What to do with Richard the Lionheart and his ransom?

I am writing this whist sitting in the Loggia of Santa Maria dell Grazie in Arezzo, one of the finest early renaissance buildings ever. And I am all alone. Behind me is one of Andrea della Robbia’s masterpieces and the church also holds a fresco by a pupil of Piero della Francesca. The fact that even one of the smaller towns in Tuscany can hold absolute wonders entirely off the beaten tourist track tells you all you need to know about the delta in wealth between Italy and most of Northern Europe in the Middle Ages.

One who was painfully aware of that delta in potential tax income was our friend Emperor Henry VI. If he could only get hold of the kingdom of Sicily, the inheritance of hi wife, he would be so rich and powerful. But having lost his army before Naples and even worse, having his wife falling into enemy hands means this all looks terribly leak.

But his luck is about to turn thanks to one of the most famous and most unexpected events of the High Middle Ages, involving one of Englands most overrated monarchs. I am sure you have heard the story a thousand times of Richard the Lionheart being kidnapped ad ransomed by crowned highwaymen. Today you get the Kurusava treatment and will hear the story from the other German perspective.

Transcript

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 71 – To catch a King

I am writing this whist sitting in the Loggia of Santa Maria dell Grazie in Arezzo, one of the finest early renaissance buildings ever. And I am all alone. Behind me is one of Andrea della Robbia’s masterpieces and the church also holds a fresco by a pupil of Piero della Francesca. The fact that even one of the smaller towns in Tuscany can hold absolute wonders entirely off the beaten tourist track tells you all you need to know about the delta in wealth between Italy and most of Northern Europe in the Middle Ages.

One who was painfully aware of that delta in potential tax income was our friend Emperor Henry VI. If he could only get hold of the kingdom of Sicily, the inheritance of hi wife, he would be so rich and powerful. But having lost his army before Naples and even worse, having his wife falling into enemy hands means this all looks terribly leak.

But his luck is about to turn thanks to one of the most famous and most unexpected events of the High Middle Ages, involving one of Englands most overrated monarchs. I am sure you have heard the story a thousand times of Richard the Lionheart being kidnapped ad ransomed by crowned highwaymen. Today you get the Kurusava treatment and will hear the story from the other German perspective.

Before we start just a reminder. The History of the Germans Podcast is advertising free thanks to the generous support from patrons. And you can become a patron too and enjoy exclusive bonus episodes and other privileges from the price of a latte per month. All you have to do is sign up at patreon.com/historyofthegermans or on my website historyofthegermans.com. You find all the links in the show notes. And thanks a lot to Felix, Marty and Ella who have already signed up.

History has not been kind to our emperor Henry VI. He occupies the slot between the heroic Barbarossa and the enigmatic Frederick II. It is never quite clear what he was for. But I always saw him like the slice of bread between the two pieces of meat in a Big Mac. It isn’t strictly speaking necessary but without it, it would not be a Big Mac. Chroniclers were less kind to him. They portrayed him as the ruthless, calculating power player. Three events had shaped this reputation, one of which happened to be one of the most famous events in Medieval history.

Let’s start with the first two.

The first was how he dealt with the desertion of young Henry, the son of Henry the Lion. You may remember from last episode that young Henry, the son of Henry the Lion had deserted the imperial army before Naples. He first fled to the defenders and then returned to Germany, spreading the rumour the emperor had died. Young Henry may even have harboured ambitions to get himself elected king.

This unprecedented act by a member of the second most august family in the realm called for retaliation. The desertion compounded the initial betrayal by the house of Welf who had sworn an oath to stay in exile until 1193 but returned almost immediately after Barbarossa had left on crusade.

As to be expected Henry VI. had both father and son put into the ban and called an imperial war against the House of Welf. The Saxon nobles did not need much encouragement to muster an army against the lords of Brunswick. Henry the Lion has spent the last 40 years expanding his personal property at their expense and though they managed to depose him as duke, he had remained the most powerful and most vengeful of aristocrats in Saxony.

Henry the Lion is now 62 years old and has no appetite for a full-on confrontation with the empire. He offers the one thing he knows Henry VI wants more than stability of the empire, he offers to join another campaign down to Southern Italy and his time he would come along personally so no shenanigans will happen.

Well shenanigans still need to happen, but this time not against the emperor, but again, against the Saxon nobles. For the second time in his very short reign, Henry VI will leave the Saxon nobles hang out to dry. They are not aware of the under the table agreement between the two Henries and expect their imperial overlord to join them with all his might and bring down Henry the Lion for good. Henry VI keeps up appearances, declares young Henry an outlaw and all that. But when it came to sending troops, ah, no that did not happen. The Saxon Nobles left alone by their emperor get a bloody nose before Brunswick. That was the first x on his score sheet.

His duplicitous policy in Saxony is followed by his involvement in the botched election of the bishop of Liege. Liege, in today’s Belgium was an important bishopric, crucial to retain some control over Lothringia and as a line of defence for the empire’s western border. There were two contenders to succeed the recently deceased bishop, one from a pro-Hohenstaufen party and another from an anti-imperial faction.

As per the Concordat of Worms in disputed episcopal elections, the emperor has the last word. And he chooses a third individual, Lothar von Hochstaden, a Hohenstaufen ally who had just lost out on the archbishopric of Cologne. The Anti-imperial party appeals to the pope in Rome, and Celestine III, by now firmly opposed to Henry VI. appoints their candidate, Albert, brother of the duke of Brabant. Things go back and forth a bit until on 24th of November 1192 the papal appointed candidate is struck down by two German knights whilst travelling near Reims in France.

A murdered bishop is never a good thing. What makes things more problematic is that the two knights who had murdered Albert were close associates of Henry VI. and they find refuge at his court. The duke Henry of Brabant blames not just Lothar von Hochstaden but the emperor himself for the murder of his brother. This local issue is now gradually turning into a full-blown rebellion calling for Henry VI to lay down his crown. Let us not forget that the murder of Thomas a’Beckett, just 20 years earlier, was still fresh in people’s mind. The whiff of episcopal murder is the next scratch on Henry’s scoreboard.

And that brings us to the third and by far biggest stain on Henry VI.s reputation. In January 1193 Henry VI. receives news that duke Leopold of Austria had arrested King Richard the Lionheart of England on his return from the Holy Land.

The short version of that story goes as follows. Richard the Lionheart had insulted duke Leopold of Austria during the Third crusade. Hence, when he travelled through Austrian land on his return from the Holy land, Leopold had him arrested in revenge. Henry VI. bought Richard the Lionheart from Leopold and demanded ransom from England. The amount of the ransom was ratcheted up as Henry played Richard against his enemies, King Phillippe Auguste and John Lackland. After more than a year he was released from prison after swearing allegiance to Henry.

In the public imagination Richard the Lionheart is painted as the heroic knight returning home after securing the survival of Outre-Mer. On the other side you have the archvillain, John Lackland who conspired to bring his brother down even joining up with the Angevin’s archenemy, the wily King Phillippe Auguste. Henry VI. is seen as greedy and calculating, using his position to squeeze out every penny from the unfortunate English peasants. Only duke Leopold gets away ok. He had been insulted and was hence justified in what he did. The other three had no justification, other than insatiable appetite for money and power.

Let’s take a look at this in more detail.

First up, the famous insult before Akkon.

The Third Crusade was a pan-European effort led initially by two kings and an emperor. Phillippe Auguste of France, Richard the Lionheart of England and Barbarossa. By the time the French and the English arrived in Palestine, Barbarossa was long dead. What remained of the German contingent was initially led by duke Frederick of Swabia, Henry VI. younger brother. After Frederick had died of disease in early 1192, command of the Germans went to Leopold, duke of Austria, the most senior imperial prince present.

The Third Crusade was somewhat successful in as much as it regained several of the cities on the coast, but failed to regain Jerusalem, the main objective of the exercise. When the crusaders took Akkon, the most important stronghold along the coast, the question of distribution of the spoils arose. The two kings, Phillippe Auguste and Richard raised their banners s a sign where the plunder should be collected. Leopold raised his banner alongside, not in his role as duke, but as representative of the emperor. What he did not know was that Richard and Phillippe Auguste had already decided to keep him and the other Germans out of the distribution. So, Richard had Leopold’s banner taken down by common soldiers. That infuriated Leopold in two ways, one, he didn’t get any plunder, nor did his knights and soldiers which will be difficult to explain and his banner had been insulted. But Henry VI. as emperor had also been insulted as the rights of the empire and the standard of his representative had been disregarded.

The insult was certainly one justification for Henry’s behaviour, but the much more significant one was that he had already declared Richard the Lionheart an enemy of the realm for the following reasons:

  • Richard had encouraged Henry the Lion to break his oath and return early, creating a civil war in Saxony
  • Richard was an ally on Tancred, the usurper king of Sicily who denied Constance and Henry’s legal rights to Southern Italy
  • Richard had extracted vast sums of money from Tancred, which was money that by rights belonged to the kingdom of Sicily and hence to Constance

As far as Henry VI. can make out, Richard the Lionheart was out to undermine his rights and standing in Europe and was an enemy. Whether Richard pursued an active anti-imperial policy is however doubtful. It is quite clear that he did not take his agreement with Tancred seriously since he departed Sicily with all his troops once the gold was on board and rumblings of the imperial army arriving before Naples could be heard. And I doubt he had any notion of the havoc an early return of Henry the Lion would cause in Germany. It is typical Lionheart. He is a bit of an elephant in a porcelain shop, crashing into things and then looking befuddled at the debris.

And then we come to the question whether apprehending, imprisoning and ransoming Richard was an unprecedented crime that no one else was daring to commit.

For that, let’s find out why in December 1192 Richard finds himself disguised as a merchant in Vienna, literally 1000 miles from home.

Richard had returned from the Holy land and initially planned to return the same way he had come, via Sicily, Marseille and then through Provence and the county of Toulouse into his duchy of Aquitaine.

That route was blocked because he had got into a quarrel with the count of Toulouse and he was planning to apprehend him should he come near his lands. There was also a Genoese fleet based on Sardinia tasked with finding and capturing him. The Genoese may be in the pay of the King of France or have their own reason to seek out Richard. And if he had made it through to Marseille, a journey up the Rhine would have delivered him right into the hands of Phillippe Auguste. So, he had to go down the Adriatic towards Venice. It was now late autumn, and the seasonal storms broke his ship somewhere in Dalmatia.

From there he could have gone to Venice and from there across the alps on one of the western passes. But that would have meant going across Swabia or Bavaria, held by close allies and family of Henry VI., the man who had put a search warrant out for him.

Richard, the accomplished diplomat (Encyclopedia Brittannica) had irritated so many rulers in Europe that he had only one route to get home, sneak under disguise through Slovenia and Austria into Bohemia and from there into the lands of his brother-in-law, Henry the Lion and take a ship home.

Richard, more accomplished than the rest of his family (Encyclopedia Brittannica) was shockingly unconvincing as a travelling merchant. When he passed through the county of Gorizia he had the count sent a hugely valuable ruby as a present to ensure safe passage. This royal gift was unlikely to have come from the humble merchant Hugh he was travelling as. The count who also did not like Richard for god knows what reason had men searching for him and in a skirmish Richard lost 8 of his knights.

From Gorizia he ran for three days covering 150 miles before he collapsed with exhaustion in an inn near Vienna. There he was again quickly discovered because he was throwing money around as no merchant would ever do. Duke Leopold of Austria had him apprehended and brought to the castle of Durnstein.  Leopold informed Henry VI. that he had the king of England in custody.

I do not know about you, but it seems this hero of the Troubadours (Encyclopedia Brittannica) was lucky to make it as far as Vienna with pretty much all of Europe out to get him, including his own brother.

Henry promised Leopold 50,000 Mark of Silver for his hostage and Richard was brought to the Trifels, the great imperial castle in the Palatinate and then negotiations began.

Henry as we know has one political objective at this point, the crown of Sicily. Hence his demands on Richard were: a.) money and b.) military support. 100,000 mark of silver plus 50 ships, 200 knights and 100 archers led by Richard himself.

Richard like most members of his class did not care one bit about the money. What he refused to do was serve in Henry VI. army. That would have turned him into an imperial vassal which he could not and would not accept.

For the next year the two sides would negotiate almost exclusively about this issue of service in Henry VI. army. Henry had a tremendous negotiation position. Between him and the very significant military power of the Angevin house lay the Kingdom of France, so he did not have to fear any efforts to free the king by force. Moreover, Richard’s brother, John Lackland did not want his brother to return. Richard was childless so if he ended up dead in a German prison cell, John would not have minded one bit. Even worse for Richard, John and Phillippe Auguste were conspiring about ways how to prolong Richard’s stay on the Rhine. These two conspirators offered Henry VI. to pay a large amount of money for prolonging his stay in Germany.

Richard’s only trump card were his cousins, the sons of Henry the Lion. They were weighing in on the Lionheart’s behalf, offering on the one hand to take over the military obligations on Richard’s behalf, whilst on the other threatening to block any legal proceedings against Richard in the Court of Princes.

In May the two sides finally agreed a compromise. Richard would pay an additional 50,000 Mark of silver, so 150,000 in total but would be relieved from having to serve. Instead, he would convince the Welf to join the campaign.

Money then began to flow from England and a date for the release of Richard was put in the diary for January 17, 1194. But shortly before that date envoys from Phillippe Auguste and John Lackland arrived, offering Henry the exact same sum as Richard had, 150,000 mark of silver for the prisoner. If Henry had handed Richard over to the king of France, the Lionheart would never got out of jail. And that was quite tempting. Given the choice between Richard out in the wild able to retaliate for his involuntary sojourn or Richard languishing in a French prison, never able to get back at him, its pretty easy.

Henry immediately cancelled the assembly scheduled for the initial release date to ponder this extremely generous offer. He then scheduled a new assembly for February 2. There everyone expected the release of the Lionheart and his mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine was even considering coming down for the event.

And as Richard came in to the assembly, Henry threw in his hand grenade. He called on the envoys of Phillippe Auguste and John to read out loud what ha been offered. He then turned to his princes and asked them what he should do. These guys saw the dollar signs and would probably have voted to ship the hero of the Third Crusade from the Trifels to the Chateau de Vincennes.

Richard then did what he had wanted to avoid at all cost. He knelt down and agreed to become an imperial vassal. He handed the Kingdom of England over to Henry who then returned it to him as an imperial fief.

As a vassal of Henry VI. Richard could demand protection from his enemies, which meant he could no longer be handed over to the French. Richard came back to England and had himself crowned again in an attempt to wash off the oath of fealty. He spent the rest of his life fighting against Phillippe Auguste and died aged just 41 from an arrow.

Henry’s behaviour in this affair, specifically that last move to force Richard to become his vassal has been the cornerstone of his poor reputation. He is shown as the grimy ransom dealer versus the heroic chivalric knight. But all that has happened is that the world had moved on from a world where emperors like Henry II or Otto the Great pursued mainly Christian ideals to one driven by dynastic interests. And Henry’s dynastic interest was to a.) gain the Sicilian inheritance and b.) keep his empire safe, which meant keep the House of Welf in check. Richard delivered him that and screw chivalry, the crusades and all that. He is no different to Phillippe Auguste who will brand a war against the Count of Toulouse as the Albignesian crusade against heretics. Nor is he the only one to be shadowed by the whiff of murder, Richard had the murder of Conrad of Montferrat, elected king of Jerusalem, hanging over him as well.

Next question. What did they do with the money? Leopold took his 50,000 and invested it into new walls for Vienna, a ducal mint and other useful infrastructure. Henry VI. used it to gain the Kingdom of Sicily.

Flush with cash he mustered a large army. Since he could not demand a second Italian campaign from his vassals, this army consisted almost exclusively of his own Ministeriales and very expensive mercenaries.

All throughout the negotiations over Richard’s ransom Henry VI. had meticulously planned his campaign. Things had also improved in other ways. Constance had been released after a year of imprisonment thanks to papal intervention and probably in the hope to reduce the urge of the emperor to come down to Sicily.

And on February 20th, 1194 Tancred had died. Though Tancred had been formally recognised and invested by Pope Celestin III, Henry thought that with his death papal policy would now change. His army was getting ready and surely Celestin III would not want to stand in the way of such overwhelming force. Celestin, he thinks will do the sensible thing and recognise Constance’s right to inherit. But no. Celestin III invested Tancred’s little son as King William III of Sicily.

And so, Henry’s army sets off in April 1194. They hold a great muster on the fields of Roncaglia in June. The imperial lord high steward Markward of Annweiler, an important Ministeriale takes command of a combined Pisan and Genoese fleet. No longer will Henry risk that the squabbles between the two republics impede his success.

The land army advanced in three columns down into Southern Italy. The Normans put up virtually no defence. The city of Salerno where Constance had been apprehended and imprisoned saw its worst nightmares come true. Henry VI. left the city to his men to plunder for three days. Afterwards he as all its houses put to the flames.

As the army marches down the length of Apulia and Calabria, the imperial fleet under Markward of Annweiler takes Messina. In October 1194 Henry VI. first set foot on the island of Sicily. With that the military part of the campaign is over. Henry VI. immediately dismisses his expensive mercenary troops.

Tancred’s widow, Sybil and her little son, the little king William III are holed up in the royal palace above Palermo. As the Germans approach the city, the children of Tancred are brought to a strong defensive castle in the interior, whilst their mother prepares to throw herself at the feet of the conquering emperor.

Henry VI. elated by his easy success is in a magnanimous mood. He promises Sybil and her children freedom and safety. They are even allowed to retain the county of Lecce, one of Tancred’s possessions from before he had taken the throne.

On December 25th, 1194, Henry VI. is solemnly crowned King of Sicily in the Cathedral of Palermo. The royal insignia are brought to him by the little boy king William III who kneels before him, swears allegiance and in return receives the county of Lecce as his fief.

Within almost exactly 3 years Henry VI. has recovered from his nadir as a defeated war leader who had lost his wife to his enemies to lord of an additional two kingdoms, Sicily and England. Ok, England may be a bit of an exaggeration, but Richard Lionheart had knelt before him which is quite cool for an emperor that most people have long forgotten.

But even more astounding than the rise from this set of serious setbacks is the other miracle that took place two days after his coronation. His wife, Constance, by now nearly 40 years old had not made it to the coronation in Palermo. She had to stay behind central Italy because after 8 years of marriage she had become pregnant. A pregnancy at that age in the 12th century was extremely unusual but not impossible. The unnaturally fecund Agnes of Waiblingen may have had her last child at the age of 52, but then she really was really unnaturally productive.

One of the most unusual medieval stories surround the delivery of Constance’s child on Boxing Day 1194 in the town Jesi. The story goes that Constance gave birth in a tent on the main square in the presence of the reputable matrons of the city. The tent’s doors were then opened, and she breastfed her little son for all to see, as further proof that the child was indeed hers.

As much as I would love this to be true, and there is even an inscription on the town square of Jesi claiming to be the spot where the tent has stood, there are good reasons to believe the story might have been an invention.

It begins circulating only after another set of stories are making the rounds. Constance so we are told by Albert of Stade was already 60 years old at the time of her marriage. Thanks to some medical quackery Constance had made her bely swell up so as to convince the emperor of her miraculous pregnancy. Then, when it was time, the doctors lanced her stomach, let out the puss and passed a butcher’s son off as the heir to the throne. These stories were repeated in various forms. Proof was found when the king of Jerusalem called him a butcher or in fictional stories that Markward of Annweiler had told the pope he wasn’t the emperor’s real son.

The tent story was created to discredit the rumours.

Who was that child whose birth agitated so many scribes from St. Albans to Albano? That child is Frederick, the future emperor Frederick II, history dreamboat for both Germans and Italians, an enigma who for some was an autocratic proto-Hitler and for others a scientist on the imperial throne. The stupor mundi as Matthew Paris called him.

At the end of December 1194, this little boy is the crowning glory of a truly great years for emperor Henry VI. and a dawning nightmare for pope Celestin IIII and all his successors until the day they will have ripped out the Hohenstaufen, root and stem.

Next time we will see how our emperor of ill repute will attempt to make peace with Pope Celestin, offering him the one thing the papacy wants even more than freedom from encircling imperial armies, Jerusalem.

Before I go, let me thank all of you who are supporting the show, in particular the Patrons who have kindly signed up on patron.com/historyofthegermans. It is thanks to you this show does not have to start with me endorsing mattresses or meal kits. If Patreon isn’t for you, another way to help the show is sharing the podcast directly or boosting its recognition on social media. If you share, comment or retweet a post from the History of the Germans it is more likely to be seen by others, hence bringing in more listeners. My most active places are Twitter @germanshistory and my Facebook page History of the Germans Podcast. As always, all the links are in the show notes.   

Matthias Corvinus, King of Hungary

Today we will talk a lot about Matthias Corvinus, the legendary renaissance king of Hungary whose library outshone that of the Medici in Florence and whose standing army was one of the greatest – and most expensive – military forces in 15th century Europe.

Why are we talking about a Hungarian ruler in a series about the Habsburgs? Trust me, there is a good reason beyond it being a fascinating life story.

Ep. 212: Matthias Corvinus (1443-1490) – The Library of the Raven King History of the Germans

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Transcript

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 212 – The Library of the Raven King, also Episode 10 of Season 11: The Fall and Rise of the House of Habsburg.

Today we will talk a lot about Matthias Corvinus, the legendary renaissance king of Hungary whose library outshone that of the Medici in Florence and whose standing army was one of the greatest – and most expensive – military forces in 15th century Europe.

Why are we talking about a Hungarian ruler in a series about the Habsburgs? Trust me, there is a good reason beyond it being a fascinating life story.

But before we start, it is just me in my saffron robes holding out my begging bowl. I cannot offer the Dhamma, the teachings of the Buddha nor can I explain the principles that help you live a fulfilling life. All I can offer in return is the absence of ever more hyperbolic praise for humdrum consumer products, let alone promotion of sports betting sites, which is today the #2 podcast advertiser. If that is enough for you and you want to drop your grains of rice into my bowl, you can do so at historyofthegermans.com/support. And there you can join the immensely generous: Kliment M., Michael N., Sofia G., Tobias P., Ben H., Paul-James V. and Scott P.

And with that, back to the show.

Last week we ended on a cliffhanger. Emperor Friedrich III and his young family were huddling together in the cellars of the Hofburg as cannon pounded the ancient fortress. Walls and towers were crumbling and one errant projectile, one falling piece of masonry or the simple lack of food could have wiped out the dynasty that was destined to rule half of Europe.

The siege of the Hofburg in 1462

How did they get out? Was it the citizens of Vienna realizing they had gone too far? Or the emperor’s brother, the archduke Albrecht VI putting family ahead of personal ambition?

No, help came from one of the least probable corners, from Georg of Podiebrad, the king of Bohemia. Georg, you may remember, had put his name forward as King of the Romans in an attempt to fill the vacuum the 15 year absence of the emperor from the Reich had created. And in this attempt to rise to the title, Georg had allied with Friedrich’s arch enemies, the Wittelsbachs, namely Ludwig the Rich of Bayern-Landshut and Friedrich the Victorious, Count Palatine on the Rhine, and – who would believe it – the emperor’s brother and besieger.

Still, in December 1462 Georg or more precisely his Victorin showed up outside Vienna with of a force of his dreaded Bohemian fighters and demanded that Friederich and Albrecht made peace. Under the watchful eye of the Bohemians, the brothers signed an agreement whereby Albrecht was given control of the whole of the duchy Austria including the city of Vienna for eight years in exchange for a substantial annual payment to Friedrich.

And so the emperor Friedrich III, his wife Eleanor and his son Maximilian were allowed to leave the smoldering ruins of the Hofburg. Teeth clenched and full of anger and hatred, they had to walk the gauntlet of the citizens of Vienna who hissed at them, saying, go back to Graz, seemingly a place so barbarous, no upstanding Viennese felt was fit for human habitation.

Eleanor and Maximilian

Friedrich immediately swore revenge and the war of the brothers continued for another 12 months. In these 12 months Friedrich made some progress, as usual not  through action, but through the actions of his enemies. Albrecht VI managed to irritate the Viennese in record time, so that the mayor, Wolfgang Holzer opened secret negotiations inviting Friedrich III to return. Albrecht got wind of that and had Holzer and two of his colleagues torn limb from limb. A move that was not universally popular in the capital. Before the Viennese could gather their spikes and pitchforks to take revenge on their ungraceful lord, Albrecht VI died, of an infection, the bubonic plague or poison, whatever – he was dead.

Archduke Albrecht VI

By 1464 Friedrich III was back in Vienna, as if nothing had happened, well, he did not go back to Vienna obviously since the Hofburg was still in ruins and memories were fresh, but metaphorically and politically, yes, he was back.

But that does not answer the more fundamental question, why did Georg of Podiebrad help Friedrich III? Why did he not just let the stubborn emperor get buried under the rubble of his superannuated castle?

Episode 210 – Ladislaus PostumusThat gets us back to the circumstances that had brought Georg of Podiebrad to the throne of Bohemia. Georg, as we have heard, had not an ounce of royal blood in his veins. He had been elevated to the title because he had exercised de facto control of Bohemia for more than a decade already. When the nominal king of Bohemia, Ladislaus Postumus, died, the estates of Bohemia preferred the devil they knew to some hereditary claimant like Friedrich III, Kasimir of Poland or the duke of Saxony they didn’t.

Podiebrad had managed to walk a thin tightrope between the two main political factions, the moderate Hussites, known as the Utraquists, and the old school Catholics. The Utraquists had emerged from the heretical Hussite movement that had taken control of the kingdom in 1420 and that no catholic army could overthrow. In 1436 the council of Basel had agreed the Compacta with the Hussites, an agreement that readmitted them into the church, and allowed them certain Hussite practices, such as the eucharist in the form of bread and wine. Hence the name Utraquists, which translates as “under both kinds”.

Map of Bohemia showing the religious affiliaions of different places between Catholics and Utraquists (showing a chalice)

Georg had been the leader of the Utraquists but through a sequence of military successes and subsequent compromises had gained acceptance by the Catholics in Bohemia as well.  By 1462, when Podiebrad appeared before Vienna, this political construct had come under ever increasing pressure, not from the emperor or any of the other frustrated candidates, or from within, but from the papacy.

Ever since Friedrich had signed the concordat of Vienna, the papacy had gained the upper hand over the conciliar movement. The Roman Curia began to systematically dismantle the reforms that had been agreed at Basel. One of the decisions the popes, in particular pope Pius II, aka Silvio Piccolomini, wanted to reverse was the compacta that allowed Hussitism to exist, even in its massively watered down form.

Before his coronation, the papal nuncio had made Georg of Podiebrad swear a secret oath that he would suppress the Hussite religion. Georg did swear the oath but crossed his fingers behind his back, since executing the wish of the Roman pontiff would have been obvious political suicide.

George of Poděbrady, “King of Two Peoples”: Treaties Are to Be Observed. (1923) A painting by Alfons Mucha, part of his monumental cycle The Slav Epic, depicts papal nuncio Fantinus de Valle reminding to king his coronation promise to bring Bohemia “back to the womb of the true Church” and exterminate “heretics” 

Georg needed to find a way to legitimize his rule without suppressing his own people, the Utraquists. Which is why he became keen to be elected King of the Romans. If that had worked out, he would have been largely immune from papal excommunication. I have not done the numbers, but by my estimate, more than half of the rulers of the empire since Henry IV had been excommunicated at one point or another, and all of them had held on to their crowns, except for Otto IV.

The other way he hoped to inveigle  his way into the hearts of the Roman prelates was by promising to fight against the Turks. Bohemia had at the time the most effective war machine in western europe making this a valuable offer.

Hussite Wagenburg

And then there was another player who could provide Georg with his much needed air cover, and that was the emperor Friedrich III himself. For one, Friedrich III was the emperor and Bohemia was part of the Holy Roman Empire. As long as Friedrich recognized Georg as king, Georg was the legitimate king. Moreover, in 1462 the pope was Pius II, aka the former chief secretary of the emperor, Silvio Piccolomini. Doing the emperor a big favour might keep the pope from going all guns blazing after the Hussites and after himself.

And the other question is, what happened if Friedrich managed to get out of Vienna under his own steam? If he found Georg on the side of his enemies, he would almost certainly ban him and encourage the pope to excommunicate him and depose him. And that could easily lead to an uprising of the Catholics inside Bohemia, plus an invasion by his rapacious catholic neighbors.

So, much better to gain eternal imperial gratitude as the white knight who had come to the rescue. And that is why Friedrich III did not end up dead under a pile of rubble.

Georg’s search for legitimacy of his kingship stayed within the established legal and cultural frameworks of the Late Middle Ages. As far as he could make out, it was the Popes and emperors who ultimately decided what was right in the eyes of god, and hence what was right in the eyes of men.

But we are in the year 1462, the year when Piero della Francesco painted his Madonna della Misericordia,  Mantegna began work on the Camera degli Sposi in Mantua, Botticelli was apprenticed to Filippo Lippi and Leon Battista Alberti had published his book on architecture. The Humanists had learned Greek from the envoys of the emperor of Constantinople and were compiling the definitive versions of the works of the great philosophers, Plato, Aristotle, Zeno, Epicurus and all the others. And these definitive versions were coming off the printing presses that had been running for a decade now. The world was changing. The Renaissance was not just coming, it was here.

Andrea Mantegna: Camera Degli Sposi, Mantua

Which gets us to Georg’s colleague, Matthias Hunyadi, the 15 year-old who had been made king of Hungary about the same time as Georg had become king of Bohemia.

Matthias Hunyadi as a young man

And when Georg had an issue with legitimacy, young Hunyadi had the same problem, but tenfold.

When Georg became king he had ruled Bohemia already for a decade. Matthias on the other hand was a boy of 15 with no experience or track record. His only claim to fame was descent from Janos Hunyadi, the hero of Belgrade. It was his uncle, the commander of the Belgrade garrison, who used his substantial influence to get the magnates to elect him. This uncle may have believed he would be rewarded with at lest a few years of regency on behalf of his nephew, but found himself instead confronted with the harshness of Matthias character. The young king sent him off to defend the border in Serbia where the Ottomans promptly captured and decapitated him.

In light of these events, several senior magnates became unsure about young Matthias, left Buda and elected of all people, Friedrich III as king of Hungary. What made this an even more serious challenge to the son of Janos Hunyadi was that Friedrich had the crown of St. Steven. You may remember that 28 years earlier the mother of the boy king Ladislaus Postumus got her lady in waiting to steal the crown of St. Steven to prevent the coronation of the Polish king as king of Hungary. That particular part of the plot failed, but the crown of St. Steven had remained in Vienna all that time. Friedrich III now had it and used it to get crowned as king of Hungary.

As usual, this was the maximum extent of Friedrich’s activity as king of Hungary. He fortified the castles he already held in the west of the country and went home to Wiener Neustadt for more gardening.

That allowed Matthias and his advisers to stabilize the situation and regain the confidence of several of the magnates who had rebelled.  But the issue of the crown remained.

These crowns were not just decorative objects, but spiritual ones as well. They contained relics, they were linked to saints, in this case Saint Steven of Hungary, and over the long period that Hungary was ruled by foreign families, had become the symbol of the state itself.

We have already seen that Karl IV had quite deliberately made the Crown of St. Wenceslaus the object that the Kingdom of Bohemia rallied around, rather than the person of the king. In Hungary that process had not been that deliberate, but the result was similar. Only a king who walked under the crown of St. Steven was the real king.

And that applied even more to a king who had no royal blood. Matthias needed the crown of St. Steven if he wanted to make sure his kingdom and his dynasty would endure.

And in 1463 he got it back. Matthias had been negotiating with Friedrich III for years over his claim to be king of Hungary and the crown. And as always, Friedrich had blocked and insisted on his rights, even when he had no chance at all of turning them into tangible power. But when Friedrich returned from his ordeal in the Hofburg he was ready to trade. For the right sum, a sum large enough to muster an army against his hated brother, he would hand over the saintly headgear. 80,000 gulden was the price, and some minor small print. Friedrich was allowed to retain a few Hungarian counties and castles, places he had held since 1440 anyway. And just one minor thing – Friedrich was allowed to retain the title of a king of Hungary and if Matthias would die without heir, Friedrich would inherit Hungary.

That should have been one of those completely out of the money options that were practically worthless. Matthias was 20 years old, Friedrich was 48. Matthias had just got engaged to Catherine, the daughter of Georg of Podiebrad, 14 years old and ready to produce heirs. What were the chances that Friedrich would outlive Matthias and that Matthias would have no legitimate children. Yeah, what were the chances indeed?

The crown of St. Stephen did help Matthias to establish his right to rule Hungary, but that was by no means enough.

The Magnates of Hungary, the 60 families that controlled this enormous kingdom that at the time comprised not just modern day Hungary, but also Slovakia, Croatia and Transylvania, they did not regard the Hunyadis as equals. Matthias had not been born in a massive castle in the Hungarian plain, but in the house of a well-to-do wine grower in a city that is now in Romania where it is called Cluj-Napoco, but is known to Hungarians as Kolozsvár and to Germans as Klausenburg. This was and is one of these regions of Europe that are heavily contested between various ethnic groups, including the Siebenbürger Sachsen who had come there in the 13th century. There is no way I can get through this story as a sidebar in this episode, so we just leave it at that.

Matthias Hunyadi was born in Transsylvania. His father, though a great hero, had come from a family of lower nobility who had risen to prominence and enormous wealth under Sigismund’s reign as king of Hungary. A hero, sure, but still, not exactly the right sort of chap. Even if his son now carried the most holy crown of St. Stephen on his head underneath it he was still the same old chav.

The house where Matthias Corvinus was born in Kolozsvár (present-day Cluj-Napoca, Romania)

What Matthias needed was a way to bend the magnates to his will. And not just one way, but preferably a whole set of tools. And since Matthias was a very smart guy, educated by one of Hungary’s most learned and most astute churchmen, he came up with several.

The first one was to style himself as Europe’s bulwark against the infidels. In 1456 Hungary had – again – stood alone against the Ottomans coming up the Balkans. And since the empire was unable to get its act together and neither Bohemia nor Poland really helped, Matthias could quite credibly claim that he, and only he, was the shield of Christendom. And that was a claim that resonated very strongly in Italy.

We tend to forget how close the Ottoman empire was to Italy, in particular southern Italy. The Straight of Otranto is the narrowest point of the Adriatic where just 45 miles separate the coast of Italy from Albania. I have been to Otranto and you can actually see the mountains of Albania from there. For now Skanderbeg, the most successful Albanian leader of the period was winning his battles against Mehmed II, but he died in 1468 and from then onwards an Ottoman invasion into Italy became a possibility, a possibility that  materialised in 1480, when Ottoman troops took the city of Otranto in Puglia.

Portrait of Giorgio Castriota Scanderberg.

Long story short, the Italians were a lot more concerned about an Ottoman invasion than the rest of Western Europe. Byzantine exiles from Constantinople had been stirring up fear of the alleged barbaric turks for decades. Their pupils, the Italian humanists would write long elegies about the Hunyadis and their valiant defence of Christendom against these vicious fiends. The popes in particular bought into that sentiment and supported a united and powerful Hungary. And as long as Matthias was the most likely person to keep Hungary together and ready to fight, the popes held their hand over the young king, come what may.

The second pillar of his regime was the army. And what an army it was. Matthias had inherited his father’s mercenary force of 6,000 to 8,000 men, kept under arms at all times. Over his 32 year reign he wil expand this force to its peak of 28,000 men, making it the by far largest standing army in christian europe, twice as large as the standing army of Louis XII of France. This army consisted of four main forces, the heavy cavalry, infantry and the light cavalry, the famous hussars and finally regiments of field artillery, used in the early stages of battle and during sieges.

Jörg Kölderer: A big caliber siege cannon from the “Elephant” series of Matthias Corvinus.

The regular use of artillery was not the only innovation. A quarter of Matthias’ infantry men was equipped with an arquebuse, a type of early musket, more than any other army at the time. Their fighting tactics took some inspiration from Jan Zizka’s Hussite wagenburgs. Though instead of bringing along carts, his infantry used pikemen to form defensive squares allowing the arquebusiers and crossbowmen to shoot at the enemy from inside this square, very much like Zizka’s fighters shot from inside their wagenburgs. Light cavalry too was an innovation, likely inspired by Ottoman warfare. These forces were highly mobile, brilliant at raids and surprise attacks.

Top: Black Army knights fought with Ottoman cavalry. Bottom: training of knights. Engraving from the Thuróczy chronicle (1488)

What made this force the most powerful fighting force in europe though was that key ingredient of modern warfare, discipline. The soldiers in the Black Army were professional soldiers who fought for money. Matthias paid them well. His heavy cavalry men were paid five florins a month, well above the usual 3 florins, light cavalry revceived 3 florins a month, again sustantially more than normal. Within the infantry pay varied between simple pikemen and the crssbowmen and arquebusiers and the most specialised, the gunners, operating the field cannon. But all were paid a lot more than anyone else would. And in return they had to follow orders, train, work together across cavalry and infantry and accept that their officers were chosen on merit, not on who their dad was. Compare that to the battle of Nicopol 70 years earlier where the arrogance and stupidity of the Burgundian and French high aristicrats led to the annihilation of the Christian forces by the Ottomans.

Saint George and Saint Florian, depicted in the armour suits of Black Army knights. Fresco of the Roman Catholic church of Pónik 

When Matthias army reached its maximum size of 28,000, the cost of keeping it in the field is estimated at 300,000 to 350,000 florins per quarter. To put that in context, Matthias paid Friedrich III 80,000 ducats for the crown of St. Stephen, basically a month’s wages. When Albrecht II paid up for the privilege to marry the daughter of emperor Sigismund and with her the right to the Hungarian and Bohemian crowns, he paid 400,000 florins, again, the equivalent of four months of Matthias’ army.

And this was not the only standing army in Hungary at the time. Apart from the mobile Black Army, Matthias furnished the fortresses along the southern border with permanent garrisons, equipped with cannon and trained in defensive siege warfare. These fortresses covered an unbroken line stretching 500km from the Adriatic see to Wallachia, almost five times the length of Hadrain’s wall.

Military movements of Matthias Corvinus and the Black Army

Bottom line, we are talking an absolutely unprecedented expenditure here. Now where did the money for all that come from?

Certainly not from the royal purse. The magnates controlled 2/3rds of the land directly and another quarter through the church. The king himself owned only about 5%. Nowhere near enough revenue to cover even a week of the army’s cost.

Then we have the Hunyadi’s personal fortune. Matthias Hunyadi had inherited 2.3 million hectares, 28 castles, 57 towns and 1,000 villages from his father. Now we are talking. But again, how long would that last?

Then there were the mines in what is now Slovakia. These were famous for their silver and copper and one of them, Neusohl, provided the Fugger’s with a virtual monopoly in copper after Matthias was dead. But as we have heard in the epsiodes about Nurnberg, in the 15th century the Hungarians never saw the true benefit of their copper. The copper seams in Slovakia were heavily mixed with silver, but it was the Nurnberger smelters who had the technique to extract the silver from the copper ore, making them immensely rich, whilst the king of Hungary and the local mining operators saw only a fraction of the value.

Sorting of Coppr ore in Neusohl
Engraving from De re metallica di Georg Agricola, Basilea, 1556

Now what? There is a reason we associate the appearance of standing armies with the establishment of modern states. General taxation was the only way such forces could be built, equipped and maintained. And the ability to set and collect general taxes required a large and  powerful bureaucracy, the kind of bureaucracy normally assocoiated with a modern state.

Matthias stablished a bureacracy across Hungary, though it is doubtful it had the same breadth and depth as a modern state. The true reason his people were prepared to pay his general tax of 1 gold florin for each household, was his army. These soldiers were not just permanently under arms, but they were also utterly loyal to the king. In particular in the beginning, the vast majority of them weren’t Hungarins, but Bohemians, Germans, Croats and Poles. They didn’t have any links to the peasants and minor nobles who they made to pay. Faced with a professional army even the great Hungarian magnates coughed up their due.

The Black Army and the line of fortresses along the border turned Matthias’ Hungary into a major European power, a power that could defend itself and the lands behind it against an Otttoman invasion. But it wasn’t powerful enough to take the offense to sultan Mehmet’s 60,000 cavalry and 10,000 Janissaries. Which explains Matthias’ rather lacklustre attempts to join the crusades the popes kept calling for. In fact he only pursued one major campaign, in 1464 in Bosnia where he recaptured an important fortress. But that was as far as it went.

When his ally, Vlad III, Voivode of Vallachia stood up against the Ottoman sultan and raided across Ottoman Bulgaria, Matthias not only left him hanging out to dry, but took him prisoner. We know Vlad III by his epithet Vlad the Impaler, or even better by his other nckname, Dracula, the little dragon. I am not going to discuss the contested question whether or not he was indeed a monster who had 10s of thousands of men, women and children, even babies impaled. What matters here is that Matthias used these stories to paint Vlad as a psychpath, which justified his decision to not support his crusade, to lock him up and thereby appease the Sultan.

Portrait of Vlad III (c. 1560), reputedly a copy of an original made during his lifetime

Which gets us to the third leg of his power, a tremendous public relations machine. Matthias had enjoyed a very thorough education. His tutor was Janos Vitez, one of the early Humanists in Hungary. Vitez had studied in Vienna and had risen to prominece in the service of emperor Sigismund. In 1445 he became the bishop of Oradea where he built one of the earliest Renaissance palaces in central Europe. That palace held a great library that contained the latest editions of the Latin and Greek classics, to be perused by his circle of Humanist friends, many of them Italians, but also Germans, Poles and obviously locals. He sponsored many young Hunagrians to study in Italy, including his nephew, Janos Pannonius, who became the best known Hungarian writer of this period.

Portrait of Janos Vitez, Plautus-kódex, Ferrara, c.1465. (Bécs, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. 111.

Matthias, who had grown up in this environment was naturally drawn to the new ideas about architecture and culture that came over from Italy. It is again important to understand that Hungary at the time had access to the Adriatic and connections to Italy were close and well established. After all, the dynasty that ruled Hungary before Sigismund had been the Anjou of Naples. It is therefore not at all surprising that Italian Humanists, architects and artists were attracted by offers from Hungarian courts.

But there was also a political dimension to these cultural exchanges that Matthias sought to benefit from. Let’s take a look at who was in charge of the major Italian states in 1460/1470. Florence was ruled by the Medici, a family of bankers, Venice by an oligarchy of traders, Mantua, Bologna, Rimini, Perugia by local strongmen who had risen as condottiere, and then most of Northern Italy was under the control of Francesco Sforza, the greatest mercenary captain of his age. Very few of these were held by ancient aristocratic families, and even those like for instance Naples were held by rulers of dubious legality.

And one way in which these commoners justified their rule was through art and architecture. Brunelleschi’s cupola of the duomo in Florence was not just an engineering marvel, it was also a symbol of the effectiveness of the Medici rule. Leonardo’s last supper was not just a masterpiece, but also a sign that the Sforza were ruling with god’s blessing. But the biggest propaganda value lay in the references back to the ancient Romans. The great Roman consuls and emperors, Scipio, Marius, Caesar, Augustus, Trajan, Marcus, Aurelius, Constantine did not inherit absolute power but had earned it, whilst those who just inherited power, the Caligulas, Neros, Commodus and Heligobalus squandered it.

Interior of Teatro Olimpico (Vicenza)

By going back to the ancients, these strongmen could justify their rule, claiming their merit superseded the herditary rights of the Visconti or the Anjou. So when the Malatesta of Rimini comissioned Lean Battista Alberti to turn the old gothic cathedral into a mausoleum for his family in the style of a roman temple, it wasn’t a fashion statement, but a political one.

Art and Architecture was one component of this large public relations effort to legitimise the power of these nouveau riches, the other was science, knowledge, literature, and also libraries. The great Italian princes competed hard over who had the most dazzling court of intellectuals and the largest and best library in the land. Cosimo de Medici and his grandson Lorenzo were avid collectors, bringing together a thousand or so manuscripts covering both religious and secular topics, now in Michelangelo’s Laurentian Library. Frederico da Montefeltro, duke of Urbino and quintessential Renaissance prince had a similar number of books, most of them in Latin, but also 168 were in Greek, 82 in Hebrew and even 2 in Arabic.

Laurentian Library: Vestibule

And that is where Matthias, a new man like all of these, superseded them all. In the magnificent renaissance palace his Italian architects erected for him in Buda, his library comprised roughly 3,000 volumes, three times as many as the Medici and almost as many as the largest library in Christendom, the Vatican library. To amass such a number of books was at a minimum a huge logistical challenge. Travelling from Florence, where the best booksellers of the age operated, to Buda could easily take months. The roads were not always safe and these books were not only incredibly valuable, but also easy to conceal and sell, a bit like 19th century imperial jewellery.  Some of these books Matthias took from other Hungarian libraries whose owners had either passed away or fallen into disgrace. Others he had produced in the workshop he established in his palace at Buda, but the majority he ordered from Italy.

Castle of Buda in the 15th century

Hardly anything that Matthias built or collected survived the vagaries of time. His palaces in Buda and Visegrad have been entirely destroyed, so that just one of the many fountains that once adored his gardens survived. Of his famed library only 200 books can still be attributed.

Visegrad palace in the time of Matthias Corvinus

But as a political tool it did work. He had placed the library right behind the throne room. Foreign dignitaries and local magnates could see the rows and rows of books behind the king, making clear that his power wasn’t just built on brawn but also brain.

And whilst the Italian princes competed over books, painters and writers amngst each other, Matthias’ message had another, wider audience. In the 15th century most of Europe saw the Hungarians as fierce, but rustic and uneducated warriors. Meanwhile despite what the Greek refugees in Italy said about the Turks, thoe who travelled there knew that Constantinople had benefitted enormously from being again the capital of a huge empire. Wonderous new mosques and palaces were comissioned, old trade routes that had been disrupted reopened and Venetian and Genoese merchants resumed their activities. Italian artists like Gentile Bellini came to paint the sultan and Mehmet II’s library could easily rival thos eof teh Italian princes.

Hence Matthias needed to show Hungary not just as a military, but also as a cultural bulwark of Western Europe. His library, his buildings and the humanists at his court were there as the intellectual force that held back the alleged barbarism of the Turks.

We know him today as Matthias Corvinus, after his heraldic symbol, the raven, corvus in Latin. In the 15th century the raven was not yet a symbol of darkness and witchcraft. It appeared in Genesis when Noah sent a raven to find out whether the waters have receded, ravens fed the prophet Elias during a drought, and in Luke 12,24 it says: Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them”. Ravens were birds sent by God for a specific purpose, and hence most suitable for a king tasked with the defence of Christendom.

Raven of Matthias Corvinus, carrying a golden ring

Some Italian humanists then concocted the idea that the Hunyadis were descendant of Marcus Valerius Corvus, a roman senator elected consul six times and dictator twice. Matthias never formally endorsed the theory, but also did not deny it, again adding to the reasons he was the rightful ruler of Hungary.

Not just Hungary. As we already mentioned, Matthias Corvinus did not use his great army and broad support at home and abroad to regain lost territory from the Ottomans. In fact, he largely left the Ottomans alone after 1464.

Instead, he turned his gaze north, to Bohemia and Austria. It was these lands he used his army to conquer. First, he went for Bohemia, the kingdom of his erstwhile father in law, Georg of Podiebrad. By now pope Paul II had revoked the Compacta and Georg of Podiebrad had been excommunicated and declared a heretic. This gave Matthias the justification he needed. As the shield of Christendom, he was not only tasked with defence against the Muslims, but also with eradicating heresies. Or so he claimed. In 1471 he had succeeded in a manner of speaking. Georg of Podiebrad had given up the hope of creating a dynasty and had made Kasimir IV of Poland the heir to the kingdom of Bohemia, and he had given up the outer territories of Bohemia, Silesia, Moravia and Lusatia to Matthias.

After this success, Matthias turned on Austria and on Friedrich III. This war, that lasted until his death in 1490 could not be justified as a crusade against a heretic or a war against the Turks.

If there was to be a justification for his ambition, it went as follows. The Ottoman armies are far stronger than those of Hungary alone, even his Black Army. If Europe was to be defended successfully, all of the forces of central Europe, Hungary, Bohemia, Austria, the Holy Roman Empire and Poland have to act in unison. And guess how one can ensure that these diverse places act in unison…

Now, you ask, what has that to do with the Habsburgs?

States and empires stick together for a reason, often these reasons are cultural or linguistic. But sometimes they are not, sometimes they are driven by a shared belief in institutions – like in Switzerland – sometime they are a function of geography, like Britain, and sometimes they are a function of geopolitical circumstances.

If one wonders why three so culturally different nations like the Hungarians, the Czechs and the Austrians, plus a large number of others stuck together from the 15th to the early 20th century, it wasn’t just the iron will of the Habsburg dynasty. As we have seen at the top of the episode, the Habsburgs could have easily disappeared from history in 1462. If they had disappeared, I am fairly convinced that a multinational state in central europe would have emerged anyway, be it under the Hunyadis or the Jagiellons or someone else. Because only a combination of these forces and support from Poland and the Empire was strong enough to halt the Ottoman progress.

Habsburgs versus Ottomans – map

This objective was what gave legitimacy to the state and the campaigns of Matthias Corvinus and will give justification for the existence of the Habsburg empire. And the Habsburgs adopted some of the other elements of Matthias Hunyadi’s concept; the Landsknechte were the Maximilan’s version of the Black Army, general taxation, which in turn required the bureaucracy of a modern, absolutist state were introduced in the hereditary lands and in the empire. The sponsorship of art, architecture and literature as a counterpoint to the alleged barbarity of the Ottomans embellished Vienna. And last but definitely not least, the ferocious persecution of anyone who wasn’t Catholic became a key Habsburg feature.

That is not to say the Habsburgs slavishly copied Matthias Hunyadi. Friedrich III was no fan of the renaissance and his architectural taste remained rooted in the Gothic style; his right to rule was not based merit, but on his unshakeable belief that his family was divinely ordained . His son Maximilian was the first Habsburg to be a true Renaissance prince, but he left neither much architecture nor did he create a library. But he understood the importance of public relations in a way no emperor had before, using painting, engraving and the printing press to achieve what the Biblioteca Corvina did for Matthias.

But that is for next week when we will take a look at how Friedrich III responded to the emergence of the Black Army and the great Corvinian Library on his doorstep and how he finally, finally got out of his apathy, and went off to talk first marriage and and then war with Charles the Bold, duke of Burgundy, getting a ball rolling that will drop into the net that we call the Habsburg empire.

The Siege of the Hofburg in 1462

It is November 1462 and the emperor Friedrich III and his young family are huddling together in the cellars of the Hofburg. The citizens of Vienna are shooting cannonballs into the 13th century castle, the walls are crumbling and any moment now the angry crowds may break in. Outside, supporting the insurrection stood his own brother, calling on him to give up.

Two crowns he has already lost and a third is about to be knocked off his head as the imperial princes had ganged up on him. Friedrich III was a man who firmly believed in ancient laws and traditions and was profoundly ill suited for a world where, as Picciolomini wrote in the last sentence of his history of the emperor Friedrich III quote: “We are of the opinion that empires are won by weapons, not by legal means!”  

Two crowns he has already lost and a third is about to be knocked off his head as the imperial princes had ganged up on him. Friedrich III was a man who firmly believed in ancient laws and traditions and was profoundly ill suited for a world where, as Picciolomini wrote in the last sentence of his history of the emperor Friedrich III quote: “We are of the opinion that empires are won by weapons, not by legal means!”  

Friedrich III and with him the Habsburgs hit rock bottom, but how and why exactly he ended up there, and what that tells us about the profound changes during this period of history is what we are going to explore in this episode.

Ep. 211: Friedrich III (1440-1493) – Hitting Rock Bottom History of the Germans

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Transcript

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 211 – Hitting Rock Bottom, also episode 10 of Season 11: The Fall and Rise of the House of Habsburg.

It is November 1462 and the emperor Friedrich III and his young family are huddling together in the cellars of the Hofburg. The citizens of Vienna are shooting cannonballs into the 13th century castle, the walls are crumbling and any moment now the angry crowds may break in. Outside, supporting the insurrection stood his own brother, calling on him to give up.

Two crowns he has already lost and a third is about to be knocked off his head as the imperial princes had ganged up on him. Friedrich III was a man who firmly believed in ancient laws and traditions and was profoundly ill suited for a world where, as Picciolomini wrote in the last sentence of his history of the emperor Friedrich III quote: “We are of the opinion that empires are won by weapons, not by legal means!”  

Friedrich III and with him the Habsburgs hit rock bottom, but how and why exactly he ended up there, and what that tells us about the profound changes during this period of history is what we are going to explore in this episode.

But before we start I would like to touch on something completely different. I recently came across a Facebook post from someone claiming to have discovered a foolproof path to YouTube success. His method? Find the five most popular videos, transcribe them, and ask ChatGPT to create a new script from the results.

Apart from the obvious copyright issues, it made me wonder why anyone would want to do that. This is clearly not a creative endeavor of any kind. Whoever does that does not want to convey any thoughts or ideas, nor achieve a deeper understanding of anything; it’s purely about money. But who would pay for such drivel? Audiences care about quality and authenticity and are pretty good at smelling a rat. So it must be the advertising dollars they are after.

And yes, this scheme might yield a small profit, given the minimal effort required to churn out this AI-generated sludge. But for the rest of us, it is a nightmare. We end up wading through a morass of nonsense to find the nuggets we are looking for.

I am no luddite. I can see a lot of benefit from using AI tools to make this podcast better or better known. It is not the technology that is the problem, it is the advertising driven business model of social media. Without it, nobody would be pumping out utter dross. Which once more convinces me that running this podcast advertising free was the right choice, something I can only do thanks to the extreme generosity of our patrons who have already signed up at historyofthegermans.com/support. If you join them, your name will be immortalized here, just like Anne T., Ged M., TOXDOC, David W.H., Norman J., and Arvid M. are today.

And with that, back to the show.

TheAftermath of the death of Ladislaus Postumus

Last week we ended on the sudden death of the boy king Ladislaus Postumus. Ladislaus had been at least nominally king of Hungary, King of Bohemia and duke of Austria. However, power in these territories had largely shifted to local leaders, in Hungary to the great general John Hunyadi, in Bohemia to the Hussite baron Georg of Podiebrad and in Austria to the populist firebrand Ulrich von Eyczing.

Jan Škramlík: King Ladisalus Postumus thanks georg of Podiebrad on his deathbed
The election of Matthias Corvinus

Let’s first have a look at what happened in Hungary. The local leader there, John Hunyadi had died following his heroic defence of Belgrade against the sultan Mehmet. His eldest son, Lazlo had been executed by king Ladislaus for the murder of Ulrich of Celje, a relative of the king and rival of the Hunyadis. The younger son, Matthias had been brought to Prague as a prisoner when king Ladislaus had to flee Hungary from the rage of the Hunyadi party.

The mourning of LViktor Madarasz (1840-1917). The Mourning of Laszlo Hunyadi. 1859. Hungarian National Gallery. Budapest. Hungary.i

When King Ladislaus died, the imprisoned Matthias Hunyadi was freed. On his return to Buda, the Hungarian nobles gathered and, in an unprecedented act of political boldness, proclaimed him king.

It is difficult to overemphasise how significant this was. Hungary had been a Christian kingdom since the year 1000, its rulers chosen on lineage and merit. After the extinction of the original  Árpád dynasty in 1301, a series of foreign monarchs had ruled, each claiming descent or marital ties to justify their crowns. Matthias Hunyadi had no blood relation to the Arpads or any previous Hungarian ruler nor did he belong to one of the 60 magnate families. And pure merit could not justify it either, since at 15 years of age, he simply had not yet had the time to prove himself.

Still the magnates set aside the heirs of their erstwhile king, and instead elevated the son of the man who had defended Christendom against the Ottoman threat at the siege of Belgrade. Matthias became king of Hungary in January 1458 and ruled for 32 years. He became known by his latinised name, Matthias Corvinus, Matthias the Raven, and we will hear a lot more about him, just not today.

Andrea Mantegna – King Matthias Corvinus of Hungary
The rise of Georg of Podiebrad to king of Bohemia

And something similar was happening in Bohemia. There were various options for the succession of Ladislaus, first and foremost the Habsburgs, specifically the emperor Friedrich III, then the husbands of Ladislaus’ sisters, Kasimir of Poland and Wilhem of Saxony, or the true ruler of Bohemia, Georg of Podiebrad. And, like in Hungary, the estates set aside the claims of the princely houses, and chose a simple baron with not an ounce of royal blood.

Václav Brožík: A scene from the coronation of Georg of Podiebrad

One of the reasons the estates of Hungary and Bohemia were prepared to risk such a move was the inertia of Friedrich III. They looked at Friedrich’s track record and they knew for a fact that he would not come down to Buda or Prague with an army of mercenaries demanding his inheritance. Nor would Kasimir of Poland who was still fighting the Teutonic Order in Prussia nor Wilhelm of Saxony, well the latter because, because he did not have the cards.

The social, military and economic changes in the 15th century

But it was also a result of broader social, military and economic changes. When we did our series on the 15th century we came across men of modest backgrounds taking charge. Some made their career in the church, like Nicholas Cusanus and Andreas Silvio Piccolomini, something that had always been possible. But now we have bankers like the Welser, Fugger, Imhof and Hochstetter that are richer than any prince and determine the outcome of wars and imperial elections. We have inventors and entrepreneurs that change the world, like Gutenberg and his fellow printers, the armourers Kolman, Lorenz and Helmschmied, the cartographers, mathematicians, clockmakers; and there are the university professors training lawyers in how to take over the administration of the state. The military became a professional force, led by mercenary commanders who had risen through the ranks and some end up ruling cities as counts and marquesses and, in the case of Francesco Sforza, rise to the title of a duke of Milan.

Western Europe, for the first time in centuries experienced social mobility, social mobility that went as far as raising simple noblemen to the royal thrones in Hungary and Bohemia.

So one could argue that it wasn’t all Friedrich III’s fault that Hungary and Bohemia were lost to the Habsburgs for the time being. But then we have seen Sigismund gaining the St. Stephen’s crown from a much less promising position and we will see other Habsburgs turning tenuous titles into tangible territories.

The division fo Austria

That gets us to the last of Ladislaus’ possessions, the duchy of Austria. There the estates had appointed Ulrich von Eyczing as Landverweser, i.e., temporary regent whilst they debated who should be the new duke. Here are the runners and riders: Friedrich III, emperor and most senior of the Habsburg archdukes. Then there is his brother, Albrecht VI, at this point archduke in control of further Austria, i.e., the ancestral lands on the upper Rhine. And, in the outside lane, is Sigismund, the archduke and count of Tyrol.

Erzherzog Albrecht VI. (Österreich). Miniatur des thronenden Herrschers mit Rosenkranz in einem für ihn angefertigten Gebetbuch (Pergamenthandschrift, 1455/63)

On the face of it, neither Sigismund nor Albrecht should have a particular claim or interest in the duchy of Austria. Sigismund was the youngest and preoccupied with his innumerable and rapacious mistresses and his even more ruinous wars against Milan. And Albrecht’s main powerbase was a long way from Vienna.

On that basis Sigismund was given some vague promises and quickly dispatched back to Innsbruck, but Albrecht insisted on his pound of flesh. Much depended on the position Ulrich von Eyczing, the actual leader of the duchy. Eyczing in one of these 180 degree shifts we see a lot in this period, opted for the emperor he had previously dismissed as sluggish and miserly. Which was not very clever, since Albrecht simply snatched him and put him in jail. At which point even the sloth-like Friedrich felt he needed to come to Vienna and see what he could do to become duke. He freed von Eyczying and had a serious ding dong with his brother, which ended in an agreement to divide the duchy in two along the river Enns. Albrecht was to receive Austria above the Enns, which is modern day Upper Austria, where he established his headquarters in Linz. Friedrich got Austria proper, including Vienna.

We will get back to the situation in Vienna by the end of this episode, but before we do that, we need to talk about the other crown in play, that of the Holy Roman empire.

Friedrich III’s scorecard in 1458

Sorry, why is that crown in pay? Friedrich III has been elected in 1440 and crowned emperor in 1452. Who needs a new one. The simple answer was – everyone.

When the electors chose Friedrich III  in 1440 they expected him, the tall, broad shouldered promised mythical last emperor in control of all the Habsburg lands and crowns, to solve three major problems: Defence of Europe against the Ottomans, reform of the church and reform of the Empire.

By 1458 the scorecard for Friedrich III looked as follows:

Defence aganst the Ottoman threat

Defence of Europe against the Turks, to say it in the words of the Eurovision song contest: Saint Empire Romaine – Nul Points. Friedrich III had not mobilised any forces in the crusades against the Ottomans in 1444, 1448 and 1456. Constantinople had fallen under his watch and he had not lifted a finger helping John Hunyadi and Giovanni Capistrano defending Belgrade. The utter failure of the imperial diets in 1454, 1455 and 1456 that were supposed to organise the defence against the Turks was laid at his door, with some justification. He had called the gatherings but could not be bothered to go there himself, which meant very few other princes showed up and the whole thing went nowhere.

Church reform

Item 2 on the list, church reform scored no better. Yes, by going over to the side of the pope and ditching the council of Basel he did help ending the conciliar and papal schism. But at what price? The church in the empire remained subject to far reaching interference by Rome, church revenues went down to the papacy in much higher proportions then elsewhere and actual reform of the church, aka, proper training of priests, the end of benefice farming and generally better behaviour, none of that was happening. Some historians who defend Friedrich III argue that there was never a chance that the emperor could enforce church reform. Well, maybe, but at least he could have tried. Sigismund did try, and he achieved the end of the schism.

Reform of the Empire

That leaves item 3 – reform of the empire. Reform of the empire had been on the agenda ever since Ludwig the Bavarian and then Karl IV shed papal influence over the management of the empire. It was now down to the emperor and the German princes to define the laws, processes and institutions of the state.

Germania by Jörg Kölderer’s workshop for the Triumphzug of Emperor Maximilian

Karl IV had taken a first stab at it in two ways. On the positive side he passed the Golden Bull of 1356 that set out the roles of the Prince Electors and confirmed the absence of papal interference. On the not so positive side, his extreme bribery in the run-up to first his own election and then the election of his son Wenceslaus, had wiped out the financial basis of the royal office.

Map of the Holy Roman Empire in 1356

That meant from the middle of the 14th century onwards, being emperor was a pleasure entirely funded out of the officeholders private purse. Which explains why Karl IV’s successors, who all had serious money problems, were so remarkably ineffective.

In the hundred years since the Golden Bull, the empire had failed to set up an effective system of law and order, there was no formal political decision making process, no common rules on coinage, road building and commerce, nor was there a taxation system that could sustain any such institutions.

The empire was falling behind fast. In England, France, Spain, Poland institutions like parliaments, unified court system and tax collection infrastructure were being rolled out, despite, or because of the ongoing military pressure. The same was true for the territories within the empire, where princes were consolidating their power, hired lawyers to run their bureaucracy, negotiated taxation rates with the estates and enforced court judgements.

If the empire wanted to defend itself against the Ottomans and the encroachment by France, Burgundy, Poland, Sweden and Hungary, it urgently needed at least some of these kinds of institutions.

 That was the bit most people agreed on. The other thing that everybody agreed on was that making that happen, was extremely difficult.

Why? Let’s think this through. Say you were to introduce an imperial government tasked with defending the borders and preventing the endless feuding between the princes. Good plan. Now you need the money to fund this government, i.e., money to pay the bureaucrats, judges and if necessary armies to fight the Turks or keep the princes from killing each other. Well, that money should come out of taxes, which were to be paid by the territorial princes and the cities. To go with a concept that is now almost forgotten: “no taxation without representation”, meant the territorial princes and cities would demand a seat on that imperial government. At which point the emperor goes, hang on a minute. I am God’s anointed and I am not going to have my government be hemmed in by these other princes.

O.k., what is the emperor’s proposal? Well, Friedrich said: we can do as we do it back home in Styria and Carinthia, i.e., I call up the estates when I need money and will make concessions as and when that happens. But otherwise I can do what I want, in particular my judges are where you have to take your cases or appeals and if I ask for help fighting the Turks you come and fight for free like in the good old days of Frederick Barbarossa. At which point the territorial princes say, no, no, no. If we do it like that, then you have actual influence on the ground in my lands and my family had just spent a hundred years getting control of my own people, so thanks, but no thanks. And your idea I would fight for you for free, you are not serious, right

It is one of those almost irresolvable problems that require someone willing to dedicate time and effort resolving it, with the power to bang heads together and the willingness to compromise when needed.

Emperor Friedrich III wasn’t that man. His initial reform from 1442 had failed and even his great innovation, the Kammergericht was regularly left without appropriate staffing and leadership. Nevertheless he was stubbornly insisting on the imperial prerogatives whilst lacking the political, financial and military power to set up his own enforcement mechanisms. He was the Gromyko of his time, his vocabulary down to one word: Njet.

The situation was effectively untenable. The empire was deteriorating at quite a rate of knots, and all the inhabitants heard from Wiener Neustadt was “Njet”.

Martin Mair’s attempts to reform the empire

One man was particularly keen to do something about this gridlock, Martin Mair. We already mentioned him in episode 197, but just a quick rundown again. Of unknown social background, he had studied in Heidelberg and began his career in 1448 in Schwäbisch Hall before going to Nürnberg. He quickly established himself as one of the most gifted political minds of his time, so that he was lent out by his employer, the city of Nürnberg to various lords, including in 1449 to the emperor himself. There he struck up a friendship with the emperor’s chief councillor, Aeneas Silvio Piccolomini who tried to keep him in the service of the imperial chancery.

Gravestone of Dr. Martin Mair in St.-Martins-Church in Landshut

But Martin Mair had seen enough. He did not believe there was any chance that Friedrich III would bring law and order, let alone a set of institutions and processes that would strengthen the empire against its enemies. So he began working on an alternative.

The reform proposal of 1454

In 1454 he proposed a wide reaching reform of the empire, namely a permanent imperial government made up of the emperor and the Prince Electors or their representatives. A court that acted as the final court of appeal and was made up of lords, counts and princes, overseen by the imperial government, and all that funded by a tax system the details of which remained a secret.

That proposal was brought to the imperial diet of the same year and then again in 1455. These diets had been set up to discuss the defence against an Ottoman invasion, not to discuss imperial reform. But since Friedrich said Njet to imperial reform, the princes said Njet to funding an army against the Turks, and nothing happened on either front.

Friedrich the Victorious of the Palatinate as candidate

In 1456 things became a bit more dicey for our Friedrich III.

Having failed with his reforms, Martin Mair, decided to play the man as well as the ball. He collected electoral votes to put someone else on the throne. Someone he thought had the energy, military might and political clout to pull it off. And that someone was none other than Friedrich der Siegreiche, Friedrich the Victorous, Count Palatine on the Rhine, our friend from episode 189.

Friedrich der Siegreiche by Albrecht Altdorfer

The way Mair and his supporters thought this could be made acceptable to Friedrich, was to present the Count Palatine as a junior king, below the emperor, doing the drudgework, whilst the emperor could remain in Wiener Neustadt growing radishes or whatever it was he was doing down there.

That did not cut the mustard though. The emperor already had beef with Friedrich the Victorious over the way the latter had shunted his nephew out of the line of succession. So Friedrich III objected to the person, but even more to the whole concept. He was emperor, there was no need for a separate king of the Romans and that was that. At which point Friedrich the Victorious said, well in that case we do it against your will.

The only reason Friedrich III did not get deposed in 1457  was that Albrecht Achilles of Brandenburg got cold feet and withdrew his support to Martin Mair and his friends. The conspirators did not have a quorum amongst the Prince Electors and so they had to give up. And half a year later the main supporter of the plan, the archbishop of Trier was dead and was replaced with a relative of the Habsburgs.

Proposing Georg of Podiebrad as King of the Romans

Martin Mair still did not give up. In 1461 he presented another candidate, Georg of Podiebrad, recently crowned king of Bohemia.

George of Poděbrady, “King of Two Peoples”: Treaties Are to Be Observed. (1923) A painting by Alfons Mucha, part of his monumental cycle The Slav Epic, depicts papal nuncio Fantinus de Valle reminding to king his coronation promise to bring Bohemia “back to the womb of the true Church” and exterminate “heretics” (i.e. Utraquists / Hussites), while the king passionately objects that he isn’t a heretic but maintain faithfulness to the faith – “according to his conscience”

Let’s take a step back. In 1273 the imperial princes balked at the idea of making a Bohemian king of the Romans, even one of impeccable lineage going back to Saint Wenceslaus and an unblemished track record as a military leader and a reputation as a faithful son of the Holy Catholic church. Barely 200 years later they are seriously considering a simple baron who had usurped the crown from one of the most eminent princely houses, namely the Habsburgs, and much more concerning, was a man who had risen to power as the leader of the Utraquists, a Hussite sect that had fought the catholic church for decades.

Why did they chose him? There were a number of reasons. First up, he was a successful military leader and a charismatic individual. Then – despite all that had happened – he had a very good relationship with the emperor Friedrich III. And then Podiebrad played his cards right. He never provided any detail of the institutional changes he would implement once he was king. Instead he talked about peace and unity. And then he emphasised the fight against the Ottomans, one subject everyone could agree on and that covered up the smell of heresy that surrounded him.

In February 1461 the princes gathered in Eger to discuss imperial reform. Georg of Podiebrad had high hopes that this would be his great breakthrough. Support for the emperor had been crumbling for a long time now. Friedrich III’s main allies were his brother-in-law the elector Frederick of Saxony and Albrecht Achilles of Brandenburg. Whilst Saxony remained broadly supportive, Albrecht Achilles’ enthusiasm for the Habsburg cause had faded a lot.

Darstellung des Albrecht Achilles auf der Predella des von ihm gestifteten Schwanenordensaltars (1484) in St. Gumbertus 

Meanwhile the party hostile to the emperor had grown substantially. There was Ludwig the Rich of Bayern-Landshut, his cousin Friedrich the Victorious, the elected archbishop of Mainz Diether von Isenburg, even count Ulrich of Württemberg, the landgrave of Hessen and the bishops of Bamberg and Würzburg joined the chorus of the discontent.

They called Friedrich III idle and pointed out that he had not shown his face in the empire for a solid 15 years, had failed to organise defence against the Turks and had sold the imperial church down the swanny. Martin Mair proposed another simple three point program: King Georg of Podiebrad should lead an imperial army against the Turks, second, that Georg of Podiebrad should guarantee an all-encompassing peace in the empire and three, that the church taxes should only be collected with the consent of the Prince Electors. Huzzah! What a great plan. Everybody was nodding. Let’s do all that.

And then Podiebrad added one more thing, he suggested they should meet again in a formal imperial diet and elect a new head of the empire to facilitate this most excellent program. And that is when they all went quiet. There was a lot of shuffling of feet until margrave Friedrich of Brandenburg, the brother of Albrecht Achilles pointed out that they were in Eger, on Bohemian soil, and that no emperor could be elected on Bohemian soil. They agreed to meet again in Nürnberg in four weeks time.

The emperor fights back

This was now serious. Though the election did not happen in Eger, it could happen at the next gathering, just a month hence. Friedrich III contacted his only true supporters, the dukes of Saxony and urged them to protect his interests. And there may have been some other diplomacy efforts under way, since the gathering at Nürnberg showed some major cracks in the united front Martin Mair had tried to engineer. Duke Ludwig the Rich of Bavaria had a long running disagreement with Albrecht Achilles of Brandenburg that came back to the fore. Friedrich the victorious and the archbishop of Mainz withdrew their support for Georg of Podiebrad for reasons I have not yet fully understood.

All they could agree on was to write a harsh letter to the emperor asking him to show up at an imperial diet on May 30th in Frankfurt and do his job for once. Friedrich dithered as usual. The situation has become so contentious that the pope now got involved. And that pope was Pius II, previously known to us as Aeneas Silvio Piccolomini, chief advisor of emperor Friedrich III. He had been elevated to the throne of Saint Peter on the back of the concordat he had negotiated on behalf of the empire (no conflict of interest here at all), his relentless efforts to organise a crusade against the Turks and his conservative position on any form of deviation from papal doctrine, theological and otherwise. He had come a long way from the man who had embraced the council of Basel and written erotic novels. Now he was a hardline defender of papal supremacy and propriety, and a very smart one at that.

Pope Pius II
By Giusto di Gand and Pedro Barruguete for the Studiolo of the duke of Urbino (Palazzo Ducale)

In concert with Friedrich’s aides, he prevented the diet in Frankfurt from taking place at all. And we see the disagreements between the imperial princes breaking up their unified front. In August 1461 he set the cat amongst the pigeons when he deposed Diether von Isenburg as archbishop of Mainz and replaced him with Adolf of Nassau which kicked off the Mainzer Stiftsfehde, binding Ulrich of Wuerttemberg, the margrave of Baden and his brothers as well as Friedrich the Victorious of the Palatinate. And the attempted reconciliation between Albrecht Achilles and Ludwig the Rich fails. Friedrich and Albrecht Achilles renew their alliance. The two sides are now set for war, on one side we have the Palatinate, Bayern-Landshut and  Diether of Isenburg, the deposed archbishop of Mainz, On the other side we have Brandenburg, Wurttemberg and Baden as well as Trier and Metz. Since we have discussed the two wars that make up this conflict in episodes 191 and 197, I will not repeat it all here. But what we had not discussed was the third front that extended this conflict to the entire south of the empire and was about to spell doom for the Habsburg emperor.

The War of the Brothers

And that was the conflict between emperor Friedrich III and his brother archduke Albrecht VI.

Two very different men

These two had been quarrelling off and on since they were teenagers. When the emperor was slow, occasionally timid and stubborn, the archduke was the true son of Ernst the Iron, seizing opportunities, easily swapping sides and quick to draw a sword. Friedrich had hoped he could appease his brother by giving him further Austria, a territory large enough to keep him occupied but not so large as to threaten him. When the brothers divided the duchy of Austria and Albrecht got the part above the Enns river, the balance had shifted. They were now almost equals. Watching Friedrich letting Bohemia and Hungary go and getting under intense pressure from inside the empire, he saw the opportunity to take the other half of the duchy of Austria from his brother.

Friedrich never cared much about Austria and he particularly disliked Vienna. Even when he was ruling Austria in his own right, he rarely showed himself in the city. Nor did he make an effort to keep law and order in the duchy. When things got very bad in 1460, he did mount another expedition against the robber barons, but brought only a meagre band of 13 evildoers to justice. That contrasted with Albrecht’s haul of 600 thieves in 1458.

In June 1462, when the empire was set alight by the Mainzer Stiftsfehde and the War of the Princes, Albrecht VI set out to take Vienna. He had joined the anti-imperial coalition and made a deal with Ludwig the Rich of Bavaria. Meanwhile inside the city of Vienna, the supporters of Albrecht had taken control. They elected Wolfgang Holzer as their new mayor.

Friedrich III comes to Vienna

Friedrich, somewhat unaware of these events came to Vienna in person to assert his claim to the duchy. He should have realised that the situation was dangerous when the city refused to open its gates to him and his small band of mercenaries. They let him in after 2 days of negotiations. Friedrich took up residence in the Hofburg and called the citizens together. He told them to replace Wolfgang Holzer, their recently elected mayor, with someone of the emperor’ choosing. They did, but then things rapidly went out of control.

As per usual, Friedrich did not have the money to pay his soldiers, so he demanded money from the city. The city refused. The soldiers began stealing stuff and found themselves being beaten up by the populace. Friedrich had to drop his candidate for mayor and Wolfgang Holzer returned to City Hall.

Holzer recommended that Friedrich left the city, as clashes could easily escalate. Friedrich refused and the clashes escalated. Friedrich and his soldiers barricaded themselves into the Hofburg.

The siege of the Hofburg

On October 5th, 1462 the citizens of Vienna rose up against their lord, the emperor Friedrich III. And on October 17th, they began the siege of the Hofburg. They wheeled their cannon onto the square before the castle and systematically brought down walls and towers.

Siege of the castle of Vienne, Woodcut late 15th century

At this point the Hofburg was still a 13th century fortress, in no conceivable way able to withstand 15th century artillery. Day by day more of the defences came down. Two weeks later Friedrich’s brother, archduke Albrecht arrives in Vienna with further reinforcements. He is quickly recognised as duke and overlord of Vienna. Albrecht offers Friedrich safe conduct for his return to Wiener Neustadt, but Friedrich refused.

For four weeks the cannon kept pounding the ancient castle where Friedrich III and his family are holding out. The situation is dire and the imperial family is starving. By now Friedrich and Eleanor had been married for 9 years. She had given birth to three children so far, the eldest, Christoph had died after a few month, but a second boy had lived. He was 2 ½ years old and his name was Maximilian, a name that had never been used in the Habsburg family or in the family of Eleanor of Portugal before. And there was another baby, Helene, who would not live much longer.

I have been married for 26 years now, so I can say with some authority, that if I had brought my wife and our two small children into a castle that is being pounded by cannon, that is surrounded by hostile locals and we were running out of food, I would come in for some criticism. And if I had got us into this situation through my stubbornness and lack of political acumen, that criticism could have become intense. There is no recording of the marital conversation between Eleanor and Friedrich, but if chroniclers write down that she had called him incompetent, you can imagine what was said in the privacy of the imperial bedchamber.

Eleanor and Maximilian, from Empress Eleanor’s Book of Hours. 

Maximilian who should have been much too young to remember these events still recounts in his autobiography that quote “he was so little and unsteady in his feet, that he had to hold someone’s hand as he descended down into the cellars. There he still heard the din of arms and the roaring of the cannon, but his mother protected him day and night with the help of the guards.” End quote.

This was even worse than the siege of Wiener Neustadt in 1452. This time their life was truly in danger, even the whole dynasty was. Neither Archduke Albrecht, nor their cousin Sigismund of Tyrol had any legitimate children, one misguided cannonball and the Habsburgs would be no more than a footnote of history.

And rightly so. Friedrich III had managed to lose two crowns for the family, Hungary and Bohemia, and a third one, the imperial one, was hanging by a thread. He had failed as emperor on all three counts. The Habsburg family unity was broken to the point that his brother had joined his enemies and was now shelling him. The few lands he actually ruled were down in the dumps and under threat from the Hungarians and the Turks.

If little Maximilian had succumbed to the horrors of the siege, history would have forgotten the Habsburgs quicker than you can say “who’s that emperor anyway”. This period, November and December 1462 is, as far as I can see, the low point of the House of Habsburg. There will be more and even more severe setbacks – Friedrich III will lose even his beloved Styria and spend his time as an itinerant emperor dependent upon the charity of his hosts. But difficult as these times were, they never again reached this level of despair.

Outlook To next week

So from next week, we will get to the second part of this season, the rise of the House of Habsburg. But if you still think that their success was only a matter of being in the right marital bed at the right time, you will find things are a bit more complicated. I hope you will join us again.

And if you want to make sure this show makes it out of this valley of tears and into the sunny uplands of Habsburg world domination, go to historyofthegermans.com/support, where you can find various options to keep us on the road and advertising free.