Henry VII’s journey to Rome

In the winter of 1310 the emperor elect Henry VII not yet 40 years of age and every inch a king appears in Italy. An Italy torn apart by incessant violence, between and within the cities. Allegedly it is a struggle between the pro-imperial Ghibellines and the pro-papal Guelphs, but 60 years after the last emperor had set foot on Italian soil and seven years after the pope has left for Avignon, these designations have become just names without meaning, monikers hiding the naked ambitions of the powerful families.

The poet Dante Aligheri projects the hopes of many desperate exiles on Henry when he prays that “we, who for so long have passed our nights in the desert, shall behold the gladness for which we have longed, for Titan shall arise pacific, and justice, which had languished without sunshine at the end of the winter’s solstice, shall grow green once more”.

A lot to get done for our Luxemburg count and his army of 5,000 men. Certainty of death, small chance of success, what are we waiting for?

TRANSCRIPT

Hello and Welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 146 – The Return of the King – Henry VII’s journey to Rome

In the winter of 1310 the emperor elect Henry VII not yet 40 years of age and every inch a king appears in Italy. An Italy torn apart by incessant violence, between and within the cities. Allegedly it is a struggle between the pro-imperial Ghibellines and the pro-papal Guelphs, but 60 years after the last emperor had set foot on Italian soil and seven years after the pope has left for Avignon, these designations have become just names without meaning, monikers hiding the naked ambitions of the powerful families.

The poet Dante Aligheri projects the hopes of many desperate exiles on Henry when he prays that “we, who for so long have passed our nights in the desert, shall behold the gladness for which we have longed, for Titan shall arise pacific, and justice, which had languished without sunshine at the end of the winter’s solstice, shall grow green once more”.

A lot to get done for our Luxemburg count and his army of 5,000 men. Certainty of death, small chance of success, what are we waiting for?

But before we start let me remind you that the History of the Germans Podcast is advertising free, thanks to the generosity of our patrons who have signed up on patreon.com/historyofthegermans or on historyofthegermans.com/support.

And this week, as promised,  I would like to highlight some of you who have been so kind to promote the show these last few weeks. And that list starts with syrom whose article on Medium about the intersection of history and AI has been hugely interesting and brought so far a staggering 68 new listeners. You can find a link in the show notes. I would also like to thank Zeta of 1, SomeDude, Bloke in North Dorset, Tom Broekel, Mark Greenwald, Gerco Wolfswinkel and Michael P. Borneman for their relentless support on Twitter/X and elsewhere. And on Facebook, the list is even longer so I may miss some people, but let me thank Kent Lindahl, Katherina Russell-Head, Michael Cuffaru, Eric Andersen, Piotr Kaczmarczyk, Simon Wilde and the incredibly generous Nina Bugge-Rigault. Thank you all so much!

Now, back to the show.

Last week we left Henry VII, still only King of the Romans, in Turin, home of his brother in law, Count Amadeus of Savoy. With him is an army of about 5,000 men recruited amongst his friends and family from the western side of the empire. There are his two brothers, Balduin, the young archbishop of Trier and the great chivalric knight Walram, now count of Luxemburg.  Of the Prince Electors and other great imperial princes only Leopold, duke of Austria has come along.

A modest force, but by no means the smallest ever for a medieval emperor elect.

Two things were supposed to smooth his way down to Rome.

For one, pope Clement VII, the first pope to have left Rome for good and now residing in Poitiers under the watchful eye of the king of France, in an act of defiance, had promised Henry VII to personally crown him in Rome on February 2, 1312 .

And secondly, the citizens of Italy were tired of the perennial strife between and inside the cities, a struggle often described as the fight between the Guelphs and the Ghibellines. News of the arrival of Herny VII in Italy were greeted with great enthusiasm by many. The great poet Dante, at that point a political exile from his hometown of Florence wrote: “Rejoice, therefore, O Italy, thou that art now an object of pity even to the Saracens, for soon shalt thou be the envy of the whole world, seeing that thy bridegroom , the comfort of the nations, and the glory of thy people, the most clement Henry, Elect of God and Augustus and Caesar, is hastening to the wedding. Dry thy tears, and wipe away the stains of thy weeping, most beauteous one ; for he is at hand who shall bring thee forth from the prison of the ungodly, and shall smite the workers of iniquity with the edge of the sword, and shall destroy them.”

Such enthusiasm amongst the oppressed combined with the papal blessing put Henry into a much more attractive position than many of his predecessors had enjoyed in the past; and it presented him with three possible options.

Option 1 would be to just ride hell for leather down to Rome get crowned and get home barely touching the sides. That was the easiest options. Even cities that weren’t excited about the presence of a new emperor on Italian soil would not risk an outright war to stop someone who would be come and gone in a year. That had worked well before, for instance under Henry II, Konrad II an Henry III.

But this option would also mean abandoning any attempt at rebuilding imperial authority in Italy.

If Henry wanted to exercise power in Italy as the great Hohenstaufen had done in the past, he could step up as head of the pro-imperial Ghibelline faction, defeat the Guelphs and establish an imperial administration in each of the cities. That is option 2 and was the way Frederick Barbarossa and Frederick II had pursued their policies with to say it mildly, mixed success.

Option 3 was a new option. Henry could establish himself as the bringer of peace, as an impartial judge, neither Guelph nor Ghibelline, who reconciled the warring factions. Submitting to a just imperial ruler could work for both parties, at least in theory. The end of the incessant warfare would bring peace and prosperity to the merchants and artisans who were usually leaning on the Guelph side, whilst imperial projects in the Holy Land and eastern Europe could provide employment and excitement for the warlike Italian aristocracy who were usually supportive of Ghibelline positions.

No brownie points for guessing which option Henry VII preferred. Here is the great man himself, summarising his position; (quote)

“Has God, the supreme teacher of justice and equity, given a holier commandment than that which says: You shall love your neighbour as yourself? But is there any difference to be made between Christians?

Who is my neighbour? Is it the German, the Frenchman, the Vandal, the Swabian, the Lombard or the Tuscan? And who amongst you would like to answer: The Ghibelline? Don’t you dare!

What have I come for, what have I been sent for? That I, as a godless successor to take up the errors of all my predecessors and continue them? That I should reawaken the old divisions?

And Pope Clement, who occupies God’s throne on earth, should he have called forth our army and engraved his mark on lead so that I might subjugate the Guelphs to the Ghibellines or the Ghibellines to the Guelphs?

What has become of our justice and equality? Some have assumed names under the guise of the Empire, others under that of the Church, names which Lucifer the Fallen has given them and which can only generate hatred. I, then, who go forth as the messenger of Pope Clement and under his sign (which is why Christians look to me as to a second light of God), I am to appear here, to please some and betray others? Not so, as I declare to you loud and clear.” end quote.

What a fine speech by a such a fine man. Love thy neighbour, don’t repeat the errors of one’s predecessors and a promise not to betray those who put their faith in him. Very exciting new approach! Let’s see how that works out.

For that we need to dive a little deeper into the political situation in Italy. And if you think that the situation Germany is confusing, you ain’t seen nottin yet. I had a flick through the podcasts, books and history courses in search of a neat storyline that helps me cut through the events on the Italian peninsula between the death of Frederick II in 1250 and the arrival of Henry VII in 1310. What I found can be summarised in the words of the immortal Meryl Streep: “it’s complicated”.

We still have these city communes that had made life a misery for the Hohenstaufens.

But something has quite fundamentally changed. During the days of the Lombard League the cities were each dominated by an aristocratic oligarchy, the consuls or senators. Their structure was copied from the ancient Roman republic where most decisions about war and peace were discussed amongst the city leadership and then brought to the people for approval. These republics were incredibly warlike. If you remember episode 56 where we talked about the tiny city of Crema that resisted the huge army of Frederick Barbarossa for over a year. That is the one where Barbarossa had the prisoners from Crema tied to his siege engines to stop the defenders from shooting at the expensive equipment, but to no avail because the hostages encouraged their friends and family to rain stones and burning arrows on the attacking towers, even if that meant maiming and killing them.

During the 13^th century this fierce spirit waned away in line with a change in the social structure of the cities. The merchants and artisans had become richer than the land-owning city aristocracy. Trade had kept expanding throughout the 13^thand  14^th century in both scope and scale.

One legacy from the crusades was a dense network of trading posts across the Mediterranean and the Black Sea run by the maritime republics of Venice, Genua and Pisa that brought luxury goods from the East to Europe. Marco Polo had returned from his travels to China and Persia in 1295.  Already in 1245 a Franciscan monk, Giovanni del Pian del Carmine had travelled to the Mongol Khan’s court as an ambassador of pope Innocent IV. The exchange with the East was not limited to knowledge and luxury goods. To feed the ever growing city states, they needed to import grain, and much of it came from what is today Ukraine, already then the bread basket of europe.

Passing goods through from the east to the west wasn’t the only source of wealth. Artisans in Italian cities produced various goods much in demand across Europe. Florentine red cloth was much en vogue as was Venetian glassware from Murano or Milanese armour.

Other than the Hanse, the Italian merchants formed larger and larger firms that set up their own offices abroad and they competed intensely with each other. They believed in a winner takes all model of capitalism, rather than the supportive network approach favoured in Northern Europe.

Production too was proto industrial in as much that for instance Florentine cloth makers would employ hundreds of workers in their workshops where production was split into multiple stages to increase productivity.

All these activities required a lot of capital. Banking began in the Italian cities well before the 12^th century as crop finance. Farmers would receive a loan against their future crop which allowed them to buy seeds and feed their family until harvest. Mostly run as private operations, in 1282 the Republic of Venice opened the first state bank that accepted deposits and issued crop loans. The crusades lead to material expansion and internationalisation of banking activity that also created many of the financial tools we still use today such as bills of exchange, forwards and futures. As trade expanded, so did banking activity. Most bankers were merchants at the same time. They would fund risky ventures such as transporting a large consignment of silk to Bruges by assembling a consortium of merchants who were sharing the risk. Alongside that they may issue a loan to the junior trader who would lead the expedition. This diversification of risk and provision of finance allowed Italian merchants to expand far faster than their counterparts in the rest of europe, except for those of Flanders.

As time went by these banking houses would find themselves lending to kings, popes, emperors and their cities. These loans were extremely risky as the king, pope, emperor or city council could not be made to pay once the loan was due, as the Bardi and Peruzzi of Florence will find out to their detriment. Hence most of these loans were heavily collateralised giving the bankers the right to collect taxes, to exploit mines or other sources of income, sometimes even castles or whole territories. Interest was very high, reflecting these risks, which meant, a lucky banker ended up being a very, very rich banker.

The usual estimate is that even an average Florentine banker in 1310 had more ready cash than our friend Henry VII. Which meant they had a lot, a lot more money than the aristocrats who were ruling their city. This difference in resources caused frictions, but the bigger issue was that the consuls did not run the city in the interest of the merchants and artisans.

A merchant and artisan may be a able to defend himself if need be with a sword, but that does not mean they wanted to fight wars for war’s sake. But War for war’s sake was very much the aristocratic raison d’etre. The other flashpoint was justice. A functioning system of courts that enforced contractual obligations was a key building block in any successful economy and hence a key concern for the burghers. The city aristocrats regarded justice as a source of income from fees and bribes.

Throughout the 13^th century burghers formed associations or guilds to represent their interests. And as the struggle between the aristocrats and the burghers grew fiercer the city constitutions changed. Many communes had already called people from outside as Podestas to police the city streets and issue justice since the late 12^th century. But now we also find many cities appointing a Capitano del Popolo who was to represent the interest of the people, aka the merchant and artisan classes. This role became ever more powerful as the merchants became ever more wealthy. 

These two opposing groups did at some point adopt the names of Ghibellines and Guelphs. The aristocrats would usually become Ghibellines and the burghers tended to be Guelphs. The word Ghibelline refers to the castle of Waiblingen near Stuttgart which was the name of Agnes, the ancestor of the Hohenstaufen and the name they actually used when referring to their own family. So these were in principle the supporters of the emperor. The word Guelph is an Italianate form of the name Welf, the family of Henry the Lion and alleged antagonists of the Hohenstaufen. Though the name referred again to a German family, the Guelphs allegiance lay not with them, but with the pope. Bankers were particularly prone to be Guelph since the papal curia was in constant need of cash and in return appointed the Lombard and Tuscan bankers as tax collectors for the increasingly sophisticated set of church levies.

But like everything else in these convoluted times, this is not 100% the case in each city, but not a bad yardstick.

As we head into the 14^th century a couple of things are happening. Unsurprisingly as the merchants and bankers get richer and richer, they gain the upper hand over the aristocratic oligarchs. More and more cities become Guelph. Most visibly in Tuscany where the hitherto modest settlement of Florence starts to dominate the region. In 1289 Florence and its Guelph allies beat the Ghibelline resistance based in Arezzo comprehensively.

But Guelph or Ghibelline became increasingly hollow slogans. The internal struggles over political allegiances turned into a competition between two dominant factions, each picking one of these names. Or in Florence where the anti-Ghibelline sentiment was strongest the main factions became the White and the Black Guelphs. White and black Guelphs goes back to a fight within the city of Pistoia between the children of the city leader from his first marriage who were older and whose hair had already turned white and the second set of children from a second marriage who were still young and sported some luscious black hair. Seemingly by 1300 hair colour was as relevant a criteria for political affiliation as support for the imperial or papal cause.

These fights for supremacy between two factions, each headed by a clan chief were as disruptive as the previous fights between aristocrats and merchants. One minor improvement was that the party which temporarily gained the upper hand would only execute a small number of their rivals and then  exile the other prominent members of the opposing faction. The reason for this leniency is pretty clear. Neither party had a distinctly different program to the other, hence cities were usually split fifty-fifty between the two factions. To be able to run the city the winning side still needed to be able to cooperate with the defeated faction and that meant they could not kill all their brothers, uncles cousins etc. The downside of this policy of casting out your opponents was that there was constantly a government in exile trying to ferment unrest inside the city and gathering support on the outside. This perennial fear of revolt forced the city rulers to spend vast amounts of money and effort to gain favours with the people. In Florence and Milan all the streets, not just the main square were paved, the courts were made impartial and staffed with professional judges trained at the great universities of Bologna and Pavia. And then there were the public works, the cathedrals and churches, the city halls and so on.

There we are. Every city in Italy experienced regular convulsions as one family was trying to overthrow the other, not to implement any particular policy, but solely to gain power. And that meant each city had a large band of exiles roaming the peninsula in search for an ally that would help them oust their opponents.

And these exiles now flocked to the court of Henry VII in their hundreds and thousands, all hoping he would bring them back into their home towns and restore them into their previous positions.

On November 11^th 1310 Henry VII arrived in Asti, the then most powerful city in Piedmont. Today the city is famous for truffles, wine and its Palio a bareback horse race around the triangular piazza Vittorio Alfieri. I only found out about this delightful combination just now and Asti went straight on to my bucket list.

But in the late Middle Ages Asti’s speciality wasn’t wine or truffles, but banking and civil war. The Solari family of bankers had recently taken control of the city and expelled their rivals, the Castelli. And guess who was in the entourage of Henry VII, the Castelli.

The Castelli were Ghibellines, as were the majority of exiles that had joined Henry VII in Turin. That wasn’t because Henry VII favoured the Ghibellines, but it was simply that the Ghibellines were losing almost everywhere and hence the chances of being exiled were a lot higher for a Ghibelline than it was for a Guelph.

Asti now  became the prototype of Henry VII’s new policy of peace and reconciliation. Upon arrival he gathered the whole population of the city on the square in front of the cathedral where he received the oath of allegiance of the city council and in return confirmed the city’s ancient rights and privileges and even offered further benefices should they behave well.

But as so often with prototypes, version 1 did not work out so well. It is not clear what happened that evening, but next morning, according to the chronicler of Asti, Henry VII no longer thought this was enough. So he called the whole population back on to the market square. His right hand man, Niccolo de Buonsignori declared that the emperor was not satisfied with just the overlordship of the city. Then a cheese merchant stood up and shouted “I suggest o Lord, that you should receive the unconstrained power over the city and contado of Asti”. The imperial representative shouted back instantly, “Those of you who agree with the words of the cheesemonger shall remain standing, the rest shall sit”. That led to an instant tumult, everybody jumped up, shouting and screaming, some yes, yes, but the majority no, no. Meanwhile the imperial notary concluded quite accurately that, since hardly anyone had sat down, the motion was carried and Henry VII was now the absolute ruler of Asti and its Contado.

Happy with version 2 of his grand project of peace and reconciliation Henry appointed Niccolo de Buonsignori to be the new podesta, capitano del Popolo and just overall bossman of Asti. Niccolo then told the Castelli and Solari to kiss and make up and as punishment for their obstinacy ordered the Solari and other Guelphs to provide funds to replenish the imperial purse.

The imperial purse, smaller as an average Florentine banker’s safe, was rapidly depleting as more and more exiles raced to his banner.

Initially the Italian supporters were more or less impecunious exiles, but after Henry had taken control of Asti, a veritable snowball effect set in. The rulers of Verona, the della Scale, headed by Can Grande, which literally means Big Dog, sent an embassy extolling their long and loyal service to the empire going back to Barbarossa, but which weirdly did not include any tax payments owed under the peace of Constance of 1183. But who cares, he was a big dog and he brought some pretty big men on big horses. The Pisans, most fiercely Ghibelline since time immemorial and sworn enemy of the Guelphs in Florence sent 60,000 ducats and a few hundred knights, promising the same sum should the emperor honour them with a visit.

And then the appeal widened and several Guelph city lords appeared. The rulers of Vercelli, of Pavia and of Lodi came to submit to Henry VII. By doing so these men defied the rulers of Lombardy’s largest and most powerful city, Milan. As the chronicler Albertinus Mussatus speculated they may have done that to please the king or out of fear of their fellow citizens at home who had been enthusiastically celebrating the return of imperial splendour. And they were not the only ones. More and more Guelph leaders came to believe that joining the imperial cause was the best way to preserve their position. And with every powerful family that joined Henry VII’s army, this logic became more and more convincing.

The one who was not yet convinced was Guido della Torre, currently capitano del Popolo and all in big cheese in Milan. The della Torre were Guelphs and had swapped control of Milan with the Ghibelline Visconti family since 1259 roughly every 10 years, culminating in the execution of 53 Visconti supporters by Napoleone della Torre which was followed by the capture, torture and murder of said Napoleone by the archbishop of Milan, Ottone Visconti. In 1302 Matteo Visconti who had taken over from his uncle the archbishop and had been recognised as imperial vicar by Adolf von Nassau was ousted by Guido della Torre who could rely on support in the surrounding cities of Pavia, Lodi, Cremona, Piacenza, Novara, Brescia, Bergamo etc.

Milan was largest city in Northern Italy at the time, the city of Saint Ambrose, a great commercial cnetre and by now the overlord of most of the surrounding cities including Novara, Vercelli, Brescia as well as Monza and Pavia, the traditional coronation sites for a king of the Lombards.

When Henry VII saw the lords of Pavia, Vercelli and Lodi riding into his camp, he realised that the hold of Milan over its neighbouring cities was crumbling and he could now go for the big prize and take his beta-tested reconciliation policy to the capital of Lombardy.

Guido della Torre wanted none of this. No reconciliation, no peace and above all, no return of the hated Visconti into his city. Henry VII therefore opted for a display of strength. He took his now much enlarged force and paraded it below the walls of Milan. And very visible amongst his men were the lords of Vercelli, of Pavia and of Lodi, the cities whose rulers had brought the della Torre back into Milan 9 years earlier and who may now well be able to bring Matteo Visconti back.

Still, della Torre refused. He had begun discussions with Florence whose radical Black Guelph leadership was organising resistance against Henry VII. And there was also king Robert of Naples down south. Ever since they had wiped out the Hohenstaufen the kings of Naples had become the dominant power on the peninsula and the leaders of the Guelphs. Their tentacles reached well into Lombardy and Piedmont where Asti ad Alessandria had once sworn allegiance to the Anjou. King Robert was also papal vicar in Romagna and Tuscany and Florence had once made him their Podesta. And Robert was a cousin of King Philipp IV of France who was increasingly concerned about the shenanigans his former vassal was getting himself into down there in Italy.

But time was pressing. Henry’s army was now camped out in Vercelli, a day and half’s ride from Milan. And worse Guido’s nephew, the archbishop of Milan hated him, hated him a lot and for good reason. Guido had his father thrown in jail to rot for fear of competition. The archbishop and the Visconti were gathering support inside the city of Milan whilst the lords of Pavia, Vercelli and Lodi worked on the remaining loyal cities of Brescia, Cremona, Como etc.

The standoff lasted 30 days. Guido hoped for reinforcement to come from Tuscany and the other Lombard cities, whilst Henry hoped that Guido’s regime would simply collapse under the external and internal pressures.

Finally time ran out for Henry. He needed to make a move if not because he was running out of cash. He took his army from Vercelli west of Milan and marched it towards Pavia which is just south of the great city. Della Torre thought his lucky day had come and the dreaded imperial force would head south to Rome, never to be heard of again. But at the last minute, Henry turned his forces east and marched towards Milan. Della Torre knew that the citizens weren’t prepared to fight a long and painful siege and his enemies inside would find a way to open the gates to the imperial army. He caved and invited Henry VII into the city and accepted the king as his rightful lord.

The conquest of Milan turned the snowball into an avalanche. One city after another swore allegiance to Henry. Brescia, Cremona, Bergamo, Vicenza, Padua as well as the communes of the Emilia Romagna came to hand over the keys to their cities and to receive a new governor chosen by Henry VII. Only the Tuscan allies of Florence and Bologna, largest of the cities in the Romagna refused and instead fortified their walls. Alessandria down in Piedmont also failed to send a delegation as it was occupied by a garrison of king Robert of Naples who is now going from being mildly concerned about the count of Luxemburg playing emperor up in savoy to full on panic stations.

Meanwhile Henry VII went from strength to strength. His entrance into Milan turned into a triumph. Accompanied by Guido della Torre, Matteo Visconti and the archbishop, three men who hated each other from the bottoms of their hearts and whose rivalry had brought untold misery to the population of Milan were now riding side by side guiding the future emperor, the bringer of peace and prosperity into Italy’s foremost city. 

To literally crown his success Henry VII planned the next act in this drama, emulating the great Charlemagne and many of his Ottonian, Salian and Hohenstaufen predecessors by putting  the iron crown of the Lombards on his head.

He invited all the important families of Italy to come to the church of St. Ambrogio, the venerable house of St. Ambrose on January 6, the festival of Epiphany, 1311 to witness his coronation. Initially there was a bit of confusion since nearby Monza would have been more appropriate or Pavia on account of its early submission to imperial suzerainty. But Henry insisted on St. Ambrogio in Milan.

And so the great festivity took place before an enthusiastic crowd of princes, nobles and common people. Crowned with the iron crown of Lombardy the king and his wife rode out into the crowd on horses clad in scarlet and purple cloth, he carrying a sceptre of gold that end in the shape of a lily in his right hand.

He is every inch the king, tall, with reddish blond hair that reminds the crowds of the Merovingian and Lombard rulers of old. He wears his hair in the gallic style, short in the back as you can see with most UK teenagers today. His perfectly symmetric shoulders sit atop a strong upper body and well proportioned legs and feet. He speaks slowly and rarely, usually in French but he has some mastery of Latin as well.

His wife, albeit already 36 years of age has maintained much of the beauty she was famed for in her youth. She is blond and of pale complexion, beautiful cheekbones, the top of her nose a little reddish, the mouth small, and she seems to be perennially smiling. She gives good council, knows how to put her arguments across and is in no way haughty. Indeed some have complained that her friendliness towards the lower classes goes beyond of what was appropriate for a queen and future empress.

A near perfect royal couple that had subdued Italy in merely 3 months, not by war, but by the promise of peace and prosperity brought to you by the just, the good emperor, the new Marcus Aurelius, Constantine or even Augustus.

There was however a little kink in all this royal splendour. The crown that Henry VII carried so majestically on his graceful head was not the actual iron crown of the Lombards the one that contains a nail of the Holy cross in an iron ring on the inside. That crown was nowhere to be found. The della Torre had pawned it years ago to fund one of their endless wars against the Visconti.

So a Milanese goldsmith was made to create a gilded wreath overnight that could passably be called a crown. And like this crown, the empire that Henry VII had built was a rushed affair, an overnight success, a snowball that had turned into an avalanche. Now summer is approaching when snow turns to water, and the crown’s gilded surface flakes exposing the base metal underneath.

How that will go is what we will talk about next week. I hope you will join us again.

And just before I go, please remember that the History of the Germans is advertising free thanks to the generosity of our patrons and you can become a patron too by signing up at patreon.com/historyofthegermans or on historyofthegermans.com/support

The Luxemburgs become Kings of Bohemia

Henry, the new king of the Romans, just 30 years of age, tall and blond, every inch his forebearer the great Charlemagne had a one track mind. There was one thing he wanted and that was the imperial crown.

It is now 60 years since there last had been a crowned emperor. We had such an interregnum before, in the 10^th century between the death of emperor Berengar of Friuli, yes, me neither, and the coronation of Otto the Great in 962. This, even shorter gap, had resulted in the transfers of the imperial honour from the Carolingians to the rulers of the German Lands.

It was high time to go to Rome and be crowned emperor. Otherwise more people will ask as John of Salisbury had:  Who appointed the Germans to be judges over the peoples of the earth? Who gave these brutish, unruly people the arbitrary authority to elect a ruler over the heads of the people?

But to get to Rome for a medieval imperial coronation requires more than just picking up a plane ticket. First our new Barbarossa needs to assert his position in the empire, gather followers for the journey and establish peace and justice. He needs to convince the pope to send an invitation and the king of France not to send an army to stop him. Most of all he needs to calm down the Empire sufficiently so that it does not fall into anarchy whilst he is away.

And whilst he is busy making peace between the warring factions, convincing them that all he cares about is being semper Augustus, always augmenting the empire and reassuring everyone that he is not just enriching his family as his predecessors had done, that is when he walks away with the most valuable prize of them all, the kingdom of Bohemia.

TRANSCRIPT

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans, Season 8, Episode 145 – How to make Friends and Influence People – The Luxemburgs become Kings of Bohemia

Henry, the new king of the Romans, just 30 years of age, tall and blond, every inch his forebearer the great Charlemagne had a one track mind. There was one thing he wanted and that was the imperial crown.

It is now 60 years since there last had been a crowned emperor. We had such an interregnum before, in the 10^th century between the death of emperor Berengar of Friuli, yes, me neither, and the coronation of Otto the Great in 962. This, even shorter gap, had resulted in the transfers of the imperial honour from the Carolingians to the rulers of the German Lands.

It was high time to go to Rome and be crowned emperor. Otherwise more people will ask as John of Salisbury had:  Who appointed the Germans to be judges over the peoples of the earth? Who gave these brutish, unruly people the arbitrary authority to elect a ruler over the heads of the people?

But to get to Rome for a medieval imperial coronation requires more than just picking up a plane ticket. First our new Barbarossa needs to assert his position in the empire, gather followers for the journey and establish peace and justice. He needs to convince the pope to send an invitation and the king of France not to send an army to stop him. Most of all he needs to calm down the Empire sufficiently so that it does not fall into anarchy whilst he is away.

And whilst he is busy making peace between the warring factions, convincing them that all he cares about is being semper Augustus, always augmenting the empire and reassuring everyone that he is not just enriching his family as his predecessors had done, that is when he walks away with the most valuable prize of them all, the kingdom of Bohemia.

But before we start let me remind you that the history of the Germans podcast is advertising free thanks to the generosity of our patrons. And you can become a patron too by signing up on patreon.com/historyofthegermans or by making a one-time donation at historyofthegermans.com/support. Today I want to thank Marco M., Pat S., Raphael A., Tim W., Zac D. and Maxime de Hennin who have already signed up.

Now back to the show

On November 27^th 1308, the archbishops of Trier, Cologne and Mainz, the Count Palatinate on the Rhine, the Margrave of Brandenburg and the duke of Saxony as well as a great many princes of the German Lands gathered in the monastery of the Dominicans in Frankfurt. There they elected count Henry VII of Luxembourg unanimously. They praised him as “a man of peace and justice”, a warrior whose fame resonated throughout the whole of the land.  Another chronicler noted more soberly, quote “the cities were for him because he created good laws for merchants and travellers in his domain, the nobility because he was a capable warrior and had proven this in many places, especially in the fight against the Flemish”.

Upon the acclamation as King of the Romans, Semper Augustus and future emperor, the princes presented Henry VII to the people who again broke out in jubilation. The whole throng then entered the Dominican church where he was seated on the high altar. There is an illuminated manuscript produced at the court of Henry’s brother Balduin, the archbishop of Trier that depicts the scene. In that image it looks as if the new king was slotted into place by two archbishops, as if he was their puppet rather than their mighty temporal lord.

There is no mention of great festivities following the solemn inauguration, but it would be almost inconceivable that the emperor would not throw a massive banquet for the people to mark his elevation from count to successor of the great Hohenstaufen emperors. In later centuries these festivities would involve the roasting of many oxen, filled with the legendary Frankfurter sausage, though the Frankfurter made with mix of beef and pork you can get everywhere in the world is a fake invented in Vienna in 1805, which is why the Germans call that one a Wiener Würstel. This and more about the history of Frankfurt is going to be subject to a separate episode in a few weeks’ time.

Once the Oxen and the real Frankfurters had been consumed, the minstrels had downed their instruments and the last of the revellers had stumbled home, it was payday. The next few days the now King Henry VII signed one charter after another granting the various electors this or that privilege, handing over imperial lands to people he owed for his election and making solemn promises about his future behaviour.

The electors presumably took these beautifully written and properly witnessed charters and put them in the box with the same promises they had received from King Adolf von Nassau, who had disregarded them and with those from King Albrecht I von Habsburg who had disregarded them too.  And then hoped for the best.  

40 days later on January 6^th 1309 saw the solemn coronation of the new king in Aachen. We do not know who, apart for the three archbishops had come to the event. There is one source that talks about 20 archbishops, 112 bishops, 20 dukes, 60 counts and 100 barons as well as countless knights who would then be invited to celebrations lasting a full 25 days.  That would have stripped Western europe of practically all its senior princes for almost a month, so sadly untrue. But still most likely another great festivity and opportunity for Henry to shake hands and reassure people of his sincere friendship and support.

The next stop on Henry’s journey was the royal city of Cologne, where he held a great diet, attended, again, by many princes of the realm, counts, knights and burghers who came to swear allegiance to the new ruler and have their rights and privileges generously confirmed.

From Cologne the journey goes to the next place of imperial significance, the cathedral city of Speyer, burial place of the kings and emperors. Again he holds court, issues judgements and grants rights and privileges.

Next his route takes him south through Alsace, to Basel, Berne, Zurich and Constance. Then north again to Nurnberg. Everywhere he goes he gladhands the local nobility, reassures the burghers  of the imperial cities of his protection and shows the generosity, the Milte of a High medieval ruler.

I guess you may have noticed already that there is something quite profoundly different in the way Henry VII is approaching his role compared to his two predecessors. Adolf and Albrecht had almost instantly sought to leverage their position into an increase in land and military resources, fully prepared for the inevitable confrontation with the princes and the electors. Henry VII takes a very different route. He looks to become a universally accepted ruler, a first amongst equals who brings peace through good judgements and reconciliation. The last time this had been attempted was by Frederick Barbarossa in the early years of his reign.

And for that strategy to work, like Barbarossa, Heny must show his vassals that he acts solely in the interest of the realm and that he most certainly will not go and seize every vacant fief for himself or his family.

Which leaves the question what Henry VII wanted to get out of his new title and powers, if not the expansion of his family’s lands inside the empire north of the Alps.

Older historians have argued that Henry VII was a romantic, naïve man who intended to emulate Barbarossa not just in his policies in the German lands, but also in his overall strategy. He was, they believed, hankering after the riches of Lombardy and so again entangling the empire in the intractable Italian affairs.

They were right at least as far as the geographical direction was concerned, he indeed wanted to go to Italy. And that he stated right from the beginning, in his first speech on the day of his coronation. All he did in the subsequent 2 years was preparing for a Romzug, a journey to Rome.

But the reasons for this move were subtly different. In Barbarossa’s days the empire’s hold on the kingdoms of Burgundy and Italy may have been tenuous, but was not really disputed by other powers. By 1309 that had changed. The French king was expanding his territory all along the western border of the empire. In particular the old kingdom of Burgundy was under constant strain. The Franche Comte, once part of the dowry of empress Beatrix was now de facto under control of Philipp the Fair’s son Charles. The king of France even sent troops into Lyon, nominally an imperial city. The kingdom of the Arelat had been on the negotiation table several times these last few decades. In Italy the Angevins, cousins of the French king held the kingdom of Naples and exerted their power north into Rome, the papal states and the Romagna.

Persistent rumours had been circulating in the empire that Henry’s predecessors had offered abandoning the right to the imperial crown in exchange for papal endorsement for the creation of a hereditary regnum Teutonicum, a kingdom of the Germans. Not much truth may have been in these stories, but they were reflected enthusiastically by writers and thinkers outside the empire. Many argued like John of Salisbury who had said: “Who appointed the Germans to be judges over the peoples of the earth? Who gave these brutish, unruly people the arbitrary authority to elect a ruler over the heads of the people? End quote.

As the empire’s power waned following the death of Frederick II such voices gained more and more strength. In particular the popes could not see the need for an emperor, now that the leadership of Christendom had so comprehensively been concentrated in the hands of the Holy Father. Pope Boniface VIII declared in 1300 that “We are emperor” and some years later pope John XXII stated that Italy had no connection to the Kingdom of the Germans.

Equally from a French perspective it became increasingly hard to understand why the most powerful monarchy in europe, a monarchy that traces its roots to Charlemagne was denied the imperial title, leaving it to the disunited people on the eastern side of the Rhine and their feeble shadow of a king.

Historic research has found no evidence that there had been any papal-French conspiracy to actually deprive the prince electors of the right to choose the future emperor, but that does not mean the Holy Roman Empire as I was, wasn’t under sever threat.

And these concerns must have weighed even more on someone like Henry VII whose homeland was on the western side of the empire and who had grown up at the French court. He had seen first hand how capable the Capetian system was in translating flimsy legal documents into tangible positions of power. And how the French monarchs were able to play the long game. This may be the second time they have failed to gain the election of one of their own as king of the Romans but how many more times can they be rebuffed. And what stops Philipp IV from picking up pope Clement V, put him on a ship and go down to Rome with him and get crowned emperor, sixty years after the last emperor had been excommunicated and deposed?

And what could the French lawyers do with the Codex Iuris of the emperor Justinian that declared the emperor to be omnipotent, his word to be law across the whole of Christendom? At a minimum, the old duchy of Lothringia and with it Henry’s homeland of Luxemburg would brought under vassalage to the French crown, no longer an imperial principality with all the freedoms and rights that entailed.

So from Henry’s perspective it was vital to get down to Rome now, not just to secure the succession of his son, as his predecessors had focused on, but for the sake of the empire, his inherited principality and his family.

So, from the first day of his reign, Henry VII planned his journey to Rome. Everything was driven by this objective.

And Henry had a couple of reasons to believe he could achieve what his predecessors had failed to do.

The first obstacle the others had encountered had been papal resistance or if not outright resistance than exaggerated demands to give up the imperial right over the Romagna or Tuscany. But in 1309 the situation was somewhat favourable.

Henry VII had met pope Clement V personally when he served at the French court. They weren’t firm friends, but on several occasions the pope had indicated to Henry’s friends and associates that he rated the young man. And we should not forget that Clement V’s lacklustre support for Charles of Valois candidacy had been one of the reasons the electors could elect Henry in the first place.

The relationship seemingly warmed and a delegation, led by count Amadeus of Savoy, the dauphin of Vienne, the count of Saarbrucken and the bishops of Chur and Basel was sent to obtain a formal invitation to come to Rome. It is telling that the people Henry sent bear names we have not heard much of in the last 100 episodes. All of them were from the kingdom of Burgundy or the western border of the empire. Their territories had gradually fallen off the radar of the emperors and been increasingly pulled into the sphere of French influence. But they were Henry VII’s neighbours and relatives, people he knew best and who could speak, not only on his behalf but also on behalf of the parts of the empire under threat of French encroachment.

Their mission prove a success. On July 26, 1309 Clement V announced that upon review of the election documents he, in consultation with his brother cardinals, recognises his most beloved son, the elected Henry to be king and that he deemed it fit and proper for him to be elevated to emperor. He would be crowning Henry in St. Peters Basilica in Rome on the day of the Purification of the Holy Virgin, February 2, 1312. He even apologised for not being able to come earlier, due to an important church council.

That was a great achievement for Henry’s embassy and a bold move by Clement V. At this point in time the French king Philip the Fair who had Clement more or less in his power had not yet made any noises as to whether he supported his former vassal’s plans to become emperor. In the days before the move of the church from Italy to France, the French-leaning popes had pretty much outright refused to crown a king of the Romans.

Clement V’s declaration is an act of defiance, an attempt of the papacy to wiggle out of the clutches of the French rulers.

As anyone who has ever been invited to a fancy party in Rome knows, getting the invite is a big thing, but then you still have to find a way to get there.

And for a future emperor getting the Ryanair flight for 29.99 excluding luggage, seating and food was not an option. A future emperor has to arrive looking like he is already an emperor. He needs an entourage, preferably a whole army, expensive gifts, crowns and a lot of bling. Henry VII had the kind of entourage, expensive gifts and bling commensurate with his position of an imperial prince, but that is not even remotely in the same league. So, from the day he received the invitation from Clement V he began collecting friends and allies willing to take the arduous journey with him. And the friends and allies would only be able to join him if they could be sure that their lands would not be attacked by Henry’s enemies whilst they were away.

So, Henry picked up his non-existent copy of “How to make Friends and Influence People” and got to work. First up, he makes friends with the Wittelsbachs, the count Palatinate and the duke of Bavaria. The Wittelsbachs were the most powerful family after the kings of Bohemia and pretty much on par with the Habsburgs. And they had tried to get one of their own in as king of the romans and had been rejected three times already. So they needed to be appeased. To that effect Henry VII offered them an alliance underpinned by a marriage proposal and a busload of cash.

Then we have the Habsburgs. The descendants of Rudolf and Albrecht had now been in possession of Austria and Styria for plus minus 30 years, but still their position was not as robust as they may have hoped. Not too long ago Adolf von Nassau had tried to dislodge them using some viable legal arguments. So Henry promised them to reconfirm their enfeoffment with the two duchies, declared the murderer Johann Parricida an outlaw, staged a splendid funeral for Albrecht I in Speyer Cathedral and threw in a couple of thousand silver coins to seal the bargain. Still things did not go quite as smoothly as hoped because some rugged peasants in the alpine valleys at the bottom of the Gotthard pass had risen up against Habsburg rule in anger – something about little boys and apples apparently. Henry VII felt compelled to grant these guys immediacy, in other words released them from the Habsburg overlordship. Surely we will never hear of these guys ever again – or probably in a few weeks in a special episode. In any event this nearly led to a breakdown in negotiations. With a bit more smoothing and finesse however, Henry managed to achieve a standstill agreement with Frederick the Handsome and his brothers. All was good there.

Then he allowed king Adolf of Nassau whose body had been dumped on a monastery near Speyer by Albrecht I to be buried with full honours in Speyer cathedral which gave him some kudos with Adolf’s admittedly small group of friends and followers.

That leaves the two largest remaining issues, Thuringia and Bohemia.

Thuringia plus the margraviate of Meissen  had been claimed first by Adolf von Nassau and then by Albrecht von Habsburg. What irritated the noble houses of the empire about that was for one the potential increase in wealth and power of whoever got hold of these at least technically very wealthy lands. But even more concerning was that these lands had been seized despite legitimate heirs to the previous prince, Albrecht the Degenerate were alive and kicking. If that precedent was to stand, the whole system of inheritable principalities was at risk. So Henry formally renounced all royal claims to the territory and signed a peace agreement with the heirs to the house of Wettin.

Now finally we get to Bohemia. You may remember that the old Slavic dynasty of the Premyslids had  died out when king Wenceslaus III had been murdered. The nobles of Bohemia had then chosen Henry of Carinthia, the brother in law of the last king to wear the crown of Saint Wenceslaus. That had brought the Habsburgs into the game. King Albrecht I as king of the Romans declared Bohemia a vacant fief and expelled Henry of Carinthia. Albrecht’s son Rudolf, he of the sensitive stomach then became king. That same Rudolf succumbed to his digestive ailment shortly after that and the ousted Henry of Carinthia returned to Bohemia. That setback did not discourage Albrecht I who was in the process of gathering an army to oust henry of Carinthia a second time when he was murdered by his nephew.

Therefore in 1308 Henry of Carinthia was sitting in Prague as king of Bohemia. Henry of Carinthia had been the only Prince elector who had not voted for Henry VII, neither in person nor by sending an ambassador. That made it awkward, but since nobody really questioned the election outcome not a serious impediment to a journey to Rome. As far as the king of the Romans was concerned, Bohemia did not pose a problem.  

But it became his problem when a delegation from the nobles of Bohemia approached him at a diet in Heilbronn in June 1309. Things in Bohemia they reported had taken a bad turn. Henry of Carinthia had locked horns with the high aristocracy and the clergy of the kingdom. As far as I understand, Bohemia was a difficult realm to run. The golden King, Ottokar II was only known by his gilded moniker outside his homeland, back in Bohemia he was known as the iron king for the harshness of his regime. And when he came under pressure from Rudolf I, the people rose up against him. Rebellion was and remained in the Bohemian blood and – as most of you probably know – will manifest at crucial moments in the history of the Holy Roman Empire, usually involving people falling out of windows. This time there were no windows involved as far as I know, but still Henry of Carinthia faced an ever mounting opposition.

The delegation from Prague had come to ask for help in preventing a civil war. Should the Carinthian be toppled by the nobles, the Habsburgs would almost certainly get involved in a Bohemian conflict, which in turn would force other princes to support Henry of Carinthia just to keep the acquisitive Habsburgs in check. And then there would not be anyone spare to come to Rome, leaving aside the issue that Henry’s prestige as the guarantor of peace and justice would vanish down the drain.

Henry was lucky enough that one of his closest advisors and supporters, the archbishop of Mainz, Peter von Aspelt had been a close advisor of the Premyslid kings of Bohemia, knew the political landscape well and commanded the respect of the parties involved.

Peter von Aspelt, Henry VII and the Bohemian representatives negotiated a deal. Henry VII would declare Bohemia a vacant fief on the grounds that Henry of Carinthia had no right to inheritance and had lost the support of the nobles and people of Bohemia. Then one of the remaining available Premyslid princesses, Elisabeth, would marry a member of the House of Luxembourg. The nobles and people of Bohemia would then elect this person as king of Bohemia, Henry would sanction the election and enfeoff him, Henry of Carinthia would be thrown out and with that the problem was solved.

In July 1310 at a diet in Frankfurt, Henry obtained the consent of the imperial princes and in particular of the Prince electors to depose Henry of Carinthia and allow Henry VII to enfeoff the kingdom to one of his relatives. At that point the person everybody had in mind for the future king of Bohemia was Walram, Henry VII’s brother, a choice the prince electors in particular could live with.

Only after the electors had consented did the Bohemians turn around and insisted that it should not be Walram, but Henry VII’s oldest son, John they wanted to marry Elisabeth and become king. The most likely reason for the switch was that John was only 14 at the time and hence more susceptible to the influence of the Bohemian magnates.

Elizabeth was brought across from Prague to marry little John in Speyer Cathedral on September 1, 1310. Henry VII set off for Rome just 20 days later, sparing but a tiny contingent of soldiers for his son’s campaign to acquire Bohemia. It fell to Peter von Aspelt and others to organise the campaign in Bohemia that would bring the House of Luxembourg one of the richest territories not just in the empire but in the whole of europe, the material basis on which their 130 year long reign over the empire was based.

Again, many historians looked at this move by Henry VII with astonishment. How could he leave this lucrative campaign in the balance for a wild adventure in the south and some imperial bling. But to me it makes perfect sense. Gaining the imperial crown was the #1 objective at this point and for good reason. Moreover, if Henry VII had gotten himself involved in the Bohemian campaign, redirecting the resources gathered for the coronation journey towards the enhancement of his family fortunes, where would that left his political position. The princes would have turned around and concluded he was no different from Adolf and Albrecht and hence would have contested the Bohemian crown. By walking away and leaving one of the Prince electors, the archbishop of Mainz no less in charge makes this look like a campaign run by the empire for the empire, not a campaign run by the emperor for his own personal benefit.

On September 20, 1310 at Colmar father and son together with their wives have a last meal. The codex Balduini shows the scene the next morning when Henry and John share a last embrace before each sets off with their respective armies to meet their respective destinies.

The army Henry VII led to Italy counted some 5,000 men. The days when all the imperial princes owed the newly elected king service on his way to Rome are long past. For this undertaking Henry has to rely heavily on friends and family. First and most prominently there are his brothers,  Balduin, the archbishop of Trier and Walram von Luxemburg and his brother in law, count Amadeus of Savoy. There were old allies from the western side of the empire, including three counts of Flanders and counts and knights from the imperial territories in Swabia and Franconia. The bishops of Augsburg, Basel, Constance, Genf, Eichstaett, Liege, Trient and Chur as well as a few abbots came along too, not only for spiritual support. Of the great imperial princes, only Leopold of Austria joins for the whole endeavour.

This army has often been described as small, and it is true that this force was smaller than the forces Barbarossa or Henry VI had taken into their wars with Milan and Sicily. But this was not meant to be a campaign of conquest. Henry VII had come upon the invitation of pope Clement V.. He had been negotiating with the Italian cities for months ahead of the trip and could expect safe passage down to Rome. The army was there to display the power of the new emperor and to break the occasional resistance one had to expect in these uncertain times.

The army travels via Berne, Murten and Lausanne to the pass of Mont Cenis. From there they descend into Piedmont and arrive in Count Amadeus of Savoy’s capital, the city of Turin in the first week of November 1310. News of the arrival of an emperor spreads like wildfire.

Dante Aligheri writes a letter calling him “the comfort of the nations, and the glory of thy people”. He was not alone in hoping that finally after 60 years a prince of peace returns to Italian soil, a land riven with divisions, caught in a near perennial civil war between Guelphs and Ghibellines, a land abandoned by the papacy.

From all we heard so far, our hero, Henry VII is the man for the job. He will sort out Italy once and for all, or will he? Find out next week when we follow Henry there and back again…   

Before I go, just remember, to sign up as a patron go to patreon.com/historyofthegermans or historyodthegermans.com/support

The election of emperor Henry VII

On November 27^th, 1308 the prince electors chose Henry VII, count of Luxemburg to be their new king of the Romans and future emperor. Little did they know that this decision will give rise to a dynasty that will rule the empire for as many decades as the Ottonian, the Salian and the Hohenstaufen had. A dynasty that featured such emblems of chivalric pride as the blind king John of Bohemia, builders of cities and empires like Charles IV and finally, in a faint mirror image of the height of medieval imperial power, an emperor who engineers the deposition of three popes and the appointment of a new one, whilst foreshadowing the wars of religion by murdering the reformer Jan Hus.

Today’s episode explores the backstory of the house of Luxemburg who have been around since Carolingian times. They were the “Where is Wally“ of the rich tapestry of High Medieval History, always somewhere in the picture, but never really in the foreground. Two women feature highly, the empress Kunigunde, wife of emperor Henry II and Ermesinde, who successful ruled the county for 47 years.

But the real step up came when Henry VII, barely 30 years old and running a county much diminished after the disastrous battle of Worringen became the only viable candidate to kingship. How that happened is what we will talk about in this episode..

TRANSCRIPT

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 144 – The Rise of the House of Luxembourg

On November 27^th, 1308 the prince electors chose Henry VII, count of Luxemburg to be their new king of the Romans and future emperor. Little did they know that this decision will give rise to a dynasty that will rule the empire for as many decades as the Ottonian, the Salian and the Hohenstaufen had. A dynasty that featured such emblems of chivalric pride as the blind king John of Bohemia, builders of cities and empires like Charles IV and finally, in a faint mirror image of the height of medieval imperial power, an emperor who engineers the deposition of three popes and the appointment of a new one, whilst foreshadowing the wars of religion by murdering the reformer Jan Hus.

Today’s episode explores the backstory of the house of Luxemburg who have been around since Carolingian times. They were the “Where is Wally“ of the rich tapestry of High Medieval History, always somewhere in the picture, but never really in the foreground. Two women feature highly, the empress Kunigunde, wife of emperor Henry II and Ermesinde, who successful ruled the county for 47 years.

But the real step up came when Henry VII, barely 30 years old and running a county much diminished after the disastrous battle of Worringen became the only viable candidate to kingship. How that happened is what we will talk about in this episode..

But before we start let me remind you that the history of the Germans podcast is advertising free thanks to the generosity of our patrons. And you can become a patron too by signing up on patreon.com/historyofthegermans or by making a one-time donation at historyofthegermans.com/support. Today I want to thank Loredana B., Charles D.W., Jordan R., Barry L., Ryan C.L. and Jakob H., relentless supporter of the show across all social media. Thank you all.

Now, back to the show

Last week we ended with a thud, when Johann Parricida’s sword cracked open the skull of his uncle, King Albrecht I from the House of Habsburg. Albrecht I had been 53 years old, old by the standards of the time, but still two years younger than his father had been when he had become king of the Romans.

Albrecht I had not made much of an effort to ensure the succession of his eldest surviving son, Friedrich, called the handsome. That may have been because Albrecht did not expect his demise to be imminent or he did not believe he could achieve a durable succession without having received an imperial coronation.

But even if he had made an effort to secure some votes in the event of his demise, he is unlikely to have had great success. It was only 7 years ago that he had fought an outright war with the Rhenish electors, the archbishops of Cologne, Trier and Mainz and the Count Palatinate on the Rhine. Furthermore, the man currently occupying the Bohemian throne and its voting rights, Henry of Carinthia, was at war with Albrecht at the time he was murdered.

So with Friedrich the Handsome out of the running, the now usual horse trading began. Despite the rather underwhelming success rate so far, the electors were keen to again elect someone of modest financial and military means as the new king and again make him sign over all and everything he would need to be an effective ruler.

This time the pope was brought in the loop right from the outset to avoid another upset of the Roman Curia that firmly believed it was their right to determine the new emperor in waiting.

Whilst the electors, specifically the three archbishops went through the list of malleable counts, a rather unexpected party through its hat into the ring. King Philipp IV the Fair of France suggested his brother, Charles of Valois would make an excellent king of the Romans and future emperor. Philipp the Fair had tried to secure his brother a crown already twice before, in Aragon and in Byzantium but had been rebuffed. But undeterred he supported Charles’ campaign with soft words and hard cash.

If the electors did not want any of the powerful imperial princes to pick up the crown, they certainly did not want to become the satellite of the most powerful monarch in Europe. But getting out of this conundrum required a lot of skilled diplomacy. As France had gradually been expanding west as we have mentioned last episode, Philipp the Fair and his predecessor had established close links to the three archbishops whose territories were fairly close to the border.

Pope Clement V too was put on the spot by this proposal. Clement had become pope in 1305 two years after Boniface VIII had been slapped in the face and the imperial papacy had crumbled to the floor with him. He was a Frenchman and according to Giorgio Villani had become bound to king Philipp the Fair even before his election. His coronation took place in Lyon and he spent most of his time in Poitiers, very much within reach of the French monarch and his armour-clad thugs. Clement V had to agree to Philipp’s persecution of the Knight’s Templars and on many other occasions was at the French king’s back and call.

Therefore when Philipp the Fair came to Poitiers and asked him to endorse his brother’s candidature to become king of the Romans, Clement V had no choice but to issue a proclamation encouraging the electors to act unanimously and hinted at a preference for Charles of Valois. But he was reluctant to issue an outright recommendation for Charles adding even more power to the family of his jailor. By leaving out the name, Clement V signaled to the electors that their choice could be approved by the papacy even if they had chosen someone else.

That opened up room for an alternative to the Frenchman, but who could fit into that role without creating outright hostilities with France. It had to be someone who was not threatening to the electors, amenable to the pope and close enough to Philipp the Fair that he would drop his brother’s candidature.

The only recently elected archbishop of Trier, Balduin, suggested his brother, Henry, the count of Luxembourg.

On November 27^th, 1308 Henry, count of Luxemburg was unanimously elected king in Frankfurt and he was crowned in Aachen on January 6. The pope acknowledged him on January 11^th and with that the House of Luxemburg finally rose to the royal title.

Which gets us to the question, who is this Henry, the seventh of his name to become count of Luxemburg ,king of the Romans, and emperor and why was he the only square peg that fit into that round hole?.

Though he was “only” (in inverted commas) a count, he was a very different kind of count to count Rudolf von Habsburg and count Adolf von Nassau.

The Luxemburgs were a family that went back to the time of the Carolingians. In the year 963 a certain Siegried, a man of noble descent acquired the Lucilinburuh by way of an exchange with the imperial monastery of St. Maximin near Trier. Lucilinburuh grew over the centuries into what we know today as the city of Luxemburg, capital of the Grand Duchy of Luxemburg.

As careful listeners will remember from two episodes ago, the current grand dukes of Luxemburg are descendants of King Adolf von Nassau, Henry VII’s predecessor but one.

The medieval counts of Luxemburg were a different family and their story starts well before that. The father of Siegfried had been count palatinate of Lothringia for emperor Charles the Simple. His mother was the granddaughter of the West Francian king Louis the Stammerer. Siegried’s brother was bishop of Metz and another brother was a close friend of emperor Otto the Great.

Basically the Luxemburgers were part of the high aristocracy of the empire, cousins of anyone who was anyone on the left shore of the Rhine. In the centuries that followed the House of Luxemburg was the “Where is Wally” of the tableau of medieval imperial history. At all times there would be a member of the family somewhere in the picture, sometimes closer to the centre, sometimes a little bit removed from the imperial court, but always there. In our podcast, the so far most prominent family member to feature had been Kunigunde, daughter of the aforementioned Siegfried and the wife of emperor Henry II. Kunigunde would be made a saint in in 1199 for her excessive generosity to the church. Beyond her religious devotion, Kunigunde had also played a very active political role, including running the duchy of Bavaria for a while, before handing it over to her brother, another Henry. Bavaria did however not stay in the family as Kunigunde’s brother fell out with emperor Henry II. For details, listen to the episodes 17 to 19.

The next time a Luxemburger made it onto the pages of HotGPod was in the election of Hermann von Salm as antiking against emperor Henry IV. Hermann was a younger son of the count of Luxemburg and hence lacked the means to be a credible threat to the emperor, so vanished from the story quite quickly.

So, before 1308 the Luxemburgs had their hands in the game, but they had never really made it into the big, big league. They had been dukes of Bavaria and at some point also dukes of Lower Lothringia, but they could not hold on to these positions.

Under the Salinas and then the Hohenstaufen, the Luxemburgs withdrew from imperial high politics and focused on expanding and consolidating their princely territory. And they were pretty good at it. Their medieval principality comprised significant parts of modern day Luxemburg and their main residence, the castle of Luxemburg became a focal point for the state. 

This territorialization process had broadly two components. One was to acquire as many territories as possible from the other local powers. In the case of the Luxemburgs, this was first and foremost their immediate neighbor, the archbishop of Trier and the immensely well endowed monasteries of St. Maximin and Stavelot. The dukes of Brabant and the counts of Flanders were major players as was the archbishop of Cologne. Smaller players were the counts of Namur, Berg, Julich, Cleves, Geldern, the bishops of Liege  and I have probably forgotten a few.

The most promising opportunities arose when one of the local families died out. Since everyone was related to everyone, it was ultimately a question of who had the bigger guns.

The Luxemburgs had periods of great success followed by periods of abject failure. One of these periods of success was unusually for the time overseen by a woman, the countess Ermesinde. Ermesinde was born the daughter and only child of count Henry IV who died fairly soon after her birth. Being the heiress of a wealthy county, she was quickly married. Though she wasn’t able to rule the county in her own right, her husbands, who had the decency to die quickly left her the run of the place. Ermesinde remained in charge of the county of Luxemburg for almost 50 years and thanks to her astute policy of territorial consolidation, by the 1240s Luxemburg was though small but a very coherent entity. She established a central bureaucracy and new judicial and administrative districts. Judges and other officers became salaried officials replacing the inherited structures that prevailed to that point. She granted city rights to Luxemburg, Echternach and Thionville. And she established an advisory council of nobles that helped tie the local powerful families to the princely house.

All in, Luxemburg was well on its way to become an early modern state.

Things took a turn for the worst forty years after Ermesinde’s death at the battle of Worringen (1288). This battle had been the great showdown of all the players in the region which is today Belgium, Luxemburg and the parts of Germany east of the Rhine. War had broken out over the succession to the duchy of Limburg and the Luxemburgs had joined a coalition led by the archbishop of Cologne in the hope to get a juicy piece of this rich inheritance. As it happened, their side lost, and they lost badly. Moreover, the brunt of the blow fell on the Luxemburgs themselves. Count Henry VI and three of his brothers as well as many of his vassals perished. The heir to the county, our Henry VII, the future king of the Romans was just 9 years old when that happened. For the next six years a guardian took care of the county of Luxemburg.

Henry VII was sent to Paris to be educated at the court of king Philipp the Fair.

By the late 13^th century Paris had become the cultural center of Europe. The splendor of the royal court had no rival. Just go to the Sainte Chapelle, the private chapel built by king Louis IX, to house the crown of thorns he had brought back from the Holy land and you get a sense of its magnificence and wealth.

But it wasn’t just the castles and palaces. France had become the trendsetter for chivalric culture, determining the way a noble was supposed to behave. Its chanson de Geste had a huge influence on the German Minnesang. Whilst German courts did not yet speak French, the French language was considered not quite as prestigious as Latin, but close enough.

Paris also had its university where until recently the great Thomas Aquinas had reshaped theology. The university was a truly international place. Internally the university was organized by nations, the French nation including all speakers of Romanesque languages, the English, later called the German nation that comprised the people who spoke Germanic and Slavic languages, which included the British isles and Scandinavia. The other two nations were the Picards and the Normans. Alongside the well known university colleges of the Sorbonne and d’Harcourt were the college de Navarre for students from Navarre, a Danish, three Swedish colleges and a Scottish and a German one.

French culture and the still relatively new Gothic style of architecture that had first appeared at St. Denis outside Paris was being adopted all throughout Europe, but most enthusiastically in England and Germany. Like many other German Gothic cathedrals, the Dom in Cologne was inspired by a French cathedral, in that case the cathedral of Amiens. Ironically some of Germany’s most famous  medieval artworks, the sculptures of the donors at Naumburg Cathedral and the Bamberg rider were the works of craftsmen trained in the great cathedral workshops of Reims, Amiens or Noyon.

This cultural draw of France that began in the 13^th century would endure well into the 20^th century. We would call that soft power today. And as today, being able to draw in the most curious and the most ambitious from far and wide and leaving them with an affinity to their host country was a substantial source of influence abroad.

Henry VII was such an ambitious and curious young man. Though he had been sent to Paris aged 9 by his guardian, he would spend large amounts of time at the court of king Philipp the Fair until his election to king of the Romans. He accompanied the French king on his campaign against the English in 1294 to 1297 and was knighted by him. On that occasion he swore allegiance to the French monarch. This oath as a vassal was repeated several times. He had also sworn allegiance to king Adolf von Nassau when he had reached adulthood. And yes, at least technically King Adolf von Nassau was an ally of the English in the war where young Henry supported the French side.

It was not unusual at this time that aristocrats swore allegiance to two masters. In particular nobles whose lands were near the border often held fiefs on either side, so owing allegiance to two different rulers. That meant that in case the two masters were at war with each other, the noble was expected to remain neutral or send troops to both lords in line with their obligations as vassals.

What surprised contemporaries and later chroniclers was that Henry VII swore an oath to defend the borders of France against all and everyone, which would have included his liege lord, the king of the Romans. A commitment that bordered on high treason.

This closeness to France cannot be explained solely by the delights of gay Parris. Henry VII as we will find was an astute politician and quite capable to see where his best opportunities lay. And those opportunities lay in Paris, not at the courts of Adolf of Nassau or Albrecht von Habsburg. For one thing he could observe at close quarters how Philipp IV operated. Using his lawyers trained in Bologna and Montpellier, Philipp absorbed one smallish territory after another on his border with the empire, moving the goalposts methodically and patiently eastwards one baronetcy at a time.  This had been the MO of the Capetian monarchs for hundreds of years now and they have become really, really good at it. As far as Henry could make out, it was only a question of time before Luxembourg would be French and in that case it was better to be close to the king of France than fighting for an empire that was coming apart at the seams.

And Philipp IV rewarded him and his family for his loyalty. First he organized his marriage to Margarete, the daughter of the duke of Brabant, the victor of the battle of Worringen. This brought peace between these long standing enemies and as far as it is known, the marriage was a happy one.

Next Philipp IV helped elevate Henry’s brother to gain the archepiscopal seat of Trier, making him one of the seven electors. It is just another sign of the rising power of the French monarchs that Philipp the Fair was able to reward one of his followers with such a crucial position in a neighboring kingdom. How was it possible? Well, Philipp had his personal pope, Clement V and Clement V exerted his influence on the cathedral chapter to choose Balduin, the brother of Henry VII. Did I mention that Balduin had studied at the university of Paris which made him a suitable candidate for an episcopal seat and that he was just 22 years old, which quite frankly should have counted against him. But age 22 does not matter when the king of France and the Pope back you up. We are clearly leaving the High Middle Ages the age of lay piety and church reform and we are heading into the Babylonian Captivity of the Church and from there into the secular papacy of the Borgias, Farneses and Della Roveres.

And now the whole thing hopefully made sense. Our key question was, how could the Prince electors and the pope dare to elect a count of extraordinary lineage but modest means to become king of the Romans, when the king of France had proposed his own brother as candidate?

Well, as long as Philipp the Fair believed that Henry VII was his man, his vassal bound to him by oath and gratitude, well that was almost as good as having one’s own brother on the throne. It was easier to let the Germans choose their leader as long as that new leader was also the king of France’s man. That was better then ramming a candidate down their throat by force who would never be accepted.

And why did the electors like Henry VII more than other counts? One is obvious, his brother Balduin liked him a lot and proposed him as an option. Henry VII’s family had fought with the archbishop of Cologne at the battle of Worringen and had paid for their loyalty in blood. That brought him the second vote.

Henry VII, despite his extended stays in France had made a name for himself as an energetic and competent territorial prince. He did conduct feuds, like all his peers, but he was a man who one could negotiate with and find a reasonable compromise. He did support commerce in his lands which brought him  a lot of support amongst the cities. In fact the city of Verdun at some point offered itself up to become part of his territories. He had made arrangements with his neighbors that should any of them be put forward as a candidate for the throne, they would all support him. That endeared him to the archbishop of Mainz who looked for support in protecting the trade on the Rhine from robber barons.

Then it was just a case of explaining briefly to the Wittelsbach Count Palatinate on the Rhine and his brother the duke of Bavaria that, again, no they would not stand a chance. The support of the Rhenish electors meant there was now a majority for count Henry. Brandenburg and Saxony who were too far north to actually really care about who was king could be convinced with the help of some generous promises. And that was enough. The current king of Bohemia, Henry of Carinthia did not cast a vote.

All in, he was the perfect, if not in fact the only viable candidate to become king of the Romans in 1308. Few of those who sponsored him were aware that by electing the count of Luxembourg, the vassal of the king of France and modestly wealthy prince, they would set in motion a sequence of events that would lead to the return of real emperors who will rule for a nearly a century and a half, building one of the most beautiful cities in the world and – like Henry III had done  at the zenith of medieval imperial power – depose three popes and choose a new one.

That sequence of events will get going next week. In the meantime, thank you all so much for your efforts in drumming up new listeners for the History of the Germans Podcast. Please keep it up and let all your friends and family, your butcher, your baker, your  candle stick maker know about the History of the Germans. Or go to Facebook @HotGPod or twitter @germanshistory and share some of my posts as a teaser.

I hope to see you again next week.