Did Klaus Störtebecker even exist, and if so, did he matter?

In 1878 workmen building the Speicherstadt, the magnificent city of warehouses in the harbour of Hamburg made a gruesome discovery. In the mud of the Grasbrook, an island at the entrance of the medieval harbour of Hamburg emerged two piles of wood connected by a wooden bar. An ancient beacon guiding ships. What made it so special was what was nailed on to the bar, human skulls. Whoever these men were, they had been decapitated and their heads displayed as a warning. One of these skulls was quickly identified as that of Klaus Störtebecker, the notorious pirate.

The skulls were brought to the Museum für Hamburgische Geschichte, the Museum for the history of Hamburg. There they reconstructed the facial features of Klaus Störtebecker so that vistors can get a better picture of what Hamburg’s greatest nemesis looked like.

If you leave the museum and turn right you quickly get to Simon von Utrecht Strasse, named after the man who captured Störtebecker on his agile small cog, the Bunte Kuh, the painted Cow.

Störtebecker was brought to the Grasbrook where he and his 72 companions were beheaded on October 20, 1401. As his last wish, Störtebecker asked that all the men he could walk past after his head had fallen should be freed. That wish was granted, but when the headless pirate had passed 11 of his shipmates, one of the members of the city council tripped him up and in the end all of his men were killed, including those he had walked past.

Hundreds of books have been and will still be written about Störtebecker and Simon von Utrecht. Some of those I have devoured as a child and this is why it hurts so much to have to tell you – all a lot of nonsense. Störtebecker lived and robbed until 1413, 12 years after his execution, which is a long time for a headless corpse. And Simon von Utrecht was just a lad when he allegedly seized Hamburg’s greatest adversary.

The story may be a tall tale, but piracy and the Victual Brothers were real and they were a real threat to the Hanse, or at least I believe it was.

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 118 – Pirates

In 1878 workmen building the Speicherstadt, the magnificent city of warehouses in the harbour of Hamburg made a gruesome discovery. In the mud of the Grasbrook, an island at the entrance of the medieval harbour of Hamburg emerged two piles of wood connected by a wooden bar. An ancient beacon guiding ships. What made it so special was what was nailed on to the bar, human skulls. Whoever these men were, they had been decapitated and their heads displayed as a warning. One of these skulls was quickly identified as that of Klaus Störtebecker, the notorious pirate.

The skulls were brought to the Museum für Hamburgische Geschichte, the Museum for the history of Hamburg. There they reconstructed the facial features of Klaus Störtebecker so that vistors can get a better picture of what Hamburg’s greatest nemesis looked like.

If you leave the museum and turn right you quickly get to Simon von Utrecht Strasse, named after the man who captured Störtebecker on his agile small cog, the Bunte Kuh, the painted Cow.

Störtebecker was brought to the Grasbrook where he and his 72 companions were beheaded on October 20, 1401. As his last wish, Störtebecker asked that all the men he could walk past after his head had fallen should be freed. That wish was granted, but when the headless pirate had passed 11 of his shipmates, one of the members of the city council tripped him up and in the end all of his men were killed, including those he had walked past.

Hundreds of books have been and will still be written about Störtebecker and Simon von Utrecht. Some of those I have devoured as a child and this is why it hurts so much to have to tell you – all a lot of nonsense. Störtebecker lived and robbed until 1413, 12 years after his execution, which is a long time for a headless corpse. And Simon von Utrecht was just a lad when he allegedly seized Hamburg’s greatest adversary.

The story may be a tall tale, but piracy and the Victual Brothers were real and they were a real threat to the Hanse, or at least I believe it was.

Now before we get going you will have to endure my 30 second plea for support to the show. The other day I encountered someone who has been very successful in the podcasting business who  suggested to me that if I were to put advertising in, the number of Patreons would actually go up. The pain of listening to crypto nonsense on an infinity loop seems to be sufficiently painful for people to part with large amounts of cash, just to be able to get advertising-free content.

Now I promised not to do advertising and I stick to it. But I thought about what he said and realised that one way for me to achieve a similar reaction from you would be to sing. You should know that I am from a family that has been relieved from singing classes in the seventh generation and my in-laws have banned me from belting out Oh Tannenbaum at Christmas. So here we go: Oh Tannenbaum, oh Tannenbaum, wie gruen sind deine Blaetter…du bluehst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit, nein… Ok. I stop now. You get the gist of it.

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Ok – pirates. Pirates are as old as sea-borne trade. Julius Caesar was captured by pirates and Pompei cleared the Mediterranean from this menace in 66 B.C. and they are still around, though the Somali pirates seem to have been got under control these last few years.

We all know what pirate is, right. Jack Sparrow throwing the grappling hook on to the unsuspecting Spanish Galleon whilst the cannons roar, the snipers shoot from the crow’s nest and a parrot shouts pieces of eight, pieces of eight.

Well, a pirate in the late 14th century was quite different. First up, no cannons, no snipers, no parrots and no pieces of eight. All of that did not yet exist.

By the time of John Sparrow marine technology was dominated by cannon. Ships meant for combat not only carried cannon but were also built to sustain being shot at by cannon. That in turn meant these ships were a lot heavier, needing more sail and deeper draft, which in turn meant more crew. Basically, a merchantman was a very different construction to a warship.

In the Baltic of the 14th and 15th century there was no major difference between warships and merchant vessels. Any vessel could be turned into a naval vessel, all that needed to happen was to replace goods storage with bunk beds for armed men.

And that meant that the ship’s crew too could easily be repurposed from peaceful trader in furs and wax to sailors in the navy of their hometown or to pirate.

Many an honourable merchant found himself through circumstance forced to make up losses through piracy. All it took was to tell the crew that instead of going to load up with stockfish in Bergen, they were to do that on the high seas at the expense of some passing Dutchman.

The way these encounters took place was only half as bloody as it is shown in the Pirates of the Caribbean. Because there were no distance weapons apart from bows and crossbows, the main task was to get close enough to the quarry to place a grappling hook to reel in the other ship and then it was a simple question of numbers. If the attackers were 30 men and the prise had a crew of only 10, why would anyone risk a fight that results in loss of life or limb. In particular not if this was essentially a commercial transaction, admittedly a rather one-sided transaction, but a transaction nonetheless.

And if the numbers were even, the attacker is likely to give up the chase before he loses some of his own precious crew. When we hear about seriously bloody encounters it usually happened because something in the mutual assessment of relative forces went wrong or other, non-commercial motives played a role.

All this sits in the general context of the Middle Ages. There was no monopoly on violence held by the state. It was understood and legitimate that anyone who could not gain redress in the courts was perfectly in his rights to seek satisfaction by means of violence. If that happened between landowners, it was called a feud and it was exceedingly common. In previous seasons we heard about the attempts of medieval monarchs and the church to restrain or regulate feuds and how that regularly failed.

Controlling violence on the Baltic and the North Sea was even more difficult. One reason is quite simple, a merchant vessel travelling alone is a lot more vulnerable than a caravan travelling along a busy road. A maritime attacker can disappear much quicker and if need be witnesses can be sent to the bottom of the sea never to be seen again. Things are likely to have gotten a lot worse since the middle of the 13th century. The two great powers, the Holy Roman Empire and the kingdom of Denmark were no longer able to control their subjects. The smaller entities were even less able to exercise power over the knights and cities nominally under their rule, except maybe for the Teutonic knights and the king of England. 

You remember that merchant from Danzig we heard about last week who failed to get compensation for his goods stolen by baron Dispenser in the English court? Well, he had one last option left. He could set upon a ship owned by the Baron Dispenser or one of his relatives and get his compensation at the point of a sword. And if he did that, nobody would describe him as a pirate, well, nobody except for Dispenser, his relatives and his king, obviously.

In other words, the borders between merchant, navy captain and pirate were very, very fluid. One man’s pirate is another man’s naval hero.

In 1469 the Hanse is forced to explain its organisation and purpose to the Privy Council of the King of England. After explaining at length what they are not, they end by saying that: (quote) “the Hansa Teutonice is … a firm alliance of many cities, towns and communities for the purpose of ensuring that commercial enterprises on water and on land have the desired and favourable success and that effective protection is provided against pirates and highwaymen, so that the merchants are not deprived of their goods and valuables by their raids.”

It basically says that protection from violence on land and at sea was one of the two main purposes of the Hansa. And if you look at the early stages of the Hanse, that is exactly what the association provided. The merchants would travel together in a convoy to Novgorod, having sworn to protect each other against any attack along the way. The more merchants joined the convoy the safer it became, which I turn attracted more shippers to join, even if that meant they would all arrive together and achieve a lower price for their wares than if they arrived earlier or left later.

Though piracy is quite obviously a major problem right from the very beginning, we hear very little about pirates in the records before the late 14th century.

It in this period following the victory over Waldemar Atterdag that we suddenly get lots and lots of stories about piracy. At the heart of these stories is another association, the Victual Brothers. The Victual Brothers are described as the antithesis to the Hanseatic merchants.  They are pirates who live by the slogan “God’s friend and all the world’s foe”. This motto is inscribed in the statue of Klaus Störtebecker, the city of Hamburg erected in 1982 on the site of his execution, which ironically has become the largest urban redevelopment project in Europe.

Who were the Victual Brothers? For that we have to go back to Danish history in the late 14th century.

You remember that when Waldemar Atterdag died in 1475 the Hanse helped to pass the crown of Denmark to his grandson, Olaf II, the five-year old son of Waldemar’s daughter Margaret, Margaret it turned out was a political genius eclipsing her already very successful father.

When Margaret took over the kingdom it was still in a fragile state. The great fortresses on the Oresund were managed by the Hansards meaning that only 1/3 of the now much reduced tolls for transitioning the strait came to the crown. Equally the Hanse blocked Dutch and English merchants from getting to the herring markets in Skanoer and Falsterbo which reduced this once great fair where all kinds of product was traded to just a place to load up on fish. This plus the privileges of the Hanse traders meant that revenue from there also shrunk considerably.

Like her father Margaret was a patient empire builder, just better at it. She stayed quiet and compliant until the term of Hansard occupation of the castles was over and in 1385 took them back. And then she began pushing up the price of the tolls, thereby rebuilding the finances of the realm. In 1386 she found an at least temporary compromise on the ever-burning question of Schleswig by agreeing that the counts of Holstein would hold the duchy as a fief from the Danish crown. This meant the count was now constrained in what he could or could not do in Denmark, including was no longer able to support the rebellious Danish nobles in Jutland. It also meant that already messy notion of whether Schleswig was Danish or part of the Holy Roman Empire went into another painful iteration. Though it remained disputed who it belongs to for the next 550 years, the two territories, Schleswig and Holstein are from now on united into one.

Ok, that was a bit of a diversion. The other territory Margaret acquired was Norway. Oh, sorry, she did not acquire it, her son, still a minor at the time did. Margaret’s husband, king Haakon had died in 1380, at which point the crowns of Norway and Denmark were united. It will take until 1991 before Norway will get a king again who was not also king of either Denmark or Sweden and who was born in Norway.

Olaf II of Denmark

Being Olaf II of Denmark and Olaf IV of Norway sounds quite impressive, but little Olaf had the trifecta of claims to Scandinavian crowns. His grandfather had been king Magnus IV of Sweden. If Magnus had remained on his throne, little Olaf would have smoothly picked up this crown as well. But Magnus had not held on to his crown.

Magnus Ericsson

15 years earlier Magnus had clashed with his nobles who regarded him as a weak ruler. He had lost Sania to Waldemar Atterdag and he was also accused of excessive favouritism towards a young courtier, Bengt Algotsson. A group of rebellious nobles formed who were then exiled by Magnus in 1363. The nobles sailed across the sea to meet up with Albrecht of Mecklenburg, the brother in-law of Magnus and father of another Albrecht who had at least a little bit of Swedish blood through his mother. This Albrecht it was concluded should be made king of Sweden.

Albrecht II Duke of Mecklenburg

The project was supported by a number of German princes and some of the Hanseatic cities. They showed up in Sweden in 1364 and a civil war began between Albrecht and Magnus. In 1365 Magnus is captured and the conduct of the war is now left to Magnus’ son Haakon, who was married to that self-same Margaret and is also the father of little Olaf, soon king of Denmark. Haakon could therefore count on support from the Danes.

Are you still following?

We now have another theatre of war in the Baltic involving basically Norway and Denmark on one side and the German princes plus some Hanseatic cities on the other. This war is raging for a cool 31 years, from 1364 to 1395. Inside Sweden the countryside is largely supportive of Magnus, Haakon and finally Olaf/Margaret whilst the main cities, Stockholm and Kalmar with their large population of Hanseatic merchants, support Albrecht.

Stockholm comes under siege in 1371 and Albrecht relies on Hanseatic ships to keep the city supplied with food and weapons. For that he turns to his Mecklenburg subjects including the cities of Rostock and Wismar. They are happy to help but it raises the question of how they should be paid. Neither the harassed king of Sweden nor his dad, the duke of Mecklenburg had the funds to pay.

If we were in the 18th century the way to deal with this would have been to give the captains of these ships a letter of marque. That is what Francis Drake had, a letter from the king authorising him to capture vessels of the enemy on his own account. These letters of marque made him a privateer, i.e., a pirate who could take refuge in the harbours of the king of England.

Letters of marque did not yet exist in 1371. It would be a hundred years before the first privateer order was issued by the city of Lübeck. But the concept is the same. The duke of Mecklenburg authorised the ship’s captains to seize enemy vessels and bring them to the harbours of Rostock and Wismar.

Being able to seek refuge in a major trading city was crucial. Think about what is on these ships they capture: Furs, beeswax, grain, herring, cloth. If you want to turn this into cash to pay the crew, to repair damage to the ship and to ultimately retire, you needed a fence, a fence who can offload a couple of tons of grain or 50 barrels of herring. That is no fence, that is a merchant.

That is the big difference between Baltic piracy and Captain Blackbeard. In the Caribbean they went after the ships full of gold and silver. That requires no fence at all. What they needed were safe places to make repairs and maybe a place to get a barrel of rum and some entertainment, but they did not need a full-service trading city that could move stolen goods into major export markets.

Baltic pirates needed full-service trading cities. Rostock and Wismar were full-service trading cities.

Which gets us to the next question, who were the enemies these sea captains were permitted to attack? Well, naturally that would be Albrecht’s enemies, Norway and Denmark as well as the Swedish nobles.

But here is the rub. Neither Norway nor Denmark had many ships. We have just gone past the Peace of Stralsund and trading in the Baltic is pretty much a monopoly of the Hanse. There was some disagreement between the Mecklenburger duke and say Lübeck and Stralsund because they had signed the peace deal of Stralsund without asking him. But that was not really enough to call an outright war. And Rostock and Wismar were Hanse cities, so obliged not to attack other Hansards. And finally his main supporters in Sweden were the German merchants of Stockholm and Kalmar who had close connections to the Hanse.

So, thinks stayed in limbo for a while. The privateers went after the rare Danish and Norwegian vessels. They even did take the occasional Hanseatic vessel and sold its content in Rostock or Wismar. The owner protested and the other Hanseatic cities demanded that they stopped fencing stolen goods. But Rostock and Wismar said that their hands were tied. As loyal subjects of their overlord, the duke of Mecklenburg there was nothing they could do. Ah, and it also made them rich, so they did not really want to stop.

In 1376 the Hansetag decided to raise funds to pay for a fleet to run these pirates down. But then the Prussian cities refused to pay the tax and the whole thing petered out. Looks like Rostock and Wismar weren’t the only ones playing the fencing game.

That went on until 1389 when the war between Margaret of Denmark and duke Albrecht of Mecklenburg entered its final phase. Albrecht of Sweden was captured, and his father grew desperate to get him back. In that situation he went from a more informal approach to a declaration of all-out war at sea. He proclaimed that he would open all the harbours in his duchy of Mecklenburg to quote “anyone who was prepared to go to sea to harm the kingdom of Denmark”.

According to Philipp Dollinger this opened the floodgates and knights, burghers, peasants and common thieves joined the banners of Mecklenburg noblemen who fitted out ships for war. Rostock and Wismar became the headquarters of the piracy operation where raids all along the coasts of Scandinavia were planned.

This all out war at sea turned the tide for Albrecht, at least a little bit. The privateers attacked shipping all across the Baltic, but particularly in and out of the herring market in Scania. No longer did they spare ships from Lübeck, Stralsund or Gdansk.

In 1391 they took Bornholm and Gotland, then Viborg, Abo and some other fortresses in Finland. They raided the city of Bergen in 1393 and Malmö in 1394. All goods stolen there were channelled back into the European market via Rostock and Wismar.

These privateers came to be known as the Victual Brothers. The word is usually linked to the French word vitailleur or viteller in English. These were the detachments of soldiers sent out to procure food and drink for the army on the march. In the chaos of the Hundred-Years war these vitailleurs turned into outright robbers. The term came up from France and was then attributed to the privateers. Some modern historians claim that the addition of the word brother was given to them by their enemies to create the impression they were an organised, coherent army rather than a loose confederation of independent military entrepreneurs.

Another term used for them was Likedeeler, referring to crews who shared the loot equally.

The response of the other Hanseatic cities to the Victual Brothers was twofold. One was obvious, they raised fleet after fleet to fight the pirates. The other was a lot more effective. They agreed with Queen Margaret of Denmark to shut down the herring market in Scania. This was an event of European significance. In Danzig, the prices for fish tripled and further inland, say Frankfurt, the price went up factor 10, making it hard, if not impossible for the lower classes to stick to their fast days.  

The embargo did work. By cutting off the trade route, pirates no longer made enough money to warrant their risks, and many went home. The two Albrechts had to give up the struggle for the Swedish crown. In 1395 the two sides agreed a peace treaty. Albrecht, king of Sweden was released from captivity and returned home to finish his days as duke, no longer featuring much in the history books.

Margaret of Denmark took over Sweden and brought the three Scandinavian kingdoms which also included Finland, Iceland, Greenland Fraoer etc. under the rule of one man in an agreement known as the Klamar Union. This is the 14th century, so it had to be a man. Little Olaf, who had never gained any power alongside his mother had died unexpectedly. Margaret therefore replaced him with a young cousin, Eric of Pomerania, a dashing and foolish man. The three kingdoms were now ruled by the wise and energetic Margaret, and she did rule well. On this eternal back and forth between world domination and raging impotence that Denmark was now famous for, this was the brief moment in the sun. Eric would have to wait until Margaret’s death in 1412 before he could make a right royal mess of things.

The capitulation of Albrecht of Mecklenburg left the remaining privateers in a bit of a pickle. The harbours of Rostock and Wismar were now closed. They had acquired Gotland and with it the city of Visby. Visby had suffered a lot in the last decades being constantly fought over by Danes and Swedes. But there were still some merchants there and they could still fence some of the goods the sea captains brought up. The privateers were now no longer restrained by their agreement with Albrecht to attack only Denmark and its allies. They went out to attack anyone irrespective of where they were from.

The cities of Lübeck and Stralsund who had taken the lead role in the military operations against the privateers so far did not have the capacity to take Gotland on their own. Visby’s famous walls, 3.6km long and protected by 51 towers were beyond their siege capabilities. They needed help from a major land-based military power. The Teutonic Knights who had been largely neutral so far could be convinced to get involved. Not for the lofty goal of creating safe shipping lanes, but because they were interested in taking Gotland for themselves.

Visby City Wall, east side facing north in winter. Visby, Gotland, Sweden.

In 1398 the Grand Master Konrad of Jungingen mustered 84 ships and 4000 men and sailed for Visby. He took the city with ease and held it for the following 10 years. There is a Swedish folk song that described Visby as follows:

With hundredweight they weighed their gold,
They played With precious stones,
Their women used golden distaffs,
And pigs ate out of silver troughs.

When the Teutonic Knights left in 1408 there was no gold, no silver and no precious stone left in Visby. The place emptied out and by the 16th century all the churches were abandoned except for St. Mary, the church of the Gotlandfahrer. It depends very much on your nationality whether you blame Waldemar Atterdag’s siege of 1361, the pirates or the Teutonic knights for the fall of the once great centre of Baltic trade. The only thing we can agree on is that it is gone.

Who else is gone from the Baltic were the privateers. Without a base where to offload and sell their loot, piracy on the scale they had operated until now was no longer feasible. Most I guess just went home to live out their last years as honoured members of the city council. Some relocated to the North Sea. There they found a new base amongst the chieftains of Ostfriesland.

East Frisian Chieftain

Yes, chieftains. In German they are called Häuptling, the same word we use for the leaders of the native Americans. These guys were another leftover of the days when Germanic tribes scaled the walls of Roman forts. Originally these weren’t aristocrats in the classic feudal sense but elected leaders of free men. They settled in East Frisia, the land roughly between Bremen and Groningen on the North Sea coast. They operated somewhat outside the general structures of the Holy Roman empire, being neither subjects of a territorial prince nor of the emperor.

These guys gave refuge to the remaining Victual Brothers who now harassed the ships travelling along the coast from Hamburg and Bremen to Flanders. And this is where the famous Klaus Störtebecker appears for the first time. There is no record of him when the Victual brothers were riding high in Rostock, Wismar or Visby at all.

Now he was allegedly the great leader of the Victual Brothers enjoying the hospitality of the Friesian chieftains. In 1400 the cities of Hamburg and Bremen mustered a fleet and defeated the Frisian chieftains. The chieftains signed an agreement, never to hire any Victual brothers again. The following year the Victiual brothers were back in East Frisia. The chieftains said that these guys weren’t Victual Brothers but just common mercenaries. The Hamburgers returned and defeated the Frisians again and made them sign another agreement promising not to let any Victual brothers, robbers, pirates or other malefactors into their harbours. It is on this later raid that Klaus Störtebecker was allegedly captured. He was brought to Hamburg, he and his men were executed and there was no more piracy harassing the Hanseatic trade ever again…..

Ah, no. piracy did not stop. Simon von Utrecht, the Hamburg naval hero who allegedly defeated Störtebecker at the age of maybe 15 fought pirates well into the 1430s. The Victual brothers keep popping up in Hanse documents until about 1470. And after 1470, Lübeck issued a detailed ordinance about how to run a legitimate privateer operation.

The most famous act of piracy post Störtebecker occurred in 1473. The Hanseatic League is at war with king Edward IV of england. Paul Beneke, a city councillor from Danzig sailed under a letter of marque chasing English merchantmen. He commanded the largest ship in the Hanseatic fleet, the Peter of Danzig, 51 metres long with a displacement of 1600 tons. To put that in context, the Santa Maria that carried Columbus to the Carribean was just 19m long with a displacement odd 108 tons.

The Peter von Danzig

Whilst cruising off the shore of Zeeland, not far from Sluis, the Peter von Danzig comes upon a galley leaving Bruges. This galley was ostensibly owned by Tommaso Portinari, the manager of the Medici bank branch in Bruges and flew the flag of neutral Burgundy. Still Beneke approaches and demands to know whether any English goods are on board. The captain of the galleys laughs out loud and points at the large Burgundian banner. An altercation ensues, shots are fired. Beneke and his men capture the galley. Later they will say they found English merchandise on board and proof it was owned by king Edward IV. We do not know whether that is true. What is certain though is that they found something very valuable on board. The Last Judgement an enormous triptych by the Flemish painter Hans Memling. It had been commissioned by another Medici agent in Bruges, Andrea Tani. Beneke takes that painting and puts it into the church of St. Mary in his hometown where it stayed until it became the star exhibit in the Gdansk National Museum.

The Medici mobilised the pope to demand the return of the painting to its rightful owner, but the city council of Danzig refused, claiming it to be a legitimate prize. In the 19th century Beneke became a national hero, not of the Poles, but of the Germans residing in Danzig. The Nazis built a memorial shrine for Beneke complete with statue and mural, Gunther Grass makes up a grandiose tall tale about the figurehead of the galleon. One man’s pirate is another man’s naval hero.

So, pirates existed before the Victual Brothers and Klaus Störtebecker and they existed long afterwards, assuming the latter existed at all. Which leaves the question why this story has become such an icon of Hanseatic history.

To get to the bottom of it would require a full review of the perception history of the Hanseatic League, which we will do at the end of this series, as we always do. But there is also the question why the Victual brothers kept getting discussed on the contemporaneous Hansetage as a huge threat to the association.

One reason may have been that these pirates needed to be portrayed as a huge danger to each individual city in order to justify the raising of taxes to fight them. But I believe there is something more profound at work here.

Remember what the Hansa is for as per the statement from 1479, not just to protect the traders from pirates and robbers, but primarily to ensure quote “that commercial enterprises on water and on land have the desired and favourable success”. And the way they do that is by reducing friction in trade. They gain privileges in key trading centres abroad, the Hanseatic cities adopted either Lübeck or Magdeburg law which meant they had similar rules about trade and shipping and these rules were enforced by unbiased courts. Merchants in the Hanse had a vast network of personal relationships across the different cities, be it because they had been apprenticed in another city, had spent a winter in Novgorod and Bergen with fellow Hansards, had sailed to Bruges or London with others, had found their wives in distant shores and married their daughters to colleagues within the network. Carsten Jahnke describes the financial interrelationships within these networks and points out that merchants were constantly holding goods and funds in trust for each other. To function, these networks required each member to be trustworthy and predictable.

And that is why the Victual Brothers were a major shock to the system. Before 1370 any form of piracy or privateering was directed against explicit opponents, usually not against members of the Hanse. When Rostock and Wismar took part in this large scale operation and were trading the stolen goods through other Hansards, the system of mutual trust was at risk of collapse.

Networks like the ones that dominate the internet today can take some proportion of dishonest players. For instance, Tripadvisor still has some credibility despite a lot of fake reviews. But once a network is overrun by dishonest actors, it loses validity and collapses.

The leaders of the Hanse must have seen this danger and that is why they reacted so strongly and that is also why they kept the memory of the Victual Brothers alive. The story of the Victual brothers is therefore much less of a story about pirates, but a story about the Hanseatic League itself and its ability to heal. Violence at sea continued well after Störtebecker was allegedly beheaded, but no city would harbour privateers attacking other Hanse members as openly as Rostock and Wismar have done. As for the former fences in Rostock and Wismar, they returned to be honest merchants and their descendants proudly display their HR and HW numberplates.

Next week we will talk a bit more about what the Hansa actually was, how it operated and why the English described it as a crocodile, a dangerous animal, the body and strength of which was always hidden below the surface. I hope you will join us again.

Now instead of the usual closing speech referencing patreon.com/historyofthegermans and historyofhgermans.com/support, as promised, here is the section in the Tin drum by Gunter Grass talking about the national maritime museum in Gdansk:

The Tin Drum a book by Gunter Grass and Breon Mitchell. (bookshop.org)

End quote.

The story does not end here as you can imagine. There will be a death and sex before the end of this chapter. If you like such “frolicking fables that portray a forgotten face of history” as much as the Nobel committee that awarded him the prize for literature in 1999, get yourself a copy of the tin drum.

or how the Hanse forced Norway, Novgorod and even Bruges to grant privileges

The Hanseatic League undergoes a fundamental transformation in the second half of the 14th century. It turned from a guild of merchants trading across the Baltic and the North Sea into an alliance of trading cities. An alliance that has proven that it can fight and win wars against major territorial powers. That sits quite uncomfortably with the existing European rulers who wonder what to do with this alien inside their body politic.

The Hanse had acquired a wide range of trading privileges in their main Kontors in England, Flanders, Norway and the Republic of Novgorod. These privileges did not only disadvantage the locals who were unsurprisingly hostile but also challenged the authority of the princes. That was just about bearable as long as this was just a community of grubby merchants from the Empire. Now that these merchants had built formidable cities, commanded great navies and toppled kings, it became an entirely different ballgame.

Furthermore, the legitimacy of the Hansa was fragile. The Hanseatic Cities, apart from Lübeck and Dortmund weren’t free imperial cities, making them at least formally subject to their territorial lords. As such they could not form an actual league of cities as the Northern Italian republics had done a hundred years earlier. Nor were they allowed to conduct foreign policy against their territorial lord, though they sometimes did. These fault lines will become ever more apparent as we go forward with our history.

This week we will get a first glimpse at what will lead to the ultimate demise of the League as we get into the year 1388, a year when the cities face off against three of the most powerful political entities in Northern Europe, the kingdom of England, the county of Flanders and the Republic of Novgorod.

Hello and Welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 117 – Embargoes

The Hanseatic League undergoes a fundamental transformation in the second half of the 14th century. It turned from a guild of merchants trading across the Baltic and the North Sea into an alliance of trading cities. An alliance that has proven that it can fight and win wars against major territorial powers. That sits quite uncomfortably with the existing European rulers who wonder what to do with this alien inside their body politic.

The Hanse had acquired a wide range of trading privileges in their main Kontors in England, Flanders, Norway and the Republic of Novgorod. These privileges did not only disadvantage the locals who were unsurprisingly hostile but also challenged the authority of the princes. That was just about bearable as long as this was just a community of grubby merchants from the Empire. Now that these merchants had built formidable cities, commanded great navies and toppled kings, it became an entirely different ballgame.

Furthermore, the legitimacy of the Hansa was fragile. The Hanseatic Cities, apart from Lübeck and Dortmund weren’t free imperial cities, making them at least formally subject to their territorial lords. As such they could not form an actual league of cities as the Northern Italian republics had done a hundred years earlier. Nor were they allowed to conduct foreign policy against their territorial lord, though they sometimes did. These fault lines will become ever more apparent as we go forward with our history.

This week we will get a first glimpse at what will lead to the ultimate demise of the League as we get into the year 1388, a year when the cities face off against three of the most powerful political entities in Northern Europe, the kingdom of England, the county of Flanders and the Republic of Novgorod.

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Last week we ended on the Peace of Stralsund the masterpiece of the diplomacy of Henning von Putbus, the leader of the Danish Royal council. After the crushing defeat at the hands of the Hanseatic League and its allies, king Waldemar Atterdag and even the kingdom of Denmark itself had been done for. The allies’, i.e., the counts of Holstein, the king of Sweden, the duke of Mecklenburg and some of the great aristocratic Danish families intent was to turn the clock back to 1340 when the kingdom did not have a ruler, its great provinces had been mortgaged to German princes and the Hanse controlled to Oresund as well as the herring market in Scania.

By driving a wedge between the Hanse whose interests were mainly mercantile and its allies, the princes, whose interests were purely territorial, Henning von Putbus managed to preserve the kingdom of his absent monarch. It came at a price though.

Denmark had to cede control of the main castles that controlled the passage between the Baltic and the North Sea to the Hanse for a term of 15 years. Throughout that period the Hanse could collect 2/3rds of the tolls for the use of the Oresund and -even more important – could control who was allowed to go through and who wasn’t. Being able to block access gave the Hanse a monopoly on all trade with the Northeast of Europe. The Hanse had control of the export of Baltic herring a staple of European diet, of the finest beeswax that lit up the great cathedrals and monasteries and the large shipments of grain from the Hinterland of Pomerania, Prussia and Livonia that fed the large cities of Flanders and England.

The final concession Putbus had to make to secure a deal was to give these plebeian merchants a say in who would become king of Denmark once Waldemar Atterdag were to die. By the way, I initially called him Waldemar Dawn, which is a translation of the Danish word Atterdag. But I found it more fun to say the word Atterdag than the word Dawn, and if you search for Waldemar Dawn on Google you will struggle to find anything useful, whilst Waldemar Atterdag will get you straight there.

So, Waldemar Atterdag had no son. With his current wife still very much alive and past child-bearing age, the succession was likely to go through one of his daughters. The older, Ingeborg was married to Henry of Mecklenburg who in turn was the brother of the current king of Sweden as well as the son of the duke of Mecklenburg. The younger one, Margaret was married to Haakon, the king of Norway. Both of them had male children, Ingeborg’s son was called Albrecht and Margarets was called Olaf. 

Both were infants in 1375 meaning that their guardians, i.e., either the duke of Mecklenburg or the king of Norway would effectively rule Denmark. 1375 was the year king Waldemar Atterdag passed.

When the royal council of Denmark asked the Hanse, who amongst the two pretenders they were to choose, the Hanse went for the Norway option, king Olaf II who was five at the time. That seemed like the right decision since the Mecklenburger already had Sweden and were the overlords of Rostock and Wismar. It seemed a lot better to let the Norwegians have Denmark. Norway was a lot smaller than Sweden, further away and, as we heard before in the episode about Bergen, utterly dependent upon grain shipments from Lübeck and Prussia.

This was one of those decisions that were entirely rational but turned out to have been a majorly wrong in hindsight. What the Burgermeisters and city councillors did not know and probably could not even have imagined, was that Margaret, youngest daughter of Waldemar Atterdag was the greatest Scandinavian politician of the Middle Ages – full stop.

I heard Simon Sebag Montefiore saying on a different podcast that there is a fashion to elevate the role of women in history – presumably beyond of what their actual impact warrants. That may be so, but in the case of Margaret of Denmark there is no bigging up possible. She is undeniably an exceptional political operator, a crucial figure in Scandinavian history and the Hanse’s most formidable opponent.

But for now, you should park Margaret in the back of your mind. She will make her presence felt very soon. For now, we need to contemplate how the rest of Northern Europe felt about n association of cities taking charge of the fate of entire kingdoms.

For the last 150 years or so the counts of Flanders, the kings of England and the rulers of Norway and Novgorod had regarded the men who had come on their cogs from the east with furs, beeswax, grain, copper and whatnot as merchants. Which is not surprising given that was exactly what they were.

But in these years from 1360 onwards it had become clear that they were not just merchants. They had proven they could muster a navy that could bring down a king any time they so wanted. If the Hanse is not just a trading association but a political power, the trading privileges they held in Flanders, England or Novgorod take on a very different meaning.

No longer are they concessions made to attract trade and grow their own markets. They are also concessions to a foreign power that can use the benefits to fit out ships that could attack their harbours and castles. Moreover, some of these privileges meant the Hansards operated outside the jurisdiction of the local rulers. Cases against them for breach of contract had to be brought before their judges, not the local magistrate. In criminal cases they were either immune from the royal officials or were smuggled out of the country before they could be brought to heel.

In a world where the monarchies move gradually towards a modern understanding of the state as the holder of a monopoly on violence, these ancient privileges become increasingly hard to swallow.

All these misgivings were boosted by the constant complaints of the locals. The rulers own subjects  have to cough up for all the tolls and taxes these foreigners do not have to pay. The Hansards have privileges in the markets and in many places can even compete directly with their commerce by selling to retail customers.

And finally, along with the growing role of the state comes the understanding that all this economic activity actually matters. In 1319 the company of the Merchants of the Staple is established in England by Royal Charter. The merchants of the Staple are given the monopoly in the trade with wool, leather, lead and tin. That was intended both to concentrate the trade, making it more efficient as well as facilitating the collection of taxes and dues. A little later a competing association of Merchant Adventurers forms who trade in all the goods not covered by the monopoly of the Merchants of the Staple. They too receive a royal charter in 1407. And their major competitors are the Hansards.

These tensions result in an almighty blow-up in 1388. And it did not happen in just one place, but in three, but all at the same time. Let’s start with the events in Flanders.

When we left the scene in Bruges in 1360 the Hanse had just achieved a major victory. The city of Bruges had attempted to curtail the Hanse’s privileges. In response the Hansards staged a walkout thereby cutting Bruges off from supply of goods from the Baltic. Amongst those the grain from Prussia was the one that hurt the most. Bread prices for the lower classes in the overcrowded city went up, there was fear of riots and the citizens of Bruges, still the largest and most important trading place in Northern Europe had to cave.

For the subsequent 15 years things went reasonably smoothly, but by 1375 tensions rose again. The members of the Kontor complained to the Hansetag that Bruges was claiming import tax on the stockfish from Bergen, that they had banned the import of Hamburg beer and that the city authorities were unwilling to prevent attacks on their warehouses and then failed to honour claims for damages.

The Hansetag sent a delegation to Bruges to negotiate but they ran into a brick wall. After the delegation had returned back home, the Hansards in Bruges decided to take things into their own hands and stage another walkout.

They had to plan this in secrecy, not only because they did not want to give the city or the count of Flanders a chance to stop them, but also because they were no longer allowed to steer the policy of the Kontor themselves. Initially the Kontors were managed by the merchants who were on location at any given time. They would select their aldermen and make the decisions about how to handle any conflict with the locals. In 1366 the cities and the Hansetag took over control of the Kontors. From now on all major decisions had to be taken by the Hansetag and or one of the cities’ representatives on site.

Something went wrong in the process and the secret of the planned walkout came out before the Hansards could get themselves and their wares out of the city. The count of Flanders was apoplectic and had the merchants thrown in jail and their goods sequestered. Since they had acted without permission from back home, they did not get any support from the Hansetag.

Caught in the middle, the German merchants in Bruges had to swallow the demands of the count of Flanders. They were made to stay and to trade from their now much less privileged position. Once released from prison they wrote a bitter letter back home to Lübeck: quote “Now that the lords of the cities are in charge of us, they may also deliberate on the disgrace that has been done to us, for we did not want to give up our privileges.”

This is now quite embarrassing for the cities. They had wanted to take control of the Kontors and upon the first challenge, the new system had utterly failed. They had to do something. Sending a letter of protest was something, so they did that.

But negotiations did not even begin. That had less to do with the lack of seriousness of the letter, but with problems in Flanders itself. In 1379 the Revolt of Ghent broke out. The city of Ghent was rising up against the count of Flanders. Relations between the count and the city had been fraught for a long time.

The count had sided with the king of France during the hundred years war, which had a detrimental effect on the ability to import wool from England. English wool was critical in the production of cloth which is what had made the Flemish cities rich. The city of Ghent had previously revolted in 1338 and established an independent city government that signed treaties with England. But in 1345 the counts had brought Ghent and the other cities back under their control.

Fast forward to 1379 and revolt broke out again. The trigger was that the citizens of Bruges had been allowed by the count to build a new canal to the sea to protect their rapidly silting harbour. As work progressed, Ghent citizens attacked the workers from Bruges, killed a bailiff and burnt one of the count’s castles down. Things escalated and within weeks weavers all across Flanders took up arms against the count.

What followed was a brutal war between several of the cities, including Ghent Bruges and Ypres on one side and the count and his French allies on the other. A war that devastated the richest county in all of Christendom. In 1382 the count defeated the cities at the battle of Roosebeke which led to a series of reprisals against the leading citizens who had supported the rebellion. Only Ghent still refused to surrender and the war dragged on for another 3 years.

Bottom line was that most of the foreign merchants left Flanders during this period to avoid getting killed in the crossfire. By the end of 1382 only about 20 Hansards still held out in the devastated city of Bruges.  One of the reasons the war ended with a peace agreement was that the old count of Flanders died in 1384.

His incredibly rich county went to his son-in-law, the duke of Burgundy, Philip the Bold. Philip needed to urgently rebuild the economy of Flanders in order to fund his participation in the hundred-years war. He therefore entered into negotiations with the Hanse about a return of the German merchants to Bruges.  

The Hanse thought they had the upper hand and demanded the restoration of all their ancient privileges plus an exorbitant compensation for lost business. And on top of that they demanded that Philip would erect a chapel as atonement for the imprisonment of the Hanse merchants in 1378 as well as three masses to be sung every year to commemorate those who had died during the revolt.

These demands, in particular the chapel went too far for the duke of Burgundy. Even though it wasn’t him who had imprisoned the merchants, it was still his honour that would be diminished by such an atonement.

I am not quite sure what it was that made the Hanse to put forward such an obviously impossible and economically irrelevant demand. In part this may have been to gain a bargaining chip that could easily be sacrificed. It could also have been because the Hanse itself was divided. Lübeck and the Wendish cities were pursuing a hard line against Philip, whilst Danzig and the Teutonic Knights advocated for a more conciliatory approach.

This rift within the association shows that the Hanse was by no means a monolithic organisation. They could align behind one purpose and maintain tight discipline as they had done during the war against Denmark. But it wasn’t something the Hanse cities were usually comfortable with. The confederation of Cologne, that agreement they had all signed in the build-up to the war with Denmark and that demanded strict compliance by all members ran out in 1385 and was not renewed. The Hanse was not a league of cities or a permanent alliance, but something much looser, held together by cultural ties and common interests, not a command-and-control structure. And an outright commercial war with Flanders was not in everyone’s interest.

So, when negotiations with Philip of Burgundy collapsed in 1388, the cities came together on a Hansetag to debate whether or not to place Bruges under embargo again. The Wendish cities did win the support of the majority by a thin margin.

So, the embargo was declared and the merchants in the Kontor of Bruges left the city to settle in Dordrecht in Holland for the time being. And the terms of the embargo were even stricter than in 1358. All trade with Flemish merchants was prohibited. Even entering the prohibited zone without goods was to be punished. Goods arriving had to carry a certificate of origin. Any wares arriving from Flanders in any Hanseatic port had to be confiscated, even if they had come with a neutral ship. Previously the rule had been to just send the contraband back.

But, and there is a big but, the Wendish cities had to make material concessions to the Prussians to get their approval. Danzig, Elbing, Thor etc. were allowed to trade amber with Flanders, they were allowed to import cloth for the Teutonic Knight’s robes and even go to the markets in Brabant.

And as for the Dutch cities like Kampen, they were even more reluctant to comply. They saw a great opportunity to benefit from a major smuggling operation by allowing the grain ships from Danzig to unload in their harbours.

The laxity of the blockade meant that the embargo lasted a lot longer than last time. Only after 4 years did the parties agree. The Hansards had to drop the demand for a chapel and cut the damage claim to 11,000 pounds of silver. In return they got a few more privileges, in particular improved protection against piracy.

By the end of 1392 the merchants of the Kontor of Bruges returned. Again, the Hanse had triumphed over the greatest trading city in their world and one of the most powerful territorial lord on the continent. But the success already rang a bit hollow.

Even before the Hansards returned to Bruges did the local merchants vow not to let these foreigners gain any more headway. The new ruler of Flanders was the duke of Burgundy whose lands extended into Northern France, down into actual Burgundy and Holland. Next time the Hansards want to move their Kontor elsewhere in the Netherlands, they will find it more and more difficult to escape the clutches of the duke.

But most concerning was the constant breaking of the blockade. This unveiled internal disagreements between the cities whose economic interests had begun to diverge.

Flanders wasn’t the only flashpoint for the Hanseatic League. England was another.

King Edward III, the great friend and sponsor of the Hanse had died in 1377. Even by the end of his reign the relationship had cooled off a bit. Gone were the days when the German merchants went out of their way to save his majesty from the embarrassment of having his crown sold at auction to the highest bidder.

England had for centuries been just a producer of wool that was sold to the cities of Flanders where it was weaved into cloth. The merchants who had a monopoly on selling this wool were the Merchants of the Staple, a trading association established by royal charter in 1319 but probably even older.

This monopoly forced others who wanted to participate in England’s most important industry to look for ways to get around these restrictions. What the monopoly of the Merchants of the Staple did not cover was the finished product, i.e., cloth.

There was surely some form of cloth industry in England before the 14th century serving mainly local demand. But by the 1350s this industry had scaled up. The reason was probably threefold.

One was the simple profit motive. As the splendid guild houses in Ghent, Ypres, Bruges and later Antwerp make abundantly clear, there was a lot of money to be made in cloth, a lot more than in just producing wool.

The second was the disruption in the trade with Flanders caused by the hundred-years war. As we just heard, the count of Flanders and then his successor, Philip of Burgundy, supported the French. Hence England would often stop the export of wool to Flanders. That meant the wool producers in England needed to figure out what to do with all that excess wool they could no longer sell. So they began making cloth themselves.

And finally, these ambitious men who did not get a seat in the Merchant of the Staples’ hall opened up export markets for English cloth. They called themselves the Merchant Adventurers. There is still today a society of merchant adventurers in York whose splendid guildhall is well worth a visit.

By the 1350s these merchant adventurers had beaten a path into the Baltic, travelling the long way around Jutland. Their English cloth was cheaper and often easier to obtain than the Flemish product.  The return journey was profitable too as there was a lot of demand in England for wood, grain and copper.

The harbours the Merchant Adventurers sailed to were Elbing, Danzig and Stralsund, rather than Lübeck. They were often well received by the Teutonic Knights who had close relationships with the English aristocracy. British knights would come down to Prussia for sport during the years when the Hundred-years war went into a lull and opportunities for their favourite pastime, fighting, murdering and pillaging had become scarce.

The English Merchant Adventurers rented houses and market stalls and just generally made themselves comfortable in their new home. Soon their business expanded into the great herring market in Scania. Being great sailors and fairly close, they travelled to the Baie of Bourgneuf to load up with salt, turned round and headed for Falsterbo where they bought and pickled the herring they later sold back home or in Flanders.

When that started to bite into the profits of the Teutonic Knights and the merchants of Gdansk they turned against the English. After the war with Denmark, the Hanse had gained control of the Oresund and could therefore simply bar the Merchant Adventurers from coming in.

In return the English now made life difficult for the Hanseatic merchants in the Steelyard in London and their other Kontors along the east coast. Once Richard II assumed the throne pressure increased further. Other than his father, Richard was much more amenable to listen to his own subjects’ complaints against the foreign traders.

Upon Richard’s ascension to the throne the royal council refused to confirm the Hanse’s privileges unless certain conditions were met, including the preparation of a definitive list of Hanse members. The latter was wholly unacceptable to the Hanse as that would have forced them to take on a much more corporate structure with fixed membership and permanent institutions. And finally, the English had the audacity to demand reciprocity, i.e., grant the Merchant Adventurers the same rights in the Hanseatic Cities that the Hansards enjoyed in England. How dare they!

The initial reaction was diplomacy as per the usual playbook. The new Burgermeister of Lübeck, Jakob Pleskow travelled to England and after long and arduous discussions received the confirmation of the old privileges.

But that was just a piece of paper. The king still introduced new taxes on the Steelyard merchants, which they refused to pay on the basis of their ancient rights.

And generally the treatment of Hanseatic Merchants in England remained harsh. A Prussian envoy to the court of Saint James lists the following complaints:

  • In 1375 a Danzig citizen had his ship and contents confiscated by Edward le Dispenser and when he claimed redress his claim was rejected
  • In 1379 a ship was held for 8 months in the harbour of London, losing its owners 100 pound sterling
  • In 1381 a ship ran aground, and the locals took away its entire load worth 6oo pound sterling
  • In Scarborough in 1383 the locals accused a German merchant of being a Breton traitor and refused to pay him for the goods he had sold and handed over.
  • The most outrageous incident had happened in 1378 when another Danzig merchant was murdered together with his three shipmates by soldiers on an English Navy ship.

We can be sure that similar complaints were made by the English Merchant Adventurers about their treatment in the Baltic harbours.

Things escalated further until in 1385 an English fleet attacked German merchantmen in the harbour of Bruges. 6 of these ships belonged to the Teutonic Knights. The grand Master of the Teutonic Knights immediately declared an embargo on England.

To avoid having their goods confiscated, the Merchant Adventurers rapidly left Danzig and Elbing and hankered down in Stralsund where they initially found a friendly welcome.

But as there was no redress to be obtained for the various complaints, the city of Stralsund in agreement with the other Wendish cities confiscated the English merchants’ goods. At which point Richard II confiscated the goods in the Steelyard.

That was in that same year of 1388 when the Hanse declared an embargo against Flanders. The Teutonic knights and the Prussian cities who had been less keen on the embargo in Flanders as we have heard, nevertheless demanded all-out war against England.

Jakob Pleskow Bürgermeister of Lübeck and his colleague from Stralsund, Wulf Wulflam were dispatched to England to negotiate. These two can be credited with avoiding a most likely disastrous military engagement.

Even though the Hanse was still full of the glory of the recent success against Denmark, these two men and their colleagues on the city councils were hard-headed merchants who were used to measuring risk and return. They could think beyond the already massive military challenges posed by an attack on England to the impact such an action could have on an organisation as fluent as the Hanseatic League. And at the same time, they were astute negotiators who could bluff their way through a royal council of noblemen.

They could make their threats of imminent military intervention sound credible, whilst at the same time keeping their demands within a range that would not humiliate the king and his council. This time there were no calls for the construction of a chapel of atonement.

An agreement was finally reached. The confiscated goods were returned and the existing privileges for the Steelyard were again confirmed. In return the Merchant Adventurers were given the right to trade in the Hanseatic ports, even to trade ship to ship with other foreigners.

Who won in this contest is a bit of a debate. Yes, the Hanse managed to retain their privileges in the Steelyard without having to grant full equivalent treatment to the English. But in the long run the deal was probably more beneficial to the English than the Germans.

The Merchant Adventurers established a permanent base in Gdansk, their own guildhall and elected a governor. They went well beyond the agreement of 1388, formed corporations with Hanseatic merchants and offered their goods to retail customers.

In 1398 the Grand Master of the Teutonic knights had enough and unilaterally cancelled the agreement with the English Crown. But nothing came of it. In 1398 the League was no longer prepared to get into a fully-fledged fistfight with England.

That left the legal situation in limbo. Trade between England and the Baltic continued but without an overarching legal framework. Things depended a lot on circumstances and goodwill. Complaints kept going back and forth about how the English prevented the Germans from exercising their rights and how the Hanseatic cities imposed petty restrictions on the Merchant Adventurers, such as banning them from bringing their wives along.

This will go on and on until the closure of the Stalhof in 1598.

To complete our story of the embargoes of 1388 we need to mention the conflict with Novgorod.

The Kontor in Novgorod was the first the Hanse had established and still accounted for much of the export in furs and beeswax. But conflict had existed for quite a while caused mainly by the Teutonic Knights.

The Teutonic Knights weren’t members of the Hanseatic League but exercised a significant influence over it in their role as overlords of the Prussian cities as well as thanks to their own trading activities.

For the rulers of Novgorod, the Teutonic Knights and the Hanseatic league were largely synonymous. So, every time the knights expanded from their holdings in Latvia and Estonia at the expense of the Republic of Novgorod, the Novgorodians retaliated by confiscating the goods in the St. Peterhof.

Tension kept escalating and by 1388 the Hansetag decided to put Novgorod under embargo too. Given the League had shut down trade with England and Flanders, the two major export markets for furs and Beeswax, the incremental damage to their trade was limited.

Again, the blockade was not super tight, but still Novgorod caved. A new trade agreement was signed that confirmed and detailed the respective rights and privileges. This agreement held for almost a century.

But what we see with all these embargoes is that 18 years after the great victory over Denmark and the Peace of Stralsund, the coherence of the Hanseatic League has starting to come away at the seams.

The confederation of Cologne is not renewed. The cities, namely Lübeck, Rostock, Wismar and Stralsund on the one hand and the Prussian cities plus the Teutonic Knights on the other have different economic interests that drives them to demand diverging political positions. And we have not even talked about the wavering cities like Kampen and Bremen who are notorious for their blockade breaking.

Next week we will talk about another chapter in 14th century Hanseatic history, one that is probably the most famous. I talk obviously about the Victual Brothers, the notorious Baltic Pirates and their last leader Klaus Störtebecker whose last walk is part of Hamburg Folklore. I hope you are going to join us again, and quite frankly, why wouldn’t you – its about Pirates!

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

And just to remind you, the sub-podcast The Hanseatic League is still running. So, if you want to point a friend or relative towards the History of the Germans but want to avoid confusion, just send them there. The Hanseatic League is available everywhere you can get the History of the Germans.

The Peace of Stralsund

The Hanseatic League is first and foremost an organisation driven by commerce and commerce rarely sees the necessity of war. But in 1360 the organisation that had only just transitioned from a community of merchants to an alliance of cities found itself in gridlock with Waldemar Atterdag, Waldemar Dawn, king of Denmark..

Waldemar’s objective throughout his 35-year reign was to rebuild the kingdom of Denmark that had virtually disintegrated under his predecessors. And for that he needed money. That money he got from the two sources of wealth of the state of Denmark, taxing the trade in herring and the tolls for passing through the Oresund. The Hansards who dominated the herring trade and the traffic through the Oresund were the ones who were supposed to pay for that.

If that had not breached the tolerance levels of even the most sober Hanseatic merchant, the attack on Gotland and occupation of the Hanseatic city of Visby did. A fleet leaves Lübeck in 1362 to put the Danish tyrant back into his box…

Hello and Welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 116 – The War with Denmark Part 2

The Hanseatic League is first and foremost an organisation driven by commerce and commerce rarely sees the necessity of war. But in 1360 the organisation that had only just transitioned from a community of merchants to an alliance of cities found itself in gridlock with Waldemar Atterdag, Waldemar Dawn, king of Denmark. Waldemar’s objective throughout his 35-year reign was to rebuild the kingdom of Denmark that had virtually disintegrated under his predecessors.

And for that he needed money. That money he got from the two sources of wealth of the state of Denmark, taxing the trade in herring and the tolls for passing through the Oresund. The Hansards who dominated the herring trade and the traffic through the Oresund were the ones who were supposed to pay for that.

If that had not breached the tolerance levels of even the most sober Hanseatic merchant, the attack on Gotland and occupation of the Hanseatic city of Visby did. A fleet leaves Lübeck in 1362 to put the Danish tyrant back into his box…

Before we get into this, I want to thank my Patrons again for their generosity. It is thanks to your support this show stays on the road and remains advertising free. You guys may have noticed that so many podcasts are getting overrun with adverts, and podcasters are made to wax lyrically about rather basic banking services or underperforming telco providers. You do not want to waste your time with that, and I do not want the cringe of talking about my mental health. So, if you feel that this show is worth supporting, become a patron for as little as a chocolate croissant per month. It will be good for both your waistline and your mental health. And special thanks to Jason H., Georg B., Carsten E. and Andrew K. who have already signed up. 

Last episode we looked at the impact of the Black death on the Hanseatic League which, despite a third or more of the cities’ population dead had no material adverse long-term effects. As it happened, the four great scourges of the 14th century, war, plague, spiritual disorientation and climate change did not stop the League from hurtling towards its economic and political zenith. Arguably it was the challenges of the 14th century that allowed for this alliance of trading posts on the edge of Europe to rise to the prominence it still retains.

Two things helped the Hanse to manage the plague.

Firstly, cities remained an attractive place for ambitious young men and women keen to escape the confines of village life. Throughout the 14th century peasants migrating into the cities made up for population lost to the regular outbreaks of Pestilence and Typhoid.

Secondly, the plague brought about a material rise in average incomes across Europe as workers exploited the persistent labour shortages. I found a statistic by the Bank of England that tracked real -not just nominal- GDP per capita on a consistent basis from 1270 to 2016. There you can see that there was only one sustained increase in real GDP per head for 500 years and that happened between 1350 and 1400. Economic activity per head moved from around £800 in today’s money to £1,100.

And just for anyone who dreams of living in the Middle Ages, today the average GDP per head in the UK is ~£29,000, a cool 25 times the levels after the boost to wages during the plague. Or to put it another way, the annual average wage in 1400 bought you just one iPhone Pro Max.

But luckily for us, the guys in the Middle Ages did not waste their money on electronic gadgets that fried their brains, but on magnificent churches, sturdy city walls, wooden ships and the occasionally tight leggings that left little to the imagination.

And it is of wooden ships not leggings we want to talk today.

We left the narrative last week with the Burgermeister Johann Wittenborg setting sail for the Oresund. The aim was to bring the king of Denmark, Waldemar Dawn back into line. He had taken over the strategic island of Gotland and had captured the Hanseatic city of Visby. There was no more room for compromise left.

The Wendish and Pomeranian cities, that means Lübeck, Hamburg, Rostock, Wismar, Lüneburg, Stralsund, Greifswald as well as Anklam and Demmin met and decided that war was inevitable. Each city committed to a full embargo on trade with Denmark and offered support in the form of ships funded by a war tax on all exports from their harbours.

The cities were not willing to take on Waldemar Dawn all by themselves though. They brought in the sworn enemies of the Danish king of which there were many. Waldemar’s policy of rebuilding royal power had taken away lands and privileges from many of the leading powers in the Baltic, the counts of Holstein, the kings of Sweden and Norway as well as many of the Danish nobles. Even the Grand Master of the Teutonic knights signed up to the alliance.

On paper this looked like a walk in the park. But as the Germans say “Papier ist geduldig” which translates as paper is patient. Makes no sense but then it still does.

The first crack appeared because the agreement bound only the Wendish and Pomeranian cities. There had not been a general Hansetag, a gathering of all the members of the league that had decided to go after Waldemar.

Because it was only one part the cities that had signed on the dotted line, other members of the Hanse were free to continue supplying the Danes. The Dutch cities, in particular Kampen on the Ijssel, then one of the largest trading centres in the low countries saw no reason to toe the line laid down by Lübeck. Kampen traders kept bringing the salt of Bourgneuf to Skane so that herring could still be pickled and could still be shipped to Europe.

Kampen (much later during the little Ice Age)

Even more irritating than the breaking of the blockade was the gradual backing out of the princely allies. Initial commitments to provide armies and undertake separate attacks were watered down into mere financial support. Only the count of Holstein still promised to attack Jutland and the King of Sweden promised an army for the siege of the great new castles built on the Oresund.

In April 1362 a fleet of 52 ships, of which 27 were the larger cogs set off for Copenhagen. Up to this point any military activity of the Hanseatic League had been undertaken in the context of a larger war. The cities provided auxiliaries, transport and occasionally warships. But they would usually operate under the command of an aristocratic general. This time there is no territorial lord who takes command. The expedition is led by a merchant, the Bürgermeister of Lübeck, Johann Wittenborg.

Wittenborg was typical for his class. His father had already been a citizen of Lübeck and a member of the city council. The family’s wealth came from trade and Johann had cut his teeth on the classic route from the Northern Baltic to Flanders and England.

That means he is likely to have received a thorough education in how to defend himself with a sword and lance, a skill eminently necessary for survival in the wilds of Finland or Russia. He would also have become a proficient sailor and leader of his ship’s company. The merchants of the Hanse fall broadly into two categories, the shippers and the traders.

A shipper would usually own a share in the ship, normally about 15 to 25% and would be in charge of the vessel and the crew. There would also be a Steuermann, a sailing master who would be in charge of the more technical aspects of sailing. Alongside the shipper were the normal merchants who would also own a share in the ship but would be simple passengers during the voyage. Being the shipper was generally the more lucrative position.

The shipper could bring both his own goods and goods from other traders who did not come along for the journey. Freight rates were generally very high given the risks and uncertainties of sea travel and depended on the value of the cargo. For instance, freight rates for grain from Danzig to Bruges were 48% of the value of the merchandise, Rye 68%, Salt 66% and wood 79%. For the even more perilous and long journey bringing salt from Portugal to Bruges it was 85%. Freight rates for luxury goods like wine, cloth and spices were more like 10%, still a good deal for the shipper given the much higher value of the merchandise.

So, if you wanted to be rich, you wanted to be a shipper. We do not know whether Johann Wittenborg was a shipper, we only know that he was rich. But these things go together so it is likely he had a lot of experience in running and managing large vessels full of valuable cargo.

But what he is unlikely to have received is the kind of thorough education in military strategy and tactics the sons of lords and princes received. That was the reason why the mayors of the Hanseatic cities had until now let others take command in war.

In the 1362 campaign there were no others, or it may have been that both Wittenborg himself and his fellow councillors and city mayors believed that it was time for the Hansards to step out of the shadows and take control of military operations themselves.

So Wittenborg, 41 years old and brimming with confidence sets off to tear down the fortresses Waldemar had built on the Oresund. His 27 cogs and 25 smaller ships were merchant vessels just marginally altered to carry soldiers.

Cog

We are still in a period where there are no guns on ships. Therefore, there was no need to have warships with much stronger hulls and openings for cannons. Sea-battles where they were fought involved ramming and then boarding the enemy vessel.

Bows and crossbows were the only distance weapons available, meaning engagements were taking place at very close quarters. It is likely that this form of naval warfare resulted in ships with ever higher constructions on the bow and stern  from where bowmen could rain arrows down on the enemy’s deck.  

The 1362 campaign did not envisage any major naval battles, mainly because Waldemar had no navy. For the last century the Hanseatic and other merchants had monopolised the Danish sea trade, meaning there were few Danish merchants and even fewer Danish sea-going ships.

The plan was to take the castles on the seashore. In the absence of guns, taking a castle, even one right on the seashore, meant that the ship’s company would disembark and then pursue a siege pretty much like any land army would do.

The ships’ job was to block attempts to resupply the besieged from the sea. When Wittenborg arrived at the Oresund he had counted on his ally, the king of Sweden to bring along his army so that the combined forces could take either Copenhagen or one of the other big castles, Malmo, Falsterbo, Skanor or Helsingborg.

For the Swedes Helsingborg was the best option as it was on the eastern, that means on their side of the Oresund and furthest away from the other three castles.

For Wittenborg it was the least attractive, being the furthest away from his position and required him to pass the Danish defences in Copenhagen, Malmo and Falsterbo before getting there.

But the need for Swedish troops trumped the concerns of the league commander. Helsingborg it was to be.

Imagine Wittenberg’s disappointment when he finds that the king Magnus of Sweden too had softened in his determination to take revenge on King Waldemar Dawn. What kept the Swedish ruler from keeping his promise was probably that Visby had thrown out the Danes in the winter of 1361/62 which removed the immediate threat to Sweden. And at the same time duke Albrecht of Mecklenburg was stirring up trouble at home which two years later would result in an uprising, an invasion and the removal of said king of Sweden.

King Magnus Ericsson

So, the Swedes did not show, leaving Johann Wittenborg carrying the can. The sensible thing would have been to sail back and curse the treacherous swedes all along the way. But in this case the oh so sober Hanseatic merchants did not do the sensible thing. Instead, they did a silly thing.

They disembarked the majority of the soldiers and commenced a traditional siege of Helsingborg. The siege lasted 12 weeks until Waldemar staged a daring raid on the poorly guarded Hanseatic warships in the Oresund. He gathered his men, rowed across the barely six miles from Zealand to Helsingborg and captured 12 of the precious vessels laden with supplies and weapons.

That put an inglorious end to this first military expedition of the Hanseatic League. Johann Wittenborg signed an onerous armistice with Waldemar and returned his much-diminished fleet to Lübeck.

The blame for the debacle was squarely put on Wittenborg. He was thrown out of the city council as soon as he arrived. Then he was brought before the court. What specifically he was accused of is not reported. His conviction was for letting the ships be captured and for “other reasons specific to him”.  He was beheaded “pour encourager les autres”

The defeat took literally the wind out of the sails of the Hanseatic League. The negotiations for a permanent settlement with Waldemar dragged on until 1365 and left both sides deeply dissatisfied.

The cities squabbled over the cost of the failed campaign and the lost ships. There was serious concern the unity of the “common merchants of the empire” could fall apart. But it did not.

Despite the defeat there was still a lot left the alliance provided to its members, first and foremost the Kontors. In 1366 the cities got together in another assembly, a full Hansetag in Lübeck and fundamentally reorganised the Kontors.

Instead of individual merchants, the Kontors were now to be run by representatives of certain cities on behalf of the whole. That gave these cities an important stake in the well-being of the organisation whilst at the same time bringing them under a degree of supervision from their peers.

And another thing helped. King Waldemar Dawn, otherwise an incredibly astute politician fell victim to the sin of pride.

He was now 43 years old and had been on the throne of Denmark for 23 years. In that time he had almost single handedly rebuilt his kingdom from literally nothing into the dominant power in the Baltic. He had expanded Danish rule into Oland and Gotland effectively controlling all the trade that came west. He had forced the citizens of Visby to fill up three barrels one with gold, one with silver and one with jewels and taken this treasure home in triumph.

And last but not least he had defeated a menacing alliance of his enemies, including the immensely wealthy Wendish and Pomeranian cities.

Between 1362 and 1367, Wldemar Dawn acted as the lord of the Baltic, charging taxes and tolls as he liked. When captains refused to pay or even just protested, he had their ships confiscated. He did that not just to the his former enemies, but also to his former allies the Dutch merchants as well as  the ships of the Teutonic Knights who were an entirely different kettle of fish.

These harassments pushed the Hanseatic cities and the Teutonic knights closer together. Meanwhile Albrecht of Mecklenburg had replaced the unreliable Magnus on the throne of Sweden, with a bit of help from some Hanseatic cities.

Albrecht was unsurprisingly interested in the reconquest of Skane and its herring market that Waldemar had taken back in 1360. The counts of Holstein did not need an invitation, nor did the Danish barons who were all still smarting from the loss of their land, power and influence by Waldemar’s hand.

But this time Lübeck and its allies had learned from their mistakes in 1362. This time the city alliance needed to be acting as one. No more blockade runners would be allowed. And this time the fleet needs to be of a size and power that can get the job done without having to rely on unreliable Swedes.

In 1367 the representatives of the Hanseatic cities gathered for a general Hansetag in Cologne. The first and only time a Hansetag took place in Cologne.

This Tagfahrt as the Hansards called their negotiations has over time gained a near mythical status in Hanseatic history. Apart from the unusual location, the participants were also much broader than on previous and future occasions.

The Dutch cities, including Kampen that spearheaded the smuggling of contraband during the first war against Waldemar made an appearance. But not only them but also other North Sea cities including  a famous pilgrimage site where one could see a holy host that had been vomited up and burned but had still remained intact. That city, founded in 1300 or 1306 and whose fortunes were dependent upon the 90,000 pilgrims who came to see this piece of unleavened and undying bread was none other than the city of Amsterdam.

Still today on the night of the 15th of March the Catholics of Amsterdam gather for the Stille Omgang, the silent procession around the place of the former pilgrimage church to venerate the now lost proof of divine presence.

But what the Hansards wanted from Amsterdam was not just the help such a holy relic could certainly provide, but also their and their fellow North Sea dwellers commitment to respect the blockade. Getting this commitment prove difficult to get, even from Bremen and Hamburg, mainly because they had no beef with king Waldemar. The negotiators had to resort to the threat of Verhansung, the expulsion from the association to get them in line.  

What the cities agreed in 1367 was a true change in the nature of their organisation. Until now they were a loose cooperation focused mainly on maintaining the privileges in the Kontors and mutual support against pirates, raiders and other unpleasantness.

What they ended up with now would be come known as the Cologne Confederation, a true league of cities. Something that was actually prohibited by imperial law, but in 1367 nobody north of the Main River cared much about the emperor.

The resolution issued at the end of the assembly was exceptionally detailed to avoid these internal squabbles that happened after 1362. Every city committed to a specific number of ships and soldiers. An elaborate system of taxation was set up that closed the loopholes in the previous export tax regime. They set the dates and places where and when the armada should assemble.

What sets the Cologne confederation further apart is the last clause. This agreement was not made just for this campaign but was to remain in place for 3 years after the conclusion of the war. As it happened the Cologne Confederation was prolonged several times and held until 1385.

To ensure full cooperation between all the cities, the months following the deliberations were taken up by negotiations with those cities that had not participated in the general assembly in Cologne. Every single city of German merchants from the Gulf of Finland to the mouth of the Rhine agreed to enforce the blockade and support the campaign.

The Teutonic knights signed up as well and the enemies of Waldemar made firm commitments that this time, they would actually fight.

The only significant player in the northern theatre that sided with Waldemar was Haakon VI, king of Norway and son in law of Waldemar. Haakon had married Margaret, Waldemar’s younger daughter. The elder one was married to Henry of Mecklenburg, brother of the king of Sweden and son of the Duke of Mecklenburg.

The allies were getting ready for war and the Hanseatic cities were even sending embassies to the pope, the emperor and other powers far and wide to gain approval for their plan.

The only one who appeared completely unconcerned by all that activity was Waldemar himself. He left Denmark literally at the time the Hanseatic fleet set off for Seeland. Waldemar’s plan was to gather allies amongst the princes of Northern Germany. For that purpose he had taken along vast amounts of cash and whilst abroad demanded more to be sent to him.

I do not want to spread conspiracy theories about long dead Danish heroic figures, but this looks to me more like Waldemar knew exactly what was going on, did a quick calculation of the odds and smart cooky he was, scarpered with as much cash as he could carry to retire on the French Riviera.

In the absence of their military and political leader, Denmark did not stand a chance. The counts of Holstein and the Danish insurrectionists took Jutland, King Albrecht of Sweden reconquered Skane. The Dutch cities attacked Waldemar’s ally, the king of Norway who caved almost immediately.

The Hanseatic fleet, led by Lubeck’s new Burgermeister, Brun Warendorp gathered as planned between the 9th and 16th of April 1368 at the Gellen off the island of Hiddensee. From here they sailed to Copenhagen. The city fell on June 16th, its defences flattened, and the castle taken over as the headquarter for the next phase of operations.

In cooperation with the Swedish allies all castles along the eastern shore of the Oresund fell. Only the mighty fortress of Helsingborg, the site of the terrible defeat of the Hanse in 1362 held out for almost another year.

In November 1369 a delegation of the Danish royal council led by Henning von Putbus, the lord of the island of Rügen came to Stralsund to sue for peace.

This, the second naval campaign of the Hanseatic League had been a complete success. 

Putbus and his colleagues knew that the war was lost for good but hoped that by negotiating with the Hansa directly, they could avoid the complete annihilation of Denmark. Remember that barely 25 years earlier the kingdom had been divided up between the Swedes, the Holsteiners and the rebellious nobles and the king lived in a hovel on Lolland. And these guys are still around, are the allies of the League and intent to go right back to the situation before the recovery that had started in 1340.

The stakes for the Danes could not have been higher. And their fearless leader, Waldemar, dawn of the Danish kingdom, was nowhere to be seen. Probably a good thing, because what happens next is a masterclass in diplomacy only matched by Talleyrand recovering France’s role as a major European power at the Congress of Vienna.

Sadly no image of Henning von Putbus survived

Putbus needed to split the enemy alliance. And to do that he had to play on the fundamental differences in his opponents’ objectives.

90% of what the Hanseatic League cared about was commerce. The cities had no interest in acquiring and then administering large territories. Politically they had had only one big concern, they did not want to see the emergence of a dominant territorial power in the Baltic.

On the flipside, the kings, princes and lords who had allied with the Hanse were 90% focused on politics, namely on the acquisition of territory. Commerce was something they cared little about.

The Hanse’s fear of an all-powerful king in the Baltic was entirely rational. Such a ruler could roll back the various trading privileges the merchants had patiently acquired not just in the Kontors but also in the hinterlands of the cities, in Sweden, in Mecklenburg, Pomerania, Denmark and Holstein. Worse, the cities themselves were in a precarious situation as most weren’t free imperial cities but still nominally subjects of a territorial lord.

That is why in 1340 the Hanse supported Waldemar against the mighty Count Gerhard of Holstein and the Danish nobles and once Waldemar had become dominant in 1360, turned against him. Following the defeat of the Danes, the power that caused the most headaches for the Hanse was the duke of Mecklenburg and his dynasty.

Albrecht II had been duke of Mecklenburg since 1329 which made him the theoretical overlord of Rostock and Wismar. He had married Euphemia of Sweden and in 1364 he had managed to put his son, Albrecht III on the throne of Sweden. Albrecht II then married another one of his sons, Henry, to the eldest daughter of Waldemar Dawn, and they had a son, confusingly also called Albrecht, this one taking the number IV.

In other words, if Waldemar was completely taken off the board, the family of the old duke of Mecklenburg were to become kings of Denmark, Sweden, Norway on top of being Dukes of Mecklenburg. That was a distinctly uncomfortable prospect for the Hanseatic League.

What made it even more uncomfortable was that the Mecklenburgers immediate objective was to take full control of Skane and its herring market. Meanwhile the Holsteiners insisted on the acquisition of territory in Jutland, making them even more of a threat to the important trade route from Lübeck to Hamburg.

Putbus saw this rift between the allies and began to systematically exploit it. Since the allies had agreed not to sign a peace treaty with Denmark unless all parties had agreed, the Danes proposed to negotiate secretly with the Hanse. The moment the cities decided to listen the alliance was broken.

Putbus then offered the Hanse all the commercial privileges they could possibly want, but none of the political concessions the Mecklenburgs and Holsteins were after. That was a major sacrifice that would deprive the crown of a significant chunk of income, but it meant that the crown of Denmark would continue to exist.

Specifically, the Danes were prepared to grant the following:

  • Free trade in Denmark and Skane for all Hanseatic cities that had joined the Cologne Confederation in exchange for a modest fixed tax.
  • That Merchants gain the right of salvage. It was so far common practice that if a vessel suffered damage and sank, any goods that could be rescued were property of the territorial lord. This was changed, allowing a merchant to salvage his own goods.
  • Third, the great herring market in Falsterbo came under more or less direct control of the Hanse. The cities were given individual plots of land, the Vitte, where they could maintain their business. They were allowed to trade from ship to ship, in all merchandise, wholesale and retail and could use their own barges and wagons for transportation, even could sent their own fishing fleet.
  • And fourth, the German merchants in Denmark were allowed to form their own communities, elect their representatives and exercise justice.

To back up these privileges and to allow the cities to regain the moneys lost, Putbus handed over the four great fortresses on the Oresund, Helsingborg, Malmo, Skanoer and Falsterbo for a period of 15 years. The Hanseatic League was to keep 2/3rd of the toll on all shipping going through the Oresund. And finally, the Danish council promised to make the election of a new king of Denmark dependent upon the consent of the cities.

In return Waldemar could return to his throne and Denmark would not be dismembered. Even Skane, at this point occupied by Albrecht of Mecklenburg, the king of Sweden, was to come back to Denmark.

These concessions granted the Hanseatic League a monopoly in the Baltic trade. Holding the Oresund castles meant they could block any foreign traders from getting into the Baltic Sea.

The wide range of privileges in the herring markets made it virtually impossible for anyone, including the locals to compete. And they were given the keys to the kingdom of Denmark.

In 1370 these clandestine discussions were brought into the open when Putbus arrived with 25 of Denmark’s most important nobles in Stralsund to sit down for final negotiations.

This meeting was all for show, since the terms had been agreed weeks if not months earlier.

The last obstacles were obviously the consents of the allies, the Holsteiners and in particular the Mecklenburgers. The Holsteiners could seemingly been bullied into accepting the terms. Long gone are the days of the mighty count Gerhard.

The Mecklenburgers were a bit more difficult. The agreement was quite obviously aimed against them. The duke would later claim that no attempt was made to gain his consent. But there was no real pushback. Sweden even handed over Skane to the Danes and Hansards.

What forced their hand was unrest in Sweden as the supporters of the exiled king Magnus conspired against Albrecht of Mecklenburg, a topic we will return to soon.

The fact that the Mecklenburger had to accept the peace of Stralsund shows how much the power of the Hanse had increased since the time of the Black Death. The league was now a serious European power. The confederation of Cologne had forged them together into an entity that could quickly raise a powerful navy able to project power anywhere in the Baltic and the North Sea. And as grain providers of last resort, they held a sword over the heads of even the mightiest kings, princes and lords.

Next week we will talk a bit more about this period when the League is riding high.

Great success does not always mean that life become more comfortable. The rise in Hanseatic power and their excessive privileges makes many kings and princes uncomfortable. In 1388 three of the most important powers in Northern Europe, England, Flanders and Russia challenge the Hanse simultaneously. If you want to know how that plays out, join us again next week.

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

And just to remind you, the sub-podcast The Hanseatic League is still running. So if you want to point a friend or relative towards the History of the Germans but want to avoid confusion, just send them there. The Hanseatic League is available everywhere you can get the History of the Germans.

And last but not least the bibliography.

For this episode I again relied heavily on:

The Peace of Stralsund by David K. Bjoerk, in Speculum, Vol. 7 No.4 (Oct. 1932) The Peace of Stralsund, 1370 on JSTOR

Erich Hoffmann: Konflikte und Ausgleich mit den Scandinavischen Reichen in Die Hanse, Lebenswirklichkeit und Mythos, herausgegeben von Jürgen Bracker, Volker Henn and Rainer Postel

Philippe Dollinger: Die Hanse

Rolf Hammel-Kieslow: Die Hanse

Waldemar Atterdag’s attack on Gotland

By the end of the 13th century the key foundations of the Hanseatic League are laid. The trade routes that connect the Baltic to Western Europe are largely under the control of merchants who had come from Northern Germany and settled along the Baltic shore. Four great Kontors in Novgorord, Bergen, Bruges and London have been set up. The cities that make up the League, from Tallin to Cologne have gained city laws, built their walls and selected their city councils.

We are now entering the Calamitous 14th Century, a time of war, spiritual disorientation, plague and deteriorating climate. These four riders of the apocalypse devastate formerly flourishing lands and cities across Western Europe, delivering a sucker punch that brings 300 years of economic expansion to a screeching halt. But, as they say in Asterix, “all of europe is occupied with the challenges of the 14th century. Well not entirely. There is a corner of the world where a league of merchant cities is heading for the zenith of its economic, financial and military power…”

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 115 – The War with Denmark Part I

By the end of the 13th century the key foundations of the Hanseatic League are laid. The trade routes that connect the Baltic to Western Europe are largely under the control of merchants who had come from Northern Germany and settled along the Baltic shore. Four great Kontors in Novgorord, Bergen, Bruges and London have been set up. The cities that make up the League, from Tallin to Cologne have gained city laws, built their walls and selected their city councils.

We are now entering the Calamitous 14th Century, a time of war, spiritual disorientation, plague and deteriorating climate. These four riders of the apocalypse devastate formerly flourishing lands and cities across Western Europe, delivering a sucker punch that brings 300 years of economic expansion to a screeching halt. But, as they say in Asterix, “all of europe is occupied with the challenges of the 14th century. Well not entirely. There is a corner of the world where a league of merchant cities is heading for the zenith of its economic, financial and military power…”

Before we get into this fascinating subject it is time to do my little plea for support again. As the History of the Germans has grown and grown these last two years, it has also taken up more and more of my life. That is great for me, because I massively enjoy doing this, but it is bad news for my cash balance, since all that fun keeps me from other money generating activities. I have been offered a not insignificant boost to my income if I were to allow advertising in the show, an offer I have rejected.

Which means the podcast remains advertising free and even more dependent on the support from my lovely patrons. I really appreciate the support you guys provide and am extremely grateful. And if anyone of you who is not yet a patron and wants to bask in all that appreciation and gratitude, you can do so by signing up on patreon.com/historyofthegermans or on my website, historyofthegermans.com/support. All that from the price of a chocolate Croissant per month which isn’t even good for you. And thanks a lot to Brian W., Ian R., Richard K. and Pietya who have already signed up.

I guess it is time we re-anchor this story on the timeline. These last episodes we did look at how the various major trading routes of the Hanse got established and how they each developed during the 12th, 13th and 14th century. By and large I tried to get each of these stories to the middle of the 14th century which I think has worked out more or less, which means the podcast has now -after a mere 115 episodes officially progressed into the late Middle Ages – Yipee!!

That is sadly the last outburst of joy you are going to hear about the Calamitous 14th Century as Barbara Tuchman called it in her most famous book, the Distant Mirror. I know that her take on the period has suffered a lot of criticism over the years, and that some of her assessments are no longer standing up to historical scrutiny. But still it is an exceptionally well written book and some of her elementary notions about the 14th century are still valid.

To summarise it, the 14th century was not great.

It was particularly not great of you were French. The Hundred-Years war kicks off in 1337 and brings death, famine and misery to Northern and South-Western France. What kept the devastation going for so long was the combination of England’s superiority in open battles and her complete inability to hold on to the territorial gains in a country many times larger and many times richer than itself. The unending conflict created mercenary troops that roamed the land even during periods when the parties were at least officially at peace.

Meanwhile the transfer of the papacy from Rome to Avignon and hence under the control of the French monarch was seen as a travesty by contemporaries. Things got worse when Saint Caterine of Siena – famous for an obsession with blood and Jesus’ foreskin – galvanised public opinion to the point that pope Gregory XI returned to Rome. Once arrived the pope promptly died, resulting in a schism where the cardinals in Avignon and those in Rome each elected a pope. Attempts to resolve the situation by making both popes stand down and elect a new one resulted in three competing popes.

We may not regard this as overly concerning but for the medieval mind that was a catastrophe. Choosing the wrong pope could result in being cast down into the sixth circle of hell trapped in flaming tombs. You may find yourself in august company, for instance Frederick II is supposed to reside here, but it still sounds quite uncomfortable.

Overshadowing all this was the great scourge of the 14th century, The Black Death. It first appeared in Europe in 1346, brought in most likely by Genoese traders who had picked it up during the siege of their colony of Caffa in Crimea (pronounce Kri-moia). Allegedly the besieging Mongols had brought the plague from central Asia. When their soldiers had succumbed to the disease their corpses were trebucheted into the town to force its surrender. Caffa unfortunately resisted the siege and the returning Genoese distributed the disease across the Mediterranean.

The Black Death is caused by the bacterium Yersinia Pestis, a fact that was only discovered in 1894 by two scientist operating independently, the Frenchman Alexandre Yersin and the Japanese bacteriologist Kitasato Shibasaburo. In 1898 it was discovered that the main vector of transmission were fleas who moved between rodents and humans.

The effects of an infection with Yarsinia Pestis is devastating. There are three types of Plague the bacteria causes. The most famous is the Bubonic Plague that manifests in bubuoes, a swelling of the Lymph nodes mainly in the groin and the armpits.

But there are also the Pneumonic Plague and the Septicaemic Plague which have less obvious symptoms, which is why we hear of people dying literally mid-sentence. 30-60% of those affected by Bubonic Plague die if left untreated whilst 100% of those who catch Pneumonic or Septicaemic Plague do not make it. Fun fact about Pneumonic Plague, you do not need a flea for that. Simple inhalation of a respiratory droplet of a patient with Pneumonic Plague can result in infection and guaranteed death.

Today plague is less of a problem if identified early and treated with antibiotics, but in the 14th century nobody knew about the miraculous attributes of Penicillium Rubens and so the only effective way to manage the disease was quarantine. And even that often failed, as the vectors were fleas, not humans.

How many died is a subject of debate, which is unsurprising since there was no census of the population before and after. I get the impression that most calculation revert back to the contemporary estimate of 1/3rd of the population.

But the impact varied considerably between different places. Milan was less affected than Tuscany, though why that was is not obvious. More obvious is the fact that Communities that live in close proximity, in particular monasteries were very heavily affected. Often 80-90% of the brothers and sisters perished. On the other hand, the elites who had the ability to flee into the countryside, like the 7 young women and three young men in Bocaccio’s Decameron, appear to have had a mortality of only about a quarter.

For our friends, the Hanseatic League, good news was it took 3 years from the first reported cases in Messina in Sicily until the disease took hold in Scandinavia and another year to make it to Poland.

But when it came, it came with force. In 1350 the city Council of Bremen ordered to list the names of everyone who had died from the Plague and collected 6,966 names. Add to that an estimated 1,000 unknown corpses and assuming the city had about 12,000-15,000 inhabitants at the time, more than half fell victim to the disease. Hamburg reported the death of 12 out of its 34 bakers, 18 of its 40 butchers, 27 out of its 50 civil servants and a staggering 16 out of 21 members of its council. Similarly, Lübeck, Wismar, Reval and Lüneburg reported death rates of 30% and more amongst the members of their city councils.

To top of the horrors of the 14th century, the constant warfare, the spiritual disorientation and plague there was climate change. The great medieval warming period is coming to an end. Instead of a constant tailwind to its economic progress, Western Europe now has to deal with a consistent headwind that will peak in the little Ice Age between 1600 and 1800.

Food security was already on the edge before the cooling period started as we have seen when we looked at the great eastern migration from the population centres in Flanders, Holland and the Rhineland, but what we have now is a society that is constantly just one bad harvest away from wide-spread famine.

I guess we can conclude that the 14th century is a pretty bad time to be alive.

I was in France on Holiday this summer and on the way down we stopped in Beauvais, a city of 50,000 just north of Paris. The reason to stop in Beauvais is its absolutely heart stopping cathedral. It is Frances tallest cathedral with a Nave that rises 47m above the ground. To put that in context, Milan cathedral has a 45m high nave, Notre Dame in Paris rises 35 metres, Winchester a mere 24 metres. And even more astounding, the Nave of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome built centuries later also falls 1m short of this medieval skyscraper. But here is the rub, the church was never finished. The combined effects of plague and the 100 years war devastated the rich cloth industry of the town and there was never enough money to complete the edifice. Where the main part of the church should have been built stands the 10th century old cathedral looking positively tiny next to its ambitious intended replacement. Little illustrates so clearly both the immense economic growth during the so-called static Middle Ages and the abruptness with which it came to an end.

But hey, for once, we find ourselves on the lucky side of history. Sure, the citizens of the great Hanseatic cities did not escape the plague, bad weather, wars and the papal schism, but they did work through it a lot better than the beaten-up citizens of Beauvais.

The reason the Hanseatic cities got through the challenges of the 14th century are manyfold. The first one is that apart from losing some money on the crowns of Edward III, their involvement in the 100 year’s war was almost zero.

The same seems to have applied for the schism. The Empire and Scandinavia stuck largely with the Roman pope and hence there was less of the uncertainty that prevailed in the Western half of the continent where territories moved back and forth in their obedience and guidance about what to believe changed around all the time. I did try to find a reference to the schism in the secondary sources on the Hanse I am using and found a absolutely nothing.

Which gets us to the plague. Obviously, the fact that millions of customers had died, that their own cities had been depopulated and that many farms were running out of farmhands weren’t good bits of news.

But there were mitigating factors. Cities remained attractive, if only because they offered relief from servitude if you could hold out inside for a year. So many serfs and free peasants moved into the empty houses of the plague victims in the cities. We find that by the end of the 14th century the Hanseatic cities have regained their population size from the pre-plague times.

There was another, probably the only beneficial impact from the plague and that was a sustained shortage of labour, in particular farm labour and menial labour in cloth manufacturing and other manufacturing jobs. That meant the cost of labour increased significantly. There are various studies looking at data in England and France that suggest an increase in wages by somewhere between 30 and 50%, most of which was in real terms.

Daily wages in England by decade. Humphries & Weisdorf

That wage increase caused huge headaches for landowners who petitioned the local rulers to freeze wages. But even where that happened, such rules prove unenforceable since labourers simply scampered off. So real pay levels were going up, allegedly for the first and only time in premodern history.

That is good news for workers, but it is also great news for long distance traders, specifically for the Hanseatic Merchants.  Their main export products were food, in particular grain and fish. Before the plague only the cheaper grain was sold to labourers whilst the other goods went to burgers and the rich. After the plague, once these poor labourers had a few more pennies in their pockets, could they buy some fine Baltic Herring and wash it down with an even finer pint of Einbecker beer – best in the world.

And even for the luxury products, beeswax, pelts, Flemish cloth and wine, the market wasn’t seemingly so bad. The dramatic surge in religious devotion after the plague should have led to a surge in demand for the finest Beeswax from Novgorod to appease an apparently enraged deity.

And the rapid demise of many rich men and women caused a rapid redistribution of wealth. These newly minted millionaires were oh so well aware of the fragility of life. And since the plague came back in regular intervals many thought best thing to do was to spend it all as long as one is still alive.

It is in the middle of the 14th century that fashion in the true sense emerges. This is when we see proper tailoring for the first time. Until now most expensive dresses were essentially robes with straight seams and a lot of adornment. Now we see curved seams that allow the creation of tight-fitting trousers and shirts.

A French chronicler writes that around the year 1350, i.e., immediately after the first wave of the Plague, that quote “men, in particular, noblemen and their squires, took to wearing tunics so short and tight that they revealed what modesty bids us hide.” 

Hanseatic merchants did not only bring the cloth and the knowledge of how to create this new look to Scandinavia and Northern Germany, they also brought the fur needed to line the elegant coats worn over their Cotehardie, the body-hugging upper garment.

Finally, what really made the Hanseatic Merchants indispensable was in the times when things got tough. A bad harvest could easily tip the cities of Flanders, Northern France or England into outright famine. The hinterland of the Hanseatic cities, even though their production is likely to have declined due to labour shortage and the deteriorating climate, still produced a surplus above local demand. And that surplus became a lifeline during the regularly occurring outbreaks of famine.

Bottom line is that the 14th century was by no means a time of decline and desperation for the Hanseatic League. It was in fact the time when it reached the zenith of its power, wealth and influence. They turned a challenge into an opportunity to use my most cringeworthy management consulting speak.

All these smart ways to keep your head above water and avoid the pitfalls of the treacherous 14th century did however rarely feature in the histories of the Hanseatic League I read as a child.

What I found there were the heroic deeds of the men of Lübeck, Rostock and Wismar fighting a war at sea against the mighty king of Denmark, Waldemar Dawn. A lot of swords clinging and daring raids by gallant apprentices seemed a lot more exciting than the economics of grain.

And these things happened. But the way they came about say a lot about the way the merchant princes of the Hanse thought about war and how that so fundamentally differed from the way their royal and ducal neighbours perceived it.

The neighbours that matter most to the Hanseatic League were the power centres around the Baltic, foremost the Kingdom of Denmark, but also the strengthening kingdom of Sweden as well as that of Norway. And on the southern shore we have the Teutonic Knights, the dukes of Pomerania and of Mecklenburg, the margrave of Brandenburg and the counts of Holstein.

Though Denmark was nominally the largest, richest and most powerful of them, the century between 1241 to 1340 was one of decline and almost complete disintegration of the kingdom. The successors of the two great Waldemars, one called Abel and then various Eriks and Christophers, displayed a truly astounding level of infighting, murder, recklessness and incompetence.

Waldemar II’s eldest son king Erik IV Ploughpenny was murdered when he was a guest at his younger brother Abel’s house.

King Erik IV Ploughpenny

So, Abel became king but lasted only a year and a half before he was killed by a rebellious peasant who was reluctant to pay the increased taxation.

King Abel

The next brother King Christopher I lasted 7 years but spent most of it in conflict with his nephew, the son of Abel. King Christopher I died unexpectedly after taking Holy Communion. Rumours were that he had been poisoned by an abbot in retaliation for his oppression of the church.

Christopher I

Christopher I’s son was king Eric V, called Eric Klipping, so called because of his habit to devalue the currency by clipping off a piece of the silver. Eric Clipping who had spent most of his early life as a prisoner of the counts of Holstein and the Margraves of Brandenburg started his reign by being captured and imprisoned by own his nobles. He continued his father’s conflict with the church and many of his nobles which resulted in him being murdered in 1286.

Erik Klipping

Next up is King Eric VI called Menved whose first act was to avenge his father’s death. He convicted a number of senior Danish nobles to exile and expropriation for the crime. The problem was that at least some of them might have been innocent, but more importantly that he let them live. They moved across to Sweden where they initiated a 30 year long guerilla war against king Eric VI that came with a side dish of piracy.

Unperturbed by this conflict, gallant King Eric VI tried to revive the dream of the two Waldemars to build a Scandinavian empire under Danish rule. He combined this ambition with a propensity for lavish expenditure, in particular for tournaments. One of those he held in Rostock under the eyes of the worried citizens who feared – with good reason – that the chivalric pursuit could at any moment turn into a bloody siege of the town.

Erik Menved

All of king Eric’s great adventures consumed a truly epic amount of cash. Taxation had risen all throughout this troubled period and was merciless. When a famine struck in 1315. King Eric refused to lower the nominal amount of tax to be paid resulting in a peasant revolt that cost even more to suppress than the outstanding taxes.  And a lot of the equally costly conflict with the church stemmed from the desire of the kings to collect taxes from the clergy.

When king Eric VI finally died in 1319 the crown went to his brother Christopher II who inherited a kingdom that was financially and morally bankrupt. Not only had the nobles and the church used the weakness of the various kings to establish themselves as the true masters of the kingdom, the constant infighting had also sucked in a lot of foreigners looking to take advantage of the chaos. This chaos by the way did not just engulf Denmark. Sweden and Norway too were riven with infighting and continuous succession crises.

There seem to have been two approaches for foreigners seeking a juicy chunk of Scandinavian territory.

One was the classic model of marriage alliances. That came usually with a dowry that could include important castles and lands in exchange for military support. Given that both Sweden and Denmark were at least formally an elective monarchy where legitimacy could be transferred through the female line, these marriage alliances had the added benefit of occasionally producing a viable contender for one of the Scandinavian crowns.

The three families that pursued this strategy most persistently and successfully were the dukes of Mecklenburg and Pomerania and the Margraves of Brandenburg. Pretty much all of the kings of Denmark I mentioned were married to daughters of these three or to another Scandinavian monarch’s offspring. This intermarriage within a relatively small pool actually added to the mess as it produced a near infinite supply of contenders on all sides.

The other approach was taken by the counts of Holstein. Though they too married their daughters into the royal families and took wives from there, their main approach was to offer military and financial assistance on credit, credit that was secured by mortgages. And these aren’t mortgages just over some bits of land, these were mortgages over whole counties or even duchies. 

Two Holstein Counts were most astute in this game. One was Gerhard III of Holstein Rendsburg and the other James of Holstein-Ploen. Having inherited comparatively small territories that had come about when the old county of Holstein was divided up, these two men seem to have been some sort of war entrepreneurs.

An early form of the Italian Condottiere of the 15th century who could raise and then rent out entire armies. King Eric VI was the Holsteiner’s best customer. Always fighting one war or another and hosting lavish tournaments, he ended up mortgaging more and more of his kingdom to the two counts.

Gerhard ended up with all of Jutland and Funen, whilst James gained Zeeland and the southern isles. If you know Denmark, that is pretty much all of it.

Seal of Gerhard III

Well, apart from Scania which at the time was still Danish, but not for long. The Holstein counts and the Danish magnates were quite happy with this situation and when Christopher II ascended to the ramshackle throne his brother left him, they made him sign a coronation charter that basically forbade him to do anything without their consent.

Christopher tried his darnedest to disregard these provisions and rebuild some royal power. So, the magnates and the Germans ousted him in 1326, formally raising one of the. King’s nephews to the throne, but de facto reigning without a king. This magnate’s republic did not work out too well as they all began squabbling amongst themselves.

Even the two Holstein counts got into a disagreement. That weakened the Danish state even more so that the peasants of Scania asked the Swedish king to assume control over them. Scania as you know is the territory on the eastern shore of the Oresund where the annual herring market takes place, the largest market for fish in a Europe that ate fish 140 days a year and the most important contributor to the coffers of the Hanseatic merchants.

Which is why they now get involved. The Oresund and the herring market in Scania is of crucial importance for the long-distance trade out of the Baltic.

One reason is the sheer scale of the Herring business. The other is geography. By the 14th century there were two established routes by which the goods from the Baltic could be transported westward to the important markets in Bruges and London. One was the land route via Lübeck and Hamburg. The other was to sail around Jutland which meant going through the Oresund. Keeping those lines open, safe and importantly avoiding high tariffs for the transit were of vital importance to the Hanse.

The way they achieved this so far had been through diplomacy. The Burgermeisters or mayors of the great Hanseatic cities as well as the other senior members of the city councils were experienced long distance traders. One of the skills they needed to get where they got to was negotiation. Knowing exactly what combination of price and conditions the other side could agree to was their second nature. They appreciated the importance of having more reliable and timely information than their adversaries and were able to think calmly through complex problems. Hence the time of the disintegration of the Scandinavian kingdoms was a walk in the park for the Hansards. They could play any side against any other in this game of three-dimensional chess and always walk away with improved trading privileges, lower taxes and promises of safe passage, be it from kings or from pirates or from kings that had become pirates or pirates that became kings.

The diplomatic effort was always underpinned with the threat of boycotts and embargoes. Whoever failed to respond to the softly, softly approach could suddenly find himself cut off from grain supply or unable to sell their goods into the European market.

And as a means of last resort, the Hanse was prepared to go to war. But only ever as a means of last resort. That is not out of cowardice. These men are used to dangerous journeys and the need to defend your goods and rights with the sword. They simply believed that war was rarely a profitable undertaking.

As the legendary Lübeck Bürgermeister Hinrich Castrop put it: “it is always easier to hoist the banner of war but a lot more costly taking it down in honour”

Lübeck did go to war when they supported the German princes against Waldemar II in the battle of Bornhoeved, and they helped king Abel to get on the throne by providing soldiers. But this was always based on a cold and level-headed calculation of the odds of success. None of the “For the Honour of the Kingdom once more into the breach” nonsense their aristocratic neighbours engaged in.

The other cases when the cities went to war was to defend themselves against the territorial princes. During the time of King Eric VI expensive war efforts in Northern Germany his allies tried to subdue the cities of Rostock and Wismar by siege. These sieges ended regularly with truces under which the burgers would pay off the city lord and swear allegiance. But nothing really changed and when King Eric’s money ran out the cities reverted back to the status quo ante.

So, everything is alright as far as the Hansards are concerned until the 1330s. After the debacle in Scania King Christopher II makes a comeback. The magnates and the Germans decide they need a unifying figure for the state and call him back to the throne. Christopher tries again to be a real king and exploits the divisions between the two Holstein counts.

He gets defeated in 1331. In the post-war settlement he is allowed to retain the title of king but without any power. He ends his days in a small house on Lolland to live in, lonely and forgotten. In 1332 he died a broken man.

After that Denmark has no king. Christopher II’s older sons, Eric and Otto die around the same time from wounds received in battle against the Holsteins. So, Count Gerhard of Holstein-Rendsburg becomes the de-facto ruler of Denmark.

That is a situation the Hanse is becoming uncomfortable with. Gerhard III still controlled one shore of the Oresund as well as the territory through which the wares moved between Luebeck and Hamburg. He was at least theoretically able to cut off both of the major trade routes out of the Baltic.

The two cities of Hamburg and Lubeck are trying to keep things on an even keel and agree to maintain the peace with the mighty count. But secretly they are trying to undermine his position. They host Gerhard’s enemies inside Luebeck where they are looking for ways to topple the Holsteiners and rebuild the Danish kingdom.

It seems that count Gerhard had realised that his situation was ultimately untenable. The cost of suppressing the regular uprisings against his rule exceeded the income from Jutland and Funen. Then there is a third son of king Christopher called Waldemar. This Waldemar had secured the support of his relatives, the margraves of Brandenburg for his bid to return the dynasty which gave the rebellion a focal point.

Count Gerhard was a war entrepreneur and not an aristocratic Hurrah Henry. He realised that the game was up and entered into negotiations trading the restoration of the Danish Monarchy against a permanent cessation of Schleswig to the Holsteins. Before these negotiations were concluded, count Gerhard of Holstein, ruler of Denmark was killed by insurgents.

That paved the way for one of medieval Denmark’s political geniuses, the aforementioned Waldemar, younger son of king Christopher II to be elected by the Danehof, the Danish parliament as king Waldemar V.

Waldemar V “Atterdag”

Nobody expected much from the 20-year old who had lived in exile at the imperial court for most of his childhood and adolescence. He was considered so insignificant that the magnates did not even bother asking him to sign a coronation charter.

But he managed to slowly but steadily rebuild the Danish monarchy. He looked after the pennies and when he had enough, he paid off the mortgages his father had taken over Jutland and then Seeland. As his power grew, he could use not just carrot but also stick, forcing the bishop of Roskilde to hand over the castle of Copenhagen where he established his new headquarters. Copenhagen was an excellent base to impose tariffs on the shipping that passed the Oresund.

He sold Estonia to the Teutonic knights, raising more money to pay off more mortgages. Gradually the last Holstein positions on Zealand and Funen fell, until only southern Schleswig remained in their hands.

In 1354 Waldemar IV, by now called Waldemar Dawn, the man who brought a new day to the kingdom of Denmark gathered all the nobles and made them sign a charter whereby they gave up all the rights they had amassed since the time of King Christopher II. Denmark was back in the game.

In 1360 he used a succession crisis in Sweden to take back Scania. To secure his flank against a Swedish counterattack Waldemar dawn took his army to Gotland and took Visby.

Visby, a member of the Hanseatic League, still an important city that had played a crucial role in its early history. That is the point where the Hanseatic League cannot take it any longer.

They had initially welcomed the rise of Waldemar Dawn as a counterweight to the Holsteiners. And when his position became stronger and stronger, they tried to negotiate with him. In particular they needed him to lower the tariffs through the Oresund, where he by now had built several castles including the mighty Helsingborg.

But this was one of those situations that had no diplomatic solution. King Waldemar needed the tax income from the Oresund to fund his rebuilding of the Danish state. There was no similar source of wealth in the kingdom than this apart from the Herring market in Falsterbo he now controlled and taxed as well.  

On the other side, the Hanseatic League could not accept free Danish control of the Oresund that would allow Dutch and English merchants to enter and trade on the same conditions in Falsterbo and even across the Baltic.

By now the Hanseatic League had turned from an association of merchants to an association of cities. There was not much difference between the two models since most Hanseatic cities were pure trading cities where the other guilds were of secondary importance.

But it still marked a change when the Hanseatic cities came together for their first Hansetag, their first official gathering in 1356, then to debate the sanctions against the city of Bruges we talked about in the episode about Bergen and Bruges.

The next one was in 1360 where the Wendisch cities, Luebeck, Wismar and Rostock decided to take on Waldemar. They formed an alliance with Waldemar’s enemies, the Holsteiners, King Magnus of Sweden, his son King Haakon of Norway as well as the Teutonic Knights.

A fleet was to sail out of Luebeck in the spring 1362 towards the Oresund. There they were to meet up with Swedish troops and take one of the mighty new fortresses Waldemar had built to control most valuable source of income.

The man who led the expedition was Johann Wittenberg, the Bürgermeister of Lübeck. Six months later half the ships will have sunk to the bottom of the sea and Johann Wittenberg will lose his head.

How this first major war of the Hanseatic League could go so badly wrong is subject of next week’s episode. That is when we get properly into the clanging of swords and the ramming of ships. I hope you will join us again.

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

And just to remind you, the sub-podcast The Hanseatic League is still running. So if you want to point a friend or relative towards the History of the Germans but want to avoid confusion, just send them there. The Hanseatic League is available everywhere you can get the History of the Germans.

And last but not least the bibliography. For this episode I again relied heavily on:

Erich Hoffmann: Konflikte und Ausgleich mit den Scandinavischen Reichen in Die Hanse, Lebenswirklichkeit und Mythos, herausgegeben von Jürgen Bracker, Volker Henn and Rainer Postel

Philippe Dollinger: Die Hanse

Rolf Hammel-Kieslow: Die Hanse

If like many of you, you are listening to this podcast on your morning or evening commute and you happen to live in London, you may be one of the 20 million souls going through Cannon Street Station every year. Few of them will be aware that under their feet lay the vestiges of the great Hanseatic Kontor in London that goes back to 1176. If people know about the Steelyard, it is mainly through the portraits of merchants painted by Holbein between 1532 and 1536 at a time when the Kontor had only about 60 years left.

But there is a lot to tell about this now vanished building, its inhabitants and trade. It is a story of infighting between the various cities that were still to officially form the Hanseatic league, of trading privileges granted to fund first a crusade and then the hundred year’s war, and it is also a great opportunity to introduce the oldest, largest and richest member of the Hanseatic League, the city of Cologne.

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 114 – The London Steelyard If like many of you, you are listening to this podcast on your morning or evening commute and you happen to live in London, you may be one of the 20 million souls going through Cannon Street Station every year. Few of them will be aware that under their feet lay the vestiges of the great Hanseatic Kontor in London that goes back to 1176. If people know about the Steelyard, it is mainly through the portraits of merchants painted by Holbein between 1532 and 1536 at a time when the Kontor had only about 60 years left.

But there is a lot to tell about this now vanished building, its inhabitants and trade. It is a story of infighting between the various cities that were still to officially form the Hanseatic league, of trading privileges granted to fund first a crusade and then the hundred year’s war, and it is also a great opportunity to introduce the oldest, largest and richest member of the Hanseatic League, the city of Cologne.

Before we start let me tell you that the History of the Germans Podcast is advertising free thanks to the generous support from patrons. And you can become a patron too and enjoy exclusive bonus episodes and other privileges from the price of a latte per month. All you have to do is sign up at patreon.com/historyofthegermans or on my website historyofthegermans.com. You find all the links in the show notes. And thanks a lot to Thomas L. , Emily K., Benedek V. and Heinrich von P.  who have already signed up.

Last week we talked about the two Kontors at Bergen and at Bruges. The Hanseatic Counting Houses or Kontors are the most visible manifestations of the League, an organisation that had no common foundation treaty, no statutes, no administration (at least not until 1556), no army, no treasury and no seal. They are like the tip of the iceberg that points to the mass of interconnections below the surface. They were also one of the key reasons first individual merchants and then whole cities wanted to be part of this association.

Being admitted to the Kontor of say Bruges meant that you could now trade freely with other foreigners on the greatest exchange in Europe, you were protected from local justice, nobody could call you out for a trial by combat. And even more tangible you paid either no or much reduced tariffs on the wares you imported or exported and you could have them weighed by the Kontor, a place you trusted a lot more than the local scales.

There were in total four major Kontors, Novgorod, Bergen, Bruges and London. Beyond that there were others, for instance in Oslo or Smolensk, but they were either small or short-lived. Today we are going to talk about the one closest to our Anglo-Saxon listeners’ heart, the Steelyard or Stahlhof in London.

The Kontor in London goes back to the year 1176 when King Henry II of England declares quote: “Henry, by the grace of God king of England, duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, count of Anjou to all his viscounts and baillies of London – greetings. I hereby allow the people of Cologne to sell their wine on the same market where the French wine is sold, and at a price of 3 pence per pint. And I prohibit anyone from hindering them or doing them any harm”. End quote.

In a second ordinance he grants them the right to set up their Guildhall where they themselves and all their wares should be protected. That guildhall is the steelyard.

And note that this privilege is not given to all the merchants of the Holy Roman empire or the Gotlandfahrer or the Hanseatic League, but only to the people from Cologne and only for their import of wine. I am not the expert on Cologne, that is Willem Fromm over at the History of Cologne Podcast.

But as an avid listener of the History of the Germans you are sure familiar with it. One of Germany’s oldest cities, a metropolis since the days of ancient Rome, Cologne in the 12th century was the largest settlement in the empire north of the Alps. Its citizens lay in almost perpetual conflict with their overlord, the archbishop of Cologne and had achieved a significant level of independence already. They would gain even more freedoms after the battle of Worringen in 1288 and by 1475 Cologne had become a free imperial city.

In 1259 the archbishop Konrad of Hochstaden granted Cologne the right of the Staple. That meant that any merchant who passed by the city was required to unload his goods and offer them for sale on its market. Given Cologne’s position along the North-South route from Italy to England and the East west route from France onto the Hellweg and further on into Poland and the Baltic, Cologne’s market was the place to find almost anything that was traded in Europe. Cologne merchants sat at the centre of it and thanks to right of the staple could become the intermediaries of Northern European commerce.

Apart from that role as a broker, they also brought in products from the surrounding areas. There was the steel produced in the Sauerland and the Westerwald they bought up for either further distribution or to be turned into swords and armour in the city itself. The great reliquary of the three kings attests to the quality of the gold and silversmiths in the region whose products graced churches in many parts of Northern Europe.

When you think of things Cologne is famous for today, it is Carnival and drinking copious amounts of the delicious straw-yellow beer called Kölsch. So, was that also one of the main exports? As it happens no. For two reasons, one is the obvious. Kölsch is served in small 200ml glasses because it goes off incredibly quickly. And the other even more compelling reason is that it only got going properly in the 17th century.

But alcohol is not far off the mark. The by far largest business of the merchants of Cologne was in what they called the wine of the Rhine. This was the mainly white wine not just from the classic Rheingau and Rheinhessen region between Bonn and Speyer, but included the valleys of the tributaries, the Ahr, Moselle, Saar, Ruwer and Main and even further upriver.

The largest supply actually came in from Alsace. Alsace wine was amongst the most popular across Northern Europe and the quantities were astounding. We hear that the region around Colmar produced as much as 100,000 hectolitres of the stuff in the 14th century. That is 13 million bottles. Today the whole of Alsace produces 150 million bottles, but one has to take into account not just improved agricultural technologies but also the fact that Europe’s population has grown by factor 15 since then.

The trade in wine was not only massive, it was also ancient. In 1878 workmen discovered an ancient Roman funerary monument in the village of Neumagen on the Moselle. The monument comprised two stone ships, each 3m long carrying barrels of wine. Scaled up these ships were about 17m long carrying 22 oars and 44 rowers. Given their size and shape, it is believed such a ship was suitable to transport wine not just on the Moselle and Rhine Rivers but even on the North Sea, which means that at least theoretically the export of Moselle Wine to England goes back to the 3rd century or even earlier.

The Cologne merchants had a stranglehold over the trade. They had established a purchasing model where they would themselves travel south to buy the wine and then ship the barrels up to Cologne and from there to the main export destinations, Flanders and England. But not only there. Cologne merchants are known to have shipped their wine all the way up the Baltic to Tallin, and in no small quantities.

German Wine from the Rhine was so popular in England, it compelled king Henry II to grant the merchants of Cologne royal protection and the right to settle in their own trading yard. That is hard to believe given that today German Wine is best known in England and the US for excessively sweet plonk branded Liebfraumilch or Blue Nun. Before World War I German wine, in particular the Riesling from the Rhinegau and Moselle was considered on par with Champagne, Burgundy and Bordeaux. Prices were similar if not higher. The prestige of German wine went through the roof when queen Victoria visited the town of Hochheim in 1850. German wine was called Hockeimer or just simply Hoch after the town in Hesse. If you read English novels from the 19th century, the upper-class protagonists are constantly drinking Hoch. But that came to an end during the World Wars as export links were cut and drinking German wine was seen as unpatriotic.

Nowadays the great wine critics, be it Jancis Robinson or Robert Parker will make a stand for German Riesling, but to no avail. In part that is for reasons of taste as the sweeter Auslese, Beerenauslese and Eiswein are simply not what wine drinkers prefer. But there are some spectacular crisp, dry Rieslings made all along the Rhine, Moselle and my favourite, the Nahe that leaves any similarly priced Sancerre in the dust. I am going to put a list of my favourite producers in the show notes. Try it, you will not regret it.

Nor did King Henry II regret his sponsorship of the Cologne merchants in 1176. The merchants of Cologne constructed their guildhall on the shores of the river Thames, one of the largest buildings in England entirely dedicated to trade. Henry II’s son, Richard the Lionheart granted them relief from all taxes and dues in exchange for fitting out three ships for the crusades, a deal of truly epic stupidity proving again that this favourite of English kings was a bit of a dunce.

The Cologne merchants were however not the only Germans that started to show up in England in the 13th century. When we talked about the Herring trade in Scania we mentioned that English traders who had come to the Oresund with the salt from the Baie of Bourgneuf and competed with the Hanseatic merchants. Their trade was quickly disrupted by the Hansards from Gdansk as well as the other cities along the Baltic shore who had no salt of their own.

These traders sailed down to Brittany themselves, picked up the salt and got in on the Herring trade, squeezing out the English. The same happened with the Stockfish trade of Bergen, which also been controlled by the English before 1284. Having pushed the English out of Scania and Bergen, the logical next step was to take over the entirety of their trade, bringing their products, including the beeswax and furs to the English ports on the eastern shore, to King’s Lynn, Boston, Yarmouth and Hull.

These men, called the Easterlings as they came from the east began eying up the lucrative privileges of the Cologne merchants. Getting in on the tax-free status the London steelyard had achieved would have boosted their net take home pay by quite a margin and would have helped to squeeze out the locals. Talking about the locals, the English merchants suffered badly from the German competition.

But still the royal authorities were keen to promote the imports of the luxury goods from the east and hence granted these new arrivals similar privileges to the Cologne merchants. It was the beeswax in particular they cared about. In 1266 the Hamburg and then the Lübeck merchants were granted the right to form their own trade associations and settle in England.

Meanwhile the merchants from Westphalia found their way into England as well which meant that we now have three different groups of German traders in England with ever so slightly different sets of rights and privileges.

This situation led to conflict between the different groups, in particular the old Cologne merchants and the Easterlings. The Cologne guys had the older rights and they worked on the basis of co-operation with their English neighbours, whilst the Easterlings were more aggressive trying to carve out a bigger and bigger share of the business at the expense of the English.

A resolution came about through the mediation by the Westphalians who had their hand in both the Rhine valley trade and the Baltic trade. In 1282 the three groups agreed to form a joint trading association, which they called a Hanse. The word Hanse originally described just an association of individual merchants who came together for a specific purpose. Quite similar to the word Commune in Italy.

It is only over time that Hanse became a term describing a co-ordination mechanism between several cities not just for one temporary purpose but for an infinite term. It is in these charters from 1266 and 1282 that the term Hanse first appears.

Whilst the Hanse as I have said before had no charter or institutions, the Steelyard in London had. Like the Gotlandfahrer and the Kontors in Bergen, Bruges and Novgorod, the Steelyard had its rules that all merchants in the Kontor had to adhere to. The Kontor had two Aldermen, one amongst the merchants who stayed at the Steelyard on a temporary basis, be it for a few weeks or a few years. And another Alderman who had to be a citizen of London whose role it was to maintain the link between the City and the Steelyard.

Other than in Bergen, the relationship between the Kontor and the city was cordial. There were lots of social interactions and many of the German merchants lived outside the Steelyard in their own houses. Fraternisation with the locals and even settling permanently and becoming a citizen of London and an English subject was allowed if not encouraged. Still the Kontor had to maintain strict discipline in particular amongst the young and mainly single male population who had come here for the Middle Ages equivalent of a gap year.

The Kontor took part on city life and took on the obligation to maintain and man the Bishopsgate, one of the main fortified gates of the city.

In 1303 another English king, Edward I tried to streamline the complex system of trading privileges and tax exemptions by introducing the Carta Mercatoria that allowed all foreign merchants to freely settle in the kingdom, trade with locals as well as other foreigners, be relieved of all duties and obligations and receive the protection of royal authorities in exchange for a massive increase in excise duties on wool and leather.

The locals who still had to pay all duties and provide all kinds of services to the king whilst being bullied by the bailiffs were unsurprisingly enraged by the huge favour shown to ruddy foreigners. Hence his much softer successor, Edward II had to recall the Carta Mercatorum.

Most of the rage was directed at the Italians whose importance in trade eclipsed the Hansards. That allowed the German merchants to stay under the radar and they continued to enjoy the grand privileges of the Carta Mercatorum. The next Edward, Edward III of Crecy and Poitiers fame was also a great fan of the German merchants. He kept granting them favours throughout his 50-year reign.

In return the Hansards helped him in what he needed most – money. Edward III’s hundred-years war was an unimaginably expensive undertaking. Edward III borrowed money all across Europe, mostly in Italy though. His biggest creditors were the Bardi and Peruzzi in Florence who lent him 210,000 pounds. But the Hanseatic merchants too were willing to chip in. Their financial muscle was much smaller than the great Italians, but they made up for it by focusing on sentimental value.

Edward III had pawned his large crown to the archbishop of Trier for 50,000 Ecu and the smaller crown of the queen for 10,000 to a consortium of Cologne bankers. When the creditors threatened to sell off the crowns of England to the highest bidder, the steelyard merchants stepped in and paid them off in 1344, saving the king from humiliation. We cannot see whether Edward paid them back, because in 1345 he defaulted on the huge loans from the Bardi and Peruzzi, creating the first international banking crisis, a crisis that allowed the Medici to rise from the second tier to becoming the world’s largest banking house and rulers of Florence.

By then the Germans in the steelyard wound down their lending operations, in part because of the risk, but also because the locals did not take kindly to seeing their tax dollars going offshore as interest payments.

By the 14th century the Hanseatic trade in London had expanded majorly from just selling wine, beeswax and fur. Their interest now lay in the growing cloth production of this sceptred isle. England had been the main supplier of wool to Flanders where the cities of Bruges, Ghent, Ypres as well as the northern French cities of Arras, Beauvais, Amines etc. had become almost industrial centres of textile production. Seeing the enormous wealth that could be made in cloth production and the fantastic cathedrals that could pay for, the industrious English wanted a piece of that pie.  

English cloth was cheaper than the prestigious product from Flanders and found a ready market in the Baltic and across the German lands. English cloth would receive an official lead or wax seal to indicate that it had been produced or dyed in England and that the relevant tax was paid. The process of attaching such a seal was called “stalen” in low German which is one of the reasons the German guildhall became known as the Stalhof in Low German and was then badly translated as steelyard into English and then retranslated into High German as Stahlhof with an “h”. There was some steel traded here, but that was almost certainly not the reason for the name.

King Edward III died in 1377 and with it the great supporter of the Hanse in London went away. Even towards the end of his reign relations between the Hanse and its English neighbours had deteriorated. The English may have been pushed aside by the Hanse in Bergen and Scania and had seen their king favouring foreigners, but they would not let that stand. A new generation of merchant adventurers was taking the Hansards head on, sailing into the Baltic themselves to buy and ship the eastern goods so desired back home.

This conflict will become a long and drawn-out affair that will test the unity of the Hanse itself. That and the other conflicts with Denmark and Flanders will form the centrepiece of the next few episodes when the League reaches the zenith of its power. For that to start you will have to be a bit patient. I am on holiday at the moment, so episode production has slowed.

I also notice that I am making very stupid mistakes such as proclaiming 7 times 12 is 72. Probably all for the better that I have left the world of banking. Normal service will resume in two weeks. But no worries, you shall not be deprived of Hanseatic content.

Next week an episode of the excellent Scandinavian History podcast will drop into your feed where Mikael Shankman discusses the Hanse from a Danish, Swedish and Norwegian perspective. I am sure you will enjoy that. See you on the other side!

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

And just to remind you, the sub-podcast The Hanseatic League is still running. So if you want to point a friend or relative towards the History of the Germans but want to avoid confusion, just send him there. The Hanseatic League is available everywhere you can get the History of the Germans.

And last but not least the bibliography. For this episode I again relied heavily on:

Derek Keene: Guildhall and Stalhof in London,

Stuart Jenkins: Leben im Stalhof,

both in Die Hanse, Lebenswirklichkeit und Mythos, herausgegeben von Jürgen Bracker, Volker Henn and Rainer Postel

Philippe Dollinger: Die Hanse

Rolf Hammel-Kieslow: Die Hanse

The Kontors of the Hanseatic League

Today we will talk about the Bryggen, the famous Hanseatic Kontor or trading post in Bergen in western Norway. Bergen itself was never a member of the Hanseatic League, but like The St. Peter’s yard in Novgorod, the steelyard in London and the Kontor of Bruges, the Bryggen in Bergen was a key element of the Hanseatic trading network.

The trade in stockfish from Bergen was never on the same scale as the herring trade off Scania or the trade in beeswax and furs from Novgorod, but it was an important springboard for members of the lower classes to join the long-distance merchants. And the way the Hanse was able to gain a stranglehold over the proud Vikings of Norway is a cautionary tale of failed macro-economic policies.

If you think the Norwegians are unique in falling prey to aggressive Hanseatic trade policies, think again. Even the mighty Bruges, the warehouse of the medieval world” was made to grant these merchants from the Holy Roman empire far reaching privileges. Some have considered these events as the beginnings of a long process of specialisation in Europe that condemned the East to become the giant breadbasket that fed the industrialising West. I doubt things are that simple, but let’s have a look at the different arguments….

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 113 – Bergen and Bruges. Today we will talk about the Bryggen, the famous Hanseatic Kontor or trading post in Bergen in western Norway. Bergen itself was never a member of the Hanseatic League, but like The St. Peter’s yard in Novgorod, the steelyard in London and the Kontor of Bruges, the Bryggen in Bergen was a key element of the Hanseatic trading network.

The trade in stockfish from Bergen was never on the same scale as the herring trade off Scania or the trade in beeswax and furs from Novgorod, but it was an important springboard for members of the lower classes to join the long-distance merchants. And the way the Hanse was able to gain a stranglehold over the proud Vikings of Norway is a cautionary tale of failed macro-economic policies.

If you think the Norwegians are unique in falling prey to aggressive Hanseatic trade policies, think again. Even the mighty Bruges, the warehouse of the medieval world” was made to grant these merchants from the Holy Roman empire far reaching privileges. Some have considered these events as the beginnings of a long process of specialisation in Europe that condemned the East to become the giant breadbasket that fed the industrialising West. I doubt things are that simple, but let’s have a look at the different arguments….

Before we start let me tell you that the History of the Germans Podcast is advertising free thanks to the generous support from patrons. And you can become a patron too and enjoy exclusive bonus episodes and other privileges from the price of a latte per month. All you have to do is sign up at patreon.com/historyofthegermans or on my website historyofthegermans.com. You find all the links in the show notes. And thanks a lot to Peter M., John S., Emily F. and Matthew G. who have already signed up.

The city of Bergen is Norway’s second largest. It lies on the Atlantic coast in the west of the country. It is roughly on the same latitude as the Orkneys and the southern tip of Greenland. But thanks to the gulf stream, Bergen’s natural harbour remains ice free throughout most of the winter. Bergen is believed to have emerged as a trading city towards the tail end of the Viking Age. In 1070, the son of Harald Hardrada, king Olaf III, the Peaceful, officially established the city of Bergen.

What made Bergen particularly attractive were the fisheries in the Atlantic, all the way up the Norwegian coast and across to the Faroe Islands, Shetland, Iceland and even Greenland. This is where you could find cod, hake and halibut in abundance. This fish was preserved not by salting it, but by drying it in cold air and wind on wooden racks. Once dried the fish has a storage life of many months, if not years.

Like the herring, demand for this dried fish, commonly known as Stockfish, went through the roof as pious observation of church doctrines spread across continental Europe in the 11th century. And literally all the stockfish came through Bergen. Ever since the Viking age there were close trading links between Norway and the ports of England’s eastern shore, in particular King’s Lynn, Boston, Yarmouth and Hull.

The other port they sent their stockfish too was Bremen on Germany’s North Sea coast. Transport of the stockfish from Bergen was usually handled by the English and German merchants whose larger ships were more efficient on the journey across the North Sea, whilst the Norwegian, Orkney, Shetland, Faroer and Icelandic ships were much better suited for sailing the rough North Atlantic waters.

As Norway gained overlordship of the islands in the North Atlantic, Bergen became a political as well as an economic centre. The king of Norway and his court would spend long periods here and Bergen is often considered the capital of Norway, before it transferred to Christiana, modern day Oslo at the start of the 14th century. The products the merchants from England and Bremen brought to Bergen in exchange for the Stockfish were not just the usual staples of cloth and salt, but also increasingly grain and beer.

During the medieval warming period that began in the middle of the 10th century Norway’s population, like everywhere else in Europe had grown significantly. The riches brought in by the Vikings and then later by the trade in Stockfish gave population a further boost. That left Norway with a problem. The amazing fjords where cliffs rise straight out of the sea and the mountainous hinterland are stunningly beautiful but hard to navigate with a combined harvester. Though there were no combined harvesters in the 13th century, the problem was the same.

Cultivating enough grain to feed the growing population required far too much effort. Hence Norway came to rely on the regular import of grain and that other important foodstuff, beer. That grain and beer came initially from England and northern Germany. But as early as 1248 we hear that the king of Norway pleads with the citizens of Lübeck to send them grain to alleviate a serious famine. The Hansards had their foot in the door. In the following thirty years, two things happened. As we heard last week, the colonisation of the lands east of the Elbe and then east of the Oder River and finally into Prussia accelerated, creating a surplus of agricultural product, in particular rye, oats and barely.

At the same time the demand for fish across Europe kept growing and growing, enticing more and more Norwegians give up farming and take up fishing. In 1260 a desperate Norwegian king orders farmers to stay on their land and keep producing grain to maintain food safety. But to no avail. The rye, oats and barely that came in via the Baltic was simply much cheaper than the hard-won Norwegian harvests, even if accounting for the cost of transportation. The Norwegian farmers who obeyed the king’s demand were still squeezed out by the foreign competition.

Hence Bergen became ever more dependent upon imported grain. In 1284 the inevitable happened. The merchants from Lübeck and other cities along the Baltic shore felt mistreated by the Norwegian authorities in Bergen. And with some justification, since the Norwegian merchants and sea captains had lobbied the king to restrain the German interlopers. Things escalated when some enraged Norwegians attacked a Hanseatic ship.

After that representatives of several Hanseatic cities came together in Wismar and decided to place an embargo on any grain, beer, malt and flour to Bergen. Ships were posted in the Oresund and the other routes out of the Baltic into the North Sea. Any ship trying to bring embargoed goods to Bergen was to be captured, its load seized and the merchant who owned it fined. Initially it was only the Wendisch cities, i.e., Lübeck, Wismar, Rostock, Stralsund, Greifswald, Hamburg and Lüneburg that agreed to the blockade. Riga, Visby and some cities along the North Sea joined in after the blockade had been announced.

Norway now turned to its other suppliers of foodstuff, the English harbours and the great city of Bremen. Bremen had a much longer relationship with Bergen than the other Hanseatic cities and may have hoped to get a leg up on its Baltic competitors in the Stockfish market. We are in the very early stages of the Hanseatic League and there was no such thing as statute or administrative infrastructure to this thing.

The merchants would refer to themselves as Gemeine Koopman or common merchants who traded under the protection the Holy Roman empor.  They would use use the privileges that were given to the emperor. As the empire declined, privileges were granted to cities or associations like the Gotlandfahrer. But who could claim them was rather vague. In the 1284 Bergen crisis some sanctions had to be imposed on Bremen for breaking the blockade.

So the merchants of the Wendisch cities excluded the citizens of Bremen formally from all privileges that the Gemeine Koopman enjoyed across Europe, in particular in Bruges, London and Novgorod. I am not sure I completely understand the legal basis of this move, but it did work in practice. That was the first exclusion from the Hanse, a “Verhansung” of a whole city. Bremen, as we will find out, will remain an odd one out for quite a long time. Despite Bremen breaking the embargo and the English harbours doing their best to keep Bergen supplied with essentials, the Hanseatic League did win.

Norway capitulated, paid damages and granted the German merchants far reaching privileges. These included the right to trade freely in all of Norway south of Bergen, they were freed from almost all taxes and tolls, could transport all products on their own ships and were allowed to set up a permanent establishment in Bergen. That put them into a position far superior not only to the other foreign merchants but to the Norwegians as well. Backed by the threat of another embargo, the Germans expanded their position well beyond the official privileges.

They moved into retail, bypassing the local traders. They bought land and estates in Norway taking over the production of other export products such as butter and meats. The one thing they did not do was trying to trade north of Bergen and on the Orkneys, Faroes, Shetlands, Iceland and Greenland. One theory is that they left it to the Norwegian fishermen because they were better at sailing across the stormy Artic seas.

But that is not completely convincing since ships from Gdansk and Prussia sail to Iceland in the 15th century. It is more likely that they realised that there was a limit to what the Norwegians were willing to endure. They had a lot less concern for the men from England and Bremen. They were ruthlessly squeezed out as their trading cost were much higher thanks to the taxes and tolls they still had to pay.

The Hansards took over the their trade routes and bring the Stockfish to the harbours on the eastern shore of England. There they would load up with wool they would sell in Flanders where they would pick up cloth going back to the Baltic. By the end of the 13th century the Hanseatic merchants, led by the association of Bergenfahrer in Lübeck, had a monopoly on stockfish in Europe.

And that monopoly was managed out of the Tyske Bryggen, the Bridge of the Germans, a historic harbour district in Bergen. In this district the Hanse built in total 30 merchant yards. They were constructed on a plot 10 to 20m wide and 100m long. There was a representative large house facing the harbour and behind it a courtyard with smaller 3-story houses and a storage facility at the end. Each of these merchant yards had about 90 rooms providing accommodation and storage facilities for almost 2,000 people. Given Bergen’s total population was just 10,000 the importance of this community becomes is quite apparent. The traders who came to Bergen were a rough lot.

Firstly, they were all men. No women were allowed on the Brygge. In particular there was to be no fraternisation with the locals. The Hanseatic cities who controlled the Kontor from afar were very worried that the merchants in Bergen would integrate into the local society, marry Norwegian women and over time turn Bergen into an independent merchant city.

These constraints meant that most of the inhabitants of the Bryggen were young, unmarried men, taking this as their springboard for a career in the world of long-distance trading. As I said before, the trade in Stockfish was much smaller than the herring trade. Not only was it less profitable, Bergen was also a hardship posting beyond the celibacy thing. The weather is famously challenging with 200 days of consecutive rain not uncommon and the winters are long and dark. Bergen became the place where young, ambitious men without family backing would have to go.

They would usually join a partnership with an established merchant. The young and ambitious guy would put in the labour and live in Bergen, whilst the other partner would put in the capital to get the business going. Profits would then be shared 50/50. If things went well the young entrepreneur would return from Bergen after a couple of years with sufficient capital to either send someone else to take his job on the Bryggen or expand to become a merchant across multiple trade routes.

Given that the Bergen Kontor was one of the few established routes to progress into the citizenship of the great trading cities, the young men of Bergen protected it against an influx of the spoiled scions of the great families. And the way they did that was through a challenging initiation rite, the Bergen Games that took place around Pentecost. All new arrivals on the Bryggen had to undergo three trials.

The first were the “Water Games” where the novice was thrown into the harbour and every time he resurfaced and climbed into a boat, he would be beaten mercilessly with twigs. That he had to do three times. In other sources it was said that the man was keelhauled three times, which I do not believe as that tends to be rather deadly. The second game was called the Castle Game. That involved a mock trial at the end of which the rookie was sentenced to a serious beating. That was handed out in a tent and the musicians were ordered to bang their cymbals to drown out the screams. After that the black and blue novice would return to the table and had to sing a cheerful bawdy song, preferably without spitting out too many of his remaining teeth. The last game was the Smoke Game. There the trainee was lowered into the chimney of the communal kitchen or into a barrel where a fire was lit. Often times the young man’s colleagues would look for fuel that made the smoke even more biting and painful. Whilst the delinquent is gradually being asphyxiated, he has to answer silly questions. If answers deemed not sufficiently amusing the torture was extended until the good sense of humour returned. The vast majority of participants survived, but they made sure that much embellished stories of the horrors circulated amongst the overindulged sons of the great burghers of Lübeck, Rostock, Wismar and Hamburg, leaving Bergen firmly in the hands of the great unwashed. What did not help in keeping discipline amongst this rough lot was that the Brygge was effectively extraterritorial. In 1370 king Haakon VI of Norway sent a list of complaints to the diet of the Hanseatic cities. He complains that whenever one of the men of the Bryggen had committed a serious crime, for instance murder, the Hanse would move him out of Bergen on their ships, thereby frustrating royal justice. Specifically the merchants had attacked the royal bailiff and made him do their bidding. They had broken into a monastery, abducted one of the royal servants and had him beheaded. When accused of the crime they bullied the bishop of Bergen to absolve them of the crime, threatening to burn the bishop’s hall and the whole city. Bergen by the way was built in wood and burned down quite regularly, the last time in 1955. No wonder the Norwegians tried to get rid of the Hanse merchants. But the stranglehold over the food supply tightened ever further. After the Black Death killed a large proportion of the population, local food production tanked even further, deepening the dependency on the cheap grain from the Baltic. They also established a credit system, offering the fishermen a part of the pay for their fish upfront in exchange for both interest and a fixed price for their product. The latter cut them out of any profit resulting from upward price volatility. In the mid-15th century tensions escalated to the point that the German merchants cut down the royal bailiff, the bishop and 60 Norwegians before burned down a monastery, all that without the king of Norway being able to do anything about it. The Hanseatic cities that formally set the rules for the Bryggen tried constantly to rein in the excesses and it is likely that they did succeed, at least sometimes. It is hard to conceive that the community in the Bryggen could have existed in a constant state of conflict with the city around it. There are stories of positive interactions between merchants and Norwegians, in particular with the fishermen. We also find Norwegian women being put in the wills of Hanseatic Merchants, suggesting the prohibitions weren’t quite as draconically enforced. The reign of the Kontor in Bergen came to an end when it got under almost sole control of the city of Lübeck. Other cities like Gdansk felt excluded from the trade in stockfish and opened up their own trade routes to Iceland and the islands. Once the solidarity of the Hanseatic cities had collapsed, the threat of an embargo disappeared. The King of Norway allowed direct trade outside Bergen and the city’s central role in the trade of Stockfish ended. The burghers of Lübeck sold their merchant’s yards to their apprentices or Norwegians and over time the Bryggen stopped being the Tyske Bryggen, the Bridge of the Germans, but just the Bryggen. Formally that name change happened in 1945 after the German troops that occupied Norway had left, but that is a story for another time. And if you want to find out what a Hanseatic Kontor looked like, you have to go to Bergen where it still stands, a Unesco World Heritage site. Bergen and Novgorod were not the only Kontors the Hanse maintained. There are two more, Bruges and London. Let’s talk about Bruges first. Bruges is today one of the great cultural destinations of Belgium. People walk through the picturesque alleyways, admire the canals and the market square with its towering Belfry before taking a look at the Beguinenhof. What they often fail to realise is how unbelievably important Bruges was in 13th century. It was the true centre of the commercial world north of the Alps. It was the place where Scots and Englishmen brought their wool, Dutch and Frisians brought cattle, merchants from La Rochelle and Bayonne delivered wine. All Iberian peoples were present, Basques, Navarrese, Castilians, Portuguese bringing iron, fruit and again wool. In 1277 a fleet from Genoa arrived, opening up a direct trade route between Italy and Northern Europe via the Atlantic coast. Moreover, the Italians brought with them the emerging art of finance. The great banking houses of Venice, Genoa and later Florence set up shop in Bruges, accepting and issuing letters of credit and bills of exchange. A bourse was opened in 1309, one of the first of its kind. There entrepreneurs could raise funding for audacious trading adventures from other merchants or from the representatives of the great banking houses. If you look at the Arnolfini Portrait in the National Gallery, you can see one of these Italian bankers who had settled in Bruges. He may wear a silly hat and awkward posture, but underneath it is a man as shrewd and as ruthless as any New York hedge fund manager, and he did pretty much the same things, buying and selling participations in enterprises, funding start-ups and helping to buy out retiring merchants, just with an abacus instead of three blinking computer screens. Unsurprisingly the Baltic Hanse was keen to be present in this epicentre of European trade. They brought in their herring, stockfish, grain, beer, copper, pelts, butter, beeswax and ash needed for the weaving process. At the same time they could find literally anything medieval artisans and farmers could produce. All kinds of luxury goods from the Mediterranean could be picked up and sold on to some Swedish count or Teutonic Grand master. But mostly they were interested in Flemish woollen cloth that had become the most desirable kind of textile across Europe. In 1252 the countess of Flanders offered the German merchants to set up a physical Kontor in Damme, the harbour of Bruges. It would have been a place very much like the Bryggen in Bergen and the Peterhof in Novgorod. A place for the Hanseatic merchants to stay when in Bruges, to store their wares and buy and sell goods. But that did not work out as either the citizens of Bruges pushed back or the Hansards went too far in their demands. Still the countess granted the merchants from the various cities of the Holy Roman empire wide-ranging privileges, including to be exempt from trial by combat, not to be made liable for the debt of other Hanseatic merchants and to be exempt from the lex naufragii, which allowed the locals to seize all property washed ashore after a shipwreck. They were also given lower tariffs on their goods and the right to maintain their own weighing scales at the harbour in Damme. The community of the Gemeine Koopmans, the Common Merchants grew at the same breakneck speed as the city of Bruges expanded in the 13th century. Initially it was the men from Bremen who had been welcomed for their beer, but soon the Lübecker and Hamburger overtook them. Though they did not have their own separate yard, there were two streets named after these cities suggesting that many of them congregated in designated inns or yards. And this where we encounter more of the inland members of the Hanse. We have already heard that Dortmund was crucial in the early development of Lübeck and the Gotlandfahrer, as were Soest and Münster. These Westphalian cities lay along the Hellweg, an East-West link between the Elbe River and the Rhine. Many Baltic goods travelled down that way to bring say herring to the faithful in Nuremberg. Equally goods from the south like wine from the Rhine and Moselle valley travelled north along this road. Where it hits the Rhine the city of Duisburg beame a major inland harbour which at least during my childhood was the biggest inland harbour in the world. Today that is apparently Nanjing in China though that could also be classified as a seaport. Though Dortmund is initially the most important of these Westphalian Hanseatic cities, there is another massive one that takes over from the 13th century onwards, and that is Cologne. But today is not the day to discuss Cologne, that will be next week. But suffice to say that Cologne too was closely involved in the trade with Bruges. The city I want to talk about in this episode is my favourite city in Germany and the place I still feel most at home, and that is Hamburg. Germany’s second largest city is also one of the older ones beyond the Limes, the ancient Roman defensive wall against the Germanic tribes. Saint Ansgar, the Apostle to the North was posted to the Hammaburg in 834 and built a wooden church there. Over the centuries that followed the city remained a modest outpost despite its formal role as a seat of an archbishop. The local Abodrites as well as Danish Vikings burned the settlement multiple times. And even when Lothar of Supplinburg and Henry the Lion defeat the Slavic tribes that did not mean that Hamburg was safe. Various Saxon noblemen burned it as late as 1138. The counts of Holstein had become overlords of Hamburg in the 1120s but most of their focus was on developing Lübeck. Only once they lost Lübeck to Henry the Lion and failed to get it back after the duke of Saxony had fallen did they focus on Hamburg. In 1188 do they establish the Neustadt, the new Town built on the site of the former ducal castle. It is again settlers from Flanders and Holland who make up the first inhabitants of the city. Hamburg claims that it received a wide range of freedoms and privileges from the emperor Frederick Barbarossa in 1189. It is now firmly established that this letter is a fake, which does not stop the Hamburgers from celebrating the date of its issuance as their annual Hafengeburtstag or harbour anniversary. Whether the fake was a deliberate attempt to gain rights the merchants of Hamburg never possessed or was just meant as evidence of rights they did possess either legally or by tradition is in equal measure unclear as it is irrelevant. By the mid 13th century Hamburg acted like a free imperial city setting its own laws and jurisdiction. But Hamburg was at the time a minor city within the League. Its purpose was mainly to act as the North Sea harbour for Lübeck. The Hanseatic merchants preferred landing the goods from Scania, Sweden and Novgorod in Lübeck and then transport them overland or by river to Hamburg from where they would then be shipped to Bruges or London. That explains the importance of Hamburg merchants at the Kontor in Bruges. And that gets us back to the role of the Hanse in Bruges. The local merchants became increasingly irritated by the foreigners gaining ever more privileges in the city. It was the counts of Flanders who granted them these rights which often came at the expense of the locals. Tensions between the two groups rose, not dissimilar to what happened in Bergen. The German and Spanish merchants claimed that the locals disrespected their rights, whilst the people of Bruges said that the foreigners disregarded the obligation only to sell to citizens of Bruges. The latter was quite important. As long as the citizens of Bruges could prevent the foreigners from trading directly with each other, they could make a very decent living just by standing in the middle drawing a margin from both sides. In 1280 the conflict burst out into the open. The Hanse and the Spaniards sat down with the count of Flanders and gained the right to move their staple to Aardenburg, 20 km east of Bruges. What that meant is that these traders were allowed to bring their goods to Aardenburg and sell them there to whoever they wanted, basically cutting out the citizens of Bruges. That was a high stakes game. Because it wasn’t just the citizens of Bruges who lost out in this. Since not all wholesalers operating in Bruges had moved to Aardenburg, there was a lot of trading the Hanse merchants could now no longer access from their new location. It was essentially an embargo that went two ways. In this conflict the question is, who has more to lose. The Hanse merchants needed to find new buyers replacing those who did not dare to upset the citizens of Bruges by coming to Aardenburg. Ad they needed to find a way to buy cloth from the great Flemish weaving towns, including Bruges, for resale in the Baltic. If they could not bring the cloth, competitors could bypass them and unwind the whole Hanseatic trading system in the Baltic. What it boiled down to was not just a question of stubbornness and discipline, but also a question of whether either side could find substitutes. I.e., could the Hanse merchants find other places to sell their grain, beer, herring, beeswax and furs and buy cloth directly in Ypres, Ghent and elsewhere, whilst for Bruges the question was how desperately do they need the products from the Baltic. An initial analysis suggests that Bruges should be in a stronger position. They are the world’s trading centre. Losing the margin on some significant trade volumes could be painful but not devastating. Whilst the Hanse was staring down the barrel of not being able to procure the most important good sold in the North, woollen cloth from Flanders. If the embargo persisted, the discipline amongst the various Hanseatic cities deprived of this important supply should quickly fall apart. Still, the Hanse prevailed. The citizens of Bruges caved within mere months and agreed to a wide range of further concessions, including the big one, they allowed the Hansards to trade directly with other foreigners. Why did Bruges cave? The sources do not say and my trawling through the secondary literature was also unsuccessful. My hypothesis is that the most powerful argument of the Hanse was grain and beer. Flanders was not quite as dependent upon Baltic supply of grain as Norway, but it did need to bring in provisions from abroad, be that England, Northern France or the Baltic. Baltic grain was rye, oats and barley which featured mainly in the diet of the poor. Rich people ate wheat bread. So when the Hanse cut the supply of the foodstuff of the lower classes, there was no simple way to replace it with other product at a similar price. The city councils in the Middle Ages weren’t democratically elected representatives of all the inhabitants of the city. They were usually comprised of the Patrician upper classes and new members were co-opted by their peers, not elected. In other words, they were the representatives of the city oligarchy tasked with preserving the existing social order. As a consequence they lived in constant fear of uprisings. Flanders in particular was regularly convulsed by strikes and uprisings of the weavers who toiled in huge almost industrial facilities. Fear the embargo could trigger an imminent hunger revolt of the city’s underclass seems to have forced the council’s hand, overriding the more long-term challenge to the Hanseatic trade system. Given this embargo had been so successful, the League would use the same technique again in 1307/09, 1358/60 1388/92 and 1436/38 and was successful in all these instances gaining new privileges every time. Bruges may today be one of the lesser known trading posts, but was in reality the by far most important Kontor of the Hanseatic League. Whilst I am sure winning the fight with Bruges’ city council was celebrated across the Baltic as a great success and many a brick gothic cathedral bears witness to the economic gains made by the burghers of Lübeck, Wismar, Rostock, Gdansk, Riga, Tallin and so many more. But some economic historians believe that this deal had serious negative implications for Eastern Europe. The export of grain funded the import of manufactured goods, in particular cloth which meant there was little point and also little chance for a manufacturing industry to emerge in the great Hanseatic cities. And it is indeed true that few if any of the Hanseatic cities developed a manufacturing capability beyond brewing beer. The Hanse was a trading system designed to ship commodities from east to west and bring back higher value goods. By establishing export routes for grain and other commodities the Hanse helped to first establish and then sustain the great agricultural estates in Poland, Prussia and the Baltic states. And these estates kept a small class of landowners, often of German extraction in power, suppressing entrepreneurship and democracy. At least that is the argument. Do I buy that? It is certainly an interesting way to explain the split of Europe in the 19th century into an agricultural east and an industrialised West. But then there are many other factors that help or hinder the emergence of innovative economies. The rule of law, absence of military conflict and access to capital to name a few. And one can argue that is exactly what the Hanseatic League provided in its cities, the rule of law, safety from military attack and access to capital. So I am not yet convinced we can blame the Hanseatic merchants in the 13th century for Russian autocracy in the 19th. This is not the last time we will hear about the Kontors in Bruges and Bergen. But we are done for today. Next week we will look at the most famous of the Hanseatic Kontors, the Steelyard in London. I hope you will join us again. Before I go, let me thank all of you who are supporting the show, in particular the Patrons who have kindly signed up on patreon.com/historyofthegermans. It is thanks to you this show does not have to do advertising for products you do not want to hear about. If Patreon isn’t for you, another way to help the show is sharing the podcast directly or boosting its recognition on social media. If you share, comment or retweet a post from the History of the Germans it is more likely to be seen by others, hence bringing in more listeners. My most active places are Twitter @germanshistory and my Facebook page History of the Germans Podcast. As always, all the links are in the show notes.     And just to remind you, the sub-podcast The Hanseatic League is still running. So if you want to point a friend or relative towards the History of the Germans but want to avoid confusion, just send him there. The Hanseatic League is available everywhere you can get the History of the Germans.

And last but not least the bibliography. For this episode I again relied heavily on:

Justyna Wubs-Mrozewicz: (3) Rules of Inclusion, Rules of Exclusion: The Hanseatic Kontor in Bergen in the Late Middle Ages and its Normative Boundaries | arvids alvea – Academia.edu

Carsten Mueller Boysen: Die Deutsche Bruecke in Bergen in Die Hanse, Lebenswirklichkeit und Mythos, herausgegeben von Jürgen Bracker, Volker Henn and Rainer Postel

Philippe Dollinger: Die Hanse

Rolf Hammel-Kieslow: Die Hanse

The Hanse’s Trade in Beer and Cereals

This week we will kick off with the string of cities along the Baltic Coast from Lübeck up to Königsberg (modern day Kaliningrad). Who founded them and why? And why so many? Who were the people who came to live there, how did they organise themselves and most importantly, what did they produce and what did they trade?

We will dwell on the most splendid of those, Gdansk or Danzig in German, the one city in the Baltic that could give Lübeck a run for its money, a place that developed as six separate cities and only became one entity in the late 15th century. And as we talk about Gdansk, we will also talk about the Vistula River, Europe’s nineth longest that connected Gdansk not just to many of Poland’s great cities, but also to the agricultural wealth of the Prussia of the Teutonic Knights, to the Ukraine and to ancient Lithuania.

And all that foodstuff is put on ships and goes to the growing cities of Flanders, the Rhineland, England, Northern France and even Spain. For the first time since the fall of the Roman empire do we hear about large scale grain shipments that sustain urban centres, urban centres that couldn’t otherwise exist. But grain is not the only thing that the Hansa become famous for.

The other is Germany’s most popular drink and best-known export, beer. The economics there are even more fascinating, since people did not only drink vast quantities of beer in the Middle Ages, they also cared a lot about where it came from, and Einbecker was Europe’s favourite beer.

And if you have been hoping to finally hear about the Hanseatic Kontor in Bergen, well let’s see how far we get…..

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 112: Grain, Beer & maybe some more Fish

This week we will kick off with the string of cities along the Baltic Coast from Lübeck up to Königsberg (modern day Kaliningrad). Who founded them and why? And why so many? Who were the people who came to live there, how did they organise themselves and most importantly, what did they produce and what did they trade?

We will dwell on the most splendid of those, Gdansk or Danzig in German, the one city in the Baltic that could give Lübeck a run for its money, a place that developed as six separate cities and only became one entity in the late 15th century. And as we talk about Gdansk, we will also talk about the Vistula River, Europe’s nineth longest that connected Gdansk not just to many of Poland’s great cities, but also to the agricultural wealth of the Prussia of the Teutonic Knights, to the Ukraine and to ancient Lithuania.

And all that foodstuff is put on ships and goes to the growing cities of Flanders, the Rhineland, England, Northern France and even Spain. For the first time since the fall of the Roman empire do we hear about large scale grain shipments that sustain urban centres, urban centres that couldn’t otherwise exist.

But grain is not the only thing that the Hansa become famous for. The other is Germany’s most popular drink and best-known export, beer. The economics there are even more fascinating, since people did not only drink vast quantities of beer in the Middle Ages, they also cared a lot about where it came from, and Einbecker was Europe’s favourite beer.

And if you have been hoping to finally hear about the Hanseatic Kontor in Bergen, well let’s see how far we get…..

But before we start let me tell you that the History of the Germans Podcast is advertising free thanks to the generous support from patrons. And you can become a patron too and enjoy exclusive bonus episodes and other privileges from the price of a latte per month. All you have to do is sign up at patreon.com/historyofthegermans or on my website historyofthegermans.com. You find all the links in the show notes. And thanks a lot to Matt B., Tim KJ, Simon K. and Ben & Jim E. who have already signed up.

As you know I sometimes do feature other podcasts I like on the History of the Germans, podcasts I believe you may like too. Today I want to point you to History of the Second World War podcast. Here is Wesley himself telling you about it:

Last week we talked about the largest fisheries in the pre-modern period, the herring markets in Scania. Millions of herring travelled every year between July and September through the narrow Oresund. The fish were caught and then salted in barrels. The salt for that came in part from Germany, namely from Luneburg, Oldesloe and Halle and der Saale and was brought in by the merchants of Lübeck.

The other half of the salt had come from the Baie of Bourgneuf on the French Atlantic coast, initially brought in by Dutch, Flemish and English merchants but over time that trade was too usurped by Hanseatic merchants. Our budding merchant empire has now gained a quasi-monopoly on herring, has gained access to the main supply of beeswax and furs and got busy exploiting the mineral wealth of Sweden.

But that is not all. There is another major set of products that came in via the southern shore of the Baltic, through the line of cities that stretches like a string of pearls along the coast.

Since this is a podcast about the Hanseatic League it would be great if I could name you all the cities along that coast that were members of the League. But I can’t. The Hanseatic League did not run a register of members. Membership shifted constantly.

Only Lübeck was in there from start to finish, but even places that are seen as thoroughly Hanseatic, like Bremen, had initially been reluctant to join or were expelled at some point or both. Tradition has it that there were 72 permanent members and about 130 floating members. But there is not even a definitive list of these 72. It is likely that 72 was a purely symbolic number, made up as 7 times 12, each important in numerology.

And even if there had been 72 confirmed members, there is no way I can talk about all of these. My choice of which ones I mention is entirely subjective, driven by what I think is important or entertaining. If that means I miss one or other proud Hanseatic city in this podcast, my apologies.

The ones we are talking about today are: Wismar, Rostock, Stralsund, Greifswald, Stettin/Szczecin, Kolberg/Kolobrzeg, Danzig/Gdansk, Elbing/Elblag and Königsberg/Kaliningrad as well as the inland cities of Kraków and Einbeck.

Let’s go from west to east. The first set of cities we should have a look at are Rostock and Wismar. Rostock was the first to be founded, in 1218, that is more than 60 years after Lübeck and 17 years after Riga. Wismar came a few years later in 1226.

These dates refer to the date when these places received city rights, not when they were first occupied. Very much like Lübeck itself these places had been villages or townships long before. Their population had largely been of Slavic descent, and they were also often still pagans. We did talk about the history of the Slavic peoples living between the Elbe and Oder Rivers at length in the episodes 95 to 108 of the History of the Germans Podcast, so this constellation should not come as a surprise.

These foundations were explicitly meant for German Christian merchants who in the case of Rostock and Wismar mostly came from Lübeck and whose roots go back to Westphalia, the Rhineland and Flanders.

They were given an area adjacent but separate from the existing Slavic township or village. Only the settlement of the Germans would be given the town laws that granted them the right to establish a city council and exercise lower jurisdiction.

They would then build a wall around their new city. In some cases, like in Rostock, the first city is almost immediately followed by a second one next to it, one ends up being called the Altstadt or old city and the other Neustadt, or new city, even if the new city is barely a decade younger than the old one. Each would have their own council, town hall and city wall.

Rathaus in Rostock

In Rostock there was also the seat of the prince of Mecklenburg which formed the technically fourth entity. These four settlements merged into one city in 1265, chose one city council for the whole and built a joint city wall surrounding the agglomeration.

Ok, that was the process, but it still does not explain why the princes of Mecklenburg wanted these cities to be created and why they wanted them filled with German merchants.

As so often in history, it was the two main drivers of human behaviour, greed and fear. The princes on the Baltic shore, be they the counts of Holstein, the Mecklenburger or Pomeranians as well as the princes further inland, the margraves of Brandenburg and Meissen, the duke of the shrunken Saxony, the house of Welf, the archbishop of Bremen, the bishop of Magdeburg and all the other ones lived in constant fear.

None could be certain of their position. The central authority in the form of emperor Frederick II had returned home to Sicily, leaving the Regnum Teutonicum in the hands of his infant son and a regency council with the strict instruction not to exercise much authority.

And by 1250 even that bit of central authority fell away entirely leaving an almost free for all held together by some loose rules of chivalric behaviour.

For a prince, count, duke or bishop to feel secure he needed fortresses and money, lots of money. A city surrounded by a wall is a formidable defensive position. And what is even better is that the cost of building and maintaining this fortress is borne by the city’s inhabitants.

Plus cities were great engines of the economy. The city’s artisans create goods people desire and tools that increase productivity. The merchants open up markets bringing in and sending out goods. The city itself becomes a market for the agricultural surplus generated on the farms nearby.

And all that activity could be turned into sources of tax income for the princes. With a solid set of defences and some tidy income from taxes and tolls, a prince could then get on with the long and arduous task of turning his hotchpotch of rights and privileges into a territorial state.

And that was expensive. It required buying up land and rights from other lords, knights or bishops, and where they were hard to convince, take it away from them by force, until all power in the territory is consolidated in one hand.

But as we all know, there is no such thing as a free lunch, not even for a medieval prince who can raid any of his serf’s home and demand food. The price he had to pay was to grant the new settlers a number of freedoms. In particular the right to form their own city council, to administrate their affairs and to adjudicate at least their civil disagreements and petty crimes. Only the judgement over serious crimes and in particular the right to convict someone to death was reserved to the prince. That is what it took to convince a merchant from Lübeck, Dortmund, Visby or Riga to move to Wismar or Rostock.

So confusingly, the political project aimed at consolidating all power in the hands of the princes starts with the princes giving some of these powers to immigrants. And they will live to regret that decision.

Hearing that the princes of Mecklenburg set up trading cities for German merchants on their lands may sound confusing to modern listeners. You may remember that the princes of Mecklenburg were descendants of Niklot, the pagan Slavic leader who had fought and lost against Henry the Lion. This was the last leg of a set of wars and harassments that goes back to the 10th century. There could not have been much love lost between Slavs and Germans.  

The ethnic persecution of Slavs ended when the first prince, Pribislav had become Christian and was recognised as a magnate in the Holy Roman Empire first by Henry the Lion and then by the emperor Frederick Barbarossa. So just 60 years before the founding of Rostock, Mecklenburger and Saxons had been caught in a brutal struggle for survival and now the Slavs are inviting the Germans in, giving them land and privileges?

If these Slavic princes did care about their own peoples being pushed aside and over time letting these places turn into German speaking lands, there is little evidence of it. Fortifications and income were apparently more important. And we are still 500 years before the invention of nationalism making identities as Christian and as an aristocrat more important than ethnic relationships.

This policy of inviting German merchants to settle in their lands was not limited to the Mecklenburger. The next set of cities along the Baltic coast, Stralsund, Greifswald, Stettin/Szczecin in Polish and Kolberg/Kolobrzeg.

Rathaus Stralsund

The magnates who founded them were the princes of Rügen and the dukes of Pomerania. These too were of Slavic extraction. The princes of Rügen had been amongst the most committed pagans and guardians of the last great pagan temple at Kap Arkona.

Likewise, the dukes of Pomerania had originally been the leaders of the Slavic tribe of the Pomeranians who had taken up Christianity thanks to the silver-tongues preaching of bishop Otto von Bamberg and the steel tipped lances of duke Boleslav III of Poland.

And again, these princes invited German settlers to come to their lands, take over some of the most promising trading locations and built their cities. In the case of Stettin/ Szczecin the choice was particularly stark, since it had been a sizeable city since at least the 10th century with an established trading activity. Still, the duke of Pomerania decided in 1237 to give the combined entity a German city law, replacing the existing Slavic rules.

Rathaus Stettin/Szczecin

And these princes did it for very much the same reasons as their neighbours to the west. Their neighbours were the Danes, the margraves of Brandenburg and Poland. The Danes under Valdemar II had raided along the Baltic shores for decades before the battle of Bornhoeved leading to a serious depopulation of the territory. Meanwhile the ambitious margraves of Brandenburg were expanding both northwards and eastwards.

Brandenburg’s move east was facilitated by Poland breaking up into six duchies after the death of Boleslav III “wrymouth”. None of these duchies could dominate the others, though technically the duke who resided in Kraków was the overlord of the whole of Poland. Each was in a precarious position vis-vis-vis their cousins, the margraves of Brandenburg, but not only them.

What knocked Poland for six in this period was the Mongol Invasion. In 1241 they arrived, led by Batu, the grandson of Genghis Khan. The duke of the Polish duchy of Malopolska and nominal leader of the whole went to face them at Chmielnik.

His forces were annihilated, and the duke fled south. His cousin Henry the Pious duke of Silesia fared no better. He had gathered even more troops and was defeated at Legnica and he himself was torn to pieces. Though the Mongols turned back either because the election of a new Khan was taking place or because they found the climate less hospitable for their specific needs, they did briefly stop to completely wipe out the populations of Kraków, Lublin, Sandomierz and other cities.

So, for these reasons the Polish and the Pomeranian dukes needed to repopulate their cities as defensive positions and as sources of cash. And that meant inviting foreigners to come and settle down. These foreigners were mostly from the Holy Roman Empire and as we said before, demanded that they should have some say in the way their new cities were administrated and managed. This meant that cities were either given the law of the city of Lübeck if they were along the coast, or the law of the city of Magdeburg if they were inland.

That resulted in a situation where places like for instance Kraków consisted in a ducal castle complex plus a Polish settlement around it, which was inhabited by Poles and subject to traditional polish laws and the ducal jurisdiction. Meanwhile an entirely new city has been founded next to it, which was largely inhabited by German immigrants who had their own laws, jurisdiction, customs and language.

In some cases, these different settlement merged into one large city with a common city council, in other cases the different administrative structures and ethnic segregation remained for centuries. When these cities – like Krakow – joined the Hanseatic League, it was usually just the German merchant settlement that did so. Which gets me to the bit of today’s show that will get me the by far largest number of complaints and social media hate mail.

And that is the story of the greatest of all these cities along the Baltic shore – Danzig as the Germans call it or Gdansk as it is called in Polish. The history of Danzig/Gdansk could easily take up a whole episode and I may still do it at a later stage.

But for today I will stick to the bare bones. Gdansk might well be the oldest of the Hanseatic cities. Archaeologists have found remains of an 8th century Slavic settlement underneath the Long Market in the centre of the city. Arab visitors in the 10th century mention it and Adalbert of Prague, the saintly friend of emperor Otto III set off for the land of the Pruzzi and his utterly predictable death from here.

In the 13th century Gdansk became the seat of a local prince, the duke of Pomerelia, another one of these Slavic rulers who got baptised and were elevated to a feudal rank of duke.

The dukes of Pomerelia were vassals of the king of Poland, and not princes of the Holy Roman Empire. The eastern border of the Holy Roman empire was the duchy of Pomerania. All lands east of there, including Pomerelia,, Gdansk and Prussia never became part of the Holy Roman empire, even though they were later parts of the kingdom of Prussia and the German Reich between 1871 and 1918, some of it until 1945. As I said, German history is complicated.

Back to the medieval dukes of Pomerelia. They supported the growth of their settlement at Gdansk and as it expanded, a new part of town was created to house more artisans and Slavic merchants. This part was called the Suburbium, or the suburb. From the end of the 12th century German merchants, in particular from Luebeck came to Gdansk and the duke gave them their own district to settle down in.

This district also grew rapidly and in 1225 duke Swietopluk of Danzig granted the German settlers city rights. These applied only to their settlement, which became known as the Rechtstadt, or the city of rights, as only this settlement had city rights, whist the old castle area and the suburb did not.

By the end of the 13th century the Rechtstadt, so just the German merchant city, not the other bits, joined the Hanseatic League. In 1294 the dukes of Pomerelia died out. The region was then fought over by the margraves of Brandenburg, some of the Polish dukes and the Teutonic knights, a war the Teutonic Knights did win.

The Teutonic Knights took over the old ducal castle. They did not like their cities to be too independent and they had their own ports and trading cities which meant they tried to suppress the Rechtstadt. At the same time, they founded another Slavic settlement, mainly for fishermen and the collectors of amber. This settlement they called the Hakelwerk.

Now we have four different cities on the territory of modern Gdansk, three Slavic ones, the castle, the suburb and the Hakelwerk and one German one, the Rechtstadt.

The Teutonic Knights’ efforts to keep the burghers of the Rechtstadt down turned out to be unsuccessful. The settlement grew and grew and immigrants arrived almost continuously from the Empire, looking for opportunities to make a fortune in this booming trading city. The Rechtstadt quickly became too small and so another city was founded, the Neustadt or Newtown. And even this was not enough, so another, a sixth city was founded, the Jungstadt, the young town.

 Meanwhile the old suburbia that used to be the place where the Slavic artisans and merchants had lived was gradually taken over by German immigrants so that this settlement too was given German city laws in 1377 and was renamed Old Town. There we are, the end of the 14th century the place we know today as Gdansk consisted of no less than six separate political entities, all with different legal and political frameworks, their own councils and town halls.

Four of those were dominated by German merchants and artisans, the Rechtstadt, Neustadt, Jungstadt and Altstadt, whilst the Hakelwerk was mainly populated by Pomeranian fishermen and the castle area by the Teutonic Knights, their administrators and servants as well as some Pomerelians.

Only in the late 15th century once Poland had taken control of Gdansk again would this agglomeration be unified under one city council. We will get back to Gdansk in a minute.

Let me just complete the round. If you go further east along the coast from Pomerelia you get to the territory of the Teutonic Knights. As you know we will do a whole series about the Teutonic knights, so we will touch upon their story only briefly here. The Teutonic Knights had been called by the duke of Mazovia, one of the six Polish dukes, to force the pagan Pruzzi into submission and acceptance of Christianity.

The Teutonic Knights did stick to that part of the brief, conquered the land of the Pruzzi in a 50-year long brutal fight that led to the near extinction of its indigenous population and converted the remaining peoples to Christianity. And they also established their own autonomous state reporting to no-one.

When they turned their mind to rebuilding the wasteland they had created, the Teutonic Knights established their own trading cities namely Thorn (Torun in Polish), Kulm (Chelmno), Elbing (elblag) and Königsberg (Kaliningrad). The Teutonic knights did pursue the same objectives in founding these cities that their princely neighbours pursued.

The difference was that they were a lot more successful. All the cities we talked about here would shake off much of the control mechanisms their founders had put in. They would acquire full control of jurisdiction, they would buy off or fight off the taxation rights of their city lords and even gain the right to pursue wrongdoers in the surrounding lands to bring them to court in their cities.

Though only very few of the Hanseatic cities became free imperial cities, Lübeck, Bremen and Cologne being the notable cases, the rest were almost as independent of their overlords even if they did not have that status. The cities in the lands of the Teutonic Knights were different. Their city law, the Kulmer Handfeste left far more rights in the hands of the knights than the Lübeck law that applied in most other cities. The control of the Grand Master was so comprehensive that many negotiating partners of the Hansa considered him to be a member of the Hanse himself.

So, I am sorry for this long and arduous run through the foundation story of the various cities along the Baltic coast. The reason I did that was not just to complete the circuit.

There is a point to that. And that point is that there is a conflict built into the Hanseatic League right from the beginning. The dukes and princes who remained nominally in charge of these cities may have been forced to accept their independence, but for how long?

As they consolidate their power and form more modern states, these independent cities start to look like anachronistic leftovers from feudal times let alone that these places that are both militarily and economically crucial to their territories. Defending city liberties against the princes will be a constant undercurrent of the history of the Hanseatic League and one of the reasons of its ultimate dissolution.

Which gets us to the next question, what did these cities trade in? How did they get a foothold in the lucrative Hanseatic Trade? We know that Lübeck used the salt from Lüneburg, Oldesloe and Halle to get going.  But these other cities along the Baltic coast, they had no salt they could leverage into access to either Novgorod or the herring trade in Scania.

In unique natural riches there was the amber found on the coast of Prussia, a luxury product the Teutonic Knights shipped across Europe. That was by the way a truly ancient trade. Pliny the elder – always a most reliable source – talks about Amber from an island he calls Abalus, a day’s sail from the land of the Teutones wherever that was.

But amber is not really a crucial ingredient for anything, nothing that can be used to force kings and merchants to let you in to play in the big league. What these cities did have though was an enormous hinterland. And in this hinterland another army of Germanic immigrants had been called in to develop its agricultural production.

We talked about 12th and 13th colonisation of the lands between Elbe and Oder many times in the last season. We are now in the second wave when colonists move beyond the Oder River, sometimes along with the expansion of the Margraviate of Brandenburg or to populate the lands of the Teutonic Knights, but also upon invitation of the Slavic dukes of Mecklenburg and Pomerania and the Polish dukes, in particular the duke of Silesia.

The men and women from the first wave who settled into Holstein, Brandenburg and Meissen had come from the overpopulated regions of the Holy Roman empire, mainly from Flanders and the Rhineland. The settlers into Mecklenburg, Pomerania and Poland had a slightly different background. They were the descendants, the second sons and daughters of first wave settlers who had come to Brandenburg or Meissen. They did not require much persuasion to replicate what their parents or grandparents had done, having seen how well it had worked. Those who headed for Prussia were again different. They came directly from Franconia and central Germany where the Teutonic Order had large possessions and many of its members originated. Their houses in Marburg and Bad Mergentheim kept recruiting settlers offering land and low taxes.

What made this second wave work even better than the first one was that it happened alongside the foundation of the new trading cities we just talked about. These new cities provided a ready market for the new agricultural production capacity.

In part the grain, meat and fruit produced in the new villages went to feed the population of the new cities, but a large chunk also went into export. Grain from eastern Europe fed the rapidly expanding cities of Flanders, the English ports and in particular that emerging behemoth of London, the cities of the Rhineland with Cologne at its head, Northern France and as far as Spain and many more.

That list tells you that even assuming the lands of Mecklenburg, Brandenburg and Pomerania were extremely fertile, which they sadly are not, there is no way they could have produced enough to cover that level of demand. Where it came from was initially the enormous estates of the Teutonic Knights.

We understand that in the year 1400 the various silos of Prussia held 800t of wheat, 1,500 tons of Barley, 6,500 tons of oats and 15,000 tons of Rye. 330 ships a year brought grain to England, 1,100 sailed to Flanders alone. The greatest of these export harbours was Gdansk or Danzig. What gave this city a huge advantage was its river, the Vistula. Again, take out an atlas and have a look.

The Vistula is the ninth longest river in Europe flowing all the way from the Carpathian Mountains via Kraków and Warsaw to Gdansk. And it has a number of tributaries, one of which is the Bug which comes down to Warsaw from Lviv in Ukraine. With this connection, Gdansk became the gateway for the agricultural wealth of Prussia, Ukraine and Poland into Northern Europe. And I guess by now we are all painfully aware of the importance of Ukrainian agriculture in feeding the world.

For the first time since the Ancient Roman empire do we hear of large scale grain transports feeding densely populated centres in western Europe. I know I keep going on about this stuff, but again, grain is a commodity meaning you carry a lot of weight for not much cash. And you do this over thousands of miles? Getting this done organisationally and economically is no mean feat and a huge nail in the coffin of the idea that people in the Middle Ages lived within just a tiny radius around their villages. Yes most did, but if you were intrepid, you could sail the world even then..

Apart from grain there was the trade in wood. The enormous forests of Prussia, Poland and Lithuania provided the materials to build the cogs of the Hanseatic League members as well as the English and French vessels that fought in the hundred years war.

Another byproduct was wood ash that could be used as an abrasive cleaner, something the Flemish weavers used in cloth production. And there were the metals found in Hungary, Poland and Bohemia coming up the Vistula and some furs and beeswax from Lithuania.

But the biggest export alongside grain was beer. Beer is not something that requires a special climate like wine or a particular water quality like whisky. Anyone can make it anywhere and they have done so for centuries. Still, the Hanseatic cities became famous across Europe for their beer. Bremen and Hamburg still carry on making beer and brand names like Becks and Holsten tell of the old tradition.

Beer accounted for an estimated 8% of the daily calories consumed in the Middle Ages. It is by the way a myth that people drank beer instead of water because they were worried about hygiene. That was at best a side issue. It is more that medieval beer was extremely calorific and relatively low in alcohol, so it was a main source of energy for people who still mainly worked in manual labour.

What also set beer apart was that brewing wasn’t regulated in the same way most other trades were. Many medieval trades were organised in guilds that limited access to the profession in the interest of quality control and financial well-being of the incumbents. That constrained production and hampered economic growth.

Making beer wasn’t seen as a profession. Originally most households made their own beer, something you can still do with a beer making kit. Not everyone can make shoes, bake or butcher.

Since there were no guilds, the way the cities tried to control the production and to maintain standards for health and safety was by restricting the number of houses that were allowed to make beer. Hamburg for instance had 500 houses where the making of beer was allowed. If someone wanted to become a brewer, he did not have to marry some brewer’s widow, schmooze the guild masters and pass an examination, what he or she needed to do was buying one of the houses where brewing was allowed. That is why you often find breweries in Germany being called “Brauhaus” meaning brewer’s house, referring to the physical location where brewing was allowed.

I will now get on to a completely weird tangent so forward 45 seconds if you do not want to hear this story. One of the largest brands of beer in Brazil is called Brahma. It was founded in 1888 by a Swiss guy called Joseph Villiger together with two Brazilians carrying typical Brazilian names like Paul Fritz and Ludwig Mack. Today the company is owned by AB Imbev, parent company of Anheuser Bush. In 2020 Brahma found itself under attack by various faith groups, in particular Hindus for the use of the name Brahma, which is after all the name of the lord of creation in Hinduism. The company responded by arguing that its beer brand was named after Joseph Bramah, an English inventor of the draft pump valve, as well as the flush toilet. That was ridiculed by many, in part because there isn’t the slightest bit of evidence, the spelling is different and also because the beer pump Joseph Bramah invented was the kind that is still in use in British pubs. And that is no use for pumping Pilsener, the kind of beer Brahma mainly produces. And had the guys at Anheuser Bush who own Brahma known a few words of the German of their forefathers, they would have come up with a smarter made-up story. They could have claimed that Brahma stands for Brauhaus Mannheim or Brauhaus Mack. Not that there is any evidence for that anywhere either, but at least it sounds plausible and relates to an urban myth circulating amongst the German diaspora in Sao Paulo in the 1980s. 

Ok, back to the Hanseatic League. Brauhaus, Brewing. So, as I said, there were no brewer’s guilds. But that does not mean there weren’t quality controls. Au contraire. The city councils would often issue detailed beer regulations and qualifications for the brew masters and their assistants. These regulations are much older than the famous Reinheitsgebot which was passed in Bavaria in 1516 and adopted into national law in 1906.

Hanseatic beer allowed for more variety but had one secret ingredient, Hops. Hops altered beer in two ways. One, it made it much easier to preserve, and second, it also gave the beer the “hoppy” taste that is still a key feature of northern German beer. So far so good. The Hanseatic beer is produced in vast quantities and can be preserved better than the moonshine people made at home, and it tastes nicely hoppy.

But why would you export it? Even today despite global brands, beer is typically consumed within a modest radius from the brewery. And in the Middle Ages transport cost were much much higher than today. Transporting beer 100km overland would increase the cost by 50-70% according to Erich Pluemer.

Now let me tell you about the great Hanseatic beer city of Einbeck. Einbeck is a smallish town in Lower Saxony halfway between Hannover and Kassel. The nearest port is Hamburg 230km away and Lübeck 290km away. So that means by the time Einbeck beer gets to an exporting harbour it is already more than twice as expensive as the local beer.

Now let me tell you that Einbecker Beer was famous across Northern Europe and was drunk as far north as Bergen and Stockholm, another 900km onwards by boat. Why would people pay 5X for the imported version of a daily staple? Something they drank more than 200 litres each per year.

Well, for the same reason one has to pay through the nose for Champagne, Wagyu beef, Apple phones and Louis Vuitton handbags. It is branding. Somehow German brewers managed to convince their customers across Europe that their beer was a luxury product well worth its exaggerated price. And Einbecker stood at the top of this brand pyramid. Martin Luther was given a barrel of Einbecker to get some Dutch courage before his trial for excommunication and another when he got married.

The demand for this Chateau Lafitte of beers kept 700 brewhouses in Einbeck busy. Einbecker Bock is still available, produced by the Einbecker Brauhaus that traces itself back to 1378. Alongside Einbeck, Hamburg, Bremen and Wismar too were celebrated for their beer. But all the Hanseatic cities were exporting beer still being able to extract a premium over the local lagers.  

Right,  we are now rapidly approaching the half hour mark. And that will now be the moment where for the third time I will have to say that, sorry, I will not get to Bergen, will not talk about the Tyske Bruggen, the Hanseatic Kontor. This is becoming a bit of a running joke now. But next week I will definitely get there – Scouts honour. And I will because now everything is in place. We have gone through all the major trading products that come out of the Baltic: Wax, Fur, Copper, grain, beer, amber, wood, ash and the big one, herring. We talked about salt and how Lübeck could leverage it into access to both Novgorod and the herring trade. Next week we will find out how the league as a whole but mostly the cities in Prussia and Pomerania leverage grain and beer into access to dried cod, haddock and hake in Bergen and privileges in the greatest of all medieval trading markets, in Bruges in Flanders. I hope you will join us again.

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

And just to remind you, the sub-podcast The Hanseatic League is still running. So if you want to point a friend or relative towards the History of the Germans but want to avoid confusion, just send him there. The Hanseatic League is available everywhere you can get the History of the Germans.

And last but not least the bibliography. For this episode I again relied heavily on:

Philippe Dollinger: Die Hanse – definitely my go-to-book for this season

Die Hanse, Lebenswirklichkeit und Mythos, herausgegeben von Jürgen Bracker, Volker Henn and Rainer Postel

Rolf Hammel-Kieslow: Die Hanse

The Copper Mines of Falun and the Fisheries of Skane

“on its eastern side the sea breaks through and cuts off the western side of Skaane; and this sea commonly yields each year an abundant haul to the nets of the fishers. Indeed, the whole sound is apt to be so thronged with fish that any craft which strikes on them is with difficulty got off by hard rowing, and the prize is captured no longer by tackle, but by simple use of the hands.” So writes the the late 12th century Danish chronicler Saxo Grammaticus about Zealand, the island he believed to be the most delightful province and heart of Denmark.

In the year 1400, 550 ships arrived in Lübeck, bringing 65,000 barrels of salted Herring to the city at the mouth of the Trave River. But that was only a fraction of the total that is estimated to have been as much as 300,000 barrels of herring a year that were caught in the narrow sound between Copenhagen and Malmo and then processed in a giant temporary market town on the Skanör peninsula. All these vast quantities of fish were needed to feed the European population who had not only acquired a good dose of piety but also as many as 140 fast days per year when the consumption of hot-blooded animals was banned.

How the trade in Baltic Herring became a monopoly of the Hanseatic league and the backbone of its trading network is what we will discuss in this episode. No worries, it is not just about salting techniques and the difficulties of shipping a load of fish over thousands of miles. There will be a battle with knights and everything…..and an extended detour into the largest copper mine in Europe that funded the 30-years war. I hope you will enjoy it.

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Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 111: Hewing and Herring

“on its eastern side the sea breaks through and cuts off the western side of Skaane; and this sea commonly yields each year an abundant haul to the nets of the fishers. Indeed, the whole sound is apt to be so thronged with fish that any craft which strikes on them is with difficulty got off by hard rowing, and the prize is captured no longer by tackle, but by simple use of the hands.” So writes the the late 12th century Danish chronicler Saxo Grammaticus about Zealand, the island he believed to be the most delightful province and heart of Denmark.

In the year 1400, 550 ships arrived in Lübeck, bringing 65,000 barrels of salted Herring to the city at the mouth of the Trave River. But that was only a fraction of the total that is estimated to have been as much as 300,000 barrels of herring a year that were caught in the narrow sound between Copenhagen and Malmo and then processed in a giant temporary market town on the Skanör peninsula. All these vast quantities of fish were needed to feed the European population who had not only acquired a good dose of piety but also as many as 140 fast days per year when the consumption of hot-blooded animals was banned.

How the trade in Baltic Herring became a monopoly of the Hanseatic league and the backbone of its trading network is what we will discuss in this episode. No worries, it is not just about salting techniques and the difficulties of shipping a load of fish over thousands of miles. There will be a battle with knights and everything…..and an extended detour into the largest copper mine in Europe that funded the 30-years war. I hope you will enjoy it.

But before we start let me tell you that the History of the Germans Podcast is advertising free thanks to the generous support from patrons. And you can become a patron too and enjoy exclusive bonus episodes and other privileges from the price of a latte per month. All you have to do is sign up at patreon.com/historyofthegermans or on my website historyofthegermans.com. You find all the links in the show notes. And thanks a lot to Carsten H., Marilyn M-J., Brendan and Steffen D. who have already signed up.

And a bit of housekeeping. In episode 109 I said that the St. Olaf’s yard in Novgorod was named after the Swedish king Saint Olaf. That was not accurate. Even though the Gotlanders were nominally Swedish subjects, they worshipped king Olaf of Norway in their church in Novgorod. Sorry about that. I am not sure how that happened, but it did. Will try to do better next time.

As for the accurate parts of the podcast, we ended last week with the opening up of new trade routes to Novgorod and Smolensk via what is today Latvia and Estonia. The cities that were founded there, most prominently Riga, Reval (modern day Tallin) and Doprat (modern day Tartu) had joined together with Visby into one of the regional subgroups of the Hanse, the Thirds or Drittel in German. Theirs was called the Livonian Third.

The Livonian Third’s main trade was in the Eastern Wares, the beeswax, fur and silk road wares that came in via Novgorod and the Dnieper River. They also had one more trade we have not talked about, and that was the trade with Sweden.

When I think of Swedish exports, I think of obviously Abba, Tetra Pak, Ikea and mobile phones. But for centuries, Sweden’s biggest exports were metals, and in particular copper. When I say centuries, I mean centuries. There is archaeological evidence that some mining activity took place as far back as 850 AD at the mine at Falu Gruva, about 200km northwest of Stockholm. This enormous mine at some point provided 2/3rds of Europe’s copper supply until it was finally closed in 1992.

Copper from Falu Gruva did not only cover the roofs of the palace of Versailles but is also the base material for some of the most iconic images we have of Sweden, the red painted wooden cottages. That red paint was made from the sludge of the mine, mixed with water, rye flour, linseed oil and other ingredients to produce an excellent anti-weathering cover.

Falu Gruva was one of the most important, if not the most important economic activity in Sweden. It funded most of its wars when Sweden was a European superpower paying for Gustav Adolf’s rampage across the German lands in the 30-years war and Charles XII unintentional trip to Constantinople. As the Regency declared “This kingdom stands or falls by the Great Copper Mountain!”

So, what has all that to do with the Hanseatic League? Well, quite a lot actually. German merchants showed up in Sweden almost right from the beginning. Sometime around 1173 Henry the Lion had managed to get an agreement with the king of Sweden that protected their merchants and allowed Germans to settle in Swedish cities. That process accelerated after the former trading and royal centre in Sigtuna was destroyed by raiders from across the Baltic Sea. In 1252 the country’s regent Birger Jarl invited German merchants and artisans to come and help building Sigtuna’s replacement, the newly founded city of Stockholm. Stockholm never became entirely a city of foreign merchants like Riga or Tallin, nor did Sweden get taken over by a German speaking ruling class as Latvia and Estonia had been. But the German population had a major and sometimes dominant position inside the major cities, in particular in Stockholm. They brought their customs and ideas about city governance to their new home. The Swedish language too has been heavily influenced by the low German the Hanseatic Merchants spoke. Many terms, in particular those relating to artisan products, trading and politics have their roots in lower German. Whether the German influence on the Swedish language was indeed as significant as that of Norman French on the English language I am not entirely convinced. But if any of you is a Swedish linguist, I would love to hear what you think.

These Germans who came to Sweden were initially attracted by the opportunity to export agricultural products, in particular butter as well as furs. But when our intrepid Hanse merchants got wind of this mountain of copper out there in the wilderness, they realised that they had hit on the jackpot.

Though the mining in Falu Gruva had begun in the 9th century, it wasn’t a particularly professional operation. Most of the miners were farmers in their day job and went down to look for copper in their spare time.

The Lübeck merchants on the other hand knew about the most professional mining operation in northern Europe, the great silver mine in Goslar. They recruited mining professionals from there to come up to Falu Gruva and develop this abundantly large deposit. Like the merchants in Stockholm, the miners from Goslar brought with them their traditions and ways to organise tings. They were free men with highly sought after skills. Hence, they were given wide ranging privileges to elect their own representatives who negotiated their pay, who settled disputes within the community and set standards for the safety and operation of mines. The mine hence functioned largely autonomous, just overseen by a royal official.

As for ownership of the mine itself, that was split between Swedish nobles and the German merchants from Lübeck and Stockholm. In 1347 King Magnus visited the mine and felt a fundamental reorganisation was needed. He laid out the respective rights and privileges of mine owners and master miners, probably based on how things had been supposed to work since the 13th century. Interestingly this document keeps getting cited as the incorporation document of Stora Koppersberg Bergbelaged AB, a subsidiary of Stora Enso, one of Swedens large industrial conglomerates. If true, it  would make Stora Enso indeed the oldest joint stock company in the World. Whilst the New York Times and Al Gore are pushing the story, many historians are doubtful of that notion given that the mine owners and master miners were a long way from pooling their resources, and in the latter’s case an even longer way from lounging about and drawing dividends.

What is however not much in dispute is that until the Late Middle Ages Lübeck merchants dominated the Copper export business out of Sweden. Even the German merchants in Stockholm struggled to get a look in. we know that between 1368 and 1370 just 9 Lübeck merchants accounted for 60% of the copper exports from Sweden, a level of concentration most unusual in the Hanseatic league.

Apart from copper, iron ore was another important Swedish export, though we are still a long way from the days when Sweden was one of the largest sources of iron ore in Europe in particular for the Ruhr.

Whilst Sweden was coerced into selling its most valuable resource via Lübeck, and only via Lübeck, their neighbours in the West, the Danes too found themselves cornered by the aggressive Hanseatic merchants for their most valuable commodity, the humble herring.

Today we eat very little herring, which is a shame since this oily fish can be absolutely delicious. But it isn’t just its taste that made it the Middle Ages favourite fish. Herring have a number of great advantages. The first one is that they often move in large schools as solitary herring are getting quickly confused and lost. The name Herring might go back to the Old High German word “heri” meaning “lots” or “many”. All you need it finding a place where the school of herring passes regularly and you can catch them on an industrial scale.

And Herring are exceptionally good at reproducing. A female herring lays 30,000 eggs on average that she lets drop to the bottom of the spawning grounds after which the male herring release a cloud of milt over the same area. Who ever said romance is dead. What is particularly helpful is that different herring populations spawn at different times so that there is less seasonality with these fish. And finally the Herring tend to return back to the spawning grounds where they have been conceived going down the same route every year.

In the Middle Ages Baltic herring would spawn somewhere in the Baltic sea, we do not know exactly and then move out into the North Sea from where they would return between July and September. Now if you have been good at geography or can find an atlas, take a look at the connection between the North Sea and the Baltic. Yep, right across that entrance into the Baltic lay two massive islands, Fyn/Fuenen and Zealand. There is a way through but the navigationally challenged Herring tend to go through the straighter gap called the Oeresund which is just 4km wide at its narrowest point. And that is where every summer millions of Herring pass through, making good old Saxo Grammaticus claim that you would get your boat stuck if you tried rowing across.

Another great advantage of the humble herring is that it is very oily. That means it is easy to preserve. They can be pickled as Matjes, smoked as Kippers or simply salted.

There we are. A near inexhaustible supply of fish, caught in a geographical net laid there cunningly by Slartibartfast and ready to be salted, pickled smoked or otherwise cured for a long journey across Europe. A Europe where for 140 days a year the consumption of warm blooded animals was forbidden. And since not everyone fancies Alligator, Lizard, Puffin or, weirdly, beaver, the majority of those who could afford animal protein opted for fish.

That leaves only one question. Who will get all the money from that Bonanza. Another look on the map gives you the answer. Both shores of the Oeresund were part of Denmark for a large chunk of the Middle Ages. So surely it is the king of Denmark who will be shipping that most desirable commodity all across Christianity.

Well we know he didn’t. So why was that?

One reason was often believed to have been the Battle of Bornhoeved.  In this rather epic encounter where fighters on both side waded through blood and the king of Denmark lost an eye, the future of the Baltic region was decided for a few centuries to come.

In that battle King Valdemar II of Denmark, son of Valdemar the Victorious faced the counts of Holstein and Schwerin, the duke of Saxony, the bishop of Bremen and troops from Lübeck and Hamburg. On Valdemar’s side was Otto the child, grandson of Henry the Lion and not many others.

Before he was so crushingly humiliated Valdemar II had expelled the counts of Holstein, fought over the archbishopric of Hamburg-Bremen, run a crusade into Estonia and forced the dukes of Mecklenburg and Pomerania under his suzerainty. Even Lübeck had become part of his Danish empire. The young emperor Frederick II still fighting Otto IV had to accept these changed circumstances in 1220.

Valdemar’s problems began when he fell foul of one of his recently acquired vassals, the count of Schwerin over a property deal that had gone sour. Or for sleeping with the count’s wife, or both. When I talk about property here, I mean a whole county, not just a detached villa with delightful views.

The count of Schwerin responded by imprisoning the king and his son when they came over for a relaxing hunting party in 1223. Now the count of Schwerin needed allies since the friends of Waldemar, including the pope, put pressure on him to release the king.

These allies were the sworn enemies of Waldemar, count Adolf IV of Holstein who had been expelled from his lands and bishop Gebhard of Hamburg Bremen for the same reason. 2 years into the imprisonment of king Waldemar, his son in law, a member of the Wettiner clan musters the energy to come up and try to free him. But count Adolf IV and bishop Gebhard cut that short and the next family member joins Waldemar in his certainly most comfortable prison in the castle of Dannenberg. At that point Waldemar realises the game is up and starts negotiating.

Terms are tough. Return the lands of the Holsteins, Schwerins, and the bishops, release the newly acquired vassals in Mecklenburg and Pomerania from their oaths, pay 45,000 mark of silver and just generally Foxtrot Oscar.

Waldemar did sign at the dotted line and went back home to Denmark, fully intent on doing not a single thing on the long list of concessions. Instead he raised an army and got back to the job of conquering Holstein. He has some initial success and forces the Dithmarscher, these free peasants who live like the ancient Germanic tribes, back into his army. He also finds support from the house of Welf in the form of Otto the Child, who is by now no longer a child, just still called that.

His opponents have also been busy recruiting new members and can secure the duke Albrecht of Saxony, one of Albrecht the Bear’s descendants.

On July 27, 1227 it is showtime. Either side sets up in the usual order of a central contingent with the king on one side and Count Adolf IV on the other plus two wings each. Behind the Danish army were the Dithmarscher as a reserve and behind the German princes the Mecklenburger. That is about as much battle order there is. Because once the two armies have made contact it is the usual man against man fighting.

The whole process dragged on for a long time and casualties were high on both sides. There are many different versions of what ultimately decided the battle. There is the apparition of the virgin Mary displaying an unexpected fondness for kidnappers and a more credible stories that the Dithmarscher swapped sides in the midst of the battle. Or it was simply that one side was hammering harder and longer at the other one. In any event, Waldemar was injured and fled the field of battle.

The net result of this encounter was decisive. Waldemar gave up all ambition on the lands south of the Eider River, meaning the Holy Roman empire returned back to its borders that Frederick II had so carelessly sacrificed. This border will play an important role in that intractable Schleswig-Holstein question that according to Lord Palmerstone’s famous quote only three people ever really understood. I am confident you will remember that when we get there in about 3 years.

The count of Holstein regained his county and some. The Schauenburger will from here on out be major players in Danish politics. Mecklenburg and Schwerin return to being imperial princes instead of Danish vassals. Albrecht of Saxony gained Lauenburg and Ratzeburg. The Dithmarscher moved into nominal vassalage of the bishop of Bremen but basically lived as a free peasant republic until 1599. Basically instead of one dominant political power in the Baltic there were many medium sized ones, none of which strong enough to stand up to the Hanseatic League.

And many hundreds of miles north the Livonian Brothers of the Sword use the weakness of the Danes to take Tallin and fill it with German merchants.

And Lübeck, Lübeck gets extended privileges as a free imperial city making it now entirely independent of any of the neighbouring powers. And in the traditional telling the augmentation of Lübeck and the fall of the king of Denmark allowed the Hanse merchants to grab hold of the Herring trade in Scania.

But that is not quite true. Yes, a weakened Denmark is a good thing for the merchants, but as it happened King Waldemar had been a great sponsor of Lübeck and had invited them to come to Scania to trade Herring long before his defeat in 1227.

The reason the Danes allowed the Hanse in was the same reason why the Gotlander took them along to Novgorod. It was about the white gold, salt. Salt that Lübeck merchants could procure from Luneburg, from Oldesloe and from Halle an der Saale. Without salt the Herring could not be preserved or at least not in the quantities required. So the Lübecker traded salt for access to the trade in Herring.

Though the Danes had no salt, the Hanse merchants weren’t the only ones in the whole wide world who had salt. There was the Baie of Bourgneuf. Never heard of it? Me neither. But in the Middle Ages this bay on the western French coast just south of where the Loire enters the Atlantic was the largest source of salt in Europe. The bay used to be significantly larger than it is today because the vast salt fields where they evaporated the water and collected the valuable white crystals has shifted the coastline 20km westwards.

In the early 13th century mainly Dutch and English merchants collected the salt there and brought it to Denmark to salt the herring. They then took the barrels of salted herring back to England or Holland for onward distribution.

In the absence of their own salt, the Danes role in the Herring business was limited to catching the actual fish and to organise the trade.

In the Middle Ages commerce went either through major trading centres where merchants would live all year round like say Venice or Bruges. Or it would happen on fairs, where merchants from all over would get together on specific dates to exchange wares. Whether it was organised as fairs or as permanent establishments was a question of whether there was enough trading volume in the place all year around.

The most important fairs in the early Middle Ages were those of Champagne in France. These were six annual get-togethers of merchants from Flanders, Italy, Spain and Germany that took place in four cities, Troyes, Provins, Bar-sur-Aube and Lagny, each lasting about six weeks. The advantage of the fair was that it concentrated demand and supply by artificially constraining the time trading could happen. It is a bit like stock exchanges used to have limited trading hours so that everybody was compelled to bring their buy and sell orders in at the same time.

The Champagne fairs declined as the European economy grew and trade expanded. Once there was enough demand and supply to sustain trade flows throughout the year, they got bundled in one place, which for northern Europe at the time was Flanders, in particular Bruges. Later it went to Antwerp, then Amsterdam and finally London.

The fair that the Danish king set up on the small peninsula of Skanoer-Falsterbo was seasonal, less because of lack of sufficient demand but because of the seasonality of the supply. The Herring only appeared between July and September.

If you go to the Skanoer peninsula today, you are likely coming for the vast sandy beaches or to see the Falsterbo horse show. But these rather modest little towns had once been one of the most important economic centres in Europe.

The way the kings of Denmark had organised the fair was as follows. Each of the trading cities was given a specific area on the peninsula, a so-called Vitte where they could process and sell the Herring. On these enclosures the merchants would establish wooden sheds or houses in which to process the herring and store the supplies. The Vitten of Lübeck and of Danzig/Gdansk were the largest, each about 6 to 10 hectares all filled with wooden buildings.

As I said, catching the herring was largely reserved for Danish fishermen. They would land their catch and the merchants would buy it off their boats and bring it to their factory. There mostly Danish and German women would clean and then salt the fish and put them into barrels. Once that is done, the merchants may either sell his herring right there at the fair or have it shipped to their hometown. The amount of shipping that got into Skanoer was truly astounding. Lübeck alone sent 550 ships annually, some quite small, but others able to take 400 barrels of Herring down to the Trave River. In 1400 there were 900 registered Herring importers from Lübeck alone. Estimates range from 200,000 to 300,000 barrels of herring getting shipped from Skanoer when the place was at its peak. Lübeck accounted for 65,000 of them, so if we extrapolate from there, we are talking about literally thousands of ships going in and out of that place, a place that did not even have a real harbour so that all these barrels had to be rolled down to the beach, put on a dinghy or small boat and then transferred to a larger vessel.

Such a massive congregation of merchants always means that other things than Herring would be traded there as well. And since only some of the merchants came from the Baltic and others from Holland and England, each bringing different wares, the fair quickly became a major exchange for cloth, fur, beeswax, salt, spices, silk, butter, grain and anything else the medieval mind desired, not just herring. Thousands of people came to work on the Vitten to salt the herring, to bring the fish ashore, to ship goods from land to shore. There would have been entertainment put on for all these people who stayed there for a few months, plays, jugglers and musicians. Basically an enormous festival, one of Europe’s greatest and most profitable parties.

In all the revelry, there was something that irritated our Hanseatic merchants, and that was the presence of what they called the Umlandfahrer, the traders who came in from the North Sea, from Holand and England to buy the herring and sell their cloth. And these guys also had access to the resource that we have seen sits at the heart of Hanseatic influence in the Baltic, salt. The approach they took was twofold.

One was to send their own ships out to the bay of Bourgneuf and bring back that sea salt from there and on the next journey stop in England and Flanders to sell the Herring. That was even a necessity for those Hanseatic cities that did not have a ready access to the salt of Luneburg, Halle and Oldesloe like Gdansk. Thanks to increasingly aggressive tactics the Hanseatic merchants crowded the Umlandfahrer out of the Herring trade.

Finally in the late 14th century the Hanse fought multiple wars with Denmark we will discuss in more detail later. These being successful the Hanseatic League took over Skanoer for a period and formally expelled the non-Hanseatic traders, thereby creating a monopoly for Scania herring.

Did it work? No it didn’t. By the late 15th century herring export from Skanoer had dropped to 50,000 barrels.

The big trading fair was a mere shadow of its former self. No more trade in anything but herring, fewer ships, less entertainment, no major bands coming to play, just a lonely dude with greasy hair and a bontempi organ.

This decline in the Herring trade was in part a function of the expulsion of foreign traders. The Hanseatic merchants were now shipping all that beeswax, fur, cloth and so forth directly to destination without stopping in the Oresund.

All this had also coincided with a decline in the number of Herring that passed through the Oresund. We know that their number declined, but the exact reason is unclear. My money is on the most obvious, overfishing. Herring tend to go back to the places where they were born. If one takes out a lot of the Herring who go back and forth into the Baltic, their North Sea cousins and competitors will take over their feeding grounds leading to a gradual decline in the population. There may also have been an impact from the shift in the climate that sets in from the 13th century onwards.

In any event, the Baltic herring supply gradually declined in the 15th century and was replaced by North Sea herring caught by Dutch fishermen and distributed via the emerging Dutch trading centres of Amsterdam, Delft etc.

What finally did for the Herring trade was the Reformation which abolished the concept of fast days and forcible eating of fish.

But this is still a long way away. Next week will talk again about fish, this time about dried cod, halibut and hake from Norway. And we will talk about grain, about the cities founded along the coast of Mecklenburg, Pomerania and into the lands of the Teutonic knights and finally about how the Hanseatic league uses its economic muscle to make the Kontor of Bergen the monopoly in the trade of Norway’s main export. I know I promised to do that last week, but I got waylaid by the story of Swedish copper, which I think was worth it, or wasn’t it?

You should know that this project is as much a journey of discovery for me as it is for you. I do usually know roughly what I will be talking about 2 to 3 weeks ahead, but the actual research takes place in the days before the recording. And if I find something interesting, I tend to dig deeper even if that means the schedule gets a bit messed up. So let’s see what I will dig up for next week. I hope to see you then.

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

And last but not least the bibliography.

For this episode I again relied heavily on:

Philippe Dollinger: Die Hanse – definitely my go-to-book for this season

Die Hanse, Lebenswirklichkeit und Mythos, herausgegeben von Jürgen Bracker, Volker Henn and Rainer Postel

Rolf Hammel-Kieslow: Die Hanse

If you want to know more about the story of the Swedish copper mining have a look at the Falu Gruva website Falu Gruva – Upptäck tusen år av historia or go to the Unesco world heritage site about Falu Gruva and look through the application for the inclusion on the World heritage List which gives a very detailed account of the mining activities there: Mining Area of the Great Copper Mountain in Falun (unesco.org)

And finally I have to thank the Scandinavian History Podcast which helps me understanding the Danish, Swedish and Norwegian perspective on these events: https://podfollow.com/1536322900

 Riga, Reval/Tallinn, Dorpat/Taru, Narva

“In the monastery of Segeberg there was a man of worthy life, and with venerable grey hair, Meinhard by name, a priest of the Order of Saint Augustine. He came to Livonia with a band of merchants simply for the sake of Christ and only to preach. For German merchants, bound together through familiarity with the Livonians, were accustomed to go to Livonia, frequently sailing up the Daugava River.”

So begins the chronicle of Henry of Livonia, a German missionary who tells about the foundation of the bishopric and city of Riga, the conversion of the pagan population of what is today Latvia and Estonia, and the cruel antics of the Livonian brotherhood of the sword.

In this episode we will touch upon the Livonian Sword brothers and we take a first glimpse at the Teutonic knights, but this is the history of the Hanseatic League and so what we really focus on are the merchants, specifically the merchants from the “Society of German merchants who frequently travel to Gotland”, the Gotlandfahrer who we have met last week. Because the tale we hear today adds the other important streak to the structure of the Hanseatic League, its willingness to use military force in the pursuit of profits.

Hello and welcome to the History of the Germans: Episode 110 – The Livonian Cities

“In the monastery of Segeberg there was a man of worthy life, and with venerable grey hair, Meinhard by name, a priest of the Order of Saint Augustine. He came to Livonia with a band of merchants simply for the sake of Christ and only to preach. For German merchants, bound together through familiarity with the Livonians, were accustomed to go to Livonia, frequently sailing up the Daugava River.”

So begins the chronicle of Henry of Livonia, a German missionary who tells about the foundation of the bishopric and city of Riga, the conversion of the pagan population of what is today Latvia and Estonia, and the cruel antics of the Livonian brotherhood of the sword.

In this episode we will touch upon the Livonian Sword brothers and we take a first glimpse at the Teutonic knights, but this is the history of the Hanseatic League and so what we really focus on are the merchants, specifically the merchants from the “Society of German merchants who frequently travel to Gotland”, the Gotlandfahrer who we have met last week. Because the tale we hear today adds the other important streak to the structure of the Hanseatic League, its willingness to use military force in the pursuit of profits.

But before we start let me tell you that the History of the Germans Podcast is advertising free thanks to the generous support from patrons. And you can become a patron too and enjoy exclusive bonus episodes and other privileges from the price of a latte per month. All you have to do is sign up at patreon.com/historyofthegermans or on my website historyofthegermans.com. You find all the links in the show notes. And thanks a lot to Spencer B., James K., Atlas M and Kate R.-S. who have already signed up.

When we left the emerging Hanse last week, they had just established themselves on the island of Gotland, had founded the city of Visby and convinced the Gotlanders to take them to Novgorod, the great entrepôt of all the goods the wide steppes of Eastern Europe could offer. There they had established a trading compound to buy the beeswax Europe needed to bathe its churches in divine light and the furs the fine lords and ladies of the splendid medieval courts craved. And last but not least Novgorod stood at the end of that vast system of interconnected rivers that allowed the Varanghians to travel from Scandinavia to the Black Sea, and on to Constantinople. On those same rivers thick, dark fir tree honey went south, and silks and spices came up north.

Thanks to the friendship or naivety of the Gotlanders, the Lübeck merchants had wrangled themselves into this trade. They brought up cloth from Flanders and Westphalia to the shivering Northerners as well as their valuable salt needed to preserve food for the winter.

Getting to Novgorod was however a challenge. It involved sailing roughly 800km or 500 miles from Gotland to Kronstadt, the island off St. Petersburg where the wares had to be moved to another set of ships. Then they had to go 130km up the Neva River into the Ladoga sea, most of that whilst being under constant threat from raiders. In Ladoga there is another change of vessel for the last 200km trip again upriver to Novgorod.  

There had to be a quicker and simpler way. Geographically there is one – absolutely. There is the Daugava, Dvina or Düna River that flows into the Baltic a mere 400km or 193m east of Gotland. The Daugava is quite a useful river. If you track it upstream you get to Vitebsk where you have portage links to Smolensk where one can pick up the Dnjepr down to Kyiv and Karkiv and the Black Sea. Or you can go further to Tver where there is another Portage link to Novgorod.  And if that wasn’t enough, from the mouth of the Daugava/ Düna you can pick up a land route directly to Novgorod which may be long drag, but along an established route.

So, why are the Gotlanders and their Lübisch friends not going there? Well, they were. As our new fried, Henry the Livonian said at the very beginning of this podcast, the German merchants were familiar with this route as early as the 1180s.

But there was a minor problem with it. The people who lived at the mouth of the Daugava were pagans. And not any pagans, but a Baltic-Finnish peoples the Germans called Letts or Livonians in Latin. The Livs were however not the only ones living in the area. There were other groups, the Semigallians, the Selonians, the Latgalians, the Curonians and the Lithuanians who controlled large areas to the soouth.

All of these groups saw no reason to change their religion or their way of life. So when Meinhard of Segeberg, the German missionary arrived in 1184, he had an uphill struggle. He settled on the lower Daugava at a place called Uexkuell/Ikskile and surprisingly converted a few locals. But progress was slow.

In 1185 the Lithuanians attacked the Livonians and burned the village of Ikskile. Meinhard and the other inhabitants fled into the woods where the missionary came up with an idea how to accelerate the conversion process. If he were to build a modern stone fort to protect the local population, the Livonians would see the superiority of the Christian faith and gratefully join his flock. So he made a deal, if the Livonians were to convert, he would get some specialists from Gotland who would build them some brand new fortifications. Deal done, a modern fort was rising up in Ikskile. After it prove its worth in an attack from the Semigallians, the people of neighbouring village of Holm asked for the same, and again the holy bishop called upon the masons of Gotland to help.

But bribery turned out not to be a successful method to instil spiritual devotion. As soon as the last stone was laid, the ungrateful Livonians took a bath in the Daugava something they believed would wash off the stain of their baptism.

Meinhard now minus a great deal of money and reputation had to return to the piecemeal missionary approach of one soul at a time. Despite the setback, back home in Germany the archbishop of Hamburg-Bremen got very excited about Meinhard’s attempts to convert the Livonians.

He elevated Meinhard to bishop of Livonia and the modest churchlet of Ikskile to the rank of Cathedral. That elevation did however do nothing much to foster Mienhard’s efforts. In fact he kept been taken to the cleaners by the Livonians. This began to irritate the holy man to the point that he made plans with the German merchants who kept coming up the Daugava to trade fur and beeswax. The merchants promised to take Meinhard back to Gotland where he was to muster an army to forcibly convert the obstinate Livonians. Meinhard, who – spoiler alert- will become Saint Meinhard followed Saint Bernhard of Clairvaux in the doctrine that cold hard steel is a surefire means to implant the Apostle’s Creed.

At the last minute the Livonians – afraid of the military confrontation- convinced Meinhard not to go, promising to get baptised again and become good Christians after all. Meinhard went back to Ikskile, only to find his recent converts splashing about in the Daugava again. That is when he sends one of his monks to go to Rome and ask pope Celestine III to sanction a crusade against these duplicitous  Livonians. Before the answer made it back to Meinhard, he died surrounded by his monks, but only very few parishioners.

The ball was now in the court of the archbishop of Hamburg-Bremen. As you may remember from last series, the archbishops of Hamburg-Bremen have been hankering for a role as the highest church authority in Scandinavia and the Baltic since, well since there was Christianity in Scandinavia and the Baltic. And you will also remember that at avery junction, their hopes were dashed. The pope established an archbishopric in Lund that took charge of all Danish and Swedish churches. Then the emperor Barbarossa gave his rights over the bishoprics of Oldenburg, Mecklenburg and Ratzeburg to Henry the Lion, who made them effectively his fiefs.

This Livonian opportunity really excited the archbishop who was at the time our old friend Hartwich, the last of the counts of Stade. He and his family were the perennial losers of the late 12th century. His elder brothers lost the March of Brandenburg to Albrecht the Bear, well and their lives too. His sister was murdered in her bed by men of the bishop of Hildesheim after she had previously been ousted as queen of Denmark and Hartwich himself, well, he had tried to give the county of Stade, his family inheritance to the see of Bremen, but failed when Henry the Lion effectively stole it from under his nose. Hartwich was a frustrated old man who desperately needed a success.

So he chose one of his associates, a man called Berthold to go to Livonia and make it his, or theirs. Berthold is a proactive man and since the papal patent for a crusade in Livonia had arrived, he could recruit knights, thugs and anyone able to hold a sword and in dire need of forgiveness. These men promised to go on crusade with him and that is what they did. Well that is also all that they were prepared to do. They came along with Berthold, burned, broke and baptised, but once the time of their penance was up, they got on the next available ship and sailed home. Berthold would probably have done the same had his horse not run away with him straight into the midst of a Livonian army who tore him limb from limb.

Enter stage left the third bishop of Livonia sent by Hartwich. This time Hartwich digs deep into his most precious possessions, the members of his ever-dwindling clan. Albrecht of Buxtehude is the archbishop’s nephew. And he is not the kind of man who falls for a Livonian’s ruse. When he arrives with 500 men in 23 ships, the Livonians promise to get baptised, as per standard procedure. But this time Albrecht does not leave it at that. He invites the leaders of the Livonians to a drinking party. Once they are all seated, he has the doors bolted and tells them that they will not get out until they provide suitable hostages that ensure their future good behaviour.

Albrecht is then shown a site a bit further downriver from Ikskile that he judges to be a more suitable location for his cathedral city. As it lay along a tributary called the Riga, the city he founded in 1201 is called Riga. Riga was not intended as a city for the Livonians. It was a place for Christian religious institutions and the bishop’s allies, the crusaders and the merchants. He moved the seat of the bishopric from Ikskile to Riga. He founded several monasteries that took their place inside the new settlement, and he offered it as a place for German and other merchants to live and trade.

Riga became the basis from where the new arrivals began their conquest of what is today the countries of Latvia and Estonia. The timing was pretty much ideal. Emperor Henry VI had died in 1197 in the midst of the preparations for a huge crusade. Now this crusade is not happening, but vows had been made. Many of these armed pilgrims were diverted to Livonia. The subsequent civil war between Philip of Swabia and Otto IV created many opportunities for murder, maiming and the breaking of oaths that required the cleansing powers of a crusade. That alone provided a steady flow of thugs ready to come fighting. Beyond that the merchants from Dortmund, Muenster, Soest and Lübeck, to name just a few knew that there were enormous riches to be made in the trade with the East and the key to those lay in the mouth of the Daugava. All Albert and Hartwig had to do was to go around Germany once a year and drum up support for the colony in the far north.

Riga filled up and many of those who came saw their hopes for wealth and power fulfilled. From this time onwards until 1918, the countries of Latvia and Estonia were split into two social groups, the Latvians and Estonians who spoke their languages and a German-speaking ruling class that controlled the land, the church and the government. The most successful amongst those new arrivals were members of Alberts and Hartwig’s extended family. Their brothers, cousins and brothers in law swamped the newly conquered country. The dynasties they founded, the Uexkuells, the Tisenhusen and the von der Ropp played an outsized role in the history of Latvia and Estonia. So good old Hartwig, after all his ordeals finally saw some of his ambitions fulfilled, at the expense of the inhabitants of a far-away land.

One institution that Albert created had become particularly famous, the Livonian brothers of the Sword. This was a knightly order, like the Templars, the Hospitallers and the Teutonic Knights, though they were specifically designated for the Nordic crusade in Livonia. Its members were not just noblemen, but they also admitted merchants.

Which finally gets us back into the story of the Hanseatic League. What role did they play in all this? A very large one indeed. The 23 ships Albert’s first warband arrived on, well they had been provided by the Society of German Merchants who frequently travel to Gotland, the Gotlandfahrer we heard about last week. And then there is the question of why the crusaders headed to the mouth of the Daugava. There is no shortage of pagans along the Baltic coast, so if the purpose of all this had been to convert them, Riga would not have been an obvious destination. The Prussians and Lithuanians were a lot closer and even more fiercely opposed to Christianity and books. The chronicler Henry of Livonia says quite explicitly that it was the merchants who had brought Meinhard of Segeberg to Livonia. All in, though other players were important, the crusade into Livonia was at least partly organised and initiated by the Gotlandfahrer who were looking for a shorter route to Novgorod and the markets of the east.

This may also be a good moment to talk about the social background of these merchants. Merchants, and what we mean here are long distance merchants, not local traders. They came from three different groups.

The first were men who had started out as Ministeriales, these unfree serfs who received a full knightly or ecclesiastical training to serve their lord as soldiers or administrators.

These were quite common amongst the merchant class in cities that had been seats of bishops or major princes. And that is not a surprise. They were often in charge of markets, tolls, taxes etc., and hence had both understanding of and access to finance. In 12th century Cologne there was a man called Gerhard Unmaze who became immensely rich as a merchant and banker financing his lord’s wars against Henry the Lion.

The other group were free landowners who had a base in the city from where they sold their produce and then gradually shifted to trading not just their own but third-party wares.

And finally there are the people who came from all walks of life, entrepreneurial artisans, the administrators of ecclesiastical or princely manors and sometimes just men or women who had a small amount of capital and turned it into a large pile by placing their bets right.

One thing they all had in common was access to capital. To trade beeswax and fur with Novgorod, wine with England or grain and fish with Norway required the funds to charter a vessel and fill it with goods to sell. It would then take months to get to the destination, sell the goods and buy others before returning and selling those wares. Only then would there be a profit. Hence in the initial phase of the Hansa, becoming a merchant required some start-up capital, something only the Ministeriales, the free landowners and some artisans and some commoners had. Later there would be financing options that opened the profession up to others who had toiled in the counting house of a merchant or trained on the ship of a successful captain.

What is interesting is that until the end of the Middle Ages these long-distance merchants once admitted to their cities guilt would not experience much social differentiation with the nobility. Their lifestyle was almost identical. Whether you fight in a king’s army or undertake arduous journeys, in both cases military prowess is a crucial part of your life. The luxuries you use and display are the same. Knights who became merchants did not take a step down in their social ranking, at least not in the 12th and 13th century.

Hence it is no surprise the Livonian brother of the Sword admit merchants into their ranks and merchants from Bremen and Lübeck were instrumental in setting up the Teutonic Knights in Akron..

The sword brothers as they are often called were never particularly numerous. Estimates are of 80 to 120, though in battle they would weigh in at about 1,000 to 1,500 with all their attendants, squires and infantry support. They were also a bit of a disgrace. They had been given the same statute as the Templars, but their background and general demeanour was a bit tougher. The first master was killed by one of the brothers with an axe and there was almost no crime these guys had not been accused of. Their military usefulness was also limited since the terrain was not really suited for heavily armoured knights. Where they excelled was in organising the crusades and building and defending forts.

If the Sword brother’s weren’t the secret weapon, what really accounted for the bishop’s success was that the local peoples were divided. All these different tribes were regularly at each other’s throats plus the Lithuanians and Russians were a constant threat. Smart diplomacy and inducements provided by the German merchants were ways to gradually wear down the opposition and taking hold of their lands.

In the 25 years following the foundation of Riga, the bishop and his allies, the merchants, the sword brothers and the crusaders subdued the various peoples who lived along the Daugava and north up into what is now Estonia. The Danish king Waldemar also showed up in the region and Albert and Valdemar agreed on a separation of zones of influence. The Russian prince of Polotsk, the nominal overlord of Livonia, was forced to accept the changed circumstances.

Nevertheless the situation for the bishop and the Swordbrothers remained fragile. The land was found to be poor and war was expensive. The brothers tried to fill this gap by first increasing levies on their serfs, then by demanding a bigger share of the spoils from the bishop and finally by attacking Danish positions in Estonia. In 1230 they tried to merge with the Teutonic Knights who were based in Prussia, a few hundred miles south on the other side of Lithuania. The Teutonic knights turned them down saying that the Sword brothers were quote “people who followed their own inclinations and did not keep their rule properly”. Basically a rough and unruly lot whose reputation was so damaged, they tried to use the good name of the Teutonic knights to get back in the saddle.

In 1236 the Sword brothers suffered a devastating defeat where their master and almost half of the brothers died. The different local peoples immediately revolted, and the colony was reduced to Riga and some of the better defended forts and towns. The Sword brothers were taken over by the Teutonic knights, the lands they had taken from the Danes in Estonia were returned and the bishop, now archbishop of Riga had to grant half of his lands to the Teutonic Knights. That done the grandmaster Hermann von Salza sent an army and by 1250 the situation had stabilised. The lands south of Riga and along the Daugava were recovered. But again peace did not hold for long. In 1259 the Samogitians rebelled and again the knights and the bishops were pushed back into their strongholds. This time it took 4o years of fighting before the land was finally subjugated.

We will talk a lot more about the Sword brothers and the wars in Livonia when we do the series on the Teutonic knights. What we are interested here are the Hanseatic merchants and their role in all this.

Their main interest lay in access to the markets along the Daugava and the land route to Novgorod. On that front they had their first success in 1212 when the ruler of Polozk is forced to allow German merchants to trade freely along the river as far as Vitebsk and Smolensk. In 1229 the prince of Smolensk grants wide ranging privileges to the German merchants upon reciprocity with the Russian merchants. There is relief from tolls and taxes, the right to adjudicate their own affairs and the right to appeal to the court of the prince over the local courts and various rules about weights and measures, priority treatment at portage and markets and the obligation to help merchants whose boats have stranded.

What is interesting about this document, apart from the fact that 13th century German merchants are opening a trading post in a city halfway between Moscow and Minsk and closer to Odessa than to Berlin, is the list of signatories. There are the prince of Smolensk, the bishop of Riga, the master of the sword brothers but also: Regenbode, Dethard and Adam, citizens of Gotland, Friedrich Dummom from Lübeck, Henry the Goth and Ilier, both from Soest, Konrad Bloedauge and Johann Kinot from Muenster, Bernek and Volkmar from Groningen, Arembrechta nd Albrecht from Dortmund, Heinrich Zeisig from Bremen and four citizens of Riga. That list illustrates how the Hanseatic League and the Gotlandfahrer had remained an organisation open to traders from across the Empire. They worked together and it seems also fought together to open and defend their markets.

The Kontor in Smolensk was however short-lived, which is unsurprising given the political instability in this territory. But once the situation stabilised under the Teutonic knights, trade thrived. Riga became one of the key members of the Hanse. Though the Teutonic knights did not allow them to adopt Lübeck law and thereby be even more closely associated with the emerging Hanseatic League, they were given Hamburg Law, which by agreement between Hamburg and Lübeck was identical.

Riga was not the only Hanseatic city in the area. The other important port was called Reval at the time and is today known as Tallin. Its story is slightly different. The crusades into Estland were led by the Danes and it was the Danes who expanded an existing Estonian settlement and trading station. The Danes left in 1227 due to a serious defeat back home and the Livonian brothers moved in. With them came 200 German merchants who quickly settled in the town. The sword-brothers did not stay beyond their defeat in 1236 and the Danes returned. But the Hanseatic merchants stayed in Tallin. They convinced the Danish king Eric Ploughpenny to grant them the city laws of Lübeck and the Tallin quickly gained a high degree of independence from the Danish crown. Tallin is even closer to Novgorod than Riga and became a key harbour for the trade with fur, beeswax, cloth and salt.

Two other places became important. One was Narva, even further along the coast and closer to Novgorord. Despite its attractive geographic position, Narva never really thrived. The citizens of Tallin did not very much like the competition and cut them off from trade flows and even from participation in the Hanseatic League.

The other important Hanseatic city in Estonia and still Estonia’s second largest city is Dorpat/Tartu. Tartu is deep inland on the road to Novgorord and had been a trading post since at least the 11th century. The sword Brothers conquered the place in 1224 and made it the seat of the bishop of Estonia. Dorpat/Tartu became a member of the Hanseatic League and a rich trading city.

As the Danish kingdom went through its darkest time in the 14th century, the Teutonic Knights bought Estonia off the Danes and held it until the 16th century.

Riga, Reval/Tallin and Dorpat/Tartu played a major role in the Hanseatic League history. The Kontor of Novgorod that was so crucial to Lübeck and Visby in the 12th and 13th century came more and more under control of these Baltic cities. Within the Hanseatic League the Livonian cities together with Visby formed one of its regional divisions, its Drittel or thirds. And that made sense. The trade with Novgorod and along the Daugava was almost entirely in their control and hence the cities involved in it formed their own special interest within the League.

Another group of cities that may have been part of this Drittel were the Swedish cities, Stockholm, Kalmar and Nykoping. Those and the role of German merchants in Sweden during the Middle Ages will be subject to the next episode, as will be the other important trade, the trade in fish. That is when we will finally get to talk about the city of Bergen and the pier that was called Tyske Bryggen for centuries and is now called just called Bryggen. I hope you will join us again.

And now, before I go and before I thank all of you who are supporting the show, in particular the Patrons who have kindly signed up on patreon.com/historyofthegermans, let me tell you about my latest plan.

I am like you a great fan of narrative history podcasts and I do listen to quite a few. What I noticed is that I find them often quite difficult to navigate. It is ok if you are a hardcore fan, because then you have listened to all previous episodes and just wait for the next one to drop. But sometimes I let things slack and suddenly there are 20 new episodes I have missed. Or I discover a new podcast that is now on episode 177 and I feel a bit intimidated.

So, my idea is to publish this and all future episodes of this series twice. Once here in the main feed and then – a day later- in a separate podcast, called The Hanseatic League – A podcast by the History of the Germans. So for you guys, who are committed listeners to the History of the Germans, nothing changes. You still get your episodes as normal. You will not miss anything on the other feed. And please, if you suddenly come across a separate podcast about the Hanseatic League, do not get angry when it turns out to be almost 100% the same episode you just listened to.

On the other hand, if you know someone who might be interested in the History of the Germans, and most specifically in the Hanseatic League, but may be put off by believing he needs to listen to 108 other episodes first, just send him there.

If this turns out to be successful, I may repurpose some of the back catalogue into separate Podcasts as well. Let’s just see.

I will explain all this in the show notes and on social media, specifically on Twitter @germanshistory and my Facebook page History of the Germans Podcast. Ah, and still a big thank you to all my Patrons. Your support is so important to keeping the show on the road.    

And last but not least the bibliography. For this episode I relied heavily on:

Philippe Dollinger: Die Hanse

Die Hanse, Lebenswirklichkeit und  Mythos, curated by Jürgen Bracker, Volker Henn and Rainer Postel

Rolf Hammel-Kieslow: Die Hanse

Eric Christiansen: The Nordic Crusades

And since we are at it, I came across a really interesting article about the trade in beeswax in the Middle Ages by Dr. Alexandra Sapoznik titled “ Bees in the medieval world: economic, environmental and cultural perspectives – King’s College London (kcl.ac.uk). A bit niche and geeky but quite fascinating.