Episode 38: The First Cracks in the Reign of Max

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Upon marrying Mary of Burgundy in August 1477, the first thing Maximilian of Habsburg had to do was focus on stopping the French invasion of the Burgundian territories. This was, after all, the main reason why their union had been accepted by the various power bases of the Low Countries, most notably the States General. War requires money, of course, and Maximilian didn’t really have any. Due to the constraints of the Great Privilege, he was limited in what options he had to get some, so his first recourse was to do what Flemish counts and Burgundian dukes had done forever and demand cash from the Flemish estates, which he did almost immediately after getting hitched. At first they were happy to cooperate, but when he attempted to roll back the rights gained by the Great Privilege, discontent grew and Maximilian found himself exposed to the ire of, you’ll never guess where, Ghent. The conflict with France dragged on and Maximilian found himself embroiled in factional squabbling and uprisings closer to home in Guelders, Holland and Utrecht, as well as within the court. All of this meant that, when Mary of Burgundy unexpectedly died in March, 1482, conditions inside the pressure cooker which was the Low Countries were once again primed to blow the lid right off.

The matters of Mary and Maxi’s matrimony

Marriage between the elite nobility in these times was first and foremost a political act, intended to bind two, often competing, dynasties together in their common interest for a mutual benefit. This one was no exception. The thing about these political marriages, however, is that being married off to someone you don’t know, who comes from some far away place you’ve probably never been to and who doesn’t even necessarily speak the same language as you, isn’t exactly a great recipe for a happy relationship. We saw this when Isabella of Portugal moved herself away from the ducal court after the blow-up between Charles and Phillip, supporting her son over her philandering husband who slept around so much that he could basically field a cricket team from his illegitimate children, plus substitutes. Isabella ended up living the rest of her life away from him. The marriage between Charles and Margaret of York was similar. It wasn’t unhappy, per se, but when she didn’t produce babies for him he just didn’t bother seeing her much anymore. The same was the case for Maximilian’s parents, Frederick and Eleanor, who had famously clashing personalities and generally limited the time they had to spend with one another.

But Mary and Maximilian’s marriage stands in stark contrast to this. In a private letter to a friend of his, written a few months after the wedding, Maximilian told him “I have a lovely, good, and virtuous wife who fills me with content, for which I give thanks to God. She is tall but slender of body, much smaller than ‘die Rosina’ [a former love interest of his] and snow-white. She has brown hair, a small nose, a little head and face, her eyes brown, tinged with grey, beautiful and clear. The mouth is somewhat high but well-defined and red… my wife is a thorough sportswoman with hawk and hound. She has a greyhound that is very swift. It sleeps generally all night in our room….” So to put it bluntly, he found her good looking and was happy that they had similar interests, like hunting and falconry. Even the fact that they shared a bedroom was pretty uncommon for the time. In her biography of Margaret of York, Christine Weightman says that, along with the dog, Mary also brought her falcons into the bedroom a couple of nights after the wedding, which raises many questions that we are not going to delve further into in this podcast. They were young and attractive, learned each other’s languages and just seem to have genuinely liked each other. After the wedding, Mary handed over the business of running the state to Maximilian and she, again putting it bluntly, got busy with the most crucial task which was expected of her, which was to bring an heir into the world.

The whole reason why Charles the Bold’s death had been such a cataclysm for the Valois-Burgundian dynasty had been that Charles had never had a (male) heir. The States General had been trepidatious about the idea of this foreign prince coming in and taking over, but agreed to the marriage between Maximilian and Mary on the condition that, in the event of her premature death, only their future children would be able to inherit the various lands, titles and possessions which she held. Mary had promised that this would be so and their marriage contract, which had been approved by the Estates, had spelled it out. But, less than a month after the wedding, on the 17th of September, 1477, Mary secretly issued an act which edited the marriage contract and removed those clauses pertaining to the inheritance. According to this version, which was signed and sealed by Mary, Maximilian and Margaret of York, if Mary died without a child then Maximilian would inherit everything. As it would happen, none of this would eventually matter, since Mary and Maximilian would not face this problem, with the couple going on to have three children in their five years together. Two of these children would survive into adulthood and, crucially, the first was a son. But, still, this early move definitely shows that despite having been weakened, the ducal court, but especially Maximilian, was not necessarily going to passively accept the wishes and interests of the Estates, just because a piece of paper had been signed saying that they would.

Honeymoon War

Almost as soon as the “I do’s” were said, Maximilian got to work. The first thing he needed was money, and finding more and more of it was something he was going to continually be required to do over the next five years. As we saw last episode, one of the reasons why Maximilian had taken such a long time to get to the Low Countries was because he was pretty much broke and had apparently run out of cash part way through the journey. If the Estates and ducal court had hoped that marrying the Habsburg prince was going to bring some extra financial clout to their side, they were sorely mistaken. Three days after the nuptials had taken place, on August 22, 1477, Maximilian asked the Estates of Flanders for a sum of 500000 ridders to help cover the costs of the defence. You’ll remember that the Estates had baulked at Charles the Bold’s demands for cash from them the previous year, and refused, laying the pathway towards one of their key demands in the Great Privilege: that the Duke or Duchess would not be allowed to raise taxes or wage war without their explicit consent. But, when they had approved Mary’s marriage to Maximilian, they had also promised that they would do what was necessary to help defend the country from the French. 

As military preparations were made, a legalistic dance ensued between Maximilian and Louis XI. On the 27th of August 1477, Maximilian formally requested that Louis XI return the Burgundian lands he had taken, firmly positioning himself as the heroic defender against the French aggressor. Although this did not happen, on the 18th of September of that year, Louis XI did agree to a ceasefire. Perhaps the older king was weary about this new, energetic prince arriving on the scene, or maybe he was conscious of not wanting to repeat the mistakes of his late-arch-enemy, Charles, by pushing his armies too hard and stretching them too thin in territories with a populace that clearly did not want them to be there. Whatever the reason, Maximilian was given a bit of breathing room and the fighting would not resume until the spring of 1478. 

In December 1477, Maximilian’s financial demands were finally met by the States of Flanders. It seems like, on their part at least, in this early stage of their relationship the States were prepared to stick to their word and cooperate with the new Duke. Maximilian himself was no doubt frustrated that he could not simply take the money he deemed necessary and that it had taken so long. A couple of months later, in February, Maximilian then made a move straight from the Charles the Bold playbook and once again requested more money, this time to hire a group of 5000 Swiss soldiers. Once again, the States of Flanders agreed.

By March, the fighting had resumed and the French had reached as far as Ronse, in Flanders, drawing Flemish troops to do battle there. By summer, the French were ready to take Cambrai, under the leadership of Philip de Crevecoeur who, you may remember, had been a lieutenant of Charles the Bold at Nancy and Knight of the Golden Fleece, but had since defected from Burgundy to Louis XI’s side. This offensive failed and, at this point, Maximilian could launch a counter-offensive. This involved an army, which included thousands of Swiss and German mercenaries, setting off from the Franche-Comte, imperial Burgundy. It was led by a high French noble called Jean de Chalon, who had previously supported Charles the Bold rather than Louis XI. He was the lord of Arlay and carried a fancy but later-to-become-fancier title, the Prince of Orange. His attempt to take back Burgundy was, unfortunately for Maximilian, a failure. According to Commynes, this is largely because the Prince of Orange was in it more for the reward than because of his loyalty to Maximilian, and the French were simply too powerful and too rich for his troops to resist them. Louis XI set about putting a grand scheme into motion, essentially buying off the Swiss and undermining the Burgundians by taking out various pillars of their support networks in the south. Following this, on July 11, Burgundy and France agreed on a one-year armistice and Louis XI promised to remove his troops from the parts of Flanders and Hainault, into which they had breached.

New sovereign for the Order of the Golden Fleece and a new son

In the chaos of 1477, the order had been devastated. Twelve of the thirty members had died, including the sovereign Charles, and five of its members had defected over to French side. Louis XI had made suggestions towards holding a Chapter of the Order himself, no doubt wishing to take over the sovereignty of this illustrious chivalric group. But instead, in an elaborate public ceremony at Bruges on April 30, 1478, Maximilian was first ordained as a knight by Adolf of Cleves and then inaugurated as the sovereign of the Order. The survival of the Order, and Maximilian’s legitimacy as the successor of Charles, was emphasized in the speeches, services and ceremonies. A mourning procession, including a white horse carrying Charles’ golden collar wound its way through Bruges to the St Saviors church, where the collar was symbolically laid at the altar. Following that, Maximilian was brought in, everybody changed out of their mourning clothes and into their ceremonial garb, and placed the chain around Maximilian’s neck. Historian Sonja Dünnebeil wrote of it “the act took place less on a political level but rather on a social level of superior importance. This splendid celebration stood out as the highlight of the time of initiation, demonstrating that the crisis had been overcome and that it was time to return to normality, and also demonstrating that celebrating festivals was possible again, after all”. Maximilian was firmly positioning himself on the public stage as the rightful successor of the deceased Burgundian duke.

Not long after the truce with France was finalised, the union between Burgundy and Habsburg was cemented when Mary and Maximilian welcomed their first child into the world on 22 July, 1478. It was a boy and they called him Philip, after his grandfather, because, you know, why not just keep choosing from a list of, like, five names? Anyone worried about another complicated succession must have breathed a sigh of relief.

The birth of a male heir provided Maximilian with greater political stability in the realm, as well as a new political weapon. Even though his son was only an infant, he was instantly one of the most eligible bachelors around and, just as their parents had done to them, Maximilian and, to a lesser extent, Mary, could and would utilise the prospect of marriage to the heir of both Burgundian and Habsburg entitlements. Monarchs and other rulers around Europe lifted their eyebrows upon hearing of young Philip’s birth. Most would have run various scenarios through their heads that included how their own daughters or sisters might fit into calculations of his future matrimony and whether such scenarios could enhance their own positions of power. Even though Margaret of York had been persistently entreating her brother, King Edward IV of England, to jump in with Maximilian against France, the English had remained noticeably disengaged with the escalations of this war. Edward, however, had a daughter, Anne. With the birth of a male heir to Burgundy and Austria, there was now an extremely enticing reason for him to change this policy in the future, encouraged, of course, by his sister, the Dowager Duchess Margaret.

Hedgehogs of death at Guinegate

In July, 1479, the truce with France ended. The result of this, on August 7, was the only major battle of the conflict, which happened in Artois, outside the town of Guinegate, also sometimes quite alluringly called, Enguinegatte. In this engagement, it is reckoned that around 25,000 Burgundian troops, nobility, and Swiss and German mercenaries, faced off against around 11,000 French troops and nobility. The Battle of Guinegate was nowhere near the biggest or most calamitous battle in European history, nor one which necessarily changed the tide of geo-political history. Guinegate is, however, remarkable, and for more than just sounding like a scandal involving a rodent. As we know, Burgundian forces had, only three years earlier, been intensely involved a campaign against the Swiss. We did not really go into this in previous episodes, but, over the previous couple of centuries, Swiss troops and mercenaries had been employing the use of long-pikes and had developed the military formation of the pike-square, sometimes called the igel, or hedgehog. This formation was, generally, ten rows of ten men standing in a square, all hundred of them holding really long, stabby pikes. The men were trained to move as one and point their pikes in whatever direction was necessary, making them extremely difficult to attack. The men who found themselves at the front of the square would know to kneel when needed, allowing the pikes of their brethren behind them to protrude through and into their enemies’ faces. Under heavy assault, say by cavalry, they would jam the butts of their pikes into the ground in a coordinated fashion, essentially creating a terrifying wall of stabbiness. Since the middle of the 14th century, wider European military tactics had absorbed and expanded upon the English use of long bows. But the utilisation of the igel helped to counter this, as the strategy at the core of its use was to move quickly, aggressively and as one unit towards enemy forces, over-taking archers with shock and awe. It was upon encountering these formations, which could also link up to form an army’s entire front, that Charles’ forces had met defeat in Murten and Grandson and their wintry demise outside Nancy.

Although Charles the Bold’s armies had been destroyed, there were many nobility and military commanders who had fought in these wars, yet had survived to return to Burgundian service. One of these was the Count of Romont, one of the sons of the Duke of Savoy, who became a military advisor of Maximilian. At Guinegate they decided to structure their forces up in massive squares, emulating the Swiss igel. At first, the Burgundian left flank was hit hard, causing many knights to flee and exposing them greatly, but the French troops took the opportunity to chase after them, causing dissolution in their own ranks, which were then mowed down by these Burgundian Swiss-style hedgehogs of death. 

Philip de Commynes wrote of it: “...the duke's foot kept their ground, though they were vigorously attacked , having with them on foot two hundred gentlemen, all good officers, and brave men, and among them the count de Romont ; a son of the house of Savoy, the count de Nassau, and several others who are still living. The bravery and conduct of these gentlemen kept the whole body together, which was very much, after the defeat of their cavalry: the king's Frank archers fell a-plundering the duke's wagons, and all that attended them...some of the duke's forces rallied, attacked, and cut off a great number of them. On the duke's side the slaughter was greater, and more prisoners were taken, but he remained master of the field of battle.”

So it was that Maximilian and the Burgundian forces won the only large-scale battle of this war. It is, however, pretty widely recognised that, afterwards, the Swiss Pike Formation became a staple measure of continental military tactics for, at least, the next two hundred years. It was only in the late 17th century that bayonets, coupled with quicker loading times for muskets, would lessen the impact of the Pike square.

After his success at Guinegate, Maximilian faced growing pressure by Flemish power brokers, especially the city of Ghent, to put an end to the state of warfare which they had now been enduring, and paying the costs of, for more than a decade. They had agreed to fund Maximilian’s army on the grounds that he was defending Flanders from the troops which had been causing so much devastation due to their incursions from the neighbouring provinces. It can hardly be surprising, though, that Maximilian’s priorities were more focused on increasing the glory of Habsburg honour and expanding his dynastic domains. He was more focused on retaking Artois and Picardy back from Louis XI than paying regard to the demands of his subjects.

Building a balance of power

Louis XI, he was now in his late-fifties and in a state of physical decline. Despite this, he had always proven way more adept at and willing to engage in underhand political manipulation against his foes, rather than out-right warfare. So following the battle of Guinegate, the competition between them continued, but no more direct and major battles occurred. Instead, Louis set about putting more energy into undermining Maximilian in more insidious ways, such as fomenting and supporting unrest and anti-Burgundian/Habsburg in Guelders, Luxembourg and Liege,  some of which we are going to touch on in the second part of this episode.

Team Burgundy-Habsburg, however, were also working hard on undermining Louis XI. In 1480, one particular approach began to yield results. Margaret of York had been working hard on convincing her brother, Edward IV, to forsake the Treaty of Picquigny that he had signed with Louis XI in 1475. In August, Edward finally agreed and also renewed the one which he had made with Charles the Bold the year before that. To reach this agreement, Maximilian basically put the same temptations on the table as Charles had earlier tried to force down Edward’s throat. In his book, For the Common Good, historian Jelle Haemars wrote of the diplomatic process in achieving this:

“An instruction of Maximilian to his representatives in London... reflects the overweening ambitions of both Maximilian and Edward IV. The Habsburg prince encouraged the English king to join in the French war, because this would not only prevent French dominance on the continent, but also lead to English invasion of France. The Burgundian court would recapture its lost territories, and the English king might win 'the crown of France’”

As we repeatedly keep coming to, the best way for rulers to further weave their tentacles into the dimensions of political power was to have children and marry them off to the best-prospect. The birth of their first son, Philip, in 1478, helped strengthen relations across the channel and a part of the Anglo-Burgundian treaty was that the young Philip of Burgundy would marry Edward’s daughter, Anne. More importantly for the immediately pressing issue of French aggression, this arrangement included a dowry of 100,000 crowns as well as a contingent of English archers that soon be arriving on Flemish shores as well, with 2,000 English pounds to pay for them. This agreement understandably infuriated the French king, who then sought and brokered an alliance with the king of Scotland as well as those anti-Burgundian elements of the Low Countries in whose ears he was whispering. A balance of power settled over western Europe which, while it did not end the Franco-Burgundian war, still made everybody sit back a little.

Welcome to ruling Flanders…

By 1480 Maximilian was coming to understand the complexities of ruling the Low Countries. His foreign policy dealings were conducted without consultation of the States General, upon whom he was continually having to lean for ever more money. Rather than negotiating an end to the war with France, Maximilian still aimed to re-take Artois and Picardy and so had stopped short of peace, only agreeing to an armistice. By the second half of 1480, the city of Ghent, in particular, had become so disillusioned with Maximilian that they accused him of failing to live up to his promises. The war was no longer about national defence, but rather it was now an offensive war for a prestige project by Maximilian. They detested what they saw as his autocracy in conducting foreign affairs, without any consultation with the States. Maximilian and Ghent’s relationship broke down so badly, that the richest city in Maximilian’s realm now refused to pay any more financial aides to him and even stopped going to any meetings of the States of Flanders which were discussing his money issues. Considering the terms of the Great Privilege required the States approval for aides, and if they weren’t there they couldn’t give approval, this was closing the door on one his most vital revenue streams.

Maximilian’s next move reflected his identification as a prince who should not be beholden to the demands of the lower classes, no matter how rich or privileged they were. He summoned representatives from the small towns around Ghent which, according to Ghent’s privileges, fell under its jurisdiction. He ordered these town to pay the aides. Ghent swiftly sent its own representatives to remind these small towns of these privileges, which the small towns were forced to concede. Maximilian would not get the money out of Ghent this way, either. 

Economic history is not our favourite realm. We barely understand our own finances, as meagre as they are, let alone the fiscal monetary policies of the administration of a complex and loosely federated, late medieval, political entity. But we certainly are glad that other people have spent years of their life pouring over the receipts of the many different treasuries and Chambers of Accounts in Burgundy. If this is the kind of stuff that tickles your fancy, then go read Jelle Haemers’ book For the Common Good, which goes over all of this with a fine-tooth comb.

That being said, we cannot overstate how dire the condition of Habsburg-Burgundian finances were at this stage.

Unable to get the aides he required from Ghent and other dissenting members of the estates, Maximilian was forced to pawn off jewellery and other valuables, force members of his administration to lend money to the state and, in a defiance of terms within the Great Privilege, reintroduced tolls which had been abolished and sold off powerful offices to the highest bidders. But most importantly he took huge loans and got caught in a spiral of debt. By the early 1480s any revenue coming in from his domains was barely covering the interest that the state owed, let alone the debt itself, and so any money which was coming in was just going into the wallets of the bankers, nobles and merchants who had given him loans. It had become impossible for him to meet the demands of his responsibility as a sovereign prince, a military leader and also to remain answerable to the States General. 

As Jelle Haemers put it: “Maximilian was caught in a complicated web of political and financial dependence on foreign sovereigns, merchants, and bankers, and on state officials bent on increasing their own power. In their quest for financing, the archduke and his administration valued state financial interests more highly than maintenance of the privileges of 1477.”

In hindsight, Maximilian’s broader issue, in facing his financial dire straits, was that he had come to power in a period during which his realm and subjects were transitioning from living in a domain state, typical of medieval, feudal society, to a fiscal state, which would become more the norm in the mercantile-dominated centuries to come. Keeping financial viability while defending Burgundy against France demanded a centralised fiscal policy that could match what the French king could muster. Maximilian simply did not have a possibility of achieving this and, so, could be easily hamstrung by something as straight-forward as Ghent simply refusing to cough up. While this was bad for Maximilian, it was also making life for his subjects increasingly difficult. The leasing out of judicial posts meant that your chances of getting fair justice were increasingly slim, the taxes you were paying now were even worse than under Charles the Bold and local powers of position that affected you personally were, once again, going to foreigners who had bought them. To make matter worse, the more-than-a-decade of warfare hadn’t ended and all the fighting had degraded the food supply. When the Hansa city of Gdansk banned the export of grain between 1480-83, and then crops in the Low Countries failed in those years, the price of grain shot through the roof. In Bruges alone, between 1476-1481, wheat prices quadrupled. All of this was used by Maximilian’s opponents to foster dissent and dissatisfaction with his rule.

…and trying to rule Guelders…

Maximilian had to deal with other major issues closer to home as well. In the northern territories, various iterations of civil unrest that had long laid dormant below the surface of socio-political tensions now came to bear. As we mentioned in the previous episode, Guelders had used the occasion of Charles the Bold’s death to kick out ducal administrators and declare independence. After the gallant death of Adolf of Guelders against the French outside Tournai, his son and heir Charles was kept at the Burgundian court, while Adolf’s sister Catherine, ruled as regent in his stead, in opposition to Maximilian. Her Uncle, William of Egmont, who was pro-Burgundian and had helped Charles conquer Guelders in the first place, sought to displace her and return Guelders to Maximilian’s rule. In 1478 Willam of Egmont took the city of Arnhem and joined forces with the Duke of Cleves, but their alliance was unpopular and unable to find much support within the populace. In Zutphen, the Bishop of Munster, Hendrick von Schwarzburg, was declared as the guardian of the county. In 1479 Catherine agreed to a peace with Maximilian, but the next year, as part of Louis’s plans to foment further dissent around the Low Countries, she agreed to an anti-Maximilian pact with Louis XI. She went to France expecting to find some kind of material support from Louis, but must have been disappointed to find that none was forthcoming. How Louis XI is that? Although he might not have wanted to help Catherine, however, he was interested in helping himself, so when their truce expired as Maximilian was busy in Guelders, French troops took over Namur and Luxembourg. Maximilian’s armies were able to conquer more of Guelders through 1481 and when the Bishop of Munster bailed from Zutphen in 1482, there weren’t really any other options open for her than to agree to a peace with Maximilian again. She was permitted to live out her days in a place called Geldern, but would continue to support the idea of young Charles one day reclaiming his position as Duke of Guelders.

…and stopping factional fighting in Holland…

Maximilian also found himself mixed up in the Hook and Cod factionalism that was surging once more in Holland and, by extension, Utrecht. You might remember that the Great Privilege had stipulated that stadhouders of territories must be local to those territories and, by this right, the previous Stadhouder of Holland & Zeeland, Louis van Gruuthuyse, had been replaced by the Zeelander, Wolfert van Borsselen. The rise in Cod embitterment in Holland was fuelled mainly by a perceived increase of Hook partisans in powerful positions since the 1470s. In the Hague, Cods had ransacked the palace of the stadhouder and when van Borsselen, new to the job, found out, he got the sooks and became a committed Hook supporter. With little to lose, the Cods then went and took over towns like Leiden and Amsterdam, banishing Hook partisans. Some of these Hooks made their way to Utrecht, which had itself kicked out the Burgundian prince-bishop David of Burgundy, during the upheavals of 1477. They had appointed a guy called Jan van Montfoort as “hoofdman”, who was sympathetic with the Hooks in neighbouring Holland.

By 1480, Maximilian was clearly frustrated with all of the internal squabbling going on in the Low Countries. He replaced the highly partisan Hook stadhouder of Holland, Wolfert van Borsselen, with someone he hoped was probably neutral in this conflict, a man from Hainault called Josse de Lalaing. The thing is, though, that as a foreigner, appointing him as the stadhouder of Holland and Zeeland was in violation of the Great Privilege. Again, Maximilian showed his willingness to step on the terms which Mary had consented to. 

At the beginning of 1481 a group of Hook supporters, with the help of sympathetic Utrecht nobles such as Jan van Montfoort, conducted a stunning raid in Holland on the city of Leiden. The story of this raid is covered in 18th century Dutch historian Jan van Wagenaar’s epic Vaderlandsche Historie. During the early hours of the morning, a group of just over a hundred men, some of whom had been expelled by Cods two years earlier, as well as many from Utrecht, and who were led by a man from Guelders named Reynier van Broekhuizen, were able to scale the city walls in silence. Once inside, they stabbed a sentry to death, climbed on top of the town hall to announce their arrival, broke into it and took a bunch of the most important Cod administrators of the city prisoner. Thank goodness that doesn’t happen anymore. At some point in the confusion, a bunch of gunpowder which was stored in the basement of the town hall exploded, destroying the building and killing around 40 people in the process. 

The Cod-towns like Haarlem, Delft and Amsterdam were extremely unhappy about what had happened in Leiden, and pressured the new stadhouder, Josse de Lalaing, to deal with the Hooks. De Lalaing’s forces were able to wrest back control of other Hook-dominated towns which had supported the events in Leiden, such as Dordrecht. At Dordrecht, the Cod armies were smuggled into the town’s harbour in broad daylight by a sympathetic insider, hidden inside two boats and covered with supplies, like a trojan horse boat. They completely caught the town off guard and began rounding up and arresting Hooks. At some point, they came across a group of important Hook officials, including the Mayor of Dordrecht, Gilles Adrianszoon. In the confusion of the surprise attack, Adrianszoon had accidentally grabbed a copper pot instead of his helmet, so when he came face to face with the attackers it was whilst wearing a pot on his head, which is delightfully ridiculous. The Cod troops didn’t take pity on the pot-headed mayor, however, and he and several others were beaten to death. Although de Lalaing was able to take back several other important Cod towns, he wasn’t able to take Leiden without the help of extra troops sent to him by Maximilian. Finally, after a two week siege, Leiden capitulated on 14 April, 1481. Maximilian personally went there three days later, to deal out large financial punishments on the city. Most of the important Hooks who had initially taken over Leiden were actually able to escape back to Utrecht, however, where they again found refuge with Jan van Montfoort. Maximilian had effectively given power to Cod-dominated urban power bases in Holland, which would come to benefit him in a few years down the line when, (surprise, surprise) he would go looking for more money from them. But at the same time, in this deeply partisan struggle, the basis of which pretty much boiled down to “Hello, I’m a Hook, you are a Cod and killed my father, prepare to die”, Maximilian had alienated the other side of the conflict.

But despite Maximilian’s intervention the factional warring which had bubbled up in Holland and now spilled out over its borders into the neighbouring provinces continued on. Just after the recapture of Leiden, on May 14, the city of Utrecht, probably nervous about a vengeful Maximilian being so close by, quickly reconciled with the deposed bishop David and he was allowed back into the town. On 7 August, however, Jan van Montfoort, maybe feeling emboldened by the arrival of these extremist, anti-Burgundian Hook exiles, once again led a coup in the city, chasing away his opponents and those urging peace, so as to once again take control. The city of Amersfoort also joined in with this rebellion against the Maximilian and the Burgundian puppet prince-bishop. The City of Utrecht once again refused to let David of Burgundy enter the town, so once again, he was forced to take refuge in his castle at Wijk bij Duurstede.

Don’t have a cow…take 1500 of them

After again being kicked out of Utrecht, David of Burgundy sent a message to Maximilian, who was hunting in the Veluwe, asking for help. Maximlian sent him a contingent of troops, led by a Basque noble, Jean van Salazar. Salazar had first been in the service of Louis XI, but later defected to Charles the Bold and then joined up with Maximilian, for whom he fought during the Battle of Guinegate. Salazar and the bishop’s men together added up to about 1000 men, who were directed by David to go and plunder the countryside around the rebellious town of Amersfoort. They embarked on a four day mission from Wijk bij Duurstede, heading towards Amersoft, raiding said countryside. It sounds kind of jolly when you put it like that, but it must have been awful for the farmers who had to deal with a bunch of armed men going around, burning down their homes and stealing their cows. According to a chronicle of Utrecht written by Antonius Matthaeus a couple of hundred years after the event, they were able to steal about 1500 beasts, “big and small”, by which we presume he means cows, sheep and pigs, but could just also mean… big cows and small cows. 

Of course, the Hooks in nearby Amersfoort could not just idly sit back and watch their enemies take their cows. The mayor of Amersfoort, Jan van Westrenen, rang the bells of the town, gave a rousing speech and gathered together a group of about 400 men to go out with their banners and confront them. The Amersfoorters were no doubt an inexperienced city militia, led by their mayor, coming up against battle hardened forces. Unbeknownst to the Amersforters, the bishop’s troops had actually split themselves into two groups. Salazar’s men, leading the cows away, were actually sent out as bait and led the Amersforters into an ambush outside the town of Scherpenzeel, where the other half were waiting. The resulting Battle of Scherpenzeel, which took place on the 23rd of September, 1481, ended in a resounding defeat for the Amersfoorters. Around 100 of them were killed and another 200 or so were taken prisoner. The Battle of Scherpenzeel was certainly not a defining battle in the annals of European history, but, for the people who were caught in the middle of it all, and whose communities were devastated, it must have been bloody awful. It’s also just interesting to take notice of the fact that although warfare is sometimes about an epic clash of kings competing for the continent’s pendulum of power to swing their way, often it was also just about one group of people stealing another group of people’s cows.

Losing the VIP nobility

Dissatisfaction with Maximilian was rising not only within the Estates and the citizens, but also within the nobility at the court. Adolf of Ravenstein had been an integral part of ducal administration since the 1450s and Mary once referred to him as amongst ‘our closest relatives.’ During the far-away military campaigns in Charles the Bold’s final years he, along with people like Humbercourt, Hugonet and Gruuthuyse, had basically run Burgundy. One could say that, at this time, he had become a part of the very fabric of its governance. As mentioned last episode, he had tried his best to get Mary, whom he would later refer to as ‘the creature on earth he liked the most’ to accept his son, Philip, as her husband. Although this failed, when Maximilian arrived and took charge, as a 20 year old, high born and egotistical prince, Adolf had been there to welcome him and, as mentioned, anointed him as a knight of the Order of the Golden Fleece. He had even been given the honour of lifting the young heir, Philip, above the baptismal font. He had done very well out of all of this, being granted the fiefdom of Wijnendaele. He also married well, landing him other titles in Zeeland and he had come to own possessions across the Low Countries, including residences in both Ghent and Brussels. He was what historian Jelle Haemers refers to as ‘a member of supra-regional nobility.’

Yet, during Maximilian’s early tenure, Ravenstein began to fall further and further out of his favour, largely because this new young buck was trying to build up a base of nobles loyal to him, rather having to rely on these independent, hugely influential lords whose personal interests weren’t necessarily aligned with his. Like Wolfert van Borsselen, who had been removed as the stadhouder of Holland & Zeeland, Ravenstein needed to shore himself up against the autocracy of the young prince. Van Borsselen and Ravenstein found allies in each other, and promptly arranged for their children to be married. Ravenstein was also the brother-in-law of Louis de Gruuthuyse, who himself had been off-set by the young prince. Together, these three would form the basis of a powerful alliance which would soon clash head-on with Maximilian. As Haemers writes, “for the first time in this century, the Burgundian nobility was divided and an important group of nobles had become alienated from the court”.

The death of Mary of Burgundy

In the context of this shifting power dynamic, we can only speculate about what might have happened if Mary and Maximilian had been given a longer period of time ruling jointly. Perhaps together they may have been able to steer the ship away from the rocks which it was veering dangerously close to.

But we will never know, because in early March, 1482, the Lord of Ravenstein organised a hunt outside Wijnendael castle in which Mary and Maximilian took part. As we are well aware, Mary was fond of hunting. She loved being on her horse, rocking around with her falcon, killing things. We have known her since she was but a child, so please allow me the indulgence of handing over to the words of 19th century historian, Marian Andrews, who wrote under the male-pseudonym, Christopher Hare and who, despite her work being extremely outdated and based more on the fantasy of Maximilian’s biographies than the truth, still paints an amazing picture of this event that we feel does justice to what Mary’s existence had come to represent.

“Early in the spring of 1482, on a bright March morning, the princely pair rode forth with a gay company, from their palace at Bruges, for a hawking expedition in the low-lying marshy swamps of the meadows which girdle the city. Here the herons are wont to congregate on the sedgy banks of the canals, and there was every prospect of excellent sport. Marie, full of eagerness as she led the way, for her falcon had just struck a heron, put her horse at a dyke, but he missed his footing, stumbled and fell, throwing his rider heavily to the ground. With no thought of herself, her only desire being not to alarm her husband, the Duchess made light of the accident, and it is doubtful if she received proper medical care in time ; but in any case, the injury proved fatal. Within less than three weeks, the great heiress of Burgundy and its vast dominions - tenderly loved wife and happy mother—was to pass away, to the terrible grief of the bereaved Maximilian. Overwhelmed with despair, he had lost all self-control in her sick-chamber, and broke down with such heart-rending sobs, that poor Marie herself had to implore him to leave the room and compose himself.”

Mary’s death would suddenly throw the Low Countries into yet another constitutional and succession crisis. Yes, Mary and Maximilian had two living children, but their heir apparent, Philip, wasn’t even five years old. Mary and Maximilian’s wedding contract which had been approved by the States General had ensured that Maximilian would not be allowed to inherit the Burgundian lands. But in the weeks between the riding accident and her death, Mary had sufficient time to get her affairs in order. As she lay on her death bed on 24 March, 1482, she had her testament adjusted to say that Maximilian should be given the guardianship over their children, meaning that he would rule as their regent after her death. She gathered the most important nobles and members of the Golden Fleece around her bed to swear oaths of allegiance to Maximilian. So when Mary died three days later, the Low Countries were left with two legitimate but competing claims about what might follow. Would Maximilian be able to establish his regency, or would the many enemies he had made in his 5 years jointly ruling with Mary take the opportunity this crisis presented to rid themselves of the autocratic Austrian prince? We’ll find out in the upcoming episodes of History of the Netherlands.

Sources used:

Margaret of York: The Diabolical Duchess by Christine Weightman

Charles the Bold, the Last Duke of Burgundy by Ruth Putnam

The Promised Lands by Wim Blockmans and Walter Prevenier

Monarchies, States Generals and Parliaments by Helmut Koenigsberger

The Historical Memoirs of Philip de Comines, Containing the Transactions of Lewis XI and of Charles VIII of France and of Edward IV and Henry VII of England by Philippe de Commyne

‘The Burgundian Netherlands, 1477–1521’ in The New Cambridge Modern History, chapter by C. A. J. Armstrong

Louis XI: The Universal Spider by Paul Murray Kendall

Catharina van Gelre by Jan Kuys in: Digitaal Vrouwenlexicon van Nederland

Maximilian the Dreamer by Christopher Hare (Marian Andrews)

For the Common Good by Jelle Haemers

‘Stedelijke opstanden en staatsvorming in het graafschap Vlaanderen (1477-1492)’ by Jelle Haemers

‘The Order of the Golden Fleece in the year 1478 – continuity or recommencement?’ by Sonia Dünnebeil

Handboek tot de Staatkundige Geschiedenis van Nederland by I. H. Gosses

Vaderlandsche Historie (Vol 4.) by Jan Wagenaar

Bisschop David van Bourgondië en zijn stad. Utrechtsch-Hollandsche jaarboeken 1481-1483, by Antonius Matthaeus.

‘The Battle of Scherpenzeel’ http://hookandcod.gerard-jan.nl/the-battle-of-scherpenzeel/