Like other chapters in this volume, the present essay aims to take a close look at monuments from a single region. Here, I am interested in a tempestuous era of Central Europe’s history, when it became a war zone as a result of the Ottoman push westward and when the contours of its natural geography and topography were overwritten by ceaselessly shifting political and confessional borders. My main concern is the way these shifts affected religious art and architecture, since both were likewise exposed to an uncertain fate: formed as the natural outgrowth of their environment, they were later exposed to a changing climate. To examine the mechanisms and consequences of these shifts, I focus on one building, the parish church of Szigetvár in Southwestern Hungary. However, because of the fluid territorial contours of the region, we must also situate it in a retrospective and prospective timeframe, as well as within a broader regional context (Fig. 13.1).
Bisected by the Drava, a major tributary of the Danube, the northern part of the region encompasses Southwestern Transdanubia as far north as Lake Balaton in Hungary, while the southern part includes Eastern Croatia (Slavonia) and, across the Sava, the northeastern highlands of Bosnia.1 Representing the westernmost foothold of the Ottoman Empire in Europe, this heterogeneous area was closer to a self-contained geographic unit while part of the empire, than during any other time before or after.2 While this integrated Ottoman phase of its local history—from around 1600 to 1690—was relatively short, the preceding military buildup and the subsequent withdrawal lasted much longer.
Can we speak about true artistic activity, other than defensive work, in this environment that was for centuries a theater of war? Moreover, could this territory, on the periphery of whichever side of a border it fell at any given moment, develop an artistic language of its own while the wars between two world religions were waged in it? And if so, where do its monuments belong? What happened to them when the empires that had constructed them withdrew, leaving these buildings behind, vestiges in a hostile area, like seashells on a dry riverbed? And how might these events have affected historical memory? Such questions are justified by the peculiar situation of this territory. Indeed, the land around the Danube, Sava, and Drava Rivers was not merely “between worlds”; it changed hands much more often than almost any other region in play between the early modern empires. It has lost most of its medieval and Ottoman monuments, with the majority of the local heritage dating from the post-Ottoman period. Here, a fortress that protected its surroundings could be captured overnight, transforming it into a menace for those it had intended to defend, and vice versa. Large segments of the population were thus constantly on the move, abruptly changing allegiances for survival. Such abrupt shifts exceeded anything else in Central Europe and the Balkans, and even Dalmatia and Bosnia enjoyed far greater degrees of stability, irrespective of the different political systems that governed them. There were decades when, for instance, Protestant communities coexisted with Sufi orders, but after a sudden change of fortune, both would face persecution. Under these circumstances, it is particularly difficult to assign the region to a particular cultural geography. Yet, building activity did not cease: churches were abandoned, destroyed, converted, or rebuilt as mosques; and then restored to their Christian sites within short intervals. Such conditions explain how an Ottoman mosque showing architectural features shared by buildings in Diyar Bakır or Damascus would assimilate into the Baroque landscape of eighteenth-century Central Europe by way of Vienna-trained painters (Fig. 13.2).
1 High Baroque Mimesis in the Mosque of Szigetvár
Insignificant as it may appear at first sight from the perspective of art history, the monuments of Szigetvár might well represent the quintessence of this extremely hybrid conflict zone. Viewed through whichever ideological prism—the Habsburg, Hungarian, Ottoman, Christian, Muslim, etc.—this first resting place of Sultan Suleiman I became the cornerstone of conflicting ambitions and expectations in Vienna, Buda, and Istanbul, evolving from an emotionally charged epicenter of military events into an abstract discursive space, with little concern for the geographic reality of the town itself. A closer look at the actual sites of Szigetvár, however, shows the physical layers on them that were accreted in the wake of successive war damage. On one monument they settled in a way as to create a potential space for ecumenism, which was unparalleled, even by regional standards.
Our main subject, the former mosque of ʿAli Pasha of Szigetvár, came into being shortly after the Ottoman occupation, while its conversion to a local parish church—a function it has maintained ever since—occurred immediately after the fall of the Ottomans.3 Apparently not built in place of a preexisting medieval parish church, it is one of the few former congregational mosques in the region that retained aspects of its former function relatively well during the transition to a church. Other examples include Pécs (the Gazi Qasim Pasha mosque) and Ðakovo (the Ibrahim Pasha mosque); both were ready to use as parish churches following the Ottoman period, while the old cathedrals were so badly ruined that the bishops who returned to these sites were confronted with decades-long rebuilding (in Ðakovo) or restoration (in Pécs) projects. The ʿAli Pasha mosque (c.1570) was a standard single-domed square building of the Ðakovo-Pécs type. Considering that the first mosque of a newly conquered town was customarily built in the military headquarters, which would be followed by the mosque for the civilian (and initially Christian) mahala,4 the qasaba mosque of Szigetvár may have preceded the otherwise undated mosque of the endowment of Müʿezzinzade ʿAli Pasha by a few years.5 Both mosques survive; in contrast, few traces—apart from several descriptions (and a few sketches)—remain of other buildings, such as the medieval parish church of Szigetvár and Suleiman’s recently located shrine complex outside the town, the latter of which also included a mosque.6 As we have already seen, a frontline shrine of military devotion became more vulnerable than any other building when military fortunes changed. Judging by the hundreds of Muslim places of worship that disappeared alongside the Suleiman complex, in contrast to the handful that survive, we must consider the preservation of a building much more unusual than its destruction. This begs the question as to the chances for survival of Muslim religious buildings in the aftermath of Ottoman rule.
Apparently, the main cause that sealed the fate of these buildings was the view that after the Christian takeover of the region, there would be no Muslims left in need of a mosque for prayer. Unlike, for instance, in Bosnia, the Islamicization of Hungarian society during the Ottoman period was insignificant, as most Muslims were members of the Ottoman military, or directly dependent upon it. Tax records indicate that the Muslim population of Baranya County was concentrated in towns and fortified settlements (palisades, palankas), especially in the capital of Pécs, while the rural population settled in separate, Catholic, Calvinist, Lutheran, Unitarian, and Greek Orthodox—but not Muslim—communities.7 Muslims thus left Hungary with the same speed as the thrust of the reconquest had pushed back the frontier to the south.8 Those few who stayed were baptized en masse, chiefly by the Jesuits, whose missionaries had been present already under the Ottomans.9 The empty mosques and shrines, when not demolished, were quickly seized by the Jesuits and the Croatia-based Franciscans, who arrived shortly after the cessation of military activities. With few exceptions, these often-ruined buildings were entirely abandoned after 1700, used only as a source of building materials, which were extremely scarce at the time. The destruction of the shrine of Suleiman is a well-documented case given its swift, albeit illegal, nature: the perpetrator, a member of the occupying force, claimed in the procedural records to have been unaware that the building had been given to, and consecrated by, the Franciscans.10 This case illustrates the priorities of the time and attests to the fact that religious considerations do not always motivate such acts of vandalism. For example, Count Lajos Festetich (1732–97), the new landlord of Szigetvár who had purchased a number of former Zrínyi estates from the Vienna Hofkammer in 1769, never scrupled to sell the bricks of the Zrínyi castle, even as he liked to compare himself to its legendary defender. He transferred a gate of the castle to his family residence in Toponár and incorporated it into the new building, leaving the old fortress in ruins.11
Nevertheless, Christian triumphalism was also present in instances of architectural destruction. In the Tvrđa (fort) of Osijek, the complex of Qasim Pasha (two türbes and a sabil of which have been excavated) was razed to the ground in order to create space for the Church of St. Michael, completed in 1768.12 There, the new church can be thought to “trample” on the mosque in the very same way that the Luca Giordanesque St. Michael of 1770, executed by Franz Xaver Wagenschön for the main altar, tramples on Satan’s forces inside the church.13 The fate of the congregational mosque of Pest, in the far north, was a bit more fortunate. The structure was surveyed and depicted by the inquisitive architect Johann Bernhard Fischer von Erlach (1656–1723) in his Entwurff einer historischen Architektur (1721), in which it is presented as a valuable local example of Islamic architecture.14 Once the engraving was complete, however, the building was left to be razed.
Within this context, the Szigetvár parish church of St. Roch gains a unique status. While there are mosques in the region that managed to survive by undergoing a Baroque transformation,15 their new patrons did not utilize their communicative potential, perhaps deliberately choosing to obscure it. Szigetvár, in complete contrast, represents a nearly singular example in Central European architecture of a monument that not only passively acknowledges its prior Islamic identity but in fact actively conceptualizes this non-Western heritage in order to reclaim and come to terms with it.16 The mosque-like features of the exterior were masked by plastering and Baroque additions; these latter elements included a campanile and apse in place of the mihrab, which was subsequently demolished. Inside, the Ottoman dome, resting on muqarnas squinches, is fully preserved as though to suggest the fundamental characteristics of Islamic architecture—a statement that is, however, complicated by the monumental Baroque fresco covering its interior (Fig. 13.3).17
Entering the building from the west, the first segment of Stephan Dorffmaister’s fresco that comes into view depicts the Turkish conquest of Szigetvár (Fig. 13.4). A group of Turkish fighters fly at an almost-superhuman Miklós Zrínyi—echoing the iconography of Hercules and Antaeus—who, rather than surrendering, breaks out of the castle to die a martyr. Despite the numerical superiority and apparent success of the Turks, we see in the distance what the Turks do not know, the death of the sultan in his tent, foretelling a different outcome: “It fell in 1566 with the fulfillment of the fate of Suleyman and Zrínyi,” the chronogram tells us.18 To the left of this section, a stretch of battle scenes almost encircles the entire dome. First, the Christians appear to gain the upper hand, but it becomes evident that the Ottomans are winning: “It languished for 122 years under the crescent moon.”19 Finally, above the altar, as we come full circle, General de Vecchi and members of his Hungarian troops are depicted triumphantly entering the liberated Szigetvár and magnanimously distributing bread for its defeated and humiliated defenders (Fig. 13.5).20 “In 1688 it exulted its recovery by ancient law through famine,” the chronogram reads.21 A further chronogram adds: “Today, in 1788, it celebrates the centenary, ornate with paintings.”22
In the center of the dome, the fresco makes it clear that the long war on Earth was preordained by God, and it followed a divine plan. The ultimate Christian victory is thus attained through Mary, the angels, and above all the Holy Trinity, all of whom are depicted. The inevitable downfall is the share of those who, like the followers of Muhammad, do not believe in the Christian creed, and there is no better proof presented to the churchgoers than the purified mosque in which they are present. The extolment of the Trinity in a former mosque where Suleiman died thus inverts the program of a building that was restored by Suleiman: the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem, which in 692 (72 Hijri), was built to resemble a Christian martyrium and announce in the then Christian city that “The Messiah, Jesus son of Mary, was only a Messenger of God, and His Word which He conveyed unto Mary, and a spirit from Him. So believe in God and His messengers, and say not ‘Three.’”23
What we see here is how, by sustaining the non-Christian appearance of the building even after reconsecration, the remodeling allows the local past to manifest itself in the decorative program, and how this historical dimension inevitably drives the Baroque triumph depicted on the dome toward a secular narrative. It is through the latter that the ambiguity of the mosque as an architectural framework finds explanation and resolution. Through the fresco the then of the mosque and the now of the church become one. Dorffmaister ingenuously employs well-established metaphors and allusions from the classical repertoire to transform his sixteenth-century protagonists into timeless heroes. In his death, Zrínyi recalls Anchises, whose flight with the palladium from the burning Troy ensured a new beginning in Rome. Zrínyi’s palladium is a combined imperial and royal flag that is returning triumphantly in the de Vecchi scene. As for the dying Suleiman, he resembles Constantine the Great.24 His gaze transcends the crescent-decorated flag to meet the triumphant Cross of Christ, while his own troops, busy finishing off Zrínyi, fail to witness even the death of their ruler. The truth of in hoc signo is revealed to Suleiman as if it were occurring in the dream of Constantine, the sultan’s predecessor. Ironically, this perspective might have been the furthest from Suleiman’s mind when, in his own terms, he received martyrdom in the land of the infidel.25
By the time of the 1788 centennial celebrations, Muslim doctrines hardly represented a threat demanding such a vigorous refutation. It seems that the Muslim population of the reconquered territories evaporated almost overnight. But in the absence of Muslims, there were others who, in Catholics’ opinion, precisely required the indoctrination of the Dorffmaister’s fresco. The Habsburg takeover of Transdanubia was also a Catholic takeover, which offered little benefit for dissident confessional groups; indeed, for some of those populations, this was the start of a new era of persecution. While the Muslims left Szigetvár in 1689, the Unitarians and their blasphemous beliefs stayed, along with the Lutherans and Calvinists and their halfhearted devotion to Mary and the angels. Some Catholics went so far as equating Protestants with Muslims, while others were content viewing their beliefs as the reason for God’s punishment in the form of the Ottomans. However, it must be admitted that during the 100 years of undisputed Catholic hegemony, local Protestants did not suffer any visual insult comparable to the fresco, which in fact appeared only upon its conclusion.
If such long-standing general disdain for non-Catholics had not provided enough incentive for the creation of the fresco, in the 1780s a series of unprecedented threats finally gave Catholics the necessary stimulus. The divine order that took shape so beautifully inside the church was steadily giving way to growing disorder outside: in 1782, Emperor Joseph II (r. as King of Hungary 1780–90) issued an Edict of Tolerance, granting equal rights to non-Catholics, while the Edict of Secularization effectively curbed papal intervention in Austrian lands and abolished most monastic orders. In 1785, the Patent of Serfdom liberated—at least officially—the serfs, while another edict, dating to 1789, ended the nobles’ tax exemption.
Apparently, the Baroque fresco in the Ottoman mosque owes its existence to this political climate.26 The centennial anniversary was just a good excuse to express religious and secular opposition. Immediately after the proclamation of the Edict of Tolerance, Protestant delegates began to exert their influence in the provincial assembly of Baranya County, where Count Lajos Festetich, the patron of the frescoes, had long been vice-chancellor (alispán). He vehemently opposed Josephinian reforms and allied himself with Pál László Esterházy, the bishop of Pécs (r. 1780–99), who was struggling to regain the bishops’ position of perpetual chancellorship (örökös főispán) that had been abolished shortly before, in 1777. The Szigetvár fresco may well attest to this alliance, as it simultaneously expresses religious and political dissidence.27 It proclaims Catholic doctrines in a Baroque language at a time when both Catholicism and the Baroque manner had begun to lose ground. Yet, it also represents a rare early public display of secular nationalist sentiment. When not damaging Zrínyi’s castle by selling it off brick by brick, Lajos Festetich actively cultivated the heritage of his illustrious predecessors. He believed that their moral commitment and religious devotion had served the empire even when their actions defied imperial commands. Stephan Dorffmaister (1729–97), the painter of the Szigetvár fresco, received similar commissions from Pál László Esterházy. In 1787 the Bishop of Pécs ordered a painting depicting the Battle of Mohács (1526) in a chapel attached to his summer residence, and he made it accessible to the public.28 As the first large-scale depiction of the event, it stirred national and anti-Habsburg feelings under an anti-Ottoman guise and became a major attraction.
By 1788, when the refurbishment of the ʿAli Pasha mosque was complete, the building became the only former mosque in the Habsburg Empire to uphold a timely message. The Ottoman conquest had already faded into history: Mozart had written Die Entführung aus dem Serail six years before, in 1782, and the Imperial Academy of Oriental Languages in Vienna, founded in 1754, then taught Turkish (and Arabic) language, literature, and culture at a scholarly level.29 At the same time, Istanbul’s newest imperial mosques, the Laleli (Tulip) and Beylerbeyi, completed in 1764 and 1778 respectively, featured façades richly articulated with pilaster strips and entablatures that contributed to their distinctly Baroque appearance.30 Yet, only at Szigetvár would a standard Ottoman mosque fully and effortlessly metamorphose into a standard Baroque church.
The vehicle of this transformation was the fresco: its splendor successfully obliterated the former Islamic identity of the building, not by causing it physical harm but rather by eradicating the structure from historical memory and thus opening it up to new perspectives. Together with Dorffmaister’s other historical paintings, the Zrínyi scene quickly became an influential point of reference for the literary and artistic patriotic movement at the turn of the nineteenth century.31 By focusing on individual heroism and de-emphasizing the Baroque aspects of universalism, early-nineteenth-century artists introduced the Zrínyi theme into their standard repertoire. With the Baroque ecclesiastical origins of the battle scene thus relegated to the background, the association of the building with an erstwhile “local” Orient also underwent a metamorphosis that would resurface in the landscape of popular piety.
At the same time as the grand theme of Zrínyi was elaborated by academic artists to meet the demands of a wide national audience, the former mosques of Baranya County and Slavonia maintained their lingering presence in the religious consciousness of local communities, which reimagined these buildings as homegrown manifestations of a biblical East. When Catholic authority was reestablished in the Post-Ottoman dioceses of Đakovo and Pécs, and the surviving congregational mosques were taken over by the local parishes—similar to the smaller locality of Szigetvár—these edifices came to be regarded variously as proof of Divine Providence, the abode of the triumphant church, and images of a New Jerusalem. In Pécs, the parish foregrounded this association by establishing a Via Crucis leading from the mosque-church to a Calvary chapel newly erected in a form reminiscent of a Muslim shrine (türbe) atop a hill.32 Although there is no sign of an Ottoman predecessor at the site, one can still find the small Ottoman shrine of Idris Baba on a neighboring hill.33 Considering the predilection for elevated shrines among the Bektashi of the Balkans, the introduction of the türbe-shaped chapel in Pécs may well represent a modification of an established local custom.34 The same pattern was followed in Buda, where the Franciscans built their Calvary shrine on a hilltop next to the former Bektashi mausoleum of Gül Baba.35 As a practice, Via Crucis was initiated in the region by the Franciscan Province of St. John of Capistrano, before a papal decree of 1731 would prescribe it for every parish.36
2 The Sacred Landscape of Transdanubia over the Ages
What did this region look like before its Baroque transformation? Geographically and confessionally speaking, it had been diverse since medieval times. In the north and along the main rivers, ancient towns prospered; some, like Pécs (Sopianae), Osijek (Mursa), and Mitrovica (Sirmium), date back to the Roman period. This zone was a fertile agricultural landscape with dense alluvial forests and a few isolated mountainous areas, such as the Mecsek Hills over Pécs. The south, however, was altogether different, with its forested subalpine character and modest urbanization that lasted until the Ottoman takeover. Indeed, this mountainous area was already a frontier zone before the arrival of the Ottomans. For instance, it was not well integrated into the ecclesiastical administrative system prevalent in the north, and its Christians were considered to be heretics by Catholics and Orthodox alike. To overcome this problem, the Hungarian king Béla IV (r. 1235–70) founded a bishopric in southeast Slavonia in 1239, at Ðakovo. It was safely positioned in the northern lowlands (that is, outside the “heretic” zone) but its success in converting highlanders across the Sava was doubtful. Still, Ðakovo witnessed the improving infrastructure that was evidently beneficial for the trade of salt from the mines of Soli (now Tuzla). With the appearance of the Ottomans during the 1460s, the region came under military control. Initiated by King Sigismund (r. 1387–1437), a defensive chain of fortresses was established along the Sirmian stretch of the Danube and Sava Rivers, which was extended with a western flank in northern Bosnia by King Matthias I Corvinus (r. 1458–90) in 1464. Firmly taking control of the highlands and militarizing it, this strategy delayed the Ottoman advances.
These defensive structures were supplemented by strongholds of spirituality. Perhaps the most venerated site of frontier devotion was the shrine of St. John of Capistrano (1386–1456) in the fortress of Ilok (Újlak) overlooking the Danube.37 Having co-engineered (along with John Hunyadi, the father of Matthias) the most resounding European victory against the Ottomans at nearby Belgrade in 1456, Capistrano became the protector saint of the borderland, while his shrine in this precarious antemurale location grew to be the main pilgrimage site for would-be crusaders and a center for Franciscan anti-Ottoman schemes.38 No wonder in 1526 this Franciscan shrine was one of the first monuments in the Hungarian Kingdom to be swept away by the armies of Sultan Suleiman I. Capistrano was all too notorious in Ottoman eyes to become a syncretistic figure such as St. Spyridon or Sari Saltık, who are venerated elsewhere in the Balkans by Christians and Muslims alike.39 Yet, the memories of his miracles may have infiltrated the Ottoman side of the frontier. None other than ʿAli Dede Bosnawi (d. 1598), a Halveti custodian of the Szigetvár shrine of Sultan Suleiman, alleges in his Muhadhirat al-awaʾ il wa musamirat al-awahir (Lectures of the firsts and conversations of the lasts, 1589) that in Capistrano’s wonder-making sarcophagus at Mitrovica (east of Ilok) there was a cup that was always filled with wine.40 Although the story is apparently conflated with references to the Roman sarcophagi of Sirmium, the Franciscan Church of Buda (originally founded by Béla IV in a different location) still preserves what is said to be the wine cup of St. John of Capistrano.41 In 1689, with the turn of the tide, the Szigetvár shrine of Suleiman would fall victim to its captors as quickly as the shrine of Capistrano did to Suleiman in 1526.
Returning to the mountain forts of the southern defensive chain, which is located at Soko near Gračanica (to the west of Tuzla), one is preserved as what may be the earliest regional example of a preexisting local monument converted to a mosque (Fig. 13.6). This problematic building may have originally been a stone manor house, owned by the family of the Bosnian king Stephen Ostoja (r. 1398–1404 and 1409–18), that was transformed into the mosque of the adjoining fort after its capture by the Ottomans around 1520, hence its name Fethiye (“conquest”) mosque.42 This transformation signaled the start of a hectic era of conversion, reconversion, destruction, and reconstruction that has lasted until the twentieth century, and continues even today. Very little is left of the pre-Ottoman appearance of these religious buildings. Moreover, in cases where we have references to churches or other structures transformed into mosques by the Ottomans, we lack information concerning the aesthetic or representational considerations—beyond the obvious religious motives. Much the same can be said about the Christian appropriation of those structures in the seventeenth century, and it is only in the following century that we can slowly detect the rise of emotional attitudes toward the surrounding built heritage.
As the Ottoman expansion accelerated in the aftermath of 1526, the frontier moved from the Bosnian mountains to the northern plains, and the settlement pattern changed considerably. In the highlands, the salt-mining town of Tuzla developed into a major city, with numerous mosques, the dervish lodges of the Naqshbandi and Halveti orders, a Franciscan mission for the Christians, and a Jewish community.43 Other towns along the trade routes, like Gračanica, also prospered. In contrast, the former centers on the plain suffered widespread destruction due to their exposure to constant warfare. The thirteenth-century cathedral of Ðakovo, for instance, almost completely vanished, as did the University of Pécs, founded in 1367.44 But as the frontline moved further north, these municipalities reemerged as cosmopolitan Ottoman towns. Their population was in flux. Many well-to-do city dwellers fled, while numerous Muslim as well as Greek Orthodox Slav settlers arrived, the majority coming immediately after the conquest, which in the area of Pécs occurred in 1543. With the consolidation of the Drava plain, the salt trade from Tuzla via Osijek flourished again, and it seems that by the early seventeenth century Ðakovo had established itself as the main entrepôt for this route.45 The presence of Ðakovo Muslims in Pécs is suggested by the early seventeenth-century mosque of Yakovali Hasan Pasha, the only neighborhood mosque still standing in the town. Even beyond the Ðakovan connection implied in its name, the mosque’s closest architectural parallel is the Ibrahim Pasha mosque in Ðakovo, which was probably built by Ibrahim Pasha Memibegović (a member of the powerful Sokollu clan), who may have been the father of Hasan Pasha (Fig. 13.7).46
Hungarian inland migration was also considerable; it involved mainly Evangelical Lutherans and Calvinist Protestants, but more radical Unitarians from Transylvania also appeared; the Ottomans could usefully play off these groups against the distrusted Catholics. At Pécs, Jesuit missionaries, Calvinists, and Unitarians were granted the same church for shared use.47 The All Saints Church remains the only ecclesiastical building in the town to fully preserve its pre-Ottoman appearance. The Ottomans chose this church because it lies outside the walls, on a street leading to what may have been a Bektashi tekke, which, in turn, was a former Renaissance villa. A similar situation may have prevailed in smaller towns.
This sort of prosperity could not be achieved north of the Drava until hubs of Christian opposition emerged in the vicinity. The epicenter of such activities was Szigetvár, the stronghold of the Croato-Hungarian Zrínyi (Zrinski) family, whose hereditary estates along the Drava fell into Ottoman hands during the 1540s.48 Miklós Zrínyi (Nikola Šubić Zrinski, 1508–66) led several raids on the areas of Osijek, Ilok, and Ðakovo that often met the support of the local rural population. It was thus imperative for the Ottomans to clear away this obstacle, which led to the 1566 siege that famously claimed the lives of both Suleyman and Zrínyi.49 Subsequent campaigns as far north as Törökkoppány and Lake Balaton (1553), and as far west as Kanizsa (1600)—which marked the northwestern limits of the Ottoman Empire—removed daily military activity from Szigetvár and ensured the integration of the area into the empire for almost a century before it was taken back by Gabriele Vecchi in 1688–89.
In reconquered Baranya County, Muslim allusions were not restricted to surviving mosques, türbes, or türbe-like Calvary chapels, as newly built churches reminiscent of mosques served the very same purpose. For instance, the parish church of the small vine-growing village of Palkonya, constructed on the old route from Đakovo to Pécs in 1816, could be easily mistaken for a mosque (Fig. 13.8). An early Hungarian example of a neo- Classical rotunda, the church was commissioned by Count János Batthyány, possibly to evoke the valiant days of his ancestors.50 As it never had a Muslim population or mosques, the village pertained to the Zrínyi estates that were escheated by the Imperial Chamber in 1696, following the extinction of the Zrínyi family in 1691. From Vienna, it was acquired in 1701 by Count Ádám Batthyány (d. 1703), a lineal descendant of Miklós Zrínyi and fellow protagonist of the Ottoman wars.51
These pseudo-mosques and pseudo-türbes metaphysically transport the pilgrims, first to the now-distant age of the Turkish wars and thence, by implication, to a timeless Palestine, which early nineteenth-century popular imagination located somewhere in the Ottoman East. In this sense, these buildings represent the final stage of a long era of religious conversion and reconversion. Yet, were we to look at artistic forms alone, they are at the same time precursors of another era—of historicism—the architecture of which would choose freely from a wide array of styles depending on the emotional mood, historical period, or geographic location it aimed to call to mind.
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Galavics, Géza. “A Zrínyi kirohanása téma története (Peter Krafft képe és hatása).” In Művészet Magyarországon 1830–1870, vol. 1, edited by Júlia Szabó et al., 61–65. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1981.
Galavics, Géza. “Die Historienbilder von Stephan Dorffmaister.” In Gedenkausstellung von Stephan Dorffmaister/Dorffmaister István emlékkiállítása, edited by László Kostyál and Monika Zsámbéky, 111–126. Zalaegerszeg: Göcseji Múzeum, 1997.
Galavics, Géza. “A szigetvári Dorffmaister-freskó és a Festetichek.” In Koppány Tibor Hetvenedik Születésnapjára. Művészettörténet—műemlékvédelem 10, edited by István Bardoly and Csaba László, 309–317. Budapest: Országos Műemlékvédelmi Hivatal, 1998.
Gattermann, Claus Heinrich. Die Baranya in den Jahren 1686 bis 1713. Kontinuität und Wandel in einem ungarischen Komitat nach dem Abzug der Türken. Göttingen: Universitätsverlag Göttingen, 2005.
Haas, Mihály. Baranya földirati, statisticai és történeti tekintetben. Emlékirat, mellyel a Pécsett MCCCXLV aug. elején összegyült magyar orvosok és természetvizsgálóknak kedveskedik nagykéri Scitovszky János, pécsi püspök, és k. valóságos benső titkos tanácsnok, a’ szépművészetek, bölcsészet és hittudományok’ tanára, a’ kir. magyar természettudományi római t. arcadiai társulat’ tagja, a m. orvosok és természetvizsgálók VI. nagy gyűlésének elnöke. Pécs: Lyceum, 1845.
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. Baranya földirati, statisticai és történeti tekintetben. Emlékirat, mellyel a Pécsett MCCCXLV aug. elején összegyült magyar orvosok és természetvizsgálóknak kedveskedik nagykéri Scitovszky János, pécsi püspök, és k. valóságos benső titkos tanácsnok, a’ szépművészetek, bölcsészet és hittudományok’ tanára, a’ kir. magyar természettudományi római t. arcadiai társulat’ tagja, a m. orvosok és természetvizsgálók VI. nagy gyűlésének elnöke. Haas, Mihály Pécs: Lyceum, . 1845
Hancz, Erika. “Nagy Szülejmán szultán Szigetvár környéki sátorhelye, halála és síremléke az oszmán írott forrásokban”/“Osmanlı kaynaklarına göre Kanuni Sultan Süleyman’ın Sigetvar’daki Otağ Yeri, Ölümü ve Türbesi.” In Szülejmán Szultán emlékezete Szigetváron / Kanuni Sultan Süleyman’ın Sigetvar’daki hatırası, edited by Norbert Pap. Mediterrán és Balkán Fórum8 (2014): 56–71.
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. “ Hancz, Erika Nagy Szülejmán szultán Szigetvár környéki sátorhelye, halála és síremléke az oszmán írott forrásokban”/“Osmanlı kaynaklarına göre Kanuni Sultan Süleyman’ın Sigetvar’daki Otağ Yeri, Ölümü ve Türbesi.” In Szülejmán Szultán emlékezete Szigetváron / Kanuni Sultan Süleyman’ın Sigetvar’daki hatırası, edited by . Norbert Pap Mediterrán és Balkán Fórum 8( ): 2014 56– 71.
Hoško, Emanuel. “L’origine e gli influssi del vocabolario artistico nella Provincia francescana dei Santi Cirillo e Metodio in Croazia.” Ikon 3 (2010): 343–354.
Housley, Norman. “Giovanni da Capistrano and the Crusade of 1456.” In Crusading in the Fifteenth Century: Message and Impact, edited by Norman Housley, 94–115. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004.
Klaniczay, Gábor, “Kapisztrán és a ferences obszervancia csoda-felfogása.” In Európa védelmében. Kapisztrán Szent János és a nándorfehérvári diadal emlékezete, edited by Kálmán Peregrin and László Veszprémy, 72–81. Budapest: HM Hadtörténeti Intézet és Múzeum, 2013.
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, “ Klaniczay, Gábor Kapisztrán és a ferences obszervancia csoda-felfogása.” In Európa védelmében. Kapisztrán Szent János és a nándorfehérvári diadal emlékezete, edited by , and Kálmán Peregrin László Veszprémy 72– 81. Budapest: , HMHadtörténeti Intézet és Múzeum . 2013
Kovács, Eszter. “A budai ferences kolostor a török korban.” In Tanulmányok Budapest múltjából 31, 241–262. Budapest: Budapesti Történeti Múzeum, 2003.
Krstić, Tijana. Contested Conversions to Islam: Narratives of Religious Change in the Early Modern Ottoman Empire. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2011.
Mažuran, Ive. Popis naselja i stanovništva u Slavoniji 1698. godine. Radovi Zavoda za znanstveni rad u Osijeku 2. Osijek: Jugoslavenska akademija znanosti i umjetnosti, 1988.
Minichreiter, Kornelija. “Dio turskog Osijeka na prostoru Križanićevog trga u svjetlu arheoloških nalaza.” In Anali Zavoda za znanstveni rad u Osijeku 3, 43–107. Osijek: Jugoslavenska akademija znanosti i umjetnosti, 1984.
Molnár, Antal, “Jezsuiták a hódolt Pécsett (1612–1686).” In Pécs a törökkorban. Tanulmányok Pécs történetéből 7. Edited by Ferenc Szakály. Pécs: Pécs Története Alapítvány, 1999.
Necipoğlu, Gülru. “The Dome of the Rock as Palimpsest: ʿAbd al-Malik’s Grand Narrative and Sultan Suleyman’s Glosses.” Muqarnas 27 (2008): 17–105.
Norris, Harry T. Popular Sufism in Eastern Europe: Sufi Brotherhoods and the Dialogue with Christianity and ‘Heterodoxy.’ London: Routledge, 2007.
Petrovich, Ede, “A középkori egyetem megszűnése.” In Janus Pannonius Múzeum Évkönyve, 153–170 Pécs: Janus Pannonius Múzeum, 1966.
Pickthall, Muhammad Marmaduke. Roman Transliteration of the Holy Qur-’aan. With Full Arabic Text and English Translation. Lahore: Qudratullah, 2011.
Quakatz, Manja. “‘Gebürtig aus der Türckey’: Zu Konversion und Zwangstaufe osmanischer Muslime im Alten Reich um 1700.” In Europa und die Türkei im 18. Jahrhundert/Europe and Turkey in the 18th Century, edited by Barbara Schmidt-Haberkamp, 411–432. Bonn: Bonn University Press, 2011.
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. “ Quakatz, Manja ‘Gebürtig aus der Türckey’: Zu Konversion und Zwangstaufe osmanischer Muslime im Alten Reich um 1700.” In Europa und die Türkei im 18. Jahrhundert/Europe and Turkey in the 18th Century, edited by , Barbara Schmidt-Haberkamp 411– 432. Bonn: Bonn University Press, . 2011
Repanić-Braun, Mirjana. “Oltarne slike Franza Xavera Wagenschöna u crkvi sv. Mihaela u Osijeku.” Radovi Instituta za povijest umjetnosti 26 (2002): 98–108.
Rüstem, Ünver. “Architecture for a New Age: Imperial Ottoman Mosques in Eighteenth-Century Istanbul.” PhD diss., Harvard University, 2013.
S. Németh, Katalin. “Die Disputation von Fünfkirchen.” In Antitrinitarianism in the Second Half of the 16th Century: Proceedings of the International Colloquium Held on the 400th Anniversary of Ferenc Dávid’s Death in Siklós (Hungary), May 15–19, 1979, edited by Róbert Dán and Antal Pirnát, 147–155. Budapest: Hungarian Academy of Sciences, 1982.
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. “ S. Németh, Katalin Die Disputation von Fünfkirchen.” In Antitrinitarianism in the Second Half of the 16th Century: Proceedings of the International Colloquium Held on the 400th Anniversary of Ferenc Dávid’s Death in Siklós (Hungary), May 15–19, 1979, edited by , and Róbert Dán Antal Pirnát 147– 155. Budapest: Hungarian Academy of Sciences, . 1982
Sugár, István. “Szigetvár kapitulációja és a megadási szerződés.” In Tanulmányok a török hódoltság és a felszabadító háborúk történetéből, edited by László Szita, 125–141. Pécs: Baranya Megyei Levéltár, 1993.
Szántó, Iván. “Centennial Displays of Ottoman Heritage in the Baroque Art of Western Hungary.” In Beiträge zur Islamischen Kunst und Archäologie 6, edited by Lorenz Korn and Çiğdem İvren, 135–152. Wiesbaden: Reichart, 2020.
Szántó, Iván. “Two Islamic Strongholds in Nineteenth-Century Styria.” Studia Litteraria Universitatis Iagellonicae 14 (2019): 257–266.
Teply, Karl, “Türkentaufen in Wien während des Großen Türkenkrieges 1683–1699.” In Jahrbuch des Vereines für Geschichte der Stadt Wien 29, 57–87. Vienna: Verein für Geschichte der Stadt Wien, 1973.
Tracy, James. “The Road to Szigetvár: Ferdinand I’s Defense of His Hungarian Border, 1548–1566.” Austrian History Yearbook 44 (2013): 17–36.
Vatin, Nicolas. Feridun Bey—Les plaisants secrets de la campagne de Szigetvár. Vienna: Institut für Orientalistik der Universität Wien, 2010.
Vatin, Nicolas. “Comment on garde un secret.” In The Ottoman Empire: Myths, Realities and “Black Holes.” Contributions in Honour of Colin Imber, edited by Eugenia Kermeli and Oktay Özel, 239–255. Istanbul: Isis, 2006.
Zolnay, László. “Kapisztrán János címeres ivópohara a budai ferenceseknél.” Budapest: A székesfőváros történeti, művészeti és társadalmi képes folyóirata 11, no. 8 (1973): 409–410.
Nenad Moačanin, Town and Country on the Middle Danube, 1526–1690. Leiden: Brill, 2005.
It constituted the Kanije Eyalet (which officially existed between 1600 and 1699) and the Bosnia Eyalet (1586–1867), with the Sava River serving as natural boundary between them.
For a brief description of the building, see Katalin Granasztói Györffy, Szigetvár, plébániatemplom (Budapest: TKM Egyesület, 1999).
Moačanin, Town and Country on the Middle Danube, 89–90.
Four of Szigetvár’s early sançakbegs bore the name ʿAli, of whom two seem to have held the position for longer than a few months (1571–73 and 1573–79, respectively). The most instrumental early builder of Ottoman Szigetvár and its conquered hinterland, however, was Iskender, the first sançakbeg. See Géza Dávid, “Die Bege von Szigetvár im 16. Jahrhundert,” Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes 82 (1992): 69–70, 71–79.
Unpublished results of an ongoing excavation, led by Erika Hancz, seem to prove that the complex was located elsewhere than the topographical sketches would suggest. See Erika Hancz, “Nagy Szülejmán szultán Szigetvár környéki sátorhelye, halála és síremléke az oszmán írott forrásokban”/“Osmanlı kaynaklarına göre Kanuni Sultan Süleyman’ın Sigetvar’daki Otağ Yeri, Ölümü ve Türbesi,” in Szülejmán Szultán emlékezete Szigetváron/Kanuni Sultan Süleyman’ın Sigetvar’daki hatırası, ed. Norbert Pap, Mediterrán és Balkán Fórum 8 (2014): 56–71.
Attila Gaál, “Turkish Palisades on the Tolna-County Stretch of the Buda-to-Eszék Road,” in Archaeology of the Ottoman Period in Hungary, eds. Ibolya Gerelyes and Gyöngyi Kovács (Budapest: Hungarian National Museum, 2005), 105–8; Claus Heinrich Gattermann, Die Baranya in den Jahren 1686 bis 1713. Kontinuität und Wandel in einem ungarischen Komitat nach dem Abzug der Türken (Göttingen: Universitätsverlag Göttingen, 2005), map 4.
Moačanin, Town and Country on the Middle Danube, 145–46; Gattermann, Die Baranya, 89.
For post-Ottoman forced conversions, see Gattermann, Die Baranya, 87–88; for comparison, see Karl Teply, “Türkentaufen in Wien während des Großen Türkenkrieges 1683–1699,” in Jahrbuch des Vereines für Geschichte der Stadt Wien 29 (Vienna: Verein für Geschichte der Stadt Wien, 1973), 57–87; Manja Quakatz, “‘Gebürtig aus der Türckey’: Zu Konversion und Zwangstaufe osmanischer Muslime im Alten Reich um 1700,” in Europa und die Türkei im 18. Jahrhundert/Europe and Turkey in the 18th Century, ed. Barbara Schmidt-Haberkamp (Bonn: Bonn University Press, 2011), 411–32.
József Molnár, “Szülejmán szultán síremléke Turbéken,” Művészettörténeti Értesítő 14, no. 1 (1965): 64–66.
László Boros, “Dorffmaister Somogyban,” in Somogy Megye Múltjából 5 (Kaposvár: Somogy Megyei Levéltár, 1974), 61–83.
Kornelija Minichreiter, “Dio turskog Osijeka na prostoru Križanićevog trga u svjetlu arheoloških nalaza,” in Anali Zavoda za znanstveni rad u Osijeku 3 (Osijek: Jugoslavenska akademija znanosti i umjetnosti, 1984), 43–107.
Mirjana Repanić-Braun, “Oltarne slike Franza Xavera Wagenschöna u crkvi sv. Mihaela u Osijeku,” Radovi Instituta za povijest umjetnosti 26 (2002): 98–108.
Johann Bernhard Fischer von Erlach, Entwurff einer historischen Architektur (Vienna, 1721), vol. 3, plate 2.
Such as those of Ðakovo (now All Saints Church) and Pécs (Chapel of St. John of Nepomuk, as well as the Inner City Parish Church).
The only significant parallel is the Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul of Kamianets-Podilskyi in Podolia, now Ukraine, with its minaret from the brief Ottoman period (between 1672 and 1699) that is reused as a Marian column.
Éber László, “A szigetvári plébániatemplom kupolafestménye,” Magyarország műemlékei 3 (1913): 193–220; Géza Galavics, “A szigetvári Dorffmaister-freskó és a Festetichek,” in Koppány Tibor Hetvenedik Születésnapjára. Művészettörténet—műemlékvédelem 10, eds. István Bardoly and Csaba László (Budapest: Országos Műemlékvédelmi Hivatal, 1998), 309–17.
soLIManI zrInI qVe fatIs sVbDIta.
sVb Lvne hIs pLanXIt.
For the terms of the Ottoman surrender, see István Sugár, “Szigetvár kapitulációja és a megadási szerződés,” in Tanulmányok a török hódoltság és a felszabadító háborúk történetéből, ed. László Szita (Pécs: Baranya Megyei Levéltár, 1993), 125–41.
reVInDICata faMe Ivre VeterI eXVLt Verat.
hoDIe pICtVrIs eXornata oVans saeCVLVM serVat.
Qurʾan 4:171, al-Nisa, translation by Muhammad Marmaduke Pickthall, Roman Transliteration of the Holy Qur-ʾaan. With Full Arabic Text and English Translation (Lahore: Qudratullah, 2011); Gülru Necipoğlu, “The Dome of the Rock as Palimpsest: ʿAbd al-Malik’s Grand Narrative and Sultan Suleyman’s Glosses,” Muqarnas 27 (2008): 36–38.
Barbara Baert, A Heritage of Holy Wood: The Legend of the True Cross in Text and Image (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 15–41.
About the concealment of the death of the sultan, see Nicolas Vatin, “Comment on garde un secret,” in The Ottoman Empire: Myths, Realities and “Black Holes.” Contributions in Honour of Colin Imber, eds. Eugenia Kermeli and Oktay Özel (Istanbul: Isis, 2006), 239–55.
For a similar political activism at work elsewhere among Dorffmaister’s patrons, see Géza Galavics, Program és műalkotás a 18. század végén (Budapest: Magyar Tudományos Akadémia, 1971).
This opinion was first proposed by Géza Galavics, “Die Historienbilder von Stephan Dorffmaister,” in Gedenkausstellung von Stephan Dorffmaister/Dorffmaister István emlékkiállítása, eds. László Kostyál and Monika Zsámbéky (Zalaegerszeg: Göcseji Múzeum, 1997), 111–26; and “A szigetvári Dorffmaister-freskó és a Festetichek,” 309–17; for a different view, see László Boros, “Stephan Dorffmaisters Auftraggeber und Mäzene in den Komitaten Somogy und Baranya,” In Gedenkausstellung von Stephan Dorffmaister/Dorffmaister István emlékkiállítása, eds. László Kostyál and Monika Zsámbéky (Zalaegerszeg: Göcseji Múzeum, 1997), 217.
Boros, “Stephan Dorffmaisters Auftraggeber und Mäzene,” 216–17.
For the changing Austrian opinion about the Ottoman Empire and Islam after 1683, see Paula Sutter Fichtner, Terror and Toleration: The Habsburg Empire Confronts Islam, 1526–1850 (London: Reaktion, 2008), 73–115; Iván Szántó, “Centennial Displays of Ottoman Heritage in the Baroque Art of Western Hungary,” in Beiträge zur Islamischen Kunst und Archäologie 6, ed. Lorenz Korn (Wiesbaden: Reichert, 2018/forthcoming); “Two Islamic Strongholds in Nineteenth-Century Styria,” Studia Litteraria Universitatis Iagellonicae 14 (2019): 257–66.
For the cross-cultural legibility of Ottoman Baroque, see Ünver Rüstem, Architecture for a New Age: Imperial Ottoman Mosques in Eighteenth-Century Istanbul (PhD diss., Harvard University, 2013), 17–31.
Géza Galavics, “A Zrínyi kirohanása téma története (Peter Krafft képe és hatása),” in Művészet Magyarországon 1830–1870, eds. Júlia Szabó et al. (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1981), 1: 61–65.
For a short description of the ensemble, see Miklós Csapkay and Balázs Dercsényi, Pécs, kálvária (Budapest: TKM Egyesület, 1995).
Gerő Győző, Az oszmán-török építészet Magyarországon. Dzsámik, türbék, fürdők (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1980), fig. 76.
Nathalie Clayer, “Les hauts lieux du Bektachisme albanais,” in Lieux de l’Islam. Cultes et cultures de l’Afrique à Java, ed. Mohammad Ali Amir-Moeizzi (Paris: Éditions Autrement, 1996), 168–83.
Another example of the growing sensibility toward a historicized local heritage is a türbe-shaped well house (late eighteenth century) at Babócsa, Southwest Somogy County, beside what may have been an original Turkish structure in an Ottoman-era garden (“Basakert”), converted to a park of the Somssich castle. Domokos Teleki, Egynehány hazai utazások leírása (Vienna: n.p., 1796), 207.
Emanuel Hoško, “L’origine e gli influssi del vocabolario artistico nella Provincia francescana dei Santi Cirillo e Metodio in Croazia,” Ikon 3 (2010): 343–54; Martin Elbel, “Tanquam Peregrini: Pilgrimage Practice in the Bohemian Franciscan Province,” In Communities of Devotion: Religious Orders and Society in East Central Europe, 1450–1800, eds. Maria Crăciun and Elaine Fulton (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2011), 227–43.
Stanko Andrić, The Miracles of St. John Capistran (Budapest: Central European University Press, 2000), 11–14, 37–58; Gábor Klaniczay, “Kapisztrán és a ferences obszervancia csoda-felfogása,” in Európa védelmében. Kapisztrán Szent János és a nándorfehérvári diadal emlékezete, eds. Kálmán Peregrin and László Veszprémy (Budapest: HM Hadtörténeti Intézet és Múzeum, 2013), 72–81.
Norman Housley, “Giovanni da Capistrano and the Crusade of 1456,” in Crusading in the Fifteenth Century: Message and Impact, ed. Norman Housley (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 94–115.
Andrić, The Miracles of St. John Capistran, 27–29; for examples of conversion, see Harry T. Norris, Popular Sufism in Eastern Europe: Sufi Brotherhoods and the Dialogue with Christianity and ‘Heterodoxy’ (London: Routledge, 2007), 1–5; Tijana Krstić, Contested Conversions to Islam: Narratives of Religious Change in the Early Modern Ottoman Empire (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2011), 121–42; Nathalie Clayer, “Les miracles des cheikhs et leurs fonctions dans les espaces frontières de la Roumélie du XVIe siecle,” in Miracle et Karáma. Hagiographies médievales comparées, ed. Denise Aigle (Turnhout: Brepols, 2000), 435–58.
Moačanin, Town and Country on the Middle Danube, 175–77.
It was transferred back to Hungary from Vienna in 1772, see László Zolnay, “Kapisztrán János címeres ivópohara a budai ferenceseknél,” Budapest: A székesfőváros történeti, művészeti és társadalmi képes folyóirata 11, no. 8 (1973): 409–10. For the Medieval and Ottoman fortunes of the Franciscans of Buda, see Eszter Kovács, “A budai ferences kolostor a török korban,” in Tanulmányok Budapest múltjából 31 (Budapest: Budapesti Történeti Múzeum, 2003), 241–62.
John Bold et al., Archaeological Ensemble of the Old Mosque of Soko (Sarajevo: Bosnia and Herzegovina Commission to Preserve National Monuments, 2007).
Adem Handžić, Tuzla i njena okolina u XVI vijeku (Sarajevo: Svjetlost, 1975), 165–88.
Ive Mažuran, Popis naselja i stanovništva u Slavoniji 1698. godine. Radovi Zavoda za znanstveni rad u Osijeku 2 (Osijek: Jugoslavenska akademija znanosti i umjetnosti, 1988), 12; Ede Petrovich, “A középkori egyetem megszűnése,” in Janus Pannonius Múzeum Évkönyve (Pécs: Janus Pannonius Múzeum, 1966), 153–70.
During the period, a quick urbanization can be observed as opposed to the almost stagnating rural settlements. Towns attracted numerous Muslim settlers, and converts as well, while most of the villages remained Christian. Muslim villages can be observed only in Slavonia near Osijek, Orahovica, and Požega. Moačanin, Town and Country on the Middle Danube, 24–25; for the demographics of Baranya, see Gattermann, Die Baranya in den Jahren 1686 bis 1713, 72–199.
Balázs Sudár, A pécsi Jakováli Haszan Pasa-dzsámi (Budapest: Műemlékek Nemzeti Gondnoksága, 2010); for a more general context of the Memibegović family network, see Moačanin, Town and Country on the Middle Danube, 103.
Antal Molnár, “Jezsuiták a hódolt Pécsett (1612–1686),” in Pécs a törökkorban. Tanulmányok Pécs történetéből 7, ed. Ferenc Szakály (Pécs: Pécs Története Alapítvány, 1999), 171–265; Katalin S. Németh, “Die Disputation von Fünfkirchen,” in Antitrinitarianism in the Second Half of the 16th Century: Proceedings of the International Colloquium Held on the 400th Anniversary of Ferenc Dávid’s Death in Siklós (Hungary), May 15–19, 1979, eds. Róbert Dán and Antal Pirnát (Budapest: Hungarian Academy of Sciences, 1982), 147–55.
Gizella Cenner-Wilhelmb, “Ikonograpische Ruf der Familie Zrínyi,” in A Zrínyi család ikonográfiája, ed. Gizella Cenner-Wilhelmb (Budapest: Balassi 1997), 26–36.
For the chronicle of events, see, for example, James Tracy, “The Road to Szigetvár: Ferdinand I’s Defense of His Hungarian Border, 1548–1566,” Austrian History Yearbook 44 (2013): 17–36; Nicolas Vatin, Feridun Bey—Les plaisants secrets de la campagne de Szigetvár (Vienna: Institut für Orientalistik der Universität Wien, 2010); for an iconographic survey, see Géza Fehér, “Hungarian History in Islamic Miniature Painting,” in The Muslim East: Essays in Honour of Julius Germanus, ed. Gyula Káldy-Nagy (Budapest: Eötvös Loránd University, 1974), 108–16.
József Brüsztle, Recensio Universi Cleri Dioecesis Quinque-Ecclesiensis (Pécs: András Madarász, 1880), 4: 269–70; for the patron, see Mihály Haas, Baranya földirati, statisticai és történeti tekintetben. Emlékirat, mellyel a Pécsett MCCCXLV aug. elején összegyült magyar orvosok és természetvizsgálóknak kedveskedik nagykéri Scitovszky János, pécsi püspök, és k. valóságos benső titkos tanácsnok, a’ szépművészetek, bölcsészet és hittudományok’ tanára, a’ kir. magyar természettudományi római t. arcadiai társulat’ tagja, a m. orvosok és természetvizsgálók VI. nagy gyűlésének elnöke (Pécs: Lyceum, 1845), 99.
Gattermann, Die Baranya, 429.