Part Two of the Imperial Reform (Reichsreform)

Ep. 224: Imperial Reform 1495 – The Reichstag of the Holy Roman Empire History of the Germans

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Transcript

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 224 – The Reichstag of the Holy Roman Empire

I am afraid today’s episode is not your usual swordplay and skullduggery. What we are looking at today is the Reichstag as it operated throughout the Holy Roman Empire from 1495 to 1803. Sounds a bit like dour constitutional law, but bear with me.

We will look at a couple of classic tropes, like, whether the empire consisted of more than 300 sovereign states who could do whatever they wanted, whether the Reichstag was a talking shop hat never did anything except stopping the emperor from becoming a proper monarch. And, as usual, we will talk about money and printing, and why German politician speeches are invariably long on fact and short on rhetoric.

So, let’s start at the beginning. When was the first Reichstag?

The shift from Royal Assembly (Hoftag) to Imperial diet (Reichstag)

Oh – and that is already the first booby trap. Because if you go to the historyofthegermans.com website, not just to support the show, but also to consult the transcript, you can find me mentioning a Reichstag in Worms in 1069. And if you go to the internet, you can find another Diet of Worms in 770, that was so long ago, it was called by Charlemagne’s father, Pippin the Short.

But these aren’t real Reichstage. Why? Is it because the chroniclers in the 11th century called them something different? No, there were several gatherings that were referred to as Diata Imperialii, which is Latin for Reichstag. What happened is that in the 1980s some German historians met up and decided that all Imperial assemblies that took place before 1495 were Hoftage, “Royal Assemblies”, and that those that came after Maximilian’s Imperial Reforms were to be called Reichstage, “Imperial Diets”.

Was that just down to the uncontrollable urge to categorize everything from the size of sheets of paper to the 20+ categories of delays on the Deutsche Bahn trains. Or does it mean something?

The key difference between a Hoftag and a Reichstag is the role of the king or emperor in the proceedings.

A Hoftag in the Middle Ages was all about the emperor. He called the meeting, he presided over the proceedings. If there were decisions to be made, like for instance the resolution of a dispute or the conviction of a criminal, it was the emperor who chaired the panel of judges. Princes who were dissatisfied with how things went made their views known by leaving the Hoftag. Speaking out against the emperor was not really an option.

Moritz von Schwind: Der Hoftag Ottos des Großen in Quedlinburg 973, um 1850

At the diet of Worms in 1495, things were dramatically different. As we heard last week Maximilian wasn’t allowed to take part in any of the debates. His role was limited to opening the assembly, setting the agenda and – once the imperial estates had concluded their debates – either approve or reject the proposals. So, during the weeks and months the debates were going on within the three colleges, of the electors, the princes and the cities, he was basically hopping up and down outside the locked doors shouting, give me the money, the French king  is about to slip back out of Italy and it will take fifty years of war to get rid of him again.

But he could not be heard, because he was – outside. All he could really do was gently massage the minds of participants in 1 on 1 private meetings.

In short, both the Hoftag and the Reichstag are gatherings of the most powerful people of the realm, but the Hoftag is presided over by the king, whilst the Reichstag largely excludes the king form the deliberations. This idea of banning the king except for special occasions still exists in the UK. By constitutional convention king Charles III is not allowed to enter the Commons debating chamber. The last king to set foot in there had been Charles I in 1642. And that is why the State Opening of Parliament takes place in the House of Lords, where the king is allowed to enter.

The diet in Worms was however not the first time the imperial estates got together without their king. Sometimes that was due to natural causes, as in when the king or emperor had died and the estates came together to elect a new one. But there had also been assemblies like the one in Trebur in 1076, where the excommunicated emperor Henry IV was banned from taking part (episode 33 if I am not mistaken). And then there are the assemblies where antikings were elected, like the one in March 1077, where for obvious reasons the reigning king wasn’t present.

During the 15th century, when the emperors Sigismund and Friedrich III were often far too busy to come to the assemblies they had called, the imperial estates had become accustomed to discussing their issues by themselves, so accustomed indeed that they no longer wanted him to be in the room when he finally showed up.

I did try to pin down the exact date when they threw the emperor out, but have not got to the bottom of it. What we do know is that in 1495, the rule was “No kings, no emperors indoors”.

And this obviously changed the nature of these gatherings. Earlier assemblies were grounded in the medieval understanding that vassals owed their lord not just military aid, but also advice and good counsel. Hence they were meant to improve the ruler’s decision making in war and justice by providing information or suggestions, not by forcing him in one way or another.

As we move into the 14th and 15th century, these assemblies take a more antagonistic stance, demanding that the emperor resolves key issues, like the schism, the endless feuding, marauding mercenaries or foreign incursions. As we have seen, these antagonistic stances culminated in the blow-up of 1495, where the imperial estates tried to put a gun to Maximilian’s head.

So, there really is a change in the late 15th century that justifies the distinction between Hoftag and Reichstag, but I will not go and correct every episode where I used the term Reichstag before. If this was a book, I would probably do it, but it isn’t and I won’t.

The peculiar composition of the Reichstag

In 1495 the Reichstag was by no means the only assembly that took part in the governance of kingdoms and principalities. The English parliament had already been around for 200plus years, the Polish Sejm and the Cortes of Spain and Portugal claim to be even older. There were assemblies in Hungary, Estates general in the duchy of Burgundy and France, royal councils in Denmark and Sweden. And on the level below, the imperial principalities, there were assemblies, Landstände, where representatives of the local nobility, clergy, cities and commoners agreed their position vis-a-vis their lord. The Landtag of Württemberg was one of the most prominent and lasting of these, but we encountered them as well in Austria and Tyrol in recent episodes. Almost every political entity in the 15th and 16th century had some sort of representative body alongside its ruler. They all different in terms of member selection, organisation, procedure etc, but even then, the Reichstag was very much an outlier.

Blick auf die württembergischen Landtagsgebäude in der Stuttgarter Kronprinzstraße im 19. Jahrhundert. Links an der Ecke zur Kienestraße stand das Gebäude der Ersten Kammer (Kammer der Standesherren), ganz rechts das Gebäude der Zweiten Kammer (Kammer der Abgeordneten) mit dem Halbmondsaal.

Let’s start with the composition – who is a member of the Reichstag and why?

In England parliament had the lords and the commoners, the Cortes in Spain were organized into clergy, nobles and procurators of the cities. In France, the Estates General comprised the three orders of clergy, nobility and commoners.  All of these were meant to represent their social group in their dealings with the king.

In 1521, when membership of the Reichstag was initially fixed, there were 402 estates invited to participate , divided into three colleges. The most senior college was that of the 7 electors. The College of the princes comprised 51 ecclesiastical princes, 32 secular princes, 83 prelates and 143 counts. And lastly the 86 free imperial cities formed the third college.

Reichstag in Worms 1521 (the one with Martin Luther)

But, not every count, duke or prince was admitted to the Reichstag. Only if your great,great,great,great,great and some more greats grandfather had been enfeoffed with a county or duchy directly by the emperor, then you had a seat or share of a seat in the Reichstag. However, if you were a wealthy count, even if you were three times richer and three times more powerful than the wealthiest count in the Reichstag, but you were a vassal of a territorial prince, no dice. Equally only free imperial cities were admitted, even though many were smaller than say Stralsund or Rostock. The key difference to England, France and almost everywhere else is that the Reichstag was not based on social orders, like noble, churchman or commoner, but based on whether or not there was a direct vassalage connection to the emperor – the famous immediacy.

Basically the Reichstag reflected and continued the feudal status hierarchy which was already ancient history by 1495. The idea was that the obligation of the imperial vassals to provide advice and council to the king, was flipped into a right to take part in the decision making. And this right was not based on being a member of a particular social group like noble, clergy or commoner, but on the ancient bond of vassalage, established hundreds of years ago and renewed dozens of times since. That explains the presence of the free imperial cities. They too had become vassals of the emperor when he had granted them their charter. They were there not to represent the interests of the urban population of the empire, but to safeguard the interest and liberties of their hometowns.

The Quaternion Eagle, hand-coloured woodcut (c. 1510) by Hans Burgkmair.

If one were to take this logic to its conclusion the imperial knights who were direct vassals of the emperor should have been invited to vote in the Reichstag. But logic is apparently only for those who can afford it.

The historian Peter Wilson describes this unusual structure of the empire as a “mixed Monarchy”. If you really want to understand how the Holy Roman Empire worked, get his brilliant book alternatively called “The Heart of Europe” or “The Holy Roman Empire”. This is where most of what I am taking about today comes from.

What was the Reichstag and all these other assemblies for?

Now, having discussed the intellectual Uberbau of the Reichstag as a continuation of the feudal structure in a modernized form, let’s talk about the practical purpose of these assemblies and the Reichstag in particular.

These early modern assemblies were not meant as a representation of the will of the people or some such newfangled stuff. They served two basic purposes, one was to grant a special status to the important constituents of the realm, usually the bishops, dukes, counts, nobles etc. That was supposed to keep them engaged and aligned with the king or prince. The assembly was a place to find consensus amongst the people who really mattered.

Secondly, assemblies and parliaments were there to facilitate tax collection. Most kings and princes did not have their own tax collection infrastructure. That meant they were to a large extent dependent on the willingness of their subjects to cough up the cash. Such willingness is typically correlated to the amount of influence the payer has over the use of the funds, or for our American friends, no taxation without representation. Hence most of the early modern estates included some form of representation of those who ended up paying. And in many cases the estates established and maintained the tax collection infrastructure, thereby ensuring the fairness or sometimes unfairness of the process.

That is why most of these assemblies had a separate chamber or order for the commoners who bore the lion’s share of the tax burden created by the lord’s decision to support the king’s wars, palace building or mistresses.

If you look at the parliament In England and the estates general in France you can see a fairly clean picture – the nobles and clergy debate the grand politics and then the funding is put t the Commons or Tiers Etat. And you can see how this pattern then developed further, either organically as in England or as a rupture in France. The taxpaying Commons and Tiers Etat demanded more and more say in the big decisions and then power shifts to these precursors of modern parliaments.

The French Estates General in 1561

Why the Reichstag could not become the nucleus of a democratic parliament

The Reichstag did not experience such a trajectory. It started in 1495, ran until 1803 and was revived in a fundamentally different form in 1866/1871.

The stability of the membership

Part of why the Reichstag never became a true representative structure was the fixed membership. In England the king can and always could appoint literally anyone to the house of Lords, like for instance a 29-year old parliamentary aide with no publicly known skills or achievements.

In the empire, that was not that easy. For example the Liechtensteins, who had for centuries been amongst the largest landowners in Bohemia, Moravia and Austria were elevated to imperial princes during the 30-years war. But it took them almost another century before they could purchase the tiny fiefs of Vaduz and Schellenberg that gave them access to the Reichstag and are today the country of Liechtenstein.

Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor receives the Augsburg Confession at the Diet of Augsburg on 25 June 1530

Effectively the membership of the Reichstag shrunk throughout most its history. In 1521, the initial tally was 402 imperial estates and by 1792 that had gone down to 204 imperial estates. If you forget about the back and forth with the Palatine vote, only one Elector was added before 1803, the Elector of Hannover. The secular princes went from 51 to 84, in part through the elevation of counts to princes. 21 of the 51 ecclesiastical principalities disappeared during the reformation. Imperial cities shrank from 86 to 51 and the number of counts fell from 143 to 48 through expiry of the family, sale or elevation to princely rank. Only about fifty new members were created throughout that period.

Stability in the upper house is neither unusual nor an impediment to a transition to a modern parliament. In England the House of Lords was slowly sidelined and in France the Assemblée Nationale did away with the colleges of the nobles and their heads. It is the representation of the commoners that tended to be the nucleus of democracy.

The lopsided structure of the taxation model

As we said, the reason that commoners are invited to assemblies is because they pay the lion’s share of the taxes. And matters of burden sharing and taxation gave parliament and the Assemblee Nationale their role in the English and the French Revolution.

The Reichstag could never play such a role, because the Reichstag did not decide on individual taxation. In 1495 the Reichstag approved the “common penny” a tax levied on every household in the empire. That system failed, mainly because the empire could not collect the tax. The princes had refused to let the emperor use their infrastructure to the extent they had one in the first place. Collection was then given to the parish priests. And parish priests had no interest in chasing their flock for some imperial tax they would not see any benefit from.

After this failure the empire reverted back to the system of the Imperial register or Imperial Matrikel that existed since 1420. This register contained a fixed quota of soldiers each imperial estate had to provide if called. So for instance the duke of Cleves owed 60 horse and 540 men on foot, whilst the abbot of St. Maximian owed 6 horse and 44 men on foot. Such small contingents had become ineffective by the 1500s, so the obligation was converted into a cash contribution.

Soldiers on horse (Ross) and on foot (xu Fuss) in the Reichsmatrikel of 1532.

This system had a number of advantages. First, it allowed to break down the overall commitment made to the imperial estates. So if the Reichstag awarded 100,000 florins for a campaign against the Turk, it was clear to the last penny how much of that the duke of Cleves or the abbot of St. Maximian owed. It also allowed the wealthiest estates, namely the great cities to hide how wealthy they really were. If taxes had been collected directly, for one it would be hard to predict how much would actually be collected, and it would show how many taxable households there were in say Nürnberg. And if the neighboring princes had known how much wealth there was, the cities feared, they would be gobbled up.

On the downside, the Matrikel system was a) very imbalanced, with some places paying high dues relative to economic capacity and others low ones and b) only very rarely reset. So the matrikel became a sort of unit of measure. For instance during the long Turkish war 1663 to 1742, the Reichstag would regularly express their commitment as x times the matrikel, i.e., x times their commitment in the imperial register.  

All this meant was that the level of taxation agreed in the Reichstag had limited impact on the man on the street. Sure, if the empire demanded very high contributions, their local lord would raise local taxes to pay for it. However, when the emperor asked for lower or no taxes, the local lord was unlikely to reduce the tax burden. He would simply keep it for him or herself. Moreover, maximum 10% of the empire’s population lived in the free imperial cities represented in the Reichstag. Even if these estates had an interest in keeping taxes low for the common man, they did not care for the other 90% of the empire’s population. And because the composition of the Reichstag was extremely static, that never changed.

The Reichstag as part of the “Status Hierarchy”

So, if the Reichstag was not about representing the interests of social groups, not even in the rather rudimentary early modern/medieval way, what was it about?

In the main, it was a about status. The empire was held together by the status hierarchy it conveyed to its members. Say you were a Prince Elector, the highest princely rank in the empire with the right to elect the emperor. This status can only exist as long as there is an empire and an emperor to elect. Therefore, even once the elections had become non-contentious acclamation of whichever Habsburg’s turn it was, there were still elections, so that the electors could feel valued and important. You may think how backward, but I find this a lot less ridiculous than the French aristocrats believing their self-worth was dependent on which part of the royal underwear they could pass to his majesty during their morning levee.  

The election of Matthias as Roman-German Emperor by the prince electors in 1612 depicted on a contemporary engraving

This status model was extremely successful, arguably more successful than anything the emperors had tried in the centuries before.

You may painfully remember that we split the History of the Germans some two years ago and discussed the North, namely the Eastern Expansion into the formerly Slavic lands east of the Elbe, the Hanseatic League and the Teutonic Knights. The reason for that was that the empire had broken into two parts, the lands near to the king and the lands far from the king.

The former were mainly southern Germany, Austria, Bohemia and the Rhine Valley, lands where the kings and emperors had their base, where they would often pass through on their way to coronations, elections and imperial diets. Meanwhile the lands north of the Main River and East of the Rhine had drifted further and further away from the imperial orbit. Martin Rady commented that the very first time an emperor came to Pomerania was in 1712, and that was the emperor of all the Russians.

All itineraries of emperors from 919-1519 by Carl Müller-Crepon1Clara Neupert-Wentz2Andrej Kokkonen3Jørgen Møller2

Basically the dukes of Mecklenburg, Holstein, Oldenburg, Brunswick, Calenberg etc. barely featured in the imperial history since the 11th century and even the electors of Saxony and Brandenburg put in only brief appearances. Basically they did not see much value in what the empire had to offer and they got busy with the Scandinavian Kingdoms, England and Poland.

The imperial reforms of 1495 changed that. Being an imperial prince with a full vote in the college of Princes provided them with a sense of importance and status that suddenly made it worth while getting involved with imperial politics again. Status was not the only thing, the other institutions, like the courts, the eternal peace etc., played a role as well.

But this was a time where status was exceedingly important. Princes were constantly stretching themselves and their states to keep up with the Joneses’. If your neighbor built a theatre, you needed one too. Your collection of Chinese porcelain had to be on par with the other princes. At weddings and hunts, you had to scrub up not just nicely but real nice. The obsession filled the country with literally thousands of baroque palaces, gardens, follies, hunting lodges, opera houses and whatever a discerning prince could need. Each one trying to be a mini or sometimes maxi Versailles and always, always, bigger and better than the one next door.     

Schloss Nymphenburg – just an example

Apart from self-aggrandization, the status component did also have tangible benefits for those who had it. Basically once an entity had become an imperial estate, it had become unlikely that they would fall under the control of a territorial prince. For instance, not a single free imperial city lost their status after 1607. And that mattered.

Take the city of Trier is an example. Trier had sent its archbishop off to live out his life in Koblenz and had become a free city. As a free city, they were invited to come to the Reichstag in 1495 and several occasions thereafter. They even hosted a Reichstag in 1512. But most of the time, Trier did not show up and, crucially, refused to commit to the imperial taxation system. So the city was unceremoniously dropped from the 1521 register.  When they realized what they had done, they desperately wanted to get back in and crucially, be again recognized as a free, imperial city. But the Imperial court, the Reichskammergericht decided in 1580 that, if you did not pay, you had no right to play. And now it was too late to come back in. The Archbishop took back control of the city and the dream of freedom and independence was over, sacrificed by a stingy accountant.

That explains why the much wiser burghers of Lübeck, who had had only scant interaction with the empire until then, decided to pay 4x what they used to in order to be a member of the Reichstag. Lübeck remained a free imperial city and and later a city state within Germany until 1937. Money well spent I would say.

The Decision making process in the Reichstag

Decision making in the Reichstag was famously laborious and slow. Jakb Wimpfeling said already in 1500 that  “The Reichstag is a body where the Emperor proposes, the colleges deliberate in secret, vote separately, then quarrel endlessly until nothing is decided—or everything is diluted to meaninglessness.”  Regensburg, where the Reichstag would sit permanently after 1663 was better known for the quality of its taverns than of its debates.

As we discussed last week, there were three separate colleges, one for the electors, one for the imperial princes as well as the counts and prelates and one for the imperial cities. Voting happened first within the colleges followed by an arbitration process between the colleges. That arbitration process began with aligning electors and princes before the cities were brought in. Only once all three colleges had reached unanimity did the Reichstag decision go to the emperor who had only the choice between accepting or sending it back to be debated for another month or two.   

The opening of the Reichstag

That sounds complex already, and when you take into account that there were 402 imperial estates with a seat in the Reichstag, it sounds almost impossible to manage.

But here is the good news, only 281 of the 402 imperial estates ever participated in a Reichstag. Usually no more that half of the invitees showed up. Even at the crucial Reichstag of 1495 only 147 estates were present.

And there is the other important point. Because the seat was linked to the territory, not to individuals, one single individual could represent more than one vote. So, if a bishop held several bishoprics, he had multiple votes. Or if a count sold his county, or passed it on via inheritance, this vote could now be exercised by someone else. After the reformation, several bishoprics became principalities and integrated into other territorial lordships. And occasionally fiefs moved across as a consequence of war.

So, after all this two and fro in 1792 Austria held 1 electoral vote, 3 princely votes and 2 comital votes. Prussia, though smaller  in territory, had 1 electoral, but 8 princely and 1 comital vote. Of the remaining 84 princely votes, 30 were held by bishops and abbots, the rest by 35 secular princes and electors plus Denmark and Sweden with one vote each.

The smaller entities did not really matter. The 48 counts and 40 prelates shared just 6 votes of the 90 votes in the College of Princes. The 51 remaining cities were so disadvantaged by the voting process, their influence was also usually marginal.

If you then take into account that many of the ecclesiastical princes were second sons of the princely or electoral houses, the Reichstag really required only about 40 to 50 individuals to agree. And since rarely more than half of them showed up, we are looking at more like 20-30 guys taking the decisions. That sounds a lot more viable than 402.

Were there really over 300 sovereign states in the empire?

Basically these hundreds tiny statelets did not carry much weight in the Reichstag. And the idea that they were like independent sovereigns is also not true. Sure, the very largest ones, Austria, Prussia, Saxony, Hannover would forge their own foreign policy and sent envoys to foreign courts, occasionally courts where they were themselves the king, as for example in England, Poland, Denmark, Russia and Sweden.

But for someone like the counts of Hohenlohe-Weikersheim with their six villages and oversized Schloss, there was no way they would send an envoy abroad. At a stretch they may appoint a representatives to the Reichstag, but usually only as a joint effort together with their cousins in Neuenstein and Öhringen and still their representative was not be working exclusively for them. If they had to take a stance in major conflicts, they usually aligned with one of their bigger neighbors.

Schloss Weikersheim

Such micro-principalities were much more involved in the 10 imperial circles which we will discuss in more detail next week.

What powers did the Reichstag have?

The English parliament and many other assemblies had the power to decide on war and peace, since they controlled the money needed to conduct such wars.

On paper that was the same in the Reichstag. If the emperor wanted to take the empire to war against for example France, he could only do that with the consent of the Reichstag. However, every imperial estate, even a tiny one, was allowed to go to war against foreign enemies, provided it did not harm neither the emperor nor the empire. For example in 1698 the elector of Saxony joined Russia in a war against Sweden without asking the Reichstag. And that logic applied to the emperor as well. He could go to war against France in his capacity as Lord of the Low Countries and archduke of Austria.

The emperor only required the Reichstag consent for his war with France, if he wanted access to imperial resources, either in the form of taxes or military forces. As we have seen with Maximilian I in 1495, that can occasionally be decisive, but not always. And if they could conduct the war using just their own resources, the Habsburg occasionally did go without Reichstag approval. I guess in about 2 years, when we have worked our way through the incessant wars of the 16th, 17th and 18h century, we will have a much better perspective on whether the Reichstag and its support mattered to the outcome.

Reichstag matters beyond war and peace

War and taxes was however not the only topic of debate in the Reichstag. Its other tacit objective as to improve co-ordination and coherence across the empire.

The Reichstag for instance ensured that people could move freely between the imperial estates. The problem then was not so much people trying to come in, rather than people trying to get away, for example from the draft into the Prussian army, religious prosecution or just general economic malaise. Quite often the states competed for immigrants, like the French Huguenots in order to refill the population depleted by war and disease. The Reichstag ensured that most people in the empire could take advantage of these sometimes generous offers.

Another issue that came up regularly was coinage. For centuries the emperors had been forced to pass the imperial regalia to the princes, which included the right to mint their own coins. So that by 1495 there were 456 places with the right to produce currency. Minting was a short term money spinner for many cash strapped princes, because they could call in the existing coins in their lands and reissue coin with lower gold or silver content. Or they would simply create vast amounts of debased coins to pay their soldiers, resulting in immediate inflation and occasionally a financial crash.

A Book on the exchange rates of coins in the Holy Roman Empire in 1709

The Reichstag passed rules limiting the number of mints to no more than 40, set standards for the two most common coins, the Florin and the Thaler and intervened again and again in cases of debasement. They did not succeed completely and there were always wildly different coins in circulation, but they curbed the worst excesses. And maybe one central currency in the hand of an absolutist king would not have been such a great idea – just ask the French about the Mississippi bubble.

Similar efforts were made to reduce the number of toll stations that seriously hampered trade. For instance transporting salt from Frankfurt to Cologne added 60% in tolls. As a consequence merchants would unload wine south of Mainz and transport them over land via Frankfurt and Kassel and then on the Weser down to the North Sea. An absurd detour. Here the Reichstag was less successful, but note that in 1766 France still employed 20,000 revenue officers collecting tolls on domestic traffic and treated Lorraine as a foreign country.

Another – unintended – benefit of the Reichstag was that it provided a sort of permanent international conference. The Habsburgs had of course a permanent presence, as did the kings of Denmark and Sweden. Envoys from France and Italy could easily come to the Reichstag and use it as a platform for informal discussions.

The Bureaucracy

Something else that is quite specific to the Reichstag was the amount of paper it produced. For one, most Reichstag decisions were published in print, the first one in 1486. The Corpus Recessum Imperii that recorded all the Reichstag decisions was first published in 1501, a solid 270 years before Hansard recorded the debates in the English parliament. The proceedings at  the Reichstag became part of a broad political information exchange that got turbo boosted when the Thurn and Taxis family opened the imperial postal service to private users in 1516. Germany had the first daily newspaper in Europe, 67 years before England. Apparently in the 16th and 17th centuries this country of poets and thinkers was full of news junkies.

Heiliges Römisches Reich: Neue und vollständigere Sammlung der Reichs-Abschiede, Welche von den Zeiten Kayser Conrads des II. bis jetzo, auf den Teutschen Reichs-Tägen abgefasset worden. 1, … Theil derer Reichs-Abschiede, bis auf das Jahr 1494. inclusive

In general, the Reichstag was mainly driven by written memoranda and weighty policy papers, not by rousing speeches. That had a lot to do with the habit of sending representatives to the Reichstag. The gatherings were scheduled for 2 months and often went on much longer. Most  princes found it impossible or inopportune to leave their comfy palaces for such a long time. Moreover, the Reichstag was initially gathering in different imperial cities, before it finally settled in Regensburg. If the empire had had a capital, the important princes would have established a town palace there, as was the case in Paris, Madrid or London. And in that case they would have attended in person more often. But with an itinerant Reichstag, a large proportion of participants had sent their councilors or envoys. And they would rarely have the authority to commit their prince on matters not previously discussed.

That rendered stirring speeches rather useless. The audience could not really decide matters on their own. So they would ask for a written copy of the speech they could send to their boss with a suggestion on how to vote. They would receive a letter back, which they would read out to their fellow deputies, who would in turn ask for a copy of this letter to send to their bosses and then receive a letter back, that would be read out and copied so forth, and so forth and so forth. This made the process very slow and, I think the polite word is, lifeless.

Handbook of German Laws (1787), 814 pages (for just just parts 6,7 and 8)

However, it had a couple of advantages. The public could follow the debates almost in real time even if they were hundreds of miles away. And given that waving arms and rhetoric flourishes were effectively pointless, the debate became more focused on facts and the thorough review of competing arguments.

I do not have a source for this, but I believe this tradition of written debate aimed at the rational weighing of arguments has been embedded into German political discourse. Debates in the Bundestag are shockingly dry and dour, in particular when compared to the intellectual sparring at Prime Minister’s question time or at Senate Hearings.

That can of course be because Germans have come out of the 20th century with a strong suspicion of stirring speeches. But even before 1933, Germany did not have debating societies like the Oxford Union that rates rhetoric over content. The Lesegesellschaften or reading societies of the 18th and 19th century tried to find a deeper understanding of politics, poetry and philosophy, not to crown a winner.

So maybe 300 years of swapping written memoranda had left an imprint on the German political culture that we now refuse to shake.

Summary

If we pull it all this together, the Reichstag was verbose, slow, unexciting, all about status, not representation and not as effective as one would have wanted. And it slowed down the consolidation of the German lands by effectively guaranteeing the continued existence of its smaller members. All this is true. But one could look at it in another way, even though it was more bureaucratic than the EU, less able to prevent war than the UN and had more freeriders than Nato, it ensured the empire remained together as an entity for another 300 years. If we look to the southern part of what had once been the medieval empire, Italy. They did not have a co-ordination mechanism like the Reichstag. They consolidated into five large and maybe a dozen smaller states. But throughout these 300 years plus another 50 or so, Itay’s states were vassals of Spain and Austria, unable to determine their own destiny.

I expect we will spend quite a lot more time with the Reichstag as the Podcast winds its way through the 16th, 17th and 18th century. It is hence far too early to come to a conclusion on whether the Reichstag of the holy Roman Empire was good or a bad, or just the best possible solution to a complex situation. I hope you will stick around until we get to 1806 and can really  take stock.

And if you want to make sure we get to the end of the empire without advertising and undue haste, you can do so by going to historyofthegermans.com/support and make a contribution, just like Matt B., Hilary R., Michael P., Chris, Henrietta B. Shawn S. and Alexander D. have already done.

The End of the Unversal Empire

Ep. 222: Maximilian I (1493-1519) – Italian Wars and Spanish Marriages History of the Germans

Transcript

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 222 – Italian Wars and Spanish Marriages

The world is a-changing. Maximilian I may still dream of the medieval universal empire where he will lead Christendom in an epic crusade to expel the Turks from the European mainland, even reconquering Jerusalem. Meanwhile his main adversary, king Charles VIII of France unleashed the fury of war in Italy, kicking off a struggle that would last for 50 years and replaced the medieval world of popes and emperors with a system based on the balance of powers.

In the near term, this expedition to conquer the kingdom of Naples triggered not only the outbreak of Syphilis, but also the double marriage between Habsburg and Spain that Maximilian did not want, but ended up being the second of the three marriages that created an empire.

Lots to get through, none of it boring..

But before we start it is once more time for me to go to Augsburg and beg for some more funds to raise and equip my modest podcast set-up. I know that you know that I can never pay it back, other than with my sincere, heartfelt and eternal gratitude. And if you too hanker after such deep felt sentiment, go to historyofthegermans.com/support and join the most generous Mary J H., Barry T., Aleksandar A., Tudor C., Matthew J, Carnicelli and Brett C.

And with that, back to the show.

Last week we saw Maximilian of Habsburg reconquering and consolidating the lands of his family. For the first time in XXXX years, there was only one member of the family who held Austria, Styria, Carinthia, Tyrol and Further Austria. Maximilian had also added Flanders, Brabant, Holland, Hainault, Seeland, Luxemburg and the Franche Comte to the family fortune, most of what is today Belgium, Luxemburg and the Netherlands. Friesland and Gelders would take a bit longer, but came on to the roster eventually.

Habsburg empire in 1547

And then, in August 1493 Maximilian’s father, the emperor Friedrich III expires at the tender age of 77 and after 53 years of keeping the throne of the Holy Roman Empire warm. His health had been deteriorating for a while now and in June his doctors had amputated his sclerotic left leg. This widely documented medical procedure was hailed as hugely successful, though the patient died three months later, allegedly from excessive consumption of melons.

Amputation of the leg of Friedrich III

Friedrich III has been a steady companion of this show for 12 episodes, often in the background, and when in the spotlight it was mainly because he had once more lost a city, a battle, a duchy or a kingdom. He had his highpoint at the siege of Neuss and he could get his son elected King of the Romans, a feat not many emperors had achieved before him. But the low points and disappointments prevailed. Being besieged inside the Hofburg in Vienna by his brother and the burghers of the city was the moment where the dynasty could have failed for good, and his last years as a wandering homeless emperor in name only did little to strengthen the esteem the office was held in.

Over the previous decades the reception of Friedrich III has improved significantly. The 19th century had dubbed him the imperial arch sleepy hat and blamed him for the continued erosion of imperial power. Modern historians see him more as man who tried to maintain as much of the institution as he could, given his limited resources. He was persistent in retaining the imperial prerogatives, even if he was unable to exercise them. He had steadfastly resisted the calls to reform the empire into a loose confederation led by the imperial princes, even when he stood literally with the back against the wall.

This makes a lot of sense to me, in as much as the duchies of Austria, Styria and Carinthia were indeed not enough to sustain a forceful imperial administration. Even more so considering their  geographical location on the eastern edge of the empire.

On the other hand, the 15th century was a time where ambitious and smart men were able to forge kingdoms. Charles VII of France had been disinherited by his mother and father, most of his kingdom had been occupied by English and Burgundian forces and still by the time his son Louis XI died, France was the largest and most coherent power on the continent. Henry VII, the first Tudor king had spent 14 years in exile and carried only a thimble of royal blood and still brought an end to civil war and created a platform on which his descendant could build one of the most successful political entities the world had ever seen. Matthias Corvinus was the son of a hero, but came to the throne as a puppet of the magnates, and turned Hungary into a modern, militarised country. Jogaila, the pagan grand duke of Lithuania, created a dynasty that in 1493 ruled Poland, Lithuania, Bohemia and Hungary.

The empire of the Jagioellons

Friedrich III was simply not like these aggressive, daring men. He was a high aristocrat of the old school who believed that all this power was owed to him because of his lineage or because it had been foretold in the tale of the 95 rulers of Austria, or because Caesar and Nero had singled Austria out for world domination. A.E.I.O.U.

Meanwhile his son Maximilian was one of these aggressive Renaissance gamblers who put everything on red in order to win an empire. He had himself emerged victorious from the war of the Burgundian inheritance having received barely any support from his father or the empire until the very last moment. And as we will see in the upcoming episodes, he would again and again make high stakes bets that just happen to come good.

But at the same time, he was the son of his father. He deeply believed in the sanctity and superiority of the imperial office and the Habsburgs predestination to hold this title until the end of times. He saw his purpose in leading Christendom in its war against the Turks and constantly called crusades aimed at freeing first Constantinople and then Jerusalem. These other kings, the French, English, Polish, Spanish and so forth, they should be subordinate to him once he was crowned emperor.

Just to be clear, he was wasn’t mad thinking these much more powerful rulers would be at his back and call. He saw them more like the Imperial princes, largely autonomous, but in crucial matters of the continent, obliged to follow his lead. His political philosophy was deeply routed in this idea of the universal roman empire.

One incident that shows the state of this universal empire was when he established diplomatic relationships with the principality of Muscovy. At this point Ivan III, the grandfather of Ivan the Terrible went by the title of Grand Prince of Moscow, but occasionally use the term Tsar, as in Caesar or emperor of all the Russians. Maximilian offered him the elevation to king, something he could do in his function as emperor, even emperor in waiting. But Ivan III refused, saying that he was the successor of the emperors of Constantinople and did not recognise the Habsburg as his emperor. Only a small blow to this idea of a universal imperial authority, but too small to be noticed. However, not the last.

As emperor, Maximilian believed that Northern, if not all of Italy was part of his realm. Sure, no emperor had exercised any tangible power in Italy since the days of Henry VII, but formally, Italy was still part of the empire. When the Gonzagas in Mantua, the Este in Ferrara or the Sforza in Milan wanted to take on ducal titles, they looked to the emperor for a patent that made them so. The emperor was also occasionally called on to arbitrate conflicts or to acknowledge lines of succession.

Maximilian, fresh from gaining Burgundy and Tirol, from reconquering Austria and becoming the sole ruler of the empire after his father’s death, now took a closer look at Italy, specifically at Milan.

By 1493 Milan had become one of the most important states in Italy, alongside Venice, Naples, Florence and the Papacy. It had incorporated several of the old city republics that had featured so prominently in the story of Barbarossa and Fredrick II, namely Piacenza, Pavia, Parma, Cremona, Lodi, Novara, Tortona and Alessandria. Its de facto ruler was Ludovico Sforza, called il Moro, the son of the great condottiere Francesco Sforza who had taken the duchy over from the Visconti family.

Ludovico ruled on behalf of his nephew Gian Galeazzo Maria, but was very keen to become duke in his own right. The only person who could do that legally and formally, was now Maximilian. In exchange for recognising his position Ludovico offered Maximilian two things he needed desperately at this point, money, and a wife. Money is something Maximilian always needed, in particular if the sum offered was 400,000 gulden, roughly twice his annual income at the time. And Maximilian needed a wife. This whole affair of the heiress of Brittany, little Anne, had left a bad aftertaste.

Map of Italy in 1494

Maximilian had shouted from the rooftops that his bride had been abducted by the perfidious French king Charles VIII, but in 1493 had made peace and was now busy brushing the whole affair under the carpet. The best way to achieve that was another high profile marriage that makes him look as if he had rejected Anne, not the other way around.

So, on March 16, 1494 Maximilian married Bianca Maria Sforza, the niece of Ludovico il Moro. Despite her beautiful name and vast riches, Maximilian lost interest in her very quickly. She turned out to be a little bit thick, a bit too fond of sweats and jewels and just generally not great company. So, this time, Maximilian does not fall in love with his spouse. What he had instead was a regular supply of mistresses, some of whom bore him children, though it is unclear how many. Wikipedia counts 15, contemporary sources say 8. Several in any case, though he did not have any children with Bianca Maria Sforza.

Profilbildnis Kaiserin Bianca Maria di Galeazzo Maria Sforza (1472-1510)

The year 1494 did hence start off not too bad. He got married, he got money from his new ally in Milan, he is now sole ruler of the empire and his lands are gradually recovering from the endless warfare and strife. He even undertakes the traditional Umritt, the journey across the empire where he received grand welcomes, renewal of feudal vows and general acclamation.

But all that joy and celebration turns to panic and despair when news arrive that king Charles VIII of France had set off on a military expedition to take the kingdom of Naples. That went to the heart of Maximilian’s political vision. He wanted France encircled by hostile nations, the English in the North, the Spaniards in the south and him in the West. If France gained powerful positions in Italy, that grand plan was dust. Moreover, Charles VIII had dubbed his invasion a crusade hinting at a long term plan to attack the Ottomans from Naples. That too was not on, because in Maximilian’s world, a crusade would attack in the Balkans and was to be led by him, and nobody else. Moreover, if Charles VIII was successful in a crusade, what would stop him from asking the pope to crown him emperor. As Matthew Paris had declared already way back in the 1250s: “Where is it written that the Germans should make the roman emperor”. This is the same concern that had convinced Henry VII that it was paramount for him to get involved in Italian affairs. Moreover, the pope in 1494 was Alexander VI, Roderigo Borgia, a man whose reputation for corruption and ambition reverberates through history books and tv series.

Portrait of King Charles VIII of France (1470–1498), wearing the Collar of the Order of Saint Michael

What Maximilian and europe will learn in the coming decades is that his ideas about crusades, empire and the unity of Christendom are completely and utterly outdated. The Europe of 1500 is fundamentally different to the Europe of 1400 and unrecognisable from the Europe of 1200.

The great wars of the 14th and 15th century were in the main domestic conflicts over leadership and internal consolidation. The Reconquista was about unifying the Iberian peninsula, the Hundred years war was about the role of the king of France vis-à-vis his vassals, which included the duke of Burgundy and the king of England, Poland’s war against the Teutonic Knights was about submission of an independent state within their territory. The wars in the Holy Roman Empire and Italy were over the relative power of individual entities in the absence of a powerful king.

By the end of the 15th century many of these wars have come to their conclusion. The Spanish completed the Reconquista with the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella in 1469 and the conquest of Grenada in 1492. The Hundred Years War and the marriage of Charles VIII to Anne of Bretagne consolidated almost the entirety of France under control of the crown. Equally the Tudor kings Henry VII and Henry VIII held direct sovereignty over England and Wales without intermediation by the dukes. In other words we are now having multiple political entities in europe that have the ability to raise extraordinary amounts of money in direct taxes from their subjects. And these taxes are converted into permanent armed forces or the hiring of trained mercenaries. And once you have those, the scale and scope of war changed.

Europe in 1500

We are now having kingdoms fighting against each other for supremacy, preferably on third party soil. Victory no longer means the defeated prince swears allegiance to the victor and returns to his or her palace. Now victory results in the annexation of territory and the removal of the previous management. There is no longer an emperor as a central authority tasked with maintaining peace between the parties, not even in theory. In 1414 Europe accepted that the emperor Sigismund had a responsibility to bring an end to the Great Western Schism. By 1500, that would no longer be the case.

The Italian war will change all that. In this war we will find French heavy cavalry, Spanish infantry, Swiss mercenaries, German Landsknechte, even English and Scottish soldiers fighting against and alongside Italians on Italian soil but not mainly for Italians, but for foreigners.

Batttle of Pavia tapestry

When previously the emperors came down to Italy, they travelled through what most people believed was their empire. They did fight, not as foreigners against “the Italians”, but as the overlord against their insurgent cities and the pope. Barbarossa did not come to conquer Italy, he came to reassert his authority in Italy as emperor. Where he found resistance it was from cities who did oppose, not his overlordship as such, but his level of interference.

What is happening now is that foreign armies come to Italy to conquer it and incorporate it into their realm. And that is why the invasion of Italy by Charles VIII is the moment when the political landscape of europe flips from the medieval to the early modern.

But I am jumping ahead. Let’s first look at why Charles VIII set out for Italy with an army of 1,900 Lances, 1,200 mounted archers and 19,000 mostly Swiss infantry in August 1494.

As a I mentioned before, the Italian communes were no more. Italy had become a patchwork of larger and smaller states. Some were nominally republics like Florence, Siena and Venice, but most were under control of a single ruler, some of them had been graced with imperial titles like the marquess of Mantua or the dukes of Urbino, Ferrara and Milan, others remained just Signore.

The five biggest states were Venice, Milan, Naples, the Papacy and Florence.

Let me go through them one by one.

The city of Venice had done exceedingly well, since, well since its founding. By the late 15th century the Venetians controlled the Adriatic as well as multiple trading posts along the eastern mediterranean giving them access to the luxury goods coming down the silk roads into Constantinople, Alexandria and lots of smaller ports. Its power rested on its navy that at its peak comprised 3,000 ships manned by 36,000 sailors. In its famous dockyards, the Arsenale,16,000 workers produced one galley a day using standardised parts for construction and fit out, a process that looked a lot like modern industrial manufacturing.

And Venice had also begun to acquire more and more of its hinterland. The first acquisition on the mainland was Mestre in 1337 and within about a hundred years, Venice had pushed through to Padova, Treviso, Vicenza, Verona, Friuli, and then Bergamo, Brescia, Crema, Cremona and Lodi. These latter acquisitions brought Venice into conflict with neighbouring Milan.

Venice had an interest in Naples too, in as much as the  straights of Otranto were the narrow access point into their Adriatic.

Milan, as I mentioned had gone from the Visconti to the Sforza. In this process the duchy had shrunk, in particular by conceding cities to Venice. But it was still a formidable power, controlled, albeit precariously by Ludovico Sforza, called il Moro.

Traditionally Milan had allied with Florence against Venice and Venice had found support in Naples. This opposition to Naples continued into the late 15th century. Ludovice Sforza was specifically concerned that the Neapolitans were trying to undermine his position by supporting his nephew Gian Galeazzo Maria, who was after all the true heir to the duchy of Milan.

Which gets us to Naples. Unlike the other states, Naples was originally a kingdom, the kingdom of Sicily. Sicily had changed hands a few times since its foundation by Roger II. You may remember that Charles of Anjou from a junior branch of the French royal house, had wrestled the kingdom of Sicily from the Hohenstaufen. He did however lose the island of Sicily to the kings of Aragon in the Sicilian Vespers (episode 92). The Aragonese and the Anjou spent about a hundred and fifty years staring at each other across the straits of Messina, until Alfonso V of Aragon made a move on the mainland, which by then had become known as the kingdom of Naples. The ins and outs of this exceedingly complex process is impossible to recount here. For this and all the other stories, I recommend a History of Italy where Mike Corradi takes you through all these shenanigans in his inimitable style. And the History of Venice will in time cover the Venetian leg of the story.

Bottom line is, the Aragonese conquered the kingdom of Naples and sent the Anjou packing. The last of them, Rene, passed his time in Provence where he became known as the Good king Rene.

Meanwhile the new king, Alfonso of Aragon decided to give this kingdom of Naples to his illegitimate son, Ferdinand, or as the Italians called him, Ferrante. Ferrante was an exceptionally capable, cruel and ruthless ruler who made himself into one of the most powerful and influential figures in Renaissance Italy.

Naples main interest lay due north of them, in the papal states. For one, the popes were his direct neighbours, but the pope was also the overlord of Sicily with the right to determine who was the king. Given Ferrante’s  birth out of wedlock, that was an important issue. Naples tended to ally with Venice, whose fleet could put pressure on the popes, and who needed to get its ships through the narrow straits of Otranto.

Please bear with me, we are nearly done with this epic simplification.

The papacy was still in an awful state. The council of Constance had ended the schism in 1418 and pope Martin V was again the sole pope ruling from the eternal city. But during the schism and then in the struggle between the church councils and the popes, many monarchies had agreed concordats with the popes that granted the national churches autonomy from Rome. France, England, Spain and the Habsburg lands had national churches where the pope had scarce influence over the appointment of bishops and had limited call on church taxes. Thanks to Friedrich III’s poor negotiations, the empire became the largest source of external revenues for the papacy, an issue we already touched upon in episode 209 are going to encounter again I am sure.

Italy in 1499

Given there was not enough money coming in from abroad, the Renaissance church had one major objective, which was to reconsolidate the papal states. During the papal absence from Rome, many of the cities in the papal states have come under the control of ambitious lords, the Bentivoglio in Bologna, the Malatesta in Rimini, the Este in Ferrara, the Montefeltro in Urbino and so forth. Moreover, the two grand families of Rome, the Orsini and the Colonna held large sways of the countryside, owned their own mercenary armies and had huge influence in the city of Rome.

That is why the cardinals elected the famous renaissance popes, Pius II, Sixtus IV, Innocent VIII, Alexander VI, Julius II, Leo X and Paul III whose skills lay more in the cut and thrust of Italian politics than in the spiritual guidance of their flock. If they had one redeeming feature, it was great taste in art.

In this game of recovery the popes used whichever alliance came in handy. The constant switching back and forth was made even more bewildering by the fact that popes and cardinals were often either members or allies of the leading families or states. There were Venetian cardinals and popes, the Medici brought in two popes in quick succession, the French had one of their allies in the form of Julius II and Alexander VI was born a subject to the king of Aragon.

Last but not least we have the republic of Florence. Though still formally a republic with a council and everything, the true power in the city lay with the Medici. They had established a complex web of patronage funded by the proceeds of the  banking business. Florence was motivated by business rather than territorial expansion per se. Nevertheless, they had acquired Pisa and kept Siena at arm’s length.

Despite all these brooding conflicts, Italy had experienced a long period of comparative peace.

In the wake of a particularly ferocious war between Milan and Venice, the big five states and several smaller ones came together in the Italian League of 1455. It confirmed the territorial status quo and included an obligation to come to each other’s defence should any of them get attacked.

This agreement was a masterstroke that reduced violence dramatically and allowed Italy to slowly recover from the Black Death, war and insurrections that had marred the previous hundred years. The Italian cities prospered and many of the wonders of Renaissance Art were created.

The Pazzi conspiracy of 1478 almost unravelled this peace when pope Sixtus IV encouraged a rival Florentine banking family to murder the Medici and take over the state of Florence. Naples was about to attack Florence in an alliance with the pope and a broad war might have ensued. It was Lorenzo the Magnificent, pitifully bad banker but gifted politician, who managed to calm things down, giving the league another lease of life.  

So far so excellent. All the Italians were holding hands and were happy making money, until…

Well, until the main architects of this peace agreement, Ferrante of Naples and Lorenzo the Magnificent were no more. Lorenzo the Magnificent in 1492 and Ferrante of Naples in February 1494.

The league had held for much longer than anyone could expect, but never resolved the underlying issues, the rivalry between Milan and Venice, the ambitions of the papacy and the inherent fragility of the regime in Naples.

At the same time the fabulous wealth of the Italian cities had always been a huge attraction for its neighbours. In the past these had been the emperors and princes from north of the Alps, but now it was the newly consolidated and well-armed kingdom of France that put its hat in the ring.

If you want to conquer a country, what you need is a pretext, at least that was still the custom in the late 15th century. And the pretext in 1494 was that the title of a king of Naples had gone to Charles VIII of France when Rene, the last of the old Anjou kings had died. The French argued that the current occupant, Ferrante’s son Alfonso, was an illegitimate ruler on two counts, one because his grandfather had expelled the Anjou in 1442 without legal justification and two, because his father was a bastard.

That was the argument, but what was the trigger. The trigger was Ludovico il Moro, the ruler of Milan. He was only in charge as the guardian of his nephew who was no longer that young. And the king of Naples had been trying to unseat Ludovico by supporting the claim of the nephew to not just the title but also actual rule of the duchy. In response Ludovico had been leaning on the king of France to go after Naples and thereby remove the threat to his rule. It would later be said that it was Ludovico il Moro who had called the French to Italy.

Ludovico Il Moro 

Then there was Florence, where the Medici family took the side of the Aragones king of Naples against Milan and France. Problem was that the family no longer had the money to buy their popularity and the population was leaning towards the French since much of Florence’ exports went to France. In 1494 the citizens of what was still nominally a republic made their views very clear and when Lorenzo’s son Piero refused to shift towards the French side, they unceremoniously threw him and all his supporters out. Into that power vacuum stepped a monk, Girolamo Savanarola, who whipped up the crowds with promises of doom and the end of days that turned Florence briefly into a religious fundamentalist dictatorship. Florence opened its gates to Charles VIII whose troops paraded in under their crusading banners.

Savanarola

At which point the only meaningful obstacle between France and Naples were the papal states. And the pope was still Alexander VI, father of Cesare and Lucrezia Borgia and renaissance villain pope par excellence. Alexander VI was initially opposed to let the French pass, but when they marched into Rome and promised him vast riches for his children, he changed his mind.

Bottom line, Charles VIII campaign to conquer Naples was as simple as cutting through butter. There was barely any resistance. King Alfonso of Naples fled and by the autumn of 1494 Charles VIII was sitting in the royal palace of Naples, his army mopping up the last few castles that had not yet surrendered.

This rapid success shocked not just the Italians, but everybody else. The first to get scared was Ludovico il Moro, the ruler of Milan, the man who had called on Charles to come to Italy. He got a visit from Louis of Orleans, the cousin of Charles VIII and his crown prince, who informed him that his grandmother was a Visconti and hence Milan should be his.

Venice too got itchy about the straits of Otranto and Charles’ idea to start a war against the Ottomans. The pope did not like the French that much after all, in particular he feared they would stop him getting his beloved Cesare his own principality inside the papal states.

But two even more consequential rulers were upset. First, our friend Maximilian, who – as we know – thinks that Italy is his, because he is the future emperor. But there are also some more rational issues in play. A permanent French presence in Italy would break the intended encirclement, and if they, god behold, were taking Milan, then they would be right on his doorstep in Tirol.

The other person really upset was of course, Ferdinand of Aragon, husband of Isabella and part of the power couple that had taken Granada and was now running all of Spain. They also had just dispatched a Genoese seafarer, a certain C. Columbus who had promised to find a new route to India and the spice islands by going west. O.K. he is of course never going to come back since every half decent navigator in the late 15th century knows, the distance across the globe on the western route to India is far, far too long for a Caravelle.

Columbus before Ferdinand and Isabella

Ferdinand, as king of Aragon was also the ruler of Sicily and the protector of his cousin, Alfonso of Naples. Neither was he keen on having the king of France across the straits of Messina, nor did he look kindly on the expropriation of his family.

Bottom line, something needed to be done.

All the parties involved, Milan, Venice, the Pope, the Spanish monarchs and Maximilian sent their negotiators to talks in Venice. On March 31st, 1495 they all signed an agreement that would become known as the Holy League. The parties agreed once again a peace for 25 years and a commitment to mutual defence of Italy where each party pledged a fixed contingent of soldiers and guns.

When Maximilian’s envoys signed on the dotted line they are unlikely to have known that they had signed the death warrant of the idea of the universal empire and that they have brought in a new political model for Europe, a model that lasted until the 20th century and that became known as the balance of powers.

The Holy League was not the first league ever established, nor was it the first treaty am emperor had signed. It was in fact in that same city, in Venice, that emperor Barbarossa had signed one of the most famous of medieval peace treaties, the treaty of Venice in 1177.

But this is the very first time that the emperor joined a league as an equal member. Despite the military and economic near irrelevance of the imperial title, there was still some of the reverence for the Caesars of antiquity left. When emperor Karl IV came to Paris to negotiate with King Charles V in 1377, the king recognised the seniority of the emperor, even though the power balance had long shifted in favour of the French.

But right on that day, the 31st of March 1495, this reverence fell away. From now on the empire is no longer the shadow of the ancient roman Empire, but the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation, an odd name for a state no different in standing to any other monarchy in Europe. Whatever Maximilian may believe to the contrary.

Military action began immediately. The Spanish crossed the straits of Messina and engaged the French forces in Naples. Venice took cities and harbours on the Adriatic coast of southern Italy. Venice and Milan gathered their forces to block Charles’ progress.

Suddenly holding Naples and finding new ingenious ways of bullying the Italians was no longer the question for Charles VIII, the question was, how am I going to get home? The king of France was trapped at the bottom of the boot of Italy. The Western mediterranean was teeming with enemy ships. The only route was on land. Charles VIII scrambled his forces and set off for home. He left behind just a small army, mainly Swiss mercenaries, which withdrew back home within a few months.

Charles VIII’ way up involved a lot less of parading with flying banners and grand receptions than his way down. Towns and castles that had welcomed him a year earlier now closed its gates. He faced an army made up of Milanese, Mantovan and Venetian troops when he crossed the Apennines. The battle at Fornovo in July 1495 was a draw in purely tactical terms, but in strategic terms a French victory, since Charles could continue on his way home. Ludovico il Moro changed sides once more and allowed the French to pass and by the end of August Charles was safely back home. His daring dash for Naples had been a complete failure. His conquests were lost as quickly as he had gained them and all of Italy had united against him. Charles VIII died in 1498 without making another attempt on the riches of Italy. But this is not going to be the last time the French would descend down the peninsula..

Ludovico Il Moro 

That is all well and good, but what about our man Maximilian. He was a member of the Holy League, he had promised to send an army. Where was he in all that.

Well, the reason he had not come down was once more the issue of money and soldiers. Maximilian’s pockets were empty as always. But this time, he was confident the Imperial princes would rally to his side and pay for the army he needed. After all, the campaign of Charles VIII was so obviously a foreign invasion of the empire, they could not stand aside.

On November 24, 1494 Maximilian had called an imperial diet in Worms to take place on the 2nd of February 1495. This was ample enough time for Maximilian to negotiate with the princes in advance so that the diet only had only to rubber stamp the raising of an imperial army. Note that the Holy League was only concluded on March 31st that’s two months later and Charles arrived in Fornovo in July. In other words, if all had gone to plan, Maximilian could have brought down an army well in time that, combined with Venetian and Milanese forces would have outnumbered the fleeing and demoralised French 2 to 1. The king of France, as the diplomat Philippe de Commines noted, would have never seen Paris again….and oh mei, would the Renaissance have taken a different turn.

But the diet of Worms did not develop necessarily to Maximilian’s advantage. He got stuck in negotiations with the princes for 14 weeks, leaving it far too late to raise an army and capture the French king. What exactly they debated so ferociously in Worms is what we will discuss next week. But for today, we will discuss the other event triggered by the Italian war of Charles VIII that shaped European history.

Whilst Maximilian was ranting and raging about Charles’ infringement of largely theoretical imperial rights in Italy, the major European monarch who was most affected by the invasion was Ferdinand of Aragon and by extension his wife Isabella and their children and heirs. The target of Charles’ ambitions, Naples, was part of the Aragonese empire. A French takeover of Naples, combined with a close alliance with Pisa and Genoa would have pushed the traders of Barcelona, Valencia, Palermo and Palma de Mallorca out of the lucrative trade across the western Mediterranean.

Hence Ferdinand was one of the people pushing hardest for the establishment of the Holy League. But he had no illusions about the longevity of such an arrangement. What he was looking for was a more permanent support in his conflict with France.

The pope, Alexander VI, aka Roderigo Borgia, had been born his subject and saw the Spanish as a great way to counterbalance the French. He had granted the title of most Catholic Monarchs to the rulers of Spain and appeared generally supportive. But how long would that last in the maelstrom of papal politics plus, the next pope may take a different stance..

As for the other Italian states, neither of them had much of a reputation for loyalty either. Ludovico il Moro had changed sides four times in 18 months, Florence had gone mental and Venice was a republic where a new doge or a change in the majority in the Great Council could make the Serenissima alter course.

Against all odds, in the eyes of Ferdinand, the constantly broke Maximilian was the only valuable and reliable ally in his struggle with France. Ferdinand and Maximilian were both weary of potential French hegemony over europe and they both tried to convert the Holy League from a defensive alliance into a tool to extinguish the Valois state.

The two sides, obviously also involving Ferdinand’s wife and co-ruler Isabella of Castile, had been negotiating closer alliances and marriages for years already. The initial idea was for Maximilian to marry a Spanish princess, but when Charles VIII rejected Maximilian’s daughter Margarete a new, even closer connection could be contemplated.

A double wedding between Margarete and Juan, the heir to the Spanish crown and between Philip the Handsome and their daughter Juana was Ferdinand’s proposal. Maximilian was actually quite hesitant about this idea. At this point, and as it ended up being the case, he only had two legitimate children, Philip and Margarete. There were no other Habsburgs left either. Hence if Philip were to die without offspring, the entire Habsburg-Burgundian inheritance would go to Spain. On the other hand, if Juan of Spain died without offspring, the kingdom would be contested. Juana had an older sister, Isabella, who had been promised to Portugal since she had been 10 years old and, after some complex back and forth, married king Manuel of Portugal. Manuel nicknamed “the Fortunate” was Portugal’s most fortunate king. During his rule the Portuguese sailors rounded the cape of Good hope and opened up a direct route to the spice markets of India and Indonesia and even further to China and Japan. Manuel was immensely wealthy, competent, close by and the husband of the older sister. No question, if Isabella’s son with Manuel had survived, the Spanish crown would have gone to him, not the handsome Burgundian duke.

Philip the Handsome and Juana

And there was also a younger sister, catherine, married to prince Arthur of England and upon the young man’s death, became the wife of, yes, our most gracious king Henry VIII. And again, England was closer to Spain than Austria.

In other words, it was a lopsided deal. From Maximilian’s perspective, there were other marriage options in the east, specifically with Wladislaw of Bohemia and Hungary that had much better odds.

But when Charles VIII entered Italy, the calculation shifted. Even though Maximilian would have liked to head east and gain eternal glory as the slayer of the Turks, he also really, really hated and feared the French. And if he wanted the French contained, the Spanish wedding was a way to tie the two powers, Habsburg and Spain closer together.

Hence Maximilian I most reluctantly consented to the second of the three marriages that catapulted Habsburg form a senior member of the Holy Roman Empire with a vastly inflated ego into a European hegemonial power. Imagine Maximilian had said no, and Ferdinand had married Juana to his second best option, the son of Henry VII. The cathedrals of England would still be pregnant with the smell of popery…

On this bombshell we will end. Next week we will dive deep into the Council of Worms in 1495 and the debate about imperial reform. I hope you will join us again.

And if you feel that what you heard has added to your store of snippets to liven up dinner party conversations, remember that this show is run on the goodwill of patrons who kindly support the show. And if you want to do that too, go to historyofthegermans.com/support where you will be overwhelmed with offers to earn the gratitude of your fellow listeners.

The Recovery of Tyrol and Austria

Ep. 221: Maximilian I (1493-1519) – Taking Back Austria and Tyrol History of the Germans

Transcript

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 221 – Taking Back Control

After 13 years of fighting in the Low Countries, Maximilian, the newly elected king of the Roman, returns home to a rammed full inbox. There is his cousin, the dissolute count Sigismund of Tyrol who is about to sell out the family fortune to the dukes of Bavaria. The king of Hungary is still occupying Vienna – and there is a new heiress out on the market, Anne of Brittanny.

Some of the issues he tackles together with his now seriously elderly father, the emperor Friedrich III, others are very much his own tasks. In the process Friedrich creates a structurally new political entity, the Swabian League, Maximilian builds a relationship with Jakob Fugger, the money man who will grease the cogs of the Habsburg empire, and once again they fight, one battle after another.

And despite tremendous success, this period from 1489 to 1493, ends with some epic humiliation, not in war, but in love. “No man on earth has ever been disgraced as I have been at the hands of the French” is how he summarised it.

Come along and watch as the plot thickens.

But before we start, let me just mention that once again one of us is taking part in University challenge, the UK version of Quiz Bowl. Being selected to represent your school in this tournament is the highest honor a true nerd can aspire to. So congratulations to fellow listener Kai Madgewick who skillfully captained the Manchester team into the quarter finals. If you want to watch them, you can do that on the BBC iPlayer.

And if you feel like supporting other great nerdy talents by ensuring the continued availability of the “gold standard in German history podcasts” as Google’s Gemini dubs his show, you can do that by signing up as a patron on historyofthegermans.com/support. And thanks a lot to Michael W (D), Sergio R-P, Carlo B., Paul V. and Fiona S. who have who have already done so.

And with that, back to the show…

Recap

Last week we brought the epic story of the war over the Burgundian succession to its end. 15 years of strife left the Low Countries a burnt husk of their former splendor. Maximilian may have won the war on points, but did not leave unscathed.

When he returned to the empire for good, in 1489, he had just turned 31. He had fought the French and unruly cities for most of his formative years and had concluded that his dynasty was in a war for its survival with the French crown and its allies. This was not a medieval war over honor, faith or territory, but a more modern phenomena where either side tried to wipe the other from the face of the earth. And he had learned that such a war could not be fought with a levy of sworn vassals, but required a modern army with disciplined infantry and artillery. At the time such armies were only available as mercenary forces offered and operated by war entrepreneurs whose only loyalty was to their purse. Money was at the heart of war now and money was also Maximilian’s Achilles heel.

At the time Maximilian got engaged to Marie of Burgundy, Dr. Georg Hessler the Austrian negotiator of the marriage contract, wrote back to Wiener Neustadt that the Low Countries alone could throw up 1.2 million gulden per year. After a decade and a half of war, that number had dropped to maybe 200,000, most of which went on debt repayments.

The duchies of Austria, Styria and Carinthia were almost entirely occupied by the Hungarian king Matthias Corvinus, hence there was no revenue to be collected there. The empire itself produced barely 20,000 gulden.

Compare that to Maximilian’s arch enemy, the King of France who collected 4 to 6 million gulden per year in taxes and other revenues.

The Tirolean Inheritance

That being said, the house of Habsburg was not entirely without resources. There was one member who literally sat on a silver mine, good old uncle Sigismund of Tirol.

He is a man who needs no introduction, having made his first appearance 27 episodes ago in #194 The Fuggers of Augsburg. This prince as morally bankrupt as he was intellectually impoverished limped along on well and truly his last leg. He was now sixty years old and had run out of possessions he could sell off or mortgage. For forty years he had focused on creating an equal number of illegitimate children, frantically building luxurious castles and pleasure palaces and fighting pointless wars. The last of these was a totally avoidable clash with the Republic of Venice, which comprehensively ruined him even though he had actually won.

To fund his debauched pastimes, he had relied heavily on his friend, duke Albrecht IV of Bayern-Munich. Albrecht had bribed senior members of Sigismund’s entourage and gained an almost complete hold over the increasingly doddery count of Tirol. If you remember episode 197, duke Albrecht’s grand plan was to reconsolidate the territory his ancestor the emperor Ludwig the Bavarian had brought together, and that included the Tirol. And being an excellent steward of his own lands, he had the coin to bankroll whatever madcap idea Sigismund came up with.

As security for these loans, Sigismund mortgaged his lands, first the county of Burgau, a number of courts and then for the risible sum of 50,000 gulden, the whole of Further Austria. When finally all the peripheral lands were pledged away, Albrecht offered the breathtaking sum of 1 million gulden for the whole of Sigismund’s lands, with a clause requiring Sigismund’s heirs to pay off the whole sum in one go before they could take posession.

What all that boiled down to was a full takeover of the Habsburg territory outside Austria itself. If Albrecht had been successful, the Wittelsbachs would have become as powerful, or even more powerful than the Habsburgs. The Tirol was not only immensely rich due to the often mentioned silver mines and the Brenner pass, but it was also strategically crucial. The Tyrol provided the essential land connection between Astria in the east and the ancestral lands on the upper Rhine and Burgundy. If the Wittelsbach could drive a wedge between the two Habsburg territories, the power balance would tilt permanently in their favor. Munich, not Vienna would have become the imperial capital.

This process of gradual encroachment into the Tyrol and further Austria had begun in the 1470s. Albrecht was a patient and prudent player of the game. But still he made a bad mistake. In 1486, around the same time the freshly crowned king of the Romans, Maximilian was showing off the magnificence of the Low Countries to his father, Albrecht bailed out the bankrupt free city of Regensburg and incorporated it into his duchy. He may have thought this was the least offensive thing he had done to the Habsburgs, but Regensburg would become the sweet mustard his enemies will drown him in.

Talking about offending the emperor, Albrecht really knocked it out of the park in 1487. As a frequent visitor to Sigismund’s court in Innsbruck, he was introduced to Maximilian’s sister Kunigunde. Somehow the Bavarian accountant Albrecht burned up in passion for the smart and independent Kunigunde. When he asked her father for her hand in marriage, the emperor Friedrich III had initially been positive. Kunigunde was the Apple of his eye, but on the other hand an alliance with this ambitious and well regarded prince may come in handy one day.

That changed when Friedrich heard about the incorporation of Regensburg into Bavaria. Friedrich had a thing about the rights of the emperor, and removing a free and imperial city from his control was not on. He sent a letter to cousin Sigismund telling him to cancel all negotiations with Albrecht. Albrecht was undeterred and bribed Sigismund’s chancellors to forge this letter into one where Friedrich was gracefully consenting to the marriage. Kunigunde, already smitten by the Bavarian’s charm, was delighted by her father’s consent, and on January 13, 1487 uttered an enthusiastic “yes” in the court chapel of Innsbruck.

Now that was the end of the line. Friedrich III issued an imperial order to unwind all the various transactions with the Wittelsbachs, return the lands to the family fortune and asked Sigismund to dismiss his corrupt councilors. The estates of Tyrol very much agreed with Friedrich III and called a meeting in Hall in August 1487. The hapless Sigismund was confronted with a hostile crowd that accused him of causing unnecessary strife with the emperor, disrespecting his wife and tyranny. He was graciously permitted to accept a sort of temporary retirement, where he handed over the management of his lands to the estates, who in turn would pay his debts and release his property from the Wittelsbachs. All Sigismund asked for was a generous endowment for his misbegetting of bastards. After that was granted, though never paid, Sigismund the desolate count of Tyrol shuffled off the political stage. He abdicated formally in 1490 and Tyrol passed on to Maximilian who made Innsbruck his capital.

Sigismund died a few years later. His last wish was to bathe his hands one last time in buckets of coins to remind him of his nickname, der Münzreiche, he who is rich in coin. But by then he was so poor, he had to borrow the buckets from a local money man.

But that was not the end of this. All these pledged territories had already been handed over to the Bavarians, as was the custom with such credit arrangements. The two Wittelsbach dukes, Albrecht of Bavaria-Munich and his cousin, Georg of Bavaria-Landshut had no intention to hand back all the territorial gains they had made over the previous decades, and hence give up their political ambitions, not even the city of Regensburg.

If the Bavarian dukes had to be forced, the natural tool in Friedrich’s hand would have been the imperial ban followed by a request to the imperial diet to fund the military force needed to execute the ban. But the imperial diet was not a real option at this point. The coronation of Maximilian had kicked off the process of imperial reform for good, and any support from the imperial princes would have required wide reaching concessions from the emperor, something Friedrich III was not prepared to consider.

If they could not pursue it as an imperial action, what about funding their own army using the tons and tons of silver that came out of the mines of Schwaz?

Well, that wasn’t so easy. The way the mining business worked in the 15th century was as follows: The princes owned the silver in the ground as part of the regalia. But they usually lacked the money and the expertise to dig it up. So they granted a license to entrepreneurs who would do all the hard work. Under the terms of the licence the entrepreneur would be required to sell the silver at say 5 gulden when the market value was 10 to 12 gulden. The prince could theoretically sell the silver at market, but they rarely did. They were often so far in debt, they needed money right away, so bankers, like the Fuggers or Gossembrot would offer the prince 8 gulden in advance. This delta, between 5 and 8 gulden, or effectively 25% of the total value of the silver came to the prince, the rest, 45% went to the mining entrepreneur and 30% to the banker.

Sigismund managed to get himself so deep into debt, he pledged the bankers not just the right to buy the silver at 8 gulden, but even the 3 gulden he would normally take home.

Friedrich III and Maximilian had two options. They could cancel Sigismund’s agreements with the bankers, default on the old man’s loans and take the silver and sell it on the open market. That should theoretically bring hundreds of thousands of guldens to the princely purse.

But here is the rub. Who would buy the silver ore? The only people who owned smelters to extract the silver from the ore, were other bankers who had close commercial links across the industry. And they knew that if they took the silver ore, it was only a question of time before the Habsburgs would come to them for a loan and then some other banker would play the same trick on them. So they would politely decline. You do not think that is how that works? Well, just read up about Dan Gertler and his dealings in the Congo, and please use a sensible publication, not the bots.

Plus there was a whole rats’ tale of logistical issues, such as where to find the transport for the ore when all the carts are owned by the bankers, who also maintained the roads etc., etc.,,, And you still need the mining entrepreneurs who themselves had borrowed from the bankers and could be cut off from credit.

The biggest banker to Sigismund in 1487 was none other than Jakob Fugger. His consortium had lent 150,000 gulden, secured on silver from Schwaz. When they saw Sigismund’s fate going down, they opened up lines of communication with Maximilian. Maximilian understood that he was in a bind and acknowledged the claims of the Augsburg bankers. But it would still be a while before they started lending at scale to the man who would become their most famous client.

In other words, Maximilian and Friedrich III may now have princely control over two of the richest lands in Europe, the Low Countries and the Tyrol, but they still had no money and a war to fight. How?

The solution to this problem materialised in the form of the Schwäbischer Bund, the Swabian League. We have encountered these leagues and associations already several times before. There was the Rhenish league that tried to clean up the robber barons on the Rhine, theLeague of Constance fighting Charles the Bold and the most famous and most enduring one, which was of course the Hanse. The Hanse by the way never called itself the Hanseatic League, because as you may remember, under the Golden Bull the free cities of the empire were prohibited from forming such leagues. Nevertheless they appeared regularly throughout the 14th, 15, and 16th century as pressure from the territorial princes mounted.

Apart from cities clubbing together to fend off rapacious territorial lords, there were also the associations of imperial knights and counts. These members of the lower and middling aristocracy had the same problem with overbearing dukes and electors, who were bringing more and more of their class under their direct vassalage. The most famous of these associations of knights was the society of the Shield of St. George that had been around on and off since 1406.

Both city leagues and knightly associations were usually temporary alliances with modest, if any organisational structure.

This new one, the Swabian League that Friedrich III created in 1488, was quite different. Firstly, it was an imperial top down initiative, not a bottom-up one led by knights or cities. Then it brought together two normally not very aligned groups, the cities and the knights. And, it had actual institutions, the league council and the foremen of the league. The council was the main decision making body and comprised 18 to 21 elected councillors. Day to day management of the league was in the hands of the foremen, the Bundeshauptleute – German words always twice as long and thrice as precise. And finally there was a court of the league to adjudicate disputes between league members.

Another major innovation was that the councillors took decisions by majority and they were binding on all members. If you remember, the Hansetag, itself a very important institution, did not have either majority voting nor was it binding on the member cities, unless the council had instructed its representative explicitly to commit them to a particular course of action.

In the Swabian League, if the councillors decided to go to war, the league went to war. Moreover, the league had gone with the times deployed trained mercenary armies, rather than a motley assortment of diverse contingents sent by individual members. The cost of the professional army was borne by members in proportion to their perceived military and economic strength.

A nod to the old world was that the institutions were split in two and later into three. There was a bench for the 20 Swabian cities, who would send one foreman and 9 councillors and a bench for the 450plus  knights, who would again send one foreman and 9 councillors.

And the league had associated members, namely the Counts of Wuerttemberg, the margrave of Baden, the archbishops of Mainz and Trier, the margraves of Ansbach and the count of Tyrol, who was technically still Sigismund, but in reality first the estates and then the Habsburgs. These associated princes were – at least initially – not full members and hence excluded from the decision making process. They were later integrated, but formed just one of the three branches, carrying the same weight as either the cities or the knights. 

Which begs the question, why would any of the participants be willing to hand over their freedoms to such a rigid institutional structure. This again was a sign of the changing times. As we pointed out in episode 197, the success of the Bavarian dukes, first Ludwig of Bavaria-Landshut and then Albrecht IV of Bavaria-Munich lay in their ability to provide the basic services of the state, peace and justice. Keeping the roads free of brigands, punishing wrongdoers and building the occasional bridge or road did wonders to the willingness of subjects to pay taxes. And that is what their neighbours in the old stem duchy of Swabia noticed and they wanted a piece of it. In fact Albrecht of Bavaria -Munich was the one who set up the first, much more loosely structured league that maintained peace and justice across most of what is now southern Germany.

But by 1488 that league had broken down, in part because of Albrecht’s cousin Georg’s rudeness, but also because the ambition of the Wittelsbachs to become the new dominant power in the empire had become apparent. When Albrecht took over Regensburg, all the free cities in the region and the counts and imperial knights knew that they had only two choices, club together and retain at least part of your autonomy, or be swallowed up by the House of Wittelsbach. That is why they came.

The Swabian League would last up until 1534 and it was a participant in much of what we will discuss in the upcoming episodes.

When the Swabian league was formed in January 1488, all its members were ready and rearing to have a go at the Wittelsbachs. But the war against Bavaria had to be postponed since – as we know – at that exact point in time Maximilian was made a prisoner by the mob in Bruges and Friedrich III had to go north the free his son.

But by 1489 the two monarchs of the empire were both in Tyrol and got to work. The Swabian league mustered an army to regain the lands that Sigismund had passed on to the Wittelsbachs. His cousin Georg caved almost immediately and handed over what he had gained and paid a fine of 36,000 gulden. Albrecht was more persistent. He refused to hand over Regensburg, even tried to hold on to Further Austria, plus he insisted that his wife Kunigunde, the sister of Maximilian, had a claim on Sigismund’s inheritance.

The league members were keen on a fight, the emperor was insisting on the return of Regensburg, two of Albrecht’s younger brothers rebelled, and even an association of Bavarian knights declared a feud against their duke. The only one who did not want all-out war against his brother-in-law was Maximilian.

Maximilian was more interested in a peaceful resolution so that he could go after king Matthias of Hungary who was still sitting pretty in Vienna. The Bavarian drole de guerre persisted until 1492 when Albrecht under pressure from all sides and in view of a League army of 20,000 finally caved. He kept his duchy, Regensburg remained a free imperial city until 1803, and the Wittelsbach’s grand ambitions were smashed.

And lady fortune smiled once again on Maximilian and Friedrich III. Matthias Corvinus, had died on April 6, 1490. And what was even better, he had died without leaving a legitimate male heir. He had an illegitimate son, John, who he had hoped he could get the emperor Friedrich III to legitimise. But that never happened. John never took the Hungarian throne.

Meaning that when Matthias Hunyadi unexpectedly disappeared, the kingdom of Hungary found itself without a king. And without a king, even the worlds most expensive army is vulnerable. Maximilian realised the opportunity, convinced the estates of Tyrol to fund an army of Landsknechte and by the autumn his forces stood before Vienna. Resistance was only sporadic and he took the capital, then rushed after the retreating Hungarians into Styria, entered Hungary December 1490. He besieged and plundered the coronation city that I am afraid I cannot pronounce and moved on to Buda. But that is where the momentum stalled. As always, the money had run out and he could no longer pay his men. The winter had turned out to be extremely hard, supplies could not come down the frozen Danube and the local population enraged by the plundering hordes of mercenaries had grown hostile.

Maximilian withdrew to Austria to a hero’s welcome. Meanwhile the Hungarian magnates had chosen a new king, Wladislaw Jagiello, the man who was already king of Bohemia and whose father, Kasimir IV was king of Poland and Grand Duke of Lithuania. Within a century the descendants of Jogaila, the pagan ruler of Lithuania we met in the season on the Teutonic knights, had become a dynasty that ruled a vast landmass from the Black Sea to the Baltic.  

Wladislaw, the new king of Hungary and Bohemia was however not the most impressive scion of the family. He was famous for saying well, well to anything his council of senior lords suggested and the Hungarian nobles joke that he was their king, but they were his lord and master.

Wladislaw, or more precisely the Hungarian lords were willing to make peace. Maximilian acknowledged Wladislaw as king of Hungary, but retained the right to call himself king of Hungary. They signed a treaty of friendship and for the nth time, a Habsburg signed a compact of mutual inheritance rights. Should one of them , aka Wladislaw or Maximilian die without male offspring, the other’s descendant would inherit everything. We are nearly there, only one more contract to go before the Habsburgs can take the Bohemian and Hungarian crowns for real.

To sum it up, that was some major achievement. Maximilian had regained and consolidated all the Habsburg possessions in one hand for the first time in centuries and he has added the Low Countries.

All that is true, but still, the winter of 1490 saw our hero seething with anger. Whilst he had been fighting out there in Hungary, the king of France had humiliated him in front of all of Europe. It is these pesky Frenchmen again. You can understand why he really did not like them.

When Maximilian left the Low Countries in 1489, the war against the cities and against France was not over by any measure. The fighting would go on for another three years. The reason we lost track of that is simply that Maximilian had passed on responsibility for that war to Albrecht of Saxony, an imperial prince and war entrepreneur.

The Low countries were however not the only theatre of this war. When he was mustering his army to go into Hungary, he had pondered an attack on the Franche Come and on Burgundy as an alternative. This was part of his grand plan. You see, Albrecht of Bavaria was not the only one with a grand plan, Maximilian had one too, just grander and more ambitious than his brother-in-law in Munich. But, as the great philosopher Mike Tyson so astutely observed, “everyone has a plan, until the get punched in the face”.

Maximilian’s grand plan was to completely encircle the French king and then gradually squeeze him into submission. To do that he had been building alliances for more than a decade now. He had established close links to the Spanish monarchs, Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile. His relationship with the Tudor king Henry VII of England was wobbly given his clear Yorkist sympathies, but for now the interest of the two kings were sufficiently aligned to work together. The third main player in this game was the duke of Brittanny. Britanny at this point was an independent duchy in the North Western corner of France, quite a lot larger than modern day region of Bretagne. Throughout the Hundred Year’s war, Brittany with its Atlantic ports in St. Malo, Brest, Lorient and Nantes had been an important bridgehead for the English and an on and off ally of Burgundy. Maxmilian had inherited this relationship and duke Francois II of Burgundy had been a major supporter in the war against Louis XI and Charles VIII.

In 1488, just when Maximilian was locked up in Bruges, duke Francois first lost a decisive battle against the French and then fell off a horse and died. He left behind a daughter, Anne of Britanny, 12 years old and now suddenly the most desirable heiress in Europe. 

And who was the man who desired her most, if not the master of dynastic marriages, the great heiress whisperer, Maximilian of Habsburg. He was not only after a chunky piece of real estate, he was after this specific piece of real estate, as it opened up the chance to fight France on three fronts.

Little Anne was quite excited about Maximilian’s interest, already seeing herself crowned empress by the pope in front of an admiring crowd in St. Peter. Had she listened to the History of the Germans Podcast, she might have thought about that differently.

Maximilian had one advantage over his many rivals, and specifically Charles VIII of France, he was free and single. Charles was – and I am sure you have forgotten about that, because so did I – but Charles was still, despite all the things that had happened in the meantime, engaged to Maximilian’s only daughter Margaret. Margaret had been dispatched, kidnapped, stolen, whatever you want to call it by the French after the peace of Arras in 1482. Margaret had come with an impressive dowry of cities and territories on the western edge of Burgundy. And she had grown up at the French court as the future queen and allegedly content to spend her life with the by no means attractive Charles VIII. Therefore the French party could not offer a crown to little Anne, only marriage to some cousin of the king.

Hence, when Maximilian sent his embassy to negotiate a potential betrothal, his men were well received. Discussions were as always protracted, but in the end little Anne and the imperial faction at her court made up their mind. She liked the crown, and they believed Maximilian’s promise that the army he was gathering with Tyrolian silver right now was going west to protect her and her lands against French incursions.

All was arranged, and Maximilian’s friend the handsome Polheim married little Anne by proxy. Once again a princess spent the night with a man who was not her husband with the lights on and a sword between them.

When Maximilian received the news that down in Brittany everything was ship shape and Bristol fashion, he concluded that he could now take his army to Vienna and leave little Anne for later.

But then, news travel in both directions. Little Anne, who happened to be very young, but not very thick, realised that she was not her suitor’s #1 priority. And Charles VIII realised that his #1 issue wasn’t the dowry of little Margaret, but the risk of an imperial Brittany armed to the teeth in his back.  

Charles mustered his forces and set out for Britanny. He knew that nobody would stop him. The Spaniards, Ferdinand and Isabella were busy conquering Grenada, the English did not trust Maximilian, and Maximilian’s army was fighting in Hungary a thousand miles away.

The French took one castle after another and by the autumn of 1491 they stood before Anne’s capital in Rennes.

Anne, abandoned by everybody and at risk of loosing her land, agreed to meet Charles VIII. The two of them had a long chat, at the end of which they agreed terms. A few days later they met again, this time in the chapel of the castle of Rennes where they announced their engagement. You can only imagine the expression on the face of the handsome Polheim, who had only weeks earlier had spent a night with the duchess and had been convinced that he had gotten his boss married. And that marriage should still be valid, since only a papal dispensation could dissolve such a union.

Dispensation or not, Anen of Britanny married king Charles VIII of France on December 6, 1491, her second king husband, but not her last.

Maximilian was apoplectic. He was humiliated, not only because Charles had married who he believed was already his wife, but also because the Frenchman had discarded his daughter Margaret, his fiancée for almost a decade. Maximilian’s hatred for the French deepened even further, if that was at all possible. He told everyone that “No man on earth has ever been disgraced as he had been at the hands of the French”. For the rest of his life he kept a little red book where he noted all the hideous crimes the Valois had committed against him.

Then Maximilian did what a mighty lord had to do in this situation. He once again declared war on France.  To do that, he once again needed an army. This time he tried to garner support by stirring up public opinion against the French. He had flyers printed shouting that the bride of the King of the Romans had been abducted – and that the honour of the empire was at stake. This attempt at propaganda did however not stick. When he asked the imperial princes for help, he received not just the usual, njet, but howls of laughter as they recounted the circumstances of his dishonour.

In the end he gathered mercenaries funded by loans backed by Tyrolian silver and at least conquered the Franche Comte. His forces did however not stretch to a conquest of the duchy of Burgundy, because once again, the money ran out. I guess you see the pattern now..

In 1493 the two sides finally came to agree a peace. Charles gave up the Franche Comte, returned Margaret and most of her dowry and recognised Philip the handsome as the heir of Burgundy. In return Maximilian acknowledged Charles and Anne’s marriage, even procured a papal dispensation.

The whole affair was so embarrassing that all documents relating to the marriage of Maximilian and Anne were destroyed. The only trace that prove it ever happened, was a receipt for 13 gold coins that the handsome Polheim had donated to the cathedral of Rennes on the occasion of the blessing of the union between Anne and Maximilian.

This war with France was finally over, the Habsburg lands were reunited in one hand. It is time for peace and reconstruction…maybe for others, not for Maximilian. For Maximilian war was not a way to reach a solution, war was the solution. So the next set of wars is just round the corner, but not now, next week.

And if you happen to have some silver that has gone up by a cool 150% in 2025, why not put some of it to good use – not hiring mercenaries – rather ensuring this show remains independent and advertising free. You know where to go and you know what to do…

32 destinations chosen entrely subjectively

Where To Go in Germany – Part 2 History of the Germans

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Transcript

Hello and welcome to the second part of your Christmas bonus, my entirely subjective list of places to visit in Germany. Today we will cover the remaining Bundesländer, namely Nordrhein-Westfalen, Rheinland-Pfalz, Saarland, Sachsen, Sachsen-Anhalt, Schleswig-Holstein, Thüringen and two more places that I have chosen entirely because I can.

One of the legacies of the Holy roman empire is that Germany does not have just one place where everything happens,  where politicians, entrepreneurs, bankers, artists, and actors travel on the same underground trains and eat at the same restaurants. Berlin is the capital with its political class of members of the Bundestag, journalists and lobbyist and at the same time a major gathering place for artists, musicians and thespians of all stripes and home to many tech startups. But the bankers are in Frankfurt, the headquarters of the major companies are in Stuttgart, Munich, Düsseldorf and spread around everywhere. Several of the major publishing houses are in Hamburg, the private TV stations in Munich, but none of these places have a monopoly on any of these activities. There are banks headquartered in Munich and major corporates in Frankfurt, there is great theater in Düsseldorf, Dresden and Schwerin, there are world leading companies headquartered in tiny towns like Künzelsau.

And that cuts through to the major cultural sites. Though the quip that there were 365 states in the Holy Roman empire is vastly exaggerated,  there were once a hundred capital cities, from splendid Dresden to tiny Hohenzollern-Hechingen, each with its princely residence, cathedral, grand monastery and theater. The great artists either travelled from court to court, leaving behind their works here or there, or stayed in one of the free imperial cities, operating large workshops.

Therefore what you cannot do in Germany is to go to one city and see all the major treasures the country has “collected” over the centuries, as you can do in the Louvre or the British Museum and the National Gallery. In Germany you have to move around, see one thing at the time, always in the knowledge that its significant counterpart is a few hundred miles north, south, east or west of you. This is one of the legacies of the medieval empire that Germany has in common with Italy.

And hence we are going through each of the Bundesländer trying to pick out one absolute must-see and one place where you are likely to encounter fewer people. And as we have covered 9 Bundesländer up to Mecklenburg-Vorpommern already, the next location we will have to get to is Nordrhein-Westfalen, Germany’s most populous state.

Nordrhein-Westfalen

If we talk about must sees, Aachen is where every upstanding listener of the History of the Germans will go, and it is undoubtably the right thing to do. The imperial chapel, with its Roman columns brought across from Rome and Ravenna and Barbarossa’s magnificent chandelier provided suitable surroundings for the coronations since Otto the Great. And if you happen to go there, take a look at the treasures in the Dommuseum, worth every second of it. And do not forget to listen to the ghoulish opening of Charlemagne’s grave by Otto III in episode 14  .

Bust of Charlemagne in the Aachen Dommuseum

Cologne

A close second place you should not miss is Cologne. The city has been mentioned 500 times already in the show and there are likely another 500 incidences to come. Germany’s most venerable and for a long time largest city has been the stage for events from the Prologue episode to the siege of Neuss we discussed in episode 214.  As the seat of one of the seven Prince electors, a major pilgrimage destination and the main hub in the trade between the empire and England, Cologne often played a decisive role. Its history is so varied and significant, it warrants its own podcast, the History of Cologne by Willem Fromm.

Of the things to see in Cologne, the Cathedral and its shrine of the Three Wise Men is unavoidable. I would also recommend the Römisch-Germanische Museum, that displays items related to the long history of Roman presence in Germany and specifically in Cologne.  And do not miss the remains of Cologne’s history as a free imperial merchant city and senior member of the Hansetag League. The Overstolzen House, a 13th-century Romanesque house, and the Town Hall, with its 16th-century porch, the Gürzenich, or Banquet Hall, of the merchants of the city (1441–47), and the 16th-century Arsenal are all reconstructed on the outside, though the interior has sadly been lost to war damage.

These alone would justify a visit, but what makes it a must see are the 12 great Romanesque churches including Sankt Gereon, Sankt Severin, Sankt Ursula, Sankt Maria im Kapitol, Sankt Kunibert, Sankt Pantaleon, Sankt Aposteln, and Gross Sankt Martin. Few places in Europe can boast such a density of sacral architecture erected between the 4th and the 13th century.  

LEAD Technologies Inc. V1.01

Once you have done this marathon, head down to Früh’s, Sünner im Walfisch or Sion for a refreshing Kölsch and the unique atmosphere of a classic beer house. If you do that, you have to take the S-Bahn down to Cologne’s eternal rival, Düsseldorf and taste their Altbier in one of their traditional beer houses like the Füchschen, Schiffchen or Uerige.

Essen – Zeche Zollverein

18 million people spread over 34,000 km2 making Nordrhein-Westfalen one of Europe’s most densely populated areas, in particular the almost continuous urban landscape between Düsseldorf and Dortmund, otherwise known as the Ruhr.

View of Essen

I would love to say that the Ruhr is pretty, but that would be pushing it. There are pretty places though, like the Bredeny lake and its park with the villa of the Krupp family or the Schwebebahn in Wuppertal. Several of these cities are very old; Essen abbey boasts an Ottonian Westwerk and 10th century artworks and Dortmund had been a member of the Hanse and still retains some vestiges of that time, whilst Mercator established a cartography business in Duisburg.

If people travel here from afar, it is usually related to football, or soccer for our American friends, given the region hosts some of the most successful and most storied clubs.

But there is another way to get an understanding what made this state where almost one fifth of Germans live. And that is a visit to Zeche Zollverein, a coal mining industrial complex that counts amongst the largest of its kind in europe. It operated from 1847 to 1986 and has now been turned into a museum, or to be more precise, one of the many buildings on the site is now the Ruhr Museum providing an insight int how this region turned into one of the largest industrial agglomerations in the world.

Shaft 12 of Zeche Zollverein

But what impressed me more than the exhibits is the sheer scale and awesome beauty the structure. It comprises two large complexes, the mine with its Shaft 12, built in the Bauhaus style that is the basis of the claim that this is the most beautiful coal mine in the world. And then there is the nearby coking plant, a 600m long behemoth.  The canal that ran alongside once held water used to cool down the coke. Today it is used In winter as one of the coolest ice rings I can imagine.

Zeche Zollverein has a museum but is not a museum, it is a vibrant centre with 150 start-ups and corporations using the space, a range of cultural institutions, a branch of the university and shops. Since opening in the 1990s, Zeche Zollverein has become a weekend destinations for people from all around, including my cousin who took me there and left me speechless.

That is unfortunately all we can cover in Nordrhein-Westfalen, leaving such gems as Paderborn (see episode 19) and Münster for later exploration.

Rheinland-Pfalz

It is time to head down to Rheinland-Pfalz, the state created in 1946 from chunks of Prussia’s Rhine province, Rheinhessen and the Bavarian Palatinate. This is the land of the archbishops of Mainz and Trier, the Counts Palatine on the Rhine, the counts of Nassau and most significantly the various barons on their castles overlooking the Rhine river.

Which gets me to the must-see in Rheinland-Pfalz, and that is the Rhine valley, namely the bit between Mainz and Bonn. I know, it is on everybody’s bucket list for a visit to Germany, but so is Heidelberg and we covered that as well.

Marksburg with Rhine Valley

What is most fascinating is the gap between its preception and what it actually signifies in German history. Turner and Byron had made the rhine valley into one of the main destinations on the grand Tour and many a mylord travelled along citing  these stanzas from Childe Harold’s pilgrimage:

childe harold audio – Google Search 2:11:20

   The castled crag of Drachenfels

   Frowns o’er the wide and winding Rhine.

   Whose breast of waters broadly swells

   Between the banks which bear the vine,

   And hills all rich with blossomed trees,

   And fields which promise corn and wine,

   And scattered cities crowning these,

   Whose far white walls along them shine,

   Have strewed a scene, which I should see

   With double joy wert THOU with me!

The river nobly foams and flows,

   The charm of this enchanted ground,

   And all its thousand turns disclose

   Some fresher beauty varying round;

   The haughtiest breast its wish might bound

   Through life to dwell delighted here;

   Nor could on earth a spot be found

   To Nature and to me so dear,

   Could thy dear eyes in following mine

   Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine!

And as the boat floated between the Lorely and Katzenellenbogen the representatives of Thomas Cook sold the tourists steel engravings of Burg Katz, the Mäuseturm in Bingen or Stolzenfels castle which they would hang on their walls to dream of grim robber barons, helpless prelates and damsels in distress. All these images and dreams of the Romantic Rhine ended up in the rubbish bin when Germans and Brits faced each other across their trenches in World War I.

Bingen

But that romantic yearning for crumbling castles, picturesque towns and to quote Byron again: peasant girls, with deep blue eyes,  And hands which offer early flowers” was not an exclusively British obsession.

The Germans were at it too, Goethe, Hölderlin and Kleist started the literary tradition that peaked with Heinrich Heine and Clemens von Brentano, Schumann and Liszt composed piano pieces, symphonies and Lieder, Wagner’s ring of the Nibelungen takes place on the Rhine, before we get into the less salubrious world of the “Wacht am Rhein” and Carl Zuckmaier’s famous Wine, Women and Song. During the 19th century rich industrialists and the Orussian royal family turned the castle ruins into what a fairytale gothic castle was supposed to look like.

Burg Stolzenfels

The whole place is so drenched in narratives, myths and anecdotes, it is a dreamworld made into reality. A dreamworld that obfuscates its real significance. The Rhine had been the backbone of the European economy for centuries, the main transmission line that connected the Low Countries and Italy. Its castles were toll stations funding princely ambitions, may they have been territorial, political or religious all through German history. Its cities were centres of trade and innovation, its villages made the world’s favourite white wine etc., etc.

And it is gorgeous!. Take a trip down the river either on the train that follows the banks of the river, or on a ship or boat….

Trier

Going from one of the absolute top destinations in Germany we now go to one that is quite incomprehensibly overlooked, and that is Trier. Trier may not formally be Germany’s oldest city, but it is certainly the one that holds more ancient Roman buildings than any other in Germany, and could easily compete with better known places in France or Spain.

Aula Palatina Trier

Augusta Treverorum became one of the four capitals of the Roman empire in 293 AD and grew to between 75,000 and 100,000 inhabitants. It retains its famous city gate, the Porta Nigra from this period, the Aula Palatina, the basilica that once served as the throne room of emperor Constantine was preserved as a church, making it the largest extant hall from classical antiquity, it’s cathedral goes back to a church commissioned again by the emperor Constantine, and retains much of the old structure, with later additions in the 10th, 11th and 12th century. Trier obviously comes with the usual complement of amphitheatre, ruins of the impressive Roman bath, and a still fully functioning 2nd century bridge. The Rheinische Landesmuseum holds more exhibits from Roman times, including the famous Wine ship of Neumagen that explains a lot about trade on the Moselle and Rhine and Roman navigation and the largest treasure of Roman gold coins ever found.

Codex Egberti – The Healing of LAzarus

And if you have time, drop into the city library that holds the Codex Egberti, one of the great Ottonian illuminated manuscripts, a reminder that Trier was not just important in roman times but had been a crucial archbishopric throughout the Middle Ages and into the early modern period. Who could forget Baldwin of Luxemburg, brother of emperor Henry VII and eminence grise of the empire for most of the 14th century.

Coronation of Henry VII – in the codex of balduin of Luxemburg

That is of course only a small selections of the delights of Rheinland-Pfalz. You will almost certainly want to go to Speyer as well and marvel at its great cathedral we described already in episode 25 or spend some time in Mainz, home to the most senior of Prince Electors as well as of Johannes Gutenberg (episodes 186 to 188), or follow the river to Worms, original home of the Salian emperors and site of the Nibelungenlied.

Saarland

Fortunately our next destination is not far. The smallest of the territorial German states, the Saarland is where we go next. And I have to make a grave admission, I have never done more than drive through. I will of course remedy that, but what it means is that for now I cannot offer any personal recommendations.

Amongst the things I found that could entice me to go to the Saarland is first up the Saarschleife, a gigantic bend in the River Saar caused by the stream hitting a hard Quarzite rock. It looks cool.

Saarschleife

The other location would be the Volklinger Eisenwerke, the only fully intact steel works from the 19th and 20th century. There are visiting tours and a museum explaining how this enormous facility operated, as well as special exhibitions. So if you decide to skip the Zeche Zollverein in Essen, and you want to better understand Germany’s industrial past, this might be a suitable replacement.

Gebläsehalle der Völklinger Hütte

Sachsen

Our next Bundesland is almost due east from here – it is Saxony in all its splendour. And when we talk about Saxony as in the kingdom and now Bundesland of Saxony, as opposed to the stem duchy of Saxony,  we are talking about a state created by and for the House of Wettin. For much of the 17th and 18th century this principality outshone Prussia, its neighbour to the north. Augustus the Strong and then his son Augustus III were both electors of Saxony and kings of Poland. They maintained two capitals, Dresden and Warsaw where they made a credible attempt at competing with the Versailles of Louis XIV. This expenditure relegated the dynasty back to the second league, but left behind some of the grandest and most impressive baroque architecture on German soil.

Dresden by Canaellto

In other words, Dresden is a must-see. Several of the structures that had been heavily damaged, even wiped out by the Bombing of Dresden in February 1945 but much has now been reconstructed. In particular the Frauenkirche has become a symbol of reconciliation and rebirth. The whole process had already started under the GDR government with the reconstruction of the Semperoper  in the 1980s and continued with the almost complete rebuild of for example the Taschenberg Palais and the Residenzschloss. I worked in Dresden in 1991 and I had the chance to visit the building site of the Residenzschloss. Seeing the concrete walls of what is today the audience chamber of Augustus the Strong was one of the weirder experiences I ever had in sightseeing.

Großer Schlosshof mit Fresken (2021)

But whilst much of the city centre had suffered horribly, there are several absolute gems of the heyday of baroque Dresden that have survived largely unaltered. There is the Alte Gemäldegalerie that houses the collection of Italian renaissance art put together by the otherwise hapless Augustus III, and the Grüne Gewölbe, the treasury of the House of Wettin that had been made accessible as a museum in 1729 as a means to project its immense wealth.

Gruenes Gewoelbe

Going a bit further afield, you may want to see Meissen where the principality started and its castle where  Johann Friedrich Böttger established the famous Meissener Porzellanmanufactur, the first place where porcelain was produced in Europe. Porcelain was an obsession amongst aristocrats in the 17th and 18th century, but had gone into total overdrive amongst the German princes. Everyone had a porcelain collection, usually housed in small “Chinese” room full of mirrors and golden wall shelfs. In Dresden you had an entire palace to house the collection, the Japanese Palace in the Neustadt.

Dresden Zwinger

Today the collection is shown in the Zwinger, once part of the city’s defences but repurposed by Augustus the Strong as, a party palace, orangery, garden, just something very unique and strangely wonderful. A Japanese palace was of course not enough exoticism for the spendthrift Saxon rulers, so they had a Chinese palace too, in Pillnitz, just a few miles upriver.  Pillnitz is of course not just one small Chinese villa, but three separate buildings, one on the water, one on the hill and one in the middle. And there is Moritzburg, the fairytale castle in a lake full of hunting trophies..and, and, and.

Schloss Pillnitz

I am going to shut up now. And if you go to Dresden, just spare a few days for Leipzig too. Where Dresden was where the money was spent, Leipzig is where it was made. And today Leipzig is arguably the more vibrant of the two cities.

Bad Muskau

When it comes to overspending, the two Augustuses are hard to beat, but it can be done. The man who achieved that sheer impossible feat was Hermann, Fürst von Pückler-Muskau. He is today mostly remembered for Fürst Pückler ice cream, a mix of chocolate, vanilla and strawberry flavours he did not even invent himself but was just named in his honour by the Prussian court cook.

Hermann, Fürst von Pückler-Muskau

He was a famous dandy who kept a team of white stags to pull his carriage down Unter den Linden, but his true achievement was as a gardener. His two parks, one in Bad Muskau in Saxony and the other in Branitz in Brandenburg are absolute high points in European garden architecture. Laid out in an English style the park stretches 5.6 km2 across what is now the German-Polish border. As you would expect, this is an artificial landscape of lakes and hills dotted with various follies and pavilions.

In the Muskau Park

The sheer scale of the project pushed the man who was born as one of the richest nobleman in Germany deep into debt. In a desperate attempt to raise funds he and his wife divorced so that he could go to England and marry a wealthy heiress. That scheme turned out to be a touch too obvious and the British press made a mockery of the German prince’s attempts to woo an English rose. Pückler described events in hilarious letters to his now divorced but still much loved wife. She then published these letters to rustle up cash, which turned into a best seller. Like modern a day sailing youtuber, Pückler embarked on a new career as a travel writer. He journeyed across the Ottoman empire, even made it to Ethiopia and Sudan. One of the souvenirs he brought back from his trips was an11-year old Ethiopian enslaved girl that he installed in Bad Muskau where she promptly succumbed to the inclement climate, and probably just utter misery.

Money eventually ran out completely and Pückler had to sell his castle and gardens in Bad Muskau in 1845 and moved to Branitz where he could not stop himself and got gardening again. He died in 1871. Like his lifestyle, his religious convictions were at odds with the conservative world of 19th century Germany. Since cremation was not yet permitted, he went around the problem by having his heart dissolved in sulphuric acid, and ordered that his body should be embedded in caustic soda, caustic potash, and caustic lime. These granular remains were then buried underneath a pyramid in his garden.

His life cries out for its own episode.

Sachsen-Anhalt

Moving swiftly, or in fact not so very swiftly on, we come to Sachsen-Anhalt. This is the land of Otto the Great who is buried in Magdeburg cathedral and his father, Heinrich the Fowler whose grave is somewhere underneath the abbey church of Quedlinburg. Even Barbarossa squeezed himself in on the Kyffhauser, which is shared between Sachsen-Anhalt and Thüringen.

Naumburg

And the must-see place here is also linked to these early medieval days, it is the Cathedral of Naumburg, and more specifically the Stifterfiguren, the sculptures of the founders of the church. These include the legendarily alluring Uta von Ballingstedt, but also the other 11, each carved by an absolute master of the craft in the 13th century. If you are following me on social media you can find a post going through every single one of the 12 figures and their histories.

Naumburg an der Saale, Dom, Stifter Markgraf Ekkehard II. und Uta

The second destination in this state is Dessau. This is another of these tiny capitals, in this case the seat of the dukes of Sachsen-Anhalt-Dessau. Not much of the old city of Dessau is left, apart from a ducal palace. But halfway between Dessau and Wittenberg, famous for Luther’s theses, is the garden landscape of Dessau-Wörlitz, a set of interwoven palaces and parks that cover an impressive 142 km2

The reconstructed Bauhaus-Building

But that is not the only reason why I would suggest to go there, the real attraction is the Bauaus. You can visit the original building where the Bauhaus school moved to after it had been more or less expelled from Weimar in the 1920s. It is a fascinating structure that, like much of the other ideas of the Bauhaus had enormous influence on the way the world looks everywhere from Texas to Tokyo. The Bauhaus museum is by the way not in the actual Bauhaus buildings, but in the centre of Dessau.

Schleswig-Holstein

Time to take our last trip up north and have a look at Schleswig Holstein. As a sailor, this is my place, along with Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. It is just stunningly beautiful if you have a soft spot for hard winds and sandy beaches.

Lubeck Skyline

Culturally the must see place is of course Lübeck, the queen of the Hanse. We did a whole series on the Hanse and the role of Lübeck within it, we talked about the art and culture that in the main centred here – episode 127, so I am not sure what I can add in this episode. Maybe take a marzipan safari. Whilst Niederegger has become the leading brand for German Marzipan, there are four more manufacturers in Lübeck and true aficionados prefer either Mest or Martens or Carstens or Lubeca over the better known fare. Lots to discover…

As for the second location in Schleswig Holstein, there are of course the islands, namely Sylt which provide a uniquely German summer holiday experience and of course any kind of water sports in the Förde on the Baltic shore, including but not limited to sailing.

But I would like to break a lance for the city of Schleswig, the seat of the dukes of Holstein-Gottorp who occasionally ruled Denmark, Sweden and Russia, though not all at the same time. There is an impressive palace here with gardens and the like.

Gottorp palace

Beyond that there are three unique and compelling things here. The first are the remains of Hedeby or Haithabu, a Viking settlement that dominated the trade in the Baltic between the 8th and 11th century. You can see reconstructed Viking houses and a Viking museum explaining the significance of the place in international trade.

Danevirke

In the 7th century the Danes built a line of fortifications from Haithabu on the Baltic to the North Sea shore which remained the main Danish line of defence against invasions until the Schleswig-Holstein war of 1864. The great wall of China, begun around the same time, is admittedly more impressive, but lost its military function in the 17th century.

And then you have the cathedral of Schleswig, itself a lovely gothic church with an impressive carved main altar. The funky bit is in the cloister. Like so many churches and monasteries, Schleswig too was given a massive makeover in the 19th century. The creative renovation work here included the discovery and enhancement of a frieze underneath the massacre of the innocents. The frieze depicted various animals, including some quickly identified as turkeys.

Schleswig Turkey

This caused some confusion given the original decoration dated back to 1320. The only viable explanation was that the Vikings must have been to America before and had brought the motif of the turkey back from their journeys. That rapidly turned int0 a whole narrative of brave Nordic sailors spreading out to the American continent long before any Spaniard had ever held a compass. Under the Nazis the story that men from Schleswig had discovered America became canon. It wasn’t until 1948 that Kurt Wehlte used x-ray to prove that the turkeys were indeed a turkey placed there by the 19th century “restorers”.  

Thüringen

Congratulations, we have made it to the last Bundesland in alphabetical order, but by no means the least.

If you look on a map of the Holy roman empire from say after the peace of Westphalia, you see several large entities, Austrian and Spanish Habsburg, Bavaria, Brandenburg-Prussia, Saxony, Wurttemberg, Hessen, Brunswick etc. And then in between all these tiny places. And Thuringia is one of the regions where the chart says things like “various Saxon duchies” or “unmappable microterritories”.

Weimar

And here in Thuringia is the probably most famous of these duodez principalities, Sachsen-Weimar. This tiny principality whose political position was so insignificant, they did not have to contribute their own soldiers to the imperial Reichsmatrikel but simply paid an equivalent tax, managed to attract Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Friedrich Schiller, Martin Wielandt and Gottfried Herder to its court. And they came there and lived there during the absolute height of their fame. There is no real equivalent, unless you were to say that Charles Dickens, George Elliot, Thomas Hardy and Jane Austen had decided to live together in the grounds of Belvoir Castle. Very pretty, but a bit off the beaten track.

Der Weimarer Musenhof (1860); Schiller liest in Tiefurt

Weimar retains much that reminds one of these days when the country’s greatest writer was also the prime minister of the tiny state and walked across the park to have tea with the duchess and her court of local baronesses.

Goethe’s Garden House

Weimar is of course also the place where the national assembly hunkered down to write the constitution of the republic in 1919, since Berlin was simply too dangerous.

Wartburg

Thuringia has many more of these smallish state capitals, including Gotha, home of Prince Albert and Meiningen, capital of the Duchy of Sachsen-Meiningen until 1918, complete with theatre and one of the oldest orchestras in the world. And of course Erfurt, beautifully restored to its late medieval glory. I could go on.

But the other place I would suggest you see in Thüringen would probably be on most people’s must see list anyway.  But again, I actually do make the rules, so I can break them if I want to.

Perched high above the town of Eisenach, Wartburg castle offers sweeping views over forested hills that immediately justify the journey. This is where Martin Luther found refuge and translated the New Testament into German—an act that shaped the language and transformed European religious life. Walking through his modest room gives you an intimate connection to ideas that changed the world.

Wartburg Castles

Beyond the Reformation, Wartburg is also a cradle of German identity. Medieval legends of competition between singers, the courtly life that disgusted Saint Elisabeth of Thuringia, and 19th-century nationalism all converge within its walls. The architecture itself is striking, blending Romanesque foundations with later restorations that reflect changing artistic ideals.

Equally compelling is the setting. Wartburg sits amid hiking trails and quiet woodland, allowing you to combine cultural discovery with nature. It is everything with everything on it.

Odd Ones Out

And that is where I could, or maybe should end it. But no. I promised you two more places that are purely subjectively my favourites amongst the must-sees and the not so well known.

Bamberg

And top of the pops, the place to be that others also go, at least for me is Bamberg. If you go and see one piece of art in Germany, make it the Bamberger Reiter. Yes, I know that the Nazi used him as an archetype of the Nordic race and national ideal. Which makes it even more ironic that he may or may not depict a Hungarian and was likely made by a French artist.

Bamberg Rider

Put all this away in a box and just look at it. The serenity of the figure, the elegance of the shapes, the mystery of its meaning and the unusual position of an equestrian statue inside a church, all makes this wonderfully bewildering and captivating.

And the Dom is full of other wonders, the marble sarcophagus of pope Clement II that appears more Roman than medieval, the stunning carvings of Tilman Riemenschneider on the grave of Henry II and Cunigunde and the modest box that holds the remains of Konrad III stuffed into a corner of the crypt by his ungrateful nephew Frederick Barbarossa. And more 13th century sculptures that take your breath away.

Henry II and Kunigunde

The city below too is stunning, one of the few that survived intact, including a town hall on a bridge across the river. There is an episcopal palace by Balthasar Neumann, not as breathtaking as the one in Würzburg, but still impressive. And in the Bamberg Museum you can see what may be the absolute pinnacle of Ottonian illuminated manuscripts, the Bamberg apocalypse.

Bamberg Apocalypse

And since you are in the area, nip across to Bayreuth, not necessarily for Richard Wagner, but to see the theatre, built for the wedding of a daughter of the Margrave in 1750 and still standing, almost unchanged in all its epic gold and red splendour. A unique survivor.

Weikersheim

And now for the very, very last place, Weikersheim. If we talk about tiny states with artistic and architectural ambitions far beyond its resources, Weikersheim takes the biscuit.

Schloss Weikersheim

The state its capital had once been, Hohenlohe-Weikersheim ended to far beyond the border of the princely park. But still, they built themselves a palace in the finest 16th century style. Its great knight’s hall sports a 40 metre long ceiling, decorated with hunting scenes by Balthasar Katzenberger, whose skill lay more in colouring in, than actual painting . On the walls count Wolfgang II ordered his hunting trophies to be displayed as part of plaster reliefs of the actual animals they belonged to. Once seen, you will never forget the  Weikersheim elephant.

Weikersheimer elephant

In the 18th century another count of Weikersheim remodelled the castle again. This time it was brought up to the latest fashions of aristocratic living, complete with a defile of rooms for him and her and a mirror cabinet to show off their collection of Chinese porcelains.

What makes a visit so spectacular is that literally nothing had been changed inside and  out since the line of Hohenlohe Weikersheim died out in 1760. The house became a secondary residence for another branch of the family and remained that until the family had to sell it to the state of Baden-Württemberg in 1967.  

One consequence of 200 years as a secondary residence was, that the place was never heated in winter. The furniture and artworks have become so used to the seasonal changes in temperature and relative humidity that heating the castle would now result in the destruction of the decorations. So when you visit in winter, you very much keep your coat on.

For me Weikersheim epitomises so much about Germany. The fragmentation into so many smaller entities has led on the one hand to political insignificance followed by overcompensation in the 19th and 20th century, but at the same time has massively enriched the country. A place the size of Weikersheim in France or Britain would not harbour quirky works of art and a history all of its own.

I hope me droning on about places, gardens, cathedrals and coal mines has given you an idea of how diverse Germany is and maybe you found something you feel you want to visit…and in case you cannot join me on this year’s History of the Germans Tour and glide down the Main and Rhine Rivers this summer, there may be another tour in 2027.

Thanks for listening and usual service will resume on January 8th when we find out how Maximilian of Habsburg fares as King of the Romans.

32 destinations chosen entrely subjectively

Where To Go in Germany – Part 1 History of the Germans

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Transcript

A very, very merry Christmas to you all.

As you are still awaiting your presents, mine has already arrived, which is the chance to make this show. Despite all my occasional moaning and groaning about how much work it is, I have never enjoyed anything as much this. Who could have imagined that digging through often dusty books and articles and trying to put together an interesting and compelling narrative together for a discerning audience was that much fun. And the reason I can do all this is you, the listeners and patrons of the History of the Germans Podcast. So thank you, thank you and thank you.

Now let’s get to your Christmas present. I had promised you 5 to 10 places I particularly love and that are not on the standard itinerary for a trip to Germany. But when I shortlisted the places I particularly like, I noticed a bit of a pattern. They were all within a limited range, basically near places I had lived or that have some link to my family. That is human, but not exactly helpful. Because if you want to go to Germany and for some inexplicable reason choose not to spend all your time in either Hamburg or the sunniest, most beautiful and culinarily attractive area that is Baden, then this episode would be profoundly useless to you.

I clearly needed some discipline. The plan is now to go through each Bundesland and point out two places, one that is a genuine must-see, and the other a place fewer people go and that is still interesting in its own right. That makes it 32 locations plus 2 bonus ones where I will fully indulge myself by dragging you into deepest Tauberfranken. And I know that still leaves room for enormous bias, in particular when it comes to the larger or richer Lands. But note, this is my Podcast and a choose when I want to.

Still it is a lot. And I can imagine that you may want to play sections on one or two places you really like to your friends of family as a way to convince them of the wisdom of going to Germany. So to make it easier to find, I will set up chapters for each Bundesland. If you listen on a podcast app like Spotify, you can go to the episode details, find the chapters and navigate to the bit you want to listen to. Alternatively, you can go to the episode webpage on my website at historyofthegermans.com, where you find the transcript again with headlines for each Bundesland. The order of progress is alphabetically, again hoping this helps you find things.

Baden Württemberg – Heidelberg and Freiburg

And so, without any further ado, let’s begin with the alphabetically and in any other aspect first Bundesland on the list, Baden Württemberg.

Heidelberg

And the must see place there, no ifs, no buts, is Heidelberg. As I had mentioned before, it is here where I went to school, went through the trials and tribulations of adolescence and am therefore completely unable to be objective. But then, this is objectively one of the 10 most beautiful cities in Germany, its settings, architecture, history is just stunning.

Sure, it is an absolute tourism hotspot. But most of them are day trippers who leave for Frankfurt airport before nightfall. In the evenings this is still a city for the locals and students and you can get a decent meal and lovely glass of the excellent Palatinate wine even on the central square and the street that leads down to the Alte Brücke. We did talk about Heidelberg, its castle and university in episode 189 and 190 already, so check those out before you go.

If you happen to stay a bit longer in the city, you may want to go up the Heiligenberg the hill opposite the town. You can follow the Philosophenweg, a 2km walk that provides stunning views of the city and holds reminders of the 19th century philosophers and writers who had made Heidelberg famous.

Blick vom Schlangenweg auf Altstadt und Schloss, Bild Juni 2023

If you climb further up, you come past the monasteries that once owned the surrounding lands before the counts Palatine arrived and built their capital here, and finally you get to see the Thingstaette. Opened by Joseph Goebbels in 1935 as the home to the Reichsfestsiele, the Nazi equivalent to the Salzburger Festspiele. It is an open air stage, allegedly inspired by Greek and Roman theatres. But that is where the comparison ends. The acoustics were terrible and complex amplification systems had to be installed so that the actors could be understood. The plays and events staged there were meant to induct the people into the National Socialist faith. It is much smaller than the Reichsparteitagsgelande in Nurnberg, but it still conveys some of that mishmash of Greco-Roman, medieval and Nordic elements that were used and abused to foster the Nazi ideology. Post war the place fell into disrepair and staged some of the coolest raves in the eighties and nineties…home to a very different German spirit.

Thingstaette Heidelberg

And since we are here, you could also take a short train ride to Schwetzingen. The palace there was one of the houses the counts palatine moved to once the Schloss in Heidelberg had been destroyed in the War of the Palatine Succession. Its park, rather than the palace itself is the main attraction, featuring the classic far reaching baroque axes you would expect but also a more natural garden in the English style with dozens of follies, including bathhouses, temples, pavilions and of course the famous Schwetzinger Mosque.

Aerial image of the Mosque in the Schwetzingen Palace gardens (view from the southeast)

It is here, that in 1668 the Count Palatine Carl Ludwig ordered his gardeners to plant white asparagus for the princely table. This king of vegetables was a delicacy only available to the very rich who could afford the complex process of growing the plants under mounts of sand.  It became more widely available when Max Basserman, a local entrepreneur established large scale agricultural production and found a way to keep them fresh in tins. White Asparagus is a German obsession, with various locations claiming to produce the highest quality, though of course Schwetzinger has to be the best. As I said, this is an entirely biased and subjective episode. So if you have never tried it and you are coming between Mid April and St. Johannis or June 24th, give it a go. Not everyone gets why it is so special, but once you have fallen for it, you will wait every year for Spargelzeit.

White asparagus

As for my second recommendation in Baden-Württemberg, I was torn simply because there is so much. We talked about Stuttgart and Tübingen in episode 190 and 192, Karlsruhe in 191, Ravensburg in episode 193  and of course Constance and its council in episodes 171 to 174. It then boiled down to the monastery in Maulbronn, one of the best preserved Cistercian abbeys in Europe and the city of Freiburg. And as this is an entirely subjective show, Freiburg it is.

Freiburg im breisgau

The city founded by the dukes of Zähringen in the 12th century (see episode 15) became the administrative center of the Habsburg ancestral lands, known as Further Austria. It has its university, which as you may have heard me mention, I attended, and which is still going strong.

Freiburg does not impress with oversized castles or dramatic location. Its charms are on a more human scale. Its main square, the Münsterplatz is pure delight. In its center rises its gothic Cathedral, that had been built as a parish church and hence has just one, not two towers. Nor is it the tallest steeple, but, according to Jacob Burckhart, the most beautiful spire in all of Christendom. It is so compelling that when the church of St. Lamberti in Munster, one of the city’s most venerable and largest, needed a new church tower, they built an almost 1:1 replica of the Freiburg Minster. It is also one of the few major gothic church towers in Germany that were completed during the Middle Ages.  Cologne, Ulm and Regensburg all sport 19th century spires.

The interior is of course impressive with its high Altar by Hans Baldung Grien and the gothic sculptures inside and out. But is again the human scale of everything that makes Freiburg so lovely. Sitting outside in one of the wine bars on the Münsterplatz, preferable the stalwart, Oberkirch and drinking a glass of the truly excellent Baden wine is hard to beat. We would go there as students, nursing a tiny glass and hoping one of these old duffer would turn out to be an alumni of the university who would happily foot the bill for the evening in exchange for reminiscing of his or her student days. And today, when I go, I am that old duffer and I pay for drinks and tell stories that only I find really interesting. It’s the circle of Life…

And do noy forget, you are in the epicenter of German fine dining. Baden cuisine can easily hold its own against the Alsatians on the opposite shore of the Rhine. The climate that provides more days of sunshine than anywhere else in Germany provides the produce needed to satisfy a demanding clientele. The city itself boosts 5 Michelin star restaurants and the surrounding area another 20 or so. If you go north from there to the small town of Baiersbronn, which can claim to be amongst the places in the world with the highest density of Michelin stars per head in the world, including  two three star restaurants. I personally do not care that much about going to 3 star restaurants. But I do believe their presence elevates standards across a whole region. And that results in restaurants that receive what I believe to be the much more desirable Michelin award, the Bip Gourmand. That is given to restaurants that offer excellent quality food at reasonable prices, which is right up my street. If I could pass on one tip that makes life better, it is to download the Michelin guide app and seek out restaurants with the Bip Gourmand. It has never failed me and brought me to truly exceptional places. I am not paid to advertise this, this is simply a tip  from me to you. And – you may have guessed – Freiburg and the Black Forest is chocker block full of Bip Gourmand restaurants.

Bayern – München and Regensburg

Enough about what Americans would call “my home state” and go across to Bavaria. You may know by now that my relationship with Bavaria is, to say it politely, ambivalent. But that may be nothing but envy of this blessed land.  Or, to be more historically accurate, Bavaria is at least two lands, Bavaria and Franconia, and arguably the Upper Palatinate and Upper Swabia are also under Bavarian occupation.

Munich

When it comes to the absolute must sees in Bavaria – Bavaria, the answer has to be, as much as it pains me – Munich. If like me your spiritual homeland in Hamburg, then Munich is just wrong in any conceivable way. The ostentation, the language, the fashion, the undisguised arrogance… up here in Hamburg we look down on people in a much more sophisticated manner.

That being said, Munich is stunningly beautiful. My favourite thing is to go for a run early in the morning through the Englischer Garten and finish off under the arcades of the Hofgarten giggling at the pomp and pathos with which the 19th century frescoes depicted the high points in the history of the House of Wittelsbach. The rest of the Residenz, one of Europe’s largest palace complex is definitely well worth visiting, in particular the treasury.

And once you are worn out of courtyards, state rooms, corridors and theaters, take a quick look around the corner at the Old Court, where my favorite Wittelsbach, Ludwig the Bavarian lived. Whilst he was really powerful, interesting and consequential, his palace is positively minuscule compared to those of his lesser descendants. Just saying…

The oldest residence of Wittelbacher to Munich city area (about mid 13 century). The tower visible in the picture and bay windows are late Gothic and date from around 1460th The Alter Hof is the protected cultural heritage of the Hague Convention.

I would not dare making a list of places to go in Munich, simply this is ultimately down to your interests and style, all possible variations thereof can be catered for. The Old Pinakothek hosts the art collection of the Bavarian rulers, who had been buying, inheriting and stealing stuff for centuries, the Lenbachhaus is home to masterpieces by the German expressionists and the Deutsches Museum is where you can hear all about Fortschritt durch Technik.

There is one art museum I would add to the list that few people go to, and that is the Villa Stuck. Franz von Stuck, whose house and atelier the villa was, was Germany’s most celebrated artist in the late 19th century. His art oscillated between Jugendstil, the German version of Art Nouveau and symbolism. These striking pictures often diving into mild eroticism and dark myths has gone quite comprehensively out of fashion. But that may not last forever. Fashion changes, even when it comes to older art. I can remember a world where hardly anyone had heard about Caravaggio. And these late 19th century artists, the Pre-Raphaelites, the Nazarener and Symbolists might be on the way up. So grab the chance to be able to say that you had been to Villa Stuck long before everybody else went.

Franz von Stuck: The Actress Tilla Durieux (1880-1971) as Circe. Ca. 1913. Oil on wood, 60 x 68 cm. Inv. 11370. Photo: Jörg P. Anders.

Ok where to go after Munich. Of course none of you would dare – or dare to admit –to visit that abomination in the foothills of the alps, that cardboard grandeur built by a pseudo absolutist who sold his country to fund his architectural fever dreams. There are 20,000 castles in Germany and you go for that one? Cinderella’s castle in Disneyworld is more authentic.

Ok, if it isn’t Neuschwanstein, then where. We have already covered a number of must-sees in Bavaria in separate episodes, Nürnberg in episode 153, Rothenburg ob der Tauber in episode 193Augsburg in Episode 194 and Landshut in episode 197.

Regensburg

Let me break a lance for Regensburg. When I said Heidelberg is one of and not the most beautiful city in Germany, the place I thought about was Regensburg. Like Heidelberg, it old town suffered only little damage in World War II, which is a rarity. What you will find very often in Germany is that the area around the great cathedral or town hall is made up of late 20th century structures, not all of which have aged well. The reason for that is not that Germans were keen to tear down the old and build the new in its stead, but that almost all cities had been bombed to the ground. Not the worst impact fascism had, but probably its most constant reminder.  

In Regensburg you can see what a grand late medieval city looked like. Its stone bridge, built in the middle of the 12th century had seen first Konrad III and then Barbarossa setting out for their respective crusades. Its cathedral is another masterpiece of Gothic art. And from 1594 onwards the estates of the Holy Roman Empire gathered here in the town hall of Regensburg, from 1663 in a permanent session.

Illustration from 19th century.

This is where imperial laws were passed and conflicts between the different sates resolved, probably more effectively than they are given credit for. And there is the palace of the Thurn and Taxis family, the imperial postmasters, who gave their name to my favorite means of transport.

But the reason Regensburg is special is not the individual attractions, but the coherence of the whole city. There are so many corners that have literally remained unchanged for 500 years allowing you to fully immerse yourself in the world of the medieval free cities. And if you take into account how much bigger and richer Nürnberg or Augsburg were at the time, you can get an idea of the scale and beauty of these late medieval trading hubs.

Another interesting aspect of Regensburg is that the city, despite remaining the seat of a catholic bishop and home to three imperial abbeys, was a major center of the protestant faith offering sanctuary from religious prosecution and spearheading missionary activities. The two communities lived side by side for centuries which  led to a duplication of institutions like schools, churches, hospitals and the like. There were several free imperial cities that operated on that basis, a sign that religious tolerance isn’t solely an invention of the 18th century and thrived even in Bavaria.

Since we go about these things in alphabetical order, our next stop is as far as you can get from Bavaria, not geographically, but culturally, and that is of course Berlin, the home of people Bavarians call ”Saupreiß”.

berlin

What is there to see in Berlin? Pointing things out in the capital is a real problem for me, or more precisely two interrelated problems.

The first issue is that my favorite places in Berlin have closed. one permanently, the other temporarily. The Pergamon Museum where you can go through the market gate of the roman city of Millet and then the Ishtar gate of Babylon before hitting the Altar of the Hellenistic city of Pergamon, well that museum is closed at least until 2027 and only scheduled to fully reopen in 2030.

My other favorite was the Tacheles, an artist community that squatted in a former department store and proudly displayed a Mig 21 Russian fighter jet in the courtyard and other not quite health and safety compliant works. That lasted for a surprisingly long time, but closed in 2012 and has now been turned into luxury apartments, one of which recently sold for a cool 10 million Euros. Another sign that the times when artists and tech firms came to Berlin for its cheap rents and amazing spaces are over.

But even without the Pergamon and the Tacheles, there is no shortage of world class art in Berlin. From Nefertiti to Bruce Naumann, everybody is in Berlin. Check out not just the Museums but also the private galleries that make Berlin the capital of contemporary art in Europe.

The other problem I have with Berlin is that things move so fast. In most German cities not just the main historic sites, but even the restaurants and bars barely change. The top nightclub in Munich is still the same it was in the 1980s. In Berlin though, things move far to fast for me to keep up.  

But I have a solution to this problem. Its name is Jonny Whitlam. He is a tour guide in Berlin and a fellow podcaster and on whose show, History Flakes, I have appeared before. Jonny really knows his stuff and is great fun to have around. I put a link to his website in the show notes.

Brandenburg

Surrounding Berlin is Brandenburg, and again the must see place here is without a doubt Potsdam, the true capital of Prussia. Yes Berlin was the official capital, but Potsdam is where Frederick II spent his evenings chatting with Voltaire and the intellectuals of the Berlin Academy and his mornings in very different exchanges with his strapping guardsmen.

Adolph Menzel – Flötenkonzert Friedrichs des Großen in Sanssouci

As you travel from Berlin to Potsdam you cross the Glieniker Bruecke, the place where the US and Soviets exchanged their spies. There you enter a landscape of interconnected lakes and royal and imperial palaces from the forbidding Neues Schloss built solely to prove that Prussia was not bankrupt after the 7-years war,  Sansouci, Friedrich II’s pleasure palace, Babelsberg a 19th century beauty and Cecilienhof, where  the Potsdam conference consigned Prussia to the scrap heap of history.

Having seen this, the most appropriate thing to do then would be to seek the very beginnings of the state of Brandenburg-Prussia. So head for the Spreewald, famous for its intricate network of natural canals, lush forests, and wetlands, often called Germany’s “bayou”. It is also home to the Sorbs, one  of the few remaining communities of Slavic peoples who once occupied the entirety of the lands between the Elbe and the Polish border. You can visit the Slavic castle of Raddusch, a replica of the circular fortresses that Albrecht the Bear found so hard to overcome, he had to resort to murder and complex back room dealing to get in, as we have learned in episode 106.

Slawenburg Raddusch

The other things you should do in the Spreewald is go on a boat trip through the canals, buy some of the exceptional pickled cucumbers, as regularly featured on my favourite Instagram account, DDR Mondbasis.

Bremen

Still stuck with the letter B, we are moving on to the smallest of the Bundesländer, Bremen. Small, but perfectly formed. The Rathausplatz with the ginormous statue of Roland, the Dom, the town hall and the Schütting is one of the greatest ensembles of Hanseatic architecture.

Do not be fooled by the peace and serenity of the location. Bremen’s history is a ruthless and bloody one, as we have seen in episode 126.

And underneath the Rathaus, in the Ratskeller you find one of the oldest wine cellars in Germany, which you would not expect so far north. All that goes back to a privilege from 1330, that reserved the right to sell wine for the city council. Like all monopolies, it did not initially strive for quality, so for centuries the citizens of Bremen could only choose between two kinds of wines, the common and the better. That may explain why Bremen turned into the home of world famous breweries like Becks and the main Coffee traders in the country. Still, things improved over time and now you will be offered the choice of 650 different German wines in the Ratskeller and you can gaze at the oldest still unopened wine barrel in the country, containing some I am sure delicious 1653 Rüdesheimer Riesling.

Bremen is, as I mentioned small and perfectly formed, which means everything is close by. So do not miss the Boettcherstrasse, just around the corner from the Rathaus. Built between 1922 and 1931 on the initiative of Ludwig Roselius, a coffee trader, it is a rare example of architectural expressionism, a structure that tries to replicate the ideas and aesthetics of the Blaue Reiter in a three dimensional medium.

The state of Bremen is actually two cities, Bremen and Bremerhaven. Now I cannot honestly recommend a visit to Bremerhaven, unless you want to see the place where some of your ancestors embarked on their journeys to New York, Rio de Janeiro or Buenos Aires.

Bremerhaven: Museum of Emigration

What makes Bremen really special – at least for me – are the people. They have that Hanseatic openness with a brilliant dry sense of humor and charm.

Hamburg

As much as I love Bremen, if I ever were to move back to Germany, I would move to Hamburg, no two ways about it. Germany’s second city fits me like a glove. It has the space and the sky, the doorways are made for people of stature, they drive nice but not ostentatious cars, their sensibly sized houses are decorated in the best possible, not the latest fashion and they sport that healthy glow that comes from summer holidays spent on bracing walks on the north sea beaches.

Hamburg Rathaus and city

The downside of all that style and restraint is that Hamburg cannot offer much in terms of splendid palaces, massive art collections or cathedrals with Puttos dripping from the ceiling. Tourists come and walk through the Speicherstadt, the world’s largest warehouse district, built along canals, entirely from brick between 1883 and 1927. At its end you find the Hafen City, one of Europe’s largest urban regeneration projects that culminates in the Elbphilharmony, a truly spectacular concert hall overlooking one of the five largest harbors in the world.

Wasserschloss in der Speicherstadt; aufgenommen von der Poggenmühlenbrücke; links: Holländischbrookfleetbrücke, rechts: Wandrahmsfleetbrücke

Much of the old city that once must have looked like Lübeck or Bremen vanished in a massive city fire in 1842 and then in the Hamburg Firestorm in July 1943. But what you see today has been built in the 19th century and then again in the late 20th, all – as one would imagine – in discreet elegance.

Hamburg Mellin Passage

The best way to enjoy the true beauty of the place is by taking an Alsterdampfer, a passenger boat that takes you round the two lakes in the center of the city. You get to see canals and bridges, of which Hamburg claims to have more than Venice, the graceful white washed villas where perfect children playing on the grass that leads down to the water’s edge. Get off at Alte Rabenstrasse and grab a seat at Bodo’s Bootssteg, a waterside bar, order an Alsterwasser, beer with lemonade, stare into the sun and feel happiness.

Hamburg: Bodo’s Bootsteg

Hessen – Kassel and Marburg

This is where I would love to end on, but the tyranny of the alphabet pushes us on. We have barely covered 6 of the 16 Bundesländer and the next one is Hessen.

If you come by plane, you will most likely arrive in Frankfurt, making this city an inevitability. But not a bad one at all. Frankfurt was one of the three “capitals” in inverted commas of the Holy Roman Empire. The Golden Bull determined that all emperors had to be elected in Frankfurt, a process that took place in a side chapel in the church of St. Bartholomew nowadays called the Kaiserdom. This goes back even further to the Franks of Merovingian and Carolingian times who elected their kings on the hallowed ground of their homeland, Franconia. The election was followed by a celebratory dinner in the Kaisersaal of the Römer, the houses that form the medieval town hall, whilst the people were given the greatest of delicacies, the sausage that became known as the Frankfurter.

Frankfurt Römer (city hall)

And in 1848 Frankfurt witnessed the very first freely elected German parliament holding its constituent session in the Paulskirche. This first stab at democracy did not succeed, but at least we tried.

The opening of the Frankfurt Parliament in Frankfurt’s Paulskirche in 1848. Coloured, contemporary engraving. View at the President’s table, over which the portrait Germania by Philipp Veit emerges.

There are some great museums in Frankfurt, but if you want to go a bit further afield, I recommend two cities, Marburg and Kassel.

Kassel – Wilhelmshohe

Let’s start with Kassel, once capital of the landgraves of Hessen-Kassel. Whilst their old palace had disappeared in 1811, the grandest of the monuments of these otherwise monumentally awful rulers draws all the views, the Bergpark Wilhelmshoehe. 2.5 square kilometers of baroque and English garden design on a hillside that is overlooked by a 40 metre tall pyramid on its summit, which in turn is crowned with an 8.5m tall golden statue of Hercules. Beneath it runs a water feature that comprises a Baroque water theatre, grottos, fountains, two hydraulic organs, and several waterfalls. Water tumbles down the 350m long great cascade into the of course great pond, from where the once tallest fountain in the world sprays water 50 metres into the sky. That is what selling your soldiers to the highest bidder gets you.

The best time to visit Kassel is during the Documenta, an art exhibition that takes place every 5 years, always creates all sorts of controversies with resignations and accusations as only the art world can produce. Visitors and artists give this otherwise rather sedate town a particular buzz, a counterpoint to the overwhelming impression the Bergpark gives you.

Documenta 14 in 2017

MArburg

At the other end of the spectrum is Marburg, like Kassel once a capital of the Landgraviate of Hessen. Some cities have a university, Marburg is a university. During term time ancient medieval streets have a much more youthful flair than the surroundings would suggest.

And it was also once the home of Saint Elisabeth of Hungary, wife of Landgrave Ludwig of Thuringia. Those of you who support the show can listen to a whole episode about Elisabeth of Thuringia, whose life story of persistent abuse by her confessor is amongst the saddest stories about medieval piety I can think of. The Teutonic knights built a magnificent church over her grave, the Elisbethenkirche, and in 1236 once the apse was constructed her body was translated there. Emperor Friedrich II served as one of her pallbearers, a sign of the recognition she enjoyed a mere 5 years after her death.

We covered her daughter’s fight for her son’s inheritance and the creation of the state of Hessen in episode 186. Another descendant of Saint Eisabeth, landgrave Philipp, in the spirit of the reformation had her remains dug up and sold them off to catholic princes.

Niedersachsen – Hildesheim and Rammelsberg/Goslar

The next Bundesland on the list is Niedersachsen, Lower Saxony, or as we would call it, Saxony. Now in most cases the capital of the state is often a must see destination or at least in the top 10. Niedersachsen is the exception. Hannover, apart from a claim to speak the cleanest form of Hochdeutsch is sadly not very exciting.

Hannover – New Town Hall

Hildesheim

What is exciting, at least for history geeks like us is Hildesheim, the see of my favourite ballsy bishop, Bernward of Hildesheim.  He was the tutor and later advisor of Otto III and rescued his lord when he rushed into an angry mob of Romans, brandishing the Holy Lance.

But beyond personal bravery he was also an enormously cultured man. From high nobility he advanced quickly through the ranks of the church but his true passion was mathematics, painting, architecture and the manufacturing of liturgical objects in silver and gold. And once placed on the bishops’ throne he embarked on a massive building program.

He left behind two masterpieces of Ottonian architecture, the cathedral of St. Mary and the church of St. Michael. St. Mary holds the greatest treasures, namely the St. Bernward doors, coast in Bronze around 1015 and completely unique in scale and quality of decoration.

St. Bernward Doors

And the column of St. Michael, where Bernward had Trajan’s column replicated in Bronze only that instead of Imperial armies, loot and prisoners of war, it depicts scenes of the old testament.

The Bernward Column in St. Michael’s (before 1810). 

St Michael’s cannot offer the same level of treasures, despite featuring a rare ceiling made from 1300 pieces of wood and again extremely rare. But since St, Mary was rebuilt after Bernward’s death, St, Michael is clearer expression of the bishop’s architectural ideas. As the Unesco World Heritage convention acknowledged, quote: St. Michael’s is one of the rare major constructions in Europe around the turn of the millennium which still conveys a unified impression of artistry, without having undergone any substantial mutilations or critical transformations in basic and detailed structures. The harmony of the interior structure of St Michael’s and its solid exterior is an exceptional achievement in architecture of the period. Of basilical layout with opposed apses, the church is characterised by its symmetrical design: the east and west choirs are each preceded by a transept which protrudes substantially from the side aisles; elegant circular turrets on the axis of the gable of both transept arms contrast with the silhouettes of the massive lantern towers located at the crossing. In the nave, the presence of square impost pillars alternating in an original rhythm with columns having cubic capitals creates a type of elevation which proved very successful in Ottonian and Romanesque art.” End quote

St. Michael’s Church

Rammelsberg/Goslar

So where did all the money come from that allowed bishop Bernward to create his grand churches. For that we may want to go to Rammelsberg in the Harz Mountains where you can visit the silver mine that once provided the material wealth that propelled Otto the Great and his successors to the top of the political pyramid in western europe. The miners and engineers that worked there in the 10th century passed their knowledge on to their sons who spread out across europe, bringing crucial skills to Saxony, Tyrol, Bohemia, Hungary, Sweden and, and, and; laying the foundation for the metal bashing industry that still forms the bedrock of the country’s economy.

Mine of rammelsberg

And whilst there, you go to the other side of town and visit the Kaiserpfalz in Goslar, home of Emperor Henry III and his intended permanent capital.

Mecklenburg-Vorpommern – Schwerin and Mecklenburgische Seenplatte

And now we get to the 9th Bundesland in the alphabet and last one for today, Mecklenburg Vorpommern. And here the capital is a must see, Schwerin.

Like Hamburg, there is a lake in the centre of town, but that is where the comparisons end. On an island sits a castle like no other. When the dukes of Mecklenburg commissioned a complete remodelling of their main residence in the middle of the 19th century, they pulled out all the stops. This is often called the Neuschwanstein of the North, but that can only be an insult. Neuschwanstein was a stage designs inspired by the operas of Richard Wagner, Schwerin was built on the walls of an actual castle that dates back to the 10th century and by some of the greatest historicist architects, Gottfried Semper, best known for the Semperoper in Dresden. The family that once reigned there is no less unusual.

As you enter, you pass underneath a giant statue of Niklot, the pagan Slavic leader of the Obodrites and opponent of Henry the Lion. We covered his life and story in episode 104 and the broader conflict between the Saxons and the Obodrites in episode 101. Niklot’s descendants once converted to Christianity, became the dukes of Mecklenburg who played a major role in Northern European history. And this was their home. Sure the 19th century embellished things and the decorations are ludicrously over the top, but that is also its charm.

Wismar, Stralsund und rügen

What else is in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern? There are the Hanseatic cities of Wismar, Stralsund and Rostock that had made their regular appearances in the episodes about the Hanse and are well worth visiting for their brick gothic architecture. Wismar is the best preserved, whilst Stralsund gives you access to Rugen and its fantastic sandy beaches. By the way, Anglo-Saxons have a false impression of the Baltic, expecting its water to be very cold, they even use the term Baltic to denote freezing. Nothing could be further from the truth. Given the see is shallow and does not pull in much icy Atlantic water, it warms up quickly in summer, making Rügen, Hiddensee, Usedom, Heiligendamm and so forth ideal places for summer holidays by the seaside, in particular when you have small children to cater for.

Rugen – Sellin Pier

And if you want a truly perfect holiday, charter a sailboat or bring your own. I did that two years ago and cannot wait to get back.

Mecklenburger Seenplatte

But there is one trip I have not done and that is still on my list, and that is sailing through the Mecklenburger Seenplatte, the system of interconnecting lakes between Berlin and the Baltic shore. There are allegedly over 1000 lakes and inland waters here, some quite busy, but also still many that are quieter. You can charter a sailboat or a motorboat from one of the dozens of charter companies and set off. The boats are tiny and not at all luxurious, but you can anchor in a secluded bay, go for a swim and sleep on deck looking at the stars. That would be my kind of thing.

Müritz See

So, we worked through 9 out of 16 Bundesländer, which means we are not yet finished. But I am. So, if you have been listening in bed whilst the kids are rustling about the living room in search of presents, get up and smell the Turkey.

As for me, I have already got my presents since we Germans do it on the evening of the 24th. All I have to do today is get up, pack the kids in the back of the car and drive to my lovely in-laws for Goose and even more presents. Though as I said, the greatest of them all has already arrived.

So, thank you all so much for listening and supporting the show. And have a very merry Christmas. I will be back with the second instalment next week.

Why there are no more City States

Ep.219: Maximilian I (1493-1519) – The Fall of Ghent History of the Germans

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Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 219 – The Fall of Ghent, or why there no city states no more.

The words High and Late Middle Ages conjures up images of fog rising up over a field where knights in shining armor are trading blows with double handed swords, mighty bishops overseeing the construction of monumental cathedrals and peasants toiling on the land as serfs.

The reason we see it that way goes back to the chivalric literature that celebrated the aristocratic lifestyle where tournaments and poetry mattered more than the humdrum world of business.

But let’s just take a look back at the High Middle Ages, the time of Richard the Lionheart, Saint Louis and Frederick Barbarossa. Who controlled access to the great endeavor of the time, the conquest of the Holy Land? Who re-opened up the connections to the wider world, from Novgorod to India and China? Who were the most ferocious fighters who neither expected nor granted any quarter? Who had all the money?

These were the great cities of Italy, of Flanders, of Picardie and Provence and of the Holy Roman Empire. Verona under the Della Scala in the 14th century generated tax revenues twice as high as those of England, Venice capacity was sixty percent of what France could generate. And these cities fielded armies that, as we know, defeated the Holy Roman Emperors, even the most capable ones like Barbarossa and Frederick II time and time again. Their absolute dedication to fight to the end was evidenced by their extremely heavy and slow war carts, the Carroccios and by the bravery of the Flemish Militia at the Battle of the Golden Spurs. And the first European since Roman times to make to India and China wasn’t a Knight errant, but a Venetian merchant, nor were the vast lands on the Eastern side of the continent linked up by military force. The crusades, the grand project of the age was as much a venetian mercantile adventure as a religious pilgrimage, culminating in the sack of Constantinople in 1204.

I could go on, but the bottom line is that the medieval city states played a much larger military and economic role in the 1200, 1300 and 1400 than the 19th century novels of Sir Walter Scott and the plays of Friedrich de la Motte Fouquet had made us believe.

At their height there were 65 free and imperial cities, maybe the same number of Italian city states, and probably several hundreds of cities that enjoyed significant autonomy from their sovereign. Today, the UN recognises only two city states, Singapore and Monaco, as well as the Vatican City as an observer, so, amongst us girls, there is only one real city state left.

What happened? Where did all these city states go? And why?

That is what we are going to discuss today, when we look at the showdown between Maximilian of Habsburg, widower of the last duchess of Burgundy and father of Philip, the universally recognised heir of the Low Countries and the Flemish cities, and specifically its largest, the city of Ghent.

But before we start a quick correction. Last week I mistakenly said that Margaret of York was the mother of Marie of Burgundy. That is of course incorrect. Her mother was Isabella of Bourbon, the first wife of Charles the Bold.

And as punishment for my mistakes, I cannot allow myself to wax lyrically about the benefits of supporting the show on historyofthegermans.com/support, but am limited to expressing our gratitude for keeping the show advertising free to Andy K., Patrick R., Sprocket Tinkerwind, Mani R., Vasilisa, Ethan B., Casper H, and John S.

And with that, back to the show…

Last week, we left Maximilian pushed out of the guardianship and regency of the Low Countries. And worse, he saw his 2-year old daughter taken away to France to be brought up as a future French queen and his 4-year old son and heir Philip put under the tutelage of the Estates General. According to the chronicler Olivier de la Marche, Maximilian complained his life had turned into that of saint Eustace, whose son was taken by a wolf and his daughter by a lion.

Contemporaries as well as historians have regularly pointed out how vastly different the old emperor Friedrich III and his son were. Where Maximilian thrived in tournaments and war, Friedrich was always cautious and hardly ever appeared in person on the battlefield or in Tournament, Friedrich III was always secretive and closed, whilst Maximilian was open and engaged with anyone from barbers to barons, Friedrich’s court was a dour affair, in part as a function of the shortage of money, whilst Maximilian fully embraced the splendor of the Burgundian court and its never-ending sequence of tourneys, dances, musical recitals, solemn masses and grand entrees in stunning cities, the elaborate hunts in the rich forests etc., etc.

But they are still father and son. Both of them were interested in the latest developments in technology, in mining, minting, manufacture of guns and armor etc. They were curious about what they called the dark arts, from alchemy to necromancy, and had a habit of collecting precious stones. And when it came to personality, they both held the unshakeable belief in the destiny of the House of Austria and from that derived a persistence, even stubbornness that kept them going even when anyone else would have concluded that the chips are down and it was time to go home.

And it was this infinite resource and tenacity, that kept Maximilian from giving up after he had been forced to sign the treaty of Arras in spring 1483. This tenacity may be somewhat admirable from the distance of 500 plus years, but if you had been living in the Low Countries during these years, you would have preferred a more malleable duke.

The Estates General had intended for Maximilian to be ousted from his role as guardian and regent in all the lands of the dukes of Burgundy. But the estates themselves were not a balanced body. The number of delegates and their selection process had not been formalized, so that sometimes entire provinces were absent from the debates. And given the meetings were often held in Ghent or Bruges, the representatives of the cities of Flanders were usually over represented. And it was the cities of Flanders that were most adamant in their desire to get rid of Maximilian, whose wasteful wars and rapacious German administrators were destroying their lands, or so they said.

That view was not necessarily shared by everyone. Brabant and Hainault took a more favorable view of Maximilian, whose victory at Guinegate had protected these provinces from French occupation. Which is why Maximilian went straight to Mechelen, Antwerp and Brussels.

What happens next will be shocking to many fans of the Last Knight, the great chivalric hero. But we should not forget what he was fighting for. Not just for some piece of land he had hoped to rule thanks to an advantageous marriage, he was also fighting for the continued existence of his dynasty, whose survival in Austria was threatened by the king of Hungary, and even more importantly, he was fighting to one day see his children again, the boy and the girl who he had promised his dying wife to protect. With that much at stake, he did not take prisoners. The war in the Netherlands is turning even nastier.

His first act was to go to Liege where William de la Marck, the wild Boar of the Ardennes had not only unseated the prince bishop but had also split his head open with an axe. A battle fought outside the walls turned into a brutal massacre where Maximilian’s heavy artillery tore through the city militia. The terrified Liégeois threw the French out and let Maximilian in. The archduke, instead of punishing the murderous partman hired William into his army. William did get his just desert a few years later, not for his crimes but because he had betrayed Maximilian once too often.

Still raging with anger, Maximilian had all city councillors and noblemen in Brabant arrested who at some point had supported the French. They were tried and convicted and five of them were executed, including the mayor of Antwerp. This blood court led to a further hardening of position, not in Brabant, but across the border in Flanders. Led by Ghent, Bruges and Ypres, the estates established a regency council that comprised the city governments and several senior aristocrats, some of them members of the order of the Golden Fleece.

Though before Maximilian could turn his forces against his main opposition in Flanders, he had to deal with another problem, Utrecht. The prince bishopric of Utrecht, like Liege, had been an associate part of the Burgundian state and its bishop was chosen by the dukes. The current officeholder was David, an illegitimate son of Philip the Good, or as they called it at the time, a bastard of Burgundy. David’s position as bishop of Utrecht had been precarious, ever since his father had pushed his nomination against the opposition of the Hooks, and he had not helped things when he forced through a radical centralisation policy. When the death of Marie of Burgundy created a political opening, the Hooks in Utrecht captured their bishop and paraded him around in a cart filled with manure before putting him in jail.

That mistreatment of a member of the ducal family called out for revenge. Maximilian brought his heavy artillery before Utrecht and systematically pulverised the city walls. After 2 months the eminent citizens came out of the gates barefoot and with ropes around their necks, begging for forgiveness. The city was fined 40,000 gulden, ordered to dismiss all their troops, give up their privileges as an independent city and had to permit the construction of a fortress inside its walls.

Over the subsequent months he reestablished his hold over Guelders and Holland, took Arnheim and made peace with the duke of Cleves.

He now held the entirety of the North of the Low Countries and had his back free. It was time to turn on the rebellious cities of Flanders.

And another event strengthened Maximilian’s hand. King Louis XI, the wily adversary whose intrigues had sent Charles the Bold into his frozen death and whose spider’s web of allies and bribery agents had already brought 6 years of war and devastation to the Burgundian state, died on August 30th, 1483.

The cities of Flanders sent an embassy to Paris to congratulate the new king of France, the 13-year old Charles VIII and renewed the treaty of Arras. Maximilian had the envoys arrested for treason before they could return to Ghent.

Then he declared the regency council dissolved. His agents distributed pamphlets claiming the regency council, including the knights of the Golden Fleece who served on it, had harmed duke Philip, his son and their hereditary lord. The regency council responded, stating that they were loyal subjects of their true lord, archduke Philip, and that Maximilian had been fighting ruinous and useless wars and had allowed the remaining cash to be taken out of the country by his corrupt German advisers. Hence the only way to protect the Netherlanders from eternal subservience to the Germans was if Philip was educated as a Netherlander, here in the Low countries.

Before we get on with this story, it may be worth while to ask the question, what the deep underlying reason for their objection to Maximilian’s rule was. Sure the points they made about corruption and the independence of the Netherlands from foreign control were truly felt. But if we go one abstraction level up, and look into Maximilian’s broader political objectives, we see something that is much more traditionally Burgundian. The young Habsburg wasn’t introducing new and foreign policy instruments, what he was doing was continuing the policies of Philipp the Good  and Charles the Bold, who had tried to forge their diverse territories into one coherent and ideally contiguous state, a kingdom even. That would include one central appellate court in Mechelen, a central fiscal and administrative organization and a standing army.

All that sounds fairly modern, so why did the elites in the Flemish cities whose business network spanned the known world and who were more literate and better educated than most, why did they object? The reason we live – more or less happily – in centralized states today is because the state holds a monopoly on violence, protecting me from bandits and baddies, ideally from invasions too. The advantages of safe roads and borders should be evident to a Flemish merchant, but apparently it wasn’t. They were prepared to go all the way to thwart such centralization and modernity. Why?

One part is simply pride, pride in your city, pride in the long list of charters a place like Ghent had wrestled from reluctant princes that granted self determination and freedom. Freedom is always a great rallying cry, though it can mean very different things to different people.

Given my background and world view, I also believe there was a strong commercial motive her. And so it may be a good idea to go to the father of economic understanding, Adam Smith and one of his most famous quotes:

“In all countries where there is a tolerable security, every man of common understanding will endeavour to employ whatever stock he can command, in procuring either present enjoyment or future profit.[..] A man must be perfectly crazy, who, where there is a tolerable security, does not employ all the stock which he commands, [  ] in some one or other of those [..] ways. In those unfortunate countries, indeed, where men are continually afraid of the violence of their superiors, they frequently bury or conceal a great part of their stock, in order to have it always at hand to carry with them to some place of safety, in case of they being threatened with any of those disasters to which they consider themselves at all times exposed.” End quote. Source: Wealth-Nations).

Montesquieu makes this even more explicit:

 “Great enterprises in commerce are not found in monarchical, but republican governments….An opinion of greater certainty as to the possession of property in these [republican] states makes [merchants] undertake everything….Thinking themselves sure of what they have already acquired, they boldly expose it in order to acquire more…” end quote

And to bring in a modern instead of an 18th century source, here are Bradford de Long and Shleifer in their 1991 paper on Princes and Merchants: quote

“As measured by the pace of city growth in western europe between 1000 to 1800, absolutist monarchs stunted the growth of commerce and industry. A region ruled by an absolutist prince saw its urban population shrink by 100,000 people per century relative to a region without absolutist government. This might be explained by higher rates of taxation under revenue maximizing absolutist governments than under non-absolutist governments, which care more about general economic prosperity and less about state revenue.”

Bottom line, what the Gentenaars feared, beyond the impact on their personal freedoms and privileges, was the impact that a centralizing, authoritarian government could have on their business. The history of the Flemish cities is full of counts and duke whose political objectives were fundamentally at odds with the economic interests of the burghers, resulting in a never-ending string of uprisings and wars. This latest revolt against Maximilian was therefore nothing new or unusual.

If one was a betting man, the odds were very much in favor of the cities of Flanders. Ghent, Bruges and Ypres were the by far richest cities in Northern Europe. The networks of their merchants and the reputation of their cloth stretched across the whole of europe. They were home to the branches and counting houses of the bankers of Florence, the traders of Genoa, Venice, Barcelona and Lisbon, the merchants of the Hanseatic league and the wool-sellers of England and Wales.

And beyond the all important coin, they could rely on support from the French. Sure, young king Charles VIII was no match to his father, but his elder sister and the current regent of France, Anne de Beaujeu was. She became known as “Madame la Grande”, on account of her masterful management of France during the troubles following Louis XI’s death. Her father called her “the least foolish woman in France”, which is another black mark against an already thoroughly blackened reputation.

In any event, she was no pushover and French support for the Flemings, and in particular the Gentenaars, the inhabitants of Ghent and Bruggelingen, the citizens of Bruges was firm. I cannot believe I missed out on these most excellent terms over these last episodes. There is also Brugse Zotten, which I understand is very rude and will be reserved for next week’s episode.

There we go, the Gentenaars, Bruggelingen et. al. put together an army and recruit a suitable commander, Jacob of Romont, once a friend and lieutenant of Charles the Bold and – according to some – the true engineer of Maximilian’s victory at Guinegate.

As for Maximilian, his financial resources had never been great, but now, without the tax income  from Ghent and Bruges, his tresury in truly dire straits. His debts had already built up to one million florins. But then…

Maximilian had, as we just described, brought Brabant, Hainault, Holland, Seeland, Guelders, Liege and Utrecht under his control. These lands may not be as rich in coin as Flanders, but almost as populous.

And these places followed Maximilian not just out of fear. When the Estates General established the regency council and their guardianship over little Philipp, they had set up a rotational system whereby the young duke was to be passed around the different provinces of his realm, so as to get to know their institutions and customs. But that never happened. The Gentenaars never let little Philipp stray beyond the walls of their city out of the justified concern that Maximilian may capture/free him. But that left the other provinces suspecting a takeover by the Flemish.

And finally, inside Ghent and Bruges, there were different factions. Not everyone was sufficiently concerned about the long term impact on their economy to bear the near term pain of a prolonged war, the burning of the countryside and eventually a siege of the city.

The division also had a social component. In Ghent the pro- French, pro war party relied heavily on the lower classes, led by a sock maker, Jan van Coppenhole and two other men, called Rijm and Ondrede, which in Dutch could be translated as Rhyme and Unreason, whilst the “friends of Austria” tended to be the upper classes of cloth merchants and long distance traders.

Hostilities began with Gent and Bruges arming two fortresses that overlooked the entrance of the Scheldt River, interrupting commercial traffic into Antwerp, right around the time the annual great fair was supposed to take place. Maximilian responded by first destroying the fleet of Flanders’ privateers before taking the two fortresses and hanging all its defenders.

The next target was the small, but strategically important city of Dendermonde. Maximilian disguised his soldiers as monks and pilgrims, even persuaded an abbess to provide additional credibility, and sent them into Denderonde. They got to the gate, and whilst the city guards were debating whether to let the abbess in, the pretend monks jumped off their carts and ran the guards through and secured the gate. Maximilian rode into the city with a large detachment and Dendermonde submitted.

The Gentenaars and Bruggelingen responded with a massive attack on Brabant, including Brussels. That nearly broke Maximilian’s alliance, but through sheer strength of personality he stiffened the resolve of the Brusseleers and raised the militia of Hainault that drove the enemy back.

Now it was Maximilian’s turn. He took the city of Oudenaarde where his supporters opened the gate. Again, Maximilian rode onto the main square, asked the citizens to yield, or he would unleash his mercenaries.

These successes had swelled the ranks of his army, which now counted 20,000, mostly men of foot. And he had some extremely heavy artillery that had allowed him to break the walls of Liege, Utrecht ad so many other places.

That was the plus side, but on the other side of the equation, the French now officially entered the war. M. de Crevecoer, who had risen to Marshall of France despite his extremely poor management of the battle of Guinegate, slipped 4,500 top notch French troops into the city of Ghent, reinforcing the 16,000 solider under Romont.

Maximilian’s senior officers advised against an attack of Ghent. The enemy forces were too strong and the walls reinforced. Still Maximilian was determined to get the greatest city in his land under his control and get his son back.

His solution to overcome the strength of Ghent was to play on the two greatest human motivators, fear and greed. When the wind stood in the right direction, he ordered his soldiers to burn the suburbs, including the extremely expensive and crucial windmills. As the smoke was drifting into the city, the Gentenaars feared for their livelihoods and streamed out of the gates to extinguish the fires. Meanwhile Maximilian’s army had advanced towards Ghent under the cover of the smoke. Once they deemed to be close enough they spurred on their horses and rushed down towards the gates. Some militiamen tried to fend off the attackers, but most of them ran back towards the gate. Everything happened so fast, a number of Maximilian’s riders had overtaken the fleeing Gentenaars and had gone through. The guards on the gate had to make a painful decision, wait for everybody to get back inside, which meant letting Maximilian get through, or let the gate crush down and leave your fellow citizens outside to be captured or hanged. They decided to drop the gate.

Maximilian’s attack had not succeeded, but it had rattled the Gentenaars. He sent messages into the city asking whether he ever had demanded as much in taxation and hardship as their new city government was now exacting. And all that to withhold his son from him? Was that destruction of their lands worth, just to live without a prince?

His supporters in the city begged him to halt the plundering of the countryside for 15 days, enough time they said to change the minds of their fellow citizens.

Maximilian granted them this reprieve and took his army away from Ghent to tackle the other rebellious city, Bruges. This time he opted for an attack by sea. He went to Antwerp and requisitioned a 100 ships, loaded his soldiers on board and went for Sluis, the commercial harbour of the great trading city. He captured a number of ships and threatened to burn and bomb those moored up in the inner harbour. That was enough for the merchants of Bruges. They opened their gates and Maximilian entered under great jubilation. He did punish the leaders of the pro war party harshly, confiscated all French ships in the harbour but confirmed the great city’s rights and privileges.

When news of the fall of Bruges arrived in Ghent, the radicals led by Rijm, Odenrade and Coppenhole prepared for a last stand. They seized what remained of the ducal treasury and sent it down to the mint to hire replacements for the mercenaries that were leaving the city every day. That was the moment the guilds sided with the patricians and overthrew the government. They put them on trial, accusing them of having called in the French and broken the peace. Rijs and Odenrade were beheaded, but Coppenhole managed to escape.

The Gentenaars opened negotiations with Maximilian.  They accepted Maximilian as the guardian and regent for their lord, young Philipp, paid reparations of 360,000 Ecus and opened their gates. In return Maximilian promised not to take Philipp out of the Low Countries, grant a general amnesty and not bring more soldiers into Ghent than he had brought into Bruges.

When Maximilian arrived before Ghent, his son Philipp was awaiting him. The chronicler Jean Molinet described the scene as such: And when the son saw his father, he took off his hat, and as they approached each other, they did honours to one another; and when they came together, they embraced and kissed each other, whereupon the hearts of those who saw them were so filled with joy that they wept copious tears.” End quote.It had been more than 3 years since the two had seen each other. After Philip and Maximilian’s reunion, the young Count of Flanders was sent off to live under the guidance of his grandmother, Margaret of York, in her dowager town of Mechelen.

Maximilian entered the city of Ghent with 6,000 men. And this time, the victorious entry was not led by knights on horseback. Instead his army marched on foot, eight abreast, even his generals, most of them noblemen like the count of Nassau, the Lord of Montigny, the Lord of Palmes, and others had dismounted .

A whole string of battles, Crecy, Muhlberg, Morgarten, Sempach, Grandson, Murten, Nancy, Guinegate and so forth had proven the superiority of disciplined infantry over knightly forces.  This was the first time the new military order was recognised in a victory parade.

But there were some issues that made the people of Ghent nervous. Maximilian had brought 6,000 of his best soldiers, not 500 as he had promised in the peace treaty. And these men may be disciplined in the field, in a city, particularly in a defeated city, they were not. Here is what jean Molinet tells us happened next:

“The following Monday, the eleventh of July, at about noon, four Germans went to the prison [..] on the grain market to retrieve three or four Germans who had been imprisoned there by the townspeople for attempting to break into their lodgings. The four Germans immediately took the keys from the prison guard, whom they locked up in a room. They opened two doors and approached the prisoners, but were unable to do anything more, for the guard cried out so loudly for help that many people from in front of and behind the prison immediately came to see what was happening, so that the Germans did not dare to leave. The people who had gathered in front of the prison, informed of the situation,[…] went to the town hall, where the court was assembled, and demanded justice […].

At  this time, the duke found himself at the town hall, greatly astonished by this gathering and their unusual behaviour, asked the Flemings to go back to their homes; which they refused to do, saying that they were not asking anything of the duke, but wanted punishment for the said Germans. The duke agreed, but that was no longer enough for them; for by around six o’clock in the evening, they brought their banners to the old market, which they closed off with carts and set up their serpentines, bombards, culverins, falconets and other instruments of war.

Seeing this, the duke, wishing to know their intentions, sent the bishop of Cambray to them, who informed them that the duke was very displeased with them and sought to pacify them with gentle and kind words, but they took no heed of his remonstraions. At about ten o’clock at night, they left the Old Market, in battle formation, with all their weapons, and marched towards the ducal palace, reaching the bridge near the Augustinians, the Place Sainte-Vierge and the bridge where heads are cut off. When the duke learned of their departure, he gathered the Germans and his other men at Ten Walle, his fortress, and commanded each of them to carry the banner of St. Andrew’s Cross in front and behind them; and it was decided to attack the said Gantenaars and put everything to fire and sword;

But Monseigneur Philippe of Ravenstain and several good burghers of Ghent fell to their knees before the duke. He relented, and with the duke’s consent, the lord of Ravenstein and the count of Chimay went to appease the aforementioned Flemings. But they were rebuffed and lost many of their hats, coats, slippers and other clothing, which greatly displeased the duke; and worse still, the people of Ghent rang the great Roland, that is to say, the bell of alarm;

Maximilian then sent a small number of Germans and Angles to skirmish with them. They did good work on all sides; and drove people and animals into the river; and some Flemings were killed. {…]; the Gantenaars retreated to the old market. The duke then offered forgiveness, on condition that certain persons be taken from both sides to satisfy them for the injustices they had suffered; so they withdrew their banners to their homes at about six o’clock in the morning on Tuesday.

That same day, the Duke, accompanied by his nobles and a well-ordered group of Germans, came to the town hall at about nine o’clock, where, after much lengthy discussion, he demanded the imprisonment of the leaders who had instigated or were the cause of this armed uprising and mutiny. Five or six men were arrested that same day and taken prisoner.

The duke hastily brought back his men-at-arms who were in the town and castle of L’Escluse,; he also called his garrisons from Ath, Enghien, Tenremonde and Audenarde; and around noon, Monseigneur Philippe de Ravestain, accompanied by four hundred Englishmen, took up positions in the crossbowmen’s fortress located in front of Thostel in the town, where they spent the night in arms, the Germans moved into another quarter near the old market to subdue the said Gentenaars;

The Duke of Austria {…] had the people of Ghent themselves rebuild the five bridges that they had broken during the war, near his fortress in Ten Walle, so that he could leave as he wished.

The people of Ghent had built on their fish market a staircase eighteen to twenty feet high, on which stood four lions, one bearing the arms of the king (of France), another those of Duke Philip, the third those of the county of Flanders, and the fourth those of the city of Ghent. The duke had the king’s arms removed in broad daylight and replaced with his own. The duke had the artillery of Monseigneur des Querdes, as well as that of Ghent, taken to his fortress; and the people of Ghent returned to him his tapestry, his cross, his library and other jewels amounting to a great treasure; and they offered to pay him one hundred and twenty-seven thousand gold escudos within a year.

The mutineers who started this dispute were tortured to the number of forty. On Saturday, seven Gantenaars were executed, two of whom had paid twelve hundred pounds of gros. End quote.

Maximilian had achieved what no other Burgundian duke had been able to do. He had subdued the rebellious city of Ghent by military force. Not even Philipp the Good had achieved that.

Which gets us back to the initial question, why there are so few city states left.

In previous centuries Ghent and most other medieval cities have been able to withstand the power of territorial princes. The Hanseatic League had defeated the king of Denmark, the Lombard league of Italian cities pushed out the emperors Frederick Barbarossa and Frederick II, countless German cities shook off the overlordship of their bishops, dukes and counts during the 13th and 14th century.

From the middle of the 15th century, that process went into reverse. Many members of the Hanseatic League came under the control of local princes, some venerable places like Mainz faced financial collapse and had to seek shelter with a territorial ruler, the Italian cities were taken over first by local tyrants in the form of the Signoria and then by the great territorial states of Milan, Venice, Florence, the Papal States, Ferrara, Mantua and a few more.

The still prevailing theory argues that this was the result of changes in methods and scale of warfare. The use of artillery and infantry required early modern armies to be trained to coordinate across the different arms, something that required either a standing army or the use of mercenaries. Either of these were exponentially more expensive than warfare had been in previous centuries. Only larger state entities were able to deploy violence on this scale, making city states obsolete.

If we look at the events of Maximilian’s campaign to regain control of the Low Countries between 1483 and 1486, I am not sure it supports this theory. Maximilian’s resources were limited compared to the combined force of Ghent and France. His success was built more on cunning, personality and the internal divisions amongst his opponents than brute force of his army.

There is a countertheory that says that the formation of modern, territorial states was actually a phenomena on the European periphery, in France, Prussia, Austria-Hungary and Russia, whilst in the areas that formed and still forms the economic heartland of europe, the famous Blue Banana that is made up of Northern Italy, Western Germany, the Low Countries and England had remained somewhat fragmented exactly because the cities had the resources to fend off the pressure of larger territorial entities, which again allowed them to benefit from the absence of absolutist rule.   

This question, whether the scale and structure of the military forced consolidation or whether there were other drivers in play will be a constant companion in the episodes to come.

Either way, for Ghent this affair had long term dire consequences. The 8 years of constant warfare, the destruction of the land and the uprisings unsettled many of the richest merchants and entrepreneurs. Antwerp, not far away in Brabant seemed a much more stable centre of operations, away from the French border. And after all that had happened, Maximilian was now intent to promote his duchy of Brabant over the unreliable Gentenaars and Bruggelingen. A slow exodus to Antwerp and Brussels began. That exodus will accelerate even further, when the Flemish cities attempt for one last time to get rid of Maximilian three years later.

But in-between Maximilian will return to Holy Roman Empire where things have gone seriously wrong. The same day Maximilian entered Ghent in triumph, Matthias Hunyadi, the king of Hungary did the same in Vienna. His father, the emperor Friedrich III had become homeless, the ancestral lands were lost. The Wittelsbachs were stretching their mitts out to gain Tyrol from the feckless Siegmund and the Turks, the Imperial Reform, everything was stalling. The victor of Flanders, the ruler of the Burgundian Netherlands was needed back home.

How he fares there is what we will discuss, well not next week, since next week is when I will drop you some travel advice, but the week after that. And then there is Yuletide, which, in the German tradition, takes place at midnight on the 24th of December, exactly as it says in St. Luke, not on the 25th as these godless Anglo-Saxons believe. And with that caveat, Merry Christmas to you all.

Against all the odds..

“In the same way that Jerusalem is the navel of the world, is Nurnberg the navel of Germany” is how Matthäus Dresser described the city in 1581. The astronomer Johannes Regiomontanus moved to Nurnberg in 1471 because there” …one can easily associate with learned men wherever they live. Because of the cosmopolitanism of its merchants, this place is regarded as the center of Europe”.

How did this city grow within 200 years from an imperial castle far from the main transport links, without a harbour and on famously poor soil into one of the three most important urban centres in Germany whose merchants were well regarded in all corners of the world, whose printers published the works of Europe’s leading intellectuals, whose artists were and remain of global renown and whose engineers produced breakthrough after breakthrough.

Let’s find out

TRANSCRIPT

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 153 – The rise of the city of Nürnberg, also published as episode 16 of Series 8: From the Interregnum to the Golden Bull, 1250-1356.

“In the same way that Jerusalem is the navel of the world, is Nurnberg the navel of Germany” is how Matthäus Dresser described the city in 1581. The astronomer Johannes Regiomontanus moved to Nurnberg in 1471 because there” …one can easily associate with learned men wherever they live. Because of the cosmopolitanism of its merchants, this place is regarded as the center of Europe”.

How did this city grow within 200 years from an imperial castle far from the main transport links, without a harbour and on famously poor soil into one of the three most important urban centres in Germany whose merchants were well regarded in all corners of the world, whose printers published the works of Europe’s leading intellectuals, whose artists were and remain of global renown and whose engineers produced breakthrough after breakthrough.

Let’s find out

But before we start let me once again tell you that the History of the Germans is advertising free thanks to the generosity of our patrons. Ad you can become a patron too by signing up on patreon.com/history of the Germans or on my website, historyofthegermans.com/support, And let me thank BJ B., Warren W., Corneliu D., GRAEME T H., James, Felix C. and Duane S. who have already signed up. And now back to the show

Enea Silvio Piccolomini, the future pope Pius II and at the time cardinal legate in the empire wrote that quote “when comparing one nation with another, there is no reason to rate the Italian cities above the German ones. The German cities appear so youthful, as if they had been created and built just a few days earlier”. High praise indeed.

In the late 15th century when this was written there were nearly 3,000 cities in the wider empire north of the Alps, not all of them comparable to Florence, Milan or Rome. Some had barely more than a few hundred inhabitants and served more as the lord’s castle than as trading metropolises. The ones he is likely to have referred to were the three largest and commercially most important ones, Cologne, Lübeck and Nürnberg.

So, let us take a look at whether the future pope and creator of his own ideal city, the lovely Pienza in Tuscany was exaggerating, and if not, how Germania turned from a land of impassable forests into a a landscape dominated by cities, large and small.

Nobody would have suggested that German cities, even the largest ones, in and  around the year 1200 could compete with a sophisticated and wealthy metropolis like Milan or Venice. To understand why such comparison was at all conceivable, we have to go back to the fundamental changes in the economic landscape since then.

One of the main axes of medieval German history had been the expansion eastwards we covered in Season 5. If you have not listened to it, the broad brush story is that from around 1150 onwards about 200,000 people moved from the densely populated regions of Flanders, Holland and the Rhineland into the lands east of the Elbe roughly equivalent to the area of the former east Germany. In a second roughly equal sized wave that began around 1250 German speaking migrants moved further east, into Silesia, Poland, Prussia, the western part of Bohemia, Hungary, modern day Romania and many more places.

The emigration was organised by professional Locatores who were employed by the local lords, some of them Germans, but often also Polish, Hungarian or Bohemian princes who were looking to cut down the forests and develop their land. They would offer the immigrants the opportunity to own a sizeable plot in a to be founded village or town in exchange for an initially low level of taxation. This process was in many ways similar to the opening up of the American West and had a similar impact on economic growth. By 1350 this process had been more or less completed. By then, almost all of europe had been brought under cultivation, either by colonists or by the existing population.

In parallel to this expansion eastwards, almost all of the land in the western parts of the empire that had so far been regarded as not attractive enough also got developed. What we can see from archaeology and the names of parcels of land is that by the 14th century agriculture had been penetrating into areas where yields were truly marginal. Bogs have been drained and alpine valleys brought up to grow rye and barley. Vines was planted as far north as the valleys of the Ems, Weser and Oder, even in Prussia. At no point before or after was there more acreage used for agriculture in europe than in the 14th century.

This indicates that by 1350 the population expansion that had began in the 10th century should have reached its natural limits. Without a major improvement in agricultural production technique, the land was simply not able to feed any more people, except if there was a way to import food from areas that still produced surplus. And such areas did exist, in the lands further east. The Ukraine was a breadbasket not just today, but already then. As we heard in series 6, regions for instance along the Baltic coast geared up to provide foodstuff for the densely populated territories in the West. These foodstuffs included not just grain, but also salted herring and stockfish as well as beer, wine, honey and lots more.

We did discuss one  leg of this trade in quite some detail in the series about the Hanseatic League.  There was a similar leg of this trade on the east-west axis further south, initially along the Danube river and later across the middle of Germany along the key nodes of Leipzig and Nürnberg.

To put that into context, Germany’s largest city, Cologne consumed 5-7,000 oxen per year that were driven down 300km from Frisia and the Emsland, innumerable pigs were made to walk even further from Lorraine or Meissen to Cologne. Grain, which did not spoil so easily was transported across even larger distances.

The other set of commodities the western cities needed were metals, both precious metals like gold and silver as well as base metals like iron, copper, tin and lead. The 14th and 15th century is a time of innovations, in particular in armour and mechanics. For instance, cities took immense pride in their elaborate town clocks. These were initially operated as water clocks, but from the late 13th century onwards these were replaced by mechanical clocks. By the middle of the 15th century, there were over 500 mechanical clocks in operation on public buildings across europe. These new instruments required high quality iron or copper to work. And as we mentioned many times before, the great mineral reservoirs were in Bohemia, in Saxony, in Hungary and in Sweden. By the time of Margarete Maultasch the deposits of silver and base metals in Tirol were also going into production.

This rising demand for commodities changed the way things were transported. A merchant bringing luxury items like precious stones, silks or spices could carry his wares on horseback or on a mule train. Transporting tons of herring or grain across half of europe required either boats or heavy wagons. And that meant what was needed was new infrastructure. Sometimes cities needed to be connected to rivers by canals, like for instance the canal linking Lubeck to the Elbe that was built in 1398. Another example is the construction of the Via regia that started in the 13th century and connected Kyiv and Moscow on one end  and Burges and Santiago de Compostela at the other.

These new trading connections shifted the centre of European trade eastwards from the 13th century onwards. Whilst the German cities along the Rhine, in particular on the lower Rhine had been closely integrated into the European trading system, the new cities further east, such as Leipzig, Breslau, Krakow, Nürnberg and Regensburg were now linked into these pan-European commercial networks as well.

On top of these structural changes, the German cities benefitted from political events as well. In 1284 the trading fairs in Champagne that had been the key location where Italian purveyors of luxury goods met with Flemish cloth merchants, went into a surreptitious decline. One of the reasons for this was that king Philipp the Fair, he who had the Templars dissolved and had lifted Henry VII on the throne, had made a major economic policy mistake.  In an attempt to centralise France he placed heavy taxation on the Italian merchants coming to Champagne, waged war against the cities of Flanders; prevented their merchants from entering France and blocked the export of French wool. Within just 20 years, the once thriving fairs of Champagne had collapsed.

This foolishness was followed by the 100 years war that had been brewing for a long time but kicked off in earnest in 1337. The resulting devastation of in particular north eastern France disrupted the traditional routes from Italy to Flanders along the ancient roman roads from Marseille to Lyon, Reims, Troyes, Arras and then to Ghent and Bruges. 

The great beneficiaries of this blockage were the German cities. And not only those along the Rhine. Because more and more passes opened across the Alps, including the already mentioned Gotthard, wares now travelled directly north from Venice and Florence on the via imperii to Augsburg, Nürnberg and Leipzig and from there either to Flanders and France via Frankfurt or North to the Hanse world or even eastwards into Poland, Ukraine and Russia.

As for the fairs, these continued, just not in Champagne. The fair at Frankfurt took their role as the great place of exchange between East and West and North and South.

All these different megatrends, population growth, the colonisation of the east, the shifting trading patterns from luxury to commodities, the troubles and foolishness of French kings can explain a lot of what is happening here. But there is something else going on that is remarkable. If you remember when we looked at the foundation of Lübeck, there was a big question mark why this place, not necessarily at the geographically most promising corner of the Baltic could rise to such prominence against the competition from the already established city of Haitabu. Something about the people who moved there, the political and educational system must have helped to create this success.

And if you think Lübeck was a bit of a long shot, the other great trading city of the 14th century, Nürnberg was an even more surprising story.

Nurnberg’s origins are a bit obscure. The city first appears as an imperial castle in 1050, during the reign of  emperor Henry III. The next time we hear about it is during the wars between Lothar III and the Hohenstaufen when the emperor besieged Konrad III in Nurnberg, unsuccessfully. That suggests that by then the castle had already become a sizeable fortress. Once Konrad III had become king, Nürnberg became a popular place for him to stay and was made the administrative centre of the imperial lands surrounding it. The administration was entrusted to a Burggrave which again indicates the significance of the location. From 1190 onwards the position of Burggrave was given to the counts of Zollern, direct ancestors of the Hohenzollern kings of Prussia and German emperors.

The Burgraves prove to be very apt operators and managed to expand their territory materially from their base on the castle of Nürnberg. Meanwhile a settlement grew up below the castle. Initially the merchants and artisans who came there mostly served the castle. The castle had by now become one of the central locations for the Hohenstaufen emperors. Frederick Barbarossa came here 12 times and held 5 imperial diets here. Sponsorship by the Hohenstaufen continued under Henry VI who expanded the castle.

The big step up came in 1219 under Frederick II. Frederick II granted the city and its merchants imperial protection and exemption from various tolls. In his reasoning the emperor noted that the town needed support because it had no vineyards, that its river, the Pregnitz wasn’t navigable  and that its soil was poor.

And he wasn’t wrong. Nurnberg had none of the advantages other successful cities had benefitted from. It had never been the seat of either a territorial prince or a bishop. It did not get a university before the 18th century, it wasn’t on any major trading route before it forced the routes to go through their town, it had no harbour or quay where to land wares by ship, it had no natural resources and its land as well as the surrounding territory had sandy, poor soil. Even the forests that surrounded it would not have lasted long, had it not been regularly replanted.

How they became the foremost trading city in the southern part of the empire has been the subject of debate for a long time. One indicator may have been a document issued by Ludwig IV, the Bavarian in 1332. This charter references special trading rights and privileges for citizens of Nurnberg in over 70 other cities in the empire. If you remember the series about the Hanse, one of the great value propositions to its members had been special trading privileges in various placees. The difference here is that the Hanse gained rights for instance in Bruges by coordinated action across multiple cities that held a collective monopoly on certain key products. What Nurnberg managed was to acquire a similar position exclusively for its own merchants and that without a genuine monopoly position.

To understand how they got these, we have to look a bit under the hood of the Nurnberg  model. Again, if you remember the Hanse merchants were organised and operated through a system of social control. If you were a Hanse merchant in Riga and you traded with a colleague in Hamburg, you either had some family ties to and/or you knew each other well from time spent together at one of the Kontor houses in Novgorod or Bergen. Moreover, you would control your partner in Hamburg by having relationships with other merchants in Hamburg who would keep an eye out for prices, trends and unusual behaviours of your counterpart. In return you would do the same for these other merchants. Business dealings were also incredibly interlinked, with merchants constantly handling funds and wares on someone else’s behalf. And all that without double bookkeeping. Basically, the Hanse was a system built entirely on trust, and because of it, the Hanse firms rarely grew to become large operations. And there was no need for banks, as merchants would grant credit to each other.

Nurnberg was organised very differently. Its merchants operated much more like the illustrious Italian houses, the Bardi, the Peruzzi and later the Medici. That means each of the great Nurnberg families, the Pfinzing, the Mendel, Stromeir, Kress,  Rummel, Pirkheimer, Koler, Grantel and Imhof had their own system of connections and maintained their representative offices abroad. These firms weren’t just merchants, they were also bankers. They built relationships with kings, emperors and the territorial lords who they advised on finance and on the most important technology of the late middle ages, mining.

One of the place where they gained the strongest footholds was in the kingdom of Hungary. Nurnberg merchants received their first trading privilege there in 1357. For the next 50 years the Nurnberger and the Florentines competed for the right to exploit the rich silver, copper and gold mines of Hungary. Nurnberg won this contest, largely because they could organise the supply of competent miners from the Harz mountains and other mining centres and because they had developed the Saiger process, a secret method to separate silver from the copper ore. That was so important that king Sigismund decided to expel the Florentines, seize their money and grant Nurnberg a monopoly on mining in Hungary. That monopoly at some point covered 90% of European gold production and 30% of silver and copper.   

Mining and metalwork was an important industry in Nurnberg and its surrounding areas. They had access to iron ore from the upper palatinate and used wood from the surrounding imperial forests for the smelting. These woods needed to be replenished regularly, so the mining entrepreneur Peter Stromeier came up with the idea of sowing the cleared forests with fast growing spruce, the first attempt at sustainability in the otherwise quite rapacious Middle Ages. And the beginnings of the classic German needle forests we have today.

Another skill the ingenious Nürnbergers developed was a way to pump out so-called drowned pits, which again led to dramatic improvements in productivity.

But they did not stop at just mining the raw materials. Nurnberg was also the place where we find the first machines to draw wires. Wires are made by drawing thicker piece of metal through consecutively smaller holes. This was initially done by hand, but later by using watermills. By the way water and windmills too are something that only really took hold in the 14th century. And wire was a crucial component in various other products, namely nails, needles, rivets, eyelets and mail shirts. Wire was also a key for the wire screens used in the production of paper, where Nurnberg was again taking the lead.  The quality of their products was such that it was exported all across europe and even into the Ottoman empire and Persia.

These basic industries laid the foundations for Nurnberg’s golden age in the late 15th and early 16th century when Peter Henlein produced the first ever watch, Albrecht Durer dazzled the world with his prints, Hartmann Schedel produced the Nuremberg chronicle that for the first time allowed people to get an idea what at least some cities looked like, it was the city where Martin Behaim produced the very first terrestrial globe and Kopernikus published his astronomical works claiming the sun and, not the earth sits at the centre of the solar system, etc., etc.

One of the reasons Nurnberg remained innovative for such a long time might have to do with the fact that the city uniquely had no guilds. The guilds of Nurnberg had rebelled against the elite of long distance merchants and upon the suppression of the revolt the emperor banned guilds from Nurnberg for good. Without guilds, intrepid inventors were able to pursue their ideas without constantly running up against rules designed to maintain a monopoly of the existing artisans.

The other advantage the absence of guilds had was to allow the creation of something they called the Verlagswesen. What that meant was that entrepreneurs could hire competent workmen or even trained artisans to produce goods on his behalf. The entrepreneur would provide the raw materials, the designs and would later sell the finished goods. The workman would be paid by the piece. This allowed for the rapid scaling up of production to an almost pre-industrial level. So by 1363 the city already contained 1,216 master artisans, a huge number relative to an overall size of about 20,000.

As for the cash that all this trading activity generated, it was mostly reinvested in the ever expanding projects and sometime lent to the rulers of the day. It was again our friend Ludwig IV who relied on the financial muscle of the Nurnberg patricians. His banker, Konrad Gross became indispensable in the various adventures of the Bavarian.

Banking and complex international finance required proper bookkeeping and this is again an area where the Nurnberg trading houses excelled. One of the oldest complete book of accounts in Germany comes from Nurnberg, dating back to 1304-1307 and the first one using Arab numerals dates back from 1389. Double bookkeeping was brought in from Italy and quickly took hold.

It is under Ludwig IV that Nurnberg rebuilds its link to the rulers of the Holy Roman Empire. The city had hosted various diets during the Interregnum, but the Bavarian really put it on the map. He stayed in Nürnberg an astonishing 72 times and held a plethora of imperial diets there.

This close relationship with the rulers of the empire continued with Ludwig’s successor, Charles IV. Charles made Nurnberg one of the central locations of the empire when he issued his golden bull in the city and also established the rule that the very first imperial diet of a newly elected emperor was to be held in Nürnberg. The emperor Sigismund then entrusted the imperial regalia to the city of Nurnberg where they remained until the end of the Holy Roman Empire when they were brought to Vienna.

With all this enthusiasm for the city of Nurnberg, I have to mention a dark side to the story as well. Its success had attracted a large Jewish community. Jewish moneylenders were the only serious competition to the Nurnberg bankers since the Lombards had been kept out of most of Southern Germany thanks to imperial support. Moreover, the Jewish community had settled in an area of the city that was initially quite unattractive but by the middle of the 14th century had become extremely desirable. The desire for this land, the wish to get rid of competition, together with the general European trend to persecute Jewish communities led to a number of pogroms, the first as part of the notorious Rintfleisch massacres of 1298 but then most severely during the mass murders in the wake of the black death.

The fact that Nurnberg did go through with these is particularly unexpected since jews were under the explicit protection of the emperor who had declared them his domestic servants, which meant any attack on a Jew was also an attack on the emperor himself. Nurnberg as a city particularly close to the emperor should have headed to this rule, but seemingly got away with breaking it.

I will not go through the rest of Nurnberg’s history, its decline in the 17th and 18th century, its resurrection as an emblem of Romanticism, the Nurnberg rallies, the destruction in world war II and the Nuremberg trials. This is a far too big chunk of history to deal with in the maximum 10 minutes left plus these topics will show up in the course of the show anyway.

One last thing though. Did Nurnberg indeed rival Florence, Venice or Milan, as Enea Silvio Piccolomini had claimed. I would love to be able to say yes, but then where is the duomo, the Uffizi and the doge’s palace. And there is also a kink in the future pope Pius II’s comment. He made it in the context of several German cities refusing to pay their dues to Rome, claiming poverty. So, I am afraid, it was just another case where the desire for cash made the church come up with claims that are at least subject to debate….

Now next time, which will again be unfortunately in two weeks, we will look at the opposite of the city of Nurnberg. Where Nurnberg is innovative and focused on the future, on money, industry and growth, the subject of our next podcast is looking towards the chivalric virtues of bravery, courtly love, crusades and haughty nobility. Yes, we will be talking about John, the blind king of Bohemia, the greatest chivalric hero of the 14th century and holder of the title, most admired death of the middle ages.  I hope you will join us again. And before we go, just a quick reminder that the History of the Germans podcast is advertising free thanks to your kind support.  If you think this show is worth it, you can become a patron at patreon.com/historyofthegermans or at historyofthegermans.com

Margarete Maultasch

“The twelve-year-old Margarete, Princess of Carinthia and Tyrol, was travelling from her seat near Meran to Innsbruck for her wedding with the ten-year old Prince Johann of Bohemia. [..]

Still and serious she sat, in ceremonial pomp. Her bodice was so tight that she had had to be laced into it; her sleeves of heavy green satin, in the very extreme of fashion, fell to her feet ; she wore one of the new jeweled hair-nets which an express courier had had to bring from Flanders, where they had recently appeared. A heavy necklace sparkled on her bosom, and large rings on her fingers. So she sat, serious and perspiring, weighed down with magnificence, between the peevish, grumbling women.

She looked older than her twelve years. Her thick-set body with its short limbs supported a massive misshapen head. The forehead, indeed, was clear and candid, the eyes quick and shrewd, penetrating and sagacious ; but below the small flat nose an ape-like mouth thrust forward its enormous jaws and pendulous underlip. Her copper colored hair was coarse, wiry and dull, her skin patchy and of a dull greyish pallor.”

That is how the author Lion Feuchtwanger described Margarete, the countess of Tirol who is better known as Margarete Maultasch, the ugly duchess. This historic novel that became a huge bestseller in the 1920s describes how a bright and ambitious, but monstrously ugly woman is crushed by society’s habit to judge the inside of a person by its appearance.

I still have a copy of this book from the 1980s when I first read it, and on its cover is the same image I used for this episode’s artwork. The picture was painted by Quentin Matsys in 1513 and according to the National Gallery’s catalogue is called a Grotesque Old Woman.

It is not a portrait of Margarete Maultasch who had died 150 years earlier. The identification of the sitter as Margarete Maultasch goes back the idea of a postcard seller in Meran in the 1920s. Matsys picture also made its way into the depiction of the Duchess in Alice in Wonderland.

But it is all hokum. Chroniclers who knew Margarete personally, like Johann von Viktring either do not mention her appearance at all, or call her beautiful, if not extremely beautiful. So, as much as I love Lion Feuchtwanger’s novel, which btw. is available in an English translation, it’s premise is simply false.

The truth is much more interesting. Her actions to defend her inherited county of Tyrol were the changes that tilted the complex equilibrium between the Habsburgs, the Wittelsbachs and the House of Luxemburg out of kilter with unpredictable, violent results.

So, let’s find out why and how and what…

TRANSCRIPT

Hello and Welcome to the History of the Germans, Episode 152: The not so ugly duchess Margarete Maultasch, also episode 15 of season 8 from the Interregnum to the Golden Bull, 1250-1356.

“The twelve-year-old Margarete, Princess of Carinthia and Tyrol, was travelling from her seat near Meran to Innsbruck for her wedding with the ten-year old Prince Johann of Bohemia. [..]

Still and serious she sat, in ceremonial pomp. Her bodice was so tight that she had had to be laced into it; her sleeves of heavy green satin, in the very extreme of fashion, fell to her feet ; she wore one of the new jeweled hair-nets which an express courier had had to bring from Flanders, where they had recently appeared. A heavy necklace sparkled on her bosom, and large rings on her fingers. So she sat, serious and perspiring, weighed down with magnificence, between the peevish, grumbling women.

She looked older than her twelve years. Her thick-set body with its short limbs supported a massive misshapen head. The forehead, indeed, was clear and candid, the eyes quick and shrewd, penetrating and sagacious ; but below the small flat nose an ape-like mouth thrust forward its enormous jaws and pendulous underlip. Her copper colored hair was coarse, wiry and dull, her skin patchy and of a dull greyish pallor.”

That is how the author Lion Feuchtwanger described Margarete, the countess of Tirol who is better known as Margarete Maultasch, the ugly duchess. This historic novel that became a huge bestseller in the 1920s describes how a bright and ambitious, but monstrously ugly woman is crushed by society’s habit to judge the inside of a person by its appearance.

I still have a copy of this book from the 1980s when I first read it, and on its cover is the same image I used for this episode’s artwork. The picture was painted by Quentin Matsys in 1513 and according to the National Gallery’s catalogue is called a Grotesque Old Woman.

It is not a portrait of Margarete Maultasch who had died 150 years earlier. The identification of the sitter as Margarete Maultasch goes back the idea of a postcard seller in Meran in the 1920s. Matsys picture also made its way into the depiction of the Duchess in Alice in Wonderland.

But it is all hokum. Chroniclers who knew Margarete personally, like Johann von Viktring either do not mention her appearance at all, or call her beautiful, if not extremely beautiful. So, as much as I love Lion Feuchtwanger’s novel, which btw. is available in an English translation, it’s premise is simply false.

The truth is much more interesting. Her actions to defend her inherited county of Tyrol were the changes that tilted the complex equilibrium between the Habsburgs, the Wittelsbachs and the House of Luxemburg out of kilter with unpredictable, violent results.

So, let’s find out why and how and what…

But before we start a quick reminder that the History of the Germans is still advertising free thanks to the generosity of our patrons. And you can become a patron too by signing up on patreon.com/historyofthegermans. And special thanks to Carsten D., Karen H., Matias G., Matthew G., Douglas S. and Duane S. who have already signed up.

Last week we talked about how Ludwig the Bavarian extracted the Holy Roman Empire from the overlordship of the papacy and made the election by the Prince Electors the constituent event that elevated an individual to the throne. Many things had to come together to make that happen, namely a misguided papal policy that created rifts inside the church and a group of innovative thinkers including William of Ockham and Marsilius of Padua who could provide the intellectual underpinnings of this new construct of the secular state.

But another component was needed to bring about the Kurverein zu Rhens, and that was the masterful diplomacy of Ludwig and his advisors that kept the fragile domestic politics stable.

Domestic politics in the empire were so fragile because power was split amongst three roughly equal-sized blocks. It was a three body problem, a conundrum that had baffled mathematicians since Newton and laymen since the release of the recent Netflix series. Calculating gravitational forces between two objects is apparently quite straightforward, but once you add a third one, even minor changes in the conditions drive dramatic, often violent outcomes. The competition between the Habsburgs, the Wittelsbachs and the Luxemburgers was a three-body problem.

It was a three-body problem Ludwig of Bavaria had kept in balance for 8 long years until in 1330 the 12-year old Margarete, princess of Tyrol and Carinthia, called the Maultasch married Johann-Heinrich of Luxemburg, the younger son of king John of Bohemia.

Margarete was the only surviving child of Henry duke of Carinthia. We have met Henry of Carinthia several times before, but let me just recap. Henry had inherited the county of Tyrol from his father. Carinthia you may remember had been taken by king Rudolf of Habsburg from king Ottokar of Bohemia alongside Austria and Styria. Rudolf wanted to give Carinthia to his sons, as he had done with Austria and Styria, but faced strong opposition from the princes, so he gave it to his brother-in-law, Henry the count of Tyrol who thereby became Henry of Carinthia.

Henry remained a close ally of the Habsburgs until king Wenceslaus III of Bohemia was murdered in 1306. Henry happened to be the right man in the right place, i.e., he happened to be in Prague at the time and was married to Wenceslaus III’s sister. He was made king of Bohemia, which he remained for about 3 months before the Habsburgs moved on Prague, threw Henry out and elected one of their own as king of Bohemia. This Habsburg was called king porridge by the Czechs on account of his sensitive stomach, a stomach that put an end to his reign after another couple of months, making Henry king again. This time he lasted 3 years, though that was mostly on paper. Henry was a pretty ineffective ruler, a bit sloppy and just a bit of a pushover. By 1310 the Bohemians had enough of Henry of Carinthia and petitioned emperor Henry VII to give them a new king, at which point Henry VII’s son king John of Bohemia took over.

The next couple of years things quietened down for Henry of Carinthia until 1314 when he was dug up as “king of Bohemia” to provide a vote for Frederick the Handsome. That alliance did not last long and Henry of Carinthia did what many other territorial princes did during the civil war, playing one side against the other two and -most importantly- avoiding getting sucked into the conflict.

In the 1320s he got closer to the Luxemburgs, and specifically hoped to marry the famously gorgeous sister of john of Bohemia, Marie. But, in defiance of tradition and etiquette, Marie aged 16 outright refused  to marry the duke of Carinthia who was not only older than her grandfather but had seriously got out of shape. After Marie’s refusal John offered him one of his nieces, adding in some cash to sweeten the deal, but that bride went to another, more promising lord. Things kept being stretched out until 1327 when Henry finally married Beatrice of Savoy, another distant relative of John of Bohemia. By then Henry was 62 and, as it turned out, no longer able to produce an heir. And with that Margarete became one of the most desirable heiresses of her day.

Henry of Carinthia’s lands were of enormous strategic importance. Tyrol and Carinthia controlled many of the Alpine passes, most importantly the Brenner pass, the by far the quickest and most comfortable route across the Alps, a crucial consideration for emperor Ludwig who needed to support the imperial vicars in Lombardy. Tyrol and Carinthia was of even more importance to the Habsburgs since their lands were still divided between Austria in the east and their Alsatian and Swiss domains in the west. If they could get hold of Tyrol and Carinthia, they could connect their currently still disparate land holdings into one contiguous territory. The Luxemburgs had no natural interest in Tyrol but hat did not mean they did not want it.

Tyrol was by no means the only territory the three powers coveted and clashed over. When emperor Ludwig granted Brandenburg to his son shortly after the battle of Mühldorf, the Luxemburgs were so irritated, they ended their long standing support for Ludwig’s kingship, forcing him into the alliance with the Habsburgs that resulted in Frederick the Handsome becoming co-king. That meant that again it was 2 against one, Wittelsbach and Habsburg against Luxemburg.

All parties knew that outright war was expensive and in the end, unwinnable. And it was also unnecessary as long as there were so many principalities in the empire whose current princely families may die out. So the three parties came to a tacit understanding that each should be left alone to pursue their expansion projects and that Ludwig would basically sign off on whatever the other two could gain. The only one who had to show restraint was Ludwig himself who had already picked up Brandenburg.

The biggest winners of this policy were the Luxemburgs. During the 1330s John of Bohemia expanded into Silesia, added to the county of Luxemburg and even managed to bring the duke of Lower Bavaria, Ludwig’s cousin and former godchild under his control. Meanwhile John’s uncle, the archbishop Balduin of Trier became archbishop of Mainz as well as bishop of Worms and Speyer.

This expansion of Luxemburg power was making Ludwig uncomfortable. And the Habsburgs felt seriously left behind. None of their schemes had worked out so far.

Into this already tense situation dropped the announcement that young Margaret was to marry the son of the king John of Bohemia. Which meant that if Henry of Carinthia died without a male heir, Luxemburg would gain control of another strategically important asset. And that prospect became increasingly likely as Henry of Carinthia’s health deteriorated and his marriage remained childless,

Ludwig sat down with the new head of the House of Luxemburg, duke Albrecht the Lame and they concluded a secret pact. Upon the death of Henry of Carinthia the emperor will declare the two fiefs of Carinthia and Tyrol to be forfeit and would then enfeoff Carinthia and southern Tyrol to the Habsburgs and the rest to himself.

Both parties were well aware that this meant the war that they had tried to avoid for so long would finally happen. Whether they gave any thought to Margarete and her feelings on the matter is unknown and also extremely unlikely.

Henry of Carinthia died in 1335.

Margarete is 17 at that point and her husband, Johann-Heinrich of Luxemburg just 13. The two children sent messages to all and sundry, informing them of the death of Henry of Carinthia and asked for recognition as the new duke and duchess of Carinthia and Tyrol. When they got little to no response, they got nervous. Something was not right.

They sent urgent messages to king John of Bohemia, asking him to come and protect them. The king responded that he would love to come, but unfortunately he was in Paris and had been injured during one of these hundreds of tournaments he took part in. And this was no trifle, it was the injury that would ultimately cause him to go blind.

In their desperation the young couple sent their advisor who also happened to be the main chronicler, Johann von Viktring to Vienna to ask for help from – guess who – the dukes of Habsburg. Viktring found Duke Albrecht the Lame somewhat evasive and clearly a bit embarrassed by his presence.

Soon thereafter the emperor Ludwig arrived in nearby Linz. Viktring went to see him and asked him for help on behalf of the young ducal couple. Ludwig wasn’t as cagey as his allies and laid it out to Viktring in no uncertain terms. Carinthia was going to Habsburg and the Tyrol would be divided up, the two kids would be given a nice pension and should please quietly exit stage left.

Next the court proceeded to an open field, the imperial  standard was raised and Ludwig formally enfeoffed the dukes Albrecht and Otto of Habsburg with the duchy of Carinthia and the southern part of the county of Tyrol. Meanwhile the oldest son of John of Bohemia, Charles and some other Luxemburg allies had also arrived in Linz and realized what had happened. They called the Habsburgs scammers, cheaters and swindler, but absent an army ready to strike, there was nothing to do. Charles of Bohemia and his allies left, swearing revenge. The war was on.

There is a brilliant story that Johann von Viktring tells us about the way 14th century politicians thought. Remember, he is Margarete’s envoy representing the legal heirs of Henry of Carinthia who have just been ripped off by the Habsburgs and the emperor. Still, instead of shouting obscenities and leaving with the Luxemburg party, Viktring goes before the Habsburg dukes and begs them to treat him and his monastery kindly, meaning leaving him in post and with all his profitable sinecures. They said, sure, if you tell us a bit about how the duchy is run, who is who, what to be carful about and how to organize the administration. To the latter he responded that once upon a time the emperor Tiberius had been asked why he left all these corrupt officials in post. And Tiberius is supposed to have answered that there was once a soldier who had received a wound that refused to heal and was covered in bloodsucking insects. When a caring soul saw that and chased the flies away, the injured soldier got angry.  Why did you do that. This is only going to make it worse. You have now chased away the flies that had already become fat from sucking my blood. Now you have opened the wound for new hungry flies who will suck out even more blood.

The moral of the story, better to leave the current parasites, including himself, in place.

In the weeks that followed, Habsburg troops occupied Carinthia experiencing very little resistance. However, in Tyrol, the local lords rallied around Margarete and her husband and refused the Habsburg and Wittelsbach troops entry.  That might possibly have been due to the oath of loyalty they had sworn to Margarete’s father, but it is more likely that it was because they believed that it would be easier to enrich themselves in an administration run by minors than in one run by the competent Habsburg dukes, who may not believe the story about the flies.

And their resistance frustrated the Habsburg invasion. Tyrol straddles both sides of the Alps and is a country of deep valleys, ravines and craggy summits, of castles built into the sides of soaring mountains, a place a comparatively small but determined force could easily defend against even large invading armies.

Whilst the Tyrol held out against the Habsburg attack, king John of Bohemia raised an army to go after the Habsburgs in their homeland of Austria. At their first encounter he achieved a significant victory when duke Otto of Habsburg, called the Merry fled the battlefield before even the first arrow had been shot. The Habsburg army watched with complete confusion that their commander was making for Vienna and followed him at pace. At which point John of Bohemia should have gone after them, but for some inexplicable reason did not. The war continued into next year, this time Ludwig himself took the field alongside the Habsburgs. It nearly came to a battle near Landau, but this time John ran away. After that the king of Bohemia, as so often, became distracted by other chivalric adventures, more exciting than a long and arduous campaign taking one castle or town after another. John of Bohemia made a deal with the Habsburgs. Not a great one I must say. All he got was that the Habsburgs would pay his expenses and let the young couple to keep Tyrol, but they would retain Carinthia. Ausser Spesen nix gewesen as the Germans would say.

Margarete was incensed about her father-in-law’s betrayal. She gathered her boy husband and her senior lords and vowed never to give up Carinthia. And then added a few choice words about her useless guardian and protector. As if he cared.

Margarete was still an adolescent, but at that time people grew up quickly. Though she had managed to defend Tyrol with the help of her nobles, she had lost Carinthia, effectively more than halving the territory she should have inherited. And she also realized that her alliance with the House of Luxemburg wasn’t worth much. If the Habsburgs found a way into Tyrol, the chances were slim that the great chivalric knight John of Bohemia would come to her rescue.

And the probability that the Habsburgs would find a way to break the resistance of her vassals was increasing by the late 1330s thanks to the erratic behavior of her young husband. Johann Heinrich of Luxemburg was clashing with the local aristocracy, razing one nobleman’s castle to the ground for alleged cowardice in the defense of Carinthia. As the nobles got restless he began fearing conspiracies everywhere. He did uncover what he believed was such a conspiracy and he had the ringleaders beheaded and their lands confiscated.

Margarete needed a new supporter if she wanted to defend her lands against the Habsburgs. And using the process of elimination, that defender had to be emperor Ludwig IV, the Bavarian.

Ludwig’s stature had strengthened since his return from Italy. His thoughtful policies that broadly maintained peace in the empire, his support for the cities that increased prosperity and an unexpected gain of Lower Bavaria after the death of its last duke had maybe not completely outweighed his excommunication, but made him the recognized, legitimate ruler of the Holy Roman Empire. It was thanks to this general esteem and the perception that he wasn’t unduly greedy for land and titles that had allowed him to bring the prince electors and many of the imperial princes to sign the declaration of Rhens.

Ludwig clearly had the power to defend her, but there were a few problems with the plan. First and foremost the fact that she was married to Johann-Heinrich of Luxemburg. An alliance with Wittelsbach would require some form of marriage agreement that would provide a Wittelsbach the opportunity to ultimately inherit the Tyrol.  But Margarete had no daughter to marry off. Nor was thee much hope for offspring given the couple now despised each other. So the person who had to marry was Margarete herself. Which means she needed to be divorced first.

Divorce in the Middle Ages was possible for two reasons and two reasons only, inability to procreate, namely the husbands impotence, or consanguinity, i.e., the couple being too closely related.

So Margarete went for option one and began to complain loudly that her husband was unable or unwilling to share her bed. As for option two, being too closely related, well, that applied to literally every member of the princely houses in europe. Whether or not that led to the annulment of a marriage was entirely in the hand of the church, which in the case of Margarete meant in the hands of the pope.

Problem was that the chances of the pope granting an annulment or Margaret’s marriage to the son of the pope’s key ally in the empire in order to marry the son of an excommunicated emperor who denied the authority of the vicar of Christ was precisely 0.000000%. Still, if Margarete lets thing run as they currently were going, she would lose Tyrol to the Habsburgs. It was only a question of time.

So she decided to take it one step at a time. And the most important step was to get rid of Johann Heinrich and his murderous paranoia.  In 1341 the young duke had been out hunting near Schloss Tirol. When he returned home, he found the gates of castle closed. Angry, but not particularly concerned, did he ride to the next castle. Again, nobody opened the gate. For the next several days, the duke of Carinthia and count of Tyrol rode from castle to castle, from city to city, but nobody would let him in. Finally, he left the county and sought refuge with the patriarch of Aquilea.

That removed the imminent risk of  loss of Tyrol, but Margarete still needed the protection of the emperor, which meant she needed to marry the emperor’s son, Ludwig, the Margrave of Brandenburg.

Margarete asked the pope for an annulment on the grounds of impotence and consanguinity. The process started, but then pope Benedict died. A successor was found quite quickly, Clement VI, but he had little time for the petition from the countess of Tyrol, assuming he had any interest in support it in the first place, which he did not have.

Time was rapidly running out.

The emperor Ludwig travelled to Tyrol in 1342 together with his son. He brought with him three bishops who had been prepared to declare Margaret divorced. But one fell down a ravine on the journey and the other two got scared and refused to grant the divorce.

Plan B was to go back to the Franciscan intellectuals. Marsilius of Padua prepared a document whereby Ludwig granted Margaret her divorce declaring that the pope had no business granting divorces, this, Marsilius concluded, was the right of the emperor. That went to far, even for Ludwig IV. He went with a proposal of William of Ockham who stated that in special situations when the interest of the state demanded it, the emperor was able to grant divorces, and that this was one such case.

And so on Shrove Tuesday 1342 emperor Ludwig IV granted the first civil divorce in the empire and Margarete, countess of Tyrol married Ludwig, Margrave of Brandenburg.

This was a scandal of truly epic proportions. Whilst public opinion in Germany could buy into the theories about the secular state and the independence of the empire from the papacy, the idea that the emperor could override “till death us do part”, that was a step too far. And Ludwig had not done it for some lofty ambition the whole empire would share in, but solely for his dynastic benefit.

That is when the three-body problem raised its ugly head. In a system of three roughly equal powers, small changes in the conditions could elicit violent reactions. And they did.

Margaret’s divorce pushed the new pope, Clement VI over the edge. Clement VI was already fed up with the unrepentant excommunicate in Munich who kept sending negotiators but never moved an inch on his positions. Sometimes he had made proposals that included his resignation but always in such a way that it remained unacceptable to the papacy. This civil divorce thing was the last straw.

Equally the Luxemburgs were irate about the treatment of Johann-Heinrich. Even archbishop Balduin of trier who had joined the emperor at the Kurverein zu Rhens and had developed a good working relationship with him, was turned off. The Habsburgs, fearing, quite rightly that if Margarete and her new husband would have offspring they might never get hold of the Tyrol and hence would never be able to link up their territories. Even the princes who normally took only moderate interest in imperial affairs, the dukes of Saxony, of Brunswick, the counts of Holstein and the dukes of Mecklenburg kept a weary eye on their sovereign.

Ludwig doubled down and when his brother-in-law the count of Holland and Hennegau died, he incorporated that county into his possessions as well.

That last move pushed the princes over the edge. They accepted Pope Clement VI call on the Prince Electors to choose a new King of the Romans. Headed by a 20-year old prelate that pope Clement VI had just placed on the seat of the archbishopric of Mainz despite its current postholder still being alive plus some serious bribes paid to the duke of saxony and the archbishop of Cologne allowed the two Luxemburg electors, Balduin of Trier and John of Bohemia to elect John’s oldest son, Charles, margrave of Moravia as king. Charles the fourth emperor carrying the name of the great Charlemagne would become a towering figure in the history of the Holy Roman Empire.

But for the moment he was just an anti king against an emperor who had ruled more or less successfully for 32 years. Sure Ludwig had lost a lot of sympathies, but he was by no means an easy target. Charles IV and his allies decided that instead of open warfare, the best course of action was to simply wait and let nature takes its course. The emperor was 64 years old, how much longer was he going to hold on?

One campaign did Charles undertake though, not against Ludwig himself, but against Margarete in Tyrol. Margarete’s new husband, Ludwig the margrave of Brandenburg was away in Prussia. The bishops of Trient and Bozen and some of the nobles had taken against the Wittelsbach regime and had called on Charles to come down. And he did. The forces of the bishops quickly rolled up castles and towns until they reached Schloss Tirol, the great fortress above the city of Meran, the key to the county. Margarete’s advisors suggested for her to either flee or submit to the powerful force led by the eminently competent Charles. But she refused. For several weeks did her troops hold out in Schloss Tirol until Ludwig of Brandenburg arrived with a strong army and relieved his wife. Tyrol was again saved from the Luxemburgs.

But the emperor was not. On October, 11 1347 the aging but still active emperor died from a stroke during a bear hunt outside Munich.

I must admit that before is tarted this podcast I knew next to nothing about Ludwig IV, the Bavarian but the more I read about him, the more fascinating I found him. A political and military genius who, if he had been in charge of a large and consolidated kingdom like England and France would surely have been remembered in books, plays and statues. A man who despite his modest education embraced some of the most innovative ideas of his time and sheltered those who developed them.

We are not completely rid of him though, since next time we will have a look at economic developments during Ludwig’s reign, in particular the rise of the cities, specifically the city of Nurnberg.

But before we do that, we need to bring the story of Margarete Maultasch to its end.

In the years that followed, nobody challenged Margarete and Ludwig’s ownership of Tyrol.  Margarete had three children, two daughters and a son. The girls died in the black death, but her son Meinhard grew up to adulthood. Ludwig of Brandenburg died in 1361 and Meinhard succeeded him. But Margarete’s son lived only for a further 2 years. Once Meinhard had gone and Margaret now beyond child-bearing age, it was clear that the Tyrol had to go to someone else. In this contest it was the house of Habsburg that won. Margaret named Rudolf of Habsburg, son of Albrecht the Lame as her heir. Exhausted by a long life of strife, she retired to Vienna where she died in 1369. The Tyrol remained part of Austria until 1919 when the part south of the Brenner pass was annexed by Italy.

That leaves one last question, why did people believe Margarete was so famously ugly. In part this seem to have come from the nickname, Maultasch, which means something like mouth bag. This could be a reference to a physical deformity, but it was also used as a term for promiscuous women. And the latter explanation is more probable.

The church, which regarded her as a bigamist had issued propaganda branding her a harlot, unable to contain her urges. That she had married Ludwig to satisfy her unnatural desires something Johann-Heinrich was unwilling to do. These stories than mushroomed into ever more outlandish tales of unsatiable sexual appetites that rival those told about Messalina and Theodora. The twist of the story was however the idea that she was also monstrously ugly, something that – as I said before – we have no contemporary evidence for, specifically not from people who had known her personally. It was most likely a combination of her nickname Maultasch and the already brutal propaganda that created this image. And when Matsys painting of an extremely ugly person came up for auction at Christies in 1920, a smart postcard seller in Meran made copies and sold it as portraits of Margarete Maultasch. That is where Lion Feuchtwanger picked up the story to create his tale of the fight between the clever, well meaning but ugly Margarete Maultasch and the beautiful but vacuous and destructive Agnes of Flavon. I love the book for all the evocative scenes from the 14th century, but I afraid the whole of its basic premise is fictional.

Margarete was just another one of these women whose political ambitions ran up against the social standards of the time. And since her enemies could not break her militarily and politically, they broke her memory.

So, as I said, we are still not yet done with the live and times of emperor Ludwig IV, the Bavarian. Next time we will talk about the growth of the great German trading cities, in particular about Nuremberg. And then we probably should have an episode about the blind king John of Bohemia who has been moving in and out of focus not just for these least five episodes, but also featured in season 7 on the Teutonic Knights. And as a sort of a brit I need to talk about the coat of arms the motto of the prince of Wales at some point, and that time will have to be soon.

I am however under a bit of time pressure since I will be sailing my boat over to the Baltic for the summer. That means I will have to put the podcast on a bi-weekly schedule. I hope you do not mind too much and will see you next time.

featuring Pope John XXII and William of Ockham

This week we look at the central intellectual debate of the 14th century, did Jesus own property? If yes, then it was right and proper that the church owned land, privileges, entire counties and duchies, yes that the pope was not just the spiritual but also the secular ruler of all of Christianity. And if not, then the pope as a successor to the apostles should rescind all worldly possessions and all political power. The follow-on question from there was even more hair raising: if indeed power does not come from the grace of god as determined by the Holy church, then where does it come from. One thinker, Marsilius of Padua goes as far as  stating the obvious, power comes from election by the people…

This is what pope John XXII, Michael of Cesena, William of Ockham and the cast of Umberto Eco’s the Name of  the Rose discuss. But there was also a politician, Ludwig IV, elected emperor who took these ideas – and put them into actions….let’s find out just how radical this ruler they call “the Bavarian” really was.

TRANSCRIPT

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 151 – The Kurverein zu Rhens – featuring William of Ockham, also episode 14 of season 8 # From the Interregnum to the Golden Bull, 1250-1356.

This week we look at the central intellectual debate of the 14th century, did Jesus own property? If yes, then it was right and proper that the church owned land, privileges, entire counties and duchies, yes that the pope was not just the spiritual but also the secular ruler of all of Christianity. And if not, then the pope as a successor to the apostles should rescind all worldly possessions and all political power. The follow-on question from there was even more hair raising: if indeed power does not come from the grace of god as determined by the Holy church, then where does it come from. One thinker, Marsilius of Padua goes as far as  stating the obvious, power comes from election by the people…

This is what pope John XXII, Michael of Cesena, William of Ockham and the cast of Umberto Eco’s the Name of  the Rose discuss. But there was also a politician, Ludwig IV, elected emperor who took these ideas – and put them into actions….let’s find out just how radical this ruler they call “the Bavarian” really was.

But before we start let me remind you that the history of the Germans is advertising free, and with good reason. Regular reminders to use online mental health services or invest in crypto currencies is the #1 irritation for many listeners and causes moral dilemmas for many podcasters. Being advertising free means this show is entirely dependent upon people sustaining it financially, either through one-time donations on historyofthegermans.com/support or as ongoing patreon sponsors on patreon.com/historyofthegermans. And special thanks to Michael K., Linda A., Robert B., Kevin Scott M., Chris Gesell, Tristan Benzing and Carsten D. who have already signed up. BTW., if you want your full name read out, please send me a message on patreon so I can make sure I get this right.

And with that, back to the show.

When we left the king of the Romans and emperor elect Ludwig IV last week, he had just won the battle of Mühldorf against his cousin and rival Frederick the Handsome from the house of Habsburg. He was now the uncontested ruler of the Holy Roman Empire, or at least he should be.

We have been here so many times that if you now say “to Rome, to Rome”, that would not give you the 10 points to Griffindor you were hoping for. Obviously, a coronation journey had to be the next step. And, again, same procedure as last time, Ludwig sought a papal invitation to be crowned above the grave of St. Peter.

Which gets us to the first of the key protagonists of this episode, the man who was to grant this invitation, the new pope, John XXII.

Pope John XXII was born Jacques Duèze in the city of Cahors, the son of a long distance merchant and banker. He studied law in Montpellier and became a lecturer in canon law and an advisor to the bishop of Toulouse. His career took quite some time to get going properly. He was well into his fifties before he caught the eye of king Charles II of Naples who made him his chancellor. In 1310 he became bishop of Avignon, part of the county of Provence which in turn was owned by his sponsor the king of Naples and at the time pretty much a provincial backwater.

His career got a further boost when the papal court appeared on his home turf, i.e., when pope Clement V set up shop in his city, the city of Avignon. In 1312 he was elevated to become a cardinal, just in time to get involved in the election of Clement’s successor when the old pope died in 1314.

By 1314 the composition of the college of cardinals looked quite unfamiliar. There were only 7 Italian cardinals left, who were broken down into various factions. The Italians had to contend with  10 gascons, most of them relatives of the excessively nepotistic Clement V and sympathetic to their duke, who happened to be king Edward II of England. Then there were a further 6 French cardinals supportive of the Capetian kings of France.

All this already made electing a new pope hard, but things got even more difficult when the heirs of king Philip the Fair died in quick succession, one of them a newborn who survived just four days.  

The first conclave in Carpentras ended when a mob of Gascons attacked their fellow cardinals shouting, “death to the Italians” and “we want a pope”. The Italian cardinals ran for their lives and hid, whilst the nephew of pope Clement V raided the papal treasury and then disappeared. For 2 years there was no head to the church, no administration, just cardinals wandering around in southern France avoiding each other.

Finally, the younger son of Philipp the Fair had enough, rounded the cardinals up and locked them into a monastery in Lyon and starved them until they had selected a new pope. And that pope was Jacques Duèze, son of a moneylender from Cahors. The reason he was chosen had nothing to do with his considerable talents as a lawyer, but was purely a function of his advanced age, he was over seventy and his sickly appearance. Jacques took the papal name John XXII and would reign as pope for another 18 years, far longer than anyone had expected.

John XXII was a gifted administrator who massively expanded the papal government. He brought the church organizations across europe under tight central control and restored papal finances. Most of these funds were then ploughed back into the papal organization or were used to pay alms. John XXII personally lived a frugal lifestyle, though when he needed to represent the power of the papacy he did. At the wedding of his great niece he threw a banquet where guests consumed 9 oxen, 55 sheep, 8 pigs, 200 capons, 690 chickens, 580 partridges and lots more foodstuff. He established a working relationship with the French king that granted him significantly more independence than his predecessor Clement V had enjoyed.

That would net, net be maybe not a perfect but a pretty decent papacy. It definitely beats that of Clement V which included leaving Rome, becoming a plaything of the French king and suppressing, torturing and burning the Templars. Still, John XXII left such a black mark on the church, it would take until 1958 before a pope dared to again take the name John, the most common of papal names ever. In contrast, there were 9 more Clements after the Clement V.

What was it that pope John XXII did that made him so despised? Those of you who have read the Name of the Rose may remember the passage where the character William of Baskerville said about John XXII: “You must realize that for centuries a greedier man has never ascended the papal throne. The whore of Babylon against whom our Ubertino used to fulminate, the corrupt popes described by the poets of your country, like that Alighieri, were meek lambs and sober compared to John. He is a thieving magpie, a Jewish usurer; in Avignon there is more trafficking than in Florence!” end quote.

The reason John XXII ended up as “he who shall not be named” of the church was not just for allowing the monetary excesses of his cardinals, bishops and abbots to run out of control, but because he tried to justify their behaviour on legal and theological grounds. Basically before John XXII the church in general and the popes in particular were at least embarrassed about the fact that they were amassing vast fortunes for themselves and their families by exploiting the faithful. John XXII took the view that there was no need to be embarrassed since Jesus and the apostles owned property and so could the church. From there it is only a short hop to pope Leo X famous quote: “God gave us the papacy, now let us enjoy it”, which btw he did not thanks to the actions of a professor of bible studies at the university of Wittenberg called M. Luther.

Now this debate about whether the church and the pope should be poor had been going on for centuries. Wave after wave of reformers had demanded that priests, bishops and popes should live by the example of the apostles, meaning living a modest life without material possessions and dedicated to prayer. Most of these reformers ended up being condemned as heretics but those very few who did not became doctors of the church or founders of religious orders. Which one it was, burnt at the stake or sainthood was pretty much pot luck given the programs were at least initially quite similar.

Amongst those reformers who were co-opted by the church and were made saints, nobody embraced the idea of the poverty of the church as stringently as St. Francis. He laid it down in the rule of the Franciscans  No Franciscan friar was to own anything, nor would the order itself hold property. Franciscan friars were allowed just one poor habit with a hood and a second one without a hood if they needed it. No shoes unless strictly necessary, no books, just a breviary. Certainly no coins or monies either directly or indirectly. And so on and so, St. Francis was pretty clear, Franciscans were supposed not to own anything more than the clothes on their backs, nothing at all.  

But that ideal rapidly collided with reality. Rich donors believed that the prayers of these holy men would be an effective way to speed up the journey through the potentially millions of years of waiting in purgatory. Very soon the Franciscan were receiving gifts of lands and treasure from devout Christian and great Franciscan monasteries rose up all across europe, starting with the Sacro Convento in Assisi, that miracle of 13th and 14th century art. And now the question arose, how can the Franciscans have these monasteries when the whole order was banned from owning anything, except for their two habits.

To square this circle the church had devised the concept that all donations made to the Franciscans were automatically passed on to the pope who would then allow the Franciscans to use these assets on the basis of a legal concept called usufruct, basically a form of unpaid lease.

And this legal construct of the usufruct was the lever John XXII used to break the Franciscan doctrine of the poverty of Christ. Under roman and still modern law, usufruct gives a person the right to enjoy the use and advantages of another’s property, short of the destruction or waste of its substance. John XXII argued that if for example a Franciscan received a loaf of bread from a parishioner and ate it, this could not be a form of usufruct since by eating it, he destroyed the loaf. If he held the bread without owning it, eating the loaf would be theft or willful destruction of property. The only way out of that conundrum was for the Franciscan to accept ownership of the donations they received, which meant the church as a whole was allowed to own things and that in turn meant that all the excessive display of wealth going on in Avignon was therefore fine.

Did I say that John XXII was an accomplished canon lawyer? Lawyers, and I can say that being one myself, come in three flavors, incompetent, clever or good. A good lawyer is someone who understands the spirit of the law and uses this to construct an equitable solution.  A clever lawyer is one who uses the wording of the law to bend the spirit of the law to his benefit.

John XXII wasn’t a good lawyer, he was a clever lawyer. And that is why he took a concept from the law of property conveyancing to make a point about the moral standards of a religious institution. Perfectly convincing when one looks at the words on the page, complete nonsense if you look at the moral choices involved.  

The Franciscans, led by their minister general, Michael of Cesena refused to breach the rule of St. Francis and end up in hell just in order to comply with the civil code. They wanted to live the life of the apostles as they saw it, caring for the sick and poor, praying and renouncing all worldly possessions. And if that made the pope and his filthy rich cardinals look bad, so be it.

This argument began as an exchange of learned treatises between the pope and the Franciscans before getting increasingly heated. And it drew in more and more of the medieval scholars, including the great English thinker, William of Ockham of razor’s fame. William was asked by Michael of Cesena to review the various statements made by pope John XXII about the subject. William of Ockham concluded the following (quote): “a great many things that were heretical, erroneous, silly, ridiculous, fantastic, insane, and defamatory, contrary and likewise plainly adverse to orthodox faith, good morals, natural reason, certain experience, and fraternal charity.” End quote. So much for balance. These accusations made the pope a heretic, and a heretic was automatically no longer pope. That was a pretty bold move by William and Michael, followed by the somewhat less bold move of running away from Avignon immediately after posting the report to the papal palace.

The Franciscan leadership, including Michael of Cesena and William of Ockham were now, in 1327, on the run and needed a protector, and they met this protector in Pisa, and that protector was none other than our friend, the survivor of monkey abductions and chivalric battles, Ludwig IV, called the Bavarian.

Ludwig took these learned and holy men in with great joy, because he too had a run-in with pope John XXII.

The problem had been that pope John XXII was not only intensely relaxed about bishops, abbots,  cardinals and papal nephews getting filthy rich, he also believed that Boniface VIII had been right when he had declared that quote: “it is absolutely necessary for salvation that every human creature be subject to the Roman Pontiff”. And specifically that nobody could be ruler of the Holy Roman Empire who had not been approved by the pope.

I will not go into the question whether previous emperors have or have not sought explicit approval for their elections from the pope. Answering that requires Latin language skills and patience I simply do not possess. The important point is that John XXII believed it was a requirement. And Ludwig did not. Ludwig had just fought for eight long years with his cousins, stretched his resources to breaking point to win the crown. He pointed at the dead and wounded at Mühldorf and asked, on what basis am I not the ruler of the Holy Roman Empire.

Ludwig and John XXII fell out properly over Northern Italy, and specifically Milan. John XXII believed that in the absence of papal approval of a King of the Romans, the throne was vacant. And during this vacancy it fell to the pope to keep order and specifically appoint the imperial vicars. So he relieved the Visconti of Milan, the Della Scala of Verona and the Este of Ferrara from their position as imperial vicars in Northern Italy that they had held since Henry VII’s fateful journey. When the city lords refused to bow down, the pope placed Milan under interdict and put together a crusade against the Visconti, which however failed. The Visconti appealed to the now established Ludwig the Bavarian who confirmed them as imperial vicar.

At that point John XXII did what every self-respecting pope thwarted in his political ambitions did and excommunicated Ludwig of Bavaria for disobedience. The excommunication revived the hopes of the Habsburgs, specifically duke Leopold that they could still gain the throne after all. What further strengthened the Habsburg case was that Ludwig had angered his main ally, king John of Bohemia when he had made his son the new margrave of Brandenburg, a story we will talk more about next week.

Bottom line is that 2 years after his great success at Mühldorf, king Ludwig IV was again in trouble. There are two stories about how he resolved it, a nice, heroic and chivalric version and a more sober, analytical version.

The chivalric version goes as follows: While Ludwig’s rival for the crown, Frederick the Handsome was held in honorable captivity at Schloss Trausnitz, the two cousins who had grown up together renewed their friendship. Negotiating long into the night they agreed that Frederick would give up any claim on the imperial crown and would return some of the imperial lands he had seized. In exchange, he would not have to pay a ransom and was allowed to return home. Once back in Vienna he should obtain the support of his brothers and his main allies to this agreement. Should he fail to get these signatures, he was to return to his jail in Bavaria.

Frederick did go back to Vienna and tried to convince his brothers that the game was up. Leopold however saw things differently. He argued that Ludwig was excommunicated and hence any promise made to him could be broken. Moreover, they received letters from pope John XXII to that effect as well as financial support from the king of France to continue the war.

Still, Frederick, a man of his word, having failed in his mission, returned to captivity in Bavaria. Ludwig, deeply moved by his cousin’s  integrity, offered him what he always wanted, the crown. Ludwig and Frederick should rule jointly. If one were to go to Italy to become emperor, the other would keep things on an even keel back home in Germany and vice versa. Hearing that generous offer, the grateful Frederick embraced his cousin, became co-king and they remained firm friends until the Habsburg’s death.

The other, more constitutional perspective looks like that: This was the third time that the succession of the empire had to be decided by force of arms, Dürnkrut, Göllheim and now Mühldorf. This was not a sustainable model, in particular now when there were three roughly equal sized political blocks. And it was completely untenable if the pope in Avignon, which means the king of France, actually decided who rules or whether there was a ruler at all.

For the empire to survive, it had to go further down the road of becoming the collective responsibility of the princes instead of a traditional monarchy. This process had begun long ago with Barbarossa and his concept of being the capstone, the first amongst equals of the princes. By the 14th century the central authority had diminished so much and the power of the territorial lords consolidated so far, a command and control monarchy had become impossible. But nobody wanted for the empire to dissolve. The empire provided legitimacy and a level of coordination and legal framework that kept the overall system stable and the princes in charge of their territories.

So a period of experimentation followed that lasted through the 14th, 15th and 16th century, trying out various ways how the imperial princes could collaborate in the interest of the empire whilst still pursuing their individual interests. The joint rule of Ludwig and Frederick was such an experiment.

Though it was never repeated, it was a successful experiment. The joint rule reconciled two of the three great families and it reassured the other princes that Ludwig would not be able to seize any more lands and territories for himself or his family. And it gave a focal point for the rising anger at the papacy.

Pope John XXII’s claim that he had the ultimate authority over who would become emperor threatened the role of the Prince-Electors. The Prince electors saw themselves as the ultimate deciders, not as a some sort of pre-selection committee. This common interest in preserving their constitutional role took precedence over their territorial differences.

And another constituency shared the dislike of the Avignon pope and that was the German clergy. Pope John XXII had insisted that the selection of bishops and increasingly abbots and even lower clergy had to be the preserve of the pope, not the decision of the cathedral canons or monks. The reason for that was in part organizational, giving the pope more control over the quality of local church leaders. It also had a monetary element. Every time a new bishop or abbot was appointed by the pope, a third of the first year income was to be sent to Avignon, for lower clergy it was 100% of the income. That wasn’t new. John XXII’s new idea was to constantly shift bishops and abbots between positions. So the bishop of Basel becomes archbishop of Mainz, so a new bishop of Basel had to be found, well that post goes to the previous bishop of Lavant, meaning we need a new bishop of Lavanat, that one was previously abbot of Einsiedeln and so on and so on. Every time a post is filled, a chunk of the first year income is sent to Avignon.  

That was not only irritating for the post holder, but also for the people at his court. These incomes weren’t salaries, they were monies needed to fund the functioning of the bishopric or abbey, paying servants and granting special bonuses etc. All that went away, plus local clergy saw their careers taken over by foreign prelates.

These disaffected imperial princes and the German church founded a coalition strong enough to withstand the excommunication, even the interdict that in principle prevented the reading of mass across the whole empire. And the coalition was strong enough that Ludwig could dare to journey to Rome for his coronation without having to be concerned about coups back home.

In December 1326 he travelled to Trient and then to Milan, accompanied by just 200 knights. This was no longer an attempt to assert genuine political control over Northern Italy as Henry VII’s campaign had been. It was more of a visit to the imperial vicars who needed Ludwig to legitimize their rule. And he obliged most generously. He confirmed the Visconti of Milan, the della Scala of Verona and all the others and in exchange the Italians staged a lovely coronation as king of Italy for Ludwig and his new wife Margarete of Holland.

From there he proceeded to Pisa which resisted initially, but could be made to open its gates. By the way, this moment in the autumn of 1327 where the story of the Name of the Rose begins. In the spring of 1328 Ludwig reached Rome.

At which point the question is, what will he be doing there? He is still excommunicated. Pope John XXII has not agreed for him to be crowned emperor. He does not have any cardinals with him who could perform the ceremony as Henry VII had. So, who would be crowning him?

What happens next just shows how far and how radical Ludwig IV was. He did not even bother to go to St. Peters or dig up some malleable archbishop to place the crown on his head whilst gently poked by a spear. No, he accepted the imperial crown from the Senate and the People of Rome, the way the emperors of old had been elevated. The coronation was performed by the now superannuated Sciarra Colonna, the same man who had apprehended and allegedly slapped pope Boniface VIII with it bringing down the imperial papacy, a man so thoroughly antipapal as one could imagine. And he performed the ceremony in his role as the head of the Roman Senate. There was a mass afterwards, but that was purely decorative.

This bold act was to make visible that the empire was no longer beholden to the papacy. He, Ludwig had become emperor by the election of the Prince Electors and his coronation was a secular act, confirming what had already happened, not a religious event, constituting his position as ruler.

Now before you conclude that it was some German provincial baron who had come up with the concept of secular rule and the division between church and state almost exactly a 1000 years after the last pagan Roman emperor had breathed his last. That would be pushing it.

No, a lot of the intellectual underpinning of his rule and the idea of a secular emperor came from the court of intellectuals like William of Ockham and Michael of Cesena who had joined him after they had fled from Avignon. The most radical of those was a man called Marsilius of Padua who had been at Ludwig’s court since 1323. His main work the Defensor Pacis, the Defender of peace makes the case that all power comes from the people, that the people elect and depose the ruler and that the ruler’s purpose was to provide peace and justice. The church on the other hand had no right to temporal power, in fact Jesus had refused the offer of temporal power outright. He was the son of god after all, so power over all men was entirely at his disposal. Marsilius of Padua stated quote: “The elective principality or other office derives its authority from the election of the body having the right to elect, and not from the confirmation or approval of any other power”, and “The prince who rules by the authority of the “legislator” (aka the elector) has jurisdiction over the persons and possessions of every single mortal of every station, whether lay or clerical, and over every body of laymen or clergy”. (end quote)

That is the definition of the secular state carrying a monopoly of violence. This is written 200 years before Machiavelli and 500 years before Hobbes, Montesquieu and the French Revolution. And it wasn’t just something some weird professor had dreamed up in a remote corner of europe. No, this was doctrine at the heart of one of the most consequential rulers of the age.

So much for “Intellectuals in the Middle Ages only debated how many angels can fit on the head of a pin”.

I would have loved for Ludwig to leave it at this, pack up his gear and return to Germany, be consistent. But history is messy and never quite fits with theory. So Ludwig did not have the strength of his convictions to just rely on a secular coronation. A few days after his first coronation he became old school again and deposed pope John XXII for papal overreach and heresy. In his stead he elevated a radical Franciscan to become pope as antipope Nicolas V who crowned him with full regalia in St. Peter.

A bit irritating but what can we do.

Being crowned twice and spring with its usual risks of death and disease approaching, Ludwig packed up and went home. He reached Munich around Christmas 1330, by which time his antipope had already caved to John XXII.

For the next 8 years he focused on stabilising his regime, supporting the growth of trade and cities and passing laws.

As for his conflict with the papacy, things fell into a bit of a lull. Pope John XXII refused to lift the excommunication of the emperor and all of his supporters. The empire remained under interdict, meaning in principle no mass could be sung and no sacraments administered, which would be an epic catastrophe in the medieval perception of the world. But the German clergy largely ignored the ban coming from what they believed was a heretic pope and, as William of Ockham kept telling them, a heretic pope ceased to be pope the moment he became a heretic without any further constituent act being needed. So the German clergy continued saying mass and things kept running smoothly.

In fact John XXII in his later years, he lived all the way to 90, did indeed develop some unorthodox, possibly heretic views. Specifically he concluded that all souls, saints included, would end in purgatory and would only be brought before god on the day of judgement. When he came out with that, pretty much all the prelates in Avignon issued a collective groan. Irrespective of what the bible said, this notion would wipe out the value propositions of pilgrimages, crusades, relics, the reading of mass for the dead, donations to religious houses etc., etc., pp. everything the church of Avignon stood for.

The reason is obvious. The church had invented the concept of purgatory, a sort of waiting room for the souls before they would allowed to enter heaven. The amount of time one had to spend in purgatory depended on how sinful their individual life had been. And purgatory was quite uncomfortable. But there was a way to shorten this waiting time. The intercession of saints, in particular the virgin Mary could appease the gatekeepers and mean you get up to cloud 9 in a couple of weeks instead of millions of years. To gain that intercession was possible by doing good works, for instance donating funds to build a new church, decorate a chapel, give land to a religious house in exchange for mass being sung for the dead or going on crusade. That concept paid for quite a lot of medieval and renaissance art.

Now if John’s idea that even saints had to wait in purgatory with everyone else, all these donations were useless. What is the point of worshipping the big toe of St. Cuthbert if Saint Cuthbert is only a few places places ahead in the queue. John XXII’s great theological breakthrough was quickly dismissed and he admitted that he may have erred, something as we know isn’t possible for a pope to do.

John XXII died in 1334 and his successors took a more conciliatory approach towards the empire. But still, Ludwig was unable to get the excommunication and the interdict lifted. The pope kept insisting that he had the right to approve or reject imperial elections and Ludwig was unwilling to give in.

For Ludwig, this conundrum needed to be resolved and if the pope wasn’t willing to compromise, then the empire had to take a stance. Throughout the year 1338 the Prince-Electors, the bishops and abbots, the cities and the emperor himself wrote to the pope asserting that it was the right of the people, represented by the seven electors to choose the emperor and that “the one who is elected by the majority of the electors is the true king and emperor”.

In a meeting at Rhens on July 16th, 1338 the Prince Electors, minus King John of Bohemia came together and solemnly swore to defend their right to elect the king and emperor against all external interference, and to submit to the majority decisions of the college of electors. This agreement was then opened up to all other princes as well as vassals, Ministeriales and even the burghers of the cities.

Then they declared a law that the election automatically confers all the rights over the empire to the elected king without the need for any approbation, not even the need for a coronation.

This, the so-called Kurverein zu Rhens was the beginning of the constitution of the empire that will go through many more iterations and reforms until the end of the Reich in the 19th century. But the fundamental point that the elected monarch was automatically king and emperor was established. The pope could no longer withhold coronations or even make the elevation dependent on their approbation.

There will still be coronations in Aachen and journeys to Rome, but they were purely ceremonial, they do no longer effect a transfer of power. The long fight that began with Henry IV in the snow of Canossa and dominated the reigns of Frederick Barbarossa and Frederick II was over.

It is ironic that Ludwig IV is still known by his derogatory nickname “the Bavarian” given to him by pope John XXII. John’s moniker was meant to say that his legitimacy ended on the borders of Upper Bavaria, but in reality he shaped much of what we know as the Holy Roman Empire. As for the intellectuals who helped him develop and defend these political concepts, William of Ockham, Michael of Cesena and Marsilius of Padua, they stayed in Munich and died there and their graves are still in the city.

Next week we will try something new. We will still follow the life of Ludwig the Bavarian. But we will look at it through the eyes of someone else, a woman, called Margarete Maultasch, countess of Tirol, best known from Lion Feuchtwanger’s novel the ugly duchess. I hope you will join us again.

And just a final reminder that the history of the Germans is advertising free and that if you want to hear the sound of Bach’s Flute Sonata in E-flat major, performed and arranged by Michael Rondeau, rather than me espousing mattresses, sign up on patreon.com/historyofthegermans or on historyofthegermans.com/support.