Ritualized Hospitality: The Negotiations of the Riga Capitulation and the Adventus of Boris Sheremetev in July 1710

Abstract

The inseparable connection between hospitality and hostility is a central characteristic of hospitality. This article takes up this aspect and examines it using the example of Riga’s surrender in July 1710. Within barely two weeks, the city and its inhabitants changed their legal status twice: from a besieged to an occupied city and from occupied to Russian subjects. These transformations were embedded in forms of ritualized hospitality in which attackers and besieged, occupied and new rulers met. While the provision of hostages in the course of the negotiations on the surrender of the city enabled non-hostile communication and were intended to ensure the success of the negotiations, the entry of the Russian General Field Marshal Sheremetev into the city of Riga ten days later transformed Riga into a Russian city and its inhabitants into Russian subjects. It thus served to display Russian rule and secure it.

In the summer of 1726, Aubry de la Motraye, an educated Frenchman, traveled through the south and the east of the Baltic Sea region. His journey took him from the Netherlands, through to the north of the Holy Roman Empire and Prussia, on to Poland–Lithuania and then to the Baltic as far as Saint Petersburg. Six years later, in 1732, he published the third volume of his travel account, which described this particular journey through the Baltic Sea region.¹ Typical for the period, his travelogue offers a colorful mix of information on travel as such, i.e., the means of transport, traffic routes, accommodation and travel conditions, but it also provides information on the regions and places he passed through and their history, combining factual descriptions and anecdotes. One of these details is particularly interesting for the focus of this study: While describing his stay in Riga and the history of this city, de la Motraye mentions that,

It has been pretented, that the Governour of Riga’s Refusing to shew Prince Menzikoff and General le Fort the Fortification of that Place, when the Grand Czarian Embassy passed that Way, was the original cause of the War declared against Sweden by the Czar and the King of Poland: It was said also, that, when Prince Menzikoff reported this Affair, aggravating the Refusal of the Governour, who, in all other Respects, did all possible Honour to the Embassy, the Czar answered, That he hoped to see the Day, when he should be able to refuse the same Thing to the King of Sweden himself.²

This anecdote refers to the temporal and spatial horizon of the investigation, the Great Northern War (1700–1721), which broke out only three years after Tsar Peter I’s (1672–1725) stay in Riga, and the Swedish Baltic provinces Estonia and Livonia; it also relates to this volume’s analytical key concept and showcases the great importance that contemporaries attributed to hospitality. Unfulfilled (expectations of) hospitality is stylized as the probable real cause of war in the Baltic Sea region. It was Peter I himself who “originally justified his war [against Sweden] as retribution for disrespect and injuries that he had suffered while visiting Riga during his Grand Embassy to Europe in 1697.”³

The explanation seems insufficient and unlikely from the point of view of modern research, and Pärtel Piirimäe points out that this was also true for contemporaries when he emphasizes that such an argument “was rather outdated in the context of contemporary international law.”⁴ But the episode nevertheless provides insights into the effort taken by contemporaries who tried to explain events of their presence in keeping with their world of experience and their normative horizons, thus, highlighting the importance of hospitality.

“The basic function of hospitality is to establish a relationship or to promote an already established relationship.”⁵ Hospitality is understood as means of interaction between hosts and guests.⁶ It structures and thus regulates relations between insiders and outsiders and applies to both the private and the public.⁷ Judith Still stresses that hospitality is a structure with “no fixed content.”⁸ Thus, “it opens a space and forms of exchange that allow for encounter.”⁹ Even more than that, hospitality creates spaces based on the relation of the one(s) offering and the one(s) receiving hospitality. Hospitality both describes and constitutes this relationship. What is more, hospitality is culturally bound and practices of hospitality vary in space and time.¹⁰ Nevertheless, the introductory episode hints that there were shared notions of what people expected hospitality to be that were then actualized by participants through their particular actions in concrete situations. This example also shows that there were limitations to hospitality. However, the general question whether these limitations were experienced by all participants involved or whether they could be set and perceived unilaterally must remain unanswered in the context of this study.

German historian Gabriele Jancke identifies two master narratives of hospitality: economization of hospitality and hospitality as part of state or nation formation.¹¹ Heidrun Friese likewise refers to the connection between hospitality and “the political and legal institutions of the community or the state.”¹² While the economization narrative concentrates on travelers and their reports and addresses the administration and handling of resources of hospitality as well as an increasingly widespread mobility, the state formation narrative emphasizes border-crossing and managing encounters with strangers in the context of social groups defined in national, religious or ethnical terms, and the political and territorial macrostructures surrounding them.¹³ By focusing on the moment regarded as the beginning of Russian rule in the Baltic, the present study ties in with this latter perspective.

The year 1710 is considered as the starting point of Russian rule in the Baltic, after the provinces of Estonia and Livonia, which had been Swedish since 1560 and 1629, respectively, had been successively occupied by Russian troops. In October 1709, the second siege of Riga began during the Great Northern War. By the time Peter I declared war on Charles XII of Sweden (1682–1718) in August 1700, Russian units had already given support to Saxon troops when they tried to conquer Riga in February of that same year.

However, the attackers were defeated by the Swedish army in the summer of 1701. In the second attempt, the Russian troops were successful, and after a nine-month siege, the city surrendered on July 4, 1710. These events are well known to the historiography of the Baltic.

In this precarious phase in the midst of war, which can be characterized by the collapse of an existing (political) order and a high degree of physical, social and political insecurity, the first encounters that took place were between the besieged and the attackers, between those who surrendered and the new rulers. These meetings were sensitive situations, not least because they happened in the context of military conflict and consequently carried with them the potential for escalating violence. Here, a core characteristic of hospitality is reflected even in the external framework of these encounters: the inseparable connection between hospitality and hostility.¹⁴

In this situation, the two parties to the encounter—the Livonian knighthood and the representatives of the city of Riga on the one hand, and the Russian Field Marshal General Boris Sheremetev (1652–1719) on the other—employed forms of ritualized hospitality which allowed them to establish frameworks for non-violent communication, thus contributing to the securitization of their encounter.¹⁵ Friese points out that “practices of hospitality aim to bridle antagonism and hostility.”¹⁶ “Acts of hospitality […] are structurally transformative,” meaning that “givers and/or receivers of hospitality are […] not the same after the event as they were before.”¹⁷ How these events of ritualized hospitality were shaped was thus also a reflection of the shifting relationships and power relations between the parties involved. This is demonstrated in two examples: the negotiations preceding the city’s capitulation on July 4, 1710, and the entry of Russian Field Marshal General Boris Sheremetev into Riga ten days later.

Due to Riga’s symbolic and strategic importance in the ongoing war, as well as its economic importance as the biggest city in the Baltic, the events of 1709–1710 generated a wide media echo.¹⁸ No contemporary printed accounts of the surrender and homage of other places in the Baltic Sea region, such as Dorpat (Tartu) in 1704, Reval (Tallinn) and Pernau (Pärnu) in 1710, Stade in 1712 or Stettin (Szczecin) or Stralsund in 1715 can be found in comparable numbers or described in similar detail.¹⁹ In addition to pamphlets describing the siege and surrender of Riga to Russian troops, chronicles of its citizens and records of the Livonian knighthood and the Riga city assembly (Bürgerschaft) have been preserved and were published in print, then and later.

Turning Hostiles into Guests: Hostage Provision During the Negotiations on the Riga Capitulations

From the end of June 1710, the Swedish governor-general Nils Stromberg (1646–1723) and Livonian estates, i.e., the Livonian knighthood and city assembly of Riga, negotiated the surrender of the city with Russian Field Marshal General Boris Sheremetev. The terms on which a city would surrender were formulated in a so-called capitulation. Surrendering to the Russian troops would transform the besieged Swedish city into an occupatio bellica. In early modern international law, this was the war-related appropriation of an object, i.e., a territory or a movable or immovable thing or a person. These objects were regarded as ownerless: the conqueror, through his victory and the associated appropriation, acquired the power to rule and thus also acquired full sovereignty over it, replacing the previous ruler. Peace treaties could confirm the new state of rule, but were not required to do so since the new state of affairs resulted from a factual situation.²⁰ Capitulations had the character of a treaty and were valid for the duration of the war; thus, as legal instruments, they did not have far-reaching, binding obligations under international law. In addition to military matters, they also regulated the interests of the submitting cities and allowed for the establishment of the current situation’s legal foundations. This gives capitulations the additional character of an instrument of security.²¹

The initiation and negotiation of capitulations followed an established and well-known procedure, which can also be traced in the case of Riga. In accordance with contemporary war practice, hostages were exchanged between the parties at the beginning of the negotiations. Hostage-giving has been known as a security tool since ancient times. In the current research, this phenomenon has been studied mainly for the Middle Ages, less so for the early modern period.²² But the provision of hostages was common until the eighteenth century. The prevalence of this practice can be guessed from the fact that the German jurist and publicist Johann Christian Lünig (1662–1740) explicitly mentions it in his Theatrum Ceremoniale, a comprehensive description of contemporary ceremonial, published in two volumes in 1719 and 1720. He, too, emphasizes the importance of providing hostages as a means of securing negotiations, and he refers to the hostage as “a pledge,” noting that such figures were “sent away for security until that which was promised was fulfilled.”²³ Moreover, the fact that the exchange of hostages finds its entry in a work of contemporary ceremonial science indicates its high degree of ritualization. The role of hostages as a security instrument in the context of early modern peace negotiations has recently been discussed by Rebecca Valerius and Horst Carl, using the example of the peace negotiations of Madrid (1526) and Vervins (1598). They emphasize that hostages were used in the early modern period as a means of securing the contents of treaties, but due to the lack of enforcement mechanisms, this instrument can only be considered effective to a limited extent. More important for the hostages’ position was their communicative potential.²⁴

In the present case, the provision of hostages was intended to make negotiations possible and thus overcome hostility. In this objective, the giving of hostages coincides with a central function of hospitality: hospitable practices “aim at reliability.”²⁵ On the one hand, the hostages compensated for the lack of trust between the enemy parties, and, on the other, according to the recesses of the Livonian knighthood, they were to influence the negotiations in the interests of their respective negotiating party. On June 25, the Livonian knighthood consented to the Swedish governor-general’s request to initiate negotiations with the enemy and his proposal of a mutual hostage exchange to secure the negotiations.²⁶ And they urged such action in the following conferences with him, as well as the exchange of hostages necessary for this purpose.²⁷

In the context of negotiations, including surrenders, being a hostage was necessarily a voluntary act.²⁸ This means that the hostages did not obtain their status through force, but were expected to freely place themselves in the hands of the other side and thus become guests for an unforeseeable period of time—their stay depended on the duration of negotiations and the implementation of the results.²⁹ In the case at hand, the hostages only remained with their hosts for four days. On July 1, they were exchanged. Leonhard Kagg, a Swedish soldier present at the exchange, mentions in his diary that on the previous day, i.e., on June 30, the members of the Riga garrison were ordered to reinforce the troops on the counter-guard, which was located near the city gate through which the Russian hostages were to enter the city, with about 60 men.³⁰ This shows that, although provision of hostages and exchanging them were established procedures of securitization, there were apparently also security concerns. It is unknown from the available sources to what in concrete terms these concerns referred. Conceivably, the besieged might have worried about the safety of the guests, as well as fear that the enemies could misuse the situation to take advantage of the exchange of hostages and make an (renewed) attack on the city. It is evident that in this phase, hostility dominated the encounter. Both potential concerns indicate how risky and insecure the initial act of hospitality was for both the designated guests and hosts.³¹

The importance attributed to hostages is obvious in the stated expectations of the Livonian knighthood, who not only made the welfare of its members dependent on the hostages but also believed that “if the hostage is well received by both sides … the final purpose of the agreement should proceed all the better.”³² So it was the treatment of the hostages, or in other words, the hospitality towards them, that mattered, and which thus became a decisive factor of successful securitization. The provision of hostages was consequently a security instrument that required acts of hospitality in order to be effective: hostages had to be received, accommodated and supplied with food during their stay with their hosts. Moreover, they had to be entertained. All of this had to be organized in advance. From the records of the Riga city assembly and the Livonian knighthood, it is evident that while the hostage-giving was obviously considered a common and proven means of negotiation, the estates at the same time endeavored to keep the burdens associated with the reception of these guests as low as possible. This ambivalence can be explained by Jancke’s finding that hospitality associated with hostage situations was a necessary form of hospitality, which could be paired with obligation and coercion, in contrast to voluntary hospitality. These necessary forms of hospitality were a public matter that had to be shouldered by society as a whole, in this case economically by the estates.³³

When Sheremetev demanded hostages from the other party on June 29, Riga’s vice governor, Johann Adolf Clodt von Jürgensburg (1658–1720), took this as an opportunity to raise the issue of financing the sustenance of the Russian hostages in a meeting with the representatives of the Livonian knighthood and suggested that the knighthood and the city should share the costs.³⁴ It took a good two days before an agreement could be reached about the distribution of costs. On June 28, Jürgensburg had suggested that the enemy hostages be accommodated in the house of the absent Riga Statthalter Michael Strohkirch († 1724) and that he wanted to stay there himself to entertain them if the city would bear the costs. The representatives of the city assembly agreed to pay for the wine, while the knighthood was to cover the rest. After their initial agreement, however, the members of the knighthood withdrew their commitment. It was not until two days later that a new agreement was reached regarding the provisioning of the hostages: the knighthood agreed to cover one-third of the costs incurred, while the remaining two-thirds were to be borne by the city. An innkeeper called Michael Gösen was charged with serving a table of 12 people daily at noon, and in the evening with “five perfectly good dishes,” as it is said in the sources. Two of these people were ordinary guests, and the other ten were the expected Russian hostages together with an additional company. For these ten, Gösen was to receive two guilders per person each day. Bread, wine and water were provided separately.³⁵

On July 1, the Livonian land marshal and about 100 members of the Riga garrison received three Russian guests at the agreed-upon place for exchange in the suburb and escorted them into the city.³⁶ While the reception of the Russian hostages is only briefly described in the sources, the reception of those transferred to the Russians by the Riga side is described in more detail: The hostages and the deputies of the Riga city assembly were met at the exchange place like honored guests. The Russian commander-in-chief Sheremetev demanded that hostages be given only from the knighthood, but left the Riga city assembly free to send its own deputies. The field marshal general sent three six-horse carriages to transport them to the Russian camp. They were accompanied by 100 cavalrymen who rode ahead of the carriages, and an equal number of infantrymen who followed the carriages.³⁷ Here, too, the ambivalence inherent to hospitality becomes clear: on the one hand, the escort served to pay respect to and honor the guests, but, at the same time, since they were still hostiles, the security aspect cannot be overlooked. The hostages had to be secured so that nothing happened to them, but also so that they could cause no harm.

The host, Sheremetev, received the hostages “personally in front of the gate … with a handshake” and guided them with his suite into the building to the most representative room.³⁸ This reception emphasizes in a strong symbolic language the willingness of the Russian side to welcome the foreign hostages as equal members of the princely society, thus turning them into guests and overcoming their hostility. Here, Jancke’s observation that “hospitality … took place primarily within members of a community, and that meant in group cultures and according to the rules of belonging,” receives confirmation.³⁹ The hostages were treated as official representatives of the opposite side and thus as welcome guests. Both the bringing-in and the open-air reception translate this readiness to offer welcome into the language of ceremonial. At the same time, these actions can be interpreted as a means of paying respect and tribute to the role of the representative and, at least in the case of the hostages, to their noble background. “[T]he diverse practices of hospitality which transform the stranger, the guest, into a human and social being have been understood as processes which order ambivalences in an effort to place the unknown, albeit precariously, within the social geography.”⁴⁰ From this perspective, it is understandable that no distinction was made between the municipal deputies and the noble members of the group. This was tantamount to a rise in status and rank for the urban delegates.

For lunch and dinner, the guests were treated to three courses each. The first two courses are said to have included “25 different dishes” and “the third course is said to have consisted of pyramids with jams, [and] in addition three different wines were served.”⁴¹ Only the field marshal general, Russian minister Gerhard Johann von Löwenwolde († 1723), the generals and the hostages as well as the city of Riga’s deputies took part in the meals, while the other officers “waited behind their chairs.”⁴² This shows that only the circle of the highest-ranking sat at the table, thus giving the guests a special honor. Moreover, instrumental music provided entertainment for the guests.⁴³ On the morning of the second day in the Russian camp, the hostages were led to a table “with pyramids of all kinds of preserved food in the middle and filled tea sets at one end, but coffee at the other.”⁴⁴

The description of the meals is based on the oral report by one of Riga’s burgomeisters, Hermann Witte von Nordeck (1652–1710), and documented in the files of the Riga city assembly. He described the treatment of the Swedish hostages and the deputies of the city of Riga in the Russian camp. Due to its context and the way it was preserved, it cannot be assumed that the report was intended for a wide audience, but was primarily addressed to the municipal decision-makers. That the representation of the common meal had such a central place in the description of the mayor need not surprise us. Tables, food and drink were symbols both of hospitality and social hierarchical orders.⁴⁵ The detailed account of the meals in the hostile camp and at the enemy table took on the same communicative and securitizing functions as the communal meal eaten there itself. The aim of the banquet was to establish or confirm friendship, even if it was organized out of obligation and thus formed part of a necessary and ritualized hospitality. The meal was thus explicitly about emphasizing the common, the connected, the trusted and about the exclusion of hostility.⁴⁶ The meal, as well as its description, became an expression of “confidence-building, adherence to treaties, containment of violence, and intensification of contacts.”⁴⁷

Witte von Nordeck’s report made it possible for his audience to be convinced of the good treatment of the hostages by the Russian side, because talking banquets “had the meaning as information about status, hierarchy, both for rank in comparison with other hospitable situations and for social hierarchy in comparison with hosts and guests of other status.”⁴⁸ As Jancke explains: “The number of dishes and courses could already suffice as information about the level in which the meal was to be classified; if additional information was given about the type of food and wine, then it also had the task of conveying the message of quality, honor and social rank.”⁴⁹ In writing about the treatment of the hostages, von Nordeck’s description tried to engender feelings of friendship and trust towards the enemy within the members of the Riga city assembly, helping them evaluate whether the fundamental condition for the success of their chosen security measure had been met, whereby they might thus transform a relationship of enmity into one of amity.

On closer observation, the quantitative difference in the hospitality provided to the hostages is striking. While the Russian side allegedly served two three-course meals per day—with the main courses alone comprising 50 dishes—and offered several types of wine and even luxury goods, such as coffee, the food on hand in Riga was sparse, with only five dishes served twice a day. Nevertheless, the more modest supply in Riga seems to have been considered appropriate by the Russian side. This may have had something to do with the circumstances of the preceding nine-month siege and the knowledge that the Riga inhabitants did not have the resources for more sumptuous meals. However, it is equally plausible that Witte von Nordeck’s description is an overemphasis on Russian hospitality, designed to convince his audience of the generosity, civility, friendliness and courtesy of the enemy hosts. This may have been necessary to build up confidence in the opposite party, given the cruelty and violence of the preceding siege, as well as the still widespread anti-Russian resentment that had gained new momentum by the propaganda during the Great Northern War.⁵⁰

Indeed, the care of the hostages in Riga was probably not without complications, otherwise governor-general Stromberg would not have complained on July 2 that he was “displeased about the hospitality towards the hostages, which did not happen as it should.” What exactly gave rise to the governor-general’s criticism, however, is not clear from the available sources and literature. The Burgrave of Riga, in turn, justified the measures taken and complained about the large number of guests as well as their alleged all-day consumption of alcohol, which was perceived as excessive.⁵¹ This finding indicates that norms of hospitality did not only apply to hosts, but to guests as well. There were (implicit) expectations of how guests should behave. In the present case, two issues were sources of irritation and thus contradicted the hosts’ expectations: the number of persons who had to be served and their consumption of alcohol. Such norms “are to order the ambivalent relationship between host and guest to protect both from the ‘smallest injury, and exclude any possibility of hostility’.”⁵² In this case, the violation of norms was apparently not considered so serious as to jeopardize the success of the hostage exchange.

We do not learn more about the stay and treatment of the hostages from the source material available. But the provision of hostages and the fulfillment of associated demands for hospitality obviously accomplished its confidence-building function. In so doing, it not only transformed hostiles into hostages and hostages into guests but resulted in the securitization of the relationship between the attackers and the city and the Livonian estates by laying the foundations of a new relationship in the form of a capitulation which turned attackers into conquerors, and the besieged city into an occupatio bellica whose status was sanctioned by international law.⁵³ Even though the framework for this relationship was still hostile, the insecurity and danger of war could thus be managed.

Welcoming the New Host: The Adventus of Field Marshal General Boris Sheremetev to Riga

On July 14, 1710, only a few days after the capitulations had been signed, the members of the Livonian knighthood and the Riga city assembly performed homage towards the new ruler. André Holenstein defines “homage as a legal act of recognition by a subordinate to the address of his master, executed by vow or oath.”⁵⁴ Political oaths aimed at building a trusting political relationship, as Sari Nauman argues.⁵⁵ The fact that homage was demanded following surrender was in accordance with the contemporary ius in bello.⁵⁶ In the case of Riga, the rapid claim for the execution of homage reflects, on the one hand, the Russian understanding that “the incorporation of people in the course of imperial expansion … was primarily carried out on the basis of the oath of the natives”—this also applied to the Baltic provinces—and, on the other hand, this insistence was rooted in the tsar’s political goal of securing de facto possession of the Baltic provinces, contrary to the assurances given to Augustus of Saxony and Poland (1670–1733).⁵⁷ The homage turned occupied Riga into a Russian city and the oath-swearers into subjects of the tsar, who regarded their inclusion in his realm as an act of grace.⁵⁸ And the wild and dangerous war situation, which had prevailed until only ten days before this event, was transformed into a new ruling order, which, like all pre-modern rule, inherently carried the promise of the sovereign’s protection and security. Andreas Gestrich and Bernhard Schmitt stress that despite the fact that changes of rulership were a defining characteristic of the early modern period, the encounters between rulers and ruled who were strangers to each other posed a major challenge.⁵⁹ In the present case, the homage was preceded by the entry of the ruler’s representative into the city. A ruler’s adventus into the city already had a legally constitutive character, which was especially true for first entries into a city, as in the case of Riga.⁶⁰ The entry not only visibly represented the ruling order to the outside world but at the same time consolidated it and thus contributed to its security. Gabriele Jancke explicitly characterizes the adventus of the ruler or his representative as in the case of Riga as a festive and highly ritualized form of hospitality; however, she does not provide an in-depth discussion of it.⁶¹ The Russian Field Marshal General Sheremetev’s demand to enter into Riga and receive homage clearly shows that even in this case we should not talk about a voluntary, but rather a necessary act of hospitality, one which reflected the new power positions of the participants.⁶² The representative of the occupying power could decide whether the occupied had to offer him hospitality.

The ruler’s adventus followed a relatively standardized choreography. Gerrit Jasper Schenk, who intensively analyzed this phenomenon in the late medieval Holy Roman Empire, distinguishes between the adventus itself and the adventus ceremonial, which he divides into six phases: the preparatory phase, meeting (occursio), entry and reception (ingressus), procession through the city (processio), visit to the main church (offertorium) as well as the accommodation in the city.⁶³ These phases can also be reconstructed in the case under scrutiny.

There is little information in the sources about the preparations and any arrangements for the course of events and ceremonial, but the material suggests that Sheremetev set the order of events and the ceremonial for his entry.⁶⁴ Apparently, he wanted a procession led by the knighthood. This is suggested by the advice given by the Russian city commander von Osten, who told the members of the knighthood that he “would not consider it unwise, if the knighthood would take the trouble for its own recommendation, to escort [Sheremetev] on his way to the city on horseback as [is] customary.” Considering the loss of horses from the siege, “those who had no horses and wanted to prove their willingness to do so, should be helped by the [Russian] generalship with as many capable horses as necessary for this purpose.”⁶⁵ Rejecting the designated guest’s expectations here would inevitably engender new hostility between the field marshal general and the knighthood. Bearing in mind the entire course of events leading up to the adventus—the war, capitulation and provision of hostages—it must therefore be doubted whether the members of the Livonian knighthood actually had a choice. Here, the coercive nature of this hospitality situation comes to the fore: this is further underlined by the fact that the members of the group to be hosted, the Russian generalship, offered to help those who were to provide hospitality fulfill the hospitable tasks assigned to them.

On the morning of July 14, about 40 members of the Livonian knighthood assembled on horseback “in the castle garden” in front of the castle “to give more splendor” to the entry of General Field Marshal Sheremetev.⁶⁶ Between 8 a.m. and 8:30 a.m., a group of members of the Livonian knighthood under the leadership of Baron Mengden left with an unknown number of Riga city assembly members through the so-called Charles Gate towards the Russian camp to meet Sheremetev and accompany him on his way to the city.⁶⁷ From the very beginning of the event, the members of the hosting community were at the service of the guest, giving him guidance and thus not only paying tribute to him but, above all, enhancing his prestige. And even if it is not in the foreground, the security aspect is always implicit in an escort of honor.

The fact that the party from Riga traveled all the way to the expected guest and virtually picked him up at his front door can be interpreted as an expression of the greatest honor. This act was also, however, simultaneously inserted into another narrative inherent in the events: In the immediate vicinity of the Russian camp, the hosts themselves turned into guests. This is also reflected in their behavior, which was very subservient and demonstrated the significant power differential that worked to the disadvantage of the arriving party. They approached the Russian camp on foot, after having dismounted from their horses shortly before Dreylinghof to walk the last part of the way to the tent of the field marshal general, opposite to which they lined up. Requesting an audience, which Sheremetev granted them, they were even turned into supplicants.⁶⁸ The field marshal general thanked them in full for the well-mannered speech which Baron Mengden gave.⁶⁹

The act of dismounting and the speech have been described for the Middle Ages as elements of the occursio.⁷⁰ In the present case, however, such acts were designed solely to emphasize the power of the designated guest. This is evident from the sheer number of hosts riding out to meet him. The hosts behavior further underlines the asymmetry of power between the subservient hosts and the designated guest. The hosts do not wait until the guest’s physical appearance to dismount but do so well before reaching his camp. Moreover, they have to ask for an audience before they can give their speech. Sheremetev then decided on a processional formation for the march: two grenadier officers, followed by 38 grenadiers on horseback, then 16 servants also on horseback, after whom came 36 hand-horses, followed by ten partly empty and partly occupied carriages, drawn by six horses each, then two officers to each horse, thereafter the members of the Riga city assembly on horseback, followed by the members of the Livonian knighthood, also on horseback, then the general’s Guard Corps, consisting of 72 men, followed by another coach with noble gentlemen, and finally the richly gilded carriage of the field marshal general drawn by six horses. In the front of this coach rode some trumpeters and two drummers, then a standard. The carriage was accompanied by Turkish dressed footmen. It was followed by a kettledrummer, four further trumpeters, two French horn players and eight oboists. The final part of the formation was comprised of some servants on horseback.⁷¹ In total, the procession included more than 300 people. At 11 a.m., they started moving towards the city.⁷² The sheer number of people arriving in a city that had until recently been under siege and bombardment must have posed a major challenge to the hosts. The majority of the guests were members of the military. They were expected to stay in the city, at least temporarily. On a symbolic level, the size of the procession already indicated that it was not an ordinary guest, but instead the new ruler of the city, who literally wanted to fill the city with his people.

On his first step through Charles Gate into the city, Sheremetev was received by the burgomeister and council, who presented him with two golden keys on a velvet pillow.⁷³ In this moment, shots were fired from the guns of the city and the citadel.⁷⁴ Crossing the city gate marks the crossing of a threshold. The arriving party becomes a guest at the moment of entering urban space. He enters the space of the other, the host who welcomes him, which is visibly demarcated and protected by walls. Thus, the guest is admitted into the protective space of the city. The symbolic handing over of the city keys fundamentally changed this situation, however. By accepting the keys, the guest became the city lord and thus became the host. He was now in control of the city (gates) and could decide who was and was not allowed to stay there. The previous hosts became guests in their own city. Moreover, the handing over of the keys symbolizes the recognition of the person entering as the legitimate ruler of the city. According to Schenk, the handing over of the keys represented the core of the adventus ceremonial.⁷⁵ Regularly, the keys were returned to the representatives immediately after the handover. Thus, the new lord of the city entrusted city representatives with the control of the city by proxy, and at the same time he reverted to being a guest.⁷⁶ This was apparently not done in the present case: this underlines Sheremetev’s acquisition of control over Riga and the transformation of the city into a space of Russian rule.

The impression of the Russian field marshal general’s control over the city was reinforced by the fact that foreign soldiers lined the streets from the city gate to the castle, all along Sheremetev’s processional route.⁷⁷ A Russian garrison replaced the Swedish one in Riga on July 10, so the city was already militarily occupied and controlled by strangers. Considering the large crowd accompanying Sheremetev, the placement of soldiers along the parade route must be interpreted not only as having symbolic import but also as a concrete security measure. It was the guests who had taken control of the city and who guaranteed public security now. Beyond this role reversal, it is interesting to note that according to the accounts of the Riga city assembly, the offering of the keys was not a voluntary act of hospitality or tribute paying—although that ritualized tradition existed—but was instead demanded by Sheremetev in exchange for the concessions made by the Russian party in the negotiation of the capitulation.⁷⁸ This incorporated tokens of symbolic subordination to diplomatic gift-giving practices.⁷⁹ Moreover, this reveals very clearly that hospitality, or elements of hospitality, in the given case was not a value or norm in and of itself, as is often discussed in research, but could actually form the object of exchange, being used as an immaterial (trade) good.⁸⁰

The procession continued up to the castle, where the deputy of the land marshal, the unmounted members of the Livonian knighthood, the landed nobility and the clergy awaited the field marshal general so that they could pay their respects.⁸¹ Once again, the new host was received. He was met in front of the castle at the bottom of the stair case and led from there to an elevated chair in the hall, the so-called Großer Ritter-Saal in the castle.⁸² There, Captain Menck held a speech in German, a so-called “Bewillkommungs-Rede,” for Sheremetev on behalf of the Livonian knighthood.⁸³ Although this speech was labeled as a welcome address and thus fit into the hospitable framework of the whole event, its main purpose was to assure the knighthood of the tsar’s willingness to confirm their privileges after the homage was completed. For the second time that day, the members of knighthood played the role of supplicants. Afterwards, Sheremetev attended a church service in the Russian chapel, while the members of the Livonian knighthood retired to an adjacent room. The field marshal general was then led into the castle church, where the superintendent gave the homage sermon. Here ended the actual adventus: Sheremetev did not stay in the city, but returned to his camp after accepting the homage.⁸⁴ This indicates that the field marshal general’s entry was not mainly concerned with him being welcomed into the city and staying there, but primarily about demonstrating the city’s appropriation, which was made visible to the outside world in the language of hospitality.

After the sermon, the members of the Livonian knighthood took the oath of homage before the altar, for which there was no generally valid ceremonial, according to Lünig.⁸⁵ The field marshal general, accompanied by the members of the Livonian knighthood who preceded him, then went into the town to the market square, where a stage clad in red cloth had been erected before the town hall; on this stage stood a red velvet-lined chair under a golden-fringed sky, raised on three steps. With the Rittersaal in the castle and the market square with the town hall, the field marshal general had access to two rooms and spaces central to the political life of the city and the whole province, both of which had been sumptuously equipped in his honor. After Sheremetev had taken his place beside the chair, the members of the Riga city assembly, followed by the elders of the guilds, entered the stage and swore the oath of homage.⁸⁶ Following this, the field marshal general returned to his carriage. The departure route taken by Sheremetev looked to outside eyes exactly the same as had his entry into the city.⁸⁷ But something decisive had now changed: the members of the knighthood and the Bürgerschaft now provided the escort to the representative of their new sovereign. In his camp, Sheremetev invited them in—they thus became guests, who, according to the sources, were treated with all courtesy.⁸⁸ The host, however, remained in his role as a host.

Concluding Remarks

In July 1710, the inhabitants of Riga underwent two status changes within only two weeks: from besieged to occupied and from occupied to Russian subjects. With each of these transformations of their legal status, they formally gained more security. These changes were embedded in acts of ritualized hospitality, each of which fulfilled a different function. In the case of the capitulations, the hostages’ position and the appropriate hospitality provided to these hostile guests functioned as a security tool that facilitated non-violent communication and also helped to build trust between the opposing parties. Shortly after the capitulations were signed, the Russian Field Marshal General Sheremetev made his entry into Riga. Although the parties involved used expressions of ritualized hospitality, the display of Russia’s claim to power dominated events, so that the city’s population did not primarily welcome a guest but their new host, by whose entry into Riga they were made guests in their own city. While the hostage exchange was aimed at mutual reassurance, Sheremetev’s adventus into Riga was designed to secure Russian rule.

Notes

• 1. On Aubry de la Motraye, see Goetze (2018: esp. 54–56).

• 2. Motraye (1732: 104). All italics in original.

• 3. Piirimäe (2014: 71); Wittram (1964: 136–142).

• 4. Piirimäe (2007: 81).

• 5. Selwyn (2000: 19).

• 6. See the introduction by the editors of this volume.

• 7. See Still (2011: 5); Heal (2011: 1).

• 8. See Still (2011: 5).

• 9. See Friese (2004: 74). All italics in original. On the spatial dimension of hospitality, see also the introduction to this volume.

• 10. See Still (2011: 5); similarly, Heal (2011: 4).

• 11. On the problem of master narratives, see the reflections of Jarausch and Sabrow (2002).

• 12. Friese (2004: 69).

• 13. See Jancke (2013: 17).

• 14. On the connection between hospitality and hostility, see Kearney (2016), who discusses the possibility and impossibility of hospitality; Friese (2004: 69).

• 15. See Selwyn (2000: 20).

• 16. Friese (2004: 70).

• 17. Selwyn (2000: 20).

• 18. See Tuchtenhagen (2005); Harder-Gersdorff (2005).

• 19. Stade, Stralsund and Stettin were the most important cities in the Swedish duchies of Bremen, Verden and Western Pomerania in the north of the Holy Roman Empire. The territory of Bremen was occupied by the Danish army in 1712 and, at the same time, Verden was invaded by Hanoverian troops. In 1715, Danish troops also occupied Western Pomerania. See the themed number of Stader Jahrbuch 2019, which is dedicated to the events of the Great Northern War in the former duchies of Bremen and Verden, as well as Meier (2008).

• 20. Steiger (2006: 214–237).

• 21. Ungern-Sternberg (2014: 18–23).

• 22. Selected: Kintzinger (1995); Kosto (2012); Bennet and Weikert (2017).

• 23. Lünig (1720: 1237). According to Heal (2011: 4) such descriptions of the conventions of hospitality were a late phenomenon in the early modern period.

• 24. See Valerius and Carl (2019).

• 25. Friese (2004: 70).

• 26. See Schirren (1865: 316).

• 27. See Schirren (1865: 317, 319–320).

• 28. See Valerius and Carl (2019: 489).

• 29. This interpretation corresponds with Jancke’s wide understanding of hospitality, which includes, e.g., exile situations as well as military quartering, though she does not mention hostage situations explicitly. See Jancke (2013: 144).

• 30. See Kagg (1912: 165).

• 31. Valerius and Carl (2019: 492) also explicitly point out the elaborate security measures during the exchange of hostages.

• 32. Schirren (1865: 320).

• 33. See Jancke (2013: 144, 198–207).

• 34. See Schirren (1865: 320).

• 35. See Blumerincq (1902: 3–4, 7). In the recesses of the knighthood, it is said that on June 28, 1710, its members agreed to pay one half of the costs incurred, see Schirren (1865: 320).

• 36. See Schirren (1865: 324).

• 37. See Schirren (1865: 324); Blumerincq (1902: 12).

• 38. See Blumerincq (1902: 12).

• 39. Jancke (2013: 144–145) (quote at 144). The idea of the princely society (société des princes) was coined by Bély (1999).

• 40. Friese (2004: 71).

• 41. See Blumerincq (1902: 12).

• 42. See Blumerincq (1902: 12).

• 43. See Blumerincq (1902: 12).

• 44. See Blumerincq (1902: 12).

• 45. See Jancke (2013: 335–362).

• 46. See Jancke (2013: 204).

• 47. Strohmeyer (2017: 627).

• 48. Jancke (2013: 343).

• 49. Jancke (2013: 345).

• 50. On the perception of Peter I and Russia, see, e.g., Blome (2000).

• 51. Buchholtz (1892: 306). Blumerincq (1902: 11) has summarized the report in question.

• 52. Friese (2004: 70).

• 53. On the Baltic capitulations, see Brüggemann et al. (2014).

• 54. Holenstein (1991: 9). On early modern homage, see also Nauman (2017); Brademann (2014); Keller (1994).

• 55. See Nauman (2017: 19).

• 56. See note 20. Further examples of homage enforced by occupiers can be found in Brademann (2014: 194).

• 57. Vulpius (2020: 55) (quote). On Peter I’s decision to keep the Baltic provinces, see Piirimäe (2014: 72–74).

• 58. See Vulpius (2020: 56–66).

• 59. See Gestrich and Schmitt (2013: 9–10).

• 60. Schenk (2003: 292); Tenfelde (1982: 55).

• 61. See Jancke (2013: 400–401).

• 62. See Blumerincq (1902: 20–21, 23–26); Schirren (1865: 331).

• 63. See Schenk (2003: 239–242). On the early modern ruler’s adventus, see Rudolph (2011: 80–185). Still essential to this Dotzauer (1973); Tenfelde (1982); from the perspective of art history, see Kremer (2020).

• 64. See, e.g., Schirren (1865: 330). Additionally, on the preparations for the homage, see Blumerincq (1902: 21, 23–25).

• 65. Schirren (1865: 330–331).

• 66. See Schirren (1865: 331–332).

• 67. See Helms (1711: [27]); Einzug (1710: [2]); Schirren (1865: 331–332).

• 68. See Schirren (1865: 332); Einzug (1710: [2]).

• 69. See Schirren (1865: 332).

• 70. See Schenk (2003: 279–280).

• 71. See Helms (1711: [27–28]). Similar, albeit less detailed, Einzug 1710: [2–3], and, more cursorily, Schirren (1865: 332).

• 72. See Helms (1711: [27]).

• 73. See Einzug (1710: [3]); Schirren (1865: 332).

• 74. See Einzug (1710: [3]); Helms (1711: [28]).

• 75. See Schenk (2003: 347).

• 76. See Schenk (2003: 347–348).

• 77. See Helms (1711: [27]); Einzug (1710: [3]).

• 78. See Blumerincq (1902: 13).

• 79. It was customary to pay respect and gratitude to the envoys of the other side after successful negotiations by giving them gifts. On diplomatic gift giving, see Windler (2020); Althoff and Stollberg-Rillinger (2015); Häberlein and Jeggle (2013); Duchhardt (1972).

• 80. For discussion about hospitality as a universal norm, see the introduction to this volume.

• 81. See Einzug (1710: [3]); Schirren (1865: 332).

• 82. See Einzug (1710: [3]); Schirren (1865: 332).

• 83. See Einzug (1710: [3]); Schirren (1865: 332). The episode of the welcome address is missing in Helms (1711). The text of the welcome address can be found in: Bewillkomungs-Rede.

• 84. See Schenk (2003: 381).

• 85. See Einzug (1710: [3–4]); Helms (1711: [28]); Schirren (1865: 332–333). See Lünig (1720: 821), and note also Nauman (2017).

• 86. See Einzug (1710: [4]); Helms (1711: [28]); Schirren (1865: 333) without any details; Blumerincq (1902: 27–28).

• 87. See Einzug (1710: [4]); Helms (1711: [28]); Schirren (1865: 333) without any details; Blumerincq (1902: 28).

• 88. See Einzug (1710: [4]); Helms (1711: [28]); Schirren (1865: 333).