What do you actually know about Habsburg Emperor Maximilian I? Apart from the epithet “the last knight” and the Golden Roof in Innsbruck, can you think of anything else? What about the usual guarantors of eternal glory? Great battles and conquests? Brilliant military campaigns? Nothing? Well, this is not surprising as there were none. It is not that Maximilian did not wage any wars. But even a generous interpretation of his military track record would have to describe it as mediocre. The same applies to his political agenda. Nevertheless, Maximilian I is better known than much more successful rulers of his time. Why is that? Well, Maximilian was a PR expert long before the term was invented. He used the most modern means available to cultivate his image and establish alternative truths. And these alternative truths became perceived history and are still relevant today.
An Unfortunate Start
The young Maximilian owed his election as King of the Romans to his father, Holy Roman Emperor Frederick III. In 1486, Frederick III ensured that the electors would make his son King of the Romans while he was still alive. This made sure that Maximilian would become emperor. The Habsburgs retained the title, and this was important. After all, their influence appeared to be waning. Matthias Corvinus had just conquered large areas of their home territory. He had been residing in Vienna since 1 June 1485, challenging Frederick for the title of Duke of Austria. Meanwhile, Habsburg troops were fighting in Flanders against the French king, who also laid claim to Charles the Bold’s inheritance.
By the time Frederick died in 1493, the situation had improved somewhat: Matthias Corvinus had died childless, and the Burgundian inheritance had been divided between the Habsburgs and France. Nevertheless, the situation remained tense. So tense that Maximilian was forced to make significant concessions during the Imperial Diet at Worms in 1495. These were so significant that some historians argue that the early modern period began with this Imperial Diet. Maximilian ceded substantial powers from the emperor to the imperial estates. Additionally, the establishment of the Imperial Chamber Court, coupled with the (unofficial) recognition of the Imperial Diet’s right to play a decisive role in legislation, limited the power of all subsequent emperors.
Why do we overlook this failure when we think of Maximilian I? This is a perfectly legitimate question.
A Fortune Spent on PR Campaigns
Maximilian managed to divert attention away from his failure with his PR skills. And do not assume that this happened by chance – he knew exactly what he was doing. He commissioned the best artists of his time to create his public image. We know this because Maximilian himself said so. The translation of chapter 24 of his “Weißkunig” (The White King) reads: “Whoever does not create a glorious memory during his life will not be remembered by anyone after his death; and this person will be forgotten with the sound of the death knell; and that is why the money I spent on my glorious memory will not be lost. But the money I do not spend on my glorious memory will prevent future generations from cherishing my glorious memory.”
Theuerdank, White King and Triumphal Arch
Before we examine Maximilian I’s coinage, let us briefly consider the other propaganda tools he employed to create a memento. For one thing must but be forgotten: numismatics does not exist in isolation, but is part of an overall concept of a ruler’s self-portrayal. If we want to understand the motifs depicted on coins and medals, it is helpful to consider the messages conveyed by other media. Maximilian was a genius when it came to combining the innovations of his era to create something new. For example, in Switzerland – a major European power at the time that had just gotten rid of Charles the Bold – there were so-called illustrated chronicles. These manuscripts were full of depictions that translated their own truth into images and text. They were immensely successful. To this day, most Swiss people still believe that Charles the Bold attacked Switzerland. The recipe for success of illustrated chronicles was to present alternative truths through the most impressive images possible. Those who saw these illustrations did not question their accuracy.
Maximilian adopted this approach and combined it with chivalric romance, a type of literature that was highly popular among the nobility. The result was the richly illustrated “Theuerdank”, a work that told the story of a knight’s fictitious quest for his beloved bride. The protagonist bore a striking resemblance to Maximilian I.
While only one copy of every Swiss illustrated chronicle existed, Maximilian had the Theuerdank printed to increase its readership. He gave copies to people who would now be called influencers. This ensured that they would repeatedly take out the book at their castle when followers or visitors were around to have the verses read to them (not everyone could read!) and to look at the pictures together. The Theuerdank was so successful that Maximilian followed it with “Weißkunig” and “Freydal”.
Another ingenious innovation was Maximilian I’s Triumphal Arch. It was not an actual stone construction, but a woodcut with the depiction of a fictitious arch adorned with detailed decorations of all kinds. This work of art can be described as a precursor to a poster. The gigantic woodcut, created by Albrecht Dürer himself, measured almost 3 meters in width and 3.60 meters in height. It was intended for display in town halls and palaces, so that it could be viewed by as many people as possible. Around 700 copies of the first version, produced in 1517/1518, were created and distributed as gifts mainly to imperial cities and princes. Anyone who received such an honorable gift from the emperor displayed it in the most conspicuous place possible. In this way, the recipient illustrated how favored they were by the emperor – while also spreading the emperor’s message.
The Triumphal Arch was also a means of self-representation for Maximilian I, showcasing all the events he wished to be recognized for. Today, it is difficult to imagine how much time and attention such a depiction received. While we live in an age of abundant imagery, most people in the early modern period only knew images from churches and public spaces. Those fortunate enough to see a painting took their time to look at it, to absorb as many details as possible and then went on to discuss them in depth with others. To help viewers remember what they had seen, Maximilian had explanatory texts written in rhyming German.
Medals as Another PR Tool As with the Theuerdank and the Triumphal Arch, Maximilian took inspiration from something he had seen elsewhere and developed it further to create his representative pfennigs. He was inspired by the medals he had seen at the court of Charles the Bold. Giovanni de Candida had been working there since November 1467. He was not a craftsman like the engravers at Hall, but a highly educated man, a cortegiano and gentiluomo of the kind produced by the Renaissance period. Born around 1445, probably in Naples, he had been one of the people that were closest to the Roman medal engraver Lysippos. Giovanni di Candida was as skilled a painter as he was a goldsmith. He knew to enchant other with subtle conversation and impeccable manners. Charles the Bold appointed him a secretary to secure his loyalty. In this role, Candida was privy to all of his master’s secrets. Following Charles’ death on 5 January 1577, Candida must have hoped to find a new position with Maximilian. This is the context of the medal created for the weddings of Maximilian and Mary of Burgundy on 19 August 1477. However, Maximilian and Giovanni di Candida were apparently unable to reach an agreement. From 1480, Candida worked for the French court.
However, Maximilian had recognized the potential of the medal. Like prints, medals enabled him to spread his image far and wide. After the death of Sigismund of Tyrol in 1496, he was in control of the Hall mint. It specialized in producing large, impressive silver issues. The guldiner, a technical masterpiece, had been invented there as recently as in 1486. Maximilian combined the guldiner with the concept of a medal, thus creating representative pfennigs, i.e. coins – the word “pfennig” meant “coin” in early High New German – that were not only intended to be a means of payment but works of art that should be looked at. Maximilian himself supervised the design process and seems to have given his approval to every single one of the final drafts. For instance, a contemporary source tells us, that he rejected a die because “the nose was a little too high, the face too long, and the abdomen too large”. A letter from the imperial envoy Hieronymus Cassola to Maximilian in 1508 tells us that the representative pieces were well received by their target audience: “When I was in another legation, many princes and nobles asked me with great ambition and desire for coins bearing Your Majesty’s imperial portrait.”
Bianca Sforza, the Condottiere’s Grand-Daughter
The 1506 piece showing the double portrait of Maximilian and Bianca Maria Sforza is probably the rarest representative coin of this era. In general, unlike it had been the case with Mary of Burgundy, the emperor’s self-portrayal paid little attention to this woman. Some tried to explain this by arguing that Maximilian had loved his first wife and despised his second. This is romanticized nonsense. Self-promotion had nothing to do with love. Bianca Maria Sforza was hidden away wherever possible because she was the granddaughter of an illegitimately born mercenary leader who had replaced the Visconti as rulers of Milan thanks to his physical strength and enterprise. His son, Galeazzo Maria Sforza, used his wealth to secure an emperor as his son-in-law. Maximilian only married Bianca in 1493 for her dowry of 400,000 ducats in cash and 40,000 ducats’ worth of jewels. She was probably an embarrassment to Maximilian, particularly after the Sforza were expelled from Milan in 1499. It is often said that he left his wife and her entourage behind as collateral whenever he could not repay a debt. Therefore, the 1506 guldiner featuring the portraits of Maximilian and Bianca was certainly not an imperial project. This is confirmed by the accounts of the Hall mint office of 1506. These accounts explicitly state that Benedikt Burkhart created the model for the representative pfennig without having been commissioned by the emperor. The mint office accounts also tell us that the engraver made four patterns at his own expense and gave them to the queen. We do not know whether more specimens were produced after these initial patterns. Is this the reason why this coin is so rare today?
Mary, Heiress of Burgundy
Mary, on the other hand, fit the emperor’s image. This was probably the reason why, immediately after the death of Bianca Maria Sforza on 31 December 1510, Maximilian commissioned a wedding guldiner featuring the portrait of his first wife. Bianca was to be erased from public memory as quickly as possible. After all, a high-hearted – this is the word used in the circumscription – Archduke of Austria and Burgundy should not marry an upstart, but someone like Mary, daughter of Charles the Bold, heiress of Burgundy and Brabant. This was important to Maximilian, rather than her pretty little nose and grey-brown eyes, despite the fact that the newlywed praised her beauty in a letter.
The Last Knight and Tournaments
Maximilian I particularly enjoyed being depicted as a knight on horseback in full armor, en route to a tournament. This 1509 double representative guldiner is a wonderful testament to this. The reverse shows all the coats of arms carried in front of their owners at the tournament, while the herald proclaimed the participants’ titles. At the time, tournaments were the most important and the most expensive leisure activity for the nobility. It was risky to take part in them – not only because fatal accident occurred time and again. If you were defeated in a jousting tournament, the opponent was allowed to take your armor and your horse. This was a bitter loss given the high replacement costs! Maximilian organized such events time and again. He constantly ordered new armor from the best Augsburg smiths. He wore them during the tournaments – even when he did not take part himself, but only watched. However, this became too expensive over time. So Maximilian set up an imperial workshop to produce armor in Innsbruck that employed 13 craftsmen and had an annual budget of 1,000 guldens. This had to cover not only wages, but also material costs.
However, no one would have thought to ride into battle wearing such magnificent armor. Even if this depiction wants us to believe otherwise. The “king and the most powerful prince over most of the European provinces”, as the circumscription reads, was almost 60 years old in 1518 – the time this piece was minted – and had only a few months to live. The days when he went into battle as a youthful hero were long gone.
By that time, Maximilian’s health just allowed him to look down from the magnificent balcony with the Golden Roof in Innbruck onto the square where he had once organized the most magnificent tournaments. He will have remembered this fondly when he looked at the woodcuts in the third book he financed: the Freydal tells the story of a young knight, easily identifiable as Maximilian I, who proves his true worth in 64 tournaments. Almost always victorious, he wins the hand of a powerful Queen – but he has to find and win her first, which is why this work leads seamlessly to the plot of the Theuerdank.
Once again, Maximilian is not remembered as a bankrupt, but as a pomp-loving Renaissance prince without material worries. The fact that Maximilian’s splendor was largely financed by an Augsburg banker, who in return became the first German merchant to rise to the rank of imperial count, pales behind these images. And the fact that Innsbruck merchants refused to grant the court any credit in the year the last representative guldiner was minted, is also pushed into the background. Maximilian had no choice but to leave Innsbruck, and to travel to a city where he was supplied with food on credit. It is said that he became so angry that he suffered a stroke and died shortly afterwards in Wels on 12 January 1519.