Holy Roman Empire

A Captivating Guide to the Holy Roman Empire and Carolingian Dynasty

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Part 1: The Holy Roman Empire

A Captivating Guide to the Union of Smaller Kingdoms That Started During the Early Middle Ages and Dissolved During the Napoleonic Wars

Introduction

A red-bearded king with a blazing sword swept away by the river in his last crusade. A sacrilegious young pope engaged in much debauchery. A fierce foreign princess with an ax to grind and a knack for diplomacy. A dowager empress who refused to let her family down, no matter the cost. An ambitious teenage princess marrying for power and grappling for the right to her throne. A romantic poet, his heart long lost on a woman with whom he’d exchanged but one word. And, at the end of it all, a rising tyrant with a blow that felled empires.

These read like the characters of some exciting fantasy, a concoction of imagination to enchant and delight readers. Yet every single one of them was as real as you and me. And they all populated, at some time or another, an empire whose might would hold for a thousand years and whose borders would expand to swallow up the majority of Western Europe: The Holy Roman Empire.

Beginning with Charlemagne, the great and educated king who would serve as an inspiration for world leaders from Frederick II to Adolf Hitler, the Holy Roman Empire’s intricate ties with the Roman Catholic Church would provide for plenty of excitement and drama in its early years. However, as the empire staggered through the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance, it would eventually be forced to declare its allegiance with a new way of thinking: Protestantism.

Throughout the story of the Holy Roman Empire, a wealth of fascinating tales from interesting people proliferates. Monks and emperors will clash, poets sing the praises of kings, and the pope rides blind and bareback on a frightened donkey through the streets of Rome. The mightiest monarch in all of Europe walks barefoot in the snow in repentance for his angry deeds, and two rival families stand toe-to-toe for the monarchy. Crusades are lost in war and won in diplomacy, while kings are held ransom, revolts are suppressed, and antipopes crowned. And this incredible tale spanning a full millennium is ready and waiting for you to turn the next page.

Chapter 1 – The First Roman Empire

Historians still remain in dispute over the ethnicity of Flavius Odoacer.

A tall, lean, powerfully built man, Odoacer was a soldier from the top of his head to the worn-out soles of his boots. The naked sword in his hand was not quite as sharp as the flash of fire in his eyes as he towered over the emperor of ancient Rome, demanding his surrender. Whether he was a member of the Germanic tribes acting independently, a former soldier of the Roman army, or even a Hun, it mattered little to the young emperor, Romulus Augustus, who now faced Odoacer’s bare blade. Romulus had been raised in a cushioned and privileged life in Ravenna as the son of an important commander in the Roman army, and he knew only one thing for sure about the strange mustachioed man who was bent on killing him unless he gave up the empire: Odoacer was a barbarian. And to the noble-blooded young Roman, “barbarian” meant anyone who came from outside the borders of his empire.

Once, the Roman Empire had been the greatest power in Europe, its borders stretching all the way from Egypt to Great Britain to Gaul to Asia Minor. But now, it was reduced to this single moment: a teenage emperor cowering before a barbarian, trying to decide whether or not to surrender.

* * * *

It was somewhat ironic that Romulus Augustus, who is often seen as the last emperor of Rome, bore those names.

His first name, Romulus, was then widely believed to be the root of the name “Rome.” The foundation myth of ancient Rome revolves around two brothers named Romulus and Remus, the sons of a Vestal Virgin and either Mars (the Roman god of war) or Hercules (a demigod hero in Roman mythology). Like Moses in the Nile, Romulus and Remus were thrown into the Tiber River of Italy as babies by a vengeful ruler, being swept away on its turbulent waters. Washed up on the shore, a wild she-wolf discovered the two little babies and suckled them, keeping them alive until a shepherd stumbled upon them and adopted them as his own. As adults, Romulus and Remus were determined to found a city on the very hills that they had roamed with their wild parent when they were just babies. When they couldn’t agree on which hill to build the city on, Romulus killed Remus and built his city on Palatine Hill, giving the city his name—Rome.

This story is now known to be pure mythology. In fact, the city of Rome was likely the result of a group of villages banding together against a common foe sometime in the 7th century BCE. The fledgling town proved to be more powerful than expected; military conquest after military conquest developed it into the city of Rome, and soon, it was ruled over by six kings who—generally—worked together to grow their communal power. However, this history had been largely forgotten by the Romans themselves in the hundreds of years between the founding of Rome around 625 BCE and the birth of its last emperor in 460 CE, and they firmly believed in the myth of Romulus and Remus. Romulus Augustus’ father, Orestes, was a general of the Roman army in a time when the once-great Roman Empire was falling apart. Perhaps envisioning a rebirth of its former glory, he named his child after its mythical founder.

Whatever the truth is behind the formation of Rome, by 510 BCE, it had obliterated the rivals that had unified the villages in the first place—the Etruscans—and became its own worst enemy. Angered by the actions of their monarchs, the Roman people rose up against them and rebelled, overthrowing the kings and establishing a revolutionary new method of government: the republic. While this republic divided the empire into two classes—the wealthy patricians who could hold government offices and the common plebeians who had no power whatsoever—it also established basic concepts that serve as the foundation for the U.S. government today, such as the drawing up of a constitution. The Roman Republic was ruled over by two consuls who were supported by a complicated network of politicians, including senators. The constitution did allow for the appointment of a dictator during emergencies, but this was rarely the case. The Roman Republic was able to stand for almost five hundred years, only dissolving in 27 BCE with the rise of the first Roman Emperor.

The last great dictator from the Roman Republic, Julius Caesar, ruled over a very different republic than the one that could be found in its early days: the line between patricians and plebeians was more fluid, and plebeians could even become part of the Roman Senate. But it was still not good enough for Julius Caesar’s successor, Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus, better known simply as Augustus. When Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 BCE, Octavianus was consul alongside Marcus Antonius (better known as Mark Antony in English), and co-ruling did not suit his arrogant nature. Antony married the then-ruler of Egypt, Cleopatra, and held considerable power until Octavianus overthrew him at the Battle of Actium in 31 BCE and made himself the sole ruler of Rome. Antony and Cleopatra were so devastated by the defeat that they both committed suicide, leaving the way wide open for Octavianus to seize all the power he could get. He abandoned the title of consul and gave himself another name, one with more imperial power: emperor. He renamed himself Caesar Augustus and became known as the first Roman Emperor.

Five hundred years had passed since the glory days of Augustus. Now, the last emperor of Rome was trembling at the blade of some barbarian, bearing the same name as that of the first great ruler of the city. Romulus Augustus’ name hinted at beginnings and rebirth, but he stood at the end of the twilight that had come after the long and glorious day of Rome’s power. The age of the emperors had given rise to good times and bad. Over 200 years of wealth and peace known as the Pax Romana, from 27 BCE to 180 CE, had ensured that the Roman Empire grew even more in power and size. Despite disasters, such as the reign of the wildly unstable Caligula and the eruption of the volcano Vesuvius, which wiped out two towns in a path of red-hot destruction, Rome’s borders continued to grow. A succession of strong leaders such as Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, and Marcus Aurelius ended in disaster when Aurelius—otherwise a wise and able leader despite ruling in a time of devastating conflict—handed the empire to his arrogant son, Commodus. Commodus cared for nothing but his own luxury, and his extravagance led to a steady decline with lands and power being stripped away from a steadily failing line of emperors. Attila commanded a horde of Huns in 450 to ring the death knell of the once-mighty Roman Empire, ravaging its borders, and Germanic tribes to the east started to seize back their lands, some of them assisted by the Byzantine Empire, which is also known as the Eastern Roman Empire.

But it was neither the Huns nor the Byzantine Empire that finally overthrew Rome. In fact, it was just another barbarian, Flavius Odoacer. He had been a part of the Roman army itself but always had other designs than simply serving the ancient empire; instead, he led his troops to invade Ravenna, which had been acting as the capital of the Roman Empire for around 75 years. And now he demanded the surrender of Romulus Augustus, the emperor himself.

Truth be told, faced with the choice between a sharp blade and losing his power, Romulus didn’t take very long to think. He was a sixteen-year-old kid at the time, and he had only “ruled” for less than a year. However, he was nothing more than a figurehead, with his father, Orestes, making all the decisions on his behalf. Romulus probably didn’t even want the empire in the first place, much less did he understand what it meant to rule it. With his father dead at the hands of tribes who had revolted, he surrendered at once, and Odoacer decided that he was too young to die, shipping him off to live out a peaceful life in a palace in Campania with a generous pension supplied by Odoacer’s new government.

Instead of crowning himself emperor, Odoacer just called himself a king—the King of Italy. So, the Roman Empire shattered into hundreds of countries. The great juggernaut of Rome had fallen. The empire was dead.

But it would rise again from the ashes. Three hundred years would pass, but once they had, like a blazing phoenix, the title of the Roman Empire would rise again.

Chapter 2 – The Carolingians

When the ancient Roman Empire shattered, the power in Europe was spread among literally hundreds of kings. The vacuum left by the empire was quickly filled as large numbers of peoples began to migrate from elsewhere in Europe, blending their culture with that of the Romans. Among these were the Ostrogoths, who settled in Italy in the late 5th and early 6th centuries and were ruled by King Theodoric I, as well as Slavic peoples, who settled in Eastern Europe, and Britons, who made their home in Brittany.

Cultures began to change as the “barbarian” tribes melded their customs with the more educated ways of the Romans. Literature declined in importance, as it was overtaken by music and the arts; even Latin itself, once the common language of the whole empire, was replaced by local dialects derived from Latin that would later evolve into modern-day Spanish, Italian, and French, among others.

Modern-day France, previously known as Gaul, which was a large province of the Roman Empire, was broken up into numerous smaller nations. This included Neustria, Burgundy, and Austrasia. Neustria was the western kingdom, and it would prove to be the most powerful of them all.

In 509 CE, Clovis I became the first Frankish king, uniting all of the Frankish tribes under one ruler. He converted his country to Christianity and then began to expand its borders more and more. Even though he only reigned for about two years, Clovis succeeded in establishing France as an important player in this new game that had recently lost one of its most important pieces. He became known as the founder of the Merovingian Dynasty.

Under the Merovingians, the Frankish kingdom continued to expand. Its two provinces, Austrasia and Neustria, however, were embroiled in a constant, bitter conflict during the 7th century. For many, the wars brought terrible loss and suffering; others tried to exploit this conflict, including Pepin (or Pippin) of Landen, the Austrasian Mayor of the Palace.

While the Franks were warring with one another, a far greater threat was making its way toward Europe, starting in Arabia. The prophet Muhammad had risen among the people there, proclaiming a whole new religion: Islam. Fueled by his prophecies and beliefs, Arabian armies had amassed and were making conquest after conquest throughout North Africa. Syria, Egypt, and Persia had all fallen by the end of the 7th century, and though Muhammad had since died, the armies continued to move north toward the Iberian Peninsula. They had their sights set on Spain.

The descendants of Pepin of Landen continued to inherit more and more power as Mayors of the Palace. By the mid-8th century, they were among the wealthiest and most powerful people in France, perhaps even rivaling the Merovingians, who were still officially on the Frankish throne. Even though Merovingian figureheads bore the crown, it was the descendants of Pepin who wielded most of the Frankish power, and the kingdom had expanded by this time to include most of modern-day France and Germany.

One of the young members of Pepin’s family, who was in line to inherit his father Pepin the Middle’s power, was Charles Martel. Charles was a strong warrior and a born leader, but his father disinherited him in favor of a grandson who was 20 years Charles’s younger. Since Pepin the Middle was on his deathbed when he did this, there was little hope for persuading him to change his mind, and the Frankish nobility was outraged at this. This nobility was generally turbulent at the time, as they had started to lose faith in the Merovingian kings, trusting more and more in the Mayors of the Palace, and with Charles being an adult already, they had known that their lives would be stable should Pepin die. But this hope was destroyed when the six-year-old Theudoald was made Pepin’s heir. The nobility threatened to use Charles as their leader for a revolt against Theudoald and his major ally, Pepin’s first wife, Plectrude. Seeing the danger of this, Plectrude decided to remove the perceived source of the trouble: her stepson, Charles Martel. After his father’s death, he was imprisoned in Cologne and left to rot there so that Plectrude could gain power.

Plectrude’s attempts were all fruitless. Ragenfrid, a Neustrian, pushed Theudoald out of the way and declared himself Mayor of the Palace—a move that was meekly accepted by King Chilperic II. Charles, however, would not go down without a fight. He broke out of prison in 715 and rallied the Austrasians, becoming their hero. When Ragenfrid marched on Charles in an attempt to defeat him, he became the first of many commanders that Charles would brilliantly defeat. Using a tactic of pretending to retreat, only to lure his foe into a devastating ambush, Charles soundly defeated Ragenfrid and took his place as Mayor of the Palace.

But Charles’ battles were not over yet. Even as peace and stability settled in Francia once again, trouble was coming from the south, as the Moors were creeping up from Spain and into southern France. The power of the Umayyad Caliphate expanded all the way from India to Egypt to France. Charles knew that the Caliphate had the power to obliterate the European way of life, not to mention topple him from his newfound position of power.

In 732, a century after the death of Muhammad, an Islamic army devastated the Duchy of Aquitaine in Francia. Charles knew that he would have to put a stop to this before the Caliphate overwhelmed the whole of France. Considering that he would be standing against an empire that could have swallowed up his whole country several times over, it must have been a daunting challenge. But it was one to which the new Mayor of the Palace would rise with tenacity. Inspired by his consistent military victories ever since his first fight against Ragenfrid in 715, his army was ready to follow him anywhere. So, he took them to the gates of death.

* * * *

Charles Martel and his army had been dug in for a week, and still, Abdul Rahman al-Ghafiqi—the Umayyad commander whose army of between 20,000 and 80,000-men loomed just a few miles away—hadn’t made his move.

Charles had not been expecting this. He gazed out in the direction of the Umayyad encampment, knowing that his scouts were out there right at that moment, trying to infiltrate the camp in order to free the slaves and prisoners waiting inside. An October chill hung thick in the air; it was familiar to Charles, but it still made no sense to him that the Umayyads were camping in it instead of attacking Charles’ army in a bid to get to Tours and the warmth of its fortress as quickly as possible. The Umayyads were not used to this temperature, having grown up in the warm sands of the Middle East, unlike Charles’ own native Frankish army. Why was Rahman hesitating? The Frankish soldiers numbered between 15,000 and 80,000 men, and most of them were infantry; they should, by all means, be no match for Rahman’s army. It was more than twice the size and was composed of practically unbeatable horsemen. Islamic cavalries were mounted on Arabian horses that were faster, tougher, and more agile than anything the Franks had ever seen before.

Yet, still, Rahman hesitated, as he had been hesitating for a full week. The truth was that he had not been expecting to meet any form of real resistance as he swept through Aquitaine toward the rest of Francia. His campaign in Francia had been a piece of cake; the Duke of Aquitaine didn’t stand a chance against him, and even though Charles had a reputation for being an able commander, Rahman didn’t expect him to have an army so large and seasoned. For years, Charles had been preparing for this threat, training a professional army instead of dragging raw recruits from the farms and stuffing any old weapon into their hands. These men—particularly the infantry—were well-equipped veterans. Rahman had been surprised when he’d come across them waiting for his arrival between Tours and Poitiers; they were well dug in at a defensible position, with trees and an uphill approach complicating any cavalry attack.

But as the days passed and the northern winter began to creep in over the hills, Rahman was faced with a threat far more serious than the Franks. The cold was deadly, and his men were starting to succumb to it already. He knew he had to get Charles’ army out of the way and capture another fortress before winter came, or he would risk losing all the ground he had gained that summer.

On October 10th, 732, Abdul Rahman’s army attacked at last. By this time, Charles’ infantry was ready for them. When those fast horses came pouring up over the hills, ridden by men with the fire of their faith behind their singing arrows, the Franks held firm, repelling the first advance. They threw back the second as well, and the third and the fourth. Wave after wave of cavalrymen pounded into the waiting ranks of the Frankish infantry, and the line buckled and broke in places, but whenever one Frank fell, there was always another ready to fearlessly take his place. At one point, the Umayyads managed to break all the way through to Charles Martel himself. But his loyal bodyguards rallied around their leader, and this advance, too, was repulsed.

Back in the Umayyad camp, chaos reigned; Charles’ scouts had set the prisoners free, and they were more than ready to plunder their enemies and destroy their camp. Hearing reports of this, Rahman broke off a section of the army and rode back toward the camp. This action sowed panic among his soldiers still in the midst of battle. Why was their leader retreating? Confusion slowed their fighting, and at last, with the Franks pressing home their advantage, the Umayyads lost their nerve. They swung their horses around and rode away as fast as they could.

Instead of pursuing his enemies, Charles ordered his army to stand firm, expecting a second attack as soon as Rahman could regroup his army. But Rahman was unused to defeat, and it frightened him. He continued to retreat all the way back to the Iberian Peninsula, and Francia had been saved.

* * * *

This great victory earned Charles his surname, Martel, meaning “the Hammer.” While historians debate the significance of the Frankish victory at Tours, it was a turning point in Islamic expansion, and the power of the Umayyad Caliphate continued to decline. It would appear that Charles’ victory changed history forever. Europe would have been a very different place even to this day had Rahman overwhelmed the Frankish army and the whole of Western Christendom had fallen.

The victory at Tours also boosted Charles’ power within Francia itself. It was the last straw for the nobility, who had completely lost faith in the Merovingian kings and now firmly believed in Charles as their hero and ruler. In 751, the Frankish king, Childeric III, was deposed by Pope Zachary; in his place, Charles’ son, Pepin the Short, was crowned King of the Franks. His coronation ushered in the Carolingian dynasty and an era of great Frankish power—a power that would reach its peak not as a kingdom but as a new Roman Empire, the Holy Roman Empire.

Chapter 3 – Father of Europe

Illustration I: An equestrian statue of Charlemagne, which stands today in St. Peter’s Basilica, the historic venue for the coronation of emperors

When Pepin the Short became the first Carolingian king, his son—named Charles after his illustrious grandfather—was nine years old. Little did Pepin know that his young son would someday surpass both Pepin and Charles Martel in his achievements, not only on the battlefield but also in culture.

The young Charles appears to have been something of a bookish little boy. He was well-read, enjoying literature and learning several languages as a youngster; he also had a keen interest in arts and music. Nonetheless, Charles was an ambitious young man, and there was a strong rivalry between him and his younger brother, Carloman. Being the eldest, Charles was taken on campaigns with his father Pepin, and by the time he reached his mid-twenties, he was a seasoned young soldier and military commander.

Carloman I was only 17—and Charles 26—when Pepin died in 768. His kingship, as was Frankish tradition, was passed equally to both of his sons; however, their rivalry continued, and Charles proved himself once again to be the more able commander and the stronger ruler. These characteristics angered his brother, who felt that he was permanently in Charles’ shadow, but they also earned Charles the name that is written down in history: Charles the Great, or Charlemagne.

Despite their difficult relationship, Charlemagne and Carloman succeeded in ruling jointly for several years. Both of them found wives; Carloman obeyed his deceased father’s orders and found a nice Frankish girl named Gerberga. Charlemagne, on the other hand, would have to be different. Seeking an alliance with the nearby Kingdom of the Lombards to increase his power and that of Francia, Charlemagne married the princess of the Lombards, Desiderata. The pope at the time, Stephen III, was greatly angered by this and put pressure on Charlemagne to marry a Frank instead, as the Lombards had long been enemies of the papal lands. However, he had little to fear. Charlemagne repudiated his marriage to Desiderata in 771 after less than a year of matrimony, causing outrage in the Lombard Kingdom, so much so that King Desiderius, Desiderata’s father, sought an alliance with Carloman to overthrow his brother. Carloman was only too happy to comply, and civil war was imminent in Francia, but their plans were thwarted in December 771 by Carloman’s untimely death from natural causes.

Desiderius, however, was not deterred from his plan. He was going to overthrow Charlemagne for spurning his daughter—and if papal lands had to fall in the process, then so be it.

In 772, Adrian I became pope, and with his succession came a demand for King Desiderius. Desiderius had promised to return some cities of the Exarchate of Ravenna—a lordship in Italy that had ended at the hands of the Lombards in 751—to papal control when he became king, but he had not upheld his promise. Stephen III had seemed to be too cautious to pursue this. Adrian I, on the other hand, was determined to get those cities back. His demands were not met kindly, though. Instead of returning the cities as promised, Desiderius launched a full-scale invasion of the pope’s lands on the Adriatic coast.

The pope was all but helpless in the face of the ravaging Lombards. He turned once again to the papacy’s old ally, Francia, for help. Papal ambassadors set out to meet Charlemagne with a plea for protection against the Lombards; Lombard ambassadors did the same, but they denied all of the pope’s charges. Charlemagne met with them at Thionville in the winter of 772/773 and declared his support for the pope.

This action precipitated the beginning of a mighty empire—and a mighty alliance between the Frankish king and the pope in Rome. Charlemagne rallied his army and rode to meet the Lombards, protecting the Church the way that his grandfather Charles Martel had done years ago at Tours. He drove the Lombards all the way back into their country and kept driving them until the Kingdom of the Lombards was finally overwhelmed. Adrian I was overjoyed with gratitude at the protection that Charlemagne had given him and decided to honor the Frankish king. As for Charlemagne, instead of simply assimilating the Lombard Kingdom into Francia, he became known as the King of Francia and the Lombards. His sights were not set on simply expanding his kingdom.

He was aiming for an empire.

* * * *

Christmas Day, 800. St. Peter’s Basilica—known today as Old St. Peter’s Basilica to distinguish it from the current basilica that stands in the same location—was decked out in all of its splendor for the special occasion. Glittering mosaics decorated the walls and floor; the towering, empty hall was filled with pure winter sunlight, sparkling on the priceless artworks and intricate architecture that made the basilica one of the most prominent in Rome.

In the 26 years since his victory over the Lombards, Charlemagne had proven himself to be one of the pope’s key allies. He had spent much of his time fighting Moors and Saracens—medieval terms for various Muslim peoples—in Spain and the Mediterranean; these archenemies of the Roman Catholic Church were strongly repulsed by Charlemagne and his troops. In Saxony (part of modern-day Germany), Charlemagne gained a reputation for being a ruthless invader; he attacked the native Germanic tribes and ordered them to convert to Catholic Christianity from their pagan faith or be put to death. Many of the Saxons refused to convert and ended up being killed, most notably in the Massacre of Verden, in which 4,500 Saxons were brutally murdered for being pagans. Despite fighting hard against Charlemagne and his ruthlessness, the Saxons never stood a chance against his massive army, and they were utterly subdued by the beginning of the 9th century. Saxony became nothing more than a province of Francia, and a Roman Catholic one at that, expanding the power of the Church and, therefore, the pope.

By 800, Charlemagne had proven himself to be one of the strongest leaders and military commanders in Europe. He had not forgotten his childhood love of the arts, either; he encouraged music, art, and literature, even helping to form Carolingian minuscule, a precursor of the modern alphabet. He was so deeply involved in culture that his reign became known as part of the Carolingian Renaissance.

All of these things had endeared him greatly to Pope Adrian I and, after his death, his successor Leo III, who had only one great rival left: The Byzantine Empire. And with a woman on the throne of Constantinople—Empress Regent Irene of Athens—the Byzantine Empire was seen as being in a weakened state. The time was right for the rise of a new empire, a rival for Constantinople, and a unification of Europe—and Leo was going to make it happen on the most blessed day of the Church’s calendar: Christmas.

Christmas Mass had just been delivered at St. Peter’s, and the atmosphere inside the basilica was electric. Medieval Europe celebrated Christmas with just as much enthusiasm—if not more—as the modern world; there was singing and feasting, and even the normally solemn and ceremonious Mass had a spirit of celebration to it. After years of turbulence throughout Europe, the Church was celebrating not only the birth of Christ but also a time of prosperity and stability. Charlemagne, of course, was there. Although his home was at his palace in Aachen, he dutifully celebrated religious holidays with his papal ally in Rome.

After Mass, Charlemagne rose from his place among his family in the basilica. He approached the gorgeous altar, decorated with mosaics, some of them depicting events from the first Christmas itself, such as the adoration of the Magi. Kneeling down in the same attitude as the wise men on the mosaic, Charlemagne folded his hands in prayer.

Pope Leo III saw his chance. He sprang up, holding a glittering golden crown, and placed it on Charlemagne’s head. “To Charles Augustus!” he cried out, his voice resonant in the great basilica. “Crowned by God, the great and pacific emperor of the Romans, life, and victory!”

His cry rang out three more times. Charlemagne, who possibly had no idea of Pope Leo III’s plans, could only kneel there in shock as the people in the basilica joined the pope in his final cry. Historians debate whether Charlemagne had been in on the pope’s plans to crown him emperor; either way, he readily accepted his new title, even though his coronation was somewhat unusual. So did the rest of his subjects, who saw Charlemagne as a figurehead of power, prosperity, and stability.

For Charlemagne, the coronation was one step closer to his ultimate goal—a unified Europe, ruled under his strong hand. And the name Holy Roman Empire had a nice ring to it.

Chapter 4 – A Formal Emperor

The rest of Charlemagne’s rule only saw him and the new empire expand and grow in power and importance. Charlemagne was ruthless and sometimes cruel—as was evident in his actions in Saxony—but he was an extremely capable ruler in many ways, and this would earn him the historical nickname of the “Father of Europe.”

Having ruled as the King of the Franks for nearly 46 years, and as the Holy Roman Emperor for about 13 years, Charlemagne died in January 814 at the age of 71. Despite the fact that he had established himself as one of the most important rulers of his time, he died depressed and dissatisfied; he had wanted to achieve and conquer even more. His empire, known as the Carolingian Empire, was home to as many as twenty million people. It stretched across much of Europe, encompassing modern-day France, Germany, Belgium, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Austria, Slovenia, and parts of Italy, among others.

Upon Charlemagne’s death, his power passed on to his son, Louis the Pious. Louis had been king of Aquitaine for some time, and Charlemagne had been grooming him as his only successor ever since the death of his other legitimate son, Carloman; Louis had been co-emperor with his father since 813. Louis held on to his father’s power until his death in 840, whereupon the empire was divided up among his three sons. The rivalry between the three brothers proved too great; they disputed which one of them was emperor, with none of them ever being formally crowned, and the empire fell apart less than a century after the death of Charlemagne.

The end of the Carolingian Empire, however, would not prove to be the end of the new Western Roman Empire. Indeed, the new empire was only just beginning to experience a rise to prominence that would last for a millennium.

* * * *

Louis the Child was the last king of the Carolingian dynasty to rule in East Francia, dying in 911. After the Carolingian Empire crumbled to pieces after the deposition of its last great ruler, Charles the Fat, in 887, the Carolingian family maintained control over the heart of the empire: Francia. However, Francia by this point had been split permanently into West Francia (France) and East Francia (Germany). They continued to reign as kings of the Franks, albeit with diminished power compared to the might that had been wielded by their ancestor Charlemagne.

Charles the Fat had been deposed in a coup led by his nephew, Arnulf of Carinthia, a year before his death. Historically considered to be a far inferior ruler to his deposed uncle, Arnulf wasn’t king for very long. He undid the unification that Charles the Fat had worked so hard to achieve and ruled for twelve years, dying in 899 and leaving the throne to his little boy. Louis the Child was only six years old when he became the king of the East Franks, and East Francia suffered even more under his “rule”; in fact, little Louis’ role was almost entirely symbolic. Not only was he too young to rule without a regency, but he was also a sickly child, and East Francia found itself in the hands of squabbling nobles who cared more about grabbing power for themselves than defending East Francia from the Magyars (Hungarian invaders). Louis died in 911 at the age of seventeen, just before he was able to actually take over the kingdom. In his place, a duke—Conrad of Franconia—was elected as king. His coronation was the official end of the Carolingian dynasty’s rule of East Francia, and he is known today as Conrad I, King of Germany. He spent most of his reign trying to defend the power of the kingdom against the local dukes, who were ready to grab control from his tenuous grasp. One of the most dangerous of these dukes was Henry of Saxony, but Conrad managed to make peace with him during his reign. Henry proved himself to be a strong leader in Conrad’s eyes to such an extent that when Conrad died in 918, he left his title to Henry instead of to his younger brother, Eberhard. Conrad might not have been friends with Henry, but he recognized his capability and believed him to be the only one able to defend the crown against the rest of the dukes.

Henry, also known as Henry the Fowler, proved to be as capable a king as he had been a duke. He managed to make peace with the marauding Magyars, something Conrad had not been able to achieve, and protected the country well until his death in 936. His son, Otto I, was elected king in his place.

At this point, the empire over which Charlemagne had presided was a piece of history. Since the death of Charles the Fat, the pope had continued to crown so-called “emperors,” but they controlled only small areas of Italy and had comparable power to a duke or a minor king. Yet all of that was about to change. Henry had no desire for the imperial crown, but his son and successor was a very different man.

And it would all start with a beautiful woman.

* * * *

Adelaide of Burgundy was only twenty years old, but already she’d led a life of the type of adventure normally found in novels instead of history. As a Burgundian princess, she was married off to Lothair II, the nominal king of Italy, at only fifteen, becoming a teenage queen. The union was brief and unproductive; only three years later, in 950, Lothair was poisoned by the ambitious Berengar II of Ivrea.

Berengar cared for little other than grabbing power for himself. Ever since he was a young man, Berengar had been leading revolts against his uncle, King Hugh of Italy; in fact, Hugh had been ready to attack and kill Berengar when his son, Lothair II, had warned the young rebel of the plot. Berengar fled to the court of Otto I, the king of Germany, who didn’t want to get involved in the Italian conflict but nonetheless allowed Berengar to return to Italy with some mercenaries for backup. There, Berengar likely poisoned Lothair—who was now king —even though the young man had helped him to escape Hugh’s wrath. Usurping Lothair’s throne, Berengar, known as Berengar II of Italy at this point, wanted to loot more than just the royal treasury but the royal bedchambers as well. He tried to force Lothair’s widow, the young and beautiful Adelaide, to wed his son. Adelaide refused. She was outraged by Berengar’s betrayal, especially as Lothair had left the crown of Italy to her. Berengar imprisoned her for her stubbornness, and the feisty young queen refused to languish in jail. With the help of her friend, a priest, she tunneled her way out of the prison and escaped to Canossa Castle near Reggio, where the bishop gave her protection.

This protection wasn’t enough. Berengar had realized that he’d underestimated this fearless young lady; she was no damsel in distress, ready to roll over and submit to the usurper, but a wrathful monarch who would not capitulate.

Adelaide, however, soon recognized that the throne might have been rightfully hers, but the army wasn’t. Berengar besieged Canossa, ready to cut down anyone who dared to stand in his way in order to take back the queen. She knew she needed backup, and she also knew that Otto I, King of Germany, had recently lost the English princess he’d taken as a wife. A union between Italy and Germany could only be of benefit to both kingdoms, and so, Adelaide reached out to Otto with a deal: her salvation from Berengar II for her hand in marriage.

By this time, it was 951, and Otto had been king for fifteen years. His time on the throne had not been without opposition; in fact, he’ had to crush revolts from numerous dukes as well as his younger brother and half-brother. His half-brother, Thankmar, had been killed in battle; his younger brother, Henry, had tried to kill Otto twice, and twice, Otto had forgiven him, finally making an ally out of him. He had also expanded his kingdom to the east and made a tributary out of the Prince of Bohemia. All of these military successes made him one of the most respected kings in Europe at the time, and it only made sense for Adelaide to reach out to him.

When called upon by one of the most important—and intriguing—women in the known world, Otto responded at once. He sallied forth out of Germany with a respectable army, conquered Berengar II, and swept Adelaide off to become his new queen. This victory left Otto with the titles of King of Germany and King of the Lombards, echoing Charlemagne’s title as King of the Franks and Lombards.

Despite Berengar’s harsh treatment of Adelaide, Otto, as was his wont, attempted to extend mercy to the usurper. He allowed him to remain the king of Italy provided that he behaved as a vassal. Berengar, however, had no intention of submitting. He stayed quietly in Italy for the next ten years—while Otto and Adelaide were enjoying a successful marriage, with Adelaide giving birth to several of Otto’s children—until suddenly, in 961, launching an invasion on the Papal States. By this time, Otto was one of the most powerful men in Europe. He had crushed a revolt by his oldest son (whose mother was Otto’s first wife, Edith of England) and put an end to all Magyar invasions of East Francia with a resounding victory against them in 955. Reminiscent of Pope Adrian I’s appeal to Charlemagne, Pope John XII turned to Otto for help, and this time, Otto would not show Berengar the same mercy. As he’d done for Adelaide, Otto came charging over the Alps and threw Berengar into prison once and for all.

In his gratitude, Pope John XII crowned Otto the new Holy Roman Emperor—the first since Charles the Fat’s death in 888 to have any real imperial authority. A formal treaty known as the Privilegium Ottonianum (also known as the Diploma Ottonianum) was drawn up to regulate the relationship between the pope and the Holy Roman emperor, and thus, Otto became the first formal Holy Roman Emperor.

But Otto’s troubles wouldn’t end with Pope John. In fact, they were just beginning.

Chapter 5 – The Caligula of Christianity

There’s a reason why historians have nicknamed Pope John XII as the “Caligula of Christianity.”

John was only 18 years old (although his birth year is disputed, so it is possible he could have been closer to 25) when he became the pope, thanks in no small part to the political puppeteer that was his father, Alberic II of Spoleto. Alberic had overthrown his own mother in order to seize power in Rome; he had been the de facto ruler of Rome himself and forced Roman nobles to promise to make John his successor on his deathbed (this despite the fact that it was then, and is now, uncertain which of Alberic’s many concubines and mistresses were actually John’s mother; it is also possible that his mother could have been Alberic’s stepsister). In doing so, he handed his teenage son all the power in Rome on a silver platter, which ended about as well as could be expected.

Famed for his terrible behavior, John appeared to regard his new position as the leader of the Western Church with little ambition for any form of leadership. Instead, he seemed to have a checklist of all seven deadly sins—and he appeared determined to do each of them justice. He drank, cursed, fornicated, raped his sisters and niece, called on pagan gods, refused to make the sign of the cross, defiled holy sites, and when anyone dared accuse him of his debauchery, he would have then blinded (or, alternatively, castrated) and then murdered. In fact, John was pretty much the exact opposite of what a pope was supposed to be, and so when he crowned Otto as Holy Roman Emperor, it’s unlikely that Otto felt much of that supposed holiness. Otto was a wise and powerful ruler who was nearly fifty at this point; he had fought hard to defend his kingdom throughout his rule, and it’s more than likely that he actually despised John and only came to his aid because of John’s tempting offer of making him emperor. In fact, while Otto was in Rome receiving the title, he warned John against his terrible ways. John, naturally, didn’t listen to a word.

John likely knew that Otto didn't like him when he found out that Berengar II was seizing some of his lands. However, John was not just a murderer and a rapist—he was a liar and a traitor too, and as soon as Otto had returned to Germany and started to act as emperor, John went back on his word. He recanted the promises he had made in the Privilegium and turned, instead, to the most unlikely ally of them all—Berengar’s son, Adalbert. Promising to make him emperor in Otto’s place, he conspired with the son of his former enemy to get rid of Otto.

Less than a year after being crowned as emperor, Otto had to deal with a revolt against him. By this time, rebellions were nothing new to him—he had faced far more intimidating foes than the soft-bellied young pope. He marched back to Rome, crushed all rebel opposition, caused the panicked John to turn tail and flee, and summoned a synod of bishops to put John on trial for his many sins. John refused to appear, but the bishops were unfazed. Delighted to finally get rid of this menace, they deposed John and made Leo VIII pope in his stead. Satisfied that he’d reestablished peace in Rome, Otto returned home to Germany. But while the cat was away, the most sinful of all the mice came out to play. Now that the frightening Otto had his back turned, John came back to Rome and started torturing the bishops that had given his title to Leo. In terror, Leo had no choice but to flee, begging Otto to come back and help.

Otto had had enough. Like Berengar, John had now pushed him to his limits, and he returned to Rome, ready to put a sword in John’s treacherous guts. In the end, however, it was not his betrayal that would catch up to John; it was his adultery. He was murdered by an angry husband in 964 after being caught in bed with his wife. In the words of Otto’s historian, the devil himself had come for his most faithful servant.

* * * *

Otto would spend several years in Rome, putting Leo back into his rightful position as pope and soothing the feathers that John had so successfully ruffled during his papacy. This move was a much-needed act of diplomacy; after all, John had been the one who had made Otto the emperor, and it would have been easy for the Church to denounce that decision as it had denounced all of John’s actions. However, Otto came to be viewed as the savior of the Church, and he proved himself to be an able protector of it. Peace and prosperity characterized the next nine years of his reign.

By 967, on Christmas Day—perhaps echoing the coronation of Charlemagne almost two hundred years earlier—Otto knew that he was getting old and also that the Holy Roman Empire was in its very infancy. To ensure its stability, he crowned his son, Otto II, as co-emperor. When Otto I died in 973, he left a far more united Europe than the one into which he had been born. Otto II became sole emperor in his father’s place, and Otto I was laid to rest beside his first wife, Edith. The queen he’d rescued from Canossa, Adelaide, had survived him.

One of Otto I’s last attempts to unify Europe was his negotiations with the Byzantine Empire. Historically an enemy of Western Europe, the Byzantine Empire respected Otto I’s power and success as a leader and formed an alliance with him. Seeking to cement the alliance, Otto sent the Bishop of Cologne to ask the Byzantine Emperor, John I Tzimiskes, for his daughter’s hand in marriage to Otto II. Tzimiskes responded by sending his niece, Theophanu. Although she was not the princess that Otto I had been hoping for, he wisely decided not to press the issue, and she was married to Otto II in 972, becoming Holy Roman Empress. Shortly after their wedding, Otto I died.

Theophanu did not get along with Adelaide. Adelaide saw her as a foreigner who did strange things, like bath every single day and use a fork (an invention which had not yet made it to Western Europe). There was a tense rivalry between the two of them, possibly aided by Adelaide’s awkward tendency to spend so much money on charity that she seriously endangered the imperial coffers.

Otto II faced much the same beginning to his reign as his father had. His cousin, aptly named Henry the Quarrelsome, also known as Henry II, Duke of Bavaria, led a revolt against him in southern Germany; around the same time, the king of France invaded Lorraine. While Otto succeeded in pushing back both of these attacks, he would not enjoy the same military successes that his father had during the rest of his brief reign. However, he had a reputation for generosity, particularly to the Church—something he probably learned from his mother, Adelaide.

Despite Otto’s support, however, the papacy was experiencing some difficulties of its own. Pope Benedict VI had been killed and usurped by a dangerous antipope, Boniface VII. Seeking none of the papal duties and all of its luxuries, Boniface plundered the Church for all that Adelaide and her son had given it, causing chaos in Rome until Otto came to depose him and elected Benedict VII as pope in his stead in 974. Benedict, however, only survived until 983; Otto had to return to Rome that year to place Pope John XIV on the throne, but his repeated trips to Italy proved costly in two ways. Firstly, his absence from Germany encouraged uprisings on its eastern border, and secondly, while in Rome, Otto contracted malaria. It is deadly even now, but in that era, it was even deadlier. On December 7th, 983, Otto II died in his palace.

He left as his heir his three-year-old son, Otto III, and the still infantile Holy Roman Empire teetered on the brink of being ripped apart by a squabbling regency. In fact, the Holy Roman Empire may have ended there once more if it was not for a foreigner who ate with a fork: Theophanu of the Byzantine Empire.

Chapter 6 – Antipope

Three-year-old Otto III was the obvious successor to the title of Holy Roman Emperor after his father’s untimely death, but a regency would have to rule in his stead until he came of age. Perhaps hoping to secure more power to himself, an old enemy of Otto II returned: Henry the Quarrelsome.

Henry was a cousin to Otto II, and he had done his best to depose the former emperor during his reign. He was imprisoned in 977 for his rebelliousness, but when Otto II died, he was freed again. Six years of imprisonment had done little to allay Henry’s appetite for power. In fact, it had made him even more desperate; his former duchy, Bavaria, had been taken from him, and now, he had nothing. Nothing except ambition. And now that the royal family was vulnerable and the entire empire was reeling from the sucker punch of the untimely death of Otto II, Henry saw his chance to gain the power he craved. He manipulated an archbishop into proclaiming him as regent, and the nobility, who were unnerved by their emperor’s sudden demise, made no attempt to stop him.

His only opposition came from two women that had already been underestimated: Otto III’s mother and grandmother, Theophanu and Adelaide. Sadly, both of the women were in Italy at the time of Otto II’s passing, while the toddler Otto III was back in Germany. Henry brushed off their protests, swept in, and took over the regency.

The regents of that era had more than one responsibility. Not only were they meant to care for the kingdom, but they were also supposed to act as guardians for the young heirs, guiding and raising them so that they could take their rightful place once they were old enough. Henry, however, had no intention of helping Otto to grow into the next emperor. Instead, he wanted that power for himself. He campaigned among dukes, archbishops, and other powerful men in Germany, urging them to reject Otto III and swear allegiance to him instead. Franconian nobility, however, stood against him with such strong resistance that Henry eventually believed that civil war was imminent. When Theophanu and Adelaide returned from Italy and started to threaten battle against Henry, he knew he was finally defeated. He surrendered in 985 and was returned to his position as Duke of Bavaria as a reward for making the wise choice of surrender.

Otto III, now a five-year-old boy, was returned to the care of his mother and grandmother, who took over the regency in Henry’s stead. Neither of these women aimed at taking Otto’s title from him, but both were capable and undeniably powerful. Adelaide had been quietly behind the scenes for three generations of emperors and probably knew more about running an empire than most noblemen at the time; Theophanu, although she was still a little disgusted by the barbaric ways of the Western Roman Empire compared to the Byzantine Empire, was determined to see her son succeed. The two strong ladies put aside their differences and worked together to govern the empire wisely until Otto III came of age in 994, although Adelaide passed away in 990.

When he was fourteen, Otto took control of the kingdom, and he would prove to be a different type of emperor than his father or grandfather—yet he was, nonetheless, capable. Otto was strongly influenced by the more extravagant and educated ways of his Byzantine mother, and she had endowed him with a sense of divine purpose. He was more of a visionary than his ancestors had been, sharing Charlemagne’s goal of a unified Christian Europe. As a result, when he was just fifteen, he crossed the Alps to Rome with his young friend, Bruno of Carinthia. His goal was to crown the new pope and gain his own crown as emperor.

Bruno was Otto’s chaplain in the castle. Although Otto’s senior by eight years, he was still a very young man, and the two of them were firm friends. Otto didn’t have a brother; Bruno was likely the next best thing, his confidante and even adviser in many ways, helped by the fact that they were cousins by blood. And so, when Pope John XV died in 996 and the Romans turned to Otto to suggest a candidate for the next pope, the young king had only one person in mind.

That was how Bruno—a German and a lowly chaplain—found himself being consecrated on May 3rd, 996. Otto’s suggestion had been fairly well received by most of the Romans; Bruno was well educated and had a good reputation despite the fact that he wasn’t a Roman himself. He was consecrated as Pope Gregory V, and one of his first acts as pope was to pay back his young friend’s favor by crowning Otto III as the Holy Roman Emperor, just like his father and his father before him.

Now bearing the same title as his ancestors, Otto returned to Germany, safe in the knowledge that he had a loyal and powerful friend now in Rome. But Gregory was not powerful enough to be invincible. Indeed, a rebellion was about to put him to flight.

* * * *

When Archbishop John Philagathus first laid eyes on Otto III, he could have never imagined that the day would come when he would be driven through the streets of Rome on a lowly donkey, with shouts of anger and derision pursuing him through the city.

John had once been one of the closest friends of the royal family. Now, at Otto’s decree, he had been stripped of everything—his titles, his power, even his episcopal robes, and, as a final insult, his sight. John’s eyes had been viciously cut out; there were just empty, bloodied sockets where they used to be, and he clung to the donkey’s coarse mane, unable to see where the panicking beast was going on its careening flight through the city over which John had once ruled. John’s ears and nose had been cut off, and his clothes ripped from his body. He no longer looked like an archbishop—in fact, he barely even looked like a man, and the crowds lining the streets to watch were deriding him as if he was a demon.

All of this was being done to John by order of Otto III, which would have felt like a betrayal considering that John was Otto’s godfather, except that John had been the one doing the betraying. Having first met baby Otto at his christening, John had established himself as a good friend of the royal family, being particularly close to Theophanu. She had secured titles and power for John, and he had recently returned from a trip to the Byzantine Empire to find Otto a wife from the east. However, upon his return to Rome, John quickly fell under the influence of a rebellious noble named Crescentius the Younger. Crescentius and a faction of other Romans objected to the fact that the new Pope Gregory was a German instead of a Roman. They had been hoping for one of their kinsfolk to ascend to the papal throne because having someone like that on the throne would make it easier for them to manipulate him, and Gregory had all kinds of funny, foreign ideas that they didn’t like. Tempted by the prospect of being the most powerful leader in Christendom, John allowed himself to be crowned antipope, and his followers became so rowdy that Gregory had no choice but to leave his throne behind and flee.

This did not sit well with Otto. He was determined to prove that, young though he was, he was not going to be seen as inferior to his father or grandfather. While Gregory held a synod at Pavia in 997, Otto was preparing for war. Mustering an army, he charged into Rome. John knew he didn’t stand a chance against the imperial army and fled, but it wasn’t long before the emperor caught up with him. And when he did, he made an example out of him—except that his desire to show his subjects that he was not to be trifled with got significantly out of hand.

Now, John had not only been deposed but cruelly tortured and mutilated as well. Blind, disfigured, and terrified, he clung to the galloping donkey, knowing that death likely awaited him and perhaps hoping that Otto would get on with it and execute him instead of leaving him to suffer. In fact, Otto and Gregory likely would have strung John up to die—just as they had done with Crescentius once they caught up with him—if Saint Nilus the Younger hadn’t stepped in. The gentle-natured abbot chastised Otto and Gregory for their cruelty, demanding that John be allowed to live out the rest of his days in peace. Humbled by Nilus’ words, the young men allowed John to be sent to a monastery in Germany, where he lived peacefully until his death several years later.

* * * *

Despite his appalling treatment of John, Otto III proved to be a dedicated emperor. Like his father and grandfather, he was determined to rule well and threw himself into governing a unified empire.

Gregory only remained pope for two more years after the debacle with John; after his death in 999, Otto replaced him with Sylvester II. Troubled by the loss of his friend and ally, Otto decided to take a pilgrimage to the tomb of Charlemagne, with whom he shared many goals. Charlemagne had likely been the subject of many a bedtime story when he was a child, and now, he had become Otto’s hero and inspiration. The tomb was opened for him, and Otto was allowed to go right up to Charlemagne’s body, which was how it had been in life—seated upon a throne.

The sight of his deceased ancestor seems to have inspired Otto once again. He returned to Rome and officially made it the capital of his empire, which was not well received by the Romans; they laid siege to him inside his palace there, and Otto was forced to turn to the Duke of Bavaria for help. Before reinforcements could arrive, however, Otto would die in a manner that eerily echoed the premature demise of his father. Smallpox took him on January 23rd, 1002, robbing the empire once again of a capable ruler that never had the chance to blossom to his full potential.

The Duke of Bavaria that was coming to Otto’s aid was Henry IV, the son of Henry the Quarrelsome. Henry the Quarrelsome had passed away in 995, leaving Bavaria to his son, and Henry IV had now finally inherited the title. Henry had had a difficult upbringing, spending much of his childhood in exile thanks to his father’s rebellious ways. Instead of becoming a rebel like his father, though, Henry had turned to the Church instead. Otto II encouraged Henry to pursue a career in the Church so that he would not be a threat to Otto III’s reign, but Henry, while maintaining a keen interest in theology, had chosen to become duke in his father’s place instead. However, he never troubled Otto III, instead being one of his strongest allies.

When Otto III died, he left behind no heir and no instructions on what should be done in the event of his death. He was only 21 years old; he had not been expecting to pass away so quickly, and the empire threatened to dissolve into chaos. Theophanu and Adelaide had died in 990/991 and 999, respectively, so there would be no strong women to rescue the kingdom now. Knowing that he was a legitimate heir because of his close relation to Otto, Henry saw his chance. He defeated significant opposition and succeeded in anointing himself king of Germany shortly after Otto’s death. Despite strong resistance from John Crescentius—a powerful noble in Rome and a relative of the same Crescentius that had crowned the last antipope—Henry also managed to remove yet another antipope and reinstall Pope Benedict VIII in his rightful place. Like many popes before him, Benedict, in gratitude, crowned Henry as the Holy Roman Emperor, becoming Henry II.

Henry would prove to have inherited at least some of his father’s controversy and propensity for fighting. Throughout his reign, he continued a long and bloody feud with Poland, eventually allying with pagans in order to stand against the Poles, even though they were Christian. This was in sharp contrast to the Ottos, all of whom had visions of the Holy Roman Empire as being united in Christianity, and this stance made Henry an unpopular emperor. Still, Henry maintained the interest he’d had in the Church as a young man, and throughout his reign, he established monasteries and bishoprics as well as attended synods. This would eventually lead to his canonization in 1147, more than a century after his death.

After a long and somewhat turbulent reign, Henry II died in 1024. Despite the fact that he had been married to Cunigunde, who would also later become a saint, since 999, he was childless. His death would mark the end of the Ottonian dynasty.

Chapter 7 – The Walk to Canossa

Illustration II: A 19th-century painting depicts Henry IV at the gates of Canossa. The disapproving Pope is visible in the background.

Henry IV, Holy Roman Emperor, had grown up in full splendor as the well-groomed heir of Henry III. From the moment that he was born, it was known that he was going to be one of the most powerful men in the world one day, and Henry had been given the very best of everything—perhaps a little too much so. The young man grew up in extravagance, with everything he could want. He was accustomed to all the comforts that his wealth and power could provide and to wearing the most magnificent royal trappings of the era: robes and crowns and silk and ceremonial garb that oozed with luxury and richness.

And now, at the gates of Canossa, he was barefoot in the snow, a hair shirt whipped by the wind around his wasted frame, his trappings gone, his face turned in penitence to the ground.

Henry’s rich robes had not been taken from him. Instead, he had removed them by choice.

Henry couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been king. Born in 1050, he lost his father, Holy Roman Emperor and King of Germany Henry III, when he was only six years old. The regency fell, originally, to his mother, Agnes of Poitou, but when Henry was twelve, a group of squabbling bishops took him from Agnes and assumed the regency and guardianship of the underaged king. For four years, they fought over the pickings of the empire, and the frustrated young Henry could do nothing but watch. When he came of age and took the throne in 1066, he had had enough of bishops. Exercising his traditional right to appoint Church leaders as king and emperor, he ousted the bishops that had abused him and started approving the bishops that he preferred.

This ruffled powerful feathers in Rome. The pope at the time, Alexander II, had gotten used to six years of leniency from Germany as the divided regency was far more concerned with grabbing individual power than actually governing the empire. His successor was more vociferous in his opposition to Henry's behavior. Crowned in 1073, Pope Gregory VII started to protest that secular rulers couldn’t appoint ecclesiastical positions—even though generations of kings had been doing the same as Henry. Annoyed by yet another Church leader rising up to oppose him, the young emperor chose to ignore him. In fact, Henry committed the ultimate insult: instead of referring to him as the name that he’d taken when he became pope, Henry called Gregory by his given name, Hildebrand. At the time, this was seen to be absolutely outrageous.

In 1075, Henry appointed an archbishop of Milan against Gregory’s wishes, and Gregory saw this as an unforgivable intrusion on papal authority. When Gregory challenged Henry’s actions, the emperor decided that he’d had enough. He summoned a synod of German bishops—most of them owed all of their power, of course, to Henry—and declared Pope Gregory to be deposed.

Previous generations of emperors had exerted considerable power over the papacy. Popes such as John XII and the antipope John XVI had learned the hard way that angering the Holy Roman Emperor was bound to end badly; others had been appointed by emperors, such as Otto III’s cousin, Bruno of Carinthia. But times had since changed. The great Ottonian dynasty was history now; the Salian dynasty was now in charge of the Holy Roman Empire, and the papacy had grown in wealth, might, and power. Gregory had been occupying powerful positions in the Church ever since Henry was just a little boy, and he was a far more shrewd and powerful ruler than the young king.

Henry, however, believed that imperial power should be restored to its former glory, and he was determined to be the one to restore it and once more subjugate the papacy to the whim of the emperor. But Gregory was no pushover. He was outraged by the audacity of the emperor and retaliated to his deposition by excommunicating Henry from the Church.

The excommunication had significant effects on Henry’s power and even on his subjects’ perception of his legitimacy as king. In that time, the secular government was closely intertwined with the Church, and if a ruler was not recognized by the Church, he likely would not be recognized by anyone. Rebellions began to spring up throughout Henry’s domain, and an anti-king, Duke Rudolf of Swabia, was crowned. Violence and chaos threatened to overwhelm the kingdom, and Gregory’s supporters urged him to travel to Augsburg and meet with the emperor there to show him who was boss. Henry, hearing that the pope and his retinue were heading toward Germany, charged to meet him.

That was when Gregory realized that he had angered a man who was young, audacious, insolent, and also in charge of one of the largest armies in Europe. Panicking, the pope decided to retreat to the fortress of Canossa, where he locked himself in, fearing that it would soon be besieged by the emperor in his imperial wrath.

It was the dead of winter when Henry and his company came over the Alps. The passes were snowed in; the advance was practically impossible as Henry, his men, and even his wife and infant had to make their way over the summits of the great mountains. In many places, even their agile horses could not make it through and had to be hobbled and dragged or left behind. Those horses that did survive the dragging were often crippled. Henry, the most powerful man in Europe, had to make most of the crossing barefoot. His wife and baby were bound up in ox hides and dragged along by the men with him.

By the time Henry reached Canossa in January 1077, he was half-starved, half-frozen, and had endured the toughest conditions that the Alpine winter could throw at him. It would seem logical for him to want to lay siege to Canossa at once, and Gregory waited in fear for the fighting to begin.

But Henry did not take up his sword or lance. Instead, he stripped off his armor and donned nothing but a hair shirt. Barefoot and bareheaded, leaving behind his army and his family, the emperor made the last part of his trek to Canossa completely alone.

Watching from the towers of the castle, Gregory VII was expecting a mass of soldiers to come charging up to the gates, armed with battering rams and siege engines. Instead, a lonely figure came trudging over the snow. It was the emperor, and he came up to the gates, asking to be let in. Suspecting a trap, Gregory refused to unlock the gates for Henry IV. But the emperor didn’t give up. He sat down in the snow and waited—for three long days. Neither eating nor drinking, Henry simply waited.

At the end of the three days, Gregory finally relented. He opened the gates, and Henry came in, ragged, unshaven, and half-frozen to death. He fell to his knees before the pope and begged his forgiveness. And the pope, much as he hated to do so, had no choice but to lift the excommunication.

* * * *

It’s still unclear whether Henry’s famous walk to Canossa was an act of true penitence or an outstanding strategic move designed to force Gregory into making peace with him, whether he liked it or not. Either way, the story of his repentance spread like wildfire throughout the realm. The people accepted him once again as their ruler, the anti-king was soundly defeated by 1080, and Henry was, once again, the most powerful man in Europe.

It had been asserted, however, that the papacy was no longer anything more than a series of puppets mastered by the emperors. While Henry would continue to butt heads with the papacy throughout his reign—on occasion even setting up antipopes and once plundering Rome itself—he never did manage to reduce it to the kind of submission that it had shown his predecessors. The resultant conflict between the papacy and the empire would continue long after both Henry and Gregory were gone.

Chapter 8 – The Hohenstaufen Dynasty Begins

Henry IV’s son, Henry V, would end the Investiture Controversy—the conflict between his father and the papacy—once and for all. However, peace-keeping did not become what he was generally known for.

Henry V was not born heir to the throne. His older brother, Conrad, would have inherited Henry IV’s power if it wasn’t for his rebellious streak. Modern-day teenage rebels break curfews or crash cars; nineteen-year-old Conrad attempted to seize the kingdom from his father. He had been only three years old when Henry had taken him along on the frigid Walk to Canossa; perhaps he never fully forgave his father for putting him through that suffering, or perhaps he had been influenced by one of his father’s enemies, particularly Welf II, the Duke of Bavaria. Supported by the papacy and the Bavarian duchy, Conrad was crowned anti-king, but his campaigns were unsuccessful. He eventually lost support and died in 1101, possibly after being poisoned.

Two years before Conrad’s death, his younger brother, Henry V, was crowned King of Germany. Henry IV was aging and sought to establish security for his empire after his death. However, he was still a capable ruler, and he bound his son under oath to not interfere in the empire’s government until Henry IV’s death. But the younger Henry was ambitious, perhaps sharing the same rebellious nature that had caused his brother to crown himself anti-king. In 1104, three years after Conrad’s death, Henry V revolted against his father. His rebellion was far more successful; Henry IV was forced to abdicate and flee. He died in 1106, and Henry V took his throne without contest.

Despite Henry’s tempestuous youth, he would go down in history as the emperor who finally ended the Investiture Controversy. Much of his reign was concerned with negotiations with the pope; he wasn’t quite ready to let go of the cause that had cost his father his pride, but eventually, in 1122, he negotiated peace with Pope Callixtus II. Neither party got exactly what they wanted; instead, a compromise was reached in which the emperor lost his power over the appointment of ecclesiastical positions in Italy and Burgundy but retained much of his authority in Germany itself. All clergymen, however, would still receive their symbols of authority from the pope himself.

Ending the controversy was not the end of Henry’s troubles. Even as imperial power began to slip away from him in Italy, he realized that his long visits to Rome had caused trouble in Germany. While the cat was away, the mice—his nobility—had started to play, and now, the nobles were threatening to sweep Henry’s empire right out from under him.

Chief among these nobles were the Welf and Hohenstaufen families. These two families were among the most powerful in Germany, and with the papacy and the German princes starting to gain more and more power, Henry knew that despite his title as emperor, he was losing strength by the second. In a bid to grow his power and regain the respect of his empire, he headed to Flanders and attempted to invade the area and add it to his empire. Unfortunately for Henry, this brought about a clash with the king of France, Louis VI, who was a powerful figure at the time. Henry was forced to return to Germany with his tail between his legs, where he died childless in 1125 despite having been married for eleven years to Matilda, a princess of England.

The Salian dynasty went to its grave right alongside Henry V. The election of the next king fell to the German nobles and chancellors that had disrespected Henry when he was still alive, and among them was the Duke of Saxony, an old man named Lothair III. While Lothair had rebelled against Henry IV right alongside his son, he had had little respect for Henry V during his reign and had even been deposed briefly. However, he was a rich landowner with friends in high places, most notably being popular with the House of Welf. Despite the fact that the Hohenstaufen family also put forth a promising candidate, Lothair was elected to be the next King of Germany and Holy Roman Emperor. He was crowned in Rome in 1125.

Lothair himself was a fairly mild-mannered fellow, perhaps even a little naive, and certainly vulnerable to manipulation. This was perhaps the quality that the German nobility had found most attractive when electing him—he would be an easy king to push around and control for their own purposes, and he proved to be exactly that. Most of Lothair’s reign was focused on dealing with violent rebellion from the Hohenstaufens at the price of neglecting a golden opportunity to regain power over the papacy when a papal election saw both candidates vying for Lothair’s favor. Lothair, however, was not interested. He had his subordinates deal with the pope while he tried to sort out the quarrelsome Hohenstaufens.

The nobility and the papacy also succeeded in pressuring Lothair to lead an army against the Sicilians. Despite Lothair’s reluctance to lead—and his army’s reluctance to follow in the stifling heat of midsummer—the campaign in 1137 was fairly successful, and Sicilian lands were added to the empire. On the way home, however, Lothair succumbed to natural causes.

During his lifetime, Lothair had appointed an heir, his grandson, Henry the Proud, the son of Lothair’s daughter, Gertrude, and Henry IX, Duke of Bavaria. But the Hohenstaufens had other ideas.

* * * *

Back in 1125, when Henry V had died and his title was being contested by the House of Welf and the Hohenstaufens, the Hohenstaufen candidate had been Frederick II, Duke of Swabia. His staunchest supporter, however, was his younger brother, Conrad.

Conrad was in his thirties at the time, and his ambition was equal only to his loyalty to his fellow Hohenstaufens. He saw his family as the greatest in Germany, and he was determined to see it on the throne. So determined, in fact, that he took up arms against Lothair III and annexed some of his lands when Lothair was in Italy; he was also crowned anti-king, and he had solid support from the German nobility. It was only when he clashed with Lothair in battle that Conrad was finally beaten. He didn’t have access to the vast resources that the king had at his bidding, and so, he was forced to surrender.

When Lothair finally died, however, Conrad saw his chance. He knew that Lothair’s grandson, Henry the Proud, had a reputation for arrogance—hence his nickname. The German nobility was nervous about increasing the power of Henry the Proud and the House of Welf and also of angering the powerful Hohenstaufens. He was elected king, and thus began one of the strongest German dynasties in history. He was crowned Conrad III of Germany.

The political atmosphere was turbulent at best. Ever since the end of the Ottonian dynasty, the empire had been in chaos. Emperors clashed with the papacy; popes set up anti-kings, and kings set up antipopes; and German dukes fought with each other as Italian nobles fought with their emperor. Conflict was nothing new to Conrad, and so, perhaps it is unsurprising that he made no attempt to live peacefully with the House of Welf. Instead, he deposed Henry the Proud from his duchies, stripping the family of its wealth and power. Enraged, Henry started a civil war that would wage throughout the rest of Henry’s lifetime, continued after his death by his son, Henry the Lion.

Germany was torn to pieces by the fighting families. The empire itself was neglected, with Italy gaining more and more independence, and its borders shrank as internal squabble threatened to cause the collapse of the whole empire. It had been so long since the last great Holy Roman Emperor, and it appeared as though, just like the ancient Roman Empire, the Holy Roman Empire was about to crumble into nothing.

Unless someone would be able to come to its rescue. Some strong and capable leader, ready for war, but willing for peace. A hero of the age.

A man like Frederick Barbarossa.

Chapter 9 – The Red-Bearded Warrior King

Illustration III: A depiction of Barbarossa from a book of legends about him.

The citizens of Milan had been bold in asserting their independence from the emperor when they had first revolted against him and joined the rebellious Lombard League. The Lombard League supported the pope and only the pope, Alexander III; despite the fact that Alexander’s predecessor had crowned the Holy Roman Emperor, there had been considerable friction between the pope and the emperor ever since. In fact, the city of Milan had been conquered by the ruthless sword of the emperor not so long ago. But now its residents had decided to throw off the chains of the empire and declare their support for the pope instead of their imperial ruler.

It had been a grand gesture at the time—a great fanfare of defiance against one of the most powerful men that medieval Europe had ever known. Yet now, as the Milanese army braced itself for a German charge, that defiance was giving way to terror.

The Milanese army had fortified a position near Legnano, on the banks of the Olona River, at the end of May in 1176. Their army consisted of 3,500 men: mostly cavalry, some knights, and a band of infantry guarding a sacred war wagon known as a Carroccio. Ox-drawn, the Carroccio was brightly painted in the green and white banner of Milan, and its soldiers would protect it with their lives.

There was a great clash, not far distant, and the Milanese army held its breath. They knew that their reconnaissance corps—a group of 700 horsemen—must have met with the vanguard of the Holy Roman Emperor. Waiting, the Milanese army hoped that the vanguard would be overwhelmed and that their horsemen would return to them in triumph. That their hopes of defeating one of the most ruthless military commanders of the Middle Ages would come true.

Then they heard it—the thunder of hoofbeats. Galloping hoofbeats. Fleeing. Pouring down the riverbank, what was left of the 700 horsemen were scrambling back to the main army in a disorganized retreat. Their ranks were pockmarked with loss, their brightly colored tunics torn, armor scratched and dented. And right on their heels came a force of knights thousands strong, seasoned professionals that had fought four campaigns in Italy so far. The peace of the summer day was shattered by a battle roar that had known nothing but victory, and the Milanese army quaked in their boots as the leader of their enemy rode up to the head of the army on a snorting destrier.

The emperor was tall and powerful, his great arms bulging beneath the gleaming metal of his armor. Even though he was already in his fifties, the emperor was a living legend, a terror to his enemies and a great hero to his people. His sword flashed in the sun, not as cold nor as bright as the rage in his eyes, and from beneath his iron helmet flowed a mighty, scarlet beard, thick and flecked with gray, pouring down over his breastplate like a backward banner of blazing fire. The beard had earned Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I his Italian nickname, Barbarossa, or “red-bearded.” And his ruthlessness had earned him the reputation of being one of the strongest emperors the world had yet known.

Frederick’s reputation was one of endless victories, yet his first military campaign in 1147 had ended in a humiliating defeat. He had accompanied his uncle, King Conrad III, on the Second Crusade as a young man. The Second Crusade was ill-fated; despite the united forces of Louis VII of France and Conrad III of Germany, the Christians were badly defeated by their Muslim opponents and returned home tattered and beaten after the disaster that had been the Siege of Damascus. Frederick had fought at Conrad’s side for the duration of the Crusade, and when he returned home in 1149, he had proven himself a fearless warrior in Conrad’s eyes. When the king was on his deathbed just three years later, he stripped his six-year-old son, also named Frederick, of the chance to inherit his title. Instead, in the presence of a trusted archbishop who would later testify that Conrad was fully in command of his mental faculties, he handed the kingdom to Frederick.

The young king’s beard was just a cluster of scarlet hair then, but his power would soon grow in proportion to that magnificent mane. Despite his later reputation as a ruthless fighter, Frederick’s first few actions as king were to make peace. He restored Henry the Lion, his father’s long-time enemy, to his possessions as Duke of Bavaria and then granted Conrad’s own son the Duchy of Swabia. Thus, for the first time since the reign of Lothair III, there was peace between the Hohenstaufens and the House of Welf.

Frederick’s next move was to restore imperial power over the papacy. His inspiration—and, according to some, ancestor—was Charlemagne, who had not only been a friend of the pope but also undoubtedly his superior. During Frederick’s time, however, tensions were more strained than ever between the empire and the papacy. The last few German kings had called themselves emperors, yet they had never actually been crowned. Frederick remedied this by trading his assistance in Pope Eugene III’s battle with Roger of Sicily for his coronation. He was officially named Holy Roman Emperor in 1155 at Saint Peter’s Basilica, built upon the ruins of Old St. Peter’s where Charlemagne himself had been crowned.

Unfortunately, the relations between Frederick and the pope would not remain so amiable. Even as Frederick beat the warring factions of Germany into a single, coherent nation and raised the most powerful army in Christianity at the time, his efforts to restore Italy to his empire were not well received. The pope had agreed to crown him in name; he might not have expected Frederick to actually act on his new title the way that Charlemagne and the Ottonian dynasty had done. In fact, on the very day of his coronation, Frederick’s army slaughtered 1,000 Romans who had revolted against him as he was crowned. This left the pope and the rest of Italy deeply dissatisfied with their new emperor.

Over the more than three decades of his reign, Frederick would prove to be an inspired and visionary leader. He saw a Europe united once again under the mighty banner of the Roman Empire, with himself at its head. A ruthless military commander who also demonstrated a knack for diplomacy, Frederick conquered city after city. The one country that continued to irk him, however, was Italy. He was never able to subdue it fully, even after four different campaigns had ended in ignominious Italian defeat.

Now, on May 29th, 1176, those same Italians were determined to find the first major victory against Frederick Barbarossa since he had come to power. They had lived in warfare for more than twenty years, and they were ready to throw off the yoke of Frederick’s rule. As his seasoned knights rushed down upon them, they summoned their courage and charged forth to meet them.

Little did the Milanese army know that Frederick’s campaign had not been without trouble. In fact, even as his army charged toward them, it was much smaller than it should have been. The campaign had not gotten off to a good start; despite several victories in battle, Frederick had lost a large number of men to disease. Needing reinforcements, he’d sent messengers to one of his strongest allies—Henry the Lion, Duke of Bavaria.

That was when the scheming Henry saw his chance. Despite the fact that he owed the restoration of his possessions to Frederick, he still harbored resentment against the entire Hohenstaufen family, knowing that his father could have been emperor if Conrad hadn’t taken his place. Hoping that Barbarossa would die in Italy, leaving the way open for Henry to seize the throne, he refused to help. So, Frederick charged into the Battle of Legnano knowing that his army just wasn’t big enough.

Henry’s scheme almost worked. The Milanese rose up against the imperial army in a bloody fight that ended in an awful defeat for Frederick’s knights and almost in the death of Frederick himself, too. He was badly wounded during the battle—Frederick preferred to lead his knights into the fighting personally instead of using a handy duke or general to take that dangerous role—and rumors circulated around Germany and Italy that the red-bearded king was dead. Henry started an open rebellion against Barbarossa’s heir, but it turned out to be a premature move. Frederick wasn’t dead, but he was definitely angry. Forced to concede that he wasn’t going to beat the Lombard League this time, Frederick made peace with its leader, denounced his own antipope, recognized the pope’s authority, and returned to Germany. There, he pillaged Henry’s lands and soundly defeated his rival. He took everything from Henry—his lands, his titles, and his power—and would likely have taken his life, too, if the cowardly rebel hadn’t fallen at Frederick’s feet and begged forgiveness. Frederick spared his life but gave his duchies to a pair of his most loyal allies and drove Henry into exile.

With peace made at home, Frederick started to try a different method to return Italy to his empire. He married his son, also named Henry, to a princess of Sicily; Henry was made King of Italy in 1186. As for Barbarossa, he headed back to the lands where his warrior spirit had first proven itself. Joining the Third Crusade, he amassed an army so large that it could not be taken to the Middle East by sea. Instead, he marched it across hostile territory all the way to Anatolia, where they won two more battles.

The aging warrior, now nearing seventy, had lived his whole life at the edge of the sword —a larger-than-life commander and king who was at the forefront of every fight and fought his way through enemies and life with fearless zeal. Yet, in the end, it was not a battle that took him. Instead, on a hot June day in 1190, leading his army from the front of its ranks as usual, he attempted to cross the Saleph River. His horse was swept out from under him, and Frederick sank, his armor filling with water. To the horror of his army, that great red beard flashed up in the air one last time, and then he was gone.

Chapter 10 – Captor of the Lionheart

The death of Barbarossa left the Holy Roman Empire far larger and far more united than it had been before his reign. Not only had his military conquests added to the territories of the empire, but during his reign—and those of other Hohenstaufen emperors—the empire had expanded considerably to the east. This was a far more peaceful expansion than had taken place to the west, where Barbarossa and others like him had carved out new lands with the edge of the sword. The lands directly to the east of the empire were sparsely inhabited, mostly by Slavic peoples, and when Germanic farmers and tradesmen started moving farther and farther east, they were received without resistance or trouble. In fact, it wasn’t long before Germanic and Slavic peoples were marrying one another, and the settlement of areas that include parts of modern-day Poland and Germany was completed without much violence.

When he left on his last Crusade, Frederick Barbarossa had left his second son, Henry, in charge of the empire. News of his father’s death catapulted Henry into the role of Henry VI, King of Germany. Immediately, of course, he had to deal with strenuous opposition from the House of Welf as they tested the young ruler—who was in his mid-twenties when he came to power—to see if he would be an easier target than his father had been. In fact, Frederick’s oldest foe, Henry the Lion, was naturally at the head of the opposition.

Henry managed to crush the first resistance, leaving him free to be crowned emperor at Rome in 1191 and to pursue his interests in Sicily. He had married Constance, a Sicilian princess, and become the heir to its throne; some of Sicily’s nobles, however, had rejected their German king and set up an anti-king against him, an illegitimate nephew of Constance named Tancred. Henry summoned the army that had given his father so much success and marched on the rebel cities, but he proved not to be as proficient as his father had been in battle, a fact made much worse by a horrific plague that wiped out a large portion of his army. The fighting ended when Constance was kidnapped by her own nephew, and Henry had no choice but to return to Germany empty-handed. Disease had decimated his army, and his father had been far more interested in increasing the empire’s lands than royal riches; Henry was out of men and out of money.

To make matters worse, Henry the Lion had, of course, revolted against the king once again. Henry VI was thoroughly consumed in trying to put down this latest rebellion when a reprieve from his troubles would come to him, and in the most unlikely form: a legendary prisoner with a king’s ransom. Literally.

* * * *

Richard the Lionheart was the king of England but spoke only French.

Born to Eleanor of Aquitaine and King Henry II of England in 1157, Richard was the third of his father’s legitimate sons, but his older brothers were both dead by the time his father passed away in 1189, leaving the throne to Richard.

By this time, Richard had already earned a reputation for his fearsome leadership and unflinching courage in battle, earning him the nickname that made him a legend: King Richard the Lionheart. No sooner had the young king ascended to the throne than he was champing at the bit for warfare. He had engaged in small skirmishes with the French and even a rebellion against his own father before this time, but he had one ultimate goal and one ultimate antagonist that he was determined to defeat. That antagonist was Saladin, the leader of the Muslim forces.

The First Crusade had been a bloody and brutal affair, ending in what was seen as a glorious victory when Jerusalem was captured by European forces in 1099. Almost a century later, however, Saladin had decided to take back what his ancestors had lost. The sultan marched on Jerusalem in 1187 and recaptured the city. Richard took that challenge personally. As soon as he ascended to the throne, he started campaigning for a Third Crusade, and he was the leader of the very Crusade that took Frederick Barbarossa’s life.

Richard’s Crusade was moderately successful. He was able to win back many of the lands that had been lost to Saladin but was forced to sign a peace treaty with him in 1192 and head back to his own country. His journey home, however, was ill-fated. A storm blew him off course in the Adriatic Sea, and he shipwrecked near Venice. Afterward, while trying to sneak overland to the lands of Henry the Lion, his brother-in-law, he was captured near Vienna, the home of another archenemy: The Duke of Austria.

Duke Leopold V of Austria was delighted to have Richard the Lionheart end up right in his lap. He was a vassal of King Henry VI, and Richard, in turn, had stopped at Messina, Sicily, on the way to the Holy Land. There, he had forged an alliance with Tancred, the anti-king who had kidnapped Henry’s wife. When Leopold found Richard, he was swift to arrest and imprison him in his castle and to head off joyfully to tell Henry about the royal treasure he had hidden in his castle.

Henry was overjoyed to find his enemy’s greatest ally in this predicament. Soon, however, he realized that he could make more out of this situation than just simply keeping Richard prisoner and preventing him from helping Tancred. Instead, Richard would be the perfect solution for Henry’s money problem.

The royal family of England was dismayed when Henry’s message reached them. Richard, he told them, was alive, safe, and well—but he was also a prisoner. And he would be a prisoner until his family could come up with 150,000 silver marks, and if they couldn’t come up with that, their king would be turned over to Philip II of France, who had become Richard’s enemy. Knowing that being sent to France would be a death sentence for Richard, his mother, Eleanor, scrambled to help him. She did not, however, receive much support from her younger son, John; he’d gotten used to the cushy position of looking after the kingdom while his brother was gone, and he wasn’t ready to give it up. Despite his resistance, Eleanor managed to tax England’s citizens to within an inch of their lives to come up with the gigantic sum of money, which would amount to around three billion dollars today.

With the money in his pocket and Richard forced to swear fealty to him, Henry had, in one motion, removed not only Tancred’s strongest ally but also funded his campaign against the Sicilian king. Richard had to slink back to England in 1194, reduced to a vassal of Germany, while Henry triumphantly put together a massive army and headed to Sicily to defeat his archnemesis. This time, nothing could stand in his path. He swept through Sicily, and Tancred—whose short, unappealing appearance had earned him the mocking nickname of the “Monkey King”—died in Palermo that same year. Henry was crowned King of Sicily once and for all.

With that, Sicily was once again added to the vast domain of the Holy Roman Empire. The reigns of Frederick Barbarossa and Henry VI had strengthened and uplifted imperial power, but it was just one generation away from disaster. First, however, the last Hohenstaufen emperor would rule, and even in the company of his warrior king grandfather and ransoming father, Frederick II would prove to be something quite extraordinary.

Chapter 11 – Stupor Mundi

Henry VI was on his way to depose Tancred and be crowned King of Sicily when Constance, who had since been rescued from the clutches of her nephew, bore him a son. The infant boy had the blood of legends coursing through his veins, yet he would prove to be very different from them all.

From the beginning, it was clear that Henry’s heir, named Frederick after his indomitable grandfather, was not the same bullheaded man of war that Barbarossa had been. This little boy, it seemed, would not grow up to bash his way through life with a battle-ax or to capture and ransom his opponents. Instead, young Frederick was far more interested in arts, sciences, culture, and diplomacy.

Regardless of his interests, Frederick had little choice but to become king at the time of his father’s death in 1197. He was only three years old, and soon, his entire world would change when his mother, Constance, died only a year later. With no regency to care for him, Frederick was sent to live with his new guardian, Pope Innocent III. In the meantime, the mighty kingdom that his father had left behind began to crumble as the remaining Hohenstaufens and the House of Welf began, once again, to argue over the crown. Two kings were elected at once, both by different supporters. The Hohenstaufen candidate, Philip of Swabia, was Barbarossa’s youngest son; the Welf candidate was Otto of Brunswick, the son of Henry the Lion. And thus, the children of two old enemies found themselves at odds once more.

Frederick grew up under the guardianship of the current pope and the tutelage of a future one, Cencio, who would later be known as Pope Honorius III. Pope Innocent, albeit an important theological writer, was discontent with simply being the leader of the Church. He was desperate for secular power, too, and with the German king safely playing in his nursery right under Innocent’s supervision, he knew that he had practically no secular opposition. He started to assert more and more power over matters of the state, and with the houses of Welf and Hohenstaufen more intent on destroying each other than paying attention to what was going on in Italy, he did so with practically no resistance.

As Frederick was growing up, Innocent was calling for Crusades, some of them focused on the Byzantine Empire. Frederick was raised in the inner workings of the papacy, far closer than any of his predecessors had ever been. At the time, the pope was viewed as the direct representative of divine power; he was seen as an almost angelic figure, just a step away from a deity. But not by Frederick. This young man was raised nose to nose with the pope himself, and he stumbled upon an awkward truth: The pope was human, and he had flaws. Greed was just one of them.

Despite the fact that he had been entrusted with the care of the rightful emperor, Pope Innocent III turned his back on Frederick and instead crowned Otto IV of Brunswick emperor in 1209 when Frederick was a teenager. By this point, Frederick had come of age, but he was more interested in seizing power in his homelands than in Germany. Frederick might have come from a long line of German kings, but he’d been born in Sicily and raised in Italy, and he was still eligible to be king there. He started to campaign against the small, local nobles that had grubbed for his power, and as his strength grew, so did Otto’s and Innocent’s trepidation.

When Frederick dismissed his own tutor and launched an invasion on Italy, Pope Innocent finally realized that he wasn’t a little boy anymore. Shortly after crowning Otto, he turned against the new emperor and betrayed him by supporting Frederick’s election to be the German king at the Diet of Nuremberg. He was crowned in 1212 at Mainz, forcing Otto back into hiding in Welf-controlled lands.

By this time, Frederick had proven himself to be not only an ambitious ruler but an educated one, too. He spoke six different languages—Middle High German, Sicilian, Latin, Arabic, Greek, and langues d’oïl (a predecessor of modern French)—and still had an avid interest in culture. He was fascinated by cultures other than his own, too; he kept a whole menagerie of rare and interesting wild animals and had an open-mindedness that was utterly uncharacteristic of the nobility of that era. It was this open-mindedness that would lead him to clash, repeatedly, with the papacy that had raised him.

At first, relations between Frederick and the papacy were fairly amicable, so much so that his once tutor, now Pope Honorius III, crowned him Holy Roman Emperor in 1220. Sadly, it was all downhill from there.

True to his early ways, Frederick spent most of his time in Italy and Sicily, although he did govern Germany. He had an extravagant court at Palermo, where he engaged in some seriously questionable activities in the eyes of the pope, including having a whole harem of exotic women. His relationship with Honorius was further complicated by his attitude toward the Fifth Crusade.

Pope Innocent’s Fourth Crusade had ended with the sacking of Constantinople, the capital of the Byzantine Empire, but had not succeeded in recapturing Jerusalem. This time, Innocent was determined to use a tactic that had been suggested by Richard the Lionheart himself: attacking the Islamic territories at their weakest point, which was Egypt. The cities and towns in Egypt fueled much of the Muslim army but were not as well defended as Jerusalem itself. Innocent died during the preparations for the Crusade, but Honorius also supported the cause and reminded Frederick of a promise he had made to go on Crusades when he was crowned king of Germany.

Frederick, however, was reluctant. He was eventually persuaded to send some troops toward the Middle East under the command of Ludwig I (also known as Louis I), the Hohenstaufen-supporting Wittlesbach Duke of Bavaria. A relative of Frederick Barbarossa, Louis was more than ready to tackle the forces commanded by the successors of Saladin, but Honorius was angered by Frederick’s delegation of the Crusade to a mere duke. He had hoped that Frederick himself would lead the campaign, but when the Fifth Crusade set out for Damietta, Egypt, Frederick stayed at home in his palace.

In the end, it was the lack of leadership that would lead the Crusaders to their doom. Honorius had perhaps believed that Frederick would be the same fearless, ruthless leader that his grandfather had been. Indeed, if only Barbarossa had been at the head of those Crusaders, then perhaps their aim would have been effortlessly achieved. Instead, the Fifth Crusade ended in ignominy. The Crusaders never did get farther than Damietta; they besieged it for seventeen months from June 1218 until November 1219, but despite assistance from St. Francis of Assisi himself, their efforts proved unsuccessful. Repeated attempts were made by the Crusaders and the papacy to get Frederick involved, but he wanted no part of it. Eventually, despite finally capturing Damietta, the Crusaders ground to a halt on the banks of the Nile. Famine in Egypt left them with little choice other than to turn back to Europe, beaten once more.

Honorius was outraged. He decided that the failure of the Fifth Crusade was entirely due to Frederick’s lackadaisical attitude and lack of involvement, and he placed the blame wholeheartedly on the reluctant emperor. Despite the fact that contemporaries, astounded by Frederick’s diplomatic prowess and unique court, were calling him stupor mundi (“wonder of the world”), Honorius saw him as an infidel, a traitor, and a dangerous nuisance. He made Frederick a scapegoat for the defeat, and the whole of Christianity followed his example.

It was the hatred of his entire empire that finally moved Frederick to get involved in the Crusades. Honorius persuaded him that he had little choice but to go on another Crusade to regain the trust of the people, and so, in 1225, Frederick promised to go within the next three years. He promptly sat back and did little about his promise, however, which prompted a revolt in Italy. Reforming the Lombard League, a rebellion was set up against Frederick by the same organization that had defeated the military genius that had been his grandfather. Spooked, Frederick had to turn to Honorius for help, and the pope mediated a negotiation between the emperor and the rebels that eventually ended peacefully. But the point was still sharply brought home to Frederick: He would have to go on a Crusade or lose control of his empire.

Still, to the watching world, it appeared as though Frederick was stalling once more. He cited troubles within his kingdom as his reason for dragging his feet, but it seems as though Frederick was actually busy looking for another angle by which to handle the coming Crusade. Frederick had not engaged in major warfare before, instead solving many of his problems with diplomacy, and he was the first European leader to seriously consider that diplomacy might be the answer to the goal of the Crusades. In 1225, he married Yolande de Brienne (also known as Isabella II), the thirteen-year-old Queen of Jerusalem. Even though the European royalty of Jerusalem did not have control over the city, instead living in exile in Europe, this did make Frederick the official King of Jerusalem. Once this union was complete, Frederick dragged his feet for a further three years until Honorius died and was replaced by Pope Gregory IX. Sick of Frederick’s reluctance, Gregory promptly excommunicated him, and the emperor resigned himself to his fate and set off for the Holy Land in 1228.

Frederick is known for having an unusually modern approach to politics, government, and life in general, and his role in the Sixth Crusade was no exception. The excommunicated leader of the Crusade was still controversial; many of the knights, some of them belonging to religious orders such as the Knights Templar, refused to serve him. Things were made worse when Yolande died in childbirth, leaving Frederick to reign as regent for his baby son, Conrad.

Despite this, Frederick did amass a considerably larger and more well-trained army than any previous Crusader leader had, and he made his way to Jerusalem largely unopposed. Once there, however, he did not bring out his siege engines or prepare his battering rams. Instead, aided by his habits of consorting with both Jewish and Muslim people, much to the dislike of the Church, Frederick negotiated peace with the Muslim leader. Luckily for Frederick, the Muslim leader, al-Kamil, was similarly open-minded. He was tired of the nuisance that the Crusades had become, and in 1229, the two leaders signed the Treaty of Jaffa (not to be confused with the more famous Treaty of Jaffa signed by Richard I and Saladin in 1192). Jerusalem belonged to Frederick at last.

Sadly, winning back Jerusalem did not make Frederick a hero, at least not to the papacy. Together with Yolande’s disgruntled father, John of Brienne, Gregory IX put together an army and declared open war on Frederick less than three years after the signing of the treaty. Frederick would spend the rest of his reign fighting the papacy and internal revolts from the ever-troublesome German nobility. He also had to contend with war from the Lombard League, raids from the Mongols, and a second excommunication by Gregory’s successor, Innocent IV. Ironically, however, he was wearing a monk’s habit when he died of dysentery in 1250 after a long, controversial, and illustrious reign.

News of Frederick’s death was accepted joyously by the papacy, who had labeled him as a friend of the devil himself. If they had known the chaos that his death would cast the empire into, however, they might not have been quite so happy.

Chapter 12 – The Great Interregnum

Illustration IV: The current St. Peter’s Basilica, which was completed in 1626, was built on the ruins of the previous venue for coronations.

Frederick’s death in 1250—which he had still been actively ruling until then, even though he had been formally deposed by Innocent IV in 1245—left the empire in the hands of his son, Conrad IV.

Ever since Frederick had disinherited his eldest son, Henry, for being rebellious, Conrad had known that he would become emperor sooner or later. He was only twelve years old when he started becoming involved in politics, even though his father was still alive and had also elected Henry Raspe, Landgrave of Thuringia, to be the regent of Germany. Conrad would feel the sting of betrayal for the first time in 1245 when Innocent deposed his father. The deposition of Frederick meant that the papacy had stripped Conrad’s throne away from him; instead, Henry Raspe lunged at the chance to take over the kingdom, and with the full support of the pope, he was made an anti-king.

The House of Hohenstaufen, however, continued to support Conrad after the death of Frederick. He inherited his father’s titles as Kings of Jerusalem, Sicily, and Germany, although the title of Holy Roman Emperor would not be bestowed upon him as the pope did not recognize him as king of anything, let alone a real emperor. By the time Frederick was dead, Henry Raspe had died as well, and William of Holland had been elected anti-king in his stead. The pope was determined to crush the troublesome House of Hohenstaufen for good.

But Conrad, young though he was, would not be so easily defeated. At only 23 years old, he took up arms against the papacy and William and marched on Italy. This act of war led to his excommunication, but this was no deterrent for Conrad. He was determined to win back glory for the Hohenstaufens and to grab the power that he felt was rightfully his own, but it was not to be. As civil war exploded across the face of Germany, just as Conrad was amassing an army in order to attack William directly and seize back his throne, the young king died of malaria in 1254. And despite the fact that he left behind a young son, Conradin, no Hohenstaufen would ever again sit upon the throne of the empire.

Conrad’s death led to yet more divisions in Germany, and once again, it was the great rift between the House of Welf and the House of Hohenstaufen that tore the country apart. The Welf family supported Richard of Cornwall, an English prince, who had repeatedly refused the offer of the kingdom of Germany even when it was given to him by Pope Innocent IV. He finally conceded to be crowned as King of the Romans in 1257. On the other hand, the Hohenstaufens favored Alfonso X. Alfonso was a wise and learned king of Castile (in modern-day Spain), whose mother had been a Duchess of Swabia, but he had never even been to Germany and did not garner any support from the papacy.

For almost twenty years, nothing but chaos reigned in Germany, and the Holy Roman Empire itself was all but forgotten. Spurts of violence broke out between the two candidates for kingship, and neither of them was ever universally accepted. As for Conrad’s son, the actual heir to the German throne, he was quickly pushed aside by the papacy. Pope Alexander IV followed in Pope Innocent IV’s footsteps in his unrelenting persecution of the Hohenstaufen family, and Conradin was never able to lay claim to anything more in Germany than the Duchy of Swabia. He did retain his title as King of Jerusalem, a fact that constantly chafed at the pope, who had long since excommunicated him. He rebelled against Charles I, Count of Anjou, who captured and beheaded him in 1268 when he was only sixteen years old, and that was the end of the Hohenstaufen line forever.

With Germany embroiled in a civil war, there appeared to be no end to the chaos. The princes cared for little other than increasing their individual power, and the bitter conflict between the opposing families wore on. It was only in 1273, when Richard of Cornwall died, that the unstable period known as the Great Interregnum would finally come to an end.

The end of the era of the Hohenstaufens, illustrious and colorful though they were, would usher in a new age under a new and even more powerful dynasty. The time of the Habsburgs was at hand.

* * * *

The fact that Rudolf, Count of Habsburg, was the first in what would be a long line of great Roman emperors was ironic considering that the whole reason he was elected king was because he was supposed to be meek, mild, and not too much trouble.

Sick of decades of conflict, the German nobles had finally had enough of the power-grabbing that had been going on ever since the death of Conrad IV. Now that Richard of Cornwall was dead, it was time to find someone else to be king—someone who would be easy to control and reluctant to cause rifts, either between himself and the nobles or between himself and the papacy. Germany needed some peaceful little king, the antithesis of Barbarossa, and Rudolf seemed to be just the man for the job.

A humble count, Rudolf came from a pro-Hohenstaufen but relatively minor family: the Habsburgs. His early life is fairly obscure; he was born on May 1st, 1218, just before Frederick II was made emperor, and he had been sent to his uncle to use as a squire in 1232. This move may have indicated that Rudolf’s family didn’t think much would become of him, either—squires traditionally grew up to become knights, who were important on the battlefield but negligible in politics.

Possibly as a result of the death of his older brothers, Rudolf ended up inheriting his father’s lands in 1239. He became the Count of Habsburg, a relatively peaceful but nonetheless large and prosperous area in modern-day Switzerland. His only real claim to fame was defending his lands successfully against attack in the 1240s, which proved that he could at least handle himself on the battlefield. He was also a supporter of the pope, so when German nobility elected him as king in 1273, there was little reason for the pope or anyone else to put up much of a fuss about it. He was unanimously elected and took his place as king with almost no resistance.

Rudolf’s election may have come as a shock to some of the bigger players in the dangerous game of medieval politics. Most notable among them was Ottokar II, King of Bohemia. Bohemia had been a duchy of Germany until the reign of Frederick II, who had allowed it to become a kingdom, and it was rapidly growing in power and importance. This worried German nobility endlessly as they feared Bohemia might try to invade Germany; already, Ottokar had designs on the German throne. Rudolf was supposed to be a meek and convenient placeholder.

Instead, the first of the Habsburg kings took the reins of Germany as firmly as an experienced rider seizes the bridle of a particularly fractious horse. He was determined to tame the wild beast that decades of civil war had made and to impose a real and lasting peace on the land that had spent so many years at war with itself.

After his coronation at Aachen—the city that had been so deeply loved by Charlemagne—Rudolf knew he was facing two great enemies: the pope and Ottokar. He had long been a supporter of the papacy, and making peace with Rome was relatively easy, but it required an act of humility that would have been impossible for many of the warring princes that had been ripping Germany apart. Realizing that having a large empire would be no good if he couldn’t keep the peace within it, Rudolf surrendered Rome and Sicily to Pope Gregory X. Frederick II would undoubtedly have been mortified to see it happen, but it proved to be the right move at that time; the bonds between the papacy and Germany were healed at last. To sweeten the deal, Rudolf also promised to lead another Crusade.

Ottokar, however, would not be so easily placated. Born in 1233, he had not had an easy childhood. With his elder brother being groomed to rule the Kingdom of Bohemia, Ottokar had been educated in ecclesiastical subjects, but his brother died suddenly and unexpectedly as a young man in 1247. Fourteen-year-old Ottokar had to come to terms with the fact that he would now rule the kingdom, and he didn’t take it well. Drinking himself into a stupor, he refused to involve himself in politics and withdrew into a life of hunting and debauchery. It was while Ottokar was in this vulnerable state that some of his father’s enemies enticed him into leading a rebellion against his father in 1248; the rebellion was unsuccessful, and Ottokar was imprisoned.

He was far from that rebellious teenager now, though. Forty years old and having ruled over Bohemia with a stern hand for twenty years, he was ready for much more than just one little kingdom. He wanted to be emperor, to follow in the footsteps of Charlemagne and of the Hohenstaufen princes to whom he was related through his Swabian mother. By the time that Rudolf took the throne, Ottokar was already in control of several important German duchies, including Carinthia and Austria. He was not about to back down for some unimportant count who had suddenly found himself king.

Rudolf gave Ottokar three years to acknowledge him as king and surrender some of the German lands that he controlled. Ottokar, of course, had no intention of doing any of the things that Rudolf had asked of him, and in 1276, Rudolf had no choice but to declare open war on his Bohemian rival. Despite the fact that Rudolf’s diplomacy had cost Ottokar one of his key allies—the pope—Ottokar was, nonetheless, ready to meet the German king in battle.

The kings met at last in Vienna, Austria (which was then a duchy of Germany), where Rudolf laid siege to Ottokar’s fortress. With their ruler trapped in his own home, some of Ottokar’s own nobles rebelled against him, and he could only watch as Bohemia was torn apart. He was forced to surrender, giving up all of his German lands and even betrothing his son to Rudolf’s daughter; in return, Rudolf granted him the right to remain king of Bohemia. The peace they made was short-lived, however. Rudolf had insultingly turned Vienna into his capital, and Ottokar was determined to take it back. In 1278, he amassed a Bohemian army and marched on Vienna, but it would be his last campaign. Rudolf’s men met him in the Battle on the Marchfeld, and the Bohemian king was killed in the fighting.

Chapter 13 – The King of Peace

The defeat of Ottokar ushered in, after many rebellions and decades of civil war, a welcome period of quiet stability that the German people so desperately needed. Rudolf quickly proved himself to be more than just a political figurehead to be manipulated by his nobles. In fact, lowly though his beginnings had been, he proved himself to be one of Germany’s most capable kings. While he still struggled with fractious princes that all wanted a piece of his prosperity for themselves, Rudolf succeeded in maintaining peace throughout the rest of his reign. He also tried to ensure stability after his death by grooming his sons—first his youngest, Rudolf, and then his eldest, Albert, after Rudolf’s death—to be capable rulers themselves.

Despite Rudolf’s many efforts to make sure that the kingdom would pass seamlessly to Albert when he died in 1291, his son would have to wait some time before he would get his chance to be king. Perhaps fearing the power of any single family, the nobility rejected Albert and chose another king instead, Adolf of Nassau. The electors included the King of Bohemia, who was Ottokar’s son, Wenceslaus II. Perhaps more than anyone else, Wenceslaus bore a grudge against Rudolf and his whole family. Adolf, who was a relatively unimportant count but who had been given the title of Castle Lordship for his devoted service to Rudolf, was the perfect candidate. He was close enough to Rudolf not to anger too many of the previous king’s supporters but nonetheless a better option for Rudolf’s opponents than the beloved Albert. Electing Adolf was also a strategic move on the behalf of the nobles that chose him: they were trying to avoid the disastrous dynasties that were causing grief elsewhere in Europe by making sure that the title of King of Germany would not be hereditary. Regardless of the fact that Albert had been well educated to become king since he was a youth, Adolf took what Albert viewed as his rightful place on the throne.

The electors chose Adolf in part because they viewed him as weak and controllable, but just like Rudolf, this decision backfired badly for the nobility. While not quite as wise as Rudolf, Adolf was certainly able to make some important decisions for the good of the kingdom—and for the acquisition of his own power. Key among these was making a strong alliance with England’s King Edward I. Tensions between France and England had been rising ever since the disastrous relationship between Richard the Lionheart and the French king Philip II, and the two countries were only a few decades away from the drawn-out and bloody conflict that would later be known as the Hundred Years’ War. Edward was looking for allies against his old enemy, and Adolf was quick to offer his help. This brought in considerable revenue from the richer English Crown.

By 1298, Adolf’s growing power was starting to worry the German nobility. They wanted a tame king, not someone who was going to start governing them with a firm hand. One of the first signs of trouble for Adolf came when Albert, who had hitherto been discreet in his opposition of Adolf and avoided direct confrontation, formed an alliance with Wenceslaus II of Bohemia. The two young men put aside their fathers’ old rivalry, forming a potentially strong and dangerous coalition. It was only then that Albert started to openly stand against Adolf, still fully convinced that he was the rightful heir to the throne.

Disaster was imminent. Albert had many loyal supporters, while Adolf had the might of the royal army behind him, so civil war appeared to be inevitable. This was exactly what the nobility had been hoping to avoid. Albert was clearly not going to give up his crown, and the archbishops and nobility who had elected Adolf were starting to regret their decision.

In an unprecedented act, then utterly unheard of, the electors decided to depose Adolf. This was something that could legally only be done by the pope himself, but the pope never got involved. The electors simply charged the king with a variety of different crimes—including sacrilege—and threw him out on his ear, electing Albert in his place.

Adolf, however, would not go down without a fight. He gathered his army at the gates of Mainz, where his nemesis, the Archbishop of Mainz, one of the main electors behind his deposition, was waiting. Albert knew that he would have to defend his crown before he could even wear it, and he was ready to take on his opponent in full battle. To the dismay of the electors, war turned out to be inevitable, but luckily for them and for the people of Germany, it was also short-lived. The two rivals met at the Battle of Göllheim on July 2nd, 1298, and Albert’s vicious army—reinforced with Bohemians—effortlessly overran that of Adolf. The deposed king fell in with a small group of faithful followers as the rest of his army was put to flight, and Albert I took his place on his father’s throne.

Albert’s reign proved similar to his father’s. He had little interest in expanding the empire or laying claim to the imperial title, instead focusing on trying to keep some form of peace within his borders. Like Rudolf, he was not wholly successful in suppressing the warring and power-hungry princes, but he did maintain a tenuous peace with Italy, even though it took the pope five years to acknowledge him as king. Sadly, Albert would only rule for ten years before his habit of limiting the power of the German dukes led to his early death. He was stabbed and killed by John of Swabia, his nephew, in 1308.

Like Rudolf, Albert had spent much of his rule grooming his son and heir to take over the kingdom after his demise, but it was not to be. The electors were still trying to avoid allowing any one family to become too powerful—the way the Hohenstaufens were—thus angering the other families and causing another civil war such as the one that had taken place during the Great Interregnum. Dashing the hopes of Albert’s son, who thought he would inherit his father’s throne, the archbishops and nobles instead did as they had done when electing Rudolf and Adolf: they chose a fairly obscure, but nonetheless promising and educated, minor noble to take the throne as king.

This time, the noble they chose was Henry of Luxembourg, a count who had been educated in France. Henry was a soft-spoken, mild-mannered, very learned man who was crowned King Henry VII of Germany in 1308. With peace mostly established within the borders of Germany itself, he was able to set his sights further afield and started re-establishing the empire of old.

His first goal was to get a firm foothold on the Kingdom of Bohemia. Its king, Wenceslaus II, had been friendly with his predecessor but had now died, leaving the kingdom torn between his children. His son and heir, crowned Wenceslaus III, had barely reigned a year before he was assassinated. The throne was thus left to his brother-in-law, Henry of Bohemia, to the great chagrin of Wenceslaus’ only daughter, Princess Elizabeth. Elizabeth had royal blood in her veins, unlike her brother-in-law; even though she was just fourteen years old, she was determined to sit on the throne of Bohemia as its queen. She turned to Bohemia’s powerful neighbor, Germany, for help in exchange for her hand in marriage. Henry VII jumped at the chance to regain control over what had once been a German duchy. He sallied to the rescue of the lovely young princess, deposing her opponent and marrying her off to his son, John. John was then crowned King of Bohemia, and Elizabeth took her rightful place by his side.

With Bohemia now turned into an ally, Henry turned to another neighbor of his country: Italy. Italy was then in a state of confusion. More or less abandoned by the German kings since Rudolf bowed out of the country in 1273, it had been fragmented into Sicily, Naples, the Duchy of Milan, and the papal states in central Italy. Now, all of them were at war—and the pope, Clement V, was looking for a stronger ally. The people themselves were calling for peace, and when Henry VII declared his intent to go to Rome and become the Holy Roman Emperor as in the days of old, many of them received him as a hero. No one had been on the imperial throne since Frederick II over half a century ago, and the unity that the title of emperor had brought to the empire was desperately lacking.

No one received news of a new emperor quite so well as an aging poet named Durante di Alighiero degli Alighieri, better known by his pen name, Dante.

* * * *

A Florentine, Dante had been born around 1265 into a fairly prominent Italian family that supported the House of Welf and the papacy during the civil war in Germany. He was trained as a cavalryman to fight against the Hohenstaufens, but from the very beginning, it was obvious that Dante didn’t have the heart of a soldier. Instead, he was a hopeless romantic.

Dante was only nine years old when he fully and completely lost his heart to a beautiful young girl by the name of Beatrice Portinari. She was about his age, and they first met—or, at least, Dante first beheld her—at a May Day play at her father’s home. She wore a dress of the deepest crimson, but its color was no deeper or fierier than the passion that awoke within the young Dante at the very sight of her. Too shy to speak with her, Dante admired her from a distance. This was no ordinary childhood infatuation. Dante was truly smitten—he was obsessed with Beatrice, and he would remain so for nine long years without ever exchanging a single word with the object of his most devoted affections.

In fact, Dante and Beatrice only ever spoke once. As their fathers often did business together, the children frequently saw each other, and Beatrice knew Dante’s name, but he had always been too overwhelmed by her beauty to actually introduce himself. He was eighteen, and she seventeen, when they finally spoke for the first time. It was a matter of chance, an accidental encounter, one that probably left Beatrice none the wiser that her young neighbor was deeply besotted with her. Dante was walking along the streets of Florence when he happened to encounter her. She was walking with two older lady companions, and she wore white, imprinting herself forever on Dante’s mind as some kind of celestial being, some glowing angel. Awestruck, he gaped at her, and Beatrice recognized the young man that was staring at her so openly. She greeted him politely, with perhaps just a hint of amusement at his expression. Her greeting had a stupefying effect on Dante, one that is best described in his own words: “Indeed, I glowed with a flame of charity which moved me to forgive all who had ever injured me; and if at that moment someone had asked me a question, about anything, my only reply would have been: ‘Love,’ with a countenance clothed with humility.”

So struck was the young man by the greeting of this angelic figure, one whom his love had raised to an almost divine status in his mind, that he stumbled back home and sat down on his bed to ponder the churning of his heart toward her. His reverie led at last to sleep, and his dreams were filled with her. When he awoke, he knew he had to do something with the wonderful dream he just had. So, he wrote it down, and it was later published as La Vita Nuova, “The New Life,” Dante’s first great work and an epic love poem. Most writing at the time was still in Latin, the language of ancient Rome, but Dante could not conceive bringing his feelings for Beatrice to life in any language other than the one he’d grown up speaking. He wrote it in Italian, and it became one of the first significant works in that language.

By the time La Vita Nuova was published in 1295, Beatrice had been dead for five years, and Dante himself had been married to another woman. The truth was that his love for her would be forever unrequited. He was only twelve when he was betrothed to another woman, a marriage arranged by their families, and he would go on to have several children with her. Yet Beatrice was never far from his heart, even after her marriage to another man and subsequent death. He might never have kissed those adored lips, but that didn’t keep his heart from longing for them. La Vita Nuova was not the last of Dante’s works, and it was not the only one to feature Beatrice.

The political situation in Italy was constantly turbulent, and it would affect Dante in his own way. While he had fought on the Welf side during the civil war in Germany, Dante would soon fall out of favor with his allies, who promptly sent him off to live in exile. Retiring entirely from the political scene, Dante instead conceived and wrote the text upon which Italian literature would be built: La Divina Commedia, or “The Divine Comedy.” This epic poem would stand out as a gleaming star of medieval literature. The story plunged deep into the medieval understanding of the afterlife, taking its narrator through Hell, Purgatory, and finally to Heaven, and the narrator’s guide through Heaven was a beautiful and angelic young woman—Beatrice.

Dante spent years composing La Divina Commedia, and by the time he was writing the famous Paradiso—the cantica of Heaven—things had changed in Italy and abroad. The constant battles between the Welfs and Hohenstaufens had been brought to an end by the two Habsburg kings, and Henry VII had taken the throne, determined to make peace and unity with Italy. Delighted to see the division end that had made him an outcast from his own home, Dante was a passionate supporter of the emperor, so much so that he went into detail in the Paradiso to describe the abundant glory and rewards that would be piled upon the emperor at his own arrival in Heaven. He dubbed Henry the “King of Peace” and looked forward to living in an empire once more united under the rule of a single emperor.

Dante’s dream would only come partially true. Henry was indeed crowned Holy Roman Emperor in 1312, but he never gained the full support of the whole of Italy. Even during his coronation, parts of Rome were rebelling against him. He did, however, succeed in subduing Milan, a historically difficult city for his predecessors. Many Italian cities refused to bow down to him, including Dante’s childhood home of Florence. Henry set off to subjugate these cities to his authority through a military campaign, but he contracted malaria and died during an expedition to conquer Naples on August 24th, 1313. Dante’s “King of Peace” sadly did not wholly succeed in his mission.

Chapter 14 – The Rise of the Habsburgs

After the death of Henry VII, the electors once again chose a fairly minor figure as the next king: Louis the Bavarian. Albeit being the son of a daughter of King Rudolf I, Louis had no direct claim to the throne, but he was favored by the powerful Luxembourg family once they had failed to put King John of Bohemia—Henry VII’s son—on the throne. This was, once again, a bid to avoid allowing any single family from becoming too powerful. With the help of the Luxembourgs’ influence, Louis IV was crowned king in 1314.

Like the kings before him, Louis was focused on establishing his family and establishing favorable relations with Italy. The early part of his reign was engaged in a civil war with his own family, the Habsburgs, but once Louis had defeated the anti-king and firmly established his claim to the throne, he headed for Italy. Crowned King of Italy in Milan in 1327, he moved on toward Rome, where he clashed almost at once with the pope. John XXII had no intention of crowning Louis emperor, a problem which Louis solved by persuading an old senator to perform the coronation ceremony instead. This was the first time that a Holy Roman Emperor would be crowned against the wishes of the pope, and John was outraged. Louis and John would spend much of the rest of their lives arguing whether Louis had the right to call himself an emperor without the behest of the papacy. In fact, their ugly disagreement spread throughout much of Europe, involving France (which had just declared war on England in 1339), and it was on the brink of erupting into a full-blown war when Louis, whilst out hunting a bear in 1347, suffered a stroke and died.

His successor, much to the triumph of the Luxembourgs who had since been brought into conflict with Louis, turned out to be Charles IV, the son of John of Bohemia. Charles had lost his father at the Battle of Crécy, one of the earliest engagements of the Hundred Years’ War between France and England. King John of Bohemia had gone completely blind by then and had no business being on the battlefield. However, after failures late in his reign—he had made claims on the crown of Italy and been badly defeated by Louis and forced to surrender—John was determined to make one last valiant stand. He charged into battle and was cut down and killed in front of his son’s very eyes. John’s rule had not been easy. Many Bohemian powers saw him as nothing more than a German usurper, and he had struggled to establish his claim to the throne, even butting heads with his own wife. Princess Elizabeth had been an ambitious young firebrand of a girl when she had first married John, and matrimony had by no means tempered her spirit. Still, Charles had little involvement in all of this. He was just seven years old when he was sent to live at a relative’s court in France, where he was educated by private tutors and acquired a taste for literature and the arts.

He returned to Bohemia in 1333 with a bride in Blanche of Valois who was the cousin of King Charles IV of France, a friendship with the future French pope, Clement VI, and a longing for the city where he had been born. Prague, the capital of Bohemia (and of the modern-day Czech Republic, where Charles is still revered as a hero), was the city that he loved. After his return to France to watch his father die in the Battle of Crécy in 1346, Charles had become King of Bohemia. The same year, he was elected King of Germany—and, thus, King of the Romans, a title denoting a claim to the imperial throne. His friendship with Clement VI smoothed his route to imperial power, and he was crowned Holy Roman Emperor in 1355 with little resistance.

Apart from turning Prague into the capital of the empire and making the city a center not only for the administration of the empire but also for arts and culture, Charles also took steps to make the election of kings a more structured and disciplined affair, using the Golden Bull of 1356.

The Golden Bull was a work of peace and harmony between Charles, the papacy, and the princes—both ecclesiastical and secular—who had been charged with the procedure of electing the next king. Instead of pouring all of his efforts into getting his son onto the throne like his predecessors, Charles wished to make the election process fairer and more streamlined for the sake of the empire. The bull would form the basis of the constitution of the Holy Roman Empire for four centuries to come. It detailed the election process, moderated the relations of the empire with its neighbors (including the papacy and Bohemia itself), and specifically named the princes that would form the seven Electors. These were three clergymen (the Archbishops of Cologne, Mainz, and Trier) and four secular rulers (the King of Bohemia, the Duke of Saxony-Wittenberg, the Count Palatine of the Rhine, and the Margrave of Brandenburg).

Charles presided over more than thirty years of peace, stability, and prosperity throughout the Holy Roman Empire. He was a man of vision and vigor who achieved what some of his predecessors had only dreamed of—seeing his own son on the throne. After his death in 1378, his son Wenceslaus IV became king of Germany until his deposition in 1400. A member of the Wittelsbach family, Rupert of the Palatinate, succeeded him as king of Germany until his death in 1410. Neither of these men was crowned emperor, so the Holy Roman Empire was once again without a leader for almost half a century, despite the best efforts of Charles IV.

Europe was now starting to move out of the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance. Forward-thinking rulers like Charles had already started to see a turn away from the dark, bloody medieval era and toward a time of art, literature, and philosophy. The very idea of what the Holy Roman Empire was supposed to be was rapidly changing at the same time as the general psyche of the world was changing. In the medieval time, the vision of the emperors, popes, and other key figures in the empire had been to unite the whole of Europe under one church and one empire. However, thinkers such as Chaucer and Dante had already started to swing the world into a different time. The rise of humanism, a philosophy placing mankind at the center of the universe and celebrating human achievement above all else, was starting to sap the wholehearted faithfulness of the general populace to the Roman Catholic Church.

It was 1433 before another Holy Roman Emperor would be crowned, and when Sigismund of Luxembourg took the throne, the empire was a very different beast than the one that his father, Charles IV, had governed in the previous century. His rule would be brief, and both he and his successor, Frederick III of Habsburg, were not as focused on expanding the borders of the empire as their predecessors had been. Both were crowned Holy Roman Emperor, but the sound of that title had lost its almighty ring. It seemed to be little more than symbolic. For the Habsburgs, however, it was a sign of power, and one that they were bent to hold on to as the next twelve kings of Germany would be from the Habsburg family.

Despite the chaos in the papacy in 1409 and 1410 as three different claimants battled it out for the papal throne, relations between the papacy and the empire remained fairly stable ever since the rule of Charles IV. Much discussion took place between the papacy and the emperors of the 15th century as the concept of the Holy Roman Empire was contested and redefined in the light of a world that was getting ready to receive genius minds such as Leonardo da Vinci and Galileo Galilei. Frederick III, the successor of Sigismund, caused more harm than good as he attempted to manipulate his dukes into supporting him in a war on Hungary; the Holy Roman Empire was on the brink of falling apart. Finally, in 1495 under the rule of Frederick’s son, Maximilian I (like the others, a Habsburg emperor descended from Albert I), the Imperial Diet was established. This gathering of nobles established a whole new set of reforms that built upon the Golden Bull to redefine the Holy Roman Empire and its role in European politics. When Maximilian died in 1519, he left the empire far stronger than it had been before his reign.

Maximilian was nothing, however, in comparison with his grandson and successor, Charles V, one of the most powerful men of his time.

Chapter 15 – The Reformation

Charles V was born with the most royal of noble blood in his veins. The son of Philip I, King of Castile, and his wife, Joanna the Mad, Charles had nothing but royalty for grandparents. On his father’s side, he was the grandson of Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I. And his mother, though she was mentally ill, was the offspring of Isabella I and Ferdinand II. They were the rich, powerful co-rulers of Spain before Philip came to power, and they were best known for financing an extraordinary expedition that was meant to find India but discovered the vast New World instead—the voyage of Christopher Columbus.

By the time Charles was born in the year 1500, Spain had already staked its claim on the New World. However, its young crown prince would soon find himself ruling over far more than he could have ever expected. He was only six years old when his father died, and he was sent to live with his aunt, the regent of the Netherlands; after his father’s death, he became the duke of Burgundy and began to rule over the Netherlands after he came of age. And only one year after Charles began ruling the Netherlands directly—in 1516—Ferdinand II of Spain died. His death catapulted Spain into chaos. Joanna had been their sole surviving heir, and while she was still alive, her illness made her unfit to rule, although some historians do believe that those who wanted her power exaggerated these claims. Whatever the case, this left her son Charles as having the only legitimate claim to the throne. The teenager found himself crowned king of Spain in 1516, a country which he had never visited and that spoke a language he could barely understand. Nonetheless, his coronation united Aragon and Castile into the single country of Spain for the first time.

For the next two years, the Spanish were considerably discontented with their young king. This did not deter the Electors in Germany, however; he was still the grandson of Maximilian, and he would make a powerful and dangerous enemy of Germany unless, of course, he was elected king himself. After the death of Maximilian in 1519, Charles was elected to the throne of Germany in the following year and crowned Holy Roman Emperor a decade later.

Thus, Charles became the ruler of an empire that stretched across Europe but also had claims in the New World. Charles’ lands included parts of modern-day Spain, Belgium, Germany, the Czech Republic, the Netherlands, Hungary, Italy, Sicily, Austria, and also Peru and Mexico. It was a tremendous empire, but its ruler was young and unproven. Only nineteen years old, Charles had never seen real battle. He had grown up without a kingly father figure to guide him, and he had a reputation for being a womanizer and a drunkard already, even going so far as to spurn the fine wines that seemed more suitable for a royal palate in favor of beer.

And soon, a great seismic shift in the mentality of the world would bring Charles up against his first real opponent. But this opponent would not be some angry warlord bent on wreaking havoc on Charles’ mighty empire. Instead, this opponent would attack the very foundation upon which the Holy Roman Empire had been built: Roman Catholicism.

* * * *

The fact that Martin Luther would be the Roman Catholic Church’s greatest opponent was a little ironic considering that he himself was an Augustinian monk, a part of the Catholic order.

Becoming a monk had not been young Martin’s plan from the start. Despite the fact that both of his parents were lowborn, his father had been a successful miner in their hometown in Saxony and had sent little Martin off to school when he was only seven. His father’s hope was for his son to have an easier life by working at an easier job—being a lawyer was far cushier than the struggles that his father experienced in mining. Throughout his adolescence, Martin proved to be a devoted student and studied subjects such as metaphysics, logic, and rhetoric. However, he always felt a pull toward subjects that dealt with far fewer tangible topics; theology and philosophy attracted him, and his father had a hard time trying to keep Martin focused on law instead of theology. Nonetheless, Martin, like any other student, was more focused on carousing with his friends than the great questions of the universe.

When he was 21 years old, circumstance finally forced his hand. Legend has it that he was on his way back to the University of Erfurt, where he had been studying, after visiting his parents when black clouds began to churn in the moody sky above him. Martin quickened his pace, hoping to get back to the university before the storm broke, but the howling wind was a deadly portent of a storm that was gathering might. Trees bent and whipped in the strong summer wind, the first stinging drops of rain began to lash Martin’s neck and back, and he broke into a run, trying not to let his panic overtake him.

The first thunderclap shook the sky, sounding as though the world was being ripped in half by vengeful, giant hands. Blinding lightning filled Martin’s world; he held his breath, petrified, his feet splashing on the soaked earth as he bolted. A panicking prayer threaded through his mind as he ran.

The next thunderclap was right on top of him. Lightning roared through the sky, and there was a terrible crack followed by a burst of impact. The lightning struck the earth so close to Martin that he was thrown into the air. Slamming down into the mud, rain pelting his face, Martin had never been so terrified in all of his life. His thoughts flew to the words his father spoke anytime he was in trouble or danger.

“Saint Anne!” he cried out in terror, invoking the name of the patron saint of miners, whom his devout father had deeply worshiped. “Save me, and I will become a monk!”

According to Martin Luther’s account, the storm almost instantaneously cleared. A shaken young Martin made his way back to Erfurt, frightened but unhurt. And he knew that he had just made a promise to a divine entity—a promise that he intended to keep.

True to his word, Martin joined St. Augustine’s Monastery in Erfurt on July 17th, 1505. He devoted himself wholeheartedly to monastic life, studying the ancient Christian texts and constantly meditating on the Scriptures. In fact, Martin was an utterly exemplary Roman Catholic monk—except that what he found in the Scriptures did not agree with what he was seeing in the Catholic Church at that time. While many modern-day Catholicism traditions have endured unchanged for nearly two thousand years, the medieval Catholic Church was weighed down by its leaders’ passion for worldly power. Pope after pope had proven to be more tempted by power than by any moral standard, and this had resulted in some of the Church’s traditions being, in Martin Luther’s eyes, directly contradictory to what he was reading in the Scriptures themselves.

For twelve years, Martin stayed quietly in the monastery, devoting himself to translating the Scriptures into the common language spoken in the area at the time. This drew some angry attention from the leaders of the Church. By preventing commoners from reading the Scriptures for themselves, the leaders of the Church had been protecting their sinful ways from questioning eyes, and Martin was ripping down the curtain for all of the world to see what he believed to be the divine truth. Undaunted, Martin had only just started. He became a lecturer at Wittenberg University, educating the masses on the Scriptures he’d been studying.

It was in 1517 that Martin finally made his great move. He marched up to the door of Castle Church in Wittenberg, near the university where he was teaching, and nailed a painstakingly written document to its door. The document was his Ninety-Five Theses, and they called into question many of the ecclesiastical traditions that Martin saw as being incorrect. And in doing so, the young monk started a movement that was to turn the whole of Europe upside down.

The Renaissance was in full effect at this time. Questioning thinkers were changing the face of religion, philosophy, art, and science. A rise in education, in comparison to the Middle Ages, had left the common man concerned with more than just where his next meal was coming from. The time was ripe for a change, and a greater change than the Protestant Reformation could hardly be conceived.

The Reformation quickly gained power after the publication of Luther’s Theses. The printing press, still a new invention, allowed for the mass production of pamphlets and books; the Bible could now be reproduced quickly and cheaply enough to place in the hands of the men on the street, instead of being a handwritten manuscript given only to Church leaders. Word of what Luther had said spread like wildfire, and general access to the Scriptures lent weight to his affirmations.

Considering that Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, vested much of his power in the fact that he had been crowned emperor by the leader of the Catholic Church, he immediately recognized the fact that Luther and his wild ideas were a direct threat. Two years after ascending to the imperial throne and four years after the publication of the Ninety-Five Theses, Charles called an Imperial Diet to deal with Luther and his ideas.

The pope had hitherto attempted to deal with Luther. Reviewing the Theses, he—surprisingly enough—agreed with the majority of them; however, he condemned 41 out of the 95 and issued a bull demanding that Luther should recant what he wrote. Rebelling against his own spiritual authority (Luther was still a monk), Luther burned the bull and refused to recant a single thing. Pope Leo X then turned to his powerful ally, Charles V, for help.

When the Diet of Worms convened on April 18th, 1521, Luther was brought before Charles and the Electors, arguably the most powerful politicians in the known world at the time. Some of his many books were laid out before him, and he confessed that they were his. When asked to repudiate them, however, Luther was undaunted by the full might of one of the most powerful monarchs in Europe. Charles’ titles and power failed to intimidate him; Luther calmly declared that unless he could be persuaded, using Scripture or logic, that any of his theories were incorrect, he would not repudiate them. His words had the assembled archbishops and princes in an uproar.

A little over a month later, Charles issued the Edict of Worms, which labeled Luther as a heretic and an enemy of the state. Pope Leo ceremoniously burned Luther’s books, and with that, open war was declared on Protestantism. Unfortunately for Charles, this failed to stop the Reformation; other key players such as John Calvin and even the English king Henry VIII were starting to undermine the Catholic Church’s authority, and Charles’ dreams of a united empire under a united Church were dashed.

Through the rest of Charles’ reign, Protestants would be relentlessly persecuted. Sick and overwhelmed by the sheer mass of his empire, Charles would eventually divide the empire among his kinsfolk and abdicate in 1556 (although he began the abdication process of his territories slowly, beginning in 1554). In the last years of his reign, when he had already bowed out of most of his political responsibilities, Charles would witness the Counter-Reformation, in which the Catholic Church finally responded to the rising tide of Protestantism by becoming more educated, enlightened, and spiritual, closer to its modern identity. In 1555, after nearly forty years of persecution and thirty years of inter-religious warfare, Charles finally gave up on stopping the Reformation. Protestants would finally be given the freedom to worship in their own way; the Peace of Augsburg, a treaty between Charles and a military league of Lutherans, would allow rulers to officially declare their states to be Protestant if they wished.

Having seen his dreams fail, Charles lived out the last two years of his life plagued by health problems. He spent his last years peacefully gardening and shooting pigeons in a secluded home near a Catholic monastery and died in 1558.

It was perhaps a good thing that Charles did not live to see what would become of his beloved empire, as The Thirty Years’ War was about to wreak havoc in Europe.

Chapter 16 – Eight Million Dead

Illustration V: A 1526 portrait of Martin Luther, the catalyst of the Reformation that would lead to the Thirty Years’ War

Prague Castle, once the center of art and culture so deeply loved by Charles IV, towered majestically over the rest of the city. Bohemia, at the time, was the brightest jewel in the imperial crown; rich with natural resources, it flowed with abundance, bringing great riches to the imperial treasury. And Prague Castle was the proud expression of Bohemia’s prosperity. Its towering spires and regal vaulted halls held all the magnificence that befitted a key part of the Holy Roman Empire. Its many windows sparkled in the sunlight of May 23rd, 1618, right on the threshold of another glorious Bohemian summer.

But all was not well within the halls of Prague Castle. In fact, there was shouting from inside—angry shouting. The yelling escalated to a desperate pitch, and then there was a communal roar of rage from within the stately hall on the first floor. With a shuddering thump, a window was thrown wide open. Screams of protest sounded from inside, and the next moment, a government official in regal garb was catapulted out of the window. He smacked into the pavement beside the castle and rolled to his feet, ashen-faced with indignation but largely unhurt. A moment later, to his fury, his colleague was similarly expelled from the castle and tossed out onto the pavement.

Neither of them was seriously injured, but as they limped back to some safer accommodations, they were both outraged. Little did they know that their outrage would spark one of the most terrible wars in the history of mankind.

* * * *

The Peace of Augsburg was Charles’ attempt to make peace with the Protestants, but its aftereffects would usher in one of the deadliest wars in history. Charles turned power over to his eldest son and his younger brother when he abdicated. His son, Philip II, was given control over Spain, its new imperial possessions, Burgundy, the Netherlands, and the Italian holdings. Charles’ younger brother, Ferdinand, who had already ruled Austria, Bohemia, Croatia, Royal Hungary, and Germany for decades in Charles V’s name, naturally assumed full control of the countries. He was crowned Ferdinand I and started a precedent that would be followed by the next three emperors and usher in sixty years of peace in Germany: he didn’t bother the Protestants, and they didn’t bother him. While Catholicism remained the royal religion and the papacy remained fairly powerful, Ferdinand I was willing to make compromises with the Protestants. Thus, despite deep divisions in the religions of the empire, war was kept at bay.

Ferdinand’s son, Maximilian II, and his sons, Rudolf II and Matthias, followed a similar policy to their father. Rudolf, however, proved to be a poor ruler in other ways. He was sickly both mentally and physically; more of a philosopher than a religious man, he mostly avoided the question of the religious conflict, albeit issuing the Letter of Majesty, guaranteeing religious freedom to his subjects. Under him, the people grew restless and rebellious, and pockets of religious violence sprang up throughout his empire. His brother, Matthias, quietly took over much of the administration and was quickly crowned after Rudolf’s death in 1612, but it was too late. War was imminent.

Matthias’ seven years of rule ended with his death in 1619 at the age of 62, and his cousin, Ferdinand II, took over. Ferdinand was disgusted by the presence of Protestantism. He held an almost medieval vision of one great empire, united in one religion and serving one single ruler—and that ruler, of course, would be himself. He wished to be the most powerful man alive and to follow in the footsteps of Charlemagne and Frederick Barbarossa. But the time for the great warrior kings of old, united with their popes to go on Crusades and glorify the empire, was long gone. In fact, the Holy Roman Empire as it had been then was gone too; now, the emperor was governing a series of largely independent states and countries, some of them growing perilously in power. The time of Protestantism had come, and Ferdinand hated it with all of his heart, especially considering that many of those independent states were Protestant. As soon as he had obtained the throne, he went against everything his predecessors—from Charles V to Matthias—had said and banned Protestantism throughout the empire.

The two men so unceremoniously thrown out of Prague Castle were a pair of Roman Catholic government officials named William Slavata and Jaroslav Martinic. They had just endured a trial against them that would never have been allowed by their emperor, considering that they had been upholding his new laws. Upon reaching Prague, the two officials had discovered that two new Protestant churches were being built, an act that would have been perfectly legal under Rudolf II’s Letter of Majesty. But now that Ferdinand had abolished Protestantism, it was against the law. The officials tried to put a stop to the building of the churches and were seized by Prague authorities, who were determined to hold onto their religious freedom. They threw the two officials from the windows of the castle and sent them home with their tails between their legs, an act that would become known as the Defenestration of Prague.

Tragically, the rest of the war would not be so innocuous—or borderline humorous—as the Defenestration was. In fact, it would kill about eight times more people than the American Civil War, and in thirty years, it would decimate the Holy Roman Empire and change the face of Europe.

The war began as an uprising in Bohemia as the northern Protestant states sought to shake off the oppressive chains of the empire. Ferdinand, enraged, could hardly believe the insolence of the Bohemians and briskly sent an army to crush them; in the next twenty years of his reign, however, the emperor would learn that the Bohemians were not the only ones unhappy with his determination to keep the empire Catholic. Soon, a great variety of European powers joined the Protestant cause, from Ottoman Turks to England to Sweden. Even the French, Catholic though they were, wanted to make a stand against the empire.

By the time Ferdinand died peacefully in 1637, his empire was ripped to pieces by war. Spain fought on the side of the Habsburgs, for whom the conflict had changed from a religious thing to a desperate attempt to maintain control of some power. They were continually forced back toward Austria as more and more countries joined the bid for religious freedom (and for a piece of the empire's territories). Meanwhile, famine blossomed horrifically throughout the empire, killing millions; a plague of typhus swept on its heels through the war-torn continent, taking many lives.

By the time the Peace of Westphalia was signed in 1648, Europe had endured an estimated eight million deaths (some estimates go as high as over eleven million). For perspective, the entire population of the Kingdom of Bohemia at the start of the 17th century had been less than two million people.

The Peace of Westphalia finally put an end to the terrible war. A pair of treaties signed in May and October 1648 were negotiated between Ferdinand’s successor, Ferdinand III, and his opponents, including France and Sweden. It not only permitted more religious freedom in a similar manner to the Peace of Augsburg, but it was also of tremendous historical importance. The Peace of Westphalia is often considered to be the beginning of the modern era, as well as forming a template for later nation-states, including those governed by today’s United Nations. It also dealt with internal affairs of the Holy Roman Empire, albeit granting its nation-states more independence, and added an eighth representative to the Imperial Council of Electors.

After the Thirty Years’ War, the Holy Roman Empire was not only less in control of its nation-states, but it also had fewer of them. Switzerland and the Netherlands left the empire entirely, and the war’s devastating effect on Spain left it far less powerful. The empire’s problems were also not over; a threat from outside its borders was growing larger and larger. The Ottoman Turks, having taken over the Byzantine Empire, were looking to enlarge their borders to the west. The reign of Ferdinand III’s successor, Leopold I, was concentrated largely on holding back the empire’s eastern counterpart. It was only in 1683 at the Battle of Vienna that the imperial army, led by the King of Poland, finally drove back the Turks with such force that the Ottoman Empire no longer expanded into Europe.

Unlike the Ottoman Empire, which would survive until 1922, the Holy Roman Empire didn’t have much time left. Its glorious victory against the Turks would soon turn out to be a swansong.

Chapter 17 – The Dissolution

The end of the Thirty Years’ War dragged the Holy Roman Empire, a very medieval concept, kicking and screaming into the modern period. Sadly, for the once-mighty empire, modernity would not suit it well. Its decline would continue throughout the last century of its existence.

With the Turks driven back to their empire in 1683, Emperor Leopold I—who had fled Vienna in terror during the siege—was free to concentrate on his home country: Austria. Once a duchy of Germany, it emerged from the Thirty Years’ War as one of the greatest European powers. He left the empire to his son, Joseph I, an Austrian Habsburg who was reformation-minded but unable to affect much change due to the brevity of his reign: he only ruled from 1705 to his youthful death from smallpox in 1711. He died without an heir, leaving the throne to his brother, Charles VI. While the Council of Electors was still officially in charge of choosing the kings of Germany and emperors of the Holy Roman Empire, the title had, by this point, become basically hereditary within the Habsburg family.

Charles VI’s reign would last considerably longer than his ill-fated brother’s. Ruling until 1740, he would spend much of his reign defending the imperial throne—and his claim to the Spanish one—against the French, who had remained enemies of the Holy Roman Empire ever since the Thirty Years’ War. Despite his long marriage to Elisabeth Christine of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, Charles VI feared that he would die without a male heir due to the death of his only son and thus issued the Pragmatic Sanction of 1713. This sanction allowed females to inherit the imperial title, and it proved to be necessary, as Charles VI died in 1740 with two daughters and no surviving sons. His eldest daughter, Maria Theresa, became the last pure Habsburg to sit on the throne of the Holy Roman Empire and its first Habsburg empress. She had married Francis of Lorraine in 1736, who became Emperor Francis I, and thus, the Habsburg line ended, and the imperial family became known as the Habsburg-Lorraines.

Wars of succession had plagued the empire for decades, and Maria Theresa’s inheritance of the Holy Roman Empire triggered yet another: The War of the Austrian Succession. Involving multiple European powers, this bloody war raged until 1748 and further weakened the already half-crippled Holy Roman Empire.

Maria Theresa’s son, Joseph II, was determined to bring reformation to the lumbering wreck of what had once been a mighty empire. During the 25 years of his reign, 15 of which he co-ruled with his mother, Joseph instituted tremendous reformations. He overhauled the entire legal system, and in doing so, he rid the empire of cruel or brutal punishments, emancipated the serfs that had been serving in a feudal capacity since the Middle Ages, made elementary education compulsory for all children, and was a fierce advocate of religious tolerance. He was hugely unpopular with the weakened Catholic Church—once an institution so powerful that it made emperors walk barefoot over the Alps in repentance—by stripping away much of its authority and forcing reforms and modernization upon it. The heyday of the old Church was gone, a fact that Joseph made clear by allowing complete religious freedom for Protestants and Jews.

Unpopular though Joseph was, he forced the empire into a more progressive mindset. Despite his efforts, however, Joseph would become known as the third-to-last Holy Roman Emperor in history. After his death in 1790, his brother, Leopold II, reigned for only two years before his death and the succession of his son, Francis II. And Francis II would be the last Holy Roman Emperor ever to sit upon the imperial throne.

* * * *

Trouble was brewing across Europe, most notably in one of the bloodiest revolutions known to history: the French Revolution. In 1792, the same year as the last Holy Roman Emperor took the throne, the ugly revolution toppled the monarchy of France, all but destroyed religion in the country, and rocked Europe to its core with its radical changes and powerful violence. Stripped of its controversial monarchy, France descended into anarchy and suffered the Reign of Terror from September 1793 to July 1794, which claimed about 40,000 lives. The Revolution continued until 1799, and from it rose a man so powerful that he would do what legions of invading armies had been unable to achieve: He would topple the Holy Roman Empire.

Napoleon Bonaparte was born on the Mediterranean island of Corsica in 1769. He was only twenty years old when the French Revolution erupted in 1789 but nonetheless became one of its military leaders. In 1799, he ended the Revolution with a military coup and seized power for himself, reinstating the monarchy that he had fought so hard to abolish and placing himself not only as king but, in 1804, as emperor.

Europe wasn’t big enough for two emperors at once. Francis watched the developments unfold in France with unease as the Napoleonic Wars erupted all over the continent. Coalitions from various parts of Europe attempted to end the rampage of Napoleon, but he was unstoppable, and he planned to take over the whole of Europe. Uninterested in the New World, he sold the French territory of Louisiana to the United States in 1803 and set his sights instead on invading multiple countries, including Great Britain, Austria, and Russia. Francis II amassed an army to stand against Napoleon and fought him strenuously, but it was all for naught. At the Battle of Austerlitz in December 1805, Napoleon proved that the time of the Roman emperors was over. His time, the time of a French empire, was at hand.

Francis knew that there was little he could do to stand against his mighty opponent. In 1806, he formally abdicated from the imperial throne. The Holy Roman Empire was dissolved, and in its place, Napoleon established the Confederation of the Rhine, which effectively turned many of the nation-states of the old empire into satellite states for the French nobility.

Perhaps Francis was wise not to stand against Napoleon. The nations that did choose to stand against him during the Napoleonic Wars, which lasted between 1803 and 1815, did so at a tremendous cost. An estimate of around 3,000,000 to 6,000,000 people, both civilians and military, died during the wars, and Napoleon achieved what the Holy Roman emperors had been striving to do so for nearly a thousand years: He united Western Europe under one frightening dictator.

Nonetheless, Napoleon’s empire was a very different one from the old Holy Roman Empire. It brought much progress to Europe, including a more universal system of democracy and widespread abolition of serfdom. The medieval empire, with its larger-than-life heroes and villains, was gone for good.

Conclusion

Over the thousand years of its tumultuous history, the Holy Roman Empire had brought both unity and change to the length and breadth of Europe. Beginning with the crowning of the somewhat larger-than-life Charlemagne in 800, its emperors had varied from visionary to fearsome to just plain weird, but they all had one singular purpose: to rule over a united Europe.

And for centuries, the emperors succeeded in their goal. As the ancient Roman Empire crumbled into ashes and the Dark Ages rushed in, bringing centuries of war and darkness with them, a new power was forged from the cold bones of ancient Rome. The Holy Roman Empire would bring Europe together, preventing it from dissolving into the barbarism of tiny, warring kingdoms. For better or worse, the unity of emperor and pope preserved a culture that has since become legendary—one of holy wars and imperial knights, kings on gilded thrones, and princesses needing rescue.

From the beginning, the empire was tied to religion; thus, it may seem strange that religion, or rather the great cleft in religion that was brought about by the Reformation, contributed so much to its eventual decline. Yet it seems fitting, perhaps, that the Holy Roman Empire departed quietly into history when it did. The time of pompous papacy and hereditary leaders had come and gone. By the time the Holy Roman Empire came to its end at last, it was already something of a relic.

Yet in its heyday, the Holy Roman Empire was something magnificent. It defended the borders of Western Europe from invaders that may have left the face of history looking very different, brought together great alliances that proved to be wealthy and powerful for the good of its people, and established many years of peace in the countries that were cradled in its enveloping arms. And it brought to us, the modern-day readers, a wealth of rich characters and fascinating stories that will continue to enrapture us for generations untold.

Part 2: The Carolingian Empire

A Captivating Guide to the Carolingian Dynasty and Their Large Empire That Covered Most of Western Europe During the Reign of Charlemagne

Introduction

One of the few names to emerge from the Dark Ages to live on today is that of Charlemagne. After the fall of Rome, Western Europe was in almost complete disarray for several centuries, with different tribes and factions running different parts of the continent. Then, in 768 CE, Charles the Great, more commonly known as Charlemagne, became the ruler of the Franks.

The Carolingian Empire was an empire in much the same way as the Holy Roman Empire was—in fact, it covered most of the same parts of Europe. Charlemagne was able to build a much more coherent empire that he controlled, while the Holy Roman Empire was more of a collective of principalities that were only loosely united under the Holy Roman Emperor. However, the Holy Roman Empire lasted for more than several centuries, while the Carolingian Empire didn’t last for more than a few decades after Charlemagne’s death. Even more interesting, some historians say that the Holy Roman Empire began with Charlemagne and lasted until 1806.

While there is plenty of debate about how these two empires are connected, what is certain is how the Carolingian Empire began. Germanic tribes had used the time that they served in the Roman military to carve out their own territories once Rome fell. Then Charlemagne came to power, taking control of the Franks after his father died. Initially, he was meant to have shared control of the Frankish kingdom with his brother, but Charlemagne did not want to relinquish control or share it with anyone else. His brother stepped aside, and this gave Charlemagne all of the power he needed to expand the kingdom well beyond what his father had controlled.

Just when the empire began is also debatable. Some historians put the beginning of the Carolingian Empire at around 800 CE, while others put it closer to 751 CE. The discrepancies stem (at least in part) from what is considered to be an empire. Charlemagne took over the Frankish kingdom in 768, so in 751, the region was still under the control of his father, and numerous kingdoms still covered the areas that eventually became part of the Carolingian Empire. Pope Leo III declared Charlemagne emperor on December 25, 800, which is why this date is sometimes cited as the beginning of the empire.

The reason that Charlemagne’s name has remained so familiar despite more than a millennium since his death is because of the long-term effect his time as emperor had over Western Europe. After uniting a large swath of Western Europe under his control, Charlemagne divided the regions into 52 distinct areas, each of which was run by a count. These counts were not left to run their respective areas without oversight, though, with missi dominici assigned to ensure that those in power did not abuse their rules.

Charlemagne did continue the system founded under Charles Martel (or Charles the Hammer), which ensured a class structure that favored the wealthy few. However, unlike the Romans, he wanted as many of the people as possible in his domain to be literate, even bringing in one of the most notable scholars of the time to start instructing others. He himself did not learn how to read and write until later in his life. Although many people know about him because of his military prowess, Charlemagne was actually a very capable and progressive leader. The unity that he established was accompanied by changes to several different systems, which made it easier for people across his empire to feel like a part of something much larger than their small Germanic tribes. One of the biggest changes he made was to the currency, dropping the gold standard for silver currency. While he did keep the class structure established by Martel, Charlemagne gave peasants some control over their own lives, loosening how much power the nobles had over them. This mostly related to their ability to participate in commerce, but it was still more control over their lives than they had previously experienced. Just like he had done with the counts, Charlemagne ensured that the nobles were not abusing their powers, creating a legal system that was designed more to help all of the people in his domain and not just the nobles and those in power.

Following Charlemagne’s death in 814, his only surviving son, Louis, became the sole ruler of Western Europe. Like his father, Louis was very dedicated to his religion, and he came to be known as Louis the Pious. Unfortunately, he was not nearly as capable as his father, and he was deposed by his own sons. Their own infighting led to Louis being reinstated, but it signaled the beginning of the end for the empire that Charlemagne had created. Following Louis’ death, the Carolingian Empire was divided between his three surviving sons, and they spent much of their time fighting each other for more control. The three divisions of Western Europe were not entirely equal, and the middle realm was ultimately absorbed by the western and eastern regions over time. Eventually, the majority of these two regions became modern-day France and Germany. By 888, most historians agree that the Carolingian Empire had ended.

One of the reasons why so many people have a difficult time distinguishing between the Carolingian Empire and the Holy Roman Empire (with some historians citing Charlemagne as the first Holy Roman Emperor) is because many of the changes that he implemented remained in place even after the Renaissance. Much of what he established helped to pull Western Europe out of the disjointed, chaotic systems that arose after Rome fell. Despite the disintegration of the Carolingian Empire within 100 years of its start, it laid the foundation for the rise of many of the nations that would play prominent roles in the early modern era.

Chapter 1 – A Quick Overview

There has never been another empire that could rival the Roman Empire in Europe The Carolingian Empire was the closest that Europe ever came to having another true empire, but it failed because there was no adequate replacement for its founder, Charlemagne. Once he died, his son attempted to keep the lands together, but Charlemagne’s grandchildren ultimately tore it apart in a bid to have more power and control.

There are many aspects of the empire that are entirely up for debate, including the dates of when it rose and fell. Depending on which historian you talk to, there is about a 50-year range for the date of when the empire started. Some put the start of the empire at around 751, though most historians put the official start date of the empire at 800. One of the primary reasons for the debate on when exactly the empire started is because Charlemagne actually inherited a fairly good foundation for his empire from his grandfather, Charles Martel, also known as Charles the Hammer. Charles had spent much of his reign bringing surrounding areas into his domain, though it was only when the Umayyad Caliphate began to push into the neighboring territory of the Duke of Aquitaine, Odo the Great, that Charles Martel was finally able to incorporate the southern region into his kingdom.

Europe under Charles Martel

(Source: https://imgix.albert.io/user-assets/jelacqua/0423240b-70f5-4735-8a96-442b693bf1cc-1024px-Frankish_Empire_481_to_814-en.svg.png?ixjsv=2.2.4&w=1)

There are many differences between Charles Martel and his grandson, Charlemagne. Charles Martel did not have the same religious zeal that Charlemagne had, although they both provided assistance to popes. Charles Martel did not appear to have the same kind of ambition as Charlemagne either, though it was his work that served as the foundation for Charlemagne’s starting point. Martel was not guaranteed to inherit control over the region, while Charlemagne was nearly guaranteed to have at least joint role with his brother. They had very different struggles as well. Martel turned the tides against the invading Umayyad Caliphate 100 years after their prophet Muhammad died. The Muslims were eventually pushed out of Spain and Portugal because of Martel’s actions. He also began the feudal system across his kingdom. Charlemagne spent much of his time implementing changes within his kingdom as he expanded it. Learning was something that he felt was incredibly important, and he sought to improve the lives of his people, although he did not get rid of the feudal system established by his grandfather.

When Charlemagne was born, the kingdom was divided, so he did not inherit the kingdom exactly as it had been when Martel died. It had been divided up and merged back together several times between the two rulers. As was the tradition at the time, rulers split the kingdom up among their surviving sons, but the kingdom was often reunited because of a death or abdication. This was still a problem even when Charlemagne ascended to power because he had a younger brother whom his father had left half of the kingdom to. Unfortunately, this tradition did not end after Charlemagne, and it proved to be one of the ultimate reasons for the decline of the Carolingian Empire.

It is even debatable that it was an empire. The person who bestowed that title on Charlemagne was Pope Leo III, and he didn’t exactly have the authority or the approval to do that. This caused a rift with the Byzantine Empire, which was the spiritual successor to the Roman Empire (the people of the Byzantine Empire still considered themselves Romans because this region had the second capital of the former empire). These problems would not be resolved either; rather, they became exacerbated by Charlemagne’s strong personality. He was very devout, and he had an incredible love for the members of his family, even to the detriment of the kingdom. He ended an engagement between one of his daughters and the emperor of Constantinople because he didn’t want her to live so far from him. This shows that not all of his decisions were based on what was best for the empire.

Charlemagne was given the title of emperor and was crowned by Pope Leo III on Christmas Day of 800 CE. This is why many historians consider this to be the starting date of the empire. Prior to this time, the region was still considered to be a kingdom. However, this move was not based on any power that the pope actually held over any of the realms. At best, he was a spiritual leader only. It was an enormous overreach by the pope to declare Charlemagne’s kingdom to be an empire and for him to bestow such a lofty title because the Byzantine Empire was still trying to bring Western Europe back under its rule. What the pope did was to claim powers over the secular world and religious world that had never been established before as being part of the pope’s powers. It would be similar to the current pope owing Germany a favor and declaring their ruler to be the emperor over much of Europe.

The pope’s declaration didn’t give Charlemagne any major new territory; it was largely just a title he bestowed because Charlemagne had saved his life and restored him to the papacy. However, it set up a dangerous precedent that plagued Western Europe long after Charlemagne’s death as it implied that the emperor had control even over the Christian Church, which was certainly not what Pope Leo III had intended. Otto I eventually saved a pope’s life, Pope John XVII, and received a similar bestowment of the title of emperor long after the Carolingian Empire had ended. He pushed much further than Charlemagne and took the power to remove the pope when the religious leader did not agree with him. None of these possibilities were considered during the time of Charlemagne because he was devout and believed firmly in the power of the Christian Church over the lives of the people. He saw himself more as the leader of the secular world, and it was this aspect that he tried to improve in the lives of his subjects.

At its height, the Carolingian Empire covered a large swath of Western Europe. It did not include the modern-day United Kingdom, Ireland, Spain, or Portugal, but it did stretch to southern France and across modern-day Germany and Austria. It definitely did not rival the Roman Empire at its height, but it is certainly more than almost any other ruler has accomplished. Only Napoleon managed to create an empire that could rival the size of the Carolingian Empire, though neither Charlemagne nor Napoleon would create an empire as large as the Romans.

(Source: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/0b/Europe_and_the_Near_East_at_476_AD.png/1920px-Europe_and_the_Near_East_at_476_AD.png)

(Source: https://www.worldmapsonline.com/images/Cram/History/europedeathcharlemagne.jpg)

When Charlemagne died in early 814, the empire was still intact, but this did not last long. He only had one surviving son, Louis, to take over his empire. Louis came to be known as Louis the Pious because he was even more devout than his father. He strove to improve the lives of his subjects, but his ability to control the empire was not nearly as strong as his father’s abilities. This was seen long before Louis’ death (in 840) when his sons rose up against him and forced his abdication. Instead of trying to rule though, they ended up fighting against each other, and after a year, their people were ready to have Louis the Pious returned to the position of emperor. This was just a preview of what was to come, though. Despite having seen the damaging tendencies of his sons while he was alive, Louis still divided his kingdom into thirds, giving different territories to each of his surviving sons. The empire had largely remained intact under Louis, but this did not last under the control of his sons. By 888, the empire was completely gone, with the western and eastern portions absorbing the middle third into themselves. These two halves eventually became France and the Holy Roman Empire (including modern-day Germany).

(Source: https://www.shorthistory.org/images/Verdun-Treaty843.jpg)

This book will treat 800 CE as the beginning of the Carolingian Empire, but it will cover the decades leading up to the founding of the empire. Because of the importance of this empire in the shaping of modern-day Europe, the book will also cover what happened after the empire fell apart up until the founding of the Holy Roman Empire. Some historians do consider Charlemagne to be the first Holy Roman Emperor, but this book will treat the Carolingian Empire and the Holy Roman Empire as two separate empires because there was a long period of time when Western Europe was divided into many different states under a number of different men in power. There was no real emperor for a long period of time either, and it was only when another pope declared a new emperor that the Holy Roman Empire really had its start. This empire was certainly based in much of the same area as the Carolingian Empire had been, but it clearly did not include modern-day France, which is where Charlemagne’s empire began. Similar to how Charlemagne took over from Martel, Otto I took the reins based in part on the foundation of what someone had built before him. However, like Martel, Otto I had far less territory in the beginning than Charlemagne. It was through conquest that he gained his position as emperor.

Neither the Carolingian Empire nor the Holy Roman Empire was the traditional type of an empire—neither declaration of these empires was made by anyone with the authority to make such a declaration. The Roman Empire and the Byzantine Empire were based on the power and authority of laws and rules, and the emperors gained their throne through traditional means. The Carolingian Empire, at its height, was certainly a much more coherent collective than the Holy Roman Empire, which is what made it possible for Charlemagne to implement so many different systems, but those systems clearly did not ensure the continuation of the unity that Western Europe felt during his reign.

Chapter 2 – The World After Rome

The fall of Rome was like the fall of many of the other empires and civilizations that came before it (and many that followed after). It was never a matter of if the city would fall, but when it would. Civilizations always go through periods of growth and then experience a slow decline. It doesn’t happen all at once, and even the end of the power of Rome didn’t happen overnight. The sacking of Rome wasn’t the end of the empire because there was still an emperor for a while longer. When the city was attacked, it simply sped up its decline instead of allowing it to continue to languish and deteriorate. The fall of the city sent shockwaves across the continent, but the farther from the city that people lived, the less obvious the effects of the loss of Rome were. Some places were even happy to see the end of the Romans in their domain.

Signs of the End of Rome

One of the major signs that Rome was no longer the powerhouse that it had once been was seen in the decay of the city and the lack of maintenance of the realm that had been employed at the empire’s height. The people in power were more like vultures picking apart the languishing empire than actual rulers. There were a few good leaders in the last 100 years or so, but they were in the minority. Infighting mirrored that of the end of the Roman Republic a few hundred years earlier that ended with Julius Caesar taking control and largely removing the senators from power. Several hundred years later, the people of Rome had forgotten the lessons of the decline of the Roman Republic, and so, they were doomed to repeat it.

As people sought to fulfill their own petty ambitions, the extensive control of the empire steadily slipped away. Rome’s inability to provide for the people on the outskirts of their empire would actually be the catalyst for the attacks that would be the poignant beginning of the end for ancient Rome.

There were several warning signs that should have let the Romans know that they were going down a path to destruction. Men like Nero and Caligula are still remembered today for their indifference to the people and their wild demands. Allowing men like that to remain in power helped to destroy the empire because it shook the people’s faith in Rome. They were a symptom, though, and not the cause for the fall.

Underestimating the Enemy

The Romans suffered from the same kind of hubris that they warned others about. Believing blindly in their own invincibility, they didn’t think that it would be possible for anyone to successfully attack their city. Whenever there were signs of trouble, the people in power would pull back their military to protect the core of the empire, leaving the people in the outlying territories vulnerable to attack. This was against the agreements that Rome had established with those territories when they had either negotiated control or taken it through conquest. To the people in Rome, the people of these far regions were little to no threat because they were unsophisticated and uneducated. It seemed ridiculous to consider them a threat.

In the early days, the Roman emperors were adept military men who had helped to conquer most of the continent. Over time, the rulers became more like pampered brats who did not understand the importance of keeping their agreements with the people they ruled. Providing the necessary supplies and assistance during times of trouble would have meant less money for the rulers to use on their personal projects and whims.

However, perhaps the most critical error as a result of ignorance was in their belief that the populations in the lands under their control were uneducated and lacked the kind of training that the people of Rome and its surrounding areas had. The reality was that many of the men who lived in those regions had served in the Roman military, fighting for the empire They were not only educated, but they were incredibly well trained in the tactics used by the Roman military. Many of the Roman officers came from these areas, some because of their awe for the Roman military’s abilities and others because they just wanted to serve the empire. They were loyal to the Roman Empire and had certain expectations of what the empire would provide.

When Rome did not meet their obligations, faith in the empire began to crumble in the outer regions. This came to a head when the Huns began to encroach on the Gothic territory. Seeking protection from the Roman Empire, the leader of the Goths, Fritigern, sent a request to the emperor that his people be allowed to settle on Roman lands so that they would have Roman protection. Emperor Valens appeared to ignore the request because the number of Goths seeking security was more than he believed the Roman Empire could sustain. Again, Fritigern wrote to the emperor, imploring him to allow the Goths to occupy the lands because of the imminent threat posed by the Huns. And again, the emperor did not respond.

As winter neared, the Goths knew that they were running out of time to occupy a new land and still have time to plant and harvest crops before winter fell. They began to panic, and their leader was no longer able to accept the silence from Emperor Valens. Though Valens was trying to learn more about the people seeking his protection, he should have sent some kind of response back. His lack of understanding of the situation coupled with his own distance from the threat blinded him to the dangers he was making for himself and Rome by ignoring such a large population of people who had previously been on good terms with Rome. Unwilling to continue to wait, the Goths settled in the territory without approval from the emperor.

The result was the Battle of Hadrianopolis (also called Adrianople) in 378 CE. The Goths vastly outnumbered the Romans, and the encounter went about as could be expected. With an estimated 10,000 to 20,000 Roman soldiers killed, Rome lost about two-thirds of their military. Emperor Valens also died during this encounter.

Having lost so spectacularly, the Romans had to allow the Goths to settle within their boundaries because they now had a whole different set of problems to contend with, starting with putting a new emperor in place. A tentative peace reigned, but tensions continued to boil under the surface.

Seeing their chance to take back their own areas, other unfriendly Germanic tribes began to chip away at the edges of the empire. More than 100 years before the time that historians consider to be the fall of Rome, the Roman Empire was already losing its power and lands. Rome was considerably smaller by the time it actually fell. The Battle of Hadrianopolis was just the first time where the Romans seriously underestimated their enemy.

This would be highlighted when Rome failed to meet its obligations to the Visigoths, a western tribe of the Goths. Their leader was Alaric, a man who had also served as an officer in the Roman military. He was like a living bridge between his people and the empire that he had served with distinction for years. Rome had promised him that he and his people would be allowed to settle in lands in the Balkans; however, Emperor Honorius, repeating the mistakes of the past, failed to respond to the request.

Instead of taking his people to settle the lands as the Goths had done, Alaric began to make additional demands of the emperor, the most notable being that the emperor grant Alaric’s people Roman citizenship. This would give the Visigoths benefits that were not offered to non-Romans.

Emperor Honorius finally responded with a denial of the request. Every new request was met with a denial to grant whatever Alaric requested. Just like Emperor Valens, Emperor Honorius was catastrophically underestimating his opponent.

Alaric had distinguished himself as a part of the Roman military, and he had brought the Romans’ fighting style back to his people. He knew how to command a battlefield, and more importantly, he knew how to force his opponent to surrender. As a Christian and a leader, Alaric was very rigid in his understanding of right and wrong, and in this case, it was clear to him that Rome was in the wrong. To rectify this, he was going to use what he had learned as a member of their military to force the emperor to fulfill his original promise.

It should be noted that at no time did Alaric intend to cause the fall of Rome or to eventually destroy the empire. He sought only to get what he and his people had been promised. Given his years of service, it was a grave mistake for Rome to try to renege on that promise. It was just another sign of how blind the emperors had become to their obligations.

Unwilling to sit and wait or to dishonor his service by claiming the lands, Alaric called his men to arms and marched them down to Rome. The emperor displayed an obscene lack of understanding of the situation by completely disregarding the large Visigothic army marching toward Rome. Or he did until they blocked all of the roads, causing trade to all but cease between Rome and the rest of the empire. Alaric used his knowledge of how to keep his troops motivated, organized, and under his control to utterly hobble Rome. While this happened, the incompetent Emperor Honorius was relaxing in his villa in Ravenna, the capital of the Western Roman Empire at the time which was located outside of the city.

As they controlled the roads, Alaric’s troops did not suffer during this time. They were able to trade and get supplies from the very people that they blocked from reaching the city. The people living in Rome were not so fortunate, however. Water and food began to become scarce, significantly weakening the protection of the city. And still, the emperor continued to ignore the demands of him to fulfill his promise to Alaric and his people.

Seeing no other option, Alaric and his military entered Rome in 410 CE, and they accomplished what only one other group, the Gauls, had done before. They sacked the city. It took them only three days before they left with whatever they could take with them. The only exception was that Alaric would not allow his men to remove or harm anything from the Basilicas of St. Paul and St. Peter. The 6,000 men that Emperor Honorius had finally sent didn’t stand a chance against the well-armed and well-organized army of Alaric.

Although Rome would continue to have some modicum of control over the empire for about another half-century, it was merely a shadow of its former self. The last emperor, Romulus Augustulus, was only twelve years old when he rose to his position in October 475, and he was only the emperor for a little over a year. He was mostly a puppet of his father. When the Germanic warlord Odoacer killed the emperor’s father in 476, he offered Romulus Augustulus retirement and then sent the boy away to live out the rest of his life elsewhere. Odoacer took control of the rest of the military and sent envoys to Constantinople, the other major city of the empire.

This series of events was considered to be the end of the Western Roman Empire.

Coping After the Empire Crumbled

What many people don’t realize is that the fall of Rome was not the end of the empire as the people of the time knew it, but just the loss of one of their two capitals. Western Europe did see the Roman Empire crumble, but Eastern Europe continued to prosper and thrive. This is part of the reason why calling the time the Dark Ages is incredibly inaccurate—technology and civilization continued to move forward, just not in the parts of Europe that would become developed in more recent history. In what is known today as the Byzantine Empire, there was no loss of ingenuity, culture, architecture, or anything else that people associate with the Roman Empire. However, their role was much larger than a short section can address, and there remains extensive information on that particular empire today. Chapter 4 provides an overview of how they perpetuated everything that had made Rome so influential.

Western Europe became splintered, with people who still considered themselves as being Roman taking control of their own much smaller domains. These rulers continued to use many of the same laws and principles that had been the cornerstone of the former empire. Their values were very much Roman in nature. Essentially what happened across Western Europe was an evolution that was unfettered from the decaying empire. People returned to the homes of their ancestors, no longer tied to an empire that had become increasingly less responsive to their needs.

The reconfiguration of the lands that had been a part of the empire naturally saw a lot of wars as different peoples tried to claim their ancestral lands back, take advantage of the power vacuum, or to establish something more beneficial for their people. For these people, life changed significantly.

For about 90% of the population, though, there was no real change. Peasants and slaves did not see any real change in their daily lives. The skirmishes and battles for control clearly harmed them, but this was likely not too much different than the same skirmishes and battles that occurred during the decline of the empire. Life was not any harsher or easier than it had been before the last emperor retired. For all of the beauty and progress made by Rome, it was really only a small percentage of the population that benefited from it. The Romans had also been incredibly cruel to anyone who tried to upset the system that benefited the small minority of the populace since the Roman elite kept the rest of the empire under their thumb. Their blind belief that things would stay the same caused the mistakes that would ultimately hurt them the most. The Germanic tribes that they had looked down on and fed to wild beasts in the Colosseum would get their revenge, leaving the elite dead or living in a way of life that was vastly different than before.

The most interesting changes were in the areas outside of Rome in the places that the Romans had the most difficulty taming. The small island that would one day be the foundation for a completely different kingdom, Britain, was one of the first areas that Rome had left to its own devices, even before Rome fell. The regions that would one day form the major nations of continental Europe (Spain, Portugal, France, and the Holy Roman Empire) also spent the next few hundred years fighting off invaders and began to form the early roots for what they would eventually become.

Chapter 3 – Ending a Dynasty – Pepin, Charles, and Carloman

Charles Martel had two sons, and although he kept control over his kingdom after dividing it, his sons took over control of their respective regions. Considering the fact that Martel died the same year that he divided his kingdom, it appeared to some of the territories that it was time to break away from the kingdom. Revolts became a problem for both sons, and they spent the first two years trying to keep their respective areas together. The future of the kingdom was not as tenuous as it would be after Charlemagne, in large part because one of Martel’s sons proved to be more than capable of keeping a level of unity within the kingdom while successfully defending the borders from invaders. It quickly became clear that Pepin and Carloman did not rule equally.

The Merovingian Dynasty

Between 476 and 751 CE, the Franks were ruled by members of the Merovingian dynasty. Without Rome, the Merovingian family took control of the Germanic tribe of the Franks, becoming the first ruling family in the region. Little is known about the origins of the family beyond the fact that the family name originated with Merovech, the father of Childeric I. Childeric was the tribal leader of the Salian Franks, and he was followed by Clovis I in the early 480s. Clovis I was more ambitious, and he sought to extend his power to include all of the Salian Franks, as well as either conquering or annexing territories that had been under the control of the Ripuarian Franks and the Alemanni. He conquered much of Gaul, with the major exception of Burgundy, which remained separate for several more decades.

Clovis I was the first of the Frankish kings to convert to Christianity. Sometime between 496 and 506 CE, he was baptized, and the king remained a Christian until his death in 511. He had four sons, and to each one, he left a part of his kingdom. Naturally, the sons spent much of their time fighting each other for more control over the Franks, but they also extended the kingdom beyond the borders established by their father. In 531, they finally brought Thuringia into their kingdom, and in 534, they were able to subdue Burgundy. Although they weren’t able to conquer Septimania, Bavaria, and the northern Saxon regions, the brothers did gain considerable sway in those regions. By 558, only one son remained, Chlothar I, and he became the sole ruler for the next three years. He died in 561.

After he died, the kingdom was again split into fourths, leading to the inevitable infighting that always occurs when brothers are expected to share control of a realm. The infighting came at a dangerous time for the kingdom because the tribes to the west, southeast, and east were putting pressure on the kingdom, though the fight between the brothers still seemed to be more intense than the battles with the surrounding peoples. As the pressure from the outside became more dire, though, the kingdom had to be reorganized to provide better support to the vulnerable areas. To the east, several areas were merged to make the Austrasia kingdom. To the west, areas were shifted into the Neustria kingdom, with its first capital being Soissons. To the south, Burgundy emerged as its own kingdom. These kingdoms were not merged into a single kingdom until 613 when Chlothar II inherited control of them. Chlothar left all of the kingdom to his son Dagobert I, but Dagobert divided the kingdom in 639. However, by this point, the ruler was little more than a figurehead with no real power. Two distinct realms were present, Austrasia to the northeast and Neustria and Burgundy to the southwest. Instead of the king holding power in these two realms, it was the mayors of the palace who controlled these respective areas. By the time of Charles Martel’s death, there was no clear need for the perpetuation of this dynasty.

The Immediate Aftermath After Martel’s Death

Before he died, Martel had already ensured that there would continue to be order within the kingdom. His eldest son, Pepin, was the mayor of the palace for Neustria, Burgundy, and Provence, the region that had been more recently subdued by Martel. It had been the territory of a different mayor, but Martel had defeated him to take control several decades earlier. Carloman controlled Austrasia, Alemannia, and Thuringia, regions that had been under his father’s care since Martel had wrested control away from his father’s widow.

Problems almost immediately began to arise in both regions as some saw their chance to become their own leaders instead of being loyal to Martel’s sons. Both brothers were successful in putting down the subsequent revolts, but they knew that they would need a more cohesive approach if the kingdom was going to remain united. In an effort to quell the uncertainty, they chose Childeric III to act as the leader of the Franks. As the last male member of the Merovingian dynasty, they thought he would be a better figurehead that would be more acceptable to the people. By the end of 743, Martel’s kingdom again had a single figurehead, though Childeric III’s tenure did not last long.

Pepin the Short

Carloman was not as interested in ruling his kingdom as his brother Pepin was. Rather than ruling the people in his area, Carloman was more interested in leading a pious life, and in 747, he left his position to Pepin in order to pursue a religious life. As a result, Pepin became the single figurehead of the Franks, which meant that all of the revolts and problems across the kingdom were up to him to resolve. This was not a small task considering he was now in control of the entire kingdom that Martel had established.

Besides outsiders attacking the realm and revolts from minor leaders, Pepin had to deal with other members of his family who felt that they should be the ones in power. The most notable family member to revolt against Pepin was Grifo, who was the Frankish leader’s half-brother. Pepin was able to suppress his half-brother’s revolt without too much difficulty. However, there was still a problem that Pepin had to overcome; Childeric III was still alive. Now that the two brothers were not working to rule together, there was no need for a symbolic figurehead.

Unlike his father, Charles Martel, Pepin wanted to work with the pope to establish a relationship that would benefit both him and the pope. When he wrote to Pope Zachary in 750, the pope responded by anointing him king, giving Pepin the support he needed to move against Childeric III. With more potential problems becoming certain if Childeric III remained, Pepin forced him to enter into the religious life then proclaimed himself the Frankish king in 751 CE. With the backing of Pope Zachary, Pepin, commonly known as Pepin the Short and who became Pepin III once he was crowned, was able to assume control with the appearance of divine support.

In 752, Pope Zachary died, and the next pope was Stephen II. A year later, the new pope traveled to the Frankish kingdom and remained there for nearly a year as he and the Frankish king built a stronger relationship. The Frankish kingdom had gained a lot of influence and control in Europe, so it behooved the popes to ensure they had a good relationship with the rulers. After anointing Pepin and his two sons, Charles and Carloman I, Stephen II prepared to return to Rome. To do this, he required the assistance of Pepin because the Lombards had taken control of much of modern-day Italy. Pepin drove the Lombard king, Aistulf, back to his capital, leaving the rest of the country open for plundering. Pepin and his army did not stop until Aistulf agreed to restore the Church’s lands back to the pope. When the Lombard king broke the agreement, Pepin returned in 756 and defeated him. Aistulf died in December 756, and Pope Stephen II died a few months after. The problems between the Lombards and the Church continued, however, with Pepin having to step in to help the pope.

Though Pepin helped the Church as often as he could, his own kingdom was often a problem, with revolts being a challenge in both Saxony and Bavaria. Pepin eventually died after a trip into Aquitaine in 768.

Pepin was one of the strongest leaders of the Carolingian dynasty, but he could not outshine the accomplishments of his father, Charles Martel, or his own son, Charles the Great. Pepin was far more religious than his father, and he passed down his devotion to the Church to his two sons, Charles and Carloman.

Charles Takes Control

Pepin’s eldest son, Charles, was born about eight years before Pepin became the King of the Franks. Not much is known about his early life, although it is known that he spoke Latin and that he at least had an understanding of Greek. When his father died in 768, Charles was given control of the outer portions of the empire, while his brother, Carloman I, was to control the inner portions of the kingdom. The brothers had a contentious relationship, though, and their ability to work together was often strained. Carloman was only seventeen or eighteen years old when his father died, so Charles worked to create alliances to strengthen his brother’s position against outside forces. However, this was more a way of preserving the lands than as a way of helping his brother.

The Frankish Kingdom after Pepin’s Death

(Source: https://www.alternatehistory.com/forum/proxy.php?image=http%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2Fr7RP4Wd.jpg%3F1&hash=6669f36345db113e9088b02507245817)

In an effort to build alliances with their neighbors, Charles married the Lombard king’s daughter, Desiderata. Instead of reassuring his brother, this made Carloman, as well as the pope, nervous about Charles’ intentions. Their worry proved to be unnecessary as Charles divorced this wife and married the daughter of a nobleman, Hildegard. It appears that Carloman was working with the Lombard king after this affront, but this did not bear any fruit. Carloman died in 771, just three years after his father. History has made it difficult to know what really happened to Carloman, and there are naturally stories that Charles had a hand in his brother’s death. However, most historians do not think that Charles was involved or was even aware of the problems with his brother’s health.

Not yet thirty years of age, Charles was not young but nor was he old. And his ambitions soon proved to go far beyond that of any of his predecessors.

Chapter 4 – The Conquests of Charles

When Pepin the Short died, Charles was just 26 years old, and he was almost 30 when he became the sole leader of the Frankish kingdom that had belonged to his father. He would spend nearly fifty years fighting other Germanic tribes and expanding his control over a large part of Western Europe. During his time ruling over the Franks, Charles took control over much of modern-day Germany and Italy, creating the largest kingdom or empire since the days of the Roman Empire. From the time that Charles came to power as the sole ruler in 771 until his death in 814, he would build something that eventually earned him a new name that would remain well known until the modern day.

Charles became known as Charles the Great because of his military prowess and ability to take control of regions that were notoriously difficult to subdue. Unlike the Romans, though, he sought to make the regions under his control conform to his standards and religion. With the arrival of King Charles the Great, there were more reasons to fight to the death to try to keep the old traditions and beliefs alive.

The World and Relationships Prior to Charles’ Rule

There were two regions who could pose a problem to Charles’ rule, though the people in power in one of the areas had not shown much interest in fighting Charles at the beginning of his reign due to an agreement that had been in place between the Lombards and the Franks that dated back nearly 200 years. The Saxons, on the other hand, had always been a problem, and their successful expansion did pose a potential threat to Charles and his kingdom.

The Lombards

The Lombards had established a kingdom in modern-day Italy. They were a Germanic tribe founded in Scandinavia, but they began migrating south along with many other Germanic tribes sometime between 376 and 476 CE. This period was called the Great Migration, and it saw many tribes moving into areas that had once been a part of the Roman Empire. By the 6th century, they had established themselves in a region near the tribes of the Avars and the Gepids. The Gepids had been in control of the area, but neither the Avars nor the Lombards agreed with the way the Gepids controlled the region. The resulting alliance between the two gave an advantage to the Avars when the Lombard leader, Alboin, agreed that the Avars could have control if they were able to successfully overthrow the Gepids. Unfortunately, for the Lombards, the Avars proved to be even more controlling than the Gepids had been.

Alboin had been present when the king of the Gepids was killed, and it was said that he made a cup out of the skull of the defeated leader. While the Avars gained control over the region, Alboin chose to marry the daughter of the former Gepids’ leader, Rosamund, against her wishes. As the Lombards quickly found themselves in a worse position under the Avars than they had been under the Gepids, Alboin chose to relocate them. The leaders of his military had spent time in northern Italy and recommended that area as the destination for the relocation of the Lombard tribe.

With so many of the leaders of the Lombard military having vital knowledge of northern Italy, they were able to easily take control over a large portion of the region. The Lombards left their home around 567, and by 572, they had taken and subjugated much of modern-day Italy. Alboin had more land than he could control by himself. Breaking the Lombard kingdom into 36 duchies, he assigned dukes to rule over each of them. This caused a lot of infighting, and each of the different regions developed differently. Some of the duchies had leaders who were strong, while others had weak rulers who only took care of themselves. Alboin did not pay much attention to the management of his kingdom because he was more concerned with keeping his borders secure.

With the Franks to the west and the Byzantine Empire controlling lands to the south, there was ample reason for Alboin to fear that his kingdom would fall into the hands of more powerful rulers. However, the real problem was the one he created when he married the daughter of the Gepids’ leader. Rosamund never forgave him for playing a role in her father’s death. There were rumors that Alboin had laughingly told her to spend time with her father, offering her a drink from her father’s skull. This may be no more than a story, but whether or not he did make such an offer, she certainly had justification for hating him as she had been forced to marry him against her will. She successfully planned his murder, and the Lombards soon found themselves without a ruler. Since Alboin had divided his kingdom, none of the dukes were willing to relinquish power, and many felt they should be the one to take over control of the whole kingdom. It was only when the Byzantine Empire began to pose a more immediate threat that they finally appointed a new king in 572, Cleph.

When the Franks and the Byzantine Empire formed an alliance against the Lombards in 590, the Lombard kingdom was in the danger that Alboin had feared. However, the Byzantine Empire proved to be less capable than the Franks. The Lombards found it difficult to deal with the aggressiveness of the Franks, a problem compounded when their leader, Authari, the son of Cleph, died suddenly in 590. One of Authari’s cousins, Agilulf, was quickly made king, and he immediately began trying to make peace with the Franks. This peace bought Agilulf the time he needed to focus on defeating the Byzantine Empire. Agilulf also understood that the division of the kingdom into a loose alliance of duchies was creating too many problems. He consolidated control, upsetting the dukes in the process, but they did not have any recourse to stop him.

Agilulf was able to establish a strong kingdom that would thrive until the early part of 770 when the king, Desiderius, made a mistake that would undo all of the hard work Agilulf had done to make peace with the Franks. For nearly 200 years, the Lombards and the Franks had largely remained on friendly terms—or at least, the Franks did not try to invade Lombard territories. This changed after the Lombard kings became too petty and confident that things would not change, no matter what they did to provoke the Franks.

The Saxons

The Saxons were one of the major Germanic tribes even before the fall of the Roman Empire in Western Europe. Their lands stretched throughout Northern Europe and included modern-day Denmark, the Netherlands, and Germany. Their name is derived from a type of knife called the seax that was often carried by members of their tribe. These knives were mentioned in several Roman writings that have survived until today.

During the Great Migration in the 5th century, some Saxons moved to Britain after the Romans left the island. Those who remained in mainland Europe often found themselves at odds with the Franks. Fighting was common, and the Franks would frequently take control over small portions of the Saxon territory. Over time, the Franks took over much of the Saxon territories, with Charlemagne finally taking over their territory completely. The Saxons who had gone to Britain remained strong, but those who had stayed on the mainland became part of the Frankish kingdom.

The Saxons were one of the last major tribes in Europe who refused to renounce their gods in favor of the Christian god. This proved to be a point of contention between them and King Charles, and he became even more vicious toward them than he was to nearly any other people that he attacked to expand his kingdom.

The Problem with the Lombards

The problems between the Lombards and the Franks were pretty well established, but King Charles did exacerbate the problem when he agreed to marry the daughter of the Lombard King Desiderius. He then went back on the agreement, and when his brother died, Charles took over all of his brother’s regions. This was a relief to the pope because Pepin the Short had given the pope lands after conquering parts of the Lombard territory. This was considered a gift to the papacy, and it created a miniature empire that the pope controlled within the Lombard kingdom. This obviously upset the Lombards, and they looked for ways to reclaim their lands. The anger had been simmering for a while when Charles came to the throne, but it spilled over when Charles proved unreliable in his promises.

The first time Charles campaigned against any of his neighbors was in 772. Pope Adrian I had decided that it was time to gain back lands that had been a part of the Christian Church originally. The lands were in Ravenna, which was just outside of Rome. The Lombard king Desiderius decided to take over more of the Church’s lands and continued to head to Rome.

With the Lombards becoming more aggressive, the pope sought assistance from one of the greatest defenders that he had—King Charles. Pepin had put policies in place that ensured that he and his descendants would assist the pope when the need arose. Since Pepin the Short had been devout, he had wanted to provide support against anyone who would diminish the power of the pope. Desiderius knew that he couldn’t afford to have such a powerful enemy, so he tried to claim that the pope’s charges were unfounded. King Charles sided with the pope and insisted that Desiderius should comply with the pope’s demands. Desiderius immediately said that he would never comply, which incensed the Frankish king.

In 773, King Charles marched over the Alps with his military force and drove Desiderius and the Lombards all the way back to Pavia. Once the Lombards were in Pavia, King Charles began a siege on the city, which lasted until 774. During the spring of 774, King Charles went to the pope, and he was given the title of patrician. By the time they returned to Pavia that summer, the Lombards were ready to surrender. To survive, the Lombards agreed to King Charles’ terms. 

This proved to be the beginning of Charles’ campaigns against his neighbors who didn’t agree with his ideas and religion. Having proven himself to be loyal to the pope before anyone else, there was good reason for the neighboring kingdoms and lands to be concerned. Charles had already proved that he had the same military intelligence as his father and, more importantly, the military intelligence of his grandfather, Charles Martel. This proved to be detrimental to anyone who chose to stand against him.

Saxon Wars

There were many reasons for King Charles and the Saxons to disagree. The Saxons had been a long-time problem for the Franks, proving to be just as strong and militarily intelligent as the Franks were.

In 773, King Charles began a campaign into Saxon territory. He began by taking control of the Angria lands (one of the four regions held by the Saxons), but he was not able to go farther into the territory because of the problems with the Lombards. Although Charles had begun a campaign into Saxon territory, helping the pope was his first priority. He would not be able to resume this campaign against the Saxons until 775. Technically, this would be considered his first campaign, but he did not finish it until he had already subdued the Lombards.

Charles finally finished crossing the Angria region and then continued to do battle across other Saxon territories. He was able to subdue three of the four regions, but that did not mean that the Saxons would make control of their lands be easy. In 776, Charles was forced to return to the Saxon territory because the Saxons had destroyed one of his fortresses. While Charles was able to get the region under his control again, he was not able to keep the Saxon leader, Widukind, imprisoned, and the leader was able to escape to Denmark.

In 777, Charles fully incorporated the Saxons into his kingdom, forcing them to become Christian. It was mandatory for them to accept and worship the Christian god, and so, the Saxons had to give up their own beliefs and traditions. In total, the war between Charles and the Saxons went on for 33 years, with 18 major battles. They were the biggest threat to his kingdom, and the Saxons did not immediately give up, even after being defeated in battle. Their defiance resulted in the Frankish king taking the extremely cruel action of having an estimated 4,500 Saxon prisoners executed over the course of a single day. Today, this would be treated as a war crime, and the fact that Charles did it in the name of Jesus Christ is something that many people, outside of historians, do not realize today.

Invading Muslim Territory

King Charles did something that his grandfather had not sought to do—he began pushing south into territory that had been under Muslim control in what is now southern France and northern Spain. Simply keeping the Muslims in check was not enough for the zealous Charles.

The Barcelona governor sought the Frankish king’s assistance in 777. The Umayyad Caliphate was a threat that the governor hoped Charles could finally remove from power or at least push them far enough away to not pose such a dire threat to Barcelona. The Frankish king responded in 778 by marching into what is now Spain, where his army was divided into two divisions. The first division was sent across the East Pyrenees Mountains while the second crossed the West Pyrenees in order to press the enemy from both sides. Their first success was at the Christian city of Basques, Spain. Ignoring the fact that they were Christian, the city was put under siege.

His next major victory was in Saragossa, which resulted in his military returning with a lot of spoils from this rich region. This was the beginning of the reclamation of the region that had been under Muslim control for centuries.

Unfortunately, for the Franks, they made the mistake of traveling with all of the spoils from their conquest through the Pyrenees. This should have been an obvious mistake, especially as they had no way to guard themselves while marching through the valleys with their spoils. Having upset not only the Muslim population, they had also angered the Christians, giving the two sides a reason to band together. And this was exactly what happened. The people of Basques joined with the Muslims, and they attacked the Franks in the Battle of Roncevaux Pass, destroying the entire rearguard as they made their way through the narrow paths of the mountains. King Charles’ nephew was killed during the attack.

When Charles learned of the death of his family member, he turned on the governor who had sought his help. Marching to Barcelona, Charles took the governor prisoner. He was clearly not accustomed to losing, and something so shockingly painful as the death of his nephew caused the king to act in a way that was inexcusable. Instead of accepting that his people had made a mistake, he sought a scapegoat so that he could take his pain out on someone who had honestly sought help. This should have been a warning to his allies that King Charles was not someone who could be entirely trusted if things did not go his way.

Beyond the Boundaries

The Lombards and the Saxons were the biggest potential threats and prizes for King Charles. By taking over their lands, he was able to build a much larger empire that had not been seen since Rome had ruled over Western Europe. However, this was not quite enough for King Charles. Having beaten the Lombards, Charles continued to push east into the territories that the Avars controlled.

At the beginning of the 9th century, the Frankish king had managed to take over modern-day Belgium, France, Germany, Hungary, Netherlands, and Switzerland, as well as a large portion of modern-day Austria, Italy, and Spain. Charles’ military abilities went well beyond simply being a brilliant strategist. He knew how to train his military and how to command his men. Unlike the Romans, he could not simply leave the conquered areas to function as they always had. Many of the systems that he would implement were used across his kingdom, giving the nobility and the other people in power a sense of unity.

King Charles proved during this time that he was adept at military strategy but that he was not a kind or forgiving ruler. The reputation that he has today often overlooks the horrors that he left in his wake and how he would turn on his allies when things did not go his way. He is remembered as one of the first Christian rulers, but his actions were often contrary to the teachings of Christ.

Chapter 5 – In the Name of Religion

Despite many of his actions, King Charles considered himself a Christian, and he typically tried to do the right thing, primarily where conquest was not concerned. He made many changes that benefited the people in his realm, which continues to be a large part of his legacy today. Perhaps the atrocities that he committed in the name of his religion are not discussed today because of how uncomfortable the subject might make people feel. Today, many nations do not believe that there should be an official religion, but Charlemagne did not have the same thought. He took his religion and made it the basis for government, as did many other kingdoms at the time.

Had he followed the example of the Romans, he would have found that implementing his other changes would have been a lot easier to manage. Completely destroying all of the beliefs and traditions of the conquered peoples typically works against the conquerors, as history has repeatedly proven. There are many reasons why the Carolingian Empire did not last long, but his forcing a fundamental change on the people meant that they were never fully accepting of the loss of their old ways. Essentially, Charles gave them a reason to keep fighting, and that resulted in some atrocities that cannot be excused.

Religion has been the basis for some of the world’s greatest atrocities, and many people believe that the Dark Ages was the pinnacle for this kind of behavior. It is arguable that the Middle Ages were not any worse than modern-day actions. Consider that the Inquisitions, witch hunts, the Protestant Revolution, and the Counter-Reformation were all a part of the early modern era, and genocide was used to excuse the slaughter of indigenous peoples during the 19th century and people of other religions and ideas during World War II. The Middle Ages did have the Crusades, but not many other instances stand out as being religious-driven atrocities during this time. The exception to that is what King Charles did in the name of his religion, which was done with the sanction of the pope.

This chapter does take a more critical look at the revered king of the Franks before he became Charlemagne, the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire.

A Melding of Church and State

King Charles was devout, just like his father. He did show considerable patience and tolerance of his younger brother, Carloman, which definitely reflects his Christian values. He also worked to ensure his brother’s success, though he had some very secular reasons for doing that as well.

Once Charles was the sole ruler of the Franks, the king began implementing laws and requirements that were completely based on his religion. He worked closely with the pope, even breaking a treaty with the Lombards and invading them to side with his spiritual leader.

There were many things wrong with the way Charles implemented Christian laws, in large part because he focused on the desires of the living pope instead of the teachings of Christ. When he did listen to the teachings in the Bible, he picked the parts he wanted to listen to and ignored the rest. Whenever a ruler tries to pass laws and enforce judgments based on religion, hypocrisies and inconsistencies are inevitable. Many of the abuses of the Church came about because the Frankish king placed the pope’s wishes above everyone else during this time. This proved to be more than problematic later on, though the pope lost much of his power after the fall of the Carolingian Empire. It would take some time before the pope would regain the kind of power that most people associate the pope with having during the Middle Ages and the early modern era. Much of their power came from the wealthy and powerful families that would come into being under the Holy Roman Empire as it emerged under Otto I.

The kinds of changes that Charlemagne made were extensive, and many of them were definitely for the betterment of the people. These will be covered in more detail later to illustrate how Charlemagne began many of the systems that united much of Europe, many of which were used long after the fall of the Carolingian Empire. These systems were based on Christianity and were largely positive. This chapter, however, will point out how detrimental those changes were because too often these problems are ignored by historians because there were so many positives.

Forcing His Religion on the Vanquished

As mentioned, the Frankish king was particularly brutal toward people he conquered who did not share the same religion. He was particularly vicious toward the Saxons. On the one hand, the Saxon Wars lasted over three decades, but it is difficult to blame them for not wanting to be invaded by the Franks. Their desire not to be conquered becomes even more understandable considering what he did to the Saxons after he took over most of their territory.

The contention between the Franks and the Saxons certainly wasn’t new. They had been fighting for centuries, with the Saxons constantly testing the boundaries in the years leading up to King Charles becoming the king. The Saxons had been expanding their territory for a long time, and not just with the Franks, but Charles was not willing to let them continue to try to expand into his territory. To ensure that they would not continue to be a problem, he began to push into their domain. And in his mind, one way to make sure that they did not remain a problem was to convert them to Christianity.

There were not many parts of Europe that still worshiped pagan gods, with the Scandinavian Germanic tribes being another major tribe that still had not converted to Christianity. King Charles did not really push into the Scandinavian areas, and it does not seem like they paid the Franks much attention either. This is likely the reason why Charles did not try to conquer them or attempt to convert them. Religion was not his sole motivation, as he proved when he attacked a Christian city in Spain, but he wasn’t afraid to use it when needed.

Although there are several instances of the Frankish king twisting the principles of his religion, the worst example was easily the way he treated the Saxons once he had taken control of the majority of their regions. The men that he took prisoner had the chance to survive if they opted to convert to Christianity. Those who refused were beheaded. The worst recording of this says that Charles had an estimated 4,500 prisoners executed in a single day. This appears to have had the intended effect of breaking the will of the Saxons as they did not pose any serious problems for the rest of Charlemagne’s reign.

It is perhaps ironic that by not taking on the Scandinavian tribes, Charlemagne set up the peoples along the coast for years of attacks by the Vikings. The Vikings suffered their own persecution by Christians because of their pagan religion, and they learned to pretend to be Christian whenever they were trading with Christians. The Vikings who chose to raid learned to target the Christian monasteries and churches because those were the places with the most wealth and spoils. Eventually, the Vikings converted to Christianity on their own, just as the vast majority of the European population did.

Further Fracturing with the Byzantine Empire

There were many problems that arose between Eastern and Western Europe following the fall of Rome. The fact was that much of Eastern Europe became the Byzantine Empire, and it was one of the most influential players on the world stage for nearly a millennium. They believed themselves to be the Roman Empire, despite Rome having fallen (they had been a part of the former empire, but they had different rulers), and they felt that the West was still a part of their empire. They wanted to take it back from the Germanic tribes that rose after the fall of Rome.

One of the most prominent issues with reclaiming the West was that the two sides of Europe had different beliefs when it came to their ideas of Christianity. In the Byzantine Empire, there were several heads of the Church located throughout several cities within the empire, though there was a figurehead located in their capital, Constantinople. However, in Western Europe, they believed that the pope was the rightful figurehead of the Christian Church, and they would not listen to anything any other religious leader said (at least not during the Carolingian dynasty). This was a serious point of contention between the two sides—the Byzantine Empire did not recognize the pope as the head of the Church, and the people of Western Europe did not acknowledge the Eastern leaders as being relevant to Christianity. There were other differences between the two sides, with certain beliefs being the key sticking points between the two. This eventually ended in the Great Schism in the 11th century.

The problems between Eastern and Western Christianity were compounded during the Carolingian Empire, as the next chapter details. Considering how important Charlemagne was in the West, his willingness to upset the Eastern emperor for personal gain shows that he was again willing to use religion as a tool. Charles definitely felt that the pope had the ultimate say, but he still did not have to accept the title of emperor (something that the pope had no authority to even declare). King Charles had to have known that it would create further problems with the Byzantine Empire, but he accepted the title anyway because it gave him the appearance that he made decisions with the Christian god’s blessing—at least in Western Europe. This would not be the only thing that he did to upset the East, but it is one of the things that is most well remembered.

Chapter 6 – Pope Leo III and the Founding of an Empire

In 800 CE, the Frankish king was still King Charles. He is also known today as Charles the Great, but the name that most people know this early European ruler by is Charlemagne, the name bestowed on him when he was declared an emperor by Pope Leo III. This declaration was not made based on Charles’ fitness to be an emperor but rather because the pope owed him a favor.

The Precedence

The relationship between the pope and the Frankish king actually began under Pepin the Short (Charlemagne’s father) when he proved willing to help the pope with his problems. As repayment for his support, the pope gave Pepin the Short the authority to remove King Childeric III from power and become the king himself. No pope actually had this kind of authority. The pope’s domain should have been restricted to religion; he had no domain over lands and kingdoms. This willingness to do favors for leaders in return for their support and lands proved that the Western Church was far more secular than it had been in the beginning.

By usurping the power that was once held by the Merovingian dynasty, Pepin the Short was able to establish the Carolingian dynasty. Ironically, the dynasty that he founded was of a much shorter duration than the one that he removed from power. However, it showed a very close relationship between the Franks and the papacy, which would be further defined under Pepin’s son, Charles.

The Pope’s Problem

The position of the pope was an established position that was not based on birth but on one’s ability to guide the people of the Church to live closer to their god. By the end of the 8th century, the position had often been used by some people as a way of gaining power, and some members of the families that were related to the pope felt that the position should be based on bloodlines, like a dynasty.

This became a point of contention when Pope Adrian I died on Christmas Day in 795. Adrian I had sought to keep the position of the pope and the Church independent from outside influences, growing the powers of the Church on its own and keeping both Charles the Great and the Byzantine Empire at arm’s length. He felt that the Church should be kept separate from the secular powers, something that most countries believe today. His successor, Pope Leo III, did not feel the same way, and he soon was allying himself with Charles the Great.

One of Adrian I’s relatives, Paschal, had felt that he should have been given the position of pope and the power of the papacy, so when Leo III ascended to the top position, Paschal felt like he had been cheated of his rightful position. His anger simmered for several years, only coming to light when others became upset by Leo’s obvious favoring of the Frankish king and his refusal to remove the Church from secular problems. The anger finally boiled over on April 25, 799, when conspirators attacked the pope. They felt that he was not qualified for the role and tried to both blind Leo III and remove his tongue. If the pope could not see or speak, they felt that he would have to be replaced.

Leo survived the attack and fled over the Alps to the one person he knew would provide the necessary support to put down the dissenters. It is known that the Frankish king and the pope struck a bargain, though the exact terms are not known today. Neither side would openly admit that a bargain had been struck because it would have made them both look bad; Charles appears to have only helped the pope in exchange for repayment, and the pope appears to have been willing to give away papacy rights to keep his position.

Whatever their agreement was, Charles escorted Pope Leo III back over the Alps and into Rome about three months later. A commission was established in late 800, and it quickly discredited any of the problems that the dissenters had voiced regarding the pope’s ability to properly fulfill the role. The commission then arrested the people who had accused Leo III of being unfit for the role of pope. This took care of one problem, but the growing uncertainty around the pope’s fitness for the role was not diminished. Many in Rome were confused about what would happen next, and Charles again stepped in to restore order. This time, Charles remained to witness Leo’s purging of the charges that had been leveled against him by the dissenters. Whether he meant it as an act of mercy or merely as the show of mercy, Pope Leo III spared the lives of those who had attacked them, instead banishing them, on December 23, 800.

Leo and Charlemagne had managed to establish a tentative peace, but it was clear that much of the peace was tied to Charles’ presence and willingness to back the pope. At this point, there had been no obvious benefit for the Frankish king. That changed in a matter of days.

A New, Dangerous Precedent

King Charles had another reason to be in Rome; his son, Louis, was going to be consecrated as the Frankish king at St. Peter’s Basilica. After consecrating Charles’ son, Pope Leo III crowned King Charles as the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire on December 25, 800.

This had many serious repercussions, and the benefits of such a declaration were not solely for Charles. Whether or not this was a part of the agreement for assistance is unknown, and the crowning is said to have been a surprise to the people, though it is not said whether or not Charles himself was surprised. By declaring a new emperor, the pope had not only made people forget about the humiliations he had suffered earlier in the year, but he had bestowed upon the papacy a power that it had never claimed to have before. Leo could only have benefited from such a calculated power grab. It was both revolutionary and incredibly illegal as the pope had no such authority, either within the religious construct or as a part of the European power structure. This actually proved to be an incredibly detrimental move on the part of the Church as Otto I would prove a little over 160 years later. However, Pope Leo III had no problem with making such an illegal and dubious proclamation because he knew that the new emperor would always side with him.

In addition to trying to bury his own humiliations, the pope was trying to create an empire that could combat the Byzantine Empire. Leo felt that his power should be expanded well beyond Western Europe, nor was he the last pope to believe this, which eventually resulted in the Great Schism that divided Christianity into the Roman Catholic Church and the Greek Orthodox Church. His was just one of many attempts to force Western religion on the much more structured and progressive Eastern Church. Leo’s bid failed miserably because the new emperor had no interest in trying to take control of Eastern Europe. His focus was squarely on Western Europe, which was still very fractured. For their part, the emperor and heads of Church in the East saw the rise of Charles to the position of emperor as no more than a usurpation of a role that was not his nor the pope’s to give. This was one of the biggest provocations that the West made that eventually caused the rift that permanently divided the East and the West.

Emperor Charlemagne and Pope Leo III

It is uncertain how Charlemagne felt about his new title because it did not really change the way that he ruled over his domain. He did not become more benevolent or stop his expansion into other territories, nor did it change his ideas about how his realm should be run. For all of his faults, Charlemagne was actually a largely positive figure in Western Europe because he tried to improve the lives of many of the people within his kingdom (barring the Saxons or those who opposed him). As the next chapter details, he strove to make changes to the systems so that his lands would be more just, and it is easy to see how chivalry became so popular because of the things that Charlemagne did. Many of his motives were much more honorable than the leaders who came before or after him. Clearly, he did want to expand his lands, but with the exception of the Saxons, Charlemagne did seem to honestly care about the well-being of his people.

He actively worked to curb the abuse of power by the nobles and those who controlled the lands. The fact that Charlemagne did not want to upset the Byzantine Empire is also something worth noting, as he was not interested in spreading his control into Eastern Europe. At one point, he had even agreed to a marriage between one of his daughters, Rotrude, to one of the young emperors of the Byzantine Empire, Constantine VI, but Charlemagne broke off the engagement because he could not stand the idea of not being able to see a member of his family often. None of his children were given away to leaders who would take them too far from Charlemagne’s side.

There are even numerous indications that Charlemagne did not really understand what the title meant or why it would be so offensive to the Byzantine Empire. And he certainly did not allow it to change the way he wanted to divide his kingdom after his death. The emperor did not seek any approval from the pope to split the empire into thirds among his sons. Apparently ignoring the usual way empires work, in 806, Charlemagne decided to divide it according to Frankish customs instead of picking a single ruler. In 813, following the deaths of two of his three legitimate sons, he left the empire to his only surviving legitimate son, Louis. This he did without ever consulting the pope, which would have been the proper method of determining the next ruler. But Charlemagne did not seek the pope’s approval to run his empire, so he would not have sought approval for how it would survive after he died.

Pope Leo III outlived Charlemagne. Upon the emperor’s death in 814, dissenters again rose up, knowing that Charlemagne’s son was far less willing to fight as his father had been. Seeing a chance to finally remove the pope from power, they struck against him. Leo no longer had the intimidating Charlemagne to be a foil to his show of mercy, so this time, he had the conspirators executed. He then relayed the events to the new emperor, Louis, though how the new emperor took it is not documented. The pope died a little over two years later in 816. It is said that the Church was so fearful of interference from Louis that they rushed the process of electing the new leader to get the next pope in place before the emperor could appoint one.

Because Pope Leo III had blurred the lines between the Church and the kingdoms of Europe, it opened the possibility for interference on both sides. There was no clear definition of the relationship between the pope and the emperor, although Charlemagne treated the relationship as he always had, and his son followed that example. Still, this proved to be a much bigger problem later on, and the fears of the Church for the position of pope was eventually realized. After all, their domain was meant to be in the spiritual realm and not in the secular. They could not hope to raise an army against any formidable opponent, and when the time came, they wouldn’t. This eventually gave rise to some of the worst corruption within the Church as leaders controlled the position of pope, ensuring members of their own family would become the head of the Church to further their own power and control. Under the Carolingian dynasty, the papacy was safe because they believed they were working with the pope to improve lives. They did not believe that the position of pope should be treated as a stepping stone to something more, and Charlemagne and his son never tried to use their position to exert control over the Church.

Chapter 7 – The Carolingian Renaissance – The Empire under Charlemagne

The systems that were in place under Emperor Charlemagne were the same as the ones that he had put into place when he was a king. Despite some of his rather vindictive actions, the Frankish king was a devout Christian who often strove to do the right thing, as long as the right thing did not impede the expansion of his realm. His dedication to his people was actually far ahead of his time and mirror more recent rulers from modern history than any of the men of his time.

Charlemagne was perhaps the first ruler to try to actively improve the lives of the peasants who lived in his lands. He focused on trying to educate as many people as possible, unlike the Romans, who only educated the elite. This had proved to be an incredibly detrimental move on the Romans’ part because when Rome fell, all of the elite and educated people fled to the Byzantine Empire. This was a large part of why so much of the Roman technology in the West fell into disrepair; there was no one with an adequate education to even attempt to keep the technology running. Charlemagne knew that the best way to build a kingdom—and later an empire—was to educate people and provide opportunities for improvement.

He also knew that it required more than just education. Charlemagne went on to modify the foundational systems of his empire in an effort to create the kind of world that he felt Jesus preached. From completely changing the economic system, the legal system, and political reforms, Charlemagne was able to create a legacy that ensured he had a permanent place in European and world history.

Education Wasn’t a Perk – It Was a Necessity

Not much is known of Charlemagne’s early life, but he definitely developed an admiration and respect for education and those who were educated. This admiration resulted in him taking an active role in trying to make sure that as many people could be educated as possible, regardless of their class or parentage. This brought about a time that came to be known as the Carolingian Renaissance.

There was a return to many of the classics during this time, too. When the intelligent men started the Italian Renaissance around six centuries later, they were essentially reviving the same approach to education that Charlemagne had tried to bring about during his reign. Some of the surviving literature of ancient Rome was recopied during this time and preserved so that it could be passed down through the generations. Some of the literature had made its way into the Byzantine Empire, but not everything was taken to Constantinople. This allowed for more information about the ancient Romans to be known today; without Charlemagne’s work, this information might not have been preserved.

Charlemagne wasn’t only interested in the classics, though. He tried to understand the histories and cultures of many of the regions that he conquered, including the Muslims in Spain, the Anglo-Saxons in England (though he did not conquer the island), and even the Lombards. Since the Muslims had continued to pursue the advancement of mathematics and science, contact with them helped to move Western Europe forward in areas that had largely been lost after the fall of Rome. Charlemagne’s interest in learning more about other cultures was also obvious from the people who worked with the emperor and who were in high positions, such as the Anglo-Saxon Alcuin and the Visigothic Theodulf. Charlemagne valued their services and experiences, learning what he could from them.

Charlemagne had not received much education when he was young, and he dedicated a lot of his later years to furthering his own education. He never learned how to write, but he did make a valiant effort to learn toward the end of his reign. Keeping a tablet under his pillow, Charlemagne worked on writing when he had free time, largely around bedtime.

The emperor believed that the betterment of the world required that Latin literacy be both improved and expanded across the lands. To accomplish this, instructors needed manuals to help teach Latin to people who had little to no exposure to the language. Charlemagne felt that the best way to improve life was to ensure that people could study the Christian word instead of relying on it being interpreted for them. To accomplish such a difficult task, the system for reading and copying manuscripts had to be simplified so that they could be used by more instructors. Many of the instructors who carried out the education of the people were men of the cloth because they were located all over the empire. Abbots and bishops worked to restore old monastic schools and create new places of learning so that a larger percentage of the population could have a chance at gaining an education. Curriculums were developed and textbooks created that furthered the liberal arts, keeping the literature of the ancient world alive while teaching the students about the Christian religion. More libraries were also built across Western Europe in an effort to make it easier to apply what students learned in schools.

Charlemagne’s efforts to further the education of the people in his empire provided something that Western Europe had never experienced before—opportunities for a much larger percentage of the population. Universities were one of the most notable products of the Middle Ages (though not during the Carolingian Empire), and there was a rise in the number of people seeking better opportunities for themselves. Innovation began again, resulting in better working conditions in the fields and more efficient methods of producing food. Towns began to form across Europe, starting a wealth of new kinds of occupations and giving rise to cities across the continent. These changes did not begin during the empire, but they were made possible because of Charlemagne’s efforts to provide education for more than just the members of the elite.

Moving from Gold – Major Economic Reforms

When Charlemagne came to the throne, the kingdom’s economic foundation was based on gold. Pepin the Short had been striving to make changes to the system, but he died before fully implementing the changes. Charlemagne continued the work that his father had started, completely abolishing gold as the basis for their economy. Working with an Anglo-Saxon king, Offa of Mercia, Charlemagne successfully implemented the system that Pepin had been developing prior to his death. This proved to be an effective way of boosting the economy because gold was far too rare to act as the financial basis for a growing kingdom.

Gold had not been as problematic prior to the rise of the Frankish kingdom. However, a peace brokered with the Byzantine Empire meant that Western Europe lost both Venice and Sicily as important ports for goods. Any goods that could have been traded to keep gold flowing into the kingdom was ended when they lost access to the roads that allowed them to trade with Africa.

Pepin had known that the kingdom could not sustain itself on such a scarce metal, so he had sought to establish a new system. Silver was far more plentiful, and it became the basis for the livre carolingienne standard. This standard used a pound of silver as the basis for the money system. There were two monetary units, the sous and the livre, each representing a fraction of a pound of silver. The only coin used in the empire was the denier, which was essentially a penny. As so much of Western Europe ended up being part of Charlemagne’s empire, this financial system grew across Europe, and it continued to be the monetary foundation even after the fall of the Carolingian Empire.

By 802 CE, Charlemagne had learned that he needed to take accounting into consideration because not all of the people could afford to pay taxes while others paid less than they should have based on the old accounting system. Up until the early 9th century, he had allowed the Jewish population in his kingdom to regulate money lending. As this was a practice that was considered to be immoral by many Christians, Charlemagne prohibited the practice in the empire. While Charlemagne did not allow the practice of money lending to continue in his empire, he had no problem with Judaism, often inviting people of Jewish descent to settle in his lands. He also employed several Jewish in high-profile positions, including his own physician. Charlemagne also made sure that he and his government controlled the prices of some goods to ensure that they were never too outrageous. His interest was in attracting people who were both smart with money and who could help others. He didn’t want to encourage any behavior that could potentially become problematic or predatory, but he did want to encourage financial growth within his lands.

Prior to Charlemagne, there had been a growing set of different monetary systems based in this part of Europe. Payments and trading had become increasingly more complex. With the new system, Charlemagne not only created a system that was easier to use across his expansive empire, but it also had a more stable foundation since it was based on silver.

Reforming the Church, Politics, and Legal Systems

It seems that Charlemagne was out to change all of the established systems, and he accomplished much on this front, in addition to expanding his kingdom and becoming the first ruler of a new empire. His belief in his religion was strong, and it was something he instilled in many of his children, particularly Louis, who later came to be known as Louis the Pious. But Charlemagne also believed that the Church needed to be reformed to be more meaningful for a wider group of people. He felt that the key to better governance and policy required deep spirituality. Charlemagne knew that it was essential to have a sturdy power structure within the Church to ensure its success, and that meant having more faithful and moral leaders who took up religious lives and removing those who were more selfish. He felt that paganism was a serious threat as well, as seen in the brutal way he treated the Saxons.

Charlemagne believed that he had control over the Church in his empire, and he was not afraid to exert his authority over those who were to be religious instructors. By inserting himself into the lives of the religious people in his realm, Charlemagne exacted punishment on those he felt needed it, as well as controlling the religious properties within his empire. He even went so far as to define doctrine, something that the pope did not seem to try to curb. Nor did Charlemagne face much backlash from the clergy in his empire. Some may have opposed particular actions, but they were mostly supportive because they approved of the way he sought to make the people in the empire more pious and religious.

After becoming emperor, Charlemagne did create higher expectations for himself and the administration of the empire. He began making serious political changes in the capital of his empire, Aachen, located in modern-day Germany, and these changes rippled out from there to the rest of the kingdom. These changes affected governance throughout the rest of the Middle Ages as well. It is the changes that he made to governance that is one of the primary reasons that historians laud his reign as he created a much more centralized government in order to have better control and accountability within the empire.

Charlemagne exercised complete control and the final say in judicial cases. He first began changing the legal systems in 780 CE, twenty years before he became the Holy Roman Emperor. One of the first major changes he made was to establish scabini, or legal experts. They were responsible for ensuring that the laws were both executed and followed consistently across the kingdom. There were seven scabini in each region. The judges were also held accountable, and Charlemagne banned them from accepting bribes and charged them to provide rulings based on facts. After he became emperor, Charlemagne had all of the laws written down so that they could be spread across the lands for a more effective and consistent application. They were also easier to amend and to ensure that those changes were carried out across the domain of the Carolingian Empire.

He understood that trying to administer his kingdom required assistance and people he could rely on and that it was impossible to ensure smoother governance without that. To better manage his kingdom, Charlemagne divided it into three large areas (Austrasia, Burgundy, and Neustria). Italy was divided into two sub-kingdoms, with his sons Louis and Pepin being responsible for ruling them. Bavaria was run by Governor Gerold until 796 when he died. Each of these regions was relatively autonomous. There was an annual meeting that was held sometime in the spring to verify the state of the different regions. Over time, it stopped being a way for the king to make judgments and ensuring that the laws remained the same and instead became a way for the nobility to voice their displeasure with the changes. Written laws were one way of ensuring that the political system suffered minimal disruption while removing the chance for the elite to control the direction of the empire.

A Man to Imitate

The example set by Charlemagne was definitely amplified because he ruled over such a large portion of Western Europe. Some of the best rulers to follow him adapted a lot of his methods, systems, and ideas to provide a more equal world for their subjects. Following Charlemagne’s example, many leaders wanted to see their people educated and to learn to be closer to their religion. He was the inspiration for many of the greatest rulers, both of the Middle Ages and well into the modern era. Most countries today have surpassed what Charlemagne began, with church and state being completely separated after their joining had resulted in centuries of bloodshed. Most people associate the coupling of bloodshed and religion as being at its worst during the Middle Ages, but many of the most notable atrocities were actually much more recent. Charlemagne did not live to see how religion could result in terrible violence because Christianity as a popular religion was still fairly young, and people still largely believed in “turning the other cheek” when dealing with being wronged. Obviously, this did not apply when a leader was trying to expand an empire, but there wasn’t the same drive to use religion as a basis for power as would happen in a few hundred years.

What Charlemagne accomplished was not flawless, but it was incredibly progressive for his time, much more so than what most people think of when they discuss the Middle Ages and even more so when discussing the Dark Ages (these names refer to about the same period of time, although the term Dark Ages is often used to signify that nothing progressive happened at all during this point in history). Charlemagne was the greatest ruler not only of the Dark Ages; he was also arguably much better than any major ruler for more than a millennium. He certainly was not perfect, but he did try to do the right thing and worked to ensure there was justice that did not favor any one group of people over another. Of course, women were not considered equal, nor were people of certain religions, but Charlemagne was much more open to other cultures than most other rulers throughout the first few centuries after the fall of Rome.

Chapter 8 – The Rule of Louis the Pious

Although Charlemagne seemed to be unconquerable, he was still only human, and there was no way for him to beat death. Instead of keeping the empire together, he had planned to divide his kingdom among his surviving legitimate sons, Pepin, Charles, and Louis. However, he outlived all but one of them.

Louis was devout, like his father, but he did not have the same desire to expand the empire. Instead, he wanted to focus on religion and to continue what his father had started, which earned him the name Louis the Pious. Sadly, his sons were far less altruistic than Louis. Despite his best intentions, Louis lived to see the beginning of the end of the empire, although he did not necessarily recognize it for what it was. He wanted to continue the Frankish tradition of dividing the kingdom between his legitimate sons, but this proved to be problematic even before he died.

The Death of Charlemagne

Just six years after becoming emperor, Charlemagne turned his attention to what would happen after he died. He was 64 years old in 806 CE, and he knew that he could not continue to rule indefinitely. It is said that he was still in great health at this time, but history had proved that planning for the future was important to ensure the continuation of an empire. At this time, Charlemagne had planned to divide his empire into thirds, but he had to change the plan over the next seven years when two of his three legitimate sons died. It is perhaps very ironic that he did not consider any of his illegitimate sons as potential candidates considering that Charlemagne was the grandson of an illegitimate child (it is even argued by some that Charlemagne was illegitimate himself). His grandfather, Charles Martel, was a far stronger leader than any of the other potential leaders of the Frankish kingdom when he rose to power. Perhaps if Charlemagne had focused on who would be the best fit to take over his realm instead of insisting on creating a line of succession, things might have been different, and his empire would not have crumbled within a century.

Charlemagne became somewhat pessimistic later in his life as he saw that many of his attempted changes were not progressing at a rate that was noticeable. It is perhaps unfortunate that he never knew just how influential the changes he made would be, though even then, it may not have been enough for him. Charlemagne wanted to make his empire a place that embraced and reflected Christian values. His disappointment caused him to lament that the empire did not reflect the religion that he had worked so hard to foster within it.

In 813 CE, Charlemagne began to decline in health, and at this time, he had only one remaining legitimate son. Following the Frankish tradition, Charlemagne had his son Louis crowned as a joint ruler. Of the three sons, Louis was the least aggressive, which was not exactly promising for the future of the empire. The empire had not been quiet under Charlemagne, but he had managed to keep the empire together. This became much more difficult for Louis, who was not as adept at keeping rebellious peoples together.

By this point, Louis had been the king of Aquitaine for 32 years (he was appointed to the position by his father in 781). He had learned a lot about the administration of a kingdom, which gave him valuable experience for his eventual role as emperor. As the king of Aquitaine, Louis had some experience with fighting; the Muslims were on the borders of his kingdom, and there was unrest during some of his reign. Given Charlemagne’s disastrous campaign against the Muslims in 778, Louis had learned to lead his men in some capacity, even if he did not have the same flair or skills as his father. In addition to gaining military experience, he was responsible for the management of the money and palaces in his kingdom, as well as the Church and social structure. Charlemagne had selected a wife for him in 794, Ermengarde of Hesbaye, though not much is said about how she interacted with his two children by concubines prior to their betrothal. Over the next decade, Louis and Ermengarde had five children together, and she was involved in his efforts to reform the Church within the kingdom. They formed strong bonds with some of their supporters and nobles, and these bonds proved beneficial to them in the future.

Charlemagne died in 814 CE, less than half a year after Louis was crowned joint ruler of the Holy Roman Empire. Ruling Aquitaine was not quite the same thing as ruling over an extensive empire, something that Louis had not had time to properly learn before his father’s death. As Charlemagne’s health had been in decline for the last four years of his life, there had been an increase in corruption and disobedience throughout the realm. Louis was not as well known, and now, he found himself faced with having to manage people who were already beginning to break away from the empire.

Beginning to Reform the Empire

Now in control of the Carolingian Empire, Louis sought to make the changes that his father had wanted to implement at the end of his life. His priority was to first make changes within the empire’s capital, Aachen, by removing the prostitutes who had been established in the palace. This was when hypocrisy really should have made him stop and reflect because once the prostitutes were removed from the palace, Louis had all of his sisters who had had sexual relationships before getting married (and those who were still unmarried) pack up and sent to monasteries. Considering the fact that he had fathered two children before marrying, this is clearly something that today would have received serious backlash. However, during this period (and for more than a millennium), it was acceptable to treat women in a completely different way than men, and brothers had quite a bit of say over their unmarried sisters’ lives.

During his first years as emperor, Louis did more than just crack down on the “loose” morals in the capital. He made much greater use of the legal system his father had established, issuing nearly forty diplomas, written records that were legally binding. Over the previous decade, Charlemagne had issued roughly half as many diplomas. But Louis was focused on making the empire into a true Christian empire. When Louis had ascended the throne, there were still many regions that identified more based on their ethnic group than by the Christian religion. Louis tried to establish a new foundation based on the religion that they all shared in the hopes that it would band the people together in a more meaningful way. The problems that Louis inherited when he became emperor could have been resolved by creating a single identity, and Christianity was the foundation that both Charlemagne and Louis felt was the right path forward. In his diplomas, Louis let the people who were administrating the different regions know that his vision for the empire was to have an empire that was united under the body of Christ. His ultimate vision closely mirrored what his father had wanted. To Louis, the Carolingian Empire should be the perfect amalgamation of politics, religion, and society directed by the word of the Christian god.

Louis even included a method of establishing the next rulers, a method which would align with the Frankish tradition but that kept the empire working as a whole instead of it being divided. Ultimately, this did not work, but it was his incredibly optimistic view of what was possible in 817. Based on Louis’ vision for the future, his eldest son, Lothair, would be co-emperor, reigning with Louis so that Lothair would have a better understanding of how to manage the empire than Louis had at the beginning of his reign. Louis’ other two sons, Pepin and Louis, were to take on similar roles to what Louis the Pious and his brothers had assumed during the reign of Charlemagne, with Pepin being the new king of Aquitaine and Louis the German, as he is more often called today, becoming the king of Bavaria.

The first real familial challenge to Louis’ reign occurred in 817, and Louis was prepared to show his own experience in dealing with problems. His nephew, King Bernard in Italy, tried to challenge the emperor, resulting in a sound squashing of the rebellion. Bernard was blinded as a result of his rebellion; those who joined the emperor’s nephew were exiled. Louis may not have had the same military prowess as his father, but he had learned how to manage smaller rebellions as the king of Aquitaine. In an effort to dissuade other male relatives from challenging his authority, Louis sent his three half-brothers (all illegitimate) to live in monasteries.

By 822, Louis had established himself as a competent replacement for his father, and he managed to keep a firm grasp on the empire for the first few years. Feeling that he had made enough of an impression to dissuade dissent, he began to add a new level of complexity to the position—he began to perform penance for the sins he had committed, openly displaying his own commitment to his religion. Louis wanted to prove that no one, not even an emperor, was above the laws of the Christian religion. This proved to be a deeply moving action, and even his detractors admitted that such humility was impressive. The fact that the emperor was also willing to reconcile with enemies showed just how devoted he was to forwarding the word of the Christian god. It was these acts of humility that earned him the name Louis the Pious, and it also helped him gain a reputation for being devout not only in Western Europe but in Eastern Europe as well.

An Impossible Situation

Louis’ wife died in 818, leaving him to not only manage the kingdom but his family as well. It was not a burden that his counselors thought the emperor should bear alone, so they pressed him to take a second wife. A little over a year later, he married Judith of Bavaria. She was 22 and he was 41 when he chose her to become his wife. In 823, Louis had a fourth son with his second wife, and the child was named after Louis’ father, Charles.

There were several serious problems with Louis continuing to make additional heirs. Not only had Louis already established his future plans for the empire, but his sons had already planned on the divisions that he had established and were not willing to have their roles reduced by the addition of another brother to divide the kingdom with.

The problems were not limited to just familial issues either. The promised changes to reform the empire had not gone far enough for some people, and they had been complaining that there was a lot of corruption among the nobles. It was also very difficult to manage the boundaries of the empire, stretching the emperor’s time and attention in many different, critical directions. Some of the external problems Louis was able to resolve through persuading leaders to join the Christian religion, such as the Danish king. Louis chose to be the Danish king’s godfather for the baptism, which gave them a connection that neutralized the threat from the Danes. Louis did participate in some campaigns along some of the empire’s borders. When two of his long-time supporters failed to provide him with the support he expected in Gascony, Louis removed them from power. The two men, Hugo and Matfrid, had been supporters of his and his first wife. Their removal from power was an insult, but their resentment was compounded by the fact that his second wife was trying to gain more power and control for her son.

In 830, the resentment of his sons and the people in the palace was overflowing, leading to a revolt against the emperor. His eldest sons led the revolt with the backing of Hugo and Matfrid. However, they did not blame Louis; they blamed his wife for his bad decisions. They felt that Judith’s arrival at the palace had been the reason that things had taken a bad turn, and they wanted to have her and her son removed. However, others in the palace supported the emperor and his second wife. Having a fairly accurate understanding of the relationship between the brothers, Louis’ supporters were able to easily turn the three men against each other. The people in the empire soon turned against the brothers, and Louis resumed his authority a few months after the initial coup.

If the three sons had hoped to ensure that they would not lose their positions, they could not have made a worse choice in trying to maintain the power they held by rebelling. Once he was restored to his position, Louis changed his plans for the future. Upon his death, the empire would be divided into fourths, ensuring that his youngest son would inherit his share of his father’s empire.

The next three years saw the discontentment in the empire growing, with the relationships between the three sons and their father becoming increasingly problematic. In June of 833, Louis’ eldest son, Lothair, invited his father to Alsace under the pretext of discussing their differences. However, that was a lie. Instead of discussing their differences, Lothair and his brothers, their supporters, and the current pope, Pope Gregory IV, turned on Louis. Some of the people who had supported Louis when he was king of Aquitaine joined in against Louis. Feeling that he had no other recourse with so many people against him, the emperor agreed to abdicate in favor of his sons. In addition to giving up his powers, the former emperor acknowledged his own crimes against his people. With so many important people in his life acting against him, Louis agreed to spend his time in perpetual penance to atone for the supposed crimes.

Louis’ reaction and willingness to do what it took to keep the peace, even at the cost of his position, proved to be a terrible foil against the people who had deposed him. Over the course of the next year, public opinion turned against all of the people who had forced the emperor to abdicate. The fact that the sons continued to fight among themselves, creating more problems than they had solved through their actions, did not help their cause. The increased violence around the empire was the final straw. In 834, the people demanded the restoration of Louis and his young wife and child.

This series of events showed Louis that he could not trust all of the people who had supported him in his early days and that the pope was not a reliable ally. The friends and supporters who had turned on him were punished, and Louis began to take a harsher stance against his sons and their children. When his second son, Pepin, died four years later in December 838, Louis decided that the kingdom of Aquitaine that had been under Pepin’s care would go to Charles, Louis’ fourth son. This meant ignoring the rights of his grandson, Pepin’s son, who should have inherited the lands of his father. Louis’ eldest son, Lothair, seemed to have learned his lesson and chose not to fight his father over this breach in tradition. However, Louis the German, Louis’ third son, objected to the change in power. Although his objections were ignored for a few years, Louis the German did not forget the way his father had been willing to take territories from his grandson to give to another son.

Earning Respect from a Larger Player

Louis’ trials and tribulations earned him something that his father had failed to accomplish in his time. In 839, the Byzantine emperor, Theophilos, recognized Louis’ dedication to Christianity. Their beliefs were not identical, but this did not matter to the two men. What Theophilos saw was a leader who tried to follow the core precepts of Christianity, and they developed a deep respect for each other. The Byzantine emperor even congratulated Emperor Louis for his stout belief and willingness to stick to his convictions in the face of extreme adversity.

The respect would be short-lived though as Louis died the following year, 840 CE. The problems that had plagued his reign were exacerbated once he died. He had not been a terrible leader, but Louis was not as strong or as determined as his father had been. Feeling divided between his religion and keeping the empire together, Louis was willing to sacrifice the good of the empire to keep the peace in his family. This proved to be the ultimate downfall of the Carolingian Empire.

Chapter 9 – Familial Strife and the Decay of the Empire

Chapter 8 focused more on the series of events from Louis’ perspective, but his sons were not entirely without reason to be wary of the changes he was making in the Carolingian Empire. The way he treated Pepin’s sons after his death proved that Louis would not acknowledge his grandsons’ rights if his sons died before Louis did. Unfortunately, for the three eldest brothers, their ability to work together was not much better.

Ultimately, Louis did not command the kind of respect that his father, Charlemagne, had, both within his family and within the empire. Outsiders were able to respect his actions, but the closer people were to Louis, the less satisfied they were with his choices. The perceived weaknesses of Louis were based on the reality that he was not capable of ruling the empire the way his father had.

Not Quite a Martyr, Definitely Not a Realist

Louis’ apparent acceptance of the demands of his sons and former supporters made him look like a martyr to the people. When his sons and former supporters proved that they were far less able to run the empire, Louis looked like the best man to rule the lands. The time between 823 and 835 CE came to be known as the Carolingian Civil War because Louis’ sons were constantly fighting each other and their father. Instead of resolving the problem, Louis agreed to submit to his sons until they made themselves look so bad that the people demanded Louis’ restoration. This definitely made Louis appear in a better light when it came to his faith, but it should have caused his subjects to be concerned both about his abilities to rule and about the Frankish tradition of dividing lands for his sons, which Louis seemed willing to perpetuate, despite the problems that were so obvious to everyone before his death.

The problem began with his three eldest sons by his first wife, Lothair, Pepin, and Louis, who were constantly fighting amongst themselves. Upset by their perpetual fighting, Louis the Pious decided to remove his eldest son from his seat as co-emperor in 829 CE. This gave the three brothers a reason to band together instead of continuing to fight each other. This led to their first coup in 830. Lothair left his banishment in Italy to take the position of emperor from his father. When Louis retook his position in 831, he again punished Lothair by giving Italy to his youngest son, Charles. This apparent favoritism resulted in the three eldest brothers forcing Louis to abdicate in 833. Since Lothair seemed to get the worst of the punishments, it makes sense that he did not face off against his father again after Italy had been restored to him. The last time Lothair would act against his father was in 833 CE. There was no such incentive for the other two brothers (Pepin and Louis the German), though, as time would show.

This constant jockeying for power should have been all the warning that was needed to let Louis know just how precarious a position the empire would be in if he insisted on dividing the empire between his sons. Instead of doing the right thing for the people, Louis the Pious tried to uphold a tradition that ultimately tore the empire apart. And instead of trying to be an intermediary for his sons, Louis seemed to exacerbate their problems. He did not focus on helping them see each other as members of the same family; rather, he gave them reasons to focus on what they stood to lose. While Charlemagne always seemed to find an acceptable solution for his family members, even if it meant upsetting the Byzantine Empire, he was willing to make decisions to keep his family strong and together. Louis the Pious did not inspire that same sense of familial unity, nor did he seem to facilitate a sense of family.

The Treaty of Verdun – An Unsatisfactory Solution to a Predictable Problem

When Louis died in 840 CE, there was an almost immediate war among his sons. Without his father in the way, Lothair declared that he was his father’s rightful successor. His brother Louis and his half-brother Charles had ample reasons to stand against him, and they quickly began marching against Lothair. The eldest son was not a particularly capable commander, and he could not stop the progress of his brothers.

Louis the German and Charles (known as Charles the Bald) formed an official alliance in 842 called the Oaths of Strasbourg. Their alliance declared Lothair to be incapable of managing the empire, and they drew up a new division of the empire that divided the empire between just the two of them. If Lothair lost the war against them, he would no longer have any lands. Seeing that he stood no chance to beat his allied brothers, Lothair finally agreed to discuss a peaceful end to the fighting. This peace negotiation was called the Treaty of Verdun, and it was held in 843 CE. The treaty proved to be a double-edged sword. While it resolved the immediate problem between the three brothers, it was the first major indicator that the empire was coming to an end. The three brothers divided the empire into three separate sections, with the brothers largely continuing control over the regions that they had held, but there was no longer a primary figurehead of the empire. Rather, the three brothers ruled their territories as realms to be controlled on their own.

How the Divisions Went Beyond the Brothers’ Squabbles

The way that the empire was divided actually formed the early divisions that eventually evolved into modern-day Italy, Germany, and France. Lothair became the king of Italy, Charles the Bald ruled over the land that became France, and Louis the German was the king of the lands that would one day become the foundation for the Holy Roman Empire under Otto I.

It may seem that this was little more than a continuation of the Frankish tradition of ensuring all of the leader’s sons had control over their own kingdom, but there were many problems with trying to divide such a large empire among three brothers who were almost incapable of working together for anything more than a temporary solution. The three brothers also took control of three incredibly different regions with cultures and traditions of their own—the very thing that Louis the Pious had tried to erase through a focus on religion over heritage.

The hatred between the people of these different regions again became the focus. No longer constrained to be a forced unified empire that some of the cultures had not even wanted in the first place, the people resumed the fighting and contention. It was actually the foundation for about a thousand years of European wars that were not to be resolved for any meaningful amount of time until the end of World War II.

The lands that became Italy were the least cohesive of the three realms, and Lothair had already proved that he was not a reliable or capable leader. One of the biggest problems was the Alps, as they ensured that there would always be problems in trying to create a cohesive kingdom. It wasn’t until several hundred years later that the territory finally formed into a unified Italy, and even then, there were cities and ports that resisted being absorbed, with Venice being one of the most notable.

Louis the German and Charles the Bald proved to be much more capable leaders, but they were not nearly as effective as their grandfather or great-great-grandfather had been. They continued the tradition of further dividing their kingdoms, breaking the kingdoms up into increasingly smaller regions.

When the empire was first divided, the three brothers were able to offer lands to their supporters so that they could attack each other. As the empire became kingdoms, there was increasingly less land to offer nobles for their support.

And these were just the beginning of the problems that the three brothers faced as they stopped even trying to keep the empire together as a cohesive unit. There were too many problems for them to deal with on their own, and they did not worry about the problems that the others were facing. By dividing the empire among his sons and failing to instill a sense of unity within the family, Louis the Pious all but ensured the end of the empire that Charlemagne had worked so hard to create.

Chapter 10 – The Division Effectively Ending the Empire

The difference between the Frankish tradition of dividing lands between surviving legitimate sons and what the Treaty of Verdun accomplished was that the treaty allowed the three sons to act completely independent of one another. The Frankish kingdoms had been held together with one son being responsible for ensuring that all of the Franks worked together (although this obviously did not always work as the Franks were very fragmented before the rise of Charles Martel). The three rulers who had inherited lands from Louis were supposed to work together, and given the way they had perpetually fought with one another, there really was no reason to believe that the treaty was going to stop them from continuing their struggles. And it didn’t.

Once the three brothers divided up the empire, the empire effectively ceased to exist. In name, it continued for a while longer, but there was no effort made by Lothair, Louis the German, or Charles the Bald to work together. To the contrary, Louis and Charles periodically chipped away at Lothair’s territories. Not only was his land in the middle of the empire, but he was the weakest military leader of the three. Even more problematic was the choice by these kings to further divide their lands among their sons.

The Fall of Lothair’s Kingdom

Lothair did not have the military prowess of his ancestors, which left his kingdom in a very weak position. Wanting to continue the Frankish tradition, Lothair chose to divide his already weak kingdom among his three sons. He also made the bad decision to make the division official through similar means that had resulted in the initial division of the empire. He brought his three surviving legitimate sons to sign the Treaty of Prüm on September 19, 855. Perhaps Lothair was hoping to establish a more solid division than the one that Louis the Pious had attempted, and as the co-emperor of the Carolingian Empire, Lothair likely did have a better idea of how things had gone wrong. The Treaty of Prüm assigned the realms to his sons following Lothair’s death, which happened six days after the treaty was signed. His eldest son, Louis II, became emperor, and Italy was his primary charge. The second son, Charles, was to manage the region between the Rhone River and the Alps. Lothair’s third son, Lothair II, was responsible for the northern region.

The Lands of Louis and Charles

The lands that had been given to Lothair in the Treaty of Verdun were largely broken up into the territories defined by the Treaty of Mersen in 870. These lands had been incorporated under Charles the Bald and Louis the German, so they had time to install their own forms of control over the regions that had once belonged to Lothair. Louis II was the only surviving legitimate heir to Lothair, and he was allowed to keep the small part of Lothair’s kingdom given to him under the Treaty of Prüm. This gave more lands to the two remaining sons of Louis the Pious, further diminishing the control of Lothair’s descendants, which they did not appear to fight.

Lothair may have been the weakest of Louis the Pious’ three sons, but Louis and Charles had to face their own problems, particularly with issues of inheritance. Unlike Lothair, they each only had one legitimate heir to survive them.

It appeared that the empire might again be restored when Charles the Fat was given the title of emperor in 881. He had the backing of both the pope and the nobility over his cousin, Charles the Simple. His reign as the new Carolingian emperor did not last long as he was forced to abdicate only a few years later.

Any hope for unification ended in 888 with Charles the Fat’s death. With no more legitimate descendants of Charlemagne, the empire was effectively dead. It was soon divided into five different kingdoms and two duchies. This was the earliest outline of modern-day France, Germany, and Italy.

A Problem from Within

The sons did not pay attention to one of the biggest problems that they faced, which had been growing ever since the sons had made it obvious that they were more interested in their own positions than the empire. The nobles were an insidious force that encouraged the sons to fight because it meant that they were able to gain more power and control. By supporting one brother, the nobles knew that they were taking a chance if the brother failed, but if the brother they supported succeeded, that brother would be in their debt. Considering Louis the Pious’ reputation, they knew that their punishments would not be as dire as it would have been under Charlemagne.

As Lothair, Pepin, Louis the German, and Charles the Bald battled for power, the nobles were also able to begin undermining the progress Charlemagne had made in removing corruption. As Charlemagne expanded the empire, the nobles saw it as a chance to expand their own holdings, giving them more control over larger regions. When he divided the empire to manage it better, corruption was minimized thanks to the changes he made to the legal and political systems.

Louis the Pious did not have that same motivation, and under his rule, the nobles began to feel that their potential power would begin to stagnate. If there wasn’t more land for them to control through expansion, they would have to find other means of growing their power. Louis’ sons provided the outlet they needed. Just like the four sons of Louis, the nobles had little interest in what was good for the empire—they were more interested in what they could get out of an empire that no longer had the potential to grow.

The nobles began to make terrible demands of the people who lived on their lands as well as on the royalty that they supported. Each new battle of the long civil war resulted in new demands for payment for assisting whatever side they supported. Over time, Louis and his sons no longer had any land to give the nobles, which angered the nobility who felt entitled to more land for supporting the rulers. Being told that there was no more land for them to have, the nobles turned to the lands that belonged to the Church. Since the empire’s government was not in a condition where it could protect the Church, the nobles got away with taking over those lands and enforcing their own petty rules.

It soon became apparent to the nobles that perpetually dividing their lands was no longer going to be possible. Having claimed most of the lands within the empire, there simply was nowhere else for them to establish a larger territory of their own without having to go to war with the neighboring lands. The idea of dividing the lands between their legitimate sons became untenable, so the Frankish custom was largely stopped (except by Louis the Pious and his children). Instead of dividing their lands, the nobles began to pass on control to the eldest son, leaving their other sons to find their own destinies. By this point, though, the lands had already become so fragmented that there were too many minor lords and landholders to control what land there was.

By the time that treaties were necessary to stop the fighting, the empire had already been so divided that there was no sense of a single identity. Instead of the people of the empire having a single purpose like they had before, the people of the Carolingian Empire no longer had any kind of unifying identity or purpose. Louis had a vision, but he was not able to keep his family united, let alone create a united people. He had wanted to build the empire to have an identity based on the Christian religion, but he did not have his father’s strong presence and ability to execute it. Charlemagne had focused on trying to curb corruption, but Louis did not dedicate the time and effort into keeping corruption in check. This is a common problem and is often one of the major reasons why empires and kingdoms are destroyed. Losing control of the nobles is always the sign of a declining empire, but unfortunately for Charlemagne, his son and grandsons were not strong enough to keep the nobles under control. Without a reason to work together, the nobles took whatever opportunities they could, using the distraction of the civil war to grow their own power. Louis and his sons seemed to use the nobles more as a way of distracting each other, without paying attention to the fact that the nobles were actually using this to their own advantage. Nor did the leader of the empire see the potential in the example of the nobles by keeping the lands united under a single ruler. The division of the property was a problem that the nobles realized too late to solve in a meaningful way, but had Louis’ sons adopted this method of leaving their empire to only one heir, they could have perhaps eventually reunified the Carolingian Empire.

Ironically, it wasn’t just the nobles who benefited from the rise of Charlemagne; the leaders of the Church were also able to use Charlemagne and Louis’ devotion to the pope to further their own wealth. But unlike the nobles who benefited from the civil wars, the Church suffered because the constant battles and backstabbing cut into the Church’s revenue. The Church had also relied on the support of the Carolingian rulers for generations, but they now found themselves without that staunch support after the death of Louis the Pious. The rulers after Louis the Pious could not even protect their own realms adequately, let alone help the Church. The power and control that the Church felt under Charlemagne continued to weaken over time, though their power and control did not entirely disappear. The husk of the Church would still be there in 962 CE when a new man rose to the position of emperor, Otto I.

External Pressure

Similar to the fall of Rome, the neighbors of the Carolingian Empire saw their chance to finally start chipping away at the powerful empire, especially after Louis the Pious’ death.

To the north, the Carolingians failed to stop the biggest threat to their empire. The Carolingian rulers were so caught up in their own internal struggles that they did not bother to create a naval presence, despite so much of their empire being along major water routes. This made them incredibly easy to hit, and there was no group more adept at striking like lightning than the Vikings. Unlike the Carolingian rulers, the Vikings had no desire to expand their domain. Their interest was strictly in taking whatever they could in the shortest amount of time and returning to their homes. Many of them were farmers and fishermen, and they worked at these other professions for much of the year. The Vikings were aware that monasteries and other church properties were among the richest in the empire, and that was where they often struck, stealing the gold, statues, and other valuables to help support their families back home.

To the south, the Carolingian Empire still faced the Muslims whom Charlemagne had not been able to force out from the peninsula. Without a strong leader remaining in Aquitaine, the Muslims were able to attack along the borders, taking spoils and lands where they could. To the east, the Hungarians were proving to be much more formidable for the less capable sons of Louis.

With the leaders proving too weak to defend against the constant attacks from so many different directions, the nobles began to create their own alliances and networks to protect their lands. In some places, they completely took over regions, ruling without any regard to what the crowned rulers decreed. This was when feudalism really began to grow as nobles took on more important roles in defending the remnants of the empire. By this point, the lands were too fragmented for there to be any hope of restoring the empire that Charlemagne had worked so hard to create. Just as they had after Rome fell, different regions fell back to their cultural identities and old feuds.

The Path Untraveled

It is much easier to look back over the events that led to the end of the empire and to find the flaws and faults that led to its end. With the desire for the people to be more Christian, both Charlemagne and Louis overlooked one very critical aspect of their own heritage. They continued the Frankish tradition of splitting their lands up among their legitimate sons, completely ignoring the fact that they were the grandson and great-grandson of the illegitimate Charles Martel. Martel was a much more capable leader than the legitimate sons of his father, and it was through his work that there was even a foundation for an empire. He had not shared the rule of the lands with any of his brothers, though he did try to split his kingdom up. It was perhaps fortunate that only one of his sons remained to rule after him, and it was definitely lucky that the one to survive him was as strong and capable as Pepin the Short. Both of these men proved to be capable on the battlefield and in the way they controlled their kingdom. Charlemagne followed in their footsteps and then expanded on their successes to unify Western Europe in a way that had not been seen since the fall of Rome. His focus toward the end of his life was on religion, and it was on this that Louis placed much of his focus. Though he was not as adept as his predecessors, Louis could have been a decent interim emperor if he had had one capable son who thought beyond himself. Had either Charlemagne or Louis looked at their illegitimate children as potential leaders, Europe would very likely be in a different place today. By excluding the illegitimate children from inheriting the realm, the Carolingian Empire was essentially doomed because each generation was progressively less capable after being raised without the strong drive to conquer. They were entitled, almost spoiled, and their interests were not in improving the lives of others under their rule.

Chapter 11 – Echoes of the Roman Empire – How Outside Forces Picked Apart the Carolingian Empire

The internal problems were definitely the reason why the empire fell apart, but there were outside forces that began to pick it apart before the official end of the Carolingian Empire. Unlike the Roman Empire, the fall of the Carolingian Empire was far less dramatic, with the empire mostly descending into sections instead of completely dissolving. That does not mean that their neighbors did not manage to start separating parts of the edges of the empire and incorporating little pieces into their domains. Other neighbors were more interested in taking what they could, with no interest in conquest.

In the end, the internal power struggles were what ended the Carolingian Empire because there was no outside force that could have taken out the Frankish empire in Western Europe. Any large force would have given the people of the empire a reason to band together and fight. The Byzantine Empire was in decline, and the Umayyad Caliphate had already crumbled. The Carolingian Empire might have been the next major power had they been able to establish a better method of determining the next leader.

The Effects of the Viking Strikes

The Vikings were not a new threat. Before Pope Leo III crowned Charlemagne emperor, Charlemagne had already encountered the Vikings along the coast. One of Charlemagne’s biographers, Notker the Stammerer, recorded one of those encounters. According to Notker, Charlemagne and some of his men were dining along the coast in southern Gaul when they saw ships passing along the river. Some of the men were debating what kind of merchant ships they were, but Charlemagne knew exactly what kind of ships they were looking at. The design alone gave away the fact that the sailors were Vikings. Despite trying to get on board their own ships to capture the Vikings, Charlemagne and his men were unsuccessful in catching the skilled men from the north. This upset Charlemagne, but the Vikings did not pose a serious threat to the empire.

But while the Vikings may not have posed much of a threat to Charlemagne, they did cause some problems for his descendants. Charlemagne did not attack the Danes in the same way that he had the Saxons. Instead, he attempted to negotiate with them. The Danes actually did support the Saxons through much of the 33 years where they were at war with Charlemagne, but it would have been much harder to start a war with the Danes in addition to warring with the Saxons. It wasn’t until 799 CE that the first Viking strike occurred within the Frankish kingdom. This resulted in Charlemagne forming a fleet that was meant to counter any future attacks.

By 825, the Danes were ready to establish an agreement with Louis the Pious, which was completed in October of that year. As part of the agreement, the Danes converted to Christianity, at least in name. The internal strifes between the different leaders of the Vikings made this a better option than continuing to fight with those leaders. In exchange, Louis agreed to help the Vikings who converted to Christianity regain power. Louis knew that there were risks with trusting that their conversion was sincere, but he felt it was worth the risk if the Vikings would honestly convert. It was his hope that their conversion would result in the rest of the Vikings converting to Christianity over time. Notker recorded the conversion of some of the Viking leaders and how they were treated by the Frankish nobles, who treated them more like children than as leaders. They received gifts and other items, which caused more Vikings to “convert” and then get the same items that the first converted Vikings received. This resulted in friction when the nobles and Louis ran out of clothing. One older Dane complained that the other times he had gone through with the process he had received better clothing. When they didn’t offer him better clothes, he marched off saying they could keep their god. This shows that many of the Danes were not sincere in their conversion

Louis allowed some of his men to return north as missionaries to help the Vikings better understand how to live like Christians. The Danes only began taking the Christians more seriously when Louis sent a ship as a gift. This relationship remained intact for much of Louis’ life, but it was better than what came later when his sons were in charge of the empire.

The Vikings saw their opportunity to start attacking once the empire was divided. Louis tried to teach the Vikings to be Christian, but that was not the lesson that they took from their encounter with the Franks. As the empire began to crumble, the Vikings made their way farther and farther inland into Frankish territory. By 840 CE, the Vikings had become a nearly constant threat to Paris. The divided empire was no longer able to repel them, and the gifts only placated the Vikings for so long. The Vikings eventually lay siege to Paris in 885 CE. They demanded that a tribute be paid, but that demand was rejected by the Franks.

As the Vikings laid siege to the city of Paris, disease was killing people within the city. The more dire the situation became, the more urgent it was to get word to Charles the Fat that assistance was needed. Count Odo, the Protector of Paris, went to Charles to implore for aid. Upon his return to the city, Odo was able to get back into it, but the Vikings remained outside of the city for more than half a year. Charles finally arrived with military assistance in October, but he and his army could not drive the Vikings away. After eight months, the Vikings were willing to accept the silver that the Franks offered and finally took their men away from the city in exchange for 700 pounds of silver. Charles the Fat was deposed in 887 CE, and Count Odo was his replacement. Odo was not a Carolingian, but his efforts to protect the people of Paris gained him the support of some of the Franks. He was not named emperor though, and with Charles the Fat’s death on January 13, 888, any hope for the Carolingian Empire to be reunited died as well.

The Vikings certainly did not cause the collapse of the empire. Their role was not nearly as large as that of the Germanic tribes who had sacked Rome not long before it finally fell, but it was critical in proving that the empire was no longer what it had been. The role of the Vikings was more of yet another problem that the Carolingian rulers did not know how to resolve. Their attempts at conversion and appeasement replaced the might of Charlemagne, who would not have allowed such blatant abuse of charity and who would not have had a desire to convert the Vikings. Charlemagne’s methods with other Germanic tribes were unquestionably brutal, even barbaric, but he also understood that people could not be bought to convert. Neither the method employed by Charlemagne nor the method of his son was a good way of trying to convert people to the Christian religion; however, Charlemagne’s methods did not put his kingdom at risk.

The Problem of the Lack of a Major Outside Player

Apart from the Vikings, Charlemagne defeated the vast majority of the peoples who could have impacted his kingdom and later his empire. When he finally ended the Saxon Wars, there were no other major powers in the west who were able to threaten him. Charlemagne’s desire to expand and convert people to Christianity removed all major threats, something that the Romans did not accomplish. While the Romans certainly ruled over more of Europe, they had allowed their citizens and conquered areas to remain largely unchanged. This made it easier for them to take control with less fighting. Charlemagne did not want to allow the people within his nation to have much of a say in how they were to be ruled. His insistence that his empire use the same systems throughout the lands meant that there was less of a threat from the people he conquered.

Charlemagne worked to create an identity that was more like that of the Byzantine Empire. People worked toward the same goals for the betterment of the empire. When Louis the Pious took over, he had a similar goal and published his visions for how to achieve those goals. Unfortunately, he lacked his father’s ability to unify the empire, nor did he have the same convictions about how to achieve that.

Had there been a larger enemy for Louis to face, this might not have been the problem that it became. Louis had proved during his time ruling over the western portion of the kingdom that he was a competent leader, despite not being as brilliant as his father. He had kept the borders safe and knew how to deal with problems internally on a smaller scale. It was when he was put in charge of an entire empire and had to keep the peace internally that Louis failed. An outside force would have been a great reminder to Louis, as well as his sons, that there were more important, pressing issues and that the empire was the most important. With no real foil, the empire rotted from the inside, with none of the rulers being really happy with the state of things.

Chapter 12 – Lasting Effects and Hope of Reunification

Just as the people of the Byzantine Empire did not consider themselves as being separate from the Roman Empire, even long after Rome fell, the people who lived in the Carolingian Empire probably considered themselves as still being a part of the empire. In most cases, historians look back over time periods to decide when an empire started and when it ended. It is incredibly rare for the people of a time period to be aware of this kind of major shift or the beginning and end of something so large. Empires and kingdoms often limp along for years, decades, or even centuries after major events that marked the beginning of the end (if not the end itself).

The Carolingian Empire is unique in that it really was not an empire and that it evolved into something similar again a little under a hundred years later. When Pope Leo III named Charlemagne the emperor, it was the emperor of the Holy Roman Empire and not the Carolingian Empire. The Holy Roman Empire emerged later as a kingdom that covered a much smaller portion of Europe, but the name remained the same.

The Ghost of the Holy Roman Empire

Not much is recorded about what happened during the period between the death of Charles the Fat and the rise of Otto I. Leaders took control of their own regions, and as outside forces picked at their borders, infighting kept Charlemagne’s empire from ever reforming as it once had been. Over time, the regions that had been controlled by Louis’ sons began to form their own identities, and they could not conceive of relinquishing the power they had acquired by following a single leader. The more time went by, the less likely they were to acquiesce to any demand that they unify under the same banner.

The lands certainly changed and the borders were constantly moving as different sects and groups restructured the lands based on the inheritance of the leaders’ sons and their desires to expand into the neighboring territories. That sense of belonging to an empire was entirely lost by the beginning of the 10th century.

Then a new figure arose from the land that Charlemagne had worked so hard to subjugate. Whatever his motives, Otto I became the most formidable force in Western Europe since the death of Charlemagne.

The Rise of a Saxon

Otto was born in 912 CE to a Saxon duke, Henry the Fowler. Despite being the son of a duke, there was no guarantee that Otto would assume the role of his father because, in this particular region, the leaders were chosen, meaning the role was not simply inherited. Perhaps they had learned from the debacle that led to the many civil wars within the Carolingian Empire.

Whatever the reason for this change in how an heir was chosen, Otto earned the title when he was still young. His early education was likely largely in the military, and he participated in one of his father’s campaigns into the lands of one of the neighboring Germanic tribes. Otto’s father was impressed by Otto’s skill and chose him to be the successor of the small portion of the kingdom that he controlled. This decision had to be cleared with the other nobles in the region, and they approved of the choice, making Otto the official king of Germany in 936 when his father died.

He first married when he was just eighteen years old, and he and his wife, Eadgyth (or Edith) of England, had two children together. His wife was an English noble who provided support as his roles in the kingdom shifted. Once he became the ruler, Otto moved the capital to Aachen, Germany. It isn’t certain why he did this, but considering the fact that it had been the seat of Charlemagne’s empire, it is very likely that he was indicating the future that he saw for his domain.

When his neighbors began trying to push into his land, Otto quickly taught them the reason why he had been chosen as a leader. He quickly put down all the dissenters both within and outside his realm, and he quickly began to take on others who doubted his ability. The biggest threat to his rule came from his own brothers, a problem that continued in Europe until fairly recently. Despite the fact that they were family, he was not afraid to treat them like the enemy, at least to a certain extent. Having begun to consolidate his power, Otto found that both the dukes who felt that he was taking their power and his brothers were willing to work together to try to remove him from his position.

After his coronation in 937, Otto’s half-brother, Thankmar, allied with the dukes who Otto had upset. The attempt to remove Otto resulted in a devastating loss for the people who attacked him. After all, Otto had earned his position by proving that he could dominate as a strategist (something that had benefited Charlemagne more than 100 years earlier). Thankmar died during the battle. One of the dukes was deposed, and Duke Eberhard of Franconia chose to submit to Otto’s rule. This was likely an insincere submission as Duke Eberhard soon sided with Otto’s younger brother, Henry, who tried to challenge Otto’s rule just two years later.

In 939, Henry was able to gain the backing of the king of West Francia, Louis IV. However, both dukes who sided with Henry, Duke Eberhard and Duke Gilbert of Lotharingia, died. The problem that Otto faced now was determining what to do with Henry. In what some could have interpreted as a moment of weakness, Otto forgave Henry instead of having him executed. Even more potentially problematic, Otto allowed his brother to remain by his side.

This shows that Otto had a soft spot for his family; however, this trust was not something that was necessarily earned. Henry waited just two years before leading a new rebellion against his brother. What he had learned from the first rebellion was that he could not take Otto on in a fight, so instead, he attempted to have Otto assassinated. Unfortunately for Henry, Otto learned what he was planning, and in 941, all of those who had conspired with Henry was executed. But again, Otto forgave his brother. This second act of forgiveness seems to have persuaded Henry that he would not be a better leader than Otto. In the years following this second attempt on Otto’s crown, Henry became one of his staunchest supporters. He gained more lands and power from his brother over time as repayment for his loyalty.

During 950, Otto defeated one of his primary rivals, Prince Boleslav I of Bohemia. In exchange for his life, the prince had to pay Otto tribute. In 951, Otto campaigned in the location where the Roman Empire had begun. When Adelaide, the widow of the nominal king of Italy, requested his assistance, Otto had a reason to enter Italy without being an aggressor. King Lothair II had died, and the people of Italy did not support Adelaide to fill his role as the new ruler. King Berengar II (the current king of Italy and possible murderer of King Lothair) had taken her prisoner and was holding her to try to gain control over her husband’s lands. After helping her, Otto married the widow as his wife had died six years earlier. Adelaide was willing to marry Otto because it would finally bring stability to her domain. With this single act of marriage, Otto expanded his kingdom without the wars that had been Charlemagne’s primary method of expanding his kingdom. Instead of being the aggressor who wanted to force his rule on them, Otto was the hero who offered the people the structure and stability that they had missed since their king died.

Otto would experience some of the same problems as Louis the Pious, with his son, Liudolf, turning against him. Liudolf worked with other Germanic leaders to try to overthrow his father back home while Otto was in Italy. For the first time in his life, Otto was facing a family member who posed a real threat to his throne. His son had learned a lot from his father about how to fight, and he had become quite adept at it. The problem was that Liudolf did not know as much about ruling as his father, nor did he have as good an understanding of their neighbors as Otto did, giving Otto a large advantage. What Liudolf did not realize was that the Magyars (one of the neighboring tribes which likely descended from the infamous Attila hordes) was very aggressive and constantly watched for the opportunity to attack. Otto knew how difficult it would be to beat his son in a fight back home, so he simply let the Magyars do much of the work for him. Otto was able to make his move in 954 when the Magyars invaded. Liudolf could not take on both forces at the same time, and he finally chose to submit to his father in 955. Again in full control of his home, Otto quickly defended his lands from the Magyars during the Battle of Lechfeld. The defeat was so destructive to the Magyars that they avoided attacking this region in the future.

Like Charlemagne

Much of what Otto I had done seemed to have been inspired by Charlemagne—an inspiration that many leaders would follow during much of European history. Otto certainly faced a lot more problems than Charlemagne, with internal and external strife being a regular part of what he had to deal with throughout his entire reign. But he was able to overcome these problems and continue to expand his kingdom. Despite not being a religious man, Otto did show a kind of mercy (although he seemed to extend it primarily to members of his family) that was not obvious under Charlemagne. This was perhaps why he was able to forge a unity that continued even after his demise.

Having seen other empires and kingdoms crumble (and having been the person to bring about the end to some of them), Otto knew that he needed to establish a succession that would be able to keep his work intact after his death. In 961, he chose the son that he had with Adelaide to be his successor. This son was also named Otto, and when his father decided that he would be the next to rule over the realm, he was only six years old. To ensure that no one would question his decision, Otto held elections to legitimize his choice. When his chosen son was elected to be his successor, the elder Otto had him crowned to become a joint ruler. Perhaps the biggest problem with this was that there was no certainty that the younger Otto would be a capable leader.

Despite the problems with choosing such a young successor, Otto felt that his empire was secure, and he returned to Italy to face the latest round of problems that King Berengar II was causing. Like Charlemagne, Otto was willing to help the pope in his time of need. The fact that it was King Berengar II who posed the threat likely made it an easy choice for Otto, who was not nearly so dedicated to Christianity as Charlemagne was. In return for Otto’s support, Pope John XII followed the precedent set by Pope Leo III and crowned Otto as Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire on February 2, 962. He then used the Privilegium Ottonianum to dictate the relationship that would exist between the new emperor and the pope. This act would prove to be a mistake because Otto’s support was almost purely secular. Any threat to his rule was unacceptable, even if the person posing the threat was the pope. When the pope realized his mistake, he made himself a target of Otto’s ire when he tried to curb the emperor’s power. In response, Otto did something that would have been unthinkable to Charlemagne—he had the pope removed from power. Instead of letting the cardinals and other heads of the Church determine the next pope, Otto placed his own choice in the position, selecting Pope Leo VIII. This didn’t work out well as the pope Otto chose died in 965. Otto next chose John XIII, a figure who was already widely disliked among the leaders of the Church. The revolt against Otto’s choice was almost immediate, and he was again forced to return to Italy to put down another revolt.

Realizing that Italy was going to continue to be a problem, Otto I chose to remain in this region of his empire for several years to more quickly counter the issues that kept coming up. The continued presence of Otto I in Italy drastically reduced the number of people who were willing to stand against him. Perhaps bored by the lack of activity after he chose to stay, or perhaps because he saw an opportunity to possibly extend his domain even farther, Otto I traveled east into lands under Byzantine control, although he had no success in expanding his realm during these expeditions.

In the last years of his life, Otto knew that more needed to be done to secure his legacy. He had seen how Charlemagne’s empire had crumbled, and he wanted to ensure that did not happen to his own. He arranged a marriage between his son, Otto, and Theophanu (either the niece or the daughter of the emperor of the Byzantine Empire) in 972. Instead of defeating the Byzantine Empire through fighting, Otto was going to have his son marry into their family, solidifying a more stable alliance that he hoped would help his son in retaining his position. The next year, in 973, Otto I died.

He would be much more successful at establishing his empire than Charlemagne. It wasn’t nearly as large as what Charlemagne had ruled over, but this might have worked in Otto’s favor because it was easier to unify. The Holy Roman Empire would become one of the dominant powers in Europe that lasted into the early modern era.

Conclusion

The Carolingian Empire was a very short-lived unification of a large swath of Western Europe. It saw the return of many of the lands that had been held by the Romans again under a single banner for a very brief period of time.

Because of how short-lived it was, the beginning and end dates are debated by historians. Some historians credit Charles Martel and his son Pepin the Short for their roles in helping to build such a strong foundation for Charlemagne to use to expand his power. Charles Martel probably could have gone farther into modern-day Spain, but he chose to keep his kingdom the size that it was because he wanted to establish a strong foundation. His son, Pepin the Short, used that foundation to become the first of the Carolingian dynasty, though he was not its first emperor. His work to secure the borders and to spread Christianity were woven into the way that he ruled over the kingdom, a lesson that his son Charlemagne took to heart. Although many people have not heard of Pepin the Short, he was a strong leader who set the stage for his son to be far more successful. 

Charlemagne was able to take the tools and the kingdom and extend them well beyond what could have been imagined since the Western Roman Empire had crumbled. He not only expanded the reach of the Frankish kingdom, but he also revived the power of the Western Christian Church. Some of his tactics were definitely not Christian in nature, with his treatment of the Saxons being particularly barbaric. However, the relationship between the Franks and the Saxons had always been contentious. Charlemagne may have felt that if he did not subdue the Saxons, then they would never stop causing problems for him. He did not force conversion to Christianity on all of the people in his kingdom, as Charlemagne encouraged members of the Jewish faith to become a part of his kingdom. Following the example of Jesus Christ, Charlemagne did strive to make his kingdom as close to those teachings as possible; it just does not seem that this benevolence stretched to the Saxons.

Even more important than stretching his kingdom across so much of Western Europe were the changes that he implemented. Charlemagne wanted to reduce and eliminate corruption, and he expected the people under him to prioritize doing away with corruption across his empire. He didn’t just focus on the legal system and administration of his kingdom either. With the flow of gold into the empire being reduced by troubles with the Byzantine Empire, he completely changed the financial structure to ensure that the empire remained stable. Charlemagne wasn’t perfect, but he really cared about the people, and many of the changes he made moved Western Europe forward by leaps and bounds.

Charlemagne’s successor, Louis the Pious, was not nearly as skilled as Charlemagne, and his desire to be more Christian compromised the empire. Had one of his sons been more like Charlemagne or even like Pepin the Short, the empire could have survived for far longer than it did. The mix of Frankish tradition and a focus on the spiritual over the needs of the people created too much internal strife, which was compounded by the lack of proper focus of his sons. Early in the rule of Louis the Pious, the seeds of the problems that destroyed the empire were sown.

Although the Carolingian Empire did not last long—less than a century by many historians’ accounts—the influence that it had on Western Europe is still obvious today. Most of the credit goes to Charlemagne because he was both a brilliant military strategist and a visionary. He was the first to believe that education should be available to as many people as possible, and he realized how detrimental corruption was in government leaders. Many of the systems that he implemented came to be the basis for the governments of the nations that rose after his empire fell. The regions that were used to divide the lands among his grandsons would eventually become the rough outlines for the countries that modern-day readers know now.

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Illustration I: By Photo: Myrabella / Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8645438

Illustration II: By Eduard Schwoiser https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Schwoiser_Heinrich_vor_Canossa.jpg

Illustration III: By Hermann Wislicenus (1825-1899). Original uploader was James Steakley at de.wikipedia - Transferred from de.wikipedia to Commons. by James Steakley using CommonsHelper. Original text : Ernst Schubert, Stätten sächsischer Kaiser (Leipzig 1990) S. 223., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6887378

Illustration IV: By Karelj - Own work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15105900

Illustration V: By Lucas Cranach the Elder - 1./2. Unknown3. The Bridgeman Art Library, Object 41801, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=475854