Maximilian’s last years saw him defeated and resigned. He was too intelligent a man not to have recognized his own failure. His attempts at compromise and reconciliation remained unworkable. Too few other leaders, whether religious or secular, were interested in such an approach, and Maximilian became largely irrelevant by 1574. He did manage to get Rudolf elected Roman king in 1575, but by then his own health was clearly failing, which also motivated his withdrawal from governance. He had a list of maladies in the years preceding his death: cardiac seizures, urinary stones, and gout, among others. On his deathbed he refused the Catholic last rites. He died as he lived, thus, unorthodoxly. While Maximilian can be praised for finding his own, unique and genuine way to reconcile Catholicism and Protestantism, his personal beliefs did not provide a feasible political basis for wider reconciliation. His tragedy was to be in between competing sects when everybody else, in his family and his realms, expected him to be on one side or the other.
Rudolf II (1552–1612)
From Maximilian’s impossible balancing act between warring sides, in Rudolf II’s time the Austrian branch itself broke down into warring sides. Rudolf helped cause these problems, and he was certainly not the man to resolve them. There is no question of his intelligence: it was often remarked upon by contemporaries. Likewise, he was an extremely cultured individual, one of the most curious and broadly educated of anyone in the dynasty. He was also known for being relatively personable but shy, and for having an intense pride in Habsburg superiority. Until about 1600 he also had a fairly strong will and was generally attentive to government. If anything, he may have been too involved, since he was not good at heeding counselors’ advice. He made some decisions (like renewing the war with the Turks in 1593) that might have been avoided with a better-informed and less willful monarch. After that time, the darker sides of Rudolf’s personality came to dominate. Already during the war he displayed signs of what has been suggested as schizophrenia. He began ordering that relatively unimportant military victories be celebrated and glorified out of all proportion. Defeats, even minor ones, caused him to fall into a black depression and shut himself off from court. He became deeply distrustful of almost everyone around him, fearing that he was going to be poisoned or bewitched. He drank too much, contemplated suicide, and gave in to superstition. Though he was never perhaps truly “mad” (as critics then and since have claimed), he was undoubtedly a troubled individual. His psychological disturbances did not make him completely incapable of rule after 1600, but on the rarer occasions when he did intervene, it was too often with catastrophic results.
Rudolf’s religious attitudes were not unlike his father’s. He was undogmatic, moderate, perhaps more committed to Catholicism than Maximilian, though he too refused the last rites. All his adult life he actively disliked the papacy and the conservative Catholic camp, but neither was he a fan of the fissiparous Protestant sects who all claimed their own political rights. His main practical concern was to avoid religious conflict in his domains. Like Maximilian, he feared how such conflict would undermine order and his own power, and make his realms more vulnerable to Turkish attack. Rudolf’s main hope in relation to religious pluralism was to end it via compromise. He dreamed of reuniting the splits and making Christianity whole again. Again like his father, though, he had no real plan for accomplishing this goal, nor was it especially realistic. Perhaps the only place where the different confessions amicably got along was in Rudolf’s court, since he had Catholics, Utraquists, Lutherans, and Calvinists in his service. Rudolf (Figure 5.1) was ultimately disengaged from the politics of confessional disputes—which meant that he exerted virtually no control over them and events instead swept past him.
By 1600 confessional conflict was sharpening in both the Empire and the Danubian domains. In Germany, a new generation of princes had come to power, one even less inclined to compromise than their forebears who had reached agreement in Augsburg in 1555. All sides were becoming more combative. One of the main disputes was over Protestant princes’ continuing seizures of formerly Catholic lands, including the properties of monasteries and bishoprics. The Elector Palatine, a particularly aggressive Calvinist, was often the leader of obstructionist tactics in the Reichstag, refusing to contribute money for the fight against the Turks. A hardening of differences and grudges led to 9 Protestant princes and 17 imperial cities forming the Evangelical Union in the first decade of the 1600s. In response, 20 princes led by Bavaria created the Catholic League. Rudolf played very little role in any of these events. In Austria, the Counter-Reformation was gaining momentum, though its real successes would not come until later. After 1600 in particular Catholicism became more militant, as a number of commanding personalities took the lead to advance its cause. Nobles and churchmen fought for the return of church lands, refused to acknowledge rights of tolerance for Protestants, and more vigorously persecuted “heretics.” New schools were founded, most of the time by the Jesuits. Monasteries were reopened, and other orders such as the Capuchins and the Augustinians also expanded their work. Felipe II encouraged these developments, but the stronger impetus came from Rudolf’s brother Ernst and his cousins Karl of Inner Austria and Ferdinand of Tyrol.
FIGURE 5.1 Rudolf II, bust by Adriaen de Vries (1607). In the collection of the Weltliche Schatzkammer, Vienna. Image courtesy of the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek.
The Austrian Habsburgs’ ongoing struggle with the Ottomans quieted down for several decades after the first years of Maximilian’s reign. Once Süleyman I died in 1566, Turkish expansionist fervor waned in the west, and Maximilian signed the Peace of Adrianople in 1568. It was not until 1593 that border skirmishes again boiled over into full-blown war. It proved a particularly pointless affair, producing no major territorial gains for either side. Rudolf had hoped for a grand crusade that would reaffirm his power in the Empire and his own domains, and tried unsuccessfully to arrange a three-way alliance with Muscovy and Persia for a conjoined attack on the Ottomans. His military commanders won no decisive victories, however, and the war’s expenses and disruption seriously undermined Rudolf’s regime. It helped spark several peasant uprisings. Rural people had many grievances, including the conscription for the army and new taxes to pay for the war against the Turks, but also the worsening conditions of rural life such as intensified forced labor requirements. In 1595 and 1597 gangs of peasants stormed across the Austrian countryside. Rudolf listened to their grievances to an extent, such as promising to help lessen onerous labor requirements (which were really controlled by local nobles), but he also forcibly suppressed the resistance.
The Turkish war also coincided with a rebellion in Transylvania. The province’s ruler, Zsigmond Báthory, sporadically acknowledged Rudolf’s sovereignty, and accepted help from a Habsburg army to combat the Ottomans. However, that army was also used to promote Catholicism and persecute the religiously pluralistic Transylvania’s other communities including Lutherans and Calvinists. This provoked a revolt led from 1604 to 1606 by István Bocskai, a Hungarian lord who had formerly been allied with the Habsburgs. He made league with the Turks, and part of the Hungarian estates rose up against the Habsburgs. These rebels formed an army partly out of armed peasants known as hajduks. A roving force of armed, angry rural people posed the danger of a broader social revolution, and so threatened not just Habsburg authority but much of the landowning elite. A split thus opened up among the Hungarian nobles. Much of the Transylvanian nobility supported an all-out war to seize as much of Habsburg Hungary as possible, to make it an autonomous Turkish protectorate. The nobility further west, even if somewhat disgruntled by Habsburg rule, feared more the prospect of Turkish overlordship. An end to both the Turkish war and the Transylvanian rebellion was negotiated in 1606. Matthias, acting sometimes without Rudolf’s approval, agreed that Bocskai would be the prince of Transylvania but would renounce his claim to be king of Hungary. Religious freedom for the nobility and free towns was also guaranteed. The peace of Zsitvatorok ended the futile
hostilities with the Turks.
Matthias handled these treaties because of Rudolf’s incapacity. As his psychological problems mounted, Rudolf began ignoring events in the Empire and in his own lands. He neglected papers and refused to see his main advisors, but still nurtured an unrealistically grandiose sense of his own authority. There was in short a leadership vacuum, into which stepped Matthias—though the real political mover was his Svengali, Melchior Khlesl. Khlesl was a power-hungry arriviste who came from a family of Protestant Viennese bakers. Educated by the Jesuits, though, he became an ardent and aggressive Catholic Counter-Reformer. He first wormed his way into Rudolf’s circle, rising to become an imperial councilor and bishop of Vienna. But then when he decided that Rudolf’s rule was spinning out of control, he switched horses to Rudolf’s equally power-hungry, but clueless, younger brother. Matthias had been groomed for a career in the Church, but rejected it and sought to concoct for himself a more prominent role in the family’s politics than his age, education, or talent would ever have entitled him to. Matthias’s political meddling began in 1577 when without consulting either Rudolf or Felipe II, he accepted a provocative invitation from some Dutch nobles to mediate in the conflict there. This was a major breach of dynastic etiquette, and it enraged Felipe, who considered it a betrayal. Matthias was neither intelligent nor well-connected enough to make any real contribution, and was pushed aside by 1579.
Back in Austria after 1581, he eventually became the focus of the dynasty’s attempts to salvage their realms from Rudolf’s delinquency. Matthias first explored all sorts of schemes to advance himself such as becoming a bishop or even the king of Poland, but succeeded in nothing. In 1595, after their brother Ernst’s death, Rudolf made Matthias his regent in Upper and Lower Austria. It was at this time that Matthias came under the influence of Khlesl, who showed that Matthias was as easily manipulated as he was headstrong. Khlesl helped convince him that since Rudolf had no legitimate heir, Matthias needed to assume authority. In 1606, Matthias, his brother Maximilian, and their cousin Ferdinand of Styria carried out a plan (actually devised by Khlesl) to declare Matthias the head of the family.
Rudolf considered this a treasonous break, and the family split soon escalated to armed conflict. In 1608 Matthias contrived for the Austrian, Hungarian, and Moravian estates to support him against Rudolf, but in return he had to promise them considerable religious liberties. Matthias was actually crowned king of Hungary that year, and Rudolf was forced to cede authority in Austria and Moravia as well. He had nowhere else to turn but to the Bohemian, Lusatian, and Silesian estates for backing, which they bestowed only after he agreed to the Letter of Majesty of 1609. This was a major capitulation by the crown to the estates, allowing thorough religious freedoms including the right for non-Catholics to build churches and schools. In 1610 Rudolf tried to use an army that had been assembled to deal with a succession conflict in Germany to overpower Matthias. These troops entered Bohemia but because Rudolf could not afford to pay them, they began plundering. The successive calamities of Rudolf’s leadership finally motivated the Bohemian estates to declare him deposed in 1611. Matthias marched in with his own army and imprisoned Rudolf in Prague’s castle; Matthias was then crowned the Bohemian king. Rudolf retained only the imperial title until he died in 1612, after which Matthias was elected to the imperial office. It was a sad end to Rudolf’s 36 years as emperor, and a shameful debacle for the dynasty—which would not improve under Matthias.
Matthias (1557–1619)
Matthias and his reign are interesting really only for Habsburg completists; he is more typically, and deservedly, forgotten. The ultimate irony is that once he wore the crown he was just as ineffectual as Rudolf had been. The archbishop of Trier reportedly said after Matthias was elected emperor in 1612, “He’ll make no great leaps.”4 Even Khlesl complained about how lethargic and disengaged from ruling Matthias was, and explicitly advised him to pay more attention. But since Matthias was more interested in the trappings of rule than in ruling itself, Khlesl took the reins in his own hands. Khlesl assumed power as the director of the Privy Council, and was even referred to mockingly as the “vice-emperor.” Unrest in Transylvania continued, and Matthias had to acknowledge the sovereignty of two indigenous princes, Báthory and then Bethlen. Matthias moved the capital back to Vienna from Prague, and ratcheted up the pressure of the Counter-Reformation. He disallowed the construction of Protestant churches, censored Protestant publications, and forbid Protestants the right of assembly. This in turn sharpened religious conflict in the Empire. The 1613 Reichstag in Regensburg broke down amid escalating religious tensions. Khlesl had begun to seem like a comparative moderate, but under threat of a boycott by the Catholic princes, he failed to engineer a compromise between them and Protestants on several matters. Rival contenders to the inheritance of the duchy of Jülich-Kleves nearly provoked a wider European war in 1614; this was a spark in dry tinder that testified to the volatile situation in central Europe.
Capping Matthias’s ineptitude was his inability to produce an heir, again a repeat of Rudolf’s problems. This uncertainty led to the predictable jockeying for the Habsburg succession, and the candidates included Friedrich V, the Elector Palatine and a Calvinist, as well as Felipe III of Spain, who claimed a right to succeed because he was the grandson of Maximilian II on his mother’s side. The fright of a Protestant or a Spaniard becoming emperor helped rally support behind Matthias’s cousin Ferdinand of Styria. Felipe was fobbed off via the treaty of Oñate of 1617, in which he received some territories in Alsace and Italy in return for renouncing his claims. That left the way open for the zealous Catholic Ferdinand. Matthias did not die until 1619, by which time he had already been irrelevant for nearly two years. The events of the Prague defenestration, Khlesl’s fall from power and imprisonment, and Ferdinand’s takeover led the terrifying descent into what would become the Thirty Years’ War. As problematic as Rudolf’s reign was, Matthias’s heedless greed and boundless folly had accomplished nothing constructive, setting the stage for the conflict that would consume the next generation of Habsburgs.
Dynastic strategies
Maximilian, Rudolf, and Matthias are most important in the dynasty’s history for the way they managed family solidarity, and for their court patronage. Solidarity within the Austrian branch was unquestionably complicated by its divided inheritance. Relations between Maximilian and his brothers Ferdinand and Karl were actually quite smooth. As their father Ferdinand I had admonished them, they spoke with one voice on foreign policy matters, though Maximilian led. The division even helped Maximilian in some ways, since his own administrative burden was lessened by the younger Ferdinand and Karl governing their own Austrian domains. There were inevitably some disagreements, since the younger Ferdinand, whose territory was the rich Tyrol, sometimes disputed how much he was supposed to contribute to joint military expenditures. Surprisingly, this Ferdinand removed himself from succession possibilities when he married a commoner. In the next generation, as his brothers and cousin ganged up on Rudolf, family unity obviously broke down in some ways. However, solidarity was actually the underlying motivation for this dynastic squabble. Matthias, his brother Maximilian, and Ferdinand of Styria feared that Rudolf’s misrule was damaging the dynasty’s patrimony and legitimacy. In deposing Rudolf, these three were thinking in terms of the corporate interest, though Matthias’s egotistical ambitions were not inconsequential.
The solidarity with the Spanish branch was also often troubled during this time. Maximilian II’s wife María, Felipe II’s sister, was essential for keeping the relationship amicable. She consistently acted as a vital intermediary and confidante for both kings, and took an active role in matters of state. She held joint audiences with Maximilian, and ambassadors would often speak to her first to find out how best to approach him. She remained a strong Catholic and was therefore troubled by Maximilian’s wavering. Her retinue in Austria was almost entirely Spanish, and though Maximilian knew that they were communi
cating important information back to Felipe and his court, he had to put up with it. Once Maximilian died, María’s sons none too subtly encouraged her to return to Spain to rid themselves of her “meddling” in their politics. In 1581 she returned to Spain and embraced her brother after a separation of 30 years. María’s Spanish culture did exert a major influence on several of her sons. For example, Rudolf long favored the Castilian language and Spanish dress. He and his brother Ernst spent their adolescent years in Spain, partly because Felipe was grooming them as potential heirs as he still lacked a surviving son.
Rudolf and Matthias had their own problems with inheritance because neither produced a legitimate son. The machinations surrounding his succession poisoned Rudolf’s relations with his family members. The fact that Rudolf never married was entirely due to his psychological afflictions. For some 18 years he was engaged to Felipe’s daughter Isabel Clara Eugenia, but he could never bring himself to go through with the marriage. His failure to do so is strange for all sorts of reasons. He was definitely capable of sexual relations, since he had several children by his favorite mistress. He also coveted some Spanish territories like Milan, and even hoped to influence Spanish policies in the Netherlands along a more moderate line. His love-hate relationship with Spanish politics—and his frustration that Felipe was unlikely to give him the things he coveted—are part of the explanation why he never married Isabel. In a bizarre twist, however, when Felipe finally married her to Rudolf’s brother Albrecht, Rudolf was enraged. Once they were married and became governors of the Netherlands, Albrecht and Isabel also failed to produce a surviving heir. Thus the Austrian primogeniture line stemming from Ferdinand I went extinct. This helps explain why Ferdinand of Styria inserted himself into the conflict between Rudolf and Matthias: he stood to gain the whole Austrian branch’s inheritance, which he did once Matthias died.
The Habsburgs- The History of a Dynasty Page 17