So successful was Louis in his war against the Venetians that he was able to take from them Dalmatia and exact the promise of a large yearly tribute. This in itself was achievement enough to win him a reputation in Europe, for the ‘Queen of the Adriatic’ was a difficult foe to humble; but Louis also gained public admiration by his enlightened rule. Recognizing how deeply his land was scarred by racial feuds, such as those of the Czechs and Magyars, that have carried their bitterness far into modern times, he set himself to think out equitable laws, which he endeavoured to administer with impartial justice, instead of favouring one race at the expense of another. He also made his court a centre of culture and learning, where his nobles might develop their wits and manners as well as their sword-arms.
One of the chief supporters of Louis in this work of civilization was the Emperor Charles IV, whom we have noticed paying compliments to the citizens of Lübeck. The friendship lasted for several years, until some of the princes of the Empire, weary of Charles’s rule, began to compare the two monarchs, one so sluggish, the other a military hero, and to suggest that the overlord should be deposed in favour of the famous King of Hungary. Louis indignantly repudiated this plot; but Charles, who would hardly have done the same in a like case, could not bring himself to believe him, and in his anger began petulantly to abuse the Queen Mother of Hungary, to whom he knew her son was devoted. This led to recriminations, and finally to a war, in which Charles was so thoroughly beaten that he sued for peace; and outward friendship was restored by the marriage of the Emperor’s son, Sigismund of Luxemburg, with Louis’s daughter Mary.
When Louis died, Poland, that had never wholeheartedly submitted to his rule, gave itself, as we have seen, to King Jagello of Lithuania; while the Hungarians, after some years of anarchy, chose Sigismund of Luxemburg as their king.
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The House of Luxemburg was in the later Middle Ages the chief rival of the Habsburgs, and provided the Empire with some of her most interesting rulers. One of these, the Emperor Henry VII, belongs to an earlier date than that with which we have just been dealing, for he was grandfather of Charles IV. He was a gallant and chivalrous knight, who, but for his unfortunate foreign policy, might have proved himself a good and wise king.
Dante, the greatest of Italian poets, who lived in the days of Henry VII, made him his hero, and hoped that he would save the world by establishing a Ghibelline supremacy that would reform both Church and State. It was Henry VII’s undoing that he believed with Dante that he had been called to this impossible mission; and so he crossed the Alps to try his hand at settling Italian feuds. Germany saw him no more; for soon after his coronation at Rome he fell ill and died, poisoned, it is said, in the cup of wine given him by a priest at Mass.
Discord now broke out in Germany, and it was not till 1348 that another of the House of Luxemburg was chosen King of the Romans. This was Charles IV, a man of a very different type of mind to his grandfather. For Charles Italy had no lure: he only crossed the Alps because he realized that it increased the prestige of the ruler of Germany to be crowned as Emperor by the Pope, and he did not mind at all that he was received without any pomp or respect, only with suspicion and begging demands. As soon as the ceremony was over he hastened back to his own kingdom, turning a deaf ear to all Italian complaints and suggestions.
This hurried journey was certainly undignified for a world-Emperor; but Charles, who had run away in his youth from the battle-field of Creci, was never a heroic figure. Neither the thought of glory nor of duty could stir his sluggish blood; but as far as obvious things were concerned he had a good deal of common sense. At any rate, in sharing Rudolf I’s conviction that Germany should come first in his thoughts he was wiser than his heroic grandfather.
The Golden Bull
To the reign of Charles IV belongs the ‘Golden Bull’, a document so called from its bulla or seal. The ‘Golden Bull’ set forth clearly the exact method of holding an imperial election. Hitherto much of the trouble in disputed elections had arisen because no one had been sure of the correct procedure, and so disappointed candidates, by arguing that something illegal had occurred, were able to refuse allegiance to the successful nominee. Now it was decided that there should be seven Electors—three archbishops and four laymen—and that the ceremony should always take place at Frankfort, the minority agreeing to be bound by the will of the majority.