The Lebzelter and the Perníkář

Meandering through early 19th Czech vital records can be a delightful immersion in a world of pre-Industrial occupations still ruled by medieval guild traditions. One occupation that has always tickled my fancy is the gingerbread baker, who is known in German records as the Lebzelter and in Czech records as the perníkář. As famous as Czechs are for their kolaches, they are just as well known for their decorative gingerbreads, which in recent times have been a favorite gift from the Czech government to the British royal family on the occasions of royal baptisms.

As old as the Egyptian pyramids, gingerbread first came to Europe with the returning Crusaders. The first gingerbread was a simple mix of honey, rye flour, and water, but in time, each baker developed his own carefully guarded recipe that included spices such as cloves, cinnamon, anise, and pepper. From the added pepper came the Czech name perník. Honey was the inspiration for the German name; the honey cake lebkuchen comes from an old German word for sweet. Gingerbread was brought to Bohemia in 1355 from Nuremberg, Germany; by 1415 gingerbread bakers’ guilds were appearing in Bohemia. Today, Pardubice is most famous for its gingerbread, but perník bakeries can be found throughout the Czech Republic.

The traditional Lebzelter/perníkář of the 19th century was more than just a baker. He also kept bees and processed several products from the hive besides honey. After harvesting the bulk of the honey from the combs, any remaining honey was extracted with water and the sweet liquid was fermented to make the honey wine that our ancestor knew as mead. Although a popular drink in medieval times, it was eventually supplanted by beer as a daily beverage. The beeswax was turned into high quality candles that burned without the greasy odor of the cheaper tallow candles. The local church, with its high demand for votive candles, was the main customer for these candles. As a purveyor of high-quality candles and ornately decorated gingerbreads, the Lebzelter / perníkář was a well-respected and prosperous member of the community.

Johann Honl (1791-1862) of Česká Třebová, for example, was the town’s Lebzelter /perníkář during most of the first half of the 19th century, having already been established in that occupation by the time he married at age 23. At a time when almost half of town residents were illiterate, Honl’s educational level was evident from the fact that a.) he signed his name on parish records and b.) his signature shows up as the stylized and neatly written script of a practiced writer. His signature even included a final flourish typical of town elites. His signature appears frequently in parish records, when he served as a godparent or wedding witness for other prominent citizens in the community. His house at No. 100 was conveniently located a few streets away from the town square on a large lot, where his bees would have had plenty of room to work undisturbed. There too, his separation from his neighbors would minimize any fire risk from his bread oven and vats of hot wax. Yet, despite the isolation of Honl’s shop from the main activities of the town, it’s not hard to imagine the trail of customers on market day being drawn towards the aroma of his baking gingerbread.

Anna Honl (1759-1823): Black Widow?

Anna Honl had the serial habit of marrying older men; she outlived four husbands. Was she a gold-digging black widow, who married for financial gain…or something else? A closer look at her personal history through the parish vital records might provide a better appreciation of who she really was.

Anna Crescentia Honl was the first surviving child of Jan and Rosalia Honl, who came to Česká Třebová from the upriver town of Trebovice. Jan, her father, found work as a podruh, i.e., a farm servant; a decade later he had attained the status of a shoemaker. There were two more babies born in Anna’s family before her mother died and another six after her father remarried. With so many children to raise on the small income of either a podruh or a shoemaker, Anna grew up poor. As a podruh, her father was paid only a small wage; he also received room and board with the farmer’s family and a yearly allotment of second-hand clothing and shoes. Anna would have known hard work from a young age; the entire family worked for the farmer and his wife. Although shoemakers were a step above podruhs on the social ladder, they were generally the poorest among craftsmen. Perhaps Anna grew up wanting a more comfortable life than what she had known as a child.

Anna was 21, when she married the 78-year-old weaver, Josef Zayicek, recently widowed with grown children of his own. Zayicek was only one year younger than Anna’s grandfather, but he offered a more financially secure life for Anna as he was the owner of a house with a garden. After 15 months of marriage, Anna gave birth to a daughter, Anna Marie who lived 23 days. Two years later, Josef Zayicek died. Anna’s first marriage had lasted less than four years.

With little claim to any inheritance, Anna remarried seven months later. This time she married the 64-year-old twice-widowed weaver, Jan Duspiva. During the seven years of her second marriage, Anna bore three sons; none survived their childhood. But Anton, her youngest, was still alive when Anna was widowed for the second time. It appears that the Duspiva family kept Anton, when Anna married Jakub Sheybal, a 60-year-old widower and podruh. As the wife of a podruh, Anna had now returned to a life of hard work on the farm, where she was at the beck and call of the farmer’s wife rather than a mistress of her own home. This third marriage of Anna’s lasted almost 12 years; there were no children. Anna was 45 years old when Jakob Sheybal died.

Now, three-times widowed, it seemed that Anna had not accrued much profit from her marriage strategy except for the security of a roof over her head during her married life. And, afterwards, each widowhood had been brief as if Anna was not welcome to linger in any of her last homes. Perhaps her fourth marriage would be the charm.

Wenzl Waniaus was 51 when his wife of many years died. Wenzl was a Spitaler, i.e., a resident of the town’s poorhouse, where those who were unable to support themselves by disability and poverty, were allowed to live, if there was space and they were judged sufficiently pious. Wenzl occupied one of these valued spaces. His relative youth compared with the other Spitalers suggested a serious disability unrelated to old age. Whatever his disability, Wenzl was eager to remarry and Anna Honl-Zayicek-Duspiva-Sheybal was available. Wenzl and Anna married just three weeks after Wenzl became a widower. Anna’s search for housing security and some comfort seemed to have been finally successful. Besides caring for Wenzl, her only other duty was to offer daily prayers along with Wenzl for the founder of the poorhouse. And, when Wenzl died 16 years later, Anna, now 69, was guaranteed, as the widow of a Spitaler, a roof over her head for the remainder of her life. She died a year later.