořivoj and Ludmila began not until the 880s, and that process did not become earnest until half a century later, under Boleslav I. And yet the first bishopric in Bohemia wasn’t up and running until the late 970s – some 130 years after Bohemia’s initial baptisms. Even so, St. Wojciech (the second bishop of Prague) still had the Czechs for pagans. So, false start after false start, and nearly all the while the Czechs found themselves with contiguous Christians neighbors west, south, and east. Moreover, the Czech example is altogether normal. It is the case of Mieszko that is so extraordinary.
After all, the mission to the Swedes, briefly described above, began some 170 years before Mieszko’s grandson King Olaf was baptized in about 1000. The baptism of Denmark’s Harald Gormsson came nearly 140 years after Harald Klak’s. Christianity had also long made inroads among the Rus’ before Vladimir the Great’s baptism. Close contacts with Constantinople reached back more than a century by then. What is more, Vladimir’s own grandmother Olga had become a Christian and was baptized in Constantinople in 957 – and as the regent of Rus’, no less. Nothing whatsoever of the kind can be said of the Piasts before Mieszko.
Glancing further afield and deeper into time, Clovis ruled over a land having a largely evangelized population and a developed ecclesiastical structure. He joined a winning team. Ethelbert, in turn, handed over to Augustine a church still standing from Roman times…
And among the Polanians? Here, in contrast to countries near and far, Mieszko introduced Christianity on utterly virgin soil. From scratch. Surrounded by pagans. At his own will, at a time of strength and stability, and with no obvious “ulterior” motives. The case of Mieszko’s acceptance of baptism stands as one of the clearest examples in medieval Europe not only of empirical religiosity – but of empirical religiosity having been the primary motive for a ruler’s conversion.”
Philip Earl Steele
