GERMANY AND THE HAPSBURG EMPERORS, 1437-1493
German disunion in the fifteenth century—The House of Hapsburg—The
succession in Hungary and Bohemia—The Imperial election in
1438—Death of Albert II.—Election of Frederick III.—Death of
Frederick I. of Brandenburg—Futile opposition in Germany to the
Emperor and the Papacy—Frederick III. at war with the
Swiss—Sigismund of Tyrol—Succession to Albert II. in Austria,
Hungary, and Bohemia—Ladislas Postumus—Relief of Belgrade and death
of John Hunyadi—Death of Ladislas Postumus—Austria falls to the
Styrian Hapsburgs—Election of Mathias Corvinus in Hungary and of
George Podiebrad in Bohemia—War between Hungary and
Bohemia—Relations of Frederick III. with Burgundy—Hungarian
conquests in Austria—Last years and death of Frederick III.
In the history of three of the great countries of Europe, France,
England, and Spain, the fifteenth century marks a [Sidenote: Disunion
and weakness of Germany.] decisive epoch in the growth both of national
unity and of monarchical government. In France the civil strife of
Armagnacs and Burgundians and the long struggle against the English
prepared the way for the rule of Charles VII. and Louis XI. In England
the Wars of the Roses ended with the accession of a powerful Tudor
dynasty. In Spain national sentiment was kindled by the anti-Moorish
crusades, and the union of the chief kingdoms by the marriage of
Ferdinand and Isabella led to the great expansion of Spain under the
despotic rule of Charles I. and Philip II. The history of Germany
resembles that of its neighbours up to a certain point. Anarchy and
disorder were as conspicuous there as they were in France under Charles
VI., or under Henry VI. in England. The schism which filled the first
decade of the century both illustrated and increased the weakness and
the degradation of the once powerful German monarchy. But in Germany no
remedy was found for political and social disunion. No ruler arose with
the strength and the resolution that were needed to transform a vague
suzerainty into a territorial monarchy, as Charles IV. had schemed to
do. On the contrary, there was a marked decline of imperial authority,
which reached its nadir in the reign of Frederick III. The impulsive
Sigismund had striven for a moment to revive the Ghibelline tradition,
and he seemed to have made a considerable stride when, in 1415, he
humbled the pride of Frederick of Tyrol, and rewarded the loyalty of
Frederick of Hohenzollern with the electoral Mark of Brandenburg. But
Sigismund’s imperial ambitions were bound up with the cause of the
reforming party at Constance, and he was discouraged and disconcerted by
its failure. From that time he abandoned the interests of Germany to
devote himself to the affairs of Bohemia and Hungary. The party which
had rallied round him at Constance, deserted by their natural leader,
endeavoured to give to Germany a new central government which should
take the place of the decadent monarchy. A series of ignominious defeats
by the Hussites enabled them to carry through the diet some tentative
reforms in 1427. There was to be a system of imperial taxation, an
imperial army, and a standing representative council to wield the
executive power which the emperors had allowed to fall from their hands.
But the projected reforms ended in failure. The sense of nationality was
not strong enough to overcome the selfish independence of states and
classes. The two last crusades against the Bohemians were even more
humiliating to Germany than their predecessors.
That the disunion of Germany was a source of many evils and of serious
dangers was apparent even to the proverbial blindness of contemporaries.
The dependence of Italy had become the merest name. Even Milan, which
under the Visconti was most closely connected with Germany, was about to
pass to the Sforzas, who did not think it worth while even to apply for
imperial investiture. North of the Alps, Lyons and Dauphiné had long
been absorbed by France. Provence and Lorraine were in the hands of a
French dynasty, and before the end of the century the former had been
acquired by the French crown. Savoy was more independent of France, but
hardly more closely tied to Germany. The Old League of High Germany, as
the Swiss confederation was then called, had paraded devotion to the
empire as a means of resisting the claims of the Hapsburgs, but the
cantons really desired freedom from all external control, and by the end
of the century they had practically acquired it. Franche-Comté was ruled
by a Valois duke of Burgundy, Philip the Good, who was absorbing one
after the other a number of imperial fiefs in the Low Countries. The
Scandinavian kingdoms, strengthened for a time by the union of Kalmar,
were beginning to recover their previous losses, and the Hanseatic
League, the champion of German interests in the Baltic and the North
Sea, was no longer at the height of its power. In the north-east, the
Teutonic knights had been fatally weakened by the union of Poland and
Lithuania, and since the battle of Tannenberg in 1410 were waging what
seemed to be a hopeless struggle against the powerful Jagellon kings.
The danger of a general Slav revolt against German encroachments had
been brought even more nearly home to the princes of Germany by the long
Bohemian war. It is true that the extreme Hussites had been defeated in
1434, but it was by their own countrymen; and the sentiment of national
independence, which was necessarily anti-German, was almost as strong as
ever. And in the south-east a new and far more terrible danger was
approaching. The Turks had already established themselves in the Balkan
peninsula, and threatened to sweep up the Danube valley. Hungary was the
only substantial guard to the German frontier; and if Hungarian
resistance failed, it was hardly likely that the German troops, impotent
to crush the ill-armed followers of Ziska, would be able to resist the
all-conquering Janissaries.
Losses on the extremities were the inevitable result of weakness at the
centre. But although this weakness continued, Germany escaped from some
of the extreme disasters which seemed almost inevitable. It is possible
that a too vigorous attempt to bring about a compulsory union might have
broken the state up into its component parts, and Germany, like Italy,
might have become a mere geographical expression. That this complete
disruption was avoided, and that Germany retained at any rate some
symbols of unity, may be attributed, partly to the very looseness of the
federal tie, which was so little felt that it was hardly worth while to
make an effort for its rupture, and partly to the extraordinary series
of events which enabled a single family, the House of Hapsburg, to
obtain a sort of hereditary primacy within Germany. In view of the
danger threatened by Slavs and Turks, it was of supreme importance that
Germany should retain its hold upon the border states of Bohemia and
Hungary, which had been gained by Sigismund. But with Sigismund’s death
in 1437 the male line of the House of Luxemburg became extinct, and the
family was only represented by two women—Sigismund’s own daughter,
Elizabeth, who was married to Albert V. of Austria, and his niece,
another Elizabeth, the widow of Antony of Brabant.
Although Albert of Austria might claim through his wife the succession
to the Luxemburg inheritance, the most [Sidenote: The House of
Hapsburg.] sanguine of contemporary observers could hardly have foretold
that the Hapsburgs would bring even partial salvation to Germany. Since
the first great expansion of the family under Rudolf I. and his
immediate successors, its power and prestige had sensibly diminished.
This had been caused, partly by defeats at the hands of the Swiss, and
partly by the subdivision of Hapsburg territories effected in 1370
between the two brothers, Albert III. and Leopold III. (see p. 137).
Albert had taken the archduchy of Austria, and Leopold the other
territories of the House—the Swabian lands, Styria, Carinthia, Carniola,
and Tyrol. The Albertine line in Austria had been continued by the
successive rulers Albert IV. (d. 1404) and Albert V. The history of the
Leopoldine line had been less simple. Leopold himself had fallen in 1386
in the famous battle of Sempach, and had left his dominions to the joint
rule of four sons—William, Leopold, Ernest, and Frederick. But the first
precedent of subdivision was again followed, and in the end the two
surviving sons, Ernest and Frederick, shared the inheritance between
them. Ernest, the founder of the Styrian, and ultimately the dominant,
branch of the House, was called ‘the Iron’ on account of his physical
strength, and his marriage with Cymburga, a niece of the Polish king, is
said to have brought the famous Hapsburg lip into the family. On his
death in 1424 his two sons, Frederick and Albert, succeeded as joint
rulers to Styria, Carinthia, and Carniola. Meanwhile Frederick, who had
received Tyrol and the Swabian lands, had played a prominent part in the
early stages of the Council of Constance, and his territories had been
confiscated by Sigismund in 1415. But the imperial authority was not
strong enough to make the penalty permanent, and in 1417 Frederick
recovered his dominions with the approval and aid of his subjects. He
lived till 1439, when he left a young son, Sigismund, to succeed him.
The death of the Emperor Sigismund gave rise to three problems of
considerable magnitude. It extinguished a dynasty which had held the
imperial crown for [Sidenote: Succession in Hungary and Bohemia.] nearly
a whole century, and it opened the succession in two kingdoms which were
of supreme importance to Germany in her relations with the Slavs on one
hand and with the Turks on the other. The House of Luxemburg had built
up a unique territorial power on the eastern frontier of the empire, and
it was very doubtful if it could be retained by any other family. In
Hungary little opposition was made to the accession of Albert V. of
Austria, who had already won a reputation in the Turkish wars for valour
and sagacity. But before his coronation he had to promise to refuse the
imperial crown if it should be offered to him, a stipulation which shows
how little the Hungarians valued the connection with Germany. In
Bohemia, Albert had identified himself with the orthodox party, and
could reckon on its support. But the Hussites, still a majority of the
population, were resolutely opposed to him, not only on religious
grounds, but also because his accession would continue the hated German
domination, and his claim ran counter to their contention that the
Bohemian crown was elective. The result was a renewal of civil war.
Albert was accepted and crowned by his partisans, while the Hussites
sought to gain the general support of the Slavs by offering the crown to
Casimir, the brother of Ladislas of Poland.
Meanwhile the electors in Germany had to fill the imperial throne. The
reforming party, which had been stirred to activity by the disasters of
the Hussite war, was still in existence and still headed by Frederick of
[Sidenote: Election of Albert II., 1338.] Hohenzollern. If they could
control the election, it might be possible to return to the policy which
Sigismund had pursued in his early years. Their desire was to choose a
prince whose interests lay within Germany and not outside, and who would
sacrifice any personal or family considerations for the general welfare.
The candidate whom they put forward was Frederick of Hohenzollern
himself, who had already given an example within Brandenburg of that
reforming activity which was needed to put an end to the selfish and
distracting divisions of Germany. But the majority of the German princes
were little influenced by patriotic considerations. They valued
independence far higher than unity. It was no grievance to them that
Sigismund had neglected Germany since 1417, and had busied himself with
affairs in Bohemia and Hungary. They turned their eyes to Albert V. of
Austria, who seemed to occupy precisely the same position as Sigismund
had held in his later years. His immediate objects lay so far outside
the empire that he was not likely to interfere with princely
independence, while the pursuit of his own interests in the east might
indirectly render no small service to Germany. Another and perhaps
decisive argument in Albert’s favour was that he had adopted that policy
of neutrality in the struggle between Pope and Council which commended
itself to most of the German princes. When the Electoral College met in
March 1438, it was speedily evident that Albert had a secure majority in
his favour, and Frederick of Brandenburg gracefully withdrew his
candidature in order to allow the election to be unanimous. The election
does not bulk very largely in either contemporary or later narrative,
but it was really of quite decisive importance. Until the fall of the
Holy Roman Empire in 1806, with the exception of one short interval in
the eighteenth century, the Hapsburgs retained practically hereditary
possession of the imperial crown. Under them Germany became a loose and
ineffective federation, held together by tradition and habit and by the
ascendency of a dynasty which showed remarkable astuteness and obstinacy
in the pursuit of its own interests. The monarchy of the Ottos and the
Hohenstaufen had ceased to exist, and the traditions of Ghibellinism
became an anachronism after 1438. The choice in that year lay between a
Hapsburg and a Hohenzollern; and it is of more than superficial interest
to note that when the empire of the Hapsburgs had come to an end, when
the evils of disunion had at last worked their own cure, the first
attempt to revive German unity was the election of a Hohenzollern to the
throne which the Hapsburgs had failed to fill.
Albert II., as he is called in the list of emperors, only accepted the
proffered dignity with considerable reluctance, and was never able to
visit Germany, even for the [Sidenote: Death of Albert II.] purpose of
being crowned. His first occupation was to enforce his claim in Bohemia
against his rival, the Polish prince Casimir. With the aid of a German
force, Albert laid siege to Tabor, which was still the great Hussite
stronghold. The besiegers were repulsed by a sally headed by a young
Bohemian noble, George Podiebrad; and though Albert was more successful
in Silesia, where there was a large German element in the population,
the fate of Bohemia was still doubtful when he was called away by the
news that the Turks had invaded Servia and were threatening Hungary.
Leaving his representatives with instructions to patch up a truce with
Poland, Albert hurried to meet this new danger. But he wholly failed to
relieve Semendria, and his troops were decimated by dysentery contracted
in the marshy valley of the Theiss. Albert himself was attacked by the
disease, and hurried homeward in the hope of seeing his capital and his
wife once more. On the way he learned that his cause in Bohemia was
jeopardised by treachery, that the Council of Basel had revived the
schism by electing Felix V. as anti-pope, and that the Turks were
advancing upon Belgrad, the key of Hungary. At this crisis, when
disaster or ruin seemed imminent from every side, Albert succumbed to
disease just as he had reached the outskirts of Vienna (October 27,
1439). His death seemed to make the general confusion worse confounded.
Not only was the empire again left without a head, but the
recently-established connection of Austria with Hungary and Bohemia was
dissolved before it had had time to gain any strength, and it was
extremely doubtful whether it would ever be restored. The only children
born to Albert and Elizabeth were two daughters, but Elizabeth was
pregnant at the time of her husband’s death, and until the child was
born any question of hereditary right must remain in abeyance. It will
perhaps be clearer to consider the imperial election and the general
history of Germany before turning to the tangled series of events which
ensued in Albert’s personal dominions.
The election of 1438 was too recent for any marked change to have taken
place in the balance of parties, and the principles which had then
prevailed were re-affirmed [Sidenote: Election of Frederick III.] in
1440 with even greater emphasis. In choosing Albert the electors could
argue with some force that they were giving the imperial office to the
strongest candidate. Albert was the legitimate successor of the late
emperor, and he was a powerful prince. Not only was he archduke of
Austria, but he had been crowned king in Hungary and Bohemia, and though
he was opposed in the latter country he had a better claim than his
opponent. Moreover, his personal character and his past achievements
commanded general respect. None of these arguments could be advanced in
favour of Frederick of Styria, who was now brought forward by the
electors who had supported Albert. In his father’s territories of
Styria, Carinthia, and Carniola he was only joint ruler with his brother
Albert. He was barely twenty-four years old, so that little was known of
his character and abilities, but he had given no proof either of energy
or capacity for affairs. But these considerations had no weight with men
who desired only a King Log, and Frederick was chosen by five votes to
two on February 2, 1440. The rival candidate was Lewis of Hesse, who was
put forward and supported by Frederick of Brandenburg. Events had
convinced the latter that in face of the jealous hostility of the house
of Wettin neither he nor any member of his family had a chance of
success.
His vote on this occasion was almost the last public act of the first
Hohenzollern elector of Brandenburg, though he received one more proof
of the esteem in which [Sidenote: Death of Frederick I. of Brandenburg.]
he was held. A council of forty-seven was formed in this year to choose
a new king for Bohemia. Ten votes were split among several candidates,
while thirty-seven were given for Margrave Frederick. But he was too old
and too weary to entertain any new ambitions, and the flattering offer
was declined. On September 21, 1440, he died, leaving his territories to
the joint rule of his four sons. For nearly fifty years, ever since he
saved Sigismund’s life in the battle of Nicopolis, he had played a
foremost part in German politics. He had met with failures as well as
triumphs, but he had always secured respect, both for distinguished
ability and for purity of motive. He was the last champion of the grand
imperial traditions, which had really perished at the time of the Great
Interregnum, though Henry VII. and, at one time, Sigismund had made an
effort for their revival. It was fitting that Frederick should die in
the year in which the ideas which he represented met with their final
reverse. But he was much more than the champion of the mediæval past. He
was the real creator of the modern state of Prussia, which has become
the centre of a revived German nationality, and has thus succeeded to
some extent in carrying out the schemes in the advancement of which its
great founder spent his life.
Frederick III., who held the German crown for fifty-three years, was
almost as inefficient a ruler as the drunken Wenzel, but his inaction
was due rather to set purpose than [Sidenote: Character of Frederick
III.] to incompetence. He is described by a German chronicler as
handsome and well built, of quick intelligence but of placid spirit,
fond above measure of peace and quiet. Even the labours of the chase
were distasteful to him, and his chief delight was in architecture and
the collection of precious stones. By many he was considered a coward.
His acute contemporary, Philippe de Commines, calls him ‘the most
perfectly niggardly man that ever lived.’ In another passage, however,
Commines admits that his long experience of men had given him wisdom.
This was quite true. Frederick had none of the energy and decision of a
statesman who wishes to control the course of events. But he had the
merit of self-control, and a cheery confidence that patience and delay
would bring improvement, no matter how hopeless might seem the condition
of affairs. His reputation for cowardice arose from his habit of evading
difficulties when he felt unable to face them. Thus, in 1451, when he
was threatened by a simultaneous rising in Austria and Styria, he left
the rebels to do their worst, and hurried off to Italy to receive the
imperial crown. In 1473 he had his famous interview at Trier with
Charles the Bold, who desired to receive the royal title. Unwilling
either to grant the request or to exasperate the duke by a direct
refusal, the emperor escaped by night to Cologne. Such expedients were
not very dignified, nor were they calculated to produce any great
triumphs of statesmanship, but they were not ill suited to avoid fatal
disasters. In Germany Frederick was threatened with reforms which should
annul the royal power, and even with deposition, yet he succeeded in the
end in defeating his opponents. In his hereditary dominions he suffered
many humiliations; and at one time the greater part of Austria,
including the capital, Vienna, had fallen into the hands of the
Hungarians. But at the time of his death, Frederick left the house of
Hapsburg infinitely more powerful than it had been at the time of his
accession. The family territories, which had been subdivided since 1370,
were gradually re-united in the hands of the Styrian line. And the
marriage of his son Maximilian with Mary of Burgundy raised the
Hapsburgs to be one of the great dynasties of Europe, and prepared the
way for still greater pre-eminence in the future.
Of Germany as a state there is naturally very little history under a
king who deliberately neglected his duties. For nearly thirty years
Frederick III. remained obstinately [Sidenote: German opposition to
Frederick III.] secluded in his own territories, and never visited any
other part of Germany. Diets were held and matters of the gravest
importance debated, but neither entreaties nor threats could induce the
emperor to attend. In the first great problem of his reign, the quarrel
between the papacy and the Council of Basel, Frederick showed the most
cynical disregard of national interests and prejudices. The pope was
anxious to annul the pragmatic sanction of 1439, which had given some
measure of independence to the German Church. Frederick allowed himself
to be bribed into a secret treaty with the papacy, and the diplomacy of
Æneas Sylvius Piccolomini was employed to divide and gain over the
princes and electors. Eugenius IV. lived just long enough to accept the
preliminary treaty, and the final concordat was concluded with Nicolas
V. (see p. 241). Equally discreditable, though less treacherous and
self-seeking, was Frederick’s conduct when the news came that
Constantinople had fallen before the Turkish attack. The pope and the
emperor, as the joint heads of Christendom, were the natural leaders of
resistance to the encroachments of the infidel. And Frederick III. had
strong personal and territorial interests at stake which he might
consider more important than the obligations of his high dignity.
Nicolas V. hastened to issue exhortations to a new crusade, and Æneas
Sylvius set himself to rouse the martial spirit of Germany. But
Frederick III. shut himself up in his room, and with tears lamented the
instability of human greatness. The German diet met at Ratisbon in 1453,
and at Frankfort in 1454, but the emperor would not appear, and in his
absence no decision could be come to. Bitter indignation was felt and
expressed at such pusillanimous inactivity. The archbishop of Trier,
Jacob von Sirk, who had never pardoned Frederick for his betrayal of the
German Church to the papacy, took the lead of the opposition. With him
was allied the Elector Palatine Frederick the Victorious, who had
supplanted the infant nephew for whom he had been guardian, but had
never been able to obtain the imperial sanction for his usurpation. The
deposition of the emperor was discussed, and Philip of Burgundy, who
professed great ardour for the projected crusade, was suggested as his
successor. Ultimately in 1455 a more practical scheme was put forward
for the creation of a central administrative body, in which the emperor
might appoint a deputy if he would not attend in person. This council,
in which the electors would have preponderated, was to put down
disorder, to raise a revenue by an imperial tax upon clergy and laity
alike, and was to take measures for the defence of the empire against
the Turks. The scheme came to nothing. Frederick III. opposed a passive
resistance, and the archbishop of Trier was more interested to gain
power and prominence for himself than to effect any real reform. In 1456
Mohammed II. laid siege to Belgrade, and the fall of the fortress would
have opened the whole valley of the upper Danube to the Turks. The
danger was warded off, not by the exertions of emperor or princes, but
by the heroism and skill of a Hungarian soldier.
With the opposition to the emperor was combined hostility to the papacy.
Many of the princes looked back with regret to the pragmatic sanction of
1439, and envied the French who still retained the pragmatic [Sidenote:
German hostility to the papacy.] sanction of Bourges. The death of
Nicolas V. in 1455 and the election of Calixtus III. gave an opportunity
for formulating the old complaints against the Roman see. Some of the
electors proposed to summon a new general council in a German city to
take up the work of ecclesiastical reform which the council of Basel had
failed to carry through. At the same time the reform of the imperial
administration was again mooted, and Frederick III. was called upon to
attend a meeting of the diet. But the princes had ceased to be a united
party. Albert Achilles, the brother of the elector of Brandenburg, had
quarrelled with the Elector Palatine, and now came forward as the
supporter of the emperor. The archbishop of Trier was dead and his
successor was gained to the side of Frederick III. The opposition
leaders still threatened to depose the emperor, but they had no longer a
majority behind them. Frederick III. by a masterly inactivity had
thwarted the projects of administrative reform, and thus set the seal
upon German disunion. His triumph brought with it a victory for the
papacy. Ecclesiastical tenths were constantly levied on the pretext of a
Turkish crusade, but the money passed into the pope’s coffers. Half the
benefices in Germany were practically in the gift of the Curia. In 1459
Æneas Sylvius became pope as Pius II. in succession to Calixtus III. In
1460 he dealt a fatal blow to the conciliar opposition with which he had
been so closely associated in earlier years. The bull _Execrabilis_
declared any appeal from a papal decision to a general council to be
impious and heretical. From this time the opposition to the papacy in
Germany was only weak and fitful until a new era began in the next
century.
For his inaction in Germany, Frederick III. had a fairly substantial
excuse in the constant troubles in which he was involved at home. Not
only had he to contend with the factious opposition of his brother
Albert and the Styrian nobles, but in 1439 the death of his uncle
Frederick left him to act as guardian for the young Sigismund of Tyrol,
and later in the same year he was called upon to deal with the very
serious problems to which the death of Albert II. gave rise. As
Sigismund’s guardian, Frederick III. had to administer Tyrol and the
Swabian territories, and the latter brought him into collision with the
Swiss. For a long time jealousy had existed between the [Sidenote:
Frederick III. and the Swiss.] rural cantons and the city members of the
League, especially Zürich. This was brought to a head in 1436 by the
death of the count of Toggenburg. His inheritance was claimed by the
emperor, by the Confederation as a whole, and by Zürich. When the
citizens seized a large part of the disputed territory, the rest of the
confederates, headed by Schwyz, took up arms and compelled them to
disgorge their booty. It was the prominent part taken by the men of
Schwyz on this occasion which helped to give their name to the whole
Confederation. Indignant at the humiliation, Zürich drew aloof from the
League and appealed to Frederick III. as both emperor and representative
of the House of Hapsburg. Frederick could not resist the temptation to
enforce the imperial claims to Toggenburg, and also to recover the
Aargau which the Swiss had taken from his uncle, Frederick of Tyrol, at
the time of his quarrel with the Emperor Sigismund. The war broke out in
1442, and in spite of Frederick’s assistance Zürich was again closely
besieged by the forces of the Confederation. Unable to spare more troops
from his own territories, Frederick resorted to the extraordinary
expedient of employing French mercenaries against his German subjects.
Charles VII., freed for the time from his war with England, was only too
glad to get rid of some of the _écorcheurs_, who had become a curse to
France. Instead of the 5000 men whose services were demanded, he sent
nearly 20,000 so-called ‘Armagnacs’ to invade Swabia under the nominal
command of the dauphin. Devastation and misery marked the track of this
vast force as it advanced to raise the siege of Zürich. A few hundred
Swiss tried to block the way, and on the field of St. Jacob, the German
Thermopylæ, they were completely annihilated. But their heroism had
gained its end. The invaders, who had suffered terrible losses, hastened
to conclude a truce with such resolute foes, and retired to Alsace. In
1445 they were induced to evacuate the country, but it was long before
the horrors of the raid were forgotten in Germany. Frederick III., who
had brought such sufferings upon his subjects, gained nothing by his
unpatriotic action. The Swiss were more than ever determined to resist
the hated Hapsburgs to the last. The war went on till 1450, when Zürich
deserted the Austrian alliance and returned to the League. Frederick had
to give up the guardianship of his cousin [Sidenote: Sigismund of
Tyrol.] Sigismund, who became independent ruler in Tyrol and the Swabian
territories. His subsequent history may be briefly traced. Involved in
constant quarrels with the Swiss, for which he was inadequately provided
with men and money, he pledged his Swabian lands in 1469 to Charles the
Bold. They proved as fatal a possession to the Burgundian duke as they
had been to the Hapsburgs. The wily Louis XI. gained one of his greatest
diplomatic triumphs when he reconciled the Swiss with Sigismund of
Tyrol, and stirred them up to make war against their powerful neighbour.
After successive defeats at Granson and Morat, Charles the Bold fell in
1477 before the walls of Nancy. Sigismund of Tyrol recovered his Swabian
inheritance, but he had no children, and before his death in 1496 he
handed his territories over to Frederick III.’s son Maximilian, in whose
hands all the Hapsburg territories were reunited.
The succession to Albert II. in Austria, Hungary, and Bohemia gave rise
to a series of complications in the east, and involved Frederick III. in
many difficulties. Albert’s widow, Elizabeth, gave birth to a son,
Ladislas Postumus, on February 22, 1440. In [Sidenote: Succession in
Austria, Hungary, and Bohemia.] Austria, where the rule of male
succession was unquestioned, the infant duke was immediately
acknowledged, and was placed under the guardianship of Frederick III.
But in Bohemia and Hungary, where Hapsburg rule was both novel and
unpopular, the problem was by no means so easily settled. In Hungary
there was no absolute rule of inheritance, and female succession was not
excluded either by custom or law. Sigismund’s claim to the crown had
rested on his marriage with the daughter of Lewis the Great, and Albert
had been accepted as the son-in-law of Sigismund. It was possible to
contend that there was no real vacancy, and that Elizabeth was lawful
queen. The primary need of Hungary was defence against the Turks, and in
order to strengthen the kingdom the nobles compelled Elizabeth to offer
her hand, and with it the Hungarian crown, to Ladislas III. of Poland.
On the birth of her son, Elizabeth repudiated the engagement, and had
the infant crowned king. But she was not strong enough to enforce her
will, and on her death in 1442 the Polish king was generally
acknowledged in Hungary. But he perished in the great battle of Varna
against the Turks in 1444, and in the following year the Hungarians
returned to the direct line and recognised Ladislas Postumus as king.
But he was still a minor in the guardianship of Frederick III.; and as
the Hungarians would not allow a foreigner to administer their kingdom,
they gave the office of governor in 1446 to John Hunyadi, who had won a
brilliant reputation in the Turkish war. Meanwhile, Bohemia had pursued
its own course. The Utraquists, the most numerous and powerful party in
the kingdom, refused to recognise claims based upon hereditary right or
dynastic treaties, and insisted upon the right of election. In all
probability they would have chosen the Jagellon king of Poland, if he
had not already been accepted in Hungary. The connection with Hungary
was no more popular than that with Austria. The crown was offered to
Frederick of Brandenburg, but he would not have it, and in the end it
was decided to elect Ladislas Postumus as king, and to intrust the
administration during the minority to a council of Regency. But this
settlement of the succession failed to produce any harmony among the
contending parties. The Roman Catholics, headed by Ulrich von Rosenberg,
desired a complete reconciliation with Germany and the Papacy. The
Utraquists, who found a capable leader in George Podiebrad, were
resolute to maintain the national independence and the religious
settlement arranged in the _Compactata_ with the Council of Basel. A
prolonged civil war ended in the Utraquist victory and the appointment
of George Podiebrad as governor of Bohemia in 1452.
The Hapsburg rule in Hungary and Bohemia was nominally prolonged by the
recognition of Ladislas Postumus in his father’s dominions. But in
actual fact there was [Sidenote: Ladislas Postumus.] little strength in
the connection, as each state arranged its own affairs with intentional
disregard of its fellows. To Frederick III., the guardianship of his
young cousin brought little but incessant worries and annoyances.
Neither Hungary nor Bohemia would allow him any authority whatever, and
even in Austria Styrian administration was extremely unpopular. Both the
Austrian nobles and John Hunyadi were urgent in demanding that Ladislas
Postumus should be released from external tutelage and intrusted to the
care of his own subjects. George Podiebrad, on the other hand, who had
no wish to jeopardise his own authority by the presence of a young king,
who might fall under the influence of his opponents, urged Frederick to
maintain his rights as guardian. In 1451 a simultaneous rising broke out
in Austria and in Styria. Frederick III. chose this moment for a journey
to Rome, to receive the imperial crown at the hands of the Pope. He
endeavoured to checkmate the rebels by taking Ladislas Postumus with
him. The coronation, on March 19, 1452, was the last that was destined
to take place in the ancient capital of the empire. On the emperor’s
return to Germany, he was disgusted to find that his absence had only
exasperated his opponents. The Austrian nobles entered Styria and
attacked him in his own capital of Neustadt. Unable to resist any
longer, Frederick agreed in September 1452 to hand over his ward to the
Count of Cilly, who carried him in triumph to Vienna.
Ladislas Postumus seemed to have a brilliant career before him, when he
emerged from tutelage to be Duke of Austria and King of Hungary and
Bohemia. He was at the time in his thirteenth year, and he had only five
troubled years to live. Hungary and Bohemia remained under the
administration of Hunyadi and Podiebrad, but Ladislas was involved in
quarrels with the two regents by the evil influence of the Count of
Cilly. It was still uncertain whether the young king would succeed
[Sidenote: Relief of Belgrad, 1456.] in asserting his personal
authority, when the fall of Constantinople and the pressing danger from
the Turks compelled a temporary pacification. In 1456, Mohammed II. with
a huge army laid siege to Belgrade, and Turkish vessels sailed up the
Danube to exclude any attempt to relieve the garrison by way of the
river. Hungary and south-eastern Germany would be exposed to invasion if
the great fortress were allowed to fall. For a moment, something like
the old crusading fervour was excited by the preaching of an
enthusiastic Franciscan, Fra Capistrano, and Hunyadi undertook the
command of the motley host that was collected by the eloquence of the
friar. A flotilla of rafts and boats was prepared, and the destruction
of the Turkish ships, under the very eyes of the Sultan and his army,
enabled the relieving force to enter Belgrad. But Mohammed II. refused
to acknowledge his defeat. As a blockade was no longer possible, he
determined to carry the fortress by storm. One by one the outworks were
carried by sheer force of numbers in spite of the heroic resistance of
the defenders. The crescent was about to be elevated to announce a
signal victory, when Hunyadi and Capistrano headed a last sally. The
Turks were driven in headlong flight from the walls, their camp was
stormed and burned, and before evening the Sultan’s army was in full
flight for Sofia, leaving 20,000 men on the field (July 22, 1456). The
relief of Belgrade was a magnificent achievement, but it cost the life
of the two leaders. Hunyadi died of camp fever on August 11, and a few
weeks later Capistrano followed him to the grave.
The death of the Hungarian regent was welcomed by Count Cilly as
removing a rival from his path. But the great soldier had left two sons,
Ladislas and Mathias, who inherited their father’s popularity [Sidenote:
Death of Ladislas Postumus.] and might aspire to hold his position in
the state, and Cilly schemed to effect their ruin. Ignorant that his
intrigues had been discovered, he accompanied the young king on a visit
to the rescued fortress. No sooner were they within Belgrade than they
found themselves prisoners, and Cilly was brought before Ladislas
Hunyadi, reproached for his treachery, and put to death. Ladislas
Postumus was shrewd enough to dissimulate his wrath and to pretend to
pardon the murderers. But he was only waiting his time. Early in 1457 he
returned to Pesth, and as soon as he had surrounded himself with his own
partisans, he had Ladislas Hunyadi taken prisoner, tried and executed
for the murder of Cilly. Mathias, the younger brother, he carried off to
Vienna and thence to Prague. At the latter city he was preparing to
celebrate his marriage with Madeline, daughter of Charles VII. of
France, when he died suddenly on November 23, 1457. So tragic an event
made a profound impression in Europe. Ladislas Postumus was too young to
be regarded as responsible for the demerits of his government, and his
handsome face and winning manners had always made him personally
popular. In Vienna the news was received with paroxysms of grief, and a
suspicion was naturally entertained that the young prince had met with
foul play. That he should have died in Prague was almost conclusive
proof of crime. German dislike of the Slavs and Roman Catholic
detestation of heretics combined to formulate the charge against George
Podiebrad. Before long men told in detail how the poison had been
administered, its effects on the unfortunate victim, and the way in
which the doctors had been suborned by the Bohemian regent. But there is
not the slightest foundation for these stories, and Ladislas
unquestionably died of the plague or Black Death which devastated Europe
at intervals throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.
For the second time within a few years the connexion between Austria,
Hungary, and Bohemia was dissolved, and as Ladislas Postumus left no
descendants, it seemed extremely unlikely that it would be renewed. In
each of the three countries which he ruled he represented a different
dynasty. In Austria he was the last of the Albertine line, and his death
left the primacy to the Styrian branch of the Hapsburgs. In Hungary he
had ruled, through the marriage of his grandfather Sigismund, as the
ultimate descendant of the Angevin dynasty, which had held the crown for
a century and a half. In Bohemia, through his mother Elizabeth, he
represented the house of Luxemburg. Great interest attached to the
succession. Austria, by family agreement, passed to the joint rule of
the three surviving Hapsburg princes, Frederick III. and his brother
Albert, and their cousin Sigismund of Tyrol. Such an arrangement gave
rise to quarrels, which were only terminated by the death of Albert in
1463, when Frederick III. bought off Sigismund with a money payment and
assumed the undivided government of the Austrian duchy. In Hungary it
was decided to disregard all hereditary claims, and to fill the throne
by free [Sidenote: Elections of Mathias Corvinus and George Podiebrad.]
election. On January 24, 1458, the choice of the diet fell upon Mathias
Corvinus, the surviving son of Hunyadi, whose final exploit in relieving
Belgrade had made him a national hero. In Bohemia a similar contempt was
shown for dynastic or treaty claims, and the growing national sentiment
found expression in the election of George Podiebrad (March 2, 1458).
These two elections were events of no ordinary significance. They marked
a popular protest against dynastic arrangements which had paid no regard
to national interests, and had so often brought about the rule of alien
princes. The practical assertion of the rights of the people, of the
principle of nationality, and of the idea that merit rather than birth
confers a claim to rule, was a serious blow to the vested interests of
European kings and princes.
The termination of Hapsburg rule in Hungary and Bohemia was a bitter
disappointment to Frederick III., who had hoped to succeed his cousin in
these kingdoms. But as usual, his exertions were unequal to his
ambition; and after a futile struggle he was compelled to acknowledge
his successful rivals. Common interests drew the new kings together, and
the marriage of Mathias with the [Sidenote: War between Hungary and
Bohemia.] daughter of Podiebrad seemed likely to be the basis of a close
and lasting alliance. Such an alliance would have been of the greatest
value to Europe, and would have constituted a formidable barrier to
Turkish aggression. George Podiebrad had already shown consummate
statesmanship in restoring order in the distracted state of Bohemia, and
Mathias soon proved that he had inherited no inconsiderable share of the
military skill and energy of his father. But unfortunately religious
differences placed an impediment in the way of the concerted action of
two princes who had no superior among the monarchs of their time.
Mathias was an orthodox member of the Church, while his father-in-law
had been born and bred a Utraquist, and had consistently directed his
policy to the maintenance of the Compacts of 1433. But these concessions
to the Hussites had been extorted with difficulty from the Council of
Basel, and successive popes were eager to restore uniformity of belief
and ritual by their revocation. Pius II., encouraged by a confident
expectation of the revival of crusading ardour, ventured to annul the
Compacts in 1462, and his successor, Paul II., in 1466 decreed the
deposition of Podiebrad as a heretic. The result of these papal measures
was to rekindle a religious war in Bohemia, and Breslau became the
centre of a rebellious Catholic league. But Podiebrad was well able to
hold his own against domestic opposition, and the Pope, with the
connivance of the Emperor, set himself to obtain the active assistance
of the Hungarian king. Mathias had no sympathy with heresy, his wife had
died in 1464, and he was tempted by the prospect of acquiring the
Bohemian crown for himself and of gaining the active support of the
German states against the Turks. War broke out in 1468, but Mathias, in
spite of occasional victories, gained little honour or substantial
advantage. In fact the chief result of hostilities was to deprive him of
the prospect of gaining Bohemia. George Podiebrad, driven by Hungarian
invasion to seek the support of Poland, suggested Ladislas, the son of
Casimir of Poland, as his successor. The proposal was not unwelcome to
the diet. The sentiment of nationality was conciliated by the choice of
a Slav prince, and the only lingering sentiment of loyalty to the
ancient dynasty was gratified by the thought that Ladislas’s mother was
the younger daughter of Albert II. and Elizabeth of Luxemburg, and that
therefore some of the blood of Charles IV. ran in his veins. On the
death of Podiebrad in 1471, Ladislas succeeded in attaining the crown in
spite of all the efforts of Mathias to exclude him.
Mathias had good reason to suspect that the emperor, his professed ally,
had supported the candidature of Ladislas, and during the later part of
his reign he was engaged in almost continual hostilities with Austria.
Frederick III. was no soldier, and for a time he was glad to purchase
the restoration of conquered territories by a money payment to his
formidable neighbour. His attention was absorbed during a whole decade
by the important events in the [Sidenote: Frederick III and Burgundy.]
west which preceded and followed the death of Charles the Bold. His
great desire was to secure the hand of Charles’s daughter for his son
Maximilian, but he must many times have despaired of achieving his end.
In 1473 he evaded by flight Charles’s imperative request for a royal
title. In the next year he had to raise an imperial army in order to
relieve Neuss from the Burgundian besiegers, though he was careful to
avoid actual hostilities, and rejected the artful proposals of Louis XI.
for a partition of the territories of a common enemy. Yet he used his
influence to bring about the war between Charles and the Swiss, which
restored to the Hapsburgs their ancient lands in Swabia, and in which
Charles met with his defeat and death. Then at last Frederick found his
opportunity. Pressed by the selfish aggression of Louis XI., Mary of
Burgundy concluded the marriage with Maximilian which had been so long
debated, and brought to her husband the great Burgundian inheritance,
though the treaty of Arras (1482) shore off some provinces which Louis
XI. would not relinquish.
This notable triumph was followed by an equally signal humiliation. The
war with Hungary was renewed, and Mathias Corvinus overran the whole of
Austria and great part of Styria and Carinthia. In 1485 Vienna was
compelled to surrender, and Frederick III., driven from his [Sidenote:
Last years of Frederick III.] capital, was forced to wander as an
imperial mendicant from one German monastery to another. Yet the old man
never lost his cheerfulness or his confidence in the future. He refused
to allow Maximilian to conclude a treaty in which any permanent cession
of Austrian territory should be stipulated, and insisted upon waiting
for a favourable turn in the course of events. In 1486 he induced the
electors to choose Maximilian as King of the Romans, and thus secured
the continuance of the imperial dignity in his family. In 1490 Mathias
Corvinus died leaving no legitimate heir to continue the line of
Hunyadi. Neither Frederick nor Maximilian could secure the succession,
and the Hungarian diet offered the crown to Ladislas of Bohemia. But
though the extension of Jagellon power was in itself displeasing, the
change of rulers enabled the Hapsburgs to recover their losses. In 1491
Ladislas was compelled to sign the treaty of Pressburg, by which all the
conquests of Mathias were restored, and it was arranged that on the
extinction of his male line his territories should pass to the
Hapsburgs. By a series of chances, this condition was actually carried
out within the next forty years. But the exertions of Maximilian to
extort these terms from the Hungarian king had involved him in a great
humiliation in the west. The heiress of Brittany, to whom he had been
actually married by proxy, was forced to give her person and her
province to the French king Charles VIII., and his only daughter,
Margaret, who had been for years betrothed to the latter, was repudiated
and sent back to her father. But the wrong brought with it some
compensation when Charles VIII., in 1493, found it a necessary
preliminary to his Italian expedition to conciliate his injured rival by
the restoration of Artois and Franche-Comté. The year before, Maximilian
had received Tyrol and Alsace from Sigismund, so that Frederick III.
lived to see the Hapsburg dominions not only reunited in a single line,
but vastly extended. For some time he had allowed all power to fall into
the hands of his impetuous son, and little interest was aroused in the
midst of more exciting events by the news that the old emperor had died
on August 19, 1493. For years he had inscribed the five vowels as a
mystic sign on all his buildings, books, and ornaments, and it appeared
that their significance was _Austriæ est imperare orbi universo_, or in
German _Alles Erdreich ist Œsterreich unterthan_. The implied prophecy
was never literally fulfilled, but it came nearer to fulfilment than any
contemporary of Frederick III. could have anticipated. And to this
result the patient and rather ignoble diplomacy of the long-lived
emperor contributed in no small degree.