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The Conflict between Frederick Barbarossa and Henry the Lion
Ryan M. Renfro
Single Honours Mediaeval History
January 2001
This work analyzes the conflict between Holy Roman Emperor
Frederick Barbarossa and his most powerful vassal, Duke Henry the
Lion of Saxony and Bavaria. It examines their meeting at
Chiavenna and other factors leading to the famous trial of the
duke, finding that Henry’s fall was the result both of his
refusal to continue the cooperation between himself and the
emperor as well as his aggressive lordship in Saxony. It
also finds that the duke’s fall was not a great watershed in
German history in which the old tribal stem duchy was replaced by
the Heerschildordnung, but instead merely a step in a
number of long-term processes. Lastly it seeks to place the
trial against Henry the Lion within the European context of the
time, comparing it with King John’s loss of Normandy to
Philip Augustus as another case of an over-mighty vassal
chastised by royal justice.
The castle Hohenschwangau stands before the Bavarian Alps, a crossroads between function and fantasy, history and legend. Its walls are embossed with legends the like of Lohengrin and heroes such as Charlemagne – the very essence of the romantic medieval past. Among its many images stand two paintings: one of the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa kneeling before Henry the Lion, duke of Bavaria and Saxony, in humble request of aid, and a second with Henry prostrated before his lord Frederick. But did these events really occur as ingrained in popular memory? While Henry’s submission to Frederick certainly did occur, the emperor’s humiliation before the Lion may owe more to legend than to fact.
Relations between the cousins had not always been troubled, the
two working in friendship and cooperation until the late 1170s.
Frederick approved Henry’s claim to Bavaria and turned a
blind eye on his abuses in Saxony. In return, Henry
supported his lord in Italy and kept the eastern marches under
control. The situation changed, however, when Henry became
increasingly unwilling to support Frederick’s endeavors in
Italy. Perhaps personally angered by Henry’s refusal
for aid at Chiavenna, Frederick would no longer hold back the
tide of opposition created by Henry’s maltreatment of the
Saxon nobility. By refusing to appear before
Frederick’s court, Henry was found contumacious and deprived
of his duchies. Although it was ultimately Henry’s
follies that made his trial and deposition the only prudent
measures for Frederick, the emperor surely gained in prestige, if
not in possessions, by the proceedings against the duke. In
that respect, the fall of Henry the Lion mirrors the loss of
Normandy by King John of England: just as Philip Augustus would
do some twenty years later, Frederick used royal justice and
local opposition to deal with an over-mighty vassal.
Elected in 1152, Frederick was the chosen heir of Conrad III, the first Hohenstaufen emperor. Conrad selected his nephew before his son, also named Frederick, because of his mature age and position between Germany’s two mightiest families, the Welfs and Hohenstaufens. In order to secure his election, Frederick needed the support of Conrad’s rivals: his uncle Welf VI, his cousin Henry the Lion, and the duke of Zähringen. Frederick bound Welf VI to his plans in Italy and ensured his support for him as emperor by confirming him with the Duchy of Spoleto, the margraviate of Tuscany, the Matildine lands, and other lands in Italy. The duke of Zähringen likewise received claims to upper Burgundy and Provence.[1] Receiving Henry’s support would prove more difficult, however, due to his claim to the duchy of Bavaria.
Henry the Lion’s father, Henry the Proud, was the duke of Bavaria and Saxony and had died fighting to recover the Bavaria. He had lost it in a conflict with Conrad III, who deposed him and conferred the duchy upon Henry Jasomirgott. Following Henry the Proud’s death, a settlement was reached between the Welfs and the crown when Henry the Lion renounced his claim to Bavaria and his mother married the new duke, Henry Jasomirgott.[2] The harmony, however, was not to last. Henry the Lion requested the return of Bavaria in 1147 following the death of his mother. Conrad, preparing for crusade, put off the decision and did not resolve it before his death. By 1150, Henry was pushing for his birthright, designating himself Heinricus Leo dux Bawariae et Saxoniae.[3] Frederick, who had promised Bavaria to Henry before his election, held diets at Würzburg in 1152 and again at Goslar in 1154, where he found for Henry by default when Jasomirgott did not appear. It was not until June 1156 that Jasomirgott relinquished control of Bavaria when he secured the march of Austria, previously part of Bavaria, as a new duchy with special rights known as privilegicum minus.[4] This compromise, recorded by Otto von Freising as “prized… more highly than the successes of all his other undertakings”, was the first instance of Barbarossa splitting a duchy for political purposes and it would not be the last. [5]
Helmold of Bosau, a Saxon chronicler of the time, attributes Frederick’s decision to hand Bavaria to Henry to the fact that “he had plainly seen that the duke was faithful in the Italian expedition and in other affairs of the realm.”[6] The cooperation between the two cousins of which Helmold writes can clearly be seen throughout the first half of Frederick’s reign. The aforementioned faithfulness of Henry in Italy was instrumental to Frederick’s first two Italian expeditions, when the duke personally crushed the opposition under Arnold of Brescia at the imperial coronation in Rome in 1155. Henry’s strong rule in Saxony benefited the emperor to the extent that it prevented him from needing to deal with threats from the east as previous emperors had, allowing Frederick to instead pursue his interests in Italy. When Frederick did deal with the east, such as his invasion of Poland to force Boleslav IV into submission, Henry cooperated by campaigning with the emperor.[7] Altogether, from the imperial election to the end of the second Italian expedition, Henry the Lion spent the majority of his time and resources aiding the emperor.
Henry’s efforts, it must be noted, did not go without reward. Restored to his father’s double dukedom through his support for Barbarossa, Henry was to reap more benefits when it came to the matter of his aggressive lordship in Saxony. Even his right to that duchy was in question, however, in 1152. The Saxon noble Albert the Bear had a claim to the duchy through Count Otto of Ballenstedt, husband of the oldest Billung heiress. Though pressing their rights to the failed Billungs line, they lost the duchy to Count Lothar of Supplinburg in 1106. The Billungs’ relations maintained their claims, however, asserting them periodically. In one such inheritance conflict between them and the Welfs in 1152, Frederick mediated at a diet in Würzburg, confirming Henry with the Winzenburg holdings while giving Plötzkau to Albert the Bear.[8] Although this may at first glance appear a good compromise for the situation, the size of the Winzenburg holdings made this a clear victory for Henry. This confirmation was more evidence that Frederick favored his powerful relative.
The third conflict Barbarossa faced at the beginning of his reign involving Henry concerned lay investiture. Archbishop Hartwig of Bremen decided to resume missionary activities among the Slavs in 1149, reestablishing three abandoned bishoprics among them: Oldenburg, Mecklenburg, and Ratzeburg. Following the Wendish crusade, Henry the Lion declared it his right to invest the bishops and did so at Ratzeburg in 1150.[9] When Henry attempted to invest Vicelin, the newly consecrated bishop of Oldenburg, with his temporalia, he resisted with the backing of Archbishop Hartwig, rightfully claiming that it was the emperor’s right alone to do so.[10] Despite their objections, Henry forced the matter and they acquiesced, one of the duke’s ministeriales remarking: “in this land the only authority is the duke’s.”[11] Frederick granted Henry the rights to invest these bishops at Goslar in 1154, despite Hartwig’s protests in favor of Frederick’s rights. Thus because Frederick wielded very little actual power in the North, he was willing to support Henry’s infringement upon even imperial rights as Henry expanded the empire.
Although Henry was supported by Frederick, the nobles were unwilling to turn a blind eye toward his aggressions. Before Barbarossa’s ascension to the throne, Henry had claimed the inheritance of Count Rudolf of Stade because he had died without an heir. This came at the expense of Rudolf’s relative Hartwig, who was to become Archbishop of Bremen in 1148. When Hartwig, under Archbishop Adelbero, asserted his right to the inheritance, Henry had them both imprisoned. When the matter finally came before Conrad III, the emperor ruled in favor of Hartwig. Despite the imperial pronouncement to the contrary, Henry’s continual insistence that all heirless inheritances default to himself created much resistance among the Saxon nobility. Together with other abuses, this led to open conflict in the 1160s. Fighting first began under Count Palatine Adalbert of Sommerschenburg in 1165, and by the following year Henry was fighting a league of nobles comprised of Adalbert, Archbishop Wichmann of Magdeburg, the bishop of Hildesheim, Albert the Bear and his sons, the landgrave of Thuringia and others.[12] Even Frederick’s chancellor Archbishop Rainald of Cologne joined in an offensive and defensive alliance with the Archbishop of Magdeburg against Henry. Although Cologne’s involvement ended with Rainald’s death in the disastrous plague before Rome in 1167 and imperial legates attained an at least temporary pacification of Saxony, a lasting peace was not achieved until the emperor’s return. After over a year of negotiations, Frederick settled the matter at a diet in Bamberg in June 1169. Helmold of Bosau summarized the diet by writing: “Everything turned out as the duke wished and, without any loss on his part, he was saved from being encompassed by the princes.”[13] Henry seems to have maintained his position against the nobles, and even scored an additional victory with the imperial appointment of Baldwin, said to be Henry’s chaplain, to the sea of Bremen. Like many historians after him, Helmold is also correct in pointing out that it was Frederick’s support that kept Henry afloat in a sea of opposition.
Even though Saxony was the main theatre of actions and hostilities, Henry’s aggressiveness was not confined to the north. In an action remembered as the founding of Munich, Henry demolished a bridge over the river Isar at Vehringen and constructed one on his own property at Munichen.[14] This attempt to capitalize off the trade route between Salzburg and Augsburg angered Frederick’s biographer and lord of Vehringen, Bishop Otto of Freising, who appealed to the emperor. Putting Henry before even his closest of allies, Frederick endorsed Henry’s actions in 1158 but awarded the bishop with one third of the revenue from the bridge. When considered alongside those in Saxony, these events point towards if not an informal alliance between Frederick and Henry, then certainly to an understanding that Henry would aid Frederick in his efforts and the emperor would save Henry from the consequences from his aggressive and contentious rule.
The collaboration between Frederick and Henry, while greatly benefiting both men throughout the first half of the emperor’s reign, was not bound to last forever. The historic turning point in their relations is held to be their meeting at Chiavenna in 1176. Unfortunately no sources survive from the time of the meeting, the earliest surviving documents dating from after Henry’s fall.[15] The lack of sources and conflicting accounts lead some previous historians to suggest that there was no meeting at all. This, however, should be discounted as the conflicting accounts lend credence to the basic event of some sort of meeting. Had the whole incident been a later fabrication, one would expect the reports to agree in the basic questions of where and how. Since they do not agree, one may assume some manner of meeting took place between the men in 1176.
This assumption fits well with what is also known of the
situation at that time. Frederick left for Italy in his
fifth Italian expedition in 1174, but after a protracted siege at
Alessandria, a symbol of anti-imperialism, he made a truce at
Montebello with the Lombard League. When the Lombards’
stalwart insistence upon imperial peace with Pope Alexander III,
as well as the recognition of the city Assesanderia, caused the
peace process to cease, Frederick turned toward Germany for help.
His army at that time consisted primarily of mercenaries since
the disastrous plague at Rome in 1167 had made many German
vassals uneasy about campaigning with the emperor.[16] Having dismissed
many of the expensive mercenaries following Montebello, Frederick
needed reinforcements from Germany for the next year’s
operations. For this purpose he sent Archbishop Philip of
Cologne to Germany during the winter of 1175/6.[17] Placed in such a situation, Henry would
be one of the vassals to whom Frederick would have turned first
due to his early history of support and powerful position, even
though Henry’s last participation in Italian affairs had
been in 1161.[18] A
face-to-face meeting between the two was even possible, since
Henry was in the south that winter.
The meeting
between Frederick and Henry occurred sometime in late January or
early February 1176. Despite the claim in the Lauterbach
Chronicle that the meeting was at Partenkrichen or others
that suggest Frederick came to Henry, the traditionally accepted
and most probable location is Chiavenna.[19] The city, an important customs
location, sits on the northern shore of Lake Como, commanding the
entrances to the San Giacomo and Bregaglia valleys.[20] The city’s
strategic location made it a useful base for Frederick’s
dealings in Italy and an ideal place to winter. At this
time the city was in the duchy of Swabia and was by no means out
of reach for the double duke.
The details of the meeting are even more tangled than the locality. Most accounts date from the early thirteenth century, when the conflict between the Welfs and Hohenstaufens was in full force under Philip of Swabia and Otto IV. These chroniclers looked back at the meeting in an attempt to find an explanation for Henry’s fall and the beginning of the troubles of their own time, an effort that illuminates the often lapidary language they ascribe to the event. The climax and centerpiece of these accounts is, of course, Frederick’s kneeling before Henry. Adolf of Stade has the empress Beatrix raising Frederick after Henry’s refusal, exclaiming: “Stand, my lord, and remember this genuflection, as God may well remember it.”[21] Burchard of Ursberg records the incident in no less grandiose and even more pugnacious terms when he claims that a knight of Henry’s said vehemently: “Let the crown lay at your feet, my lord, for one day it shall adorn your head.”[22] Although such statements make for good drama, they misrepresent what probably did occur at Chiavenna by blowing it out of proportion.
In order to get anywhere close to the truth of what happened in the early months of 1176, one must start with what is known of the situation. Frederick eagerly desired troops, and was making overtures towards his vassals to send him reinforcements. Even though Henry was already in the south, the mere fact that he was willing to make the trip to see the Emperor personally signals some sort of willingness to comply with Frederick’s wishes. Yet Frederick would well have known that raising troops during the thick of winter was a difficult task, and his expectations that Henry would support him must have been relatively low. Taking this into account, it is not unthinkable that the emperor could have fallen to his knees in appeal to his cousin’s sense of duty to support his lord and friend. The record of this obeisance first dates from no latter than 1196 when Gieselbert of Mons recorded it, but was also mentioned by Otto of St. Blasien, Adolf of Stade, and numerous others.[23] Yet the acceptance of Frederick’s kneeling does not necessarily confirm the magnitude the chroniclers and popular history assign to it. Jordan believes that, “The gesture would have been less of a personal humiliation for men of that day than it would appear to later observers.”[24] This probably is the case, seeing as Conrad II had made the same gesture in front of his son.[25] The notion that Chiavenna was not a great abasement for Frederick is also buttressed by the fact that it was not recorded by contemporary chronicles - something one would certainly expect had it been the great event recorded at Hohenschwangau. The fact that it went unrecorded may have much to do with the fact that it went unnoticed, and it may have gone unnoticed precisely because it was deemed unimportant.
Henry, however, was not persuaded. The explanation for why Henry came to Chiavenna was first recorded in the Marsbach Annals in 1184 and recorded by Otto of St. Blasien and numerous other sources. Otto writes: “Duke Henry… made a demand for Goslar, the richest city in Saxony, as a fief in return.”[26] In order to understand this demand, one needs to look at a phenomenon at the time known as territorial politics. Territorial politics were essentially a policy - to what degree one can use that word in medieval politics - in which nobles and kings would attempt to consolidate their authority over a general area by rounding off their holdings and by exerting greater control over local matters. It was thus in the interests of both men in 1158 when Henry gave Frederick castle Badenweiler with 100 ministerials and 500 manors which he had received from his wife, Clementia of Zähringen, for the castles Herzburg and Scharzfeld, the estate of Pöhlde, and an imperial ministerial.[27] Henry received strongholds in southern Saxony in the Harz forest where he was trying to extend his power, while Frederick found himself with new lands previously owned by the duke of Zähringen- an exchange that fit well with the territorial ambitions of both men. It is within this context that the demand for Goslar must be seen. An important city under the Salian monarchs, Henry’s family possessed the city of Goslar until Barbarossa had stripped Henry of the fief, reportedly for his dealings against the nobles on Henry’s behalf in the 1160s.[28] For Frederick the city was a vital holding, for not only did it produce high revenues from the nearby mines of the Rammelsberg, but it was also Frederick’s sole stronghold in the north. Its importance is why Henry was willing to support Frederick if he would be reinvested with it; it was also why the emperor was not willing to concede it.
When discussing
Chiavenna, many historians take the view that it was the great
watershed in relations between the two men and that Frederick
left intent upon Henry’s destruction. Not only does
this seem at odds with the assessment above, but it also
contradicts other source evidence.[29] The best statement about Chiavenna and
its role within the conflict of the two men is Hampe’s:
“Yet to
ascribe to the occasion an influence on the later legal
proceedings against Henry is to miss its significance, for it did
not lend itself to that sort of exploitation. Rather than
an open break, it involved a change of mind on the part of the
Emperor, whose feeling of personal humiliation led him at the
same time to recognize that in the long run it was not feasible
to preserve… the prevailing equilibrium in Germany.”[30]
Even though Henry was not obligated to support Frederick as he had issued no general levy, I agree with Arnold of Lübeck that Henry had a moral obligation to do so.[31] This was not so bad as an act of ‘blackmail’ as Fuhrman writes, but certainly not the behavior of a good or ideal vassal.[32] Instead of plotting Henry’s complete destruction, Frederick likely left the encounter disappointed, a bit humiliated and embittered, and with a sense that his cousin had forgotten his position in the empire due to the duke’s highhanded request. Henry’s refusal at Chiavenna to continue helping Frederick whenever he needed it prompted Frederick to respond in kind by not coming to Henry’s rescue against his many enemies. The decision was no doubt solidified when two of Henry’s Saxon rivals, Philip of Cologne and Archbishop Wichmann of Magdeburg, provided Frederick with troops that winter. The emperor could no longer afford to support Henry against his enemies who, unlike Henry, would willingly assist him.
Despite being the most discussed factor in the breakdown in relations between Henry and Frederick, Chiavenna is certainly not the only one to be examined. Many factors have been studied, although not many of them will bear the weight of scrutiny. The first of these is that Frederick angered Henry by trying to secure his property for himself should the duke die while in the orient. The charge goes that Frederick, in Saxony in the duke’s absence in 1172, forced Henry’s men to swear that they should hand their castles over to the emperor if the duke died before returning.[33] Not only would this have been completely out of character for Frederick, but also as Jordan points out has “all [the] appearances [of] a rumor put about by the Welf party after Henry’s fall.[34] Not surprisingly, this rumor first appears in a manuscript over two hundred years after both men’s deaths. The other accusation of misconduct during Henry’s pilgrimage is that there were treasonable relations between Henry and Byzantine Emperor Manuel I. Twice the emperor received Henry, reportedly with all the pomp and splendor that the Byzantines gave to kings. The Byzantines were at this time actively opposing Frederick in Italy and were heavily supporting the Lombards. The very fact that Henry, Manuel’s enemy’s most powerful vassal, should be received so well by the eastern empire meant that the visit was instantly suspect. Godfrey of Viterbo, Frederick’s chaplain, commented following the Welf’s fall that he was a traitor who had sold out for “Greek gifts.”[35] Unfortunately this remark bears the benefit of hindsight and is thus not a good indication of what the imperial court really thought at the time. Yet, even though there is no substantial evidence of treacherous dealings between the two men, Frederick still may have been somewhat suspicious of Henry’s stay in Byzantium.
Other foreign dealings have also been analyzed, such as Henry’s connections with his father-in-law, Henry II of England. Both emperor and vassal had made marriage alliances with Henry II, but while Frederick’s fell through, Henry did marry the Angevin’s daughter, Matilda. Although this alliance was accepted and even lauded by the emperor, who at the time of the alliance was attempting to lure the Anglo-Norman king into the camp of his imperial pope, by the late 1170s the Beckett murder had forced Henry to accept Pope Alexander III unconditionally and thereby placing him at odds with the emperor. Furthermore, Frederick was leaning increasingly toward an alliance with King Philip of France, Henry’s enemy. Last of all, Henry II had given subsidies that helped to rebuild one of Frederick’s archenemies in Italy, Milan. Although Henry’s relations with foreign powers did not always conform with Frederick’s, the emperor surely realized the complexity of the situation and was not threatened in so great a manner as to warrant the dispossession of the duke.
The third factor historians point to in addition to Chiavenna is the question of the Welf inheritance. Welf VI, uncle to both men, lost his only son with so many other German nobles to the plague at Rome in 1167. Left with no heir and with little hope of producing another by his aging and later estranged wife, Welf turned to what is described as a ‘riotous’ life of self-indulgence, lavish feasts and, to his credit, large donations to monasteries. Even though as Welf’s brother’s son Henry the Lion was the most probable heir, Henry agreed to pay Welf for his properties. When Henry refused to pay the agreed sum, a refusal Otto of St. Blasien attributes to Henry’s expectation that the old man would soon die, Welf retracted the agreement, offering his lands instead to his sister’s son, Frederick.[36] Frederick paid the sum and received various Welf allods in Swabia, which he then enfeoffed Welf with, as well as Sardinia, Spoleto, the Matildine lands, and the margraviate of Tuscany in Italy. Although Gillingham suggests that the feud between the two men can therefore in one respect be seen as a succession dispute, this view does not hold up very well. The reason for this, apart from the lack of any actual conflict over or disputes about lands, is that recent scholarship puts the dates for Frederick’s purchase of Welf’s lands at about 1178 or 1179 at the latest.[37] This is too late to influence either man’s actions at Chiavenna and there was already evidence of a falling out by 1177 with the Treaty of Venice. The only effect it may have had was to embitter the Lion, contributing to his later contumacy, since Frederick’s outmaneuvering Henry in the Welf inheritance would not have spurred him on against Henry. All in all the best that any of these commonly cited factors do is to suggest that there may have been some conflict of interests between the two men but nothing so serious as to give rise to Henry’s trial.
Frederick meanwhile continued his fighting in Italy without Henry’s aid. Following the disappointment at Legnano, Frederick eventually came to peace with his enemies there in 1177. Frederick promised peace with the Lombards for six years, with the Normans of Sicily for fifteen and recognized Alexander III as pope. The ensuing Peace of Venice is the first evidence that the emperor would no longer go out of his way to support his cousin. After years of supporting the imperial pope, Henry was abandoned by his lord to his own fate in the peace treaty. Frederick made certain in the treaty that his men, Archbishops Christian of Mainz and Philip of Cologne, were confirmed; Henry’s men were another matter. Bishop Gero of Halberstadt, who was elected to replace the pro-Alaxandrian Bishop Ulrich, was deposed. The treaty further stated that “Alienations made and benefices given by Gero, and likewise by all intruders, shall be cancelled by the authority of the lord pope and the lord emperor and shall be restored to their churches.”[38] Henry was the direct victim of this clause, since under his supporter Gero he received the generous beneficium mentioned in the treaty. The treaty also states that an investigation into the election of the Ascanian Siegfried to the Bremen Archbishopric was to take place. If the election were found canonical, then Albert the Bear’s son Siegfried was to be reinstated. This also came at the Lion’s expense, as his chaplain Baldwin had made certain that Henry benefited from his pontificate as archbishop of Bremen, a situation which would end should Henry’s rival Siegfried return to the sea. The anxiety on both sides for peace in 1176 meant that Frederick saw no need to prolong and entangle the bargaining with the needs of a proud and ambitious vassal.
The Treaty of Venice lit the spark that was to ignite Saxony, resulting ultimately in the fall of Henry the Lion. Fighting in Mecklenburg when he heard about the Treaty of Venice, Henry rushed back to Saxony and destroyed Ulrich’s castle at Nornburg.[39] Ulrich had followed the treaty by attempting to reclaim the fiefs granted to Henry, excommunicating him when he refused, and also by rebuilding the fortress Hopelberg by Halberstadt, which was twice destroyed by Henry’s men and rebuilt until the emperor, still in Italy, ordered that it should not be rebuilt.[40] When Ulrich made an offensive and defensive alliance in 1178 with Philip of Cologne, the pair began attacking Henry’s castles in Westphalia. Archbishop Philip had claims to lands in Westphalia through his relatives Otto of Assel and Count Christian of Oldenburg, two vassals who had had their property repossessed by Henry, and Philip hoped to reclaim them for himself. Although Wichmann of Magdeburg and Eberhard of Merseburg negotiated an armistice, both camps were soon up in arms again. The obligation to step in and uphold the Landfriede, i.e. to maintain the peace, was ultimately the emperor’s, and the situation was one that Barbarossa could not neglect.
Mindful of the situation, Frederick called a diet at Speyer on 11 November 1178 upon his return from Italy. Both parties were present and both issued grave charges against one another. A decade earlier Frederick had suppressed the claims of the nobles in Henry’s favor. This would no longer be the case, as Henry’s refusal and the bishops’ support in Italy would tip the balance in their favor. Frederick decided to take the case, summoning the factions to a diet in January in which Frederick would hear the case against Henry. The diet in Speyer therefore marks the beginning of the legal proceedings against the duke.
The only contemporary evidence to survive until modern times is a 1306 transcript of the Gelnhausen Charter. Unfortunately it is not legible in its entirety and interpretations vary on how the Latin is punctuated. Although the exact details are still under debate, it nevertheless gives a fairly clear picture of what transpired.[41] The process involved two distinct phases: one under Landrecht, or customary law, and a second under Lehnrecht, or feudal law. The first phase, consisting of two parts, began at the diet at Worms in January 1179. The customs of Landrecht stated that Henry was to be tried before a jury of his tribal peers, in this case the Swabian lords. Knowing from the previous diet at Speyer that the emperor would not save him and that he could not refute the claims against him, Henry did not appear. The diet probably found that Henry would be outlawed if he continued to ignore the imperial summonses.
The next diet to discuss the matter was at Magdeburg in June 1179. Once again Henry was called before his Swabia peers and once again he was absent. The council ruled against him by default, this time placing him under ban or Acht. This was not yet complete outlawry, known as Oberacht, but it was still bad news for Henry. Magdeburg also witnessed Dietrich of Landsberg, the margrave of Lusatia, accuse Henry of ‘high treason’ and challenged him to trial by combat.[42] The particular charge the margrave accused Henry of is unclear and it is suggested that it may have been in dealings with some of the Slav neighbors. This, however, need not be the case. By refusing to appear before Frederick’s court, it may well have been the later charge of contumacy that the Margrave issued at Magdeburg that is cited specifically as “high treason.”[43] Scholars also overlook the issue of the fiefs reclaimed by Ulrich of Halberstadt. Henry’s resistance to their surrender could be seen as violating the Treaty of Venice. Whatever the exact charge was, Henry refused the challenge.
The second phase in the process was the feudal trial. This began either at Magdeburg or at Kayna in August after the emperor had spoken with the duke.[44] Frederick traveled to Henry’s castle at Haldersleben between the two diets, where according to Arnold of Lübeck he offered to intercede for the duke for the sum of 5,000 marks.[45] He did not mean to save the duke entirely from his opponents, however, and Henry would still probably have been required to return the lands he received by unlawful means, but at least his cousin would not have prosecuted him for refusing to attend at his court. The whole incident has the feel of a Chiavenna in reverse: the emperor travels to Henry willing to aid him in his troubles, but only for a price. The difference, however, is that while Henry was generally seen as having some sort of moral obligation to help Frederick three years earlier, Frederick owed nothing to his obstinate relative. In fact, the incident more or less disproves the theory that Frederick left Chiavenna plotting the double duke’s destruction. If the loss of either or both duchies was Frederick’s intention during the process, it is highly unlikely that he would have made such a reconciliatory gesture at Haldersleben.
Henry’s refusal of Frederick’s aid allowed the feudal process against him to proceed. The next discussion of the matter was at the diet in Würzburg on 13 January 1180. A triple summons was issued to the duke at an interval Jordan believes to be six weeks since the diet was approximately eighteen weeks after Kayna.[46] This time the charge against Henry was contumacy. One of a vassal’s fundamental obligations was to appear before his lord’s court when summoned. Henry’s crime was therefore more serious of a matter than it would seem to later generations. Because it was a feudal matter between lord and vassal, the jury would not be limited to Henry’s peers in his native stem duchy but would instead include all of the imperial vassals. The jury was given no choice, as Henry’s absence and failure to even send a spokesman demanded that they unanimously find him guilty of persistent contumacy, which they did. Henry’s failure to uphold one of the most basic duties of a vassal caused him to be stripped of the duchies of Saxony and Bavaria, as well as all other imperial fiefs. His fall was the result of his own mistakes and miscalculations.
Frederick and the princes met again at the Diet of Gelnhausen on 13 April 1180. Predictably, Henry did not attend. With nothing more to legally do to Henry, the emperor began distributing the rights to his lands. Much in the past has been written about a feudal principle called the Leihezwang, a rule that required all confiscated fiefs to be invested to other princes within a year and a day. Although certainly present later in Germany, there is no other evidence to suggest that it existed at this point. It does, however, have supporters such as Mitteis, who argues that it forced Frederick to redistribute the duchies: Munz on the other hand correctly counters that a redistribution of Henry’s possessions in 1180 does not require the existence of the Leihezwang at that time but instead that political necessity motivated Frederick to give away Henry’s fiefs.[47] The princes had already suffered at Henry’s hand and were clamoring for their lands back.[48] Frederick would have had a difficult time subduing Henry on his own, and needed the princes’ help to do so. The sentence of outlawry and dispossession could greatly enhance the emperor’s prestige if it broke his most powerful vassal; but, conversely, the failure to bring Henry to heed would lead to the perception of Frederick as a weak leader. It was therefore of vital importance that once begun, the process be completed. For this Frederick needed the nobles; for their support, the nobles desired Henry’s fiefs. Besides, had Frederick kept the duchies for himself, the dispossession would have been viewed as the action of an ambitious and dangerous emperor by the other princes of the empire, thereby weakening Frederick’s support among the princes.
It was in this context that the emperor split Saxony with the princes’ consent between Philip of Cologne and Count Bernard of Anhalt. Philip was given the new duchy of Westphalia, where he already possessed claims. The remainder of Saxony was given to Bernard, the youngest son of Albert the Bear. Frederick also confirmed Siegfried with the Archbishopric of Bremen and made Landgrave Ludwig III of Thuringia the county palatine of Saxony. Henry scored a number of military victories during the trial, but Frederick planned a general campaign for July. The emperor soon took Lichtenburg, and at a diet at Werla proclaimed that all men who continued to support Henry after 11 November would loose their fiefs.[49] This and a dispute over hostages caused Adolf of Holstein to abandon Henry, resulting in a mass defection of Henry’s vassals and ministeriales who would not risk their rights for Henry. Even the duke’s foreign allies Henry II and Valdemar of Denmark did not support him, with Valdemar’s fleet even helping the emperor take Lübeck.[50] Failing to clear himself in a year and a day, Henry was proclaimed under Oberacht, or complete outlawry, at Ratisbon.[51] In September Frederick divided the duchy of Bavaria at Altenburg where the duchy was given to court palatine Otto of Wittelsbach, a steadfast supporter and cousin of Frederick. Because Otto’s peers would not have accepted this, Ottokar of Steyr was given the new duchy of Styria while the Ansdechs were made dukes of Dalmatia, Croatia and Merano.[52] Frederick’s satisfaction of immediate political needs had created five dukes where there had previously been only Henry.
When Frederick swept north again to aid the coalition of nobles in 1181, he soon cornered Henry at Stade. Henry submitted to the emperor at a diet at Erfurt on 11 November, prostrating himself before Frederick and begging his forgiveness. The emperor raised Henry, remitting his outlawry and thus allowing him to keep his allods.[53] Still viewed as a threat, Henry was exiled for three years to his father-in-law’s court in England and Normandy. Meanwhile, Philip had no luck controlling Westphalia and the chaotic situation in Saxony prompted Arnold of Lübeck to write: “In those days there was no king in Israel, and each man ruled in the manner of a tyrant.”[54] Frederick, however, was at the apex of his power as was demonstrated by the grandiosity and splendor of his festival at Mainz in 1184, where his sons were knighted. Henry returned in late 1185 and began making modest yet largely unsuccessful attempts to regain some of his former possessions. When events in the east compelled Frederick to take the cross at the Diet of Christ in March 1188, he began to insure the pacification of Germany in his absence, receiving the submission of Philip of Cologne, who had fallen out with the emperor not long after Henry’s dispossession. Traveling to Saxony, Frederick agreed that summer at Goslar that Henry would once again stay with Henry II for three years in return for the protection of all his possessions. Despite his oath, Henry returned to Saxony shortly after the emperor’s departure to the east in May 1189. The immediate cause for his return was the death of his wife Matilda; however, once back in October he was invested with Stade by the new pro-Welf Archbishop of Bremen, Hartwig. Henry then retook Bardowick, Lübeck, and much of Holstein by force. Although the Emperor’s son Henry VI began a campaign against Henry the Lion at Merseburg in October, he failed to capture Brunswick and soon made peace with Henry. Henry VI’s refusal to persist in the containment of Henry was due to the death of King William II of Sicily, giving him a claim to the Sicilian kingdom. Peace was made between the Henrys at a diet in Fulda in July 1190, a month after Frederick had drowned in the river Saleph on his way to Jerusalem.
In order to be fully understood, the fall of Henry the Lion must be viewed within the wider context of the twelfth-century empire. The question arises: was Henry the only man of his rank to be outlawed and if so was he the only to loose his duchies? One need not travel outside Frederick and Henry’s immediate families to find the answers to such questions. Following the electoral dispute between Frederick’s father, Frederick II of Swabia, and Lothar III, Frederick refused to forfeit his fiefs, including those gained by his imperial Salian ancestors. Lothar responded at a diet at Ratisbon in 1125, where the princes ruled that they were indeed imperial property. When Frederick refused to hand them over to the new emperor, he was found guilty of “high treason” at Lothar’s candlemas court and placed under ban of the empire in January 1126.[55] The Hohenstaufens replied by electing Frederick’s brother Conrad king in 1127. The breach remained until 1134 when Lothar and his son-in-law, Henry the Proud, overran Swabia, forcing Frederick to seek terms at Fulda.[56] Lothar, in need of the duke’s support, was lenient. At the diet of Bamburg in 1135 he returned his duchy and lands in exchange for an oath that Frederick would aid his next campaign in Italy.[57]
Conrad’s claim was resurrected upon Lothar’s death in 1138. When the princes did homage to the new emperor at Bamburg on 22 May, Henry the Proud was notably absent. Although Henry later handed him the imperial insignia at Ratisbon, Conrad delayed the judgement on Henry’s claim to the two dukedoms, the idea of which Conrad opposed. Henry’s absence at Würzburg compelled Conrad to ban him, confiscating Bavaria and giving it to Leopold of Austria and Saxony to Albert the Bear. Initial fighting favored Conrad and Henry died on the verge of a massive counterstrike in which he may very well have recovered Bavaria. Henry’s son, Henry the Lion, was thus left with Saxony and a claim to Bavaria at the peace at Frankfurt in 1142. The precedent set by both men’s fathers was that a duke could and would not attend an imperial summons if he anticipated it ruling against him. He could also be confident that the emperor would not be able to enforce the dispossession in the end.
This history undoubtedly had an effect on the actions of Henry the Lion. Henry falsely estimated his strength, failing to comprehend the capacity of local opposition coupled with the might of Frederick, now unburdened by affairs in Italy. Unlike Conrad or Lothar, Frederick held a firm grasp on the monarchy at the time of Henry’s trial. The fierce opposition of the princes, spurred by Henry’s draconian measures, forced the always-vigorous emperor to deal with the matter. Although Henry was following precedent - his father did rather well in opposition to Conrad’s justice - Hampe is correct in noting that: “overestimating the security of his position, Henry felt that he could make a success of open resistance to the Emperor’s judicial authority. It was this alone which caused his fall.”[58] Much has been made over the years of Henry’s pride. Henry’s high position as a double duke with the most allodial land in the empire made him one of the richest and most powerful men in Europe. The traditional pieces of evidence pointing to Henry’s arrogance and conception of himself as a quasi-king are an illustration in the Gmunden Evangeliarium, in which Henry and Matilda are depicted receiving crowns directly from Christ with no sign of the emperor, and also Henry’s Dankwarderode residence in Brunswick, modeled on the imperial residence at Goslar. Henry’s pride above all else prevented him from attending his trial, since he felt it below a man of his stature’s rank to be judged by the emperor’s court. His father’s vice of pride would be his downfall.
The role of the trial and fall of Henry the Lion in the development of mediaeval Germany has been given an over-exaggerated importance, partially due to the tendency of historians to pronounce a single, dramatic event the impetus of change when in fact it is only one segment of a long-term process. The Cambridge Medieval History declares that: “No single event in the Middle Ages so profoundly altered the map of Germany as the fall of Henry the Lion. In place of the four or five large compact duchies…we have now some few duchies, relatively small.”[59] While 1180 witnessed the greatest division of lands and formation of new territorial units, this was certainly not a new process. Bavaria had been split between Henry the Lion and Henry Jasomirgott at the beginning of Frederick’s reign, as mentioned before. The process of dividing duchies went back further than Frederick’s rule. Swabia was divided in three from 1079 to 1098 and Lotharingia had also been divided by 1180.[60] Otto II had even split Carinthia from Bavaria in 976, two centuries before Henry’s fall, in order to compensate Duke Berthold’s son, Henry.[61]
While Henry’s fall may have been the end of the tribal duchy, it was by no means a healthy institution in 1180. Although the role of the tribe was still present in 1180 as was evident when Henry was judged under customary law by his Swabian peers, many of the functions of the tribal duchy had long since slipped into oblivion. The military function of the duke had declined during the War of Investitures when the dukes increasingly lost their position as the one who would raise armies for the crown and would lead those contingents on the battlefield. The dukes took on more of a peacekeeping role as a more complex structure of powerful, independent bishops, margraves, and counts emerged.[62] This change in the way that troops were raised is evident in Frederick’s Italian campaigns, where, especially in the later years, he relied more and more on Brabant mercenaries instead of forces mustered by the dukes or other vassals. The ecclesiastical lords also solidly supported Frederick, as they had Lothar III, and their importance in contributing soldiers must not be overlooked. In conclusion, by 1180 the tribal duchies no longer had the same role in the empire they had previously held and Frederick’s division of the last of them only served as recognition of the alteration in the political power structure.
Another change historically attributed to the fall of Henry the Lion and related to the destruction of the stem duchy was the creation of the Heerschildordnung. The Heerschild was a systematic ranking of princes and estates that was not firmly defined or recorded until after the time of Frederick and Henry. The Heerschildordnung was a feudal pyramid with the emperor atop, followed by a group of nobles called principes imperii whom received their fiefs directly from the emperor. This was symbolized by either a banner for secular lords or a sceptre for ecclesiastical ones and it was that uninterrupted relationship with the king which determined their rank, not their title. Ecclesiastical lords were second in the pyramid so they could grant fiefs to the secular princes, who were the third level. Below them came counts and men holding lands from the imperial princes, who in turn were above men such as ministeriales who could only receive fiefs.[63]
Early scholarship generally placed the establishment of this system at the fall of Henry the Lion. Munz echoed it recently, since it fits well with his theory that the process against Henry was part of an attempt by Frederick to make feudalism the main constitutional principle of the Holy Roman Empire.[64] Gillingham correctly criticized this idea of a feudal policy, concluding that while Frederick “thought and acted within a feudal framework…that is not at all the same thing as deliberately manipulating ‘feudalism’ in order to attain a particular political end.”[65] Arguments on how the trial led to the Heerschild present very little in the way of evidence from the trial, perchance because there is little or none there. While the assemblage of imperial vassals for the trial under Lehnrecht could be seen as defining the second and third levels of the Heerschildordnung, it is difficult to assign the creation of that class to Henry’s trial when a similar trial had transpired several years before.[66] Barraclough’s insistence that the Heerschildordnung was “part of the price extorted by the princes for their co-operation in the proceedings” is difficult to sustain when the princes had no need of compensation beyond Henry’s lands to participate in his demise. The fall of Henry the Lion stands out primarily because it illustrates that an energetic emperor such as Frederick could use his role as a feudal king to destroy even the most powerful of vassals, albeit only when unburdened by foreign affairs and supported by the other nobles. Held as the defining moment in two large-scale transformations in Medieval Germany, in was merely one step in a long process for each of these, although the final blow to the tribal duchy.
The fall of Henry the Lion was not the only time that an over-mighty vassal was deprived of his holdings for contumacy: King John of England’s loss of Normandy to Philip Augustus provides a strikingly similar comparison. When John married Isabelle of Angoulême in 1200, he greatly upset his vassal Hugh le Brun, lord of Lusignan, who was betrothed to her. John scoffed at Hugh’s complaints and they were soon at arms. The Lusignans complained to Philip Augustus in 1201, who summoned John to appear at his court in Paris following Easter. When John refused to appear, claiming that he only had to answer to Philip on matters regarding the borders of Normandy, Philip found against him on grounds that he was summoned as the count of Poitou. As John’s feudal overlord, Philip declared John’s lands in France forfeit on account of “his and his predecessor’s refusal to offer a vassal’s obedience”; i.e. he was found guilty of contumacy.[67] Philip worked diligently to consolidate and extend the authority of the French crown and the ruling provided the legitimacy he needed to attack John.
John held out well at first with the standard defensive strategy, winning an impressive victory at Mirebeau. The tide turned against him, however, when his brutality and neglect resulted in the deaths of many of the prisoners from Mirebeau. Rumors also circulated that his nephew Arthur was killed among them, causing many supporters to abandon John due to his harsh measures. John shunned even his allies, driving William des Roches to defect when John refused his council. The situation compelled William Marshal to tell John: “Sire, you have not enough friends.”[68] Gerald of Wales would later blame the desertion of the Normans on “the violent domination and insular tyranny” of John, as compared to the good lordship of Philip Augustus.[69] Although Philip adamantly desired John’s downfall, it was John’s abusive lordship that compelled his vassals to surrender their castles to Philip, ultimately leading to the loss of Normandy.
The similarities between John’s loss of Normandy and Henry’s loss of Bavaria and Saxony are striking. Both men were found guilty of failing to appear before their overlord’s court and the primary motivation for both men’s absence was the pride of their own stature. Furthermore, each man’s downfall was made possible only by his own harsh rule over his vassals. Each case shows a tremendous profit - either in prestige, lands, or both – towards the monarchy; yet it was only successful when the king could rely on a dissatisfied lower nobility to aid in the sentence. The cases differ, however, in that while the seizure of Normandy was the result of Philip’s ambition, the loss of Saxony was largely due to Henry’s. By abusing the Saxon princes and abandoning Frederick in Italy, Henry forced the emperor to hear the case against him. Frederick, no doubt, was perfectly willing to comply since he had no better place to devote his energies and anticipated the honor bound to befall him as head of the supreme imperial court. This difference in the kings’ ambitions is evident in the aftermath of the trials. Whereas Philip kept Normandy for himself as part of his demesne, Frederick re-granted the eschewed fiefs to his supporters.
It is said of his coronation that when a felon came before Frederick and asked for a pardon, Frederick refused, stating: “I outlawed you not out of malice, but in accordance with the dictates of justice; therefore there is no ground for pardon.”[70] The emperor was the very personification of justice in the medieval empire, a responsibility Frederick did not take lightly. Henry, however, had no valid reason to complain about Frederick’s justice. If anything, the emperor favored him for reasons of blood and politics, showing from 1168 until his offer at Haldersleben a willingness to bend the rules for his Welf cousin. Frederick’s reputation for justice was without doubt increased by Henry’s dispossession, not only by the fact that he was able to enforce the verdict against such a powerful vassal but because his motivation was not large personal material gains. In the end, even though Frederick dismantled Henry’s power block and distributed it among five men, the Welfs nevertheless remained a force to be reckoned with in the Holy Roman Empire.
[1] A. Haverkamp, Medieval
Germany 1056-1273. trans. Helga Braun et. al. (New
York, 1992) p. 26.
[2] K. Jordan, Henry the Lion: A Biography. trans. P.S. Falla. (Oxford, 1986), p. 25.
[3] Z. Brooke, et. al. The Cambridge Medieval History Vol V: Contest of Empire and Papacy. (London, 1948), p. 357.
[4] For details on privilegicum
minus, see H. Fuhrmann, Germany in the High Middle Ages,
c. 1050-1200. trans. T. Reuter. (New York,
1986.), p. 150.
[5] B. Arnold, Medieval Germany, 500-1300: A Political Interpretation. (London, 1997), p. 172.
[6] Helmold of Bosau. The Chronicle of the Slavs. trans. F.J. Tschan. (New York, 1966), p. 226.
[7] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 54.
[8] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 44.
[9] Haverkamp, Medieval Germany, 152.
[10] J.B. Gillingham, The Kingdom of Germany in the High Middle Ages. (London, 1971), p. 21.
[11] Gillingham, The Kingdom of Germany, 21.
[12] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 100.
[13] Helmold of Bosau. The Chronicle of the Slavs, 273.
[14] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 57.
[15] Contemporary sources such as the Magdeburg, Pegau, and Cologne Annals do not mention the meeting. “Chiavenna und der Fußfall des Kaisers vor Heinrich dem Löwen.” Gelnhausen.de <http://www.gelnhausen.de/gnurk/i03379.htm> [Accessed Dec. 7th, 2000].
[16] M. Pacaut, Frederick Barbarossa., trans. A.J. Pmerans. (London, 1970), p. 147.
[17] F. Opll, Das Itinerar Kaiser Friedrich Barbarossas (1152-1190). (Wien, 1978), p. 64.
[18] Fuhrmann, Germany, 168.
[19] Chiavenna is named the meeting place by Otto von St. Blasien and others, and Gobelin’s statement that it took place as a city north of Lake Como can be taken to mean Chiavenna. “Chiavenna und der Fußfall des Kaisers vor Heinrich dem Löwen.” Gelnhausen.de.
[20] “The old town of Chiavenna.”
Valchiavenna.com. http://www.valchiavenna.com/chiavenna/canton_gb.html
[Accessed Dec. 7th, 2000].
[21] “Stehe auf, mein Herr, und sei
dieses Fußfalles eingedenk, wie auch Gott seiner gedenken möge.”
“Chiavenna und der Fußfall des Kaisers vor Heinrich dem
Löwen.” Gelnhausen.de.
[22] “Lasset doch, Herr, die Krone Euch
zu Füßen liegen, die soll Euch einst noch das Haupt zieren.”
“Chiavenna und der Fußfall des Kaisers vor Heinrich dem
Löwen.” Gelnhausen.de.
[23] Otto von St. Blasien’s statement that Frederick asked “demütiger, als es für die kaiserliche Majestät angemessen” is all but a confirmation of the Fußfall. “Chiavenna und der Fußfall des Kaisers vor Heinrich dem Löwen.” Gelnhausen.de.
[24] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 162.
[25] “Den Fußfall des Kaisers kann man wohl nicht unbedingt als undenkbar abtun, denn Konrad II. hat in weniger dramatischer Lage einen solchen vor seinem Sohn nicht gescheut.” “Chiavenna und der Fußfall des Kaisers vor Heinrich dem Löwen.” Gelnhausen.de.
[26] “Herzog Heinrich… forderte
dafür Goslar, die reichste Stadt Sachsens, unter Lehnrecht als
Geschenk.” Heinrich der Löwe und seine Zeit:
Herrschaft und Repräsentation der Welfen 1125-1235.
Hrsg. von J. Luckhardt und F. Niehoff. 1-2. (München, 1995), p. 265.
[27] Haverkamp, Medieval Germany, 284.
[28] G. Barraclough, The Origins of Modern Germany. (London, 1962), p. 188.
[29] See Frederick’s offer to negotiate for Henry……
[30] K. Hampe, Germany under the Salian and
Hohenstaufen Emperors. trans. R. Bennett.
(Oxford, 1973), p. 193.
[31] Arnold of Lübeck writes that Henry should be “zu jeder Dienstleistung bereitwillig.” “Chiavenna und der Fußfall des Kaisers vor Heinrich dem Löwen.” Gelnhausen.de.
[32] Fuhrmann, Germany, 168.
[33] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 154.
[34] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 154-5.
[35] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 219.
[36] K. Leyser, “Frederick Barbarossa and
the Hohenstaufen Polity”, Viator: Medieval
and Renaissance Studies, 19 (1988), p. 169.
[37] Henry’s agreement with the Welf is thought to have taken place in 1175, three or four years before Barbarossa’s. Haverkamp, Medieval Germany, 234.
[38] “The Struggle Between Frederick
Barbarossa and Alexander III 1160-1177.” Medieval
Sourcebook. http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/source/barbarossa1.html [Accessed Dec. 7th, 2000].
[39] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 166.
[40] Brooke, The Cambridge Medieval History Vol. V, p. 403.
[41] The following account is based on Jordan’s, which in addition to being one of the more recent discussions of the subject is one of the more logical and is accurate enough for the scope of this paper. Jordan, Henry the Lion, 168-174.
[42] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 169.
[43] “and, chiefly, for the evident crime
of high treason: -for the reason that he absented himself and
sent no one to respond for him he was judged contumacious.” “The
Gelnhausen Charter; April 13, 1180 A.D.” The Avalon
Project at the Yale Law School: Documents in Law, History and
Diplomacy.
http://www.yale.edu/lawweb/avalon/medieval/gelnhaus.htm [Accessed Dec. 7th, 2000]..
[44] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 170.
[45] Leyser, “Frederick Barbarossa and the Hohenstaufen Polity”, 164.
[46] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 170.
[47] For a summary of Mitteis and Munz’s opinions on the matter, see Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, pp. 356-357.
[48] The Gelnhausen Charter states Frederick ruled “for the reason that he gravely oppressed the liberty of the churches of God and of the nobles…on account of the urgent complaints of the princes and of very many nobles.” “The Gelnhausen Charter” The Avalon Project.
[49] Jordan, Henry the Lion, 175
[50] Brooke, The Cambridge Medieval History Vol. V, 406
[51] Although the diet discussed the fate of
Bavaria, the failure of the emperor to grant it within a year and
a day is evidence that there was no Leihezwang at that
time.
[52] Haverkamp, Medieval Germany, 236.
[53] Henry’s allods around Brunswick and Lüneburg were sizable enough to become a duchy in 1235. An allod was described as a “fief of the sun” because it was not held of a greater lord and therefore Frederick had no jurisdiction over them once Henry was no longer outlawed. Gillingham, The Kingdom of Germany, 12.
[54] Brooke, The Cambridge Medieval History Vol. V, 407.
[55] Brooke, The Cambridge Medieval History Vol. V, 336.
[56] Brooke, The Cambridge Medieval History Vol. V, 340.
[57] Brooke, The Cambridge Medieval History Vol. V, 341.
[58] Hampe, Germany, 203.
[59] Brooke, The Cambridge Medieval History Vol. V, 405.
[60] Arnold, Medieval Germany, 73.
[61] Gillingham, The Kingdom of Germany, 19.
[62] Arnold, Medieval Germany, 51 and 62.
[63] Haverkamp is quick to add that the Heerschildordnung was not a “system of compulsory norms”, but instead merely a “prescribed order.” Haverkamp, Medieval Germany, 274.
[64] Munz writes that Frederick “decided to ride on the crest of the wave of feudalism" sometime after falling off his horse at Legnano and abandoning his first grand policy, the Great Design. These policies, however, seem a bit beyond the scope of mediaeval politics. See Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 316.
[65]Gillingham, The Kingdom of Germany, 25.
[66] Frederick had thrice summoned Conrad of Passau, elected archbishop of Salzburg in 1164, under feudal law and sentenced for usurpation because he failed to receive the regalia from the emperor or the spiritualities from his pope. Haverkamp, Medieval Germany, 275.
[67] W. Warren, King John. (London, 1978), p. 118.
[68] Warren, King John, 124.
[69] Warren, King John, 125.
[70] Brooke, The Cambridge Medieval History Vol. V, 382.
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