Season 11 – The Fall and Rise of the House of Habsburg

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How the Habsburgs got their Chin

“The Habsburgs ruled half of Europe with a chin that entered the room five minutes before they did,” is one of those witticisms that made the 19th century so amusing. But by then the Habsburg jaw had long receded.

It had its heyday in the 16th and 17th century when people in Spain called out to the future emperor Charles V: “Your majesty, shut your mouth! The flies of this country are very insolent.” And when they looked at his later descendant, king Charles II who was probably the worst affected, they said, he was “more Habsburg than human”.

But where is the Habsburg Jaw from? The view repeated again and again in history books is that it came from Cymburga of Masovia, the wife of duke Ernst the Iron, but was she really responsible? Or was it something quite different that caused that deformation, and what has it to do with the prostration of duke Friedrich IV before emperor Sigismund in 1415?

That is what we are looking at in this episode.

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Transcript

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 207 – Of Land and Lip – How the Habsburgs got their chin, which is also episode 5 of Season 11: The Fall and Rise of the House of Habsburg.

“The Habsburgs ruled half of Europe with a chin that entered the room five minutes before they did,” is one of those witticisms that made the 19th century so amusing. But by then the Habsburg jaw had long receded.

It had its heyday in the 16th and 17th century when people in Spain called out to the future emperor Charles V: “Your majesty, shut your mouth! The flies of this country are very insolent.” And when they looked at his later descendant, king Charles II who was probably the worst affected, they said, he was “more Habsburg than human”.

But where is the Habsburg Jaw from? The view repeated again and again in history books is that it came from Cymburga of Masovia, the wife of duke Ernst the Iron, but was she really responsible? Or was it something quite different that caused that deformation, and what has it to do with the prostration of duke Friedrich IV before emperor Sigismund in 1415?

That is what we are looking at in this episode.

But before we start just the usual handing round of the begging bowl. I guess you know the drill by now, but if you are still listening, maybe you feel it is time to make a contribution to the continued existence of the show, free of advertising. And if you do, go to historyofthegermans.com/support and choose one of the various options. Just do not get confused when the software asks you for your account details, even if you get here for the first time. Do not worry, all it is trying to do is to get you to open an account by providing an email and password, so that you can access the bonus episodes and the forum.

And special thanks go to Morera, Edward B., Derrick C, Derek Edmundson, Barry J. R., Joachim B., Lonhyn J., Steve and Stephen C. who have already signed up.  

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And with that, back to the show.

Last week we ended with archduke Friedrich IV, count of Tyrol kneeling before emperor Sigismund and begging to be readmitted to his grace.

The kneeling was certainly humiliating, but the other conditions of his pardon were threatening the viability of the whole Habsburg project. Friedrich had to surrender all of his lands to the crown, keeping only those that Sigismund chose to return to him as a fief. And that return of the lands Sigismund had made dependent upon Friedrich standing trial in Constance for his treason and any other claims anyone else might be bringing.

Friedrich IV before emperor Sigismund – Richetal chronik

In other words, the chance that Friedrich would be stripped of all his lands for good was pretty high. It is in this period that Friedrich IV gained his nickname, Friedel mit der leeren Tasche, Friedrich with the empty pockets.

A loss of his lands, in particular of the Tyrol, would have significantly altered the Habsburg trajectory; because of the silver mines of Schwaz. This “mother of all mines” grew to be the largest industrial complex in Europe, where 10,000 miners dug up silver ore, ore that acted as collateral for the immense loans granted by Jakob Fugger and others, which in turn funded the Burgundian wars of Maximilian and the election of Charles V as emperor. In other words, without the Tyrol, no loans, no Spanish Netherlands and hence no Habsburg empire.

The mining district Rerobichl near Kitzbühel in Tyrol (Schwazer Bergbuch, Innsbruck, Tiroler Landesmuseum, Codex Dip. 856, table ” Kitzbühel ” )

The fate of the Habsburg family hung in the balance.

The one who put his considerable weight on to the scales was Ernst, the Iron, duke of Styria, Carinthia and Carniola and brother of Friedrich IV. Upon news of Friedrich’s surrender, he popped up in Meran and began organizing the resistance, and maybe his own takeover of the county.

Friedrich now had to decide. He could stay in Constance and bet on Sigismund’s mercy, or he could flee to Tyrol bringing the wrath of the emperor, an excommunication by the council and an invading army of princes down on him.

William Coxe described Friedrich’s situation in Constance as follows, quote: “Meanwhile Friedrich was detained at Constance, where he was treated like a culprit, and watched like a prisoner. He was brought into the courts of justice, to answer all the complaints which were preferred against him ; he was repeatedly excommunicated by the bishop of Trent, for not restoring the dominions of that see, and threatened with still severer punishments by the council; he was deserted by all, avoided as a heretic and a traitor, reduced to want, and deprived of all necessities of life. Malicious reports were industriously circulated that he was engaged in plots to assassinate Sigismund, and menaces were not withheld that he was destined to become a sacrifice to public justice.” End quote.

OK, so the imperial mercy option looks distinctly unpromising. Friedrich had to go for option 2. On March 1st, 1416, he fled from Constance and returned to Tyrol via Feldkirch and the Arlberg pass.

When he arrived in Tyrol, he was warmly greeted by the estates of the county. Which must have been a great relief for Friedrich. Friend of the Podcast Enea Silvio Piccolomini in his gossipy biography reports that Friedrich was popular with the common people because; quote: “he would often change his dress and visit taverns and farmers unrecognised. There, he enquired, as if a stranger, what they thought about the country’s government and asked much about the dukes, the barons, and the prince. When he heard them praise the prince and criticise the barons, he was glad that he enjoyed the people’s favour”. End quote.

Hence his subjects preferred him to the emperor Sigismund, they preferred him to a Bavarian duke, they preferred him to his brother Ernst, the only thing they did not prefer him to, was death.

So, despite his jubilant reception in Meran, and Ernst subsequent withdrawal back to Styria, Friedrich was by no means out of the woods yet. If Sigismund could muster an army and go down to Tyrol, his vassals may not be as supportive as they appeared right now. His barons may rise up after all. Sigismund tried to encourage them to do exactly that. He even kept dangling the carrot of imperial immediacy before them, if only they would help him toppling the obstinate count of Tyrol and deliver him to Constance.

Throughout 1416, 17 and 18, Sigismund was trying to put together a force that could make an attempt at the topographically challenging Tyrol. He called on the Swiss Confederation, the German cities, the dukes of Bavaria, the Counts Palatine, even his friend and protégé, Friedrich of Hohenzollern, who he had just made margrave of Brandenburg.

But they all turned him down. The Swiss had already got what they wanted when they took the Aargau, the German cities had lost confidence in the constantly cash-strapped emperor, duke Ludwig the Bearded of Bavaria was disappointed when Sigismund first denied him satisfaction against his cousin who had tried to smash his head in, and then passed him over when it came to awarding the margraviate of Brandenburg (all that is in episode 172).

Duke Ludwig the Bearded of Bavaria-Ingolstadt being attacked by henchmen of his cousin Duke Heinrich the Rich of Bavaria-Landshut

The imperial princes finally did not see much benefit in helping Sigismund expanding his empire through the acquisition of Tyrol. And on top of that, Sigismund had dozens of other matters to attend to, the two remaining renegade popes, the fallout from Teutonic Knights’ defeat at Tannenberg, issues in Hungary, a marital crisis, money problems etc., etc. pp. Sigismund was always frazzled, but never more so than during this period.

And so, in 1418, at the behest of the newly elected pope Martin V and under pressure of the mounting tensions in Bohemia following the trial and execution of Jan Hus (Episode 174) Sigismund made peace with Friedrich IV. They met in Merseburg on lake Constance and hashed out a deal.

And as always with Sigismund, when he realised his political options were exhausted, he sold out. So for the trifling sum of 50,000 florins, Friedrich was re-enfeoffed with the Tyrol. And he was given permission to pay out any of the other princes who had taken over his other lands in 1415.

Despite the vast amounts of silver coming out of Schwaz, It took Friedrich a decade plus to get all his former possessions back. Except for one, the Aargau, the ancient homeland of his family was not for sale. The Swiss Confederation could not be bought. The Castle of the Hawk would never return into the family possessions, all they kept was the name.

Schloss Habsburg

Friedrich IV ruled for another 21 years, and whilst he could not shake his nickname as Friedrich of the empty pocket, he became again one of the richest princes in the empire. That wealth came in part from the mines, but also from the fundamental changes he implemented in his lands.

Piccolomini had noted that when Friedrich took charge of Tyrol, the county was ruled by the barons and he had quote “no power by himself. And “he grew tired of it and wanted to change things.”

Schloss Tirol in Meran – ancient seat of the counts of Tirol

Before Friedrich IV moved to Meran in 1410, there had not been a continued presence of the Habsburgs in Tyrol. As so often, the constant shortage of cash compelled the princely rulers to mortgage their rights and lands to the local aristocrats and ultimately left the management of the county entirely to them.

In his first year as count, Friedrich established a register of ducal rights in the Tyrol. He hired administrators who began collecting on these rights, whilst his accountants kept track of money coming in and money going out. Friedrich moved the centre of the princely administration from Meran to Innsbruck where he established the Neuer Hof, which became the residence for the duke and the permanent seat of the government.

Innsbruck Neuer Hof (Goldenes Dachl dates from emperor Maximilian, not Friedrich)

Innsbruck was a strategically better location, in particular because it was at the intersection of the East-West route between Austria and the ancestral lands on the upper Rhine and on the North-South Route across the Brenner Pass. And most importantly, Innsbruck is just 30 km from the silver mines of Schwaz.

Friedrich did not limit his activities to just enforcing or buying back of his existing rights, he also tried to actively expand them. And for that he used the Privililegium Maius, the forged list of ancient rights and titles his uncle Rudolph the Founder had bestowed on the family. And these rights were far reaching and in many ways unprecedented. They included, amongst other, a ban on any man within the geographic boundaries of the county to hold immediacy, aka report directly to the emperor. Further, all temporal courts, authority over the forests and game, waters and woods are subordinate to the duke. And, whatever the Duke shall ordain  or command in his lands and regions may not be changed in any manner, in any way, or at any future time, by the Emperor or any other authority. And best of all, these provisions were supposed to apply not just in Austria, but in any territory the house of Austria had already or would in the future acquire.

Privilegium Maius

Sure, this is all made up, but then Friedrich IV made it reality.

The people must upset about these policies were the Tyrolean barons. They formed noble societies intended to oppose these changes. Friedrich neutralised these societies by asking to become a member himself, a demand the aristocrats could hardly refuse.

But the most powerful of these barons, Heinrich von Rottenburg, whose inherited title of Hofmeister had made his family the de facto rulers of Tyrol, kept the feud going. He called upon duke Stephan of Lower Bavaria and the bishop of Trient/Trento to help him put Friedrich back into his box.

Heinrich von Rottenburg

This lord of Rottenburg was a tough nut and a famous duelist who had killed “many men” and according to Piccolomini “had a coffin with lighted candles carried with him” at all times as a courtesy to his victims.

Still the duke prevailed, mainly because he could rely on the support of the estates, specifically the cities and the gentry who were tired of the abuse by the constantly feuding barons. Rottenburg surrendered in 1410 and six months later he was dead. Whether he was put in his travel coffin, we will never know.

This success did much for the reputation of Friedrich which may explain why he was so enthusiastically received when he returned from his ill-fated adventure in Constance.

In 1419, the most serious of these baronial revolts kicked off. The lords of Starkenberg, of Spaur, the family of Oswald von Wolkenstein, ably supported by the bishop of Trient and the condottiere Pandolfo Malatesta, attacked Friedrich’s castles. Friedrich managed to withstand this first wave of attack. And then through a combination of diplomacy, legal action and occasional warfare, he managed to break the alliance of the barons.

The last of the barons to surrender was Oswald von Wolkenstein, the knight and poet. His life is such a riveting tale. He had started out as knight errand, travelling to Prussia, Russia, Tartary, Turkey, the near east, the Holy Land, Italy, France, the Black Sea and Aragon. He had gone to Konstanz with Friedrich IV but then changed sides and entered service with the emperor Sigismund. He was sent to England on a diplomatic mission, he was in Perpignan helping to bring the antipope Pedro da Luna to resign, he went on crusade in North Africa. Back home he feuded with his peers. One of these feuds went horribly wrong. He was captured by his opponent and extensively tortured, before ending up in one of Friedrich IV’s prisons.

Oswald von Wolkenstein

His poetry ranges from tales of his travels, much self-deprecation, a heavy dose of sex, mixed with a religious poetry and just pure joie de vivre.

And he used his gift to have a go at Friedrich. Here is one of his complaints:

“I complain of the day,
that I first gave my faith
to a lord who keeps empty hands.
Though I served him long and well,
I find no thanks, no reward,
only sorrow, hunger, and grief.
He calls himself Duke,
yet leaves his men in want —
truly he is poor in purse and poorer in heart.”

This is also the oldest reference to Friedrich IV as being penniless.

I thought about creating a whole episode on Oswald von Wolkenstein, but I think we need to press on now. Maybe we can do it as a bonus episode, if you guys want me to.

Back to Friedrich IV. Our friend Silvio Aeneas Piccolomini summarised his other feats and qualities as follows: quote: “He took a wife from the House of Braunschweig. She bore him a son whom she wanted to be named Sigismund. .Friedrich was a man of great sexual appetites and had affairs both with married women and married men but mostly with maidservants. He loved money, and therefore he never wanted to fight the Venetians since they assisted him financially.” End quote.

We will get back to Friedrich IV in a moment. First we need to talk about his elder brother, Ernst, his wife Cymburga and the reason you probably pressed play on this episode, the famous Habsburg Jaw.

The reason we talk about this now is that the eldest son of Ernst was the first of the Habsburg who is confirmed to have presented that famous feature, the Habsburg lip. Just have a look at the episode artwork. And based on a long tradition, last repeated by Andrew Wheatcroft in 1995, this son had quote “inherited his most striking characteristic, a fat and ponderous lower lip” from his mother, .

Friedrich V (III as emperor)

His mother, Cymburga of Masovia could probably take it. She was by most accounts a strong woman, as in strong enough to bend horseshoes and drive nails into walls with her bare hands. A most suitable companion for a duke who went by the name Ernst, the iron, or as others called him, the  “little robber with the giant beard”.

Archduke Ernst the Iron with his wives, cymburga on teh left (1820)

But did she really bring this world renowned trait into the family?  

Before we go there, let’s just define what exactly is the Habsburg Jaw? It is a hereditary deformation whereby the lower jaw outgrows the upper jaw, resulting in an extended chin and a crossbite. This Mandibular Prognathism is the result, not of just one genetic mutation, but multiple genes that add up together to create a particular trait. To get all these genes in the right order requires a seriously intense level of inbreeding, which is why these conditions are very rare. And in the case of the Habsburgs, there are some additional features like the pointy nose, thick lips and droopy eyes, all of similar provenance, aka requiring multiple genes acting in concert.

Forms of Prognathism

These features vary in degree and become ever more pronounced throughout the 16th and 17th century until we hit Charles II of Spain who was so deeply affected, he could neither speak nor chew normally.

So, let’s take a look at the alleged culprit, Cymburga. First up, we have no contemporary portrait of her. Polish and Austrian chroniclers who knew her, did not mention a protruding jaw.

Cymburga of Masovia (picture from the 16th cnetury)

Now let’s look at her genetic inheritance.

She was the daughter of the duke of Masovia, a cadet branch of the Piast family, the kings of Poland. Her mother was the sister of Jogaila, the grand duke of Lithuania and king of Poland who had defeated the Teutonic Knights at Tannenberg. There is little chance that her parents had much blood in common, given her mother’s family had only recently converted to Christianity and had hence not been suitable marriage material for European royalty.

Her father’s family had one ancestor with a jawline deformation, Boleslaw Wrymouth, the king of Poland who was born in 1086, aka 300 years before Cymburga. It is also not clear whether Wrymouth’s impairment had been genetic or had been caused by an injury.

Boleslaw III Wrymouth (as imagined in the 19th cnetury)

The Poles are currently undertaking a broad analysis of the DNA of their Piast kings and dukes, none of which had noticed an anomaly linked to Mandibular Prognathism, though admittedly that is not what they were looking for. These studies are published in Polish, which is why I had to rely on Chat GPT to see whether there was anything in it, a notoriously unreliable source. So, if any of you can read Polish and can have a look, it would be much appreciated.

Dukes of Masovia (~1450)

Let’s add all this together, (i) Cymberga’s parents were not closely related, (ii) there is no record of her having the feature and (iii) there is no record of anyone in her family having a Habsburg jaw, except for an ancestor who lived 300 years earlier. So simply on the basis of probability, Cymberga should not be on the top of the list. There were many more likely candidates amongst the Habsburg spouses of the 13th, 14th and 15th century, all of which came from the closely interrelated community of the imperial princes.

So, why would anyone single out Cymburga?

I spent a solid day trying to trace where the first mention of Cymburga as the origin of the Habsburg jaw came from. And this turned into a truly epic and pointless goose chase. I started with Andrew Wheatcroft who quoted a book by Friedrich Heer, which does not contain the claim that Cymburga was the source. Then I looked at William Coxe who made the same allegation. He just referenced “authorities” with no further detail.

Wikipedia then directed me to Robert Burtons, Anatomy of Melancholy of 1621.

Robert Burton, Anatomy of Melancholy, 1621

I have not read the book, but Coleridge, Wordsworth, Herman Melville, Milton, Samuel Johnson, Laurence Sterne, John Keats and Philip Pullman clearly loved what medical researchers described as “that omniumgatherum of anecdotes of insanity whose burden was that mankind — including the author himself — was quite out of its mind”.

Not very reliable, but even stranger, at no point does Robert Burton even mention Cymburga. That did not stop Chat GPT and its ilk to hallucinate a detailed quote from Burton, which again, could not be found at the reference they give, nor anywhere else.

Chat GPT making stuff up….

Then Wikipedia directed me to the history of Vienna by Wolfgang Lazius from the middle of the 16th century. Again nothing at all. A run through the digitalised content of the Bavarian state library then brought up stories about Cymburga, just not ones about the Habsburg lip.

Instead the story goes that duke Ernst had met Cymburga at some event at the court of emperor Sigismund. And he was so struck by her extraordinary beauty, he travelled to Krakov in disguise to woo her. In one retelling he saved her from an attack by a brown bear, which is depicted in a 19th century picture, today in the Belvedere. So unless Ernst had a strange penchant for chinful women, Cymburga was unlikely to be afflicted by a deformation of the jaw.

Franz Dobiaschofsky, 1850 – Duke Ernst the Iron saves Cymburgis of Masovia 

There is however a conceivable reason in this story that may explain why Cymburga was blamed.

Cymburga and Ernst were both members the high aristocracy, unmarried and a link between Habsburg and Poland was politically opportune. So why the cloak and dagger story and the bear thing.

The problem was that Cymberga’s existence reminded the family of another humiliation. Ernst’s older brother Wilhelm had been engaged to Hedwig, the daughter of king Louis of Hungary and Poland. Hedwig is better known to posterity as Jadwiga, the girl that was made king of Poland in 1384. Wilhelm and Jadwiga were apparently quite close and she had lived in Austria as a child. But in the complex negotiations following her father’s death, the Polish estates decided that the engagement to Wilhelm should be set aside and that Jadwiga should marry Jogaila, the grand duke of Lithuania instead. Jogaila, who was Cymburga’s uncle, leveraged this marriage into the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth that dominated much of central Europe. We covered this tumultuous process in episode 169.

Dymitr of Goraj by Jan Matejko depicts Jadwiga trying to break the castle gate to join William

Whilst the marriage to Jogaila made sense for the Poles, it was a massive snub to the Habsburgs. Breaking engagements was something a king or emperor could do to a burgrave of Nurnberg or a margrave of Baden, but not to an archduke of Austria. Well the Poles had done it and the Habsburgs had to face the fact that they had dropped back into second tier.

Cymburga’s presence in Vienna was a constant reminder that Habsburg power was much diminished, making her extremely unpopular with the family. So, if you look for a reason why she was singled out as the source of the Habsburg Jaw, that may be it. But then again nobody seems to have mentioned it until William Coxe in 1847, and god knows where he got it from.

So, if it definitely was not Cymburga, where did Habsburg Jaw come from then?

Well, there is one figure close to the house of Habsburg that had a confirmed deformation of the jaw, and that was the emperor Sigismund himself. In all his portraits you can see he could not fully close his mouth any more, something people remarked on at the time.

Emperor Sigismund

But there is no link between Sigismund and the surviving branches of the House of Habsburg, neither downstream from him, nor two or three generations before.

Then, maybe it was running in the family already for some time.

We have two depictions of early members of the house of Habsburg that are believed to be genuine portraits. And these are the tomb of King Rudolf I from about 1295, and an oil portrait of Rudolf IV, the founder from the mid-14th century.

Rudolf I

I am not sure I can detect anything on Rudolf I, whilst Rudolf IV does look as if he was a mouth breather. But I am not sure what that is worth.

Rudolf IV

Maybe the explanation is much simpler. The European high aristocracy had settled sometime in the 13th century. Very few new families were able to enter the close circle of intermarried princes. Sure, there were the Italians, the Visconti of Milan, the Medici of Florence and then the Lithuanians and Russians, but most of the rest was basically the same set of cousins twice removed that made up the rather limited gene pool.

What tightened the pool further and may have given rise to their most prominent feature was the constant intermarriage between the Spanish and the Austrian branches during the 16th and 17th century. And why did they constantly intermarry? Did they not know about the impact of inbreeding. Oh sure they knew about this. This is an agricultural society where everyone understands what happens if a herd is left without fresh blood. Leaving aside the strict rules of the church about consanguinity.

But these marriages between often first cousins were a political necessity. Charles V had divided the Habsburg empire into two parts, the Austrian and the Spanish line. To keep the two parts of the empire acting in unison, the Habsburgs needed to renew the familial link at least every second generation, leading to a truly catastrophic level of inbreeding.

Only when Spain was lost to the Bourbons, the need for these intermarriages disappeared and with it the Habsburg Jaw. Maria Theresia had no visible Prognathism, nor had her children, in particular not Marie Antoinette, though French revolutionary propaganda kept adding the feature to her depictions.

Maria Theresia

In other words, the Habsburg jaw was the result of politics, of a fear that the coherence of the family could fall apart. And that fear of a breakup of the family goes back to the times we talk about right now.

Which is what gets us back to Ernst the Iron.

Ernst the Iron was last seen taking over the Tyrol whilst his brother was literally tied up in Konstanz. And when Friedrich re-appeared in 1415, Ernst returned to Styria without making a fuss.

Ernst the Iron

That is quite a remarkable change of pattern. In the years before he had fought his brother Leopold over control of the duchy of Austria proper and had later on conspired with the barons of Tyrol to oust his younger brother. But now, at a time when Friedrich was on more than shaky ground, he did not pounce.

We do not know what had happened to him. He had done a pilgrimage to Jerusalem in 1414 where he was knighted as a member of the order of Holy Sepulchre. As such he had to commit to  a number of religious observances, maybe even the 10 commandments which have this clause about not coveting your neighbour’s house, fields, man and maidservant, or even ass or anything else..

Though I wonder whether the shock of seeing his brother and hence his family kneeling before Sigismund had triggered his change of heart. Had the family been united, Sigismund would have never gotten away with humiliating a senior member of the Habsburgs. Friedrich and Ernst were both powerful princes, and their cousin Albrecht V was equally rich and a very close ally of Sigismund. The fact that neither protested against Friedrich’s ban and its execution, is what made this possible. And when a year later, at least Friedrich and Ernst stood together, Sigismund stood no longer any chance of invading Tyrol.

This entente between the brothers seemed to have continued once the Tyrol was stabilised. And when Ernst died in 1424, his two sons, Friedrich and Albrecht were placed under the guardianship of Friedrich IV. And in turn, when Friedrich IV died, his former ward took over the guardianship of his son 12-year old Sigismund.

So, after all, the kneeling before Sigismund, painful as it certainly was, had a silver lining in as much as it shocked the Habsburgs out of their internecine warfare into finding a way to act more coherently. We are still a long way from the point where they are sacrificing their health and appearance for the sake of family coherence, and this was not yet the last war between brothers, but the understanding had set in, that they can either rule together or be dragged under divided.

One member of the family has taken very much of a back seat in this episode, and that is Ernst and Friedrich’s second cousin, duke Albrecht V of Austria. Now he is the one who will truly restore the fortunes of the family, bringing them back to the top table, ironically courtesy of the man who had just humiliated them. And that is that we will discuss next week, I hope you will join us again. And if you find all of this worth supporting, go to historyofthegermans.com/support, where you can find various options to kee

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Albrecht III&IV, Wilhelm, Leopold IV, Ernst the Iron and Friedrich IV

Success for a princely family in the Late Middle Ages has a lot to do with reproductive luck. Not having any offspring, in particular no male offspring is a bit of a knockout. But having too many sons that could be a major issue too.

And in 1386 the Habsburgs struggled with exactly that problem. Their territory was already divided between an Albertine and a Leopoldine line. But then Leopold had four sons, bringing the number of archdukes of Austria to six, which is five too many.

In this episode we will discuss how they managed to muck it up quite bad, in fact so bad, one of their number had to fall to his knees before the emperor, not once, not twice, but three times…

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Transcript

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 206 – Division, Destruction and Degradation, also episode 4 of the Fall and Rise of the House of Habsburg.

Success for a princely family in the Late Middle Ages has a lot to do with reproductive luck. Not having any offspring, in particular no male offspring is a bit of a knockout. But having too many sons that could be a major issue too.

And in 1386 the Habsburgs struggled with exactly that problem. Their territory was already divided between an Albertine and a Leopoldine line. But then Leopold had four sons, bringing the number of archdukes of Austria to six, which is five too many.

In this episode we will discuss how they managed to muck it up quite bad, in fact so bad, one of their number had to fall to his knees before the emperor, not once, not twice, but three times…

But before we start let me tell you a little bit about my research process. For almost a year now I do most of my research at the London Library. The London Library was founded in 1841 by Thomas Carlyle and counted great luminaries from Charles Darwin to Helena Bonham Carter amongst its members. What makes this place so special is not just its amazing history and the chance to bump into authors one has been admiring for decades, but the way it is organised. The London Library has a collection of books only rivalled by the British Library. But other than the British Library, the books are stacked by topics. So you can go to a section entitled History/Austria, or printing, or even one of history- Sigismund emperor. And that allows me to find books I would have never spotted in a library catalogue. For instance to prepare this episode I did borrow the books on the Habsburgs by Martyn Rady, Andrew Wheatcroft and Jean Berenger, but whilst picking them up, I came across William Coxe’s History of the House of Austria from 1847, that may not cover the latest research but is written so vividly, I borrowed a few phrases from him. Same goes for Hugo Hantsch’s Geschichte Österreichs and an anthology about Oswald von Wolkenstein.   So, if you are based in London and feel like joining a library that has over a million titles at hand and is organised for the needs of writers and creators, not librarians, check it out.

I am afraid membership is not cheap, but that is where some of your generous contributions go. So as I sink into the comfortable leather sofa in the reading room to indulge in William Coxe’s prose, my thanks go to Sven N, Torsten, Raymond F., Patrick M., Pim W., Gerald A. G. who made this happen by signing up at historyofthegermans.com/support.

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And with that, back to the show.

Last week we watched duke Lepold III of Austria sinking into the mud outside Sempach under the incessant blows of the Swiss halberds. There are dozens of battles that mark the end of the dominance of the armoured knight on horseback. And Sempach was one of them. Not the first, but a seminal one.

Leopold had been a seasoned military commander. He had defeated duke Stephan of Lower Bavaria when he was just 17. And since then he had spent his time in the saddle, riding from one conflict to the next. Holiday for him was a trip to Koenigsberg in Prussia to have a go at the Lithuanians. (check episode 133 if you want to hear what these trips were like). For a city militia and the forces of three rural cantons to defeat someone like that in an open battle where Leopold was able to deploy his army of knights and trained infantry as he wished, that was again proof that military tactics had to change.

Infantry was now more important, whilst cavalry, including heavy cavalry, remained an key military tool. So, coordination between these different forces  became the key to success, superseding the individual bravery that had been the most prized military skill up until then.

This transition should have translated into social and political change as well. If co-ordination was the key to success, then a system of clear hierarchies where orders are being followed was required.

Armies with effective chains of command require training, equipment and would ideally fight together as units for an extended period of time. And that costs money, hitherto unimaginable amounts of money. To raise funds on that scale, territories needed to be larger and have a proper administration, in particular tax collection systems. We have seen some princes working hard at establishing all of these things, like the Valois dukes of Burgundy, and be rewarded for it with an ever expanding power base.

But old habits die hard. And one of the old habits that had been engrained in chivalric society, was the idea that even princes would divide their property equally amongst their sons. Forward thinkers, like Rudolf IV and Karl IV had attempted to introduce primogeniture even for princely, as opposed to royal, territories. But in the end, both of them had failed.

By the end of the 14th century, Karl IV’s sons Wenzeslaus and Sigismund were at each other’s throats, ably assisted by their cousins of Moravia and the Bohemian barons. And Rudolf’s brothers, Albrecht III and Leopold III had de facto divided the Habsburg possessions.

And when Leopold III was laid to rest at Koengsfelden, the process of fragmentation of the family territory went up a gear.

Leopold had left four sons – four. The legendary Habsburg fecundity was back on show.

But as we all know, one can have too much of a good thing, and princely sons in an already divided territory can be very much too much of a good thing.

Have you been counting? Let me do that for you. By 1386, we have six Austrian archdukes. There is Albrecht III, called with the Plait, the founder of the so-called Albertine line and his only son, Albrecht IV. Albrecht III was in his prime at 37 years of age. Then we have his nephews, the sons of Leopold III. The eldest, Wilhelm was 16 when his father died, followed by 15 year-old Leopold IV, and the younger two, Ernst 9 and then Friedrich IV, only 6.

Previous generations of Habsburgs had signed family compacts and agreements to deal with exactly  such a situation. The problem was that there were so many of these compacts, and with such different provisions, that  any member of the family could claim more or less anything under one or other of these agreements. The only broad planks enshrined in all of them was that #1 – as a family – they should stick together, #2 that the two eldest male members of the family should direct overall policy and #3 that in case one line dies out, their lands were to go to the remaining members of the family.

Comparisons are always difficult, but the Habsburg at least on paper started with a bit more coherence than the Wittelsbachs, whose decline we have traced in episodes 196 and 197. But let’s see what that was worth in real life.

The two eldest at this point were Albrecht III, the head of the Albertine line and Wilhelm. Wilhelm was Albrecht’s junior by 20 years, so one would expect Albrecht to enjoy at least a few years of largely uncontested rule. A period he could use to consolidate power by pushing through the provisions of the Privilegium Maius.

But that would be a misunderstanding. Albrecht III was a feeble man. Whenever things got a bit dicey, he took refuge in a monastery to seek advice from his saviour. The other one of his obsessions was with the hair a woman. We do no longer know who this woman was, but she clearly meant a lot to him, since he had her tresses braided into his hair, which is why he was known as Albrecht with the Plait. On the positive side, he had a strong interest in science and theology, which came in handy for the university of Vienna that thrived thanks to Albrecht’s support.

Albrecht “with the Plait” and Wilhelm “the Ambitious”

To concentrate on these pursuits, he handed over the management of the duchies to his most trusted courtier, John I of Liechtenstein. Liechtenstein did a reasonable job at maintaining peace and keeping the robber barons down, which is why the rule of Albrecht III is often described as a benign one, in particular compared to what was to come.

In 1395 Liechtenstein was found with his hand in the till once too often and was toppled as de facto prime minister. Devoid of his counsel, the peace-loving Albrecht III found himself drawn into the conflict between his neighbour, King Wenceslaus and his barons. Wenceslaus was at this point still king of the Romans, though his authority in the Reich was almost non-existant. And his control of Bohemia was also slipping, so that he found himself captured and then incarcerated by his barons. The barons transferred Wenceslaus to Austria, to the castle of Wilsberg. Wenceslaus supporters then invaded Austria to free their king, which they managed. But that forced Albrecht III to get involved. Albrecht took the side of the barons against Wenceslaus and mustered an army. But before he could set off, he succumbed to an unknown illness, leaving behind only one son, Albrecht IV, aged 16.

Wilhelm “the Ambitious”
Albrecht IV

With Albrecht III gone, the seniority system flipped. It was now Wilhelm, the eldest of the Leopoldine dukes who took the lead in family politics.

Under the previous regime, Albrecht III’s conciliatory nature and the age gap to Wilhelm meant that things could trundle along nicely. That was no longer the case.

Albrecht IV and Wilhelm were only 9 years apart in age. They were cousins, not uncle and nephew and they held different perspectives on the big political questions of the day.

The Habsburgs had hitched their cart to the Luxemburg bandwagon with Rudolph the Founder’s marriage to Katherina, the daughter of emperor Karl IV. On that occasion, the two families had made a pact that should either of them die out, the other was to inherit all their lands. When Rudolph the Founder had died without offspring, Albrecht III had then married another of Karl IV’s daughters and they renewed the alliance including the clause on inheritance. So it was Luxemburg all the way for the House of Habsburg.

It only became problematic when there was division within the house of Luxemburg. By 1402 the disagreements between the half-brothers Wenceslaus and Sigismund of Luxemburg had reached boiling point. Sigismund had captured Wenzeslaus and had sent him over to his friends and allies, the Habsburg dukes of Austria.

That was a sign of great trust, but also caused some major headaches for our two dukes.

Sure, the dukes had been close to Sigismund, but at least legally, Wenzeslaus was the head of his house and heir to Bohemia and the Luxemburg lands in the empire, territories of huge strategic importance to the Habsburgs. Therefore having king Wenzelaus in custody was a very, very hot potato, or, since potatoes had not yet made it across the Atlantic, a very hot parsnip. Nobody knew how the conflict between the brothers would end and so drawing Wenzeslaus’s wrath was not a good idea.

What exactly then happened, nobody knows. But one night, Wenzeslaus hopped the fence and legged it back to Prague.  Did Albrecht IV let him go, or was it his cousin Wilhelm who had unlocked the cell?  

Albrecht IV at least felt obliged to placate Sigismund by doing something he rarely did, he went to war. In 1404, the two princes were leading an expedition against a rebellious group of barons in Moravia, when they both fell violently ill. Sigismund recovered, Albrecht IV did not. As always there were rumours of poison everywhere…and again, who knows. But as far as Sigismund was concerned, he had more confidence in Albrecht’s loyalty than in Wilhelms. And he transferred this sympathy to Albrecht’s son, Albrecht V, who was just 7 years old at this point.

The question of who amongst the Luxemburg brothers to support was not the only thing Albrecht and Wilhelm had been at odds. Over the previous decades the two lines of the family had tried to find arrangements that balanced the demands of each member of the family to be a real prince with a territory to run and to keep the Habsburg united and hence in the Premier League of princes. Over time the egoistical urges outpaced the willingness to stick together.

When Albrecht IV died, the Habsburg lands were de facto split into three. The core duchy of Austria was held by the Albrechts, Styria, Carinthia and Carniola were now administered by Wilhelm and the Tyrol and the ancestral lands on the upper Rhine were managed by the second eldest brother, Leopold IV.

Wilhelm “the Ambitious”
Leopold IV “the Fat”

Given little Albrecht V was only 7 years old, Wilhelm assumed the guardianship, which would have put him in control of almost the whole lot. This concentration of power was unacceptable to the other three brothers. Which is why Wilhelm had to accept his brother Ernst as co-ruler of his territory and Leopold had to accept the youngest, Friedrich as his partner.

Ernst “the Iron”
Friedrich IV

And that is when things started to go seriously south. The brothers not only did not get on, they also began to pursue different policies. Whilst Albrecht and Wilhelm had been firm supporters of the House of Luxemburg, Leopold sided with Ruprecht of the Palatinate, the archenemy of the Luxemburgs. Ruprecht had been elected king of the Romans after Wenzeslaus of Luxemburg had been deposed for incompetence (episode 165 if you want to know more). Leopold not only gave Ruprecht free passage through the Tyrol, he joined the king’s attempt to journey to Rome, which stalled in Milan. The political unity of the House of Habsburg was broken.

Things got even worse when Wilhelm died in 1406. It was now Leopold IV’s time as senior Habsburg. But whilst in previous arrangements the two joint rulers accepted the seniority of the elder, this was not the case any more. The two younger brothers demanded not just a share of Wilhelm’s lands, but also the guardianship over their cousin twice removed, little Albrecht V. The compromise they arrived at was that the youngest, Friedrich, would be the sole duke in Tyrol and the ancestral lands, whilst Leopold and Ernst would jointly administer Styria, Carinthia and Carniola and act as joint guardians over little Albrecht V. That arrangement was then further altered so that Leopold would administer Austria for Albrecht and Ernst would get Styria. And even that was not clear enough, because Leopold and Ernst began to quarrel over what land was Styria and what was Austria.

The four brothers were a rough lot, ready to raise a sword at the slightest provocation, seeking war and adventure wherever there was an opportunity. They were after all the sons of Leopold III, the martial hero and martyr of the battle of Sempach. But even within that lot, Ernst stood out. He would become known as Ernst “the Iron”. He was brutal and ruthless.

When the disagreement between him and Leopold over Austria and Styria turned violent, he did not hesitate to call on Hungarians and Bavarians to devastate his brother’s lands as well as the lands of his ward, young Albrecht V. Leopold in turn brought in one of the most feared Bohemian mercenary commander to do the same. The chronicler Thomas Ebendorfer bemoaned this upheaval as the worst in living memory, a timequote ”where the sons were forced to rob their fathers”. Ernst became known as the “tiny robber with the giant beard”. Things came to a temporary halt when their neighbour, the then not yet emperor Sigismund intervened. In 1409 he decreed that the brothers should cease hostilities and share the revenues of their lands and that of little Albrecht equally. And he set out that the guardianship should end on Albrecht’s 14th birthday, aka by 1411.

By that point the Habsburg rule was in a very sorry state. The land has been devastated by the foreign armies the two brothers had called into Austria. But there had also been structural changes.

Some of the lords who had been vassals of the dukes of Austria were wiggling out of their subordination. Amongst them were the counts of Cilli, the family of Sigismund’s wife Barbara, whose life we looked at in episode 184.

Even more significantly, the ducal estates were taking more and more control of the finances and political direction. Each of the main territories, Austria, Styria, Carinthia, Carniola and the Tyrol had a body representing the subjects, the estates. These consisted usually of three and sometimes four orders, the clergy, the nobles and the cities. In some places the nobles were divided into two, the rich barons and the gentry. The latter was a feature quite common in central Europe where the feudal system as we know it in the west, had only been imported quite late and had been overlaid over existing structures.

What would also often happen was that the voting pattern worked along economic lines rather than by estate. So the barons, abbots and bishops would act together whilst gentry, cities and lower clergy would be another unified block.

The estates could not assemble at will, but had to be called by the duke. That tended to happen when the duke was running out of cash and he wanted to raise taxes. Tax raising authority was not formally given to the estates, but from a purely practical point of view it was more effective when the taxed subjects had agreed to pay. As time went by, and demands for cash mounted, the estates were called more and more often until in many places the diet met once every year. And during times when a duchy was ruled by a minor, the estates often assembled to protect the rights of their lord against his guardians.

Alongside the regular assemblies, the estates also established their own administration. This dealt predominantly with taxation matters, apportioning the obligations amongst the different orders. Building from there they took an ever larger role in the administration of the state, for instance managing the courts. They built their own palaces, the Landhaus, often splendid buildings in the centre of town. In Vienna it is placed next to the Hofburg and in Graz the Landhaus is a spectacular affair with one of central Europe’s most impressive Renaissance courtyards and attached to it is the Landeszeughaus, the armoury of the duchy that contains 32,000 pieces of arms and armour.

These representative bodies would become an important restraint on the power of the Habsburg emperors. They existed all through to 1848 not just in Austria but also in Hungary and for a crucial time, in Bohemia.

In 1411, the two quarrelling brothers, Leopold and Ernst, will get more than a glimpse of the power of these ducal assemblies.

Albrecht V, the sole heir to the Albertine line had finally reached his 14th year and as per Sigismund’s  ruling was to be declared an adult and given control of the duchy of Austria. Though Ernst and Leopold were constantly at each other’s throat, they agreed on one thing and one thing only, that Albrecht should remain a minor for as long as humanly possible. Because as long as that was the case, they, Ernst and Leopold would receive the revenues from the duchy, not the no longer little Albrecht V. So they blocked and tackled, and blocked, and tackled.

The estates of Austria got increasingly irate about this selfish behaviour. And even more importantly, they wanted to prevent another war between the brothers that would  decimate their home. So they applied an unusual method. Several members of the diet went to see Albrecht at the castle where he was living. They convinced him to leave and rode to Eggenburg where the diet declared him an adult and swore him allegiance. When Leopold and Ernst heard about the – as they called it , kidnapping, they got into such a rage, that Leopold, known as the Fat, had his long overdue coronary. And when the second oldest brother hit the floor with a massive thud, Albrecht V became the duke of Austria for real.

Albrecht V

We will talk a whole lot more about Albrecht V in next week’s episode.

The time we have left today will be dedicated to the ingenious way in which the youngest of the brothers, Friedrich IV managed to sink the house of Habsburg even further.

Friedrich was in charge of the Tyrol and the ancestral lands on the upper Rhine. Following the battle of Sempach, the Habsburgs had lost significant territory in German speaking Switzerland, but Albrecht IV, Leopold IV and now Friedrich IV had managed to stabilise the situation, and even regaining some of the lost ground. Albrecht IV, or more accurately, his wife Mechthild of the Palatinate, even had time to found the University of Freiburg, my Alma mater.

And the legendary silver mines in Schwaz in Tyrol had begun operations. So for all intents and purposes, Friedrich IV should have been able to live the joyful life of a noble prince, hunting and shooting all day.

But not so our friend Friedrich. Friedrich had developed an appetite for high politics, in particular Italian politics. The Tyrol included what is now South Tyrol, or Alto Adige, meaning their southern neighbours were the duke of Milan and the Republic of Venice. And that is where he started to get into conflict with Sigismund. Their disagreements were mainly political rather than personal. In 1409 Sigismund had again confirmed the Erbverbrüderung, the commitment that either family would inherit the other’s territories should they die out. And that could at least theoretically include Friedrich IV.

That being said, the political differences between Friedrich and Sigismund kept mounting, in particular when  Friedrich linked up with Venice, one of Sigismund’s arch enemies. In 1413 Sigismund explored options for the Swiss Confederation to attack Friedrich, which they did refuse.

In 1414 the  emperor Sigismund called the great church Council of Constance to bring an end to the schism that had resulted in three competing popes. Episodes 171 to 174 if you want to get the full picture.

Of the three competing popes, only one, Pope John XXIII, was travelling across the Alps to be present at the largest gathering of the church in the Middle Ages. He travelled via the Tyrol where Friedrich IV was more than excited to meet the pope, who wouldn’t be. The two men got on extremely well and Pope John made Friedrich the commander of the papal army with a stipend of 6,000 ducats. This papal army was however BYO, bring your own. Friedrich gathered 500 lances and accompanied the pope to Constance, promising him safety and security.

Once Sigismund arrived in Constance and saw the papal bodyguard, he leant on Friedrich to disband his troops. After all, a pope with a small army was a lot harder to depose than one without.

Which is what was about to happen. Pope John XXIII had hoped that the council would make him the one and only pope, and depose his two rivals. But he was finding out quite quickly that the mood went a very different way. The council was planning to depose all the popes, including him.

In his predicament the pontiff decided to flee. If he left Constance, so he thought, the council would no longer be legitimate, and he could remain pope. And to organise his escape he relied on the commander of his armies, Friedrich IV of the Tyrol.

Friedrich organised a tournament – it seems every time something bad happens to the Habsburgs, it has something to do with tournaments –  anyway. Friedrich organised a tournament and everybody came. Well except for pope John XXIII, who pointed to the papal ban on tournaments that had been formally in place for centuries by now and had now been ignored for centuries.

So whilst everybody was watching grown man knocking each other unconscious for sport, John snuck out of the city and sought refuge in one of Friedrich’s castles. Friedrich too skipped town once the tournament was over and before anyone had noticed the missing pope. That happened on March 20th, 1415. On March 22nd, Sigismund accused Friedrich of treason against church and empire. Another week later, without observing the usual 45 day grace period, Friedrich was put in the imperial ban and declared an outlaw. The council excommunicated him as well.

Now anyone could kill Friedrich or occupy his lands without sanction. And to make this a reality, Sigismund declared all of Friedrich’s lands vacant fiefs and promised to grant them to anyone who could seize them.

Friedrich was completely stunned by this reaction. He had gone to Freiburg im Breisgau, waiting for the collapse of the council and the rewards from his papal benefactor/hostage.  

Instead he receives news that Zurich and Berne were sending troops into the Aargau, that the Count Palatine had taken his lands in Alsace, that Vorarlberg had fallen to his enemies and  that Sigismund’s agitators were working on the estates of Tyrol to throw him out. Against such an onslaught his spread out forces stood no chance. The mighty fortress of Baden in Switzerland fell, and then the Habsburg itself was occupied by the city of Berne.

Let me at this point hand over to William Coxe who described the scene in his inimitable 19th century fashion as follows:

Friedrich quote “sunk under his multiplied disasters, and, refusing to listen to the exhortations of the pope and of his adherents, or to the voice of honour, yielded to the pusillanimous advice of Louie duke of Bavaria, and consented to deliver up the pope, and submit himself to the mercy of Sigismond.

No prince of the empire ever submitted to such indignities, or experienced such degradations, as Frederic. To grace and witness his triumph, Sigismond summoned the most considerable princes of the empire, and the ambassadors from the Italian states, with the chief fathers of the council, into the refectory of the Franciscan convent at Constance. The emperor, having seated himself on his throne, Frederic, accompanied by his nephew the burgrave of Nuremberg, and by his brother-in-law Louis of Bavaria, entered the apartment, and thrice prostrated himself. The eyes of the whole assembly were fixed on the unfortunate prince, and a dead silence prevailed, till Sigismond demanded, “What is your desire ?”

The burgrave replied, “ Most mighty king, this is duke Frederic of Austris, my uncle ; at his desire I implore your royal pardon, and that of the council, for his offences against you and the church , he surrenders himself and all his possessions to your mercy and pleasure, and offers to bring back the pope to Constance, on condition that his person and property shall remain inviolate.” The emperor, raising his voice, asked, “ Duke Frederic, do you engage to fulfil these promises ?” and the duke, in faltering accents, answered, “I do, and humbly implore your royal mercy.” At this reply a sensation of pity spread through the whole assembly; even Sigismond himself seemed to be affected, and said, “I am concerned that he has been guilty of such misdemeanours.” Frederic took the oath, by which he surrendered to Sigismond all his territories, from the Tyrol to the Breisgau, submitting to hold as a favour what the emperor should please to restore, and yielded himself as an hostage for the fulfilment of the conditions. Sigismond then took him by the hand, and concluded the ceremony by observing to the Italian prelates, “ You well know, reverend fathers, the power and consequence of the dukes of Austria ; learn, by this example, what a king of the Germans can accomplish.” End quote

As Coxe said, such elaborate humiliations were rare, in particular of a prince whose family had already furnished 2 plus one king of the Romans and not long ago had been on par with the House of Luxemburg. It was meant to demonstrate the power that Sigismund had garnered through his management of the Council of Constance, and may well be the high water mark of his political power.

At the end of this process, Friedrich had become effectively landless. All territory that wasn’t occupied by his enemies was now Sigismund’s direct possession. Alsace was gone, several towns were raised to cities and given immediacy, the Swiss cantons were confirmed in their possession of the lands south of the rhine, including the Habsburg and Baden. His subjects had sworn allegiance to the Luxemburger, except for one – the Tyrolians. The estates of Tyrol did not want to become part of a Luxemburg empire, or worse, be enfeoffed to a Bavarian duke. Instead they called on Friedrich’s brother, duke Ernst the Iron, to come and lead the resistance.

It was at this point that this once richest imperial prince, owner of the largest silver mine in Europe, became known as Friedrich with the Empty Pocket.

Given the family history I am unsure whose ambitions Friedrich feared more, Sigismund and his allies, or his brother’s…but he needed to act to protect his lands. So he fled from Constance, breaking his solemn oath. He was put back into the imperial ban. Sigismund called on his princes to muster an army to execute his ban.

I think this is where we are going to leave it for now. Friedrich IV, Count of Tyrol, prince of the house of Habsburg, kneeling before Sigismund of Luxemburg. The ancestral castle of the Hawk occupied by townsfolk from Berne and lost for ever.

Surprising as this sounds, this is still not the low point for the family. Friedrich will find his boulder to climb back up on to fight another day. Ernst the Iron will do unironic things and Albrecht V, well, he is set for greater things. And all that so they can tumble down again.

Something to look forward to next week. I hope you will join us again.

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The beginnings of the Swiss Confederation

“They had grown somewhat thoughtful; then without warning it began again, horrible, as though the thing had sprouted wings and was riding toward them on the backs of fiery monsters, flaming and shrieking, a long, drawn-out cry: Here we come! It truly seemed as if an underworld were suddenly seized with the desire to break out through the hard earth. The sound was like a black, gaping abyss, and the sun now appeared to be shining from a darkened sky, glaring down more dazzling than ever, but as through from a hell, not the heavens.

The rushing crowd, apparently full of passion, drew closer. And the knights stood their ground; suddenly they seemed fused together. Iron men held out their lances; . . . lance upon lance stuck out so mindlessly, firm and unyielding–just the thing, you might think, for such an impetuous, raging human breast to impale itself on. Here, an idiotic wall of spikes; there, people half-covered with shirts. Here, the art of war, the most prejudiced there is; there, people seized with helpless rage.

There’ll never be anything to equal the battering with which these light mountain and valley men, driven and elevated by their fury, now battered their way into the clumsy, despicable wall, smashing and ripping it apart like tigers ripping apart a defenceless herd of cows. . . . Those on horseback were flung down like cardboard, with a crack like that of a paper bag blown up and burst between one’s hands. . . . Heads were scuffed by blows, appeared only grazed, yet proved to be bashed in. Blow followed blow, horses were knocked down, the fighting grew more and more frenzied, more violent, the duke was slain; it would have been a miracle had he not been. Those striking accompanied their blows with shrieks, as though these were only right, as though killing alone was not enough, a mere half-measure. End quote

That is how the Swiss writer Robert Walser described the battle of Sempach on July 9th, 1386, the battle that broke Habsburg power in their ancient homeland and paved the way for Switzerland to come together.

What we will do in this episode is look at how it came to pass that an army of Swiss militia defeated Archduke Leopold III, one of the most accomplished military men of his time, a man willing to make his knights fight on foot, with lances, rather than run mindlessly into a wall of arrows, and how he still lost.

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Transcript

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 205 – Sempach – the death of a Duke and the Birth of a Nation, also episode 3 of Season 11 – The Fall and Rise of the House of Habsburg.

“They had grown somewhat thoughtful; then without warning it began again, horrible, as though the thing had sprouted wings and was riding toward them on the backs of fiery monsters, flaming and shrieking, a long, drawn-out cry: Here we come! It truly seemed as if an underworld were suddenly seized with the desire to break out through the hard earth. The sound was like a black, gaping abyss, and the sun now appeared to be shining from a darkened sky, glaring down more dazzling than ever, but as through from a hell, not the heavens.

The rushing crowd, apparently full of passion, drew closer. And the knights stood their ground; suddenly they seemed fused together. Iron men held out their lances; . . . lance upon lance stuck out so mindlessly, firm and unyielding–just the thing, you might think, for such an impetuous, raging human breast to impale itself on. Here, an idiotic wall of spikes; there, people half-covered with shirts. Here, the art of war, the most prejudiced there is; there, people seized with helpless rage.

There’ll never be anything to equal the battering with which these light mountain and valley men, driven and elevated by their fury, now battered their way into the clumsy, despicable wall, smashing and ripping it apart like tigers ripping apart a defenceless herd of cows. . . . Those on horseback were flung down like cardboard, with a crack like that of a paper bag blown up and burst between one’s hands. . . . Heads were scuffed by blows, appeared only grazed, yet proved to be bashed in. Blow followed blow, horses were knocked down, the fighting grew more and more frenzied, more violent, the duke was slain; it would have been a miracle had he not been. Those striking accompanied their blows with shrieks, as though these were only right, as though killing alone was not enough, a mere half-measure. End quote

That is how the Swiss writer Robert Walser described the battle of Sempach on July 9th, 1386, the battle that broke Habsburg power in their ancient homeland and paved the way for Switzerland to come together.

What we will do in this episode is look at how it came to pass that an army of Swiss militia defeated Archduke Leopold III, one of the most accomplished military men of his time, a man willing to make his knights fight on foot, with lances, rather than run mindlessly into a wall of arrows, and how he still lost.

But before we start a quick reminder that this show is advertising free. No really, you will not hear me singing the praises of some product carefully curated for just your specific needs, or more likely not useful to you at all. Such luxury is ultimately a function of the generosity of a small but much appreciated band of patrons who have signed up on historyofthegermans.com/support.

This week our special thanks go to Chris O., Alexi G., the always supportive Mike F., Walter E., Stewart Walker, Sergey S. and Simona who have already signed up.

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And with that, back to the show.

This season is entitled the Fall and Rise of the House of Habsburg. And since here the fall comes before the rise, it is the fall that we start with. If one tries to understand why the Habsburgs were able to keep a multicultural and multilingual empire together for 400 years, an empire that had not one but two capitals in Vienna and Madrid plus several smaller centres in Naples, Milan, Prague, Budapest and Brussels. An empire that at its height, spanned the globe and surrounded its greatest rival, the kingdom of France.

And all that these disparate territories, from Lima to Lwow had in common was not one individual king or emperor but the unflinching grip of a family that ruled them well into the 19th century when nationalist movement had long declared their existence obsolete.

To understand what made the Habsburg capable of such an unprecedented feat, it may help to understand the 150 years they spent in the wilderness, far from thrones and the vertiginous heights of European policy.

When we talk about the fall of empires and dynasties, it is very rarely a case of wile-e-coyote speeding over the cliff and crashing down. Great power blocks do not collapse straight into insignificance, they skid down the mountainside, occasionally grabbing hold of a boulder to rise up for a moment, before the next avalanche dislodges them again, until after decades or generations and after innumerable attempts at stabilisation, they hit rock bottom. We will see when rock bottom is for the Habsburgs, my best guess at this stage of my research is 1471, when Friedrich III sees his duchy of Austria overrun by his enemies and has to seek refuge in the empire, an empire that had largely forgotten about him and that he had not visited for 28 long years.

We have already watched the Habsburgs losing their footing for the first time, when king Albrecht I was murdered by his nephew John Parricida. One moment they were en-route to become the de facto hereditary rulers of the Holy Roman Empire and the next, they were just another ambitious family in the game of musical chairs that were the imperial elections in the 14th century. But they were still one of the most powerful of these families. In season 8 when we talked about the period between the Interregnum and the Golden Bull, I described it as a three-body problem where the Luxemburgs, the Habsburgs and the Wittelsbachs were roughly of equal power and influence, constantly ganging up two against one.

But that three-body problem went away with the rise of Karl IV to the imperial throne and his ruthless expansion of the Luxemburg powerbase from Bohemia westwards into Brandenburg and the Upper Palatinate whilst collecting options on Hungary and Poland. Neither Habsburg nor Wittelsbach could compete with that any longer.

A further relegation was the exclusion of the Habsburgs from the Seven Electors in the Golden Bull of 1356. Much has been made of this, though it is important to remember that neither the dukes of Austria nor the counts of Habsburgp had ever been part of the college of electors that had formed since around 1273. So not adding them was maybe not that much of a snub as it might look. Still we know that Rudolf the founder, the head of the family in 1356 took umbrage and forged the Privilegium Maius that claimed and – thanks to confirmation by the emperor – established a unique rank for the Habsburgs as Archdukes with wide ranging privileges in their own lands, privileges that made them more like kings then feudal vassals.

So, when Rudolf IV passed away prematurely in 1365, the House of Habsburg was certainly not what it was in 1308, but by no means down and out. They were a major force in the empire, holders of most august titles and – most importantly – united. They ruled Austria, Styria, Carinthia, Carniola, the Tyrol and their ancestral lands along both shores of the upper Rhine from Schaffhausen to north of Freiburg im Breisgau as well as much of German speaking Switzerland.

Rudolf’s death had come at an inopportune moment. He had been just 27 years old and his marriage to the daughter of emperor Karl IV had remained childless. Hence the duchy went to his brothers, Albrecht, aged 16 and Leopold, aged 14 at the time. The Wittelsbachs used this to make a bid for the Tyrol they had ruled until fairly recently. But the brothers defeated duke Stephen of Lower Bavaria and Tyrol stayed in the family.

Between the brothers a clear division of responsibilities emerged. Albrecht, called “with the plaid” was the elder and interested in administration and finance. Leopold was the military man. So, it was Leopold, the younger one, who achieved the victory in Tyrol at the ripe old age of 17.

Albrecht (with the Plaid)

Such a division of responsibilities could be a recipe for astonishing success, think Augustus and Agrippa or Bismarck and von Moltke (the elder). But it did not work that well in this case. Leopold believed his military prowess demanded a higher status than that of junior co-ruler.

Leopold III

So, contrary to the clear provisions left by Rudolf the Founder and his predecessors, Albrecht and Leopold agreed to divide up the Habsburg lands. Leopold received the periphery, that means Carinthia, Carniola, bits of Frioul as well as the Tyrol and the ancestral lands along the Upper Rhine. Albrecht took Austria and Styria. Still, the break was not designed to be permanent. The brothers swore to act in unison. Every member of the family was allowed to use all the family titles, including that of archduke and in case one branch died out, the other would inherit their lands before any other claimant.

Whilst Albrecht focused on consolidating his power over Austria and Styria, Leopold went off conquering. And he was moderately successful, expanding in two directions. He moved southwards and acquired Trieste. The city actually submitted voluntarily to his rule in order to get rid of the oppressive Venetians. Trieste gave the Habsburgs access to the sea and became the homeport of the Austrian navy – seriously, such a thing existed.

But his main objective was to build a connection between the two main Habsburg possessions, Austria in the East and the Swabian ancestral lands in the West. One important first step had been done by his brother Rudolf who had established a hold over Tyrol.

The next important acquisition was the county of Feldkirch, better known as Vorarlberg, an important road connection to lake Constance before it became a vehicle to extract large sums of money from thrill-seeking German and English skiers. Given Salzburg too had come under indirect Austrian rule as per the Privilegium Maius, the Habsburgs now possessed a land bridge all the way from Vienna to the eastern shore of Lake Constance. And with their Ancestral lands starting around the western shore of the lake, the grand strategic objective of a contiguous territory was within reach.

All that was needed to be brought in now were the lands south of Lake Constance and the left bank of the Rhine. And to save you scrambling for a map, let me tell you what the land south of lake Constance and the left bank of the Rhine is called today: The Swiss Confederation.

In 1379 when Leopold was put in charge the Habsburgs already had extensive possessions in this region. After all, the family had come from the Aargau near Brugg in the first place. They had replaced the former major players in the region, the Kyburgs and Zaehringer, they held castles and advocacies all throughout these lands. There were two free imperial cities here, Zurich and Berne, but even within those, the family had certain rights and supporters.

But recent generations of the family had let things slip. They had lost the position as imperial reeve over the cantons of Uri, Schwyz and Nidwalden. The defeat of an Austrian force at Morgarten in 1315 had further undermined their position. The cities, including Lucerne and Zug which they owned outright were less and less willing to yield to the Habsburg administrators’ demands.

Our man, archduke Leopold’s job was hence to defend the existing rights and reclaim those lost in the previous decades. And that meant specifically to take charge of the main cities in the region, Zurich, Basel, Lucerne, Solothurn and maybe even the mighty Berne. Each of these cities had a faction that supported the Habsburgs, usually made up of the long-distance traders who believed a mighty lord was better able to ensure the safety of the roads and the Alpine passes.

As one can imagine, Leopold’s expansionist policy did not remain unopposed. To understand this opposition, we have to take a closer look at this thing that would become known as the Swiss Confederation.

And I am afraid much, if not all the stories about the founding of the Swiss confederation are made up. Wilhelm Tell, did not exist, the Rütlischwur, did not take place, at least not in the way and at the time it is usually reported, the Bundesbrief may be a backdated, Arnold von Winkelried, also not a real person.

I personally think this is a pity. I would have loved to go on about

“One people will we be, — a band of brothers;
No danger, no distress shall sunder us.
We will be free men as our fathers were,
And sooner welcome death than live as slaves.
We will rely on God‘s almighty arm,
And never quail before the power of man.”

And to then go on to “Through this narrow pass he must come”.

But sadly, every single history of Switzerland I have read is adamant, that none of this ever happened. But that does not mean that the emergence of the Swiss confederation, which very much does exist, is not a great story. Only that the crucial moments weren’t 1291 or 1315, but 1386 and 1393.

But I am racing ahead.

We did already have a brief look into the beginnings of the Swiss confederation in episode 150 – Morgarten and Mühldorf” but let me just briefly recap.

When the Gotthard pass opened up in the 13th century, life for the people living in the alpine valleys on both sides of the pass changed fundamentally. Having been a forgotten land of subsistence farmers and herders, far from the centres of commerce and politics, they found themselves suddenly in close communication with Italy and southern Germany.

Recognising the strategic importance of the new route, the emperor Frederick II granted the lands immediately to the north of the pass, the cantons of Schwyz and Uri, possibly also Nidwalden, immediacy. In other words, these lands became part of the imperial demesne and were administrated by an imperial governor, a Vogt in German. This Vogt was initially a member of the House of Habsburg.

The inhabitants of these cantons were in the main peasants. There was a local aristocracy, though less numerous than in other parts of the empire. Village communities were close knit and enjoyed a high degree of autonomy due to the specific conditions of life in the mountains. This hostile environment required building paths and bridges, maintaining forests to protect against avalanches and required holding a food reserve for the harsh winters. All this was provided by the local community, not by a feudal lord.

Once the pass became a major thoroughfare, the locals found additional sources of income in transporting wares across and offering hospitality to travellers. And they were introduced to lucrative job opportunities far away.

Travellers told them about the incessant wars between the cities and lords in Northern Italy, wars that were fought mainly by hired mercenaries. The great condottiere were constantly on the lookout for sturdy young men, willing to have a go at anyone they told them to hack at. And these men from the alpine valleys were ideal for the job. They were used to physical exertion and violence, like almost everyone in the Late Middle Ages. But what made them so great was that they had no allegiance to any of the parties involved in the wars in Northern Italy. They did not care particularly for any of the cities; they had no link to the emperor and not even worry much about the pope and his excommunications.

The historian Volker Reinhard places the beginnings of the Swiss Confederation into this context. According to him the first compact amongst the tree cantons, the Bundesbrief of 1291 was actually produced 20 years later in 1308, and it wasn’t initiated by the people of the cantons, but by the emperor and his Vogt.

The key event according to him was the journey of emperor Henry VII to Rome. Henry VII was keen to have access to the famous fighting men from the mountains to cut his way south. Which is why he appointed one of his generals, Wernher von Homberg as imperial reeve for the three cantons. Von Homberg did indeed exist and was one of the Condottiere who made their living in the perennial Italian wars. Reinhard then goes on to say that Homberg was interested in a permanent arrangement between the three territories that would make it easier him to raise large contingents of soldiers. He therefore not only allowed them to draft the Bundesbrief but actually encouraged it. And as we heard last week, forging and predating documents was commonplace at the time. So, it is quite possible that they changed the date of the agreement in order to give the document added weight and credibility.

Werner von Homberg

Irrespective of when and why the arrangement was made, it is apparent that from the 14th century onwards the three cantons coordinated their actions and entered into further alliances jointly.

This alliance was first tested when a Habsburg army came up to the valleys to avenge an attack of the men of Schwyz against the Abbey of Einsiedeln. The Habsburg expeditionary force found itself defeated at the battle of Morgarten in 1315. This was certainly a crucial event in as much as a chivalric army of knights was beaten by a force that comprised mostly of peasants. What made this possible was in large part the topography, as the armoured riders travelled along a narrow road along a lake whilst the Swiss threw rocks and logs at them from the cliffs above. It is also possible that they used halberds for the first time, a weapon that would become a very effective tool to dislodge and then incapacitate armoured riders.

Battle of Morgarten

In the years after Morgarten, the Habsburgs were preoccupied with their war against Ludwig the Bavarian over the succession in the empire, leaving little room for revenge against these rebellious mountain people.

By the old notion that my enemy’s enemy is my friend, Ludwig the Bavarian supported the three cantons against the Habsburgs. He showered them lavishly with all sorts of freedoms, and, crucially, when their reeve, Wernher von Homberg died, Ludwig did not appoint a new reeve. As a consequence, the three cantons became de facto free to organise themselves as they wished with only the emperor as their overlord. And so, they did. They gradually removed what existed in terms of noble privileges and dues, so that by 1380 these three cantons consisted almost entirely of free men and women.

But the cantons weren’t really in anyone’s focus, unless one was trying to recruit soldiers. Where the Habsburgs and in particular duke Leopold III spent their energy was in the cities. These were a lot richer and a lot easier to control than the wild men and women of the valleys.

The Swiss cities differed in structure quite considerably from the cities in the other parts of the empire. As we discussed in episode 160 “the Golden Bull of 1356”, one of the basic rules of the Holy Roman Empire was that the cities were banned from inviting local lords to become citizens. The point of this prohibition was to stop cities from acquiring large territories. This is what had happened in Northern Italy in the 11th and 12th century and had made the communes powerful enough to defy and ultimately defeat the emperors.

The way these Italian cities had acquired their territories, the Contado, was by co-opting the local lords as citizens. The lord would hand over political control of his lands and in exchange was given a position on the city council, whilst keeping the income from his estates.

The Swiss cities defied the ban on co-opting local lords, the so-called Pfahlbürger. Which is how in particular Bern and Zurich could become veritable city states with territories that rivalled many principalities.

We should not believe though that this process was all polite and gentlemanly. It wasn’t quite the case that the city council would send a gold-rimmed invitation card to the local knight who would be so delighted, he immediately signed up. What preceded these takeovers was either that the local lord had run out of cash and had pawned his castle to the city, or the city had marched its militia before the castle gates.

These city militias were often well equipped and well trained. In 1375 the French lord Enguerrand de Coucy, the key protagonist in Barbara Tuchmann’s Distant Mirror, led a strong force of hardened French and Gascon mercenaries into the territory of the city of Berne. On Christmas day the city militia attacked them and slaughtered 800 of these veterans of the Hundred Year’s war. These city armies were not to be underestimated.

Guglerkrieg – the berne militia destroys the army of Enguerrand de Coucy

And these militias existed not only in the free Imperial cities of Bern and Zurich. Even those who were not, like Lucerne, Fribourg, and Solothurn embarked on a similar expansion policy and established sizeable military forces.

This expansion policy brought them into conflict with a) the powerful families of the region, in particular the Habsburgs and, on their western flank, the counts of Savoy, and, b) the nobles of Swabia who had formed associations to push back against the threat of being slowly but surely dragged under by the cities.

As we go through the 14th century these two developments, the expansion of the cities at the expense of the Habsburgs and the Habsburg efforts to connect their lands into one contiguous territory from Vienna to Basel headed for an inevitable clash.

It could have kicked off already at the Basel’s Ugly carnival of 1376. Basel lies exactly at one of the connection points between the Habsburg territories in Alsace, Breisgau and Switzerland. Hence one of Leopold’s objectives was to extend his control of the city. In that he had to deal with the opposition not just of the city council, but also of the bishop of Basel.

The bishop was comparatively easy, as he was broke and so Leopold was able to buy him out. Through this arrangement he acquired Kleinbasel, the part of the city on the opposite side of the river. In February 1376 Leopold invited his noble friends to Basel for a grand tournament. And since he needed the space, he demanded to use the main square in the city itself. The council, which comprised a large pro-Habsburg faction, permitted the tournament to go ahead.

But things went pear shaped quite quickly. The tournament took place as part of the carnival celebrations. Carnival for those who are not familiar is the massive party that takes place in catholic countries on the last few days before lent. Given the prospect of 40 days of restricted food choices and moderation in alcohol, carnival tends to be an exceedingly debauched affair. This is a medieval carnival, not carnival in Venice with masks and baroque music, or Brasilian Samba floats. This is – depending on stamina – a four-to-six-day bacchanal of drinking, dancing, mor drinking, more dancing, and – should there still be some energy left – doing some naughty stuff.

It isn’t hard to imagine what happened when a drunk crowd is confronted with dukes and knights prancing about on their horses in the market square as if they owned it. The mob stormed the enclosures and the drinking halls of the nobles. Duke Leopold barely escaped on a barge across the river and many of his guests were apprehended and locked up in the city hall for their protection. Still dozens of knights and their retainers lay dead.

The city council blamed the whole incident on bridge and tunnel people and hanged two of them to show its contrition. Nevertheless, duke Leopold procured an imperial ban over the city, which he then leveraged into a full takeover of the place.

In the meantime, the cities and the cantons had moved ever closer together in order to protect themselves against external forces, namely Leopold, but also the counts of Savoy. Ever since Morgarten, the different cities and cantons have signed agreements and alliances. This again, is nothing unusual. Similar things happened amongst the cities and territorial princes of southern Germany as well.

In 1370, one of these arrangements, the so-called Pfaffenbrief, took on a different quality. In it the three cantons, Uri, Schwyz and Nidwalden as well as the cities of Zurich, Lucerne, and Zug agreed a permanent alliance that was to bind them above and beyond other existing obligations. Previous arrangements had always been made for a fixed period and subject to pre-existing third party arrangement. Under the Pfaffenbrief, Lucerne, which was nominally a Habsburg city, shed its obligations to the Austrians in their entirety and instead aligned the exercise of political power with the other signatories.

This was a new type of arrangement. It was permanent and it took priority over all other agreements. Its participants were no longer just allies, but small c confederates. The Swiss constitutional lawyers regard this document as the foundational step towards the Swiss Confederation.

Surprisingly the Habsburgs did not react to this move. They had lost control of Lucerne and also Zug, where their position had been stronger, but still, they did not budge. That was in part due to the death of Rudolf the Founder in 1365 and the subsequent wars over the Tyrol and the squabbling between the brothers.

When these conflicts had been resolved It became time for Leopold III to bring this conflict to a resolution. Basel had been a major success which he followed up in the early 1380s with the acquisition of two counties near Berne.

It was now clear to everyone where this train was heading. In response Berne, Solothurn, Zurich and Zug entered into an alliance of the traditional temporary and limited kind with a number of southern German cities, promising each other support in case of attack. Leopold in turn firmed up his links with the Swabian nobility on both banks of the Rhine.

The signing of the Konstance accord with the German cities encouraged the Swiss to strike first. Zurich attacked Rappertswil, Zug the city of St. Andreas. Lucerne co-opted the city of Sempach. All of these had been Habsburg possessions.  Now the war was on.

Leopold III called upon all his vassals, from Tyrol, from Alsace and the Breisgau, he wrote to his allies, the knightly associations in Swabia and the Alps and hired crossbowmen from Italy and Flanders. They were all to gather in his city of Brugg in the shadow of the ancient family home, the Habichtsburg. As always numbers are unreliable, but the most likely figure is about 3,000 men, all rearing to teach these peasants and townsfolk a lesson they should never forget.

The first town to be educated in the ways of the feudal world, was Lucerne.

Lucerne immediately called on the men of Uri, Schwyz and Nidwalden to come to their aid. Which they did. It seems the other cities who had signed the recent alliance did not appear on the battlefield, or in the case of the German cities, only as observers and mitigators.

There are two ways to describe the battle that followed. The first one is from the contemporary sources. These say that a battle had taken place and note who won. That, I am afraid is not suitable podcast material.

Therefore, here comes the more entertaining, but maybe less accurate version:

Once Leopold had spotted the enemy in an open field near the town of Sempach, he asked the gros of his knights to dismount and form a strong square, protected by a wall of lances. Within the square the crossbowmen were to release their bolts into the mass of enemies. Meanwhile two detachments of heavy cavalry positioned themselves on the flanks and, once the enemy had engaged the centre, were to attack the Swiss from the sides. Dismounting the knights and integrating infantry into the strategy was a major move away from the gung-ho approach at Crecy, Poitiers and Mühldorf. But then the Habsburgs owed much of their success to their willingness to bend the rules of chivalry when necessary. Plus, this was a tactic that had led French forces to victory over another army of townspeople, those of Flanders, just four years earlier.

And initially the plan worked. The Swiss fierce attacks of the Habsburg line ran again and again into the unyielding wall of lances. And out of the square the crossbowmen sent their deadly bolts into the lightly armoured forces of Lucerne and his allies. The story goes that when wave after wave had been broken by the Habsburg resolve, a bear of a man stepped forward, Arnold von Winkelried.  Entrusting his wife and children to his comrades he rushes forward and grabbed a dozen or more of the enemy spikes, impaling himself. And as he fell, so did the spears buried in his chest. Over the hero’s body stepped his comrades, cutting deep in the duke’s phalanx.

Their line broken, the square formation fell apart. The Habsburg lion went down with his standard-bearer. Duke Leopold who had been in the centre of the square seized the flag from the dying hand of his vassal to once more rally his troops, but it was too late. His forces turning, he was offered the opportunity to flee, but refused uttering: “shall I, Leopold, look on from afar as my brave knights fight and die. Here in my country, and with my people, I will either conquer or perish”. His dead body was found the next morning, together with 400 noble knights whose names the victors carefully recorded on the walls of a chapel they erected over the battlefield.

Whether or not this was the way it unfolded, we will never know. The earliest detailed descriptions of the battle date from 1480, almost a century later. Arnold von Winkelried existence is even less likely, since his deed bears suspicious resemblance to much older Germanic folktales and a man of this name appeared in the 16th century as a hero of the Swiss guards.

But what is fact is that the forces of Lucerne, Uri, Schwyz and Nidwalden defeated the army of duke Leopold of Austria, and devastatingly so. In its wake the nobility in the south was much diminished. Many families found their sons and heirs did not come back and lost their lands to territorial princes, including most cynically, the Habsburgs themselves.

Habsburg power in what is today Switzerland was largely wiped out. Not immediately, but the cities, Zurich, Berne, Lucerne, Zug, and Solothurn continued their expansionist policy. Basel shook off Habsburg control. The local lords, who could no longer hope for meaningful Habsburg assistance caved, handed over political control and became citizens. In 1388 there was one more battle between the Swiss and the Habsburgs, which the Habsburgs again lost.  In 1393 the existing union of Uri, Schwyz, Nidwalden, Lucerne, Zug and Zurich added Berne, Solothurn and Glarus. This “Old Federation” would last until 1481 and in that period would push back Habsburg influence all the way to the Rhine River, taking even their ancestral seat, the Habsburg itself.

Leopold III’s body was brought to the grand abbey of Königsfelden, originally built as a memorial to the murdered king Albrecht I. Whilst the Swiss regard Sempach as one of the greatest battles in their history, the Habsburgs developed a very different narrative. As they saw it the great general, brave fighter and chivalric knight had been murdered through treachery by an uncouth rabble. His heroic refusal to be rescued from the battlefield made him into a martial idol. Over time the memory of Leopold III got mashed up with that of saint Leopold, the 12th century Babenberger duke the Habsburgs had already incorporated into their made-up family history.

But apart from expanding the family lore, the death of Leopold III was a catastrophe. He left behind four sons, four sons who did not get on with each other. Nor did they get on with their uncle and later their cousin from the other branch of the family. So next week we will meet a whole bunch of new Austrian archdukes, William the Courteous, Leopold the Fat, Ernest the iron-willed and Frederick with the empty pockets. A further division of the territory was at hand. The Habsburgs were heading downhill at speed. As I said, in this family it is the fall that comes before the rise.

I hope you come along for the tumble. And if you want to go back to some of the wider background of this story, check out episodes 150 about Morgarten, 152 about Margarete Maultasch and the acquisition of Carinthia and Tyrol, 166 about the Great Schism which overlaid all that went on at the time and 165 on king Wenceslaus the Lazy who was at least formally in charge of the empire at that time.

And if you find all of this worth supporting, go to historyofthegermans.com/support, where you can find various options to keep this show on the road and advertising free.

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The Privilegium Maius

In a niche to the left of the main altar in the Stephansdom, the great cathedral in the center of Vienna, somewhat hidden by later decorations stands a cenotaph. On its cover you see two figures lying side by side, each nearly two meters long and wearing splendid clothes, their feet resting on two lions. The figures are wearing what looks like crowns, a band surmounted by 12 spikes. A royal couple no doubt.

There is an inscription surrounding them, but you will be unable to read it. It is written in a script I have never seen before, the Alphabetum Kaldeorum. This script, it is said, comes from the ancient Chaldeans, a peoples living in Babylon in biblical times.

We know what it says on the cenotaph, because there is a conversion table from this script into Latin script held in the state library in Munich. The mystery revealed we can now read the text, which merely says: “This is the grave of duke Rudolf the Founder” .

Who was this man who wrote his name and title in a secret script onto his funeral monument, a script, most people believe he had created himself,  and who called himself “the founder”, a name he is still known to us today. What is he the founder of? Why is he wearing a crown when he was only a duke? How come he is one of the most important early Habsburg, yet reigned for merely 7 years?

This is a story of myths and mysteries, of tangible political objectives, elaborate forgeries, a tale that features letters by Julius Caesar and Nero that reveal an unexpected fondness for this land on the edge of the empire. Ah, and Hercules’ son is also making an appearance – in Austria.

Seriously, this is what we are looking at in this episode.

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Transcript

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 204 – Rudolf IV, the Founder and Forger, which is also episode 2 of Season 11: The Fall and Rise of the House of Habsburg.

In a niche to the left of the main altar in the Stephansdom, the great cathedral in the center of Vienna, somewhat hidden by later decorations stands a cenotaph. On its cover you see two figures lying side by side, each nearly two meters long and wearing splendid clothes, their feet resting on two lions. The figures are wearing what looks like crowns, a band surmounted by 12 spikes. A royal couple no doubt.

There is an inscription surrounding them, but you will be unable to read it. It is written in a script I have never seen before, the Alphabetum Kaldeorum. This script, it is said, comes from the ancient Chaldeans, a peoples living in Babylon in biblical times.

We know what it says on the cenotaph, because there is a conversion table from this script into Latin script held in the state library in Munich. The mystery revealed we can now read the text, which merely says: “This is the grave of duke Rudolf the Founder” .

Who was this man who wrote his name and title in a secret script onto his funeral monument, a script, most people believe he had created himself,  and who called himself “the founder”, a name he is still known to us today. What is he the founder of? Why is he wearing a crown when he was only a duke? How come he is one of the most important early Habsburg, yet reigned for merely 7 years?

This is a story of myths and mysteries, of tangible political objectives, elaborate forgeries, a tale that features letters by Julius Caesar and Nero that reveal an unexpected fondness for this land on the edge of the empire. Ah, and Hercules’ son is also making an appearance – in Austria.

Seriously, this is what we are looking at in this episode.

But before we start let me pass on some news about the podcasting industry. Last week Wondery closed its doors, one of the leading producers of narrative podcasts. The argument brought forward by Amazon, its parent company, was, that the future was video and audio only was simply no longer enough to keep listeners engaged. On one hand I should be grateful that a competitor has fallen by the wayside, but that would be short sighted. Most media lives of the fact that people are using it. They make it part of their day, like listening to radio or watching television. And once a habit disappears, the industry disappears with it, just look at newspapers. So, if you guys enjoy the kind of audio first product that we and many other podcasters produce, please keep listening and if you feel like supporting the effort either by spreading the word about great shows or helping creators financially, please do so.

And special thanks to Nicholas S., Ruben de G., Anne Hanson, Paul H., Martin, Matthias D., John A., Marian and Felix F. who have signed up on historyofthegermans.com/support.

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And with that, back to the show

Last week we ended with the birth of Rudolf, the eldest son of duke Albrecht the Wise of Austria, on All Saints day 1339. This event that brought enormous relief not only to his parents, but to all the people in the land.

When he saw the light of day for the first time, the legendary fecundity of the Habsburg family had hit a bad snag. His father did have five brothers, but all of them and all of their sons had died. If Rudolfs mother, at the time already 39 years old, and his father suffering cruelly from rheumatoid arthritis, had not by some miracle conceived him and then three more sons, the Habsburgs would have ended as a footnote in European history, rather than as a whole library. And the lands of Austria, Styria, Carinthia and Carniola would have been torn part in a war of succession, as much of Europe would be when such a snag happened again in 1701 and 1740.

But this time, it didn’t. Rudolf lived and so did his younger brothers Albrecht and Leopold. And what was almost as miraculous was that his father Albrecht the Wise survived until Rudolph was 19 and hence able to take over the political leadership of his duchy.

During the 14th century the Habsburgs pursued two main territorial objectives. The first was to either acquire or at least contain their neighbours, the kingdoms of Bohemia and Hungary. Acquisition had been the objective in the earlier parts of the century when the original dynasties of these lands, the Premyslids and Arpads had died out. Rudolph’s grandfather, king Albrecht I had made a bid for both, but had his hopes cut short when he was cut short by his nephew.

By the time of Rudolf’s birth, acquisition was no longer an option. Bohemia had gone to the great rivals of the Habsburgs, the counts of Luxemburg, and it was now ruled by one of Europe’s most famous chivalric knights, John, the Blind King of Bohemia, whilst Hungary had gone to the Angevins from Naples whose astute policies and growing wealth would make them the most powerful rulers in Central europe. Therefore containment was the dominant policy. Keeping friendly relations to avoid invasion was the order of the day in Vienna.

With the east sealed off, their main focus turned west. Like all other princely families, the Habsburgs had long realised that the only way to achieve supremacy in the empire required them to hold a large and contiguous territory where they could move soldiers and gold from one end to the other without having to cross someone else’s land. In 1339, when Rudolf was born, the Habsburgs were a long way away from that objective.

Their ancestral lands in the triangle between Basel, Strasburg and Freiburg lies 700 km west of Vienna. In between these two territories lay the duchy of Carinthia, the county of Tyrol, the archbishopric of Salzburg, the county of Feldkirch, the abbey of St. Gallen, the bishopric of Constance and the cities in what is now German speaking Switzerland. All of these had to be brought under Habsburg control if they were to create that contiguous territory stretching all along the Northern side of the Alps.

Carinthia and Tyrol were the first on the shopping list. And the Habsburgs were lucky in as much that Henry, duke of Carinthia and count of Tyrol was on his last leg. All he was leaving behind was a daughter, Margarete. But then the Habsburgs were also unlucky, because Margarete had been married to Johann-Heinrich of Moravia, the son of king John of Bohemia from the House of Luxemburg.

At this time there were three families fighting for supremacy in the empire, the Habsburgs, the Wittelsbachs who controlled Bavaria and the Palatinate and the Luxemburgers who were kings of Bohemia and counts of Luxemburg. Each of these powers were roughly equal in size. Like in any three body system, politics were extremely fragile. Each side had to balance their desire to add territory against the risk that the other two would gang up on you if you became too greedy.

The inheritance of Henry of Carinthia was the matter that would push this system out of kilter.

As far as law and custom was concerned, Carinthia and Tyrol were to go to Henry’s daughter Margarete and her husband Johann-Heinrich of Luxemburg. But if that happened, Austria would be completely surrounded by its rivals. The Luxemburgs in Bohemia and Carinthia, the Wittelsbachs on their western border and the Hungarians in their back. That was obviously hugely concerning for Albrecht the Wise, but also to the emperor Ludwig the Bavarian. King John of Bohemia had already made some major gains in Silesia and in his homelands on the western border of the empire, so the precarious power balance was already a bit lopsided. Adding Carinthia and Tyrol would seriously upset the apple cart.

So Ludwig and Albrecht made a deal. The Habsburgs were to receive Carinthia, Carniola and the southern part of Tyrol, whilst Ludwig would get the northern part of Tyrol. Margarete and her husband would be shoved out of  the way.

And that is exactly what they did, or tried to do. In 1335, Henry of Carinthia had just died, the emperor Ludwig the Bavarian declared Carinthia and Tyrol vacant fiefs and awarded them to Albrecht and his brother Otto. Margarete, JoIhann-Heinrich and the rest of the Luxemburger clan were flabbergasted by such blatant thievery. A war was now inevitable. The only problem was that king John was back in Paris recovering from a serious injury that would ultimately turn him blind and his son Karl did not have an army at hand.

So it was left to Margarete and her husband to defend her inheritance. Tyrol straddles both sides of the Alps and is a country of deep valleys, ravines and craggy summits, of castles built into the sides of soaring mountains, a place a comparatively small but determined force could easily defend against even large invading armies. The teenagers, helped by the local lords, took advantage of the topography and sent the Habsburgs packing. Carinthia was harder to defend and less loyal, so it became part of Austria, which it still is.

Margarete and Johann-Heinrich were deeply irritated over the loss of Carinthia and lobbied John of Bohemia to take Carinthia back by force. John who never backed out of a fight invaded Austria. The campaign was a roaring success and the Habsburg army fled. But then John of Bohemia just returned home, not making the slightest effort to take back Carinthia.

The next year the Habsburgs attacked Bohemia and John, most unusually, ceded the battlefield. And then everyone went home.

Having been robbed of Carinthia and Carniola and watching her husband’s family standing by without really helping her, made her, as an Englishmen would say, a bit miffed. But then rumours began circulating that the Luxemburgs were prepared to cede the Tyrol to the Habsburgs for some gains elsewhere, Margarete knew the game was up, unless she did something. And so she did something unprecedented, she threw her husband out. Just like that.

She went to emperor Ludwig the Bavarian to protect her against the inevitable retaliation from the Luxemburgs and a potential invasion by the Habsburgs. Ludwig too was keen on the Tyrol, who wouldn’t be. It is gorgeous.

There were a few problems though. Margarete’s marriage to Johann-Heinrich was valid as far as the church was concerned. And incessant philandering, squeezing one’s wife’s land’s dry and paranoid killing of political opponents weren’t recognised reasons for divorce. Only  consanguinity or failure to consume were. The chances that the pope would grant a divorce to help an excommunicated emperor who had just made sure the pope had no more say in imperial elections, was pretty much 0.0000000%.

But Ludwig the Bavarian was an emperor. And as emperor he granted her a civil divorce, the first civil divorce in European history since the Romans. That set Margarete free to marry the son of Ludwig, another Ludwig.

This was not only a massive scandal, but also caused a major shift in imperial politics. As far as the Habsburgs were concerned, working with Ludwig the Bavarians was no longer of any value.  Ludwig had stepped on their toes in Tyrol and hard.

Albrecht changed his allegiance and sought to get closer to the Luxemburgs. And that is why Rudolf, aged five, was put in play to marry Catherine, the daughter of the Karl of Luxemburg, the future king of Bohemia.

Which in turn was the first step in a series of events that would lead to the downfall of emperor Ludwig the Bavarian and the rise Karl to become emperor Karl IV. Ludwigs landgrab in Tyrol had not only alienated the Habsburgs but other princes too. And when Ludwig seized the inheritance of count William of Holland as well, the empire went into revolt.

In 1346, 5 years after Margarete had thrown out Johann-Heinrich  of Luxemburg and 4 years after negotiations about the marriage between Rudolf and Catherine had begun, Karl, heir to Bohemia, was elected king of Romans in opposition to Ludwig the Bavarian. The subsequent war was won by Karl (episode 156), in part because the Habsburgs stayed neutral.

It would still take another 11 years before, in 1357 Rudolf of Habsburg and Catherine of Bohemia were joined in matrimony, but they were. Nevertheless things had changed dramatically by then. When in 1330 the Luxemburgs and Habsburgs were stell on eye level, by 1357 they were no longer. First the blind king John had significantly expanded the Luxemburg territory. Now his son Karl IV was busy to build a territorial connection from his lands in Bohemia all the way to Luxemburg in the West, something the Habsburg at that point could only dream of. And even more importantly, Karl had found a way to mobilise the riches of Bohemia on his behalf.

Meanwhile the Wittelsbach had also declined in stature as various divisions reduced the resources any one of them could mobilise. So even in combination, the Habsburgs and Wittelbachs were no longer able to seriously threaten the Luxemburgs under Karl IV.

Therefore the marriage between Rudolf and Catherine sealed not an alliance of equal partners.

And by how much their power was diminished became obvious when Karl IV promulgated his Golden Bull of 1356, which set the final list of prince electors. Who was missing from that list? The Bavarians and the Habsburgs. Yes, one could argue that the list had been informally agreed since the 1250s, and the Habsburgs were never on it, but still. If the constellation had been as it was 30 years earlier, they should have got on. But it wasn’t and they weren’t.

Despite that snub, the marriage still went ahead. The Habsburgs had become a junior partner in the grand dynastic project of the House of Luxemburg.

We are now in the year 1358 and finally, Albrecht the Wise succumbed to his many ailments. Rudolf took over and he tried desperately to bring the family back up to the status he believed it deserved.

To do that he pursued several avenues.

For one he wanted to elevate the status of Austria and his capital Vienna by establishing a bishopric there. As we know, establishing new bishopric is not easy. It is not as hard as it was in the 11th century when the emperor Henry II had to kneel before his bishops and admit to his own infertility to be allowed to set up Bamberg. But it was still a difficult thing to do. And even though the process had only just begun and the outcome was uncertain, Rudolf kicked off the construction of a magnificent church in Vienna, the Stephansdom. His plan included two towers, as was the prerogative of a cathedral, though that second tower was never built.

In 1365 he founded a university in Vienna, the second oldest in the empire after Prague, again in an attempt to get on eye level with his father-in-law.

And he did get his reward for loyalty, when he acquired the Tyrol. Not by force, but through an agreement with Margarete Maultasch, whose son Meinhard had died and who had fallen out with the Wittelsbachs. The Wittelsbachs were of course unhappy about that, but could not do much since the senior partner, emperor Karl IV, held his hand over his son-in-law.

Then the Habsburg-Luxemburg partnership grew even closer. Karl and Rudolf agreed that in case either of their families were to die out, the other would inherit their lands in their entirety. Whilst at this point either side had at least a few potential male heirs, the probability of such an event was not very high. But when we look back, the average time one family occupied a throne during that period was 150 to 200 years. So this was a long term option that became ever more valuable to either party as time progressed. And as the option gained in value so did the partnership, tying the Habsburgs ever closer to the Luxemburgs.

Beyond these tangible shifts, Rudolf triggered a mental and legal shift for the House of Habsburg that would be even more significant than the Stephansdom, the university and inheritance option.

In 1358 or 1359 Rudolf’s librarians “discovered” some remarkable ancient documents deep in the bowels of the ducal archives. In total these were five documents.

The oldest dates to October 4, 1058. In it the emperor Henry IV confirms the existence of certain privileges that have been awarded to the dukes of Austria by  -drumroll- the emperors Julius Caesar and Nero. And given such letters are of such august provenance, here they are in their entirety (quote):

“We, Julius Caesar, Imperator and Priest of the Gods, we, supreme ruler of the imperial land and Augustus, we, sustainer of the entire world, grant Roman citizenship and our peace to the eastern march, the land and its inhabitants. We command you, by the strength of our triumph, to obey our uncle, the senator, because we have given you to him and his heirs and descendants as a fief to be held in perpetuity [….]

We grant him and his successors all the benefits of the aforementioned Eastern Lands. Furthermore, we appoint our uncle and all his successors as advisors to the most secret Roman council, so that from now on no important business or cause shall be undertaken without his knowledge.

Given at Rome, capital of the world, on Friday, in the first year of our reign and the first year of the gold tax.”

And here is the second letter

“We, Nero, friend of the gods and propagator of their faith, preceptor of the power of Rome, emperor, Caesar, and Augustus. We have agreed with our entire senate that the land of the Eastern March should be held in esteem above all other lands, because it and its inhabitants are praiseworthy above all those who are subjects of the Roman Empire.

 Therefore, we declare that land to be granted our eternal peace and be exempt from all taxes and censuses that have been or will be imposed in the future by imperial power or by us or our successors or by anyone else. We also desire that the same land remain permanently free. We also decree by Roman authority that no adversity shall befall the aforementioned land from anyone. If anyone should act contrary to this, as soon as he has done so, he shall be under the ban of the Roman Empire and shall never be released from it.

Given at Lateran on the day of the great god Mars.” End quote

In the subscript the emperor Henry IV explains that after translating these imperial letters from the pagan language into Latin he was so impressed, he passed control of the archbishopric of Salzburg and ownership of the immensely rich abbey of Lorsch to duke Henry II of Austria.

Right

The next charter dated September 17, 1158 was even more expansive. In it the emperor Barbarossa granted the dukes of Austria in 17 articles the indivisibility of their territory, automatic inheritance of the duchy by the first born, including the right to pass it through the female line, the monopoly over jurisdiction without appeal to imperial courts, no obligation to appear at imperial diets or support the emperor militarily or financially, full control over the church in Austria etc., etc., pp.

Effectively Barbarossa allowed Austria to enjoy all benefits of participation in the empire without any of the obligations. And to mark this special status, the duke of Austria was named a Palatinus Archidux, an imperial paladin and arch duke, who had to have precedence at all official events, sitting to the right of the emperor, wearing a ducal hat adorned with an eastern crown. If you look at the artwork for this episode, you can see Rudolf wearing this very special hat.

The next three documents are dated to the reigns of emperor Frederick II and King Rudolf I and confirmed the previous two after adding some further rights and privileges.

What an amazing find! Final proof that Austria and therefore its rulers were exceptional. Their endorsement, even descent from Caesars uncle gave them a pedigree none of the princely families ion the empire could match. They have been granted not just full autonomy by the great emperors of antiquity but also a permanent seat on the council, and no important decisions could be taken without consulting them.

So astonishing were these far reaching privileges, some people had doubts about the veracity of in particular the letters from Caesar and Nero. When the emperor Karl IV was asked to confirm these privileges, he sent copies to one of the 14th century most learned men, Francesco Petrarca, to check them out. Petrarca zoomed in on the imperial letters. His answer was not very flattering. He called them “such ridiculous forgeries, they must have come from either an “arch-jester, a bellowing ox, or a screaming donkey”. But he did not say that the document itself was a forgery, only that the chancellor of the emperor Henry IV way back in the 11th century who had included them into the charter, had been duped by a tremendously bad hustler.

Petrarch was not only one of the foremost scholars of Roman antiquity, he was also very much attached to his head. And such an important appendix could easily be lost if one accuses the duke, excuse me, palatine archduke of Austria of forgery. Much better and equally effective to claim some long dead scribe had been had by an unknown and equally very dead scoundrel.

When people refer to the privilegium maius, which is the name these documents are known by today, they usually describe it as a reaction to the snub of being left out in the list of Prince electors in Karl IV’s Golden Bull. And there was certainly an element of that here. The insistence on being enfeoffed at home whilst sitting atop a horse rather than kneeling before the emperor, the focus on the seating plan and the title of archduke, complete with special crown, feels a bit like sour grapes.

And I think I did describe it in such terms as well when I first mentioned it in episode 161.

But upon reflection and reading the actual text, it becomes clear that Rudolf pursued some tangible political objectives with this forgery that go well beyond the restoration of his injured pride.

The Privilegium Maius is based on a genuine privilege issued by Barbarossa in 1158, the so-called Privilegium Minus. There the dukes of Austria were already granted far reaching privileges and significant independence from the empire. Rudolf expanded this charter, adding things like primogeniture, full inheritability in the female line, full exemption from imperial courts, sovereign-like autonomy and the right to appoint bishops. And all these privileges were then to be applied to possessions outside Austria as well. As we will see, these provisions would be used by Rudolf and his successors to solidify their control of their territory. It was even used as late as 1740 to legitimize the inheritance of Maria Theresia.

When all these papers were handed to Karl IV for confirmation, he treated them, not as forgeries, but as some sort of shopping list. He granted his son in law some of the privileges he had included, but rejected others. It would be another Habsburg ruler, Friedrich III who would confirm the whole of Privilegium maius and all its components, putting it on the statue book where it remained until 1806. It was only in 1852 that it was officially recognized as a forgery.

So, as far as fakes go, this was probably one of the most consequential forgeries in European history.

That being said, the Privilegium Maius is not just about status and privileges, it is also about the way the Habsburgs saw themselves.

It is not unusual, or arguably even necessary for a ruling family to have an origin myth that lifts them above mere mortals. The more extreme versions of that were the Merovingians who traced themselves to a mythical sea monster, Julius Caesar who claimed descent from Venus and the emperors of Japan tracing themselves to the Sun Goddess Amaterasu. In Christian Europe the descent from gods was replaced by emphasizing saints in the family tree, think Saint Louis for the French, Saint Stephen for the Hungarians, Edward the Confessor for the English, St. Olaf for the Norwegians and St. Wenceslaus for the Bohemians. Charlemagne, though not an official saint in the catholic church performed a similar function for the Holy Roman Emperors. Lesser houses did the same if they were lucky to have a suitable ancestor.

The Habsburgs had the problem that they had only recently risen to prominence and none of the their members had yet lived up to the basic standards of sainthood. In fact the only member of the family who got close was the very last Austrian emperor Charles I, the one whose heart lies in the chimney of the Holy House in Muri.

So, in the absence of one of their own, the Habsburgs appropriated Leopold of Babenberg, from the family that had ruled Austria from its inception until 1246. Unfortunately for the Habsburgs, they had zero blood relationship to the Babenbergers. But that did not stop them pretending they had. Many Habsburgs were given Leopold and Friedrich as first names, names that had been dominant in the Babenbergers family and had not appeared in the Habsburg family tree before.

So far, so normal. But then the Habsburgs go several steps further.

It is around the same time that Rudolf’s forgers made up ancient charters that an anonymous writer compiled the “Austrian Chronicle of the 95 Rulers”. In it we hear that Austria was founded, by the Jewish knight Abraham of Temonaria, 810 years after the flood, which equates to roughly 1500 BC. From then on, Austria and its ruling family were at the epicenter of European history. In an unbroken line that included Jewish patriarchs, the roman emperors and the Babenberger dukes of Austria, the right to rule the known world had come down to the House of Habsburg.

Such genealogical romances were not unusual at the time, remember that Barbarossa was seen as a descendant of the kings of Troy, but this tale is unique in its mix of biblical, ancient roman and relatively recent Austrian history. And they do not skip anyone. Austria, which the ancients called Noricum, was allegedly founded by Norix, the son of Hercules. Vienna was called that because Caesar had founded the city and had stayed there for 2 years, a Biennium and so forth and so forth.

This may all look like ridiculous overcompensation by a family that had risen fast, was seen as nouveau riche by its peers, and now found itself in decline.

But there is also another way to look at it. When Rudolf IV died 1365, barely 27 years old, he had laid the foundation for the sense of exceptionalism that will permeate the family from here on out. And he had given them the physical embodiment of that exceptionality, the title and headgear of an archduke, a title that does not exist in any other context and instantly identifies its bearer as a Habsburgs.

It is in this way that Rudolf was right when he called himself “the founder”. He may not have founded the dynasty in the sense of being its ancestor, but he founded the notion that being a Habsburg was something exceptional, something that goes beyond just being an important prince.

Rudolf left no sons, so that the role of the head of the family had to go to his brothers, Albrecht, called “with the plait” and Leopold, called the Just. Both were teenagers at the time and almost immediately quarreled. These facts, their youth and their quarrel sparked a last Wittelsbach attempt to recapture the Tyrol which the brothers just about managed to rebuff. Despite this joint success they kept going at each other, until in 1379 they divided the Habsburg lands amongst themselves. That was in direct violation of the Privilegium Maius, a long list of ordinances issued by previous archdukes and an explicit agreement made between the three brothers. It seems the notion of a common Habsburg mission had not yet had enough time to gestate into a tool that kept the family together.

And like these division often did, it dropped the family down another notch in the European power stakes. The other was the campaign that on July 9th, 1386, brought the younger and more impetuous brother, Leopold, to a hill near the Sempach lake where he would bring about the birth of a nation and the loss of his ancestral homelands. That we will discuss next week.

And before I go, just a big thank you to all of you who are supporting the show. Your encouragement in all its forms, not just financial, is what keeps this podcast going. If you want to become a patron, go to my website, historyofthegermans.com/support and sign up there. And let me know If you wish to have your full name read out to be there for eternity, or if you prefer just first name and initial.

Last thing, if you want to go into more detail on the things I mentioned or hear them in a different context, go to the episode website – the link is in the show notes. I have included hyperlinks to previous episodes where we discussed these topics, namely episodes 152 about Margarete Maultasch, 156 and 159 about the rise of Karl IV, 160/161 about the Golden Bull and 196 to 199 about the decline of the Wittelsbachs.

And with that, lets reconvene next week and go to Switzerland….

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The Beginnings of the Habsburg Dynasty

In the small town of Muri, about halfway between Zurich and Lucerne stands a grand baroque abbey. And when I say grand, I mean seriously grand, St. Blasien kind of grand. Its central dome is to this day the largest such structure in Switzerland and its interior, created between 1743 and 1750 is a perfect example of the Rococo style. If, like me, you always associated Switzerland with Calvinism and its abhorrence of decoration, such a structure may come as a surprise.  An interior thronging with naked putto’s holding up coats of arms whilst playing wind instruments is something you are more likely to associate with Bavaria or Austria.

And with Austria, you may not be so far off the mark.

To the right of the main altar, facing the chancel you see two kneeling figures, a man and a woman. Above it reads – obviously in Latin quote: “In this basilica lies Radebot, the first count of Habsburg and his wife Ita, the duchess of Lorraine and founder of this monastery, as well es their son Adalbert, their daughter Richeza” and several others.

As always with the Habsburgs, there is a debate whether these people were indeed buried here, whether it was Ita or Radebot’s brother Werner who had founded the monastery, whether Ita was indeed a daughter of  the duke of Lorraine and so forth. What is fact is that Radobot built a castle, known as the castle of the Hawk above the nearby city of Brugg in around 1030. Hawk, in German is Habicht and the Habichtsburg became abbreviated to Habsburg and that became the family name. Who Radobot’s father was and how he acquired his lands and castles is ultimately unknown, making him the oldest known ancestor of Europe’s most enduring dynasty.

If you leave the main church at Muri and turn left you find a small chapel dedicated to our Mother of Loreto. The cult of Loreto is based on the belief that the house where Maria was visited by the archangel Gabriel and where Jesus grew, up was transported to Loreto in Italy by angels in 1291 when the crusader state in the Holy Land had collapsed. Quickly a basilica sprung up where the modest brick building had miraculously appeared on day. Soon thousands of pilgrims came hoping for healing or forgiveness available on such a holy site. Loreto inspired dozens of replicas across Europe. I saw one in Prague this summer which I very much enjoyed. And the grand abbey of Muri did not want to miss out. In 1698 the monks built their own Holy House. Like most Loreto chapels it is divided into two rooms, the virgin’s living room with an altar at its end and then behind the altar, the holy kitchen with the holy chimney.

And if you were allowed to go behind the altar and look through the metal grille into the chimney you find two vessels. One says: CAROLI AVSTRIAE IMPERATORIS AC HVNGARIAE REGIS COR IN DEO QVJESCAT and the other ZITAE AVSTRIAE IMPERATRICIS HVNGARIAE REGINAE COR INSEPERABILITER CONIVGIS CORDI IVNGATVR. Brief translation: the first says: “The heart of Charles, Emperor of Austria and King of Hungary, may it rest in God”. And the second “The heart of Zita, Empress of Austria and Queen of Hungary, be inseparably joined to the heart of her spouse.” One heart belongs to Charles I, the last of the reigning Habsburg monarchs, who abdicated in 1918 and whose body was never allowed to return to Austria, and the other to Zita, his wife, who was put to rest in the Imperial crypt in Vienna with 145 other members of the family. Only their hearts are still together.

Two couples, marking the beginning and the end of the remarkable political career of a family that ruled half of europe and a lot more for centuries. And at the same time, two couples who were deeply rooted in their religious convictions. Two very typical Habsburg couples, connected across 900 years.

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In the small town of Muri, about halfway between Zurich and Lucerne stands a grand baroque abbey. And when I say grand, I mean seriously grand, St. Blasien kind of grand. Its central dome is to this day the largest such structure in Switzerland and its interior, created between 1743 and 1750 is a perfect example of the Rococo style. If, like me, you always associated Switzerland with Calvinism and its abhorrence of decoration, such a structure may come as a surprise.  An interior thronging with naked putto’s holding up coats of arms whilst playing wind instruments is something you are more likely to associate with Bavaria or Austria.

And with Austria, you may not be so far off the mark.

To the right of the main altar, facing the chancel you see two kneeling figures, a man and a woman. Above it reads – obviously in Latin quote: “In this basilica lies Radebot, the first count of Habsburg and his wife Ita, the duchess of Lorraine and founder of this monastery, as well es their son Adalbert, their daughter Richeza” and several others.

As always with the Habsburgs, there is a debate whether these people were indeed buried here, whether it was Ita or Radebot’s brother Werner who had founded the monastery, whether Ita was indeed a daughter of  the duke of Lorraine and so forth. What is fact is that Radobot built a castle, known as the castle of the Hawk above the nearby city of Brugg in around 1030. Hawk, in German is Habicht and the Habichtsburg became abbreviated to Habsburg and that became the family name. Who Radobot’s father was and how he acquired his lands and castles is ultimately unknown, making him the oldest known ancestor of Europe’s most enduring dynasty.

If you leave the main church at Muri and turn left you find a small chapel dedicated to our Mother of Loreto. The cult of Loreto is based on the belief that the house where Maria was visited by the archangel Gabriel and where Jesus grew, up was transported to Loreto in Italy by angels in 1291 when the crusader state in the Holy Land had collapsed. Quickly a basilica sprung up where the modest brick building had miraculously appeared on day. Soon thousands of pilgrims came hoping for healing or forgiveness available on such a holy site. Loreto inspired dozens of replicas across Europe. I saw one in Prague this summer which I very much enjoyed. And the grand abbey of Muri did not want to miss out. In 1698 the monks built their own Holy House. Like most Loreto chapels it is divided into two rooms, the virgin’s living room with an altar at its end and then behind the altar, the holy kitchen with the holy chimney.

And if you were allowed to go behind the altar and look through the metal grille into the chimney you find two vessels. One says: CAROLI AVSTRIAE IMPERATORIS AC HVNGARIAE REGIS COR IN DEO QVJESCAT and the other ZITAE AVSTRIAE IMPERATRICIS HVNGARIAE REGINAE COR INSEPERABILITER CONIVGIS CORDI IVNGATVR. Brief translation: the first says: “The heart of Charles, Emperor of Austria and King of Hungary, may it rest in God”. And the second “The heart of Zita, Empress of Austria and Queen of Hungary, be inseparably joined to the heart of her spouse.” One heart belongs to Charles I, the last of the reigning Habsburg monarchs, who abdicated in 1918 and whose body was never allowed to return to Austria, and the other to Zita, his wife, who was put to rest in the Imperial crypt in Vienna with 145 other members of the family. Only their hearts are still together.

Two couples, marking the beginning and the end of the remarkable political career of a family that ruled half of europe and a lot more for centuries. And at the same time, two couples who were deeply rooted in their religious convictions. Two very typical Habsburg couples, connected across 900 years.

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The Habsburgs make their first appearance at the top table of the European political scene more than 200 years after Radebot and Ita had founded or had not founded the great abbey at Muri. One of their descendants, Rudolf von Habsburg was elected King of the Romans in 1273. Later on Habsburg mythology will describe him as a poor count who rose to kingship on the back of merit and Christian humility. It is said that he once handed over his horse to a priest so that he could reach the dying in time for the last sacrament, an act of enormous generosity since a fully trained warhorse cost a fortune and not every priest could be trusted to bring such a valuable item back. And Rudolf, we are told, could not afford such generosity. He was a man of modest means whose simple coat drew the derision of the imperial princes draped in robes made from cloth of gold.

But these are just tales, tales told to emphasize the family’s piety and sobriety, manufactured in the great PR machine they kept humming along from their earliest days. In reality the Habsburgs were very rich, rich enough to be amongst the most significant backers of the Hohenstaufen emperor Frederick II when he cut is way to the imperial throne in 1212. Radebot’s descendants had gained significant territories in Alsace, the Breisgau and what is today German speaking Switzerland through the usual combination of ruthlessness, smart political maneuvering and fecundity. But what had turbocharged their wealth was a bridge. This bridge across the Schöllenen Gorge was built around 1230 and opened up the Gotthard pass, then and now one of the most important and shortest Alpine crossings. The Habsburgs controlled several of the cities at the foot of the mountain, including Lucerne, and acted as vicars over the Swiss cantons of Uri, Schwyz and Nidwalden which covered the northern side of the pass. Tolls from this road allowed the family to fund further conquests across the former duchy of Swabia and the kingdom of Burgundy.

Rudolf came into his inheritance when he was 22. Though the Hohenstaufen emperor Frederick II is still around, the whole structure is coming apart. Popes and emperors were at daggers drawn. In 1246 an antiking was elected and imperial power was fading away. This was the Interregnum and it was dog eat dog time.

Inheritances that in the past would have gone to the crown to be enfeoffed to a loyal vassal of the emperor, were now divided up amongst the most aggressive of their relatives. And Rudolf was very good and very lucky at that particular game. He did benefit from the unusual fecundity of his family which had placed sons and daughters into the bloodlines of practically anyone who was anyone in the south west of the empire. Which meant that when other families, less blessed with powerful loins, expired, there was always a Habsburg claim in the mix. During his career as a serial heir, several important families were dying out or weakened. One was a lateral branch of the Habsburgs whose possessions he managed to consolidate. The Lenzburgs, then the Kiburgs and finally the mighty dukes of Zaehringen disappeared from natural causes. Whenever that happened, Rudolf of Habsburg was there, holding the marriage contract in on hand and the sword in the other, demanding his share of the spoils, until he had become the most powerful lord in Swabia.

This kind of life is one of perennial warfare. The annals of Basel record that in 1268 he conquered Utzenberg and some other castles, in 1269 he takes Reichenstein, in 1270 he besieges the city of Basel for 3 days, in 1271 he burns down the monastery at Granfelden and several villages and that same year he also destroys the castle at Tiefenstein, in 1272 he goes after Freiburg and destroys the surroundings of the city, and so forth and so forth.

Bishops were sort of a speciality of his. He made his name in a feud against the bishop of Strasburg who had refused to hand over another one of these inheritances. His retaliation was relentless. He did not stop until he had the bishop stripped of all his strongholds and cities, including Strasburg itself.

Once the bishop had been replaced and his successor had recognised Rudolf’s victory, all Rudolf asked for was his original demand. The cities and strongholds he handed back, allegedly without even asking for a ransom payment. According to the chronicler he did this to turn a foe into a friend and ally.

That kind of behaviour was extremely unusual in the Middle Ages. And it hints at a more general observation – that Rudolf was a strategic thinker well ahead of his time.  Outwardly he was warm and affable. But his engaging friendliness and outward humility covered a steely determination to win, and to win at all cost. Conventions of chivalry that ruled the behaviour of Europe’s elites to him were just that, conventions, guidelines to be observed in normal times but that could be broken if the occasion demanded it.

Rudolf von Habsburg was a very competent war entrepreneur and politician and quite wealthy. But that does not make you a candidate for the throne of the Holy Roman Empire. There were dozens of such counts around and more importantly, there were the imperial princes who sported lineages that included kings and emperors going all the way back to Charlemagne or even Clovis. Compared to that Rudolf’ descent from count Radebot made him distinctly nouveau riche.

Making Rudolf King of the Romans was an unusual choice, and such an unusual choice required an unusual set of circumstances.

For 23 years there had been no effective King of the Romans, let alone emperor. Instead there were two competing claimants, neither of whom spent much or any time in the Reich. This -amongst other things – prevented the largest and most populous state in Europe from providing meaningful assistance to the rapidly disappearing kingdom of Jerusalem. Hence the papacy – which had created this chaos in the first place – now demanded that a proactive new emperor was elected, who could then make his way to Jerusalem forthwith.

There was no shortage of proactive men with vast fortunes in gold and men willing to take up the burden of kingship. But the wealth in men and material was also their problem. The most eminent imperial princes, like the duke of Bavaria, the count palatine on the Rhine, the landgrave of Thuringia and the duke of Saxony were all keen. But they realized that for one reason or another they might not get the vote. So they could live with someone else becoming king, but only as long as that someone wasn’t one of their peers. And there was one they definitely would not allow to sit the throne of Charlemagne, and that was the richest of the princes, king Ottokar II the Golden King of Bohemia. Electing him would lead to a strengthening of imperial power, which in turn meant a loss of their freedoms.

And the other thing they did not want to lose were the lands they had pilfered from the now defunct Hohenstaufen family. Some of these had been personal property of the emperors, which could be taken on the basis of descent from some second cousin twice removed. But the crown lands were a different kettle of fish. These were technically unalienable and would have to be handed back should the new emperor have enough power to force their return.

These were the unusual circumstances that turned a gruff old warrior from Swabia into a perfect gracious lord.

Rudolf was a rich count but still a fraction as powerful as any of the great imperial prices. He at least pretended to be a godson of the Hohenstaufen emperor Frederick II, bringing him the votes of those yearning for a return of the good old days.  And at the same time he had been one of the most rapacious plunderers of the Hohenstaufen inheritance, making him acceptable to the other princes who were reluctant to disgorge the properties they had stolen from the royal purse. And he was a pious man with a track record as a crusader. Best of all, he was 55 years old, so should not be around for much longer.

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In a truly astounding twist of fate, the man who brokered the deal that led to Rudolfs elevation, was Friedrichof Hohenzollern, ancestor of the kings of Prussia who worked so hard to erode Habsburg power in the 18th and 19th century.

Surprise, surprise, Rudolf turned out to be the exact opposite of what the electors wanted. Not only did he have the temerity to live for almost another 20 years, he used this time to rebuild the financial and political infrastructure of the imperial crown. He appointed powerful local aristocrats as vogts or imperial vicars in the regions and tasked them with recapturing the crown lands. Peter Wilson estimates that Rudolf managed to bring 2/3rds of the Hohenstaufen lands back under royal control.

Rebuilding the royal demesne was however not Rudolf’s most momentous achievement.  That was a bit more self-serving. Rudolf managed to secure the duchies of Austria and Styria for his family, to which his successors would later add Carinthia and Carniola, the nucleus of the Habsburg empire.

When Rudolf ascended the throne, these duchies had been held by king Ottokar of Bohemia for over 20 years and he had the pieces of paper to prove it. If Ottokar had done the right thing and just smiled and waved, the Habsburg would never had a chance. But smile and wave was not his way.

The Bohemian king literally owned a gold mine and had acquired a huge territory that stretched from Bohemia to the Mediterranean. He was so rich and powerful, he thought, he should have become king. But that was exactly the reason the imperial princes did not want him to be king. He did not understand. How could they prefer this poor count over him, the Golden King  whose great deeds of chivalry outshone his rival’s petty squabbles on the Upper Rhine. Ottokar was sulking. When he was invited to come to Rudolf’s first imperial diet, he refused to come and certainly would not swear allegiance to the new king.

Rudolf – the smart politician he was – twisted that not as disrespecting him, but as an insult to the empire and to all the grand princes who had elected him. He raised an imperial army amongst the princes and without encountering much resistance threw Ottokar out of Austria.

Being king, he could now enfeoff his sons with the duchies of Austria and Styria, whilst Carinthia and Carniola were given to his son in law. And with that began the 650-year long rule of the Habsburgs in Austria.

Once Rudolf had added and then defended Austria against Ottokar’s attempt at revenge, the Habsburgs had become imperial princes and one of the most powerful families. But that was only step one.

Rudolf’s political plan from then on out was to create a new imperial dynasty, replicating the Hohenstaufen, or even the Salians or Ottonians. But that is where he hit a snag. The response from the Pope and from the imperial princes was clear: dream on mate. The very last thing anyone, well apart from Rudolf obviously, wanted, was a powerful emperor who could balance out the papacy and force the imperial princes back into submission. So the pope denied him the coronation as emperor and the princes an election of his son as king and successor.

Instead, when Rudolf died, they elected another “minor count”, Adolf von Nassau. Nassau tried the same trick and made a play for the Landgraviate of Thuringia which ended in a disastrous war that sucked in one prince after another. This made things so uncomfortable that the electors turned to the only imperial prince rich and powerful enough to rid them of the pesky Adolf von Nassau, and that prince was Albrecht von Habsburg, Rudolf’s son and heir. So they reluctantly deposed Adolf and elevated Albrecht, who promptly did the honors and killed Adolf – most honorably in a battle obviously.

Now that the Habsburgs were back in play, the apotheosis of the new dynasty was written high up in the skies. And initially everything was going swimmingly.

We are hitting one of those points in European history where feeble loins destroy kingdoms and let new empires emerge. Over the course of a few years, Austria’s neighbors, the kingdoms of Bohemia and Hungary lost their original royal families. Hungary in 1301 and Bohemia in 1306. From that point onwards these lands oscillated between short periods of glorious victories and long periods as pawns in European politics.

Given the strategic position of Austria, bordering both Hungary and Bohemia, and being geographically, demographically and financially weaker than either of them, the Habsburgs were from the getgo hugely interested in these lands. Which is why Albrecht I made a bid for both Bohemia and Hungary when their thrones became vacant.

But these efforts experienced a major setback. In April 1308 Albrecht was mustering an army in Swabia to have another go at Prague. But he never got there. At a dinner his nephew John had asked for the n-th time whether he would at some point receive the inheritance his uncle so kindly managed on his behalf. Apparently John was not happy with the response, since when Albrecht ended the dinner by handing out floral wreaths to his guests, John threw the table decorations in the face of the king and said, he was tired of being fobbed off with worthless baubles.

The next day, the first of May 1308, the king was riding back to his ancestral home on the Castle of the Hawk accompanied by only one attendant. That was when his nephew John and four co-conspirators appeared. John raised his sword and brought it down on the royal skull, making him John Parricida, John the Murderer and bringing him a life on the run. What it also brought down were the Habsburg’s chances to create a new dynasty of Holy Roman Emperors for another 200 years.

The imperial princes were in no mood to elect another Habsburg. They quite rightly feared that the next one would use his elevated position as leverage into Bohemia and/or Hungary, at which point the dynasty would become permanent. They would be even more powerful that Ottokar II had been. Hence they sought out another poor count, Henry of Luxemburg as king, later emperor Henry VII. Henry did them two favors, one was to disappear down to Italy in a madcap attempt at reliving the heyday of the Hohenstaufen, and, much closer to home, by furnishing the Bohemians with a new king who wasn’t a Habsburg.

When Henry VII died in 1313, the Habsburgs had another go at the imperial crown. This ended up in a split election between Friedrich the Handsome, the son of Albrecht I, and a Wittelsbach, Ludwig the Bavarian. The Habsburgs lost the war of succession. Still Ludwig elevated his cousin Friedrich the Handsome to co-king as a way to pacify the empire. Friedrich, despite his formal title, did not gain much influence and shuffled off his mortal coil in 1330. Friedrich the Handsome, was so insignificant, he is not even counted in the list of Kings of the Romans. And he turned out to be the last Habsburg on the throne for a 100 years.

Friedrich’s successor as head of the House of Habsburg was his brother Albrecht, called “the Wise”. That sounds promising!

And it was. Albrecht was somewhat unusual for a Habsburg in as much as he had originally been destined for the church. The Habsburgs were almost all extremely, if not fanatically pious. That however did not compel them to give up potential spares to the church. Right from the start a big part of the Habsburg success lay in placing their sons and daughters into promising positions to inherit even more territory.

Maybe there was an opening here since Albrecht was the fifth son of King Albrecht I and he had a younger brother, Otto, bringing the total to six. But against all the odds, his elder brothers all passed away, the last, King Friedrich the Handsome in 1330 as we just heard. All these guys had been fit and healthy, one of them seemingly even handsome. Albrecht was none of the above. He suffered from terrible arthritis that left him in almost constant pain, unable to walk, let alone ride. Nevertheless he was regarded as one of the most successful early Habsburgs.

Albrecht gave up on the ambitions of his elder brothers and submitted to emperor Ludwig the Bavarian properly. And he was amply rewarded for this. In 1335 emperor Ludwig the Bavarian enfeoffed Albrecht with Carinthia and Carniola, setting aside the claims of the previous duke’s daughter, the famous Margarete Maultasch. I did a whole episode about her remarkable life, so I will not go on about the shenanigans that went on there again.

The rest of his near 25 year old rule was taken up with consolidating his power within the duchies and scheming to deprive Margarete Maultasch of her other, much richer possession, the county of Tyrol. It is during this period that the family is shifting its focus away from their ancestral homeland in the duchy of Swabia to their new territories in Austria, Styria, Carinthia and Carniola. The Habsburgs moved into the Hofburg in Vienna and became Austrian.

But still this otherwise so sedate and sensible reign was built on feet of clay. By 1338, Albrecht and his wife Joan had five sons in 15 years of marriage, but none of them survived childhood. His younger brother Otto  had now died as well, followed by Otto’s two teenage sons. And none of his elder brothers had ever produced a son that lived.

The House of Habsburg, famed for its fecundity, was about to expire. And if it had, fierce wars of succession between the Wittelsbachs and Luxemburgs would have destroyed the land. It goes to show how fragile these dynasties were, when the six sons of Albrecht I, each one married and attempting to procreate could find themselves out of heirs within a generation. And if Albert II had not undertaken a pilgrimage to Aachen, and the lord’s swaddling clothes had not done their thing, the Habsburgs would have ended up as just a footnote in history.

But the miracle happened and Joan gave birth to a son, Rudolf in November 1339, and then three more, Friedrich in 1347, Albrecht in 1349 and Leopold in 1351.  And talking about miracles, at the birth of Leopold, she was 51 years old.

These three boys, minus Friedrich who succumbed to a riding accident, continued the line of the family. And not just that. Rudolf, the eldest, would go on to forge the ideological and political foundations of the casa di Austria that would go on to rule the world. But that is something we will look into next week.

And before I go, just a big thank you to all of you who are supporting the show. Your encouragement in all its forms, not just financial, is what keeps this podcast going. So from next week I will again name individual patrons. If you are a patron or want to become a patron, go to my website, historyofthegermans.com/support and sign up there. And let me know If you wish to have your full name read out to be there for eternity, or if you prefer just first name and initial.

Last thing, if you want to go into more detail on the things I mentioned in this episode or hear them in a different context, go to the episode website – the link is in the show notes. I have included hyperlinks to previous episodes where we discussed these topics, namely episodes 138 to 143 about Rudolf I and Albrecht I, 150 about Friedrich the Handsome and 152 about Margarete Maultasch.

And with that, saddle up and lets get going with the Fall and Rise of the House of Habsburg.

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