Florence, Constantinople, Paintings and Books
1477 - 1502
At this time, King Otokar betook himself south to the sunnier climes of Florence and Rome where he sojourned for nearly four years. One notable benefice deriving from this prolonged absence was the introduction of exquisite works of Italian painting and sculpture to Bohemia. Masterworks from Tuscany were already very much
à la mode in Vienna and even in Munich. Architects, engineers and painters began flocking to Prague to embellish the aspect of the capital city’s churches and squares. They found ample inspiration for decorating chapels and salons both following the beatification of a Jagiellon princess, Agnes of name. Consumed with envy, the nobles houses of Bavaria disgraced themselves by publishing pamphlets of increasing hostility towards their former ally.
Aesthetics, however, in no wise lulled King Otokar into neglecting the fine art of military discipline and the machinery of conquest. Upon his return to Prague in 1478, the king so increased exercises and the tactical precision of the royal regiments that, in a matter of years, the soldiery of Bohemia became renowned throughout the Empire as a body of unequalled valour.
They were soon to prove themselves worthy of their reputation.
The rulership of the Habsburg emperor had ceased to inspire confidence amongst his subjects, even amongst the Germanic princes. Tensions only increased when the emperor’s health began to decline. King Otokar deployed an army of ambassadors to gather support for the Palatine Elector as successor to the Imperial Crown. Saxony took umbrage at this initiative. In 1482, the Saxon nobleman who had married into a Bohemian ancient family passed away. By tacit mutual agreement, the pact of non aggression that marriage had implied was forgotten.
In the spring of 1484, after a reign of four and twenty years, Leopold VIII von Habsburg passed away. Three months later, in the Basilica of Sant’ Apollinare in Ravenna, the Palatine Elector was chosen as head of the Empire.
Immediately upon his return to Prague, Otokar led his fighting men into Saxony.
Despite a prolonged winter and miserable fighting conditions, Bohemia showed the world that forgiveness did indeed go hand in hand with superiority. In September 1485, the Saxon Elector sued for peace. Bohemia annexed the province of Saxony and received war damages.
The following spring, King Otokar passed away. It was the forty-second year of his magnificent reign.
He was succeeded by his son Jirí, a prince who had played an important role in bringing the realm’s fighting force up to excellent standards. His sense of repartee and perceptive mind had also made a most favourable impression on the ministers at Court.
His ascension to the throne was, however, immediately followed by controversy.
“I am accused of
what ?” he cried.
“There is no accusation whatsoever,
Altezza,” replied Monsignore Umberto da Forlí, the Papal Legate who had appeared at Court two days earlier. “Certain documents have reached the attention of His Holiness whose precise interpretation is much subject to debate.”
“Other documents in my possession, on the contrary,” retorted Jirí, “reveal none too clearly that Their Graces of Saxony and Bavaria are conspiring against the throne of Bohemia ! The word
Crusade was employed. To my knowledge, Monsignore, Crusades are waged only against Infidels !”
“It is common knowledge,
Altezza, that Hussite heretics were once strong in this kingdom. His Holiness would be greatly distressed if it were reported that they continue to propagate their senseless doctrines.”
At length, it was decided that an
auto-da-fé would be celebrated in Prague, during which fifty or sixty suspected Hussites would be burned at the stake. When invited to light the first pyre himself, Monsignore da Forlí declined.
At the same time, the new Habsburg prince sparked his own wars of conquest, causing Jirí’s ministers to entertain second thoughts about the wisdom of their alliance with Austria.
“He is exercising his right, my Lords,” said Jirí. “The Italian dukes, and Venice in particular, have for too long flaunted their disregard for the authority of the emperor. Besides, the Doge of Venice has been excommunicated. He is unfit to rule.”
A minor crisis occurred during the summer of 1492. After reigning less than eight years, the emperor passed away. A Diet was convened in Potsdam. Thanks to Jirí’s diligent diplomacy, the Palatine Elector was chosen to carry on the mission of safeguarding the Empire. The Habsburg prince, deprived of the imperial crown for a second time, demonstrated his displeasure by invading Alsace, which he annexed without eliciting a murmur from the newly elected emperor. At Court, Jirí continued to make excuses for his overly zealous ally.
“We have not been called to assist in these Habsburg aggressions, my Lords. For that we can be nothing but grateful. Furthermore, the longer we have Austria on our side, the better the chances that he will
not negotiate a Royal Marriage with Hungary.”
For Hungary, Bohemia’s implacable foe, was known to be courting the Viennese in view of forming what Jirí could only imagine as a most diabolical alliance.
“So be it, Sire,” the Supreme Chancellor replied, “for the time being. But Austria and Bavaria are birds of a same feather. Birds of prey, to be precise. Beware, lest they hunger after Your Majesty’s demesnes !”
Subsequent developments reflected the volatile nature of relations between princes of the Empire, and indeed between the ancient families of Bohemia, so imbued with the sense of their own nobility, and so jealous of privileges that had long ceased to be relevant in the changing world. Nonetheless, it came as a shock when the Emperor, whom Jirí had intrigued to put on the Imperial Throne, allowed it to be understood that Bohemia, in his eyes, had fallen into disgrace.
“The Devil take the Palatine scum !” exclaimed Jirí.
“Fortunately, Sire, our ambassador to the Court of Denmark can boast of happier events. Relations between our two kingdoms are much improved.”
Diplomacy on the home front pressed further ahead. For the king had found a way to consolidate his position amongst the peers of the realm by flattering their sense of importance. He decreed that they should enjoy the privilege of electing their monarch, and not only when the throne became vacant. (What would happen to any squire who refused to endorse the election of a Jagiellon prince remained politely vague.)
The king’s preoccupation with the nobility led him to fall slightly afoul of the more enterprising bourgeoisie. As a further sign of the Royal Family’s precedence, he had commissioned a brilliant Bohemian architect to turn the king’s residence in Prague into the Eighth Wonder of the World. Funding for the sprawling new wings came from increased taxes. But the artisans threatened revolt, and Jirí was obliged to recognise that he needed the backing of the merchant class as much as he needed the nobility. Taxes were reduced. Then Jirí won back their full respect when he announced that Bohemia would sustain her calling as patron of the world-renowned School of Florence, and that local artists could apply for aid in pursuing their training at the feet of Florentine Masters. The incident of the taxes was immediately forgotten, and the life of Jirí’s father, King Otokar of Bohemia, became the stuff of legend.
Meanwhile, the incessant quibbling amongst the German princes contrived to play into Jirí’s dreams of expansion. The Elector Prince-Archbishop of Mainz had declared war on the Count of Wurzburg. Lacking sufficient soldiery in his service, the Prince-Archbishop later settled for a White Peace. Jirí made his move immediately thereafter. Without giving Wurzburg any time to recover, he marched his men into that province in the spring of 1497. The Count capitulated, thus allowing Bohemia to annex the last remaining province of the Duchy of Franconia.
Not surprisingly, the Emperor saw fit to demand the restoration of the Count to his rightful demesne. Jirí despatched a succinct note to the emperor inviting him to drop the matter, lest Bohemia withdraw its support for the Palatinate at the next imperial election.
“The Duke of Silesia, Sire,” the castle major domo intoned.
“Show him in, Wojtec,” sighed Jirí.
The Duke of Silesia, nominal head of Bohemia’s vassal territory on the border with Poland, rushed into the audience chambre.
“Your Majesty ! Something must be done immediately ! The hordes of refugees — no respect for privilege or good manners ! They’re eating us out of house and home —”
“A good day to you too, Your Grace,” replied Jirí. “No respect for good manners, did you say ?”
“None whatso — oh !” The Duke took a hold of himself and bowed silently.
“And how goes our loyal Silesian Guard, Your Grace ?”
“The Silesian Guard ? Very well indeed, Sire, if I may say so myself. They are the talk of the entire —”
“Excellent. I know all about the refugees from Constantinople, my Lord. It seems that the Turks have allowed them to escape with many priceless objects, notably some very ancient and holy manuscripts. And some pagan ones too.”
“Really ?”
“I trust you have nearly finished making an extensive inventory of this fabulous treasure that Heaven has graciously accorded us ? Bohemia’s destiny as a pillar of wisdom, beauty and science rests in your hands, my Lord.”
“Inventory ? I — well, that is — I was not —”
“Excellent ! You have the King’s permission to spend lavishly on the safekeeping of this legacy,” said Jirí, pulling on a nearby silken cord. The major domo appeared at the door.
“A propos, Your Majesty, the cost of feeding all these —”
“Pray excuse me, my Lord, but pressing matters await me. Those uneducated Magyars have declared war on the Turk. Heaven only knows how many priceless manuscripts they will destroy in their lust for silver and gold. Meanwhile, the Habsburgs have annexed Salzbourg, and Brandenburg is ravishing what remains of Saxony. Sad times for the civilised world, Your Grace !”
In a different room not very far from the audience chambre, where not even the major domo was admitted, Jirí conferred with an untitled man whom he placed in much higher esteem than the Duke of Silesia.
“You are sure of this ?”
“Less than three thousand of the king’s men-at-arms remain around Pest, Majesty,” the man replied lowly. “Whereas the Bosnian rebels have already reached four times that number.”
“Then the plan shall proceed.”
Two leather pouches, each containing a hundred ducats, exchanged hands. Not that Jirí pitied the plight of the Bosnian people oppressed by their Magyar overlords. It was the neighbouring Slovaks he was interested in. With Hungary fighting the Ottomans, and Bosnian rebels honing in on them from the rear, it was Jirí’s hope that he would be able to liberate, little by little, his Slovakian neighbours, and welcome them, like the Byzantine refugees, to fair and prosperous Bohemia, together with the lands that were rightfully theirs.
