Today, within the confines of Cologne, a noisy and crowded affair is referred to as a ‘Gülichs Leve’ – a ‘Gülich's life’. This expression refers to one of the most spectacular rebellions of the early modern Holy Roman Empire of the German nation and its leader, the merchant Nikolaus Gülich (1644–86). This article is concerned not so much with the politics of the rebellion but with the way in which Gülich and his middlemen appealed to public opinion. It will be argued that these men knew how to influence public opinion effectively within the urban space of Cologne. By following this line of argument, the ‘rebellion’ can be interpreted as a mobilization of public opinion with the specific aim of inspiring collective action.Footnote 1 My aim is to examine the organization of the rebellion from a communicational point of view, to show clearly how Gülich's exploitation of the media and the networks of communication within the urban community allowed him to use the city as a ‘resonating box’.
Recent studies of urban culture in early modern Europe have outlined the logic of communication and media. In these living complexes, gossip networks existed, news and rumours were multiplied, forbidden bestsellers were in circulation, all sorts of handwritten and printed news were available and the constant flow of orally transmitted news was often connected to the lively world of authors, printers and publishers, stimulating the publication of all sorts of prints.Footnote 2 What I perceive as the echo effects – the interplay of oral, written and printed reactions to an initial act of observation or communication – are interpreted metaphorically as the main feature of the urban space functioning as a resonating box. My argument is based on the concept of constant observation existing within the ‘culture of presence’ of early modern urban space, as formulated by Rudolf Schlögl.Footnote 3 In his approach, the political arena was under increased scrutiny from a sensitized urban public that included communities from all social backgrounds. As a consequence, both the political actors and the public became aware of this collective state of observation and the processes of decision-making that took place in a society based on presence (‘Anwesenheitsgesellschaft’). Thus, the whole political process became highly susceptible to local acts of communication.Footnote 4
To highlight further the correlation between public opinion and political actors in a setting of turmoil, tumult or rebellion I follow the path taken by Andreas Würgler in his interpretation of unrest in German towns and cities.Footnote 5 Although historians like Robert Darnton have repeatedly pointed towards the need to examine both the processes of communication as well as the events of ‘revolutionary’ happenings,Footnote 6 most studies focusing on urban conflicts in the early modern period do not follow this advice.Footnote 7 Würgler was the first to focus prominently on the public sphere and public opinion, including the forms of interplay and the complementarity of oral, written and printed means of communication during these conflicts.
In focusing on the various ways in which Gülich sought to publicize his claims, it can be argued that, in the ‘Gutenberg galaxy’,Footnote 8 the mobilization of a politically relevant public opinion for a political purpose became increasingly a matter of media organization. Although it is very difficult to quantify the number of texts (handwritten and printed) that were in circulation during the affair in question, or to name all of their exact titles, we are informed from a lot of contextual archive material, ex negativo, that these texts existed in their hundreds, that their contents were discussed within the city and that a sensitized public interest was outlined as potentially powerful.Footnote 9 This entangled perception of the existence of a public opinion and its dependence on the levels of media circulation leads, at a wider level, to the conclusion that the process and timing whereby a politically relevant public sphere was established as a principle in European history has finally to be freed from the contested interpretation of Jürgen Habermas.Footnote 10
The reasons why Gülich intervened in the 1680s in the operation of local politics in Cologne, leading to his eventual takeover of power for a couple of months, were similar to other uprisings or rebellious acts in free and imperial cities of the seventeenth century. Free and imperial cities like Cologne had the status of imperial immediacy (‘Reichsunmittelbarkeit’) under the jurisdiction of the emperor, which made them self-governing communes that were controlled by a council (‘Rat’) and elected by the enfranchised burghers (‘Bürger’). During the seventeenth century, the urban government in these privileged cities became more oligarchic and key positions on the city councils were controlled by a semi-hereditary patriciate. This process stirred up regular disputes as well as uprisings and rebellious acts carried out by the politically entitled burghers in free and imperial cities. The debates and clashes in Aachen (1612), Frankfurt (1616), Hamburg (1650, 1657, 1663, 1667, 1674 and 1712) have received scholarly attention.Footnote 11 Actors like Gülich regularly accused their city council of corruption, often demanded a public inquiry, the prosecution of the offending councillors and the election of a new city council. Because the status of these cities was founded on imperial privileges, the emperor was entitled in cases of conflict to send a special intervening commission with a temporary mandate to these cities. These commissions were mostly led by members of the imperial chamber court (‘Reichskammergericht’), the imperial aulic council (‘Reichshofrat’) and were supported by military troops.Footnote 12
The political power structure of Cologne had been established in 1396 in the document known as the ‘Verbundbrief’. It was agreed that through an ongoing process of co-optation, an elected city council of 49 members, including two ruling mayors, would rule the city. Those allowed to vote in Cologne were the burghers (the ‘Bürgerschaft’), consisting of roughly one fifth to one quarter of the population, who were organized in 22 different corporate groups, the ‘Gaffeln’.Footnote 13 In theory, the politics of the city council were controlled by a second authority – the council of the ‘Bannerherren’ – consisting of two members of each Gaffel, numbering 44 in total. However, by the seventeenth century, the power structure had become quite unbalanced and an increase in the abuse of power and misuse of authority was observed. Decades of strategic voting behaviour by the members of the two councils had established a de facto nepotistic political atmosphere. As a result, the burghers’ criticism of their elected councils became harsher throughout the 1670s. In 1676, the ongoing complaints of the burghers led to an internal commission of inquiry (‘General-Inquisition’) that had the task of investigating the excesses of the political arena.Footnote 14 Due to the failure of this inquiry to take any significant action, Gülich began a movement whose aim was not to create a new order but to return the city to a state of legitimate government (or so he claimed). The movement ended in 1685 after a turbulent period, with the arrival of an imperial commission and Gülich's subsequent public execution.Footnote 15
Gülich's mobilization of public opinion: January 1680 to June 1683
In September 1679, the burgher Nikolaus Gülich, 35 years old and a sworn-in member of the ‘Gaffel Himmelreich’, claimed in a speech at the Gaffelhouse that the commission of inquiry should be forced to find fault with the political situation in Cologne. He articulated the burghers’ wish that the power structure established in 1396 and confirmed in 1513 should be adhered to. His popularity rose as he studied the details of the ‘Verbundsbrief’ (1396) and the ‘Transfixbrief’ (1513), leading him to demand a return to the principles of these documents for the common good and to confront the ruling mayor Caspar von Cronenberg in June 1680 in a public debate.Footnote 16 In September 1680, Gülich produced a manuscript addressed to the city council, announcing the popular demand that the commission of inquiry (which had begun in 1676) come to a verdict.
A document personally delivered to the city council naturally piqued the interest of the observing public, and as a result the event was talked about. Within days, the communities of Cologne knew the demand had been made and that it had been handwritten. As the chronicle Theatrum Europaeum noted a few years later, rumours of this event circulated throughout the whole city (‘Dieses Gerücht erschallete durch die gantze Stadt’).Footnote 17 The effect within a state of constant observation was the creation and circulation of murmurs (‘allerhand Gemürmel’) about the topic.Footnote 18 While these ‘Gemürmel’ implied that Gülich should be elected mayor and be given the opportunity to curtail the political abuses,Footnote 19 the ‘Gemürmel’ also reached the ears of the members of the city council or their family networks. The city acted as a resonating box, transporting murmurs of political details from mouth to mouth and from ear to ear. In a culture of presence, society was dominated by face-to-face interactions. Curiosity, interest and normal social behaviour were the main forces stimulating conversations in taverns and inns, on market squares and streets, in front of churches, in a discussion between a barber and his wife or in a comment from a servant of a member of the city council to a friend at the weekly market.Footnote 20 It was the daily contact between people that established collective attention to Gülich's topic and furthermore to the shortcomings of the city council.
This observation on the part of the urban public opened the way to the establishment of a new committee of 44 deputies (elected by the Gaffeln), which would support the official ‘General-Inquisition’. As the deputy of the Gaffel Himmelreich, Nikolaus Gülich was one of these 44 men, who, in pushing the investigation forward, discovered the excessive abuses of power of three former and actual mayors.Footnote 21 Owing to rumours circulating about these abuses, one of the accused mayors, Jakob von Wolfskehl, fled from the city four months prior to the delivery of the verdict by the inquisition, in April 1681. The omnipresence of these rumours within the urban space of Cologne was stimulated by anonymous pamphlets addressing the mayor in person;Footnote 22 by illustrated broadsheets mocking his memory;Footnote 23 and finally with the publication of the official indictment of the ‘General-Inquisition’.Footnote 24 The latter was an exclusive manuscript to be circulated solely among the committee members, but it was slipped to one of the many printing presses of Cologne, presumably by Gülich himself.
In April came the official printed version of the verdict: the three mayors and their middlemen were all found guilty and lost their positions. The verdict was read aloud in public and posted in popular places about the city, generating further discussions in the taverns.Footnote 25 A new imperial commission of inquiry was established in support of the ousted mayors, which began its work with the publication of a single-sheet print defending the old order.Footnote 26 Each publication was accompanied by comments and rumours on the new information, thus keeping the dynamics of collective observation going. In his first letter to the emperor in Vienna, one member of the freshly established imperial commission reported that the public in Cologne seemed highly sensitive to the issue of political abuses, and that the development of competing factions seemed likely.Footnote 27 This atmosphere of competition was characterized by the ongoing production of printed publications coupled with the oral circulation of the same news within the city. The quickened circulation established a contemporary sensitivity to the omnipresence of rumours, accusations, demands, comments and suggestions. Every new detail published by the imperial commission, the city council, by (mostly anonymous) private voices and not least by the accused themselves, can be regarded as part of a strategic stream of media striving to create a favourable public opinion that could help tilt the situation in one's favour. While the stream of pamphlets and edicts kept flowingFootnote 28 in innumerable copies (‘in unzehlbarer Exemplarien’)Footnote 29 – sometimes in volumes of bestseller proportions of about 1,000 copies per titleFootnote 30 – not only was the city acting as a resonating box, but a polyphonic state became constant. This polyphony created more and more dynamics within the Bürgerschaft, which came to the eager attention of the ruling city council members. Several edicts from the city council, which were published during these months, addressed the unwanted (and more likely uncontrollable) polyphony that existed in the political arena of Cologne. The deputies of the Gaffeln, like Gülich, stood in the primary line of fire. A printed edict in February 1681 pronounced that speeches and pamphlets with false comments, accusations and lies directed at members of the city council should be avoided.Footnote 31 The act of distribution (‘Außstrewen’) of oral, handwritten or printed details caught the particular attention of the city council and every edict of the day forbade it. For example, the edict of 26 February 1681 banned the distribution and discussion of news within the city (‘Verbott des spargirens und auß strebens’). All burghers, residents and inhabitants were told not to write or talk about the local situation apart from what the city council would officially announce via prints.Footnote 32 The texts of the many edicts of March and April 1681 all sound more or less the same: unwanted details and news were categorized as ‘pasquills’, as bad rumours. Owners and workers of bookshops (‘Buchführeren’) and print shops (‘Druckeren’) were particularly addressed, because these people were crucial in the ongoing distribution and production of new pamphlets.Footnote 33 The dynamics of the polyphony observed within the political arena of Cologne even led to a pre-emptive edict of the city council, which forbade the carrying of weapons within the city.Footnote 34
Meanwhile, Gülich pressed forward and demanded deeper investigations into the political abuses of the elites.Footnote 35 In September 1681, he handed in a new manuscript to the city council that articulated his views of the future investigations.Footnote 36 He indicated that due to the constitutional documents of Cologne, the Gaffeln were the strongholds of politics and therefore the Gaffeln should rule on any question concerning the political arena. By this time, Gülich was one of the main catalysts of urban public opinion, albeit mainly of the burghers. He was well aware of the effective interplay between speaking, writing, printing and, not to be forgotten, acting. Moreover, he knew how to mobilize his public for political purposes. He was a regular speaker at the 22 Gaffelhouses of Cologne and he used the taverns and inns to get himself heard among the various other social communities of the city. He and his middlemen created a network through the hundreds of legal and illegal taverns and inns of Cologne; they held speeches, distributed pamphlets and stimulated discussions addressing the abuses of the political arena.Footnote 37 His organized access to the alcohol-driven hotspots of early modern society guaranteed that his ideas would circulate from the beer-benches (‘Bier-Bäncken’) to both the private homes and the public places of Cologne.
Gülich was well aware of the fact that public opinion could be effectively influenced within the world of taverns and inns. This space, being simultaneously private and public, was usually packed with people from all social backgrounds, and therefore constituted an arena where contested notions of community and society could be addressed and defended. The tavern sociability, with its culture of regular confrontations and fights, could have lasting effects on local politics, as the historiography of early modern European cities has repeatedly pointed out.Footnote 38 And Gülich knew how to attract attention and inspire emotions. After a speech at the Gaffelhouse ‘Himmelreich’ on 19 August 1682, a large crowd assembled to demand the presentation of an ultimatum to the city council asking for further investigations. The city council reacted to this event by arresting Gülich. His arrest (he was held captive in a monastery) attracted even more attention to his cause and support for his opinions of the political arena. Two of his middlemen, Abraham Sax and Anton Meshov, smuggled paper, ink and quills into his cell, enabling Gülich to produce protest texts (‘Schrifften’) which were distributed and read aloud in public all over the city.Footnote 39 There is even the possibility that Gülich managed to get his texts read from the pulpits by sympathetic priests – the most effective way to address a large audience in late seventeenth-century Europe.Footnote 40 Even if this contemporary hint is misleading and Gülich had not had contact with the priesthood (unlikely in a city of over 200 churches, convents, monasteries and chapels), news of his arrest circulated nonetheless through Cologne to the effect that a crowd gathered in front of the monastery where he was imprisoned. Within days, the city council was confronted by a vociferous public and had to set Gülich free (‘welches auch soviel gewircket / daß der Magistrat den gefangenen Gülich wiederum hatt loß lassen und auff freyen Fuß stellen müssen’).Footnote 41 With the support of the other 43 deputies of the Gaffeln and the sensitized public opinion of the burghers backing him, Gülich was able to claim a public restitution due to his arrest. By the actions of the Gaffeln and the burghers, the city council was more or less forced to allow Gülich a triumphal procession upon his release on 8 December, escorted by 400 city soldiers en route through the city. Even though his star was rising, his strategy of communication remained the same: he produced pamphlets condemning suspected abusers of the political arena while his middlemen took care of the printing, distribution and oral promotion of the titles (and their contents) within Cologne.Footnote 42
In February 1683, the burghers began rattling their sabres by sending an armed faction to march on city hall. In April, using the slogan ‘Gülich's cause is the city's cause’ (‘Gülichs Sach, gemeiner Stadt Sach’), intensity increased when supporters of Gülich's politics in the Gaffelhouses appointed themselves as commissioners of the still ongoing inquiry – provoking harsh protests from the city council. An edict from the latter dated May 1683 condemned these developments, branding them as illegal and accusing Gülich of being the ringleader (‘Rädelsführer’) of a group of blinded tools (‘blinde Werckzeuge’).Footnote 43 What followed was a forced meeting of the city council brought about by the presence of about 200 armed burghers on 31 May, then a peaceful confrontation of armed burgher and city soldiers in front of the city hall on 2 June. A military escalation was averted when the soldiers decided to side with the burghers. With this event, Gülich effectively held power over the city.Footnote 44 His first orders were to suspend and imprison certain members of the city council.
The ebb and flow of public opinion: July 1683 to March 1686
After gaining power, Gülich immediately established a new general inquiry (‘Generalinquisition’) into the abuses of the political arena. In his own words, he was motivated to strengthen the good and to punish the bad (‘umb daß gute zu befürdern und das böse gebührend zu bestraffen’).Footnote 45 The priorities of the new inquisition included: the questioning of all members of the city council, the election of a new city council, the nomination of two new mayors and finally the nomination of Gülich to a newly created position, entitled ‘Syndicus specialis’. The imperial commission reacted straightaway to these events by publishing three edicts condemning the ‘heavy’ political struggles (‘schwehren streitigkeiten’) that had taken place, the details of which were widely distributed in Cologne.Footnote 46 The publications called on the anonymous public of the burghers to become reasonable, ignore Gülich and listen instead to the imperial commission. These edicts threatened Gülich and his middlemen with banishment from the Empire (‘Reichsbann’) and the effect was to split public opinion, damaging the support Gülich had enjoyed as a result. The Theatrum Europaeum stated a few years later that the ‘Bürgerschaft’ was very divided (‘sehr zertheilet’), supporting either Gülich or the order of the imperial commission.Footnote 47
What happens when dissent outweighs consensus within early modern societies? Acts of armed turmoil were the consequence in Cologne. Armed supporters gathered and released the members of the old city council previously arrested by Gülich; houses were looted, blackmail became common and one member of the ‘Bannerherren’ was shot. As a result of this turmoil, the imperial commission fled Cologne and settled in nearby Mülheim, located on the western shore of the Rhine.Footnote 48 Gülich's men, working in tandem with the removal of the imperial commission, produced two printed pamphlets aiming to regain momentum in the battle for public opinion. Taverns and other popular public places, especially the many city gates and church doors (‘auff der Statt-Thor / Strassen / Ecken und Kirchen’) had been supplied with these prints, so both the pamphlets and their themes were circulated widely within the city. While the first pamphlet praised the work and actions of the new city council of Gülich, the second was an anonymous critique of one of the accused abusers of the political arena, Arnold Judendunck.Footnote 49
Both pamphlets were aimed as media catalysts thrown into the political arena and have to be regarded as complementary, attacking and legitimizing at the same time. The need for legitimizing actions grew, at least in Gülich's eyes, because he believed that the threats of the imperial commission had been the result of a misunderstanding in Vienna. In a letter of 30 July, Gülich commented to a friend that perhaps one of the present aulic counsellors had written an inaccurate report to Vienna regarding the happenings in Cologne.Footnote 50 In September 1683, Gülich ordered a delegation to Vienna to clear the air with the imperial throne. The attempt proved futile. By the time the delegation returned from Vienna, in March 1684, the situation had become more precarious for Gülich. Three imperial edicts from December 1683 and February 1684, all published within Cologne, threatened the city with harsh consequences if all the demands of the imperial commission were not immediately fulfilled.Footnote 51 The central demand was simple – that Gülich and his men should step down.
The threat of economic burdens and military intervention from the empire, coupled with Gülich's increasingly damaged reputation and the disappointment of many of his followers with his inability to bring about the promised changes to the political arena, gradually deprived Gülich's rebellion of momentum. Confronted with fading support and the continuing but now unwanted polyphony within the arena, Gülich and his men reacted with their tried and tested method: printed weapons that were almost inevitably followed by oral communication. The many contemporary pamphlets condemning Gülich's actions that were now circulating in the cityFootnote 52 needed to be answered and confronted through pamphlets and prints of his own. It seems that Gülich felt the need to document publicly the legality of his actions in print. Therefore, the new city council pushed forward a series of legitimizing prints aiming to remind the burgher of the rightfulness of Gülich's intervention in the name of the political constitution of Cologne. To this end, the ‘Verbundt-Brieff’ of 1396, the ‘Transfix-Brieff’ of 1513 and the declaration of the ‘Bürger Freyheit’ were also distributed within the urban space, together with a title that set up a summary of the future goals of the new city council.Footnote 53 Alongside this offensive strategy of distributing favourable prints and opinions, defensive tactics of controlling the distribution of unwanted prints and opinions were used as well. The new city council published an edict in 1684 that forbade defamatory publications and slander.Footnote 54 The nervousness of the new rulers became obvious when even secret meetings were generally forbidden.Footnote 55
Ultimately, all the efforts of Gülich's men to mobilize favourable public opinion within the political arena of Cologne failed. In June 1685, when Vienna threatened the whole city with the status of outlawry and the ‘Reichsbann’ – which would mean the loss of all privileges that the free imperial city and its burghers enjoyed – the end of Gülich's reign was near.Footnote 56 On 11 August, the status of outlawry was declared and a few days later Gülich and his middlemen were arrested by a group of burghers. The ringleaders were then handed over to the imperial representatives. In order to rid the city of Gülich's writings (‘brieffschaften’, ‘Concepten’ and ‘Schrifften’), which could easily be published in printed form at any time, it was announced by the commission at several crowed places that all texts and prints concerning Gülich still in circulation must be handed in.Footnote 57 Meanwhile, the interrogation of Gülich focused on the techniques of production and distribution of pamphlets and ideas within the urban space. Of particular interest to the imperial commission were the networks that enabled Gülich to mobilize public opinion to his own political purpose.Footnote 58 As it became more and more obvious how influential Gülich's ideas and texts had become during the preceding years, his interrogators acted pre-emptively by removing paper, ink and quills from his cell. Even without Gülich's active participation in the continuous debate and flurry of publication that took place in the taverns and on the streets of Cologne, which addressed the rightfulness of his political actions and the abuses of the old city council, the polyphony within the urban space rose dramatically. While the now re-established old city council published edict after edict that forbade the kind of unwanted opinions and prints and the accompanying oral commentary that had caused them so much trouble, prints supportive of Gülich continued to appear.Footnote 59 In the winter of 1685–86, all these prints in his favour – only visible historically ex negativo via the edicts addressing them – were categorized as ‘pasquills’. This stigmatized them as false opinions created by liars.Footnote 60 Reacting to this flood of unwanted printed opinions, the city council planned the symbolic destruction of several pamphlets in January 1686 by having them first destroyed at the pillory and then burned publicly.Footnote 61 To get to the authors, printers and distributors of the ‘pasquills’, the city council announced a 1,000 Taler reward for denunciations.Footnote 62 Apparently, such announcements did not have the desired effect, as no major denunciations were reported and the city council even went as far as to announce its intent to hunt down future readers of such malicious and annoying publications (‘boßhafft undt ärgerliche Paßquillen’).Footnote 63 At least two of the many contemporary circulating publications (in manuscript and print) were so popular that they were still in circulation and were reprinted until 1704.Footnote 64
In February 1686, the temporarily established court of the imperial commission decided on the verdicts against the accused rebels. Gülich and Abraham Sax were sentenced to death by publicly performed decapitation. Anton Meshov was sentenced to heavy corporal punishment, and many more were banished for life from the city, sentenced to different degrees of corporal punishment, or sentenced to time at the pillory.Footnote 65 As the designated chief and ringleader (‘Haupt=Rebell vnnd Rädels=Führer der gantzen Sedition’) as well as manager of the rebels (‘Director . . . allen Aufrühreren’), Gülich was executed on 23 February. The execution process itself was arranged within the early modern modus of deterrence and retaliation, i.e. theatrically performed.Footnote 66 First, the verdict was read aloud in front of a gathering crowd. Then, followed the decapitation. After that, Gülich's oath-fingers, the forefinger and second finger, were cut off. Finally, the body was buried outside Cologne, and his head was very visibly placed upon an iron bar at the top of the Bayenturm, one of Cologne's city towers.
On the day of the execution, several prints were sold; most of them were anonymous but obviously penned by opponents of Gülich. He was called a troublemaker (‘Aufwickler’) and arch-rebel (‘Ertz=Rebellen’).Footnote 67 This vocabulary was in keeping with the words of the verdict and indictment, where Gülich was explicitly blamed for his organizational, executive and communicative actions in the rebellion. Much space was also used to highlight Gülich's organization of public opinion via oral, handwritten and printed impulses. His pamphlets in particular were blamed, described as printed weapons that opened the way to mobilization and brought his rebellious plans into actual effect (‘umb sein böß aufrührrisch undt rebellisch vorhaben zum effect zu bringen’). Everything that appeared in print (‘in offenen Truck’) and was critical of the old order was generally categorized as unwanted opinion, and in the specific case of Gülich, as a rebellious act.Footnote 68 Interestingly, the public sphere and its dynamics were characterized ex negativo by the authorities as an effective arena for political action. Gülich proved this and the wording of the verdict against him unintentionally confirmed it. His strategy of sending media impulses (orally, written and printed) into a resonating box was harshly criticized – notably, even more harshly than his actions. The way in which public opinion was organized and mobilized to rebellion was finally referred to as a rebellious opera (‘rebellische opera’). The ambiguous term ‘opera’ is, as the plural form of the Latin term opus, just a reference to the rebellious deeds; but at the same time, there is a hint that rebellion in an urban space is only a matter of orchestration.
To prevent the emergence of a possible cult of Gülich, the city council voted to destroy his house and in its place erected a column, on the top of which stood a bronze head bearing Gülich's features, pierced by a sword (see Figure 1). This double-headed strategy of damnatio memoriae was nothing new. The policy of removing an object (in this case Gülich's home) and replacing it with a warning column was one the Romans had used against enemies.Footnote 69
Contemporary drawing of the column (‘Gülich-Säule’), which stood in Cologne until 1797 (HACC 7030/Chroniken und Dartsellungen/237).
In other urban rebellions of the early modern Holy Roman Empire, for example in Frankfurt in 1616 or in Aachen in 1612, the same procedure of dealing with a defeated uprising took place: execution, the placing of severed heads upon iron bars for everyone to see, demolition of the leaders’ homes and erection of a column in their place.Footnote 70 These particular actions were used to demonstrate to observers that the authorities’ claim to a monopoly of power in urban political space was unquestionable. In May 1687, in order to calm the highly volatile public opinion in Cologne, the emperor in Vienna granted a general amnesty to the burghers and to all former supporters of Gülich.Footnote 71
‘Rebellious’ formation of power
Gülich's ‘rebellious’ formation of power – as it was termed by the imperial authorities – was, in nuce, a series of organized collective actions that were initiated and orchestrated by a media campaign. The quality of this kind of organization of public opinion for political purposes, the ‘orchestration’, was contemporarily labelled with good reason with the ambiguous term ‘opera’. Due to the strategic organization of Gülich and his middlemen, the events in Cologne in the 1680s should not be interpreted as the result of a spontaneous act of uprising. Gülich's movements followed a plan of action and he was well aware of the way the media operated in ‘his’ city. As a political actor, he and his contemporaries seemed to know the dynamics of politics in an urban space and he made use of these dynamics to enforce his own political agenda. Following Rudolf Schlögl's concept of early modern urban sociality, this situation, characterized by the fact that observers of politics were also actors using media, is called an integrated public sphere.Footnote 72 As has been demonstrated, decision-making in a city that acted as a resonating box in situations of political crisis and of political sensitivity was highly dependent on media impulses.
On a wider level, it can be argued that political processes in the urban space of the ‘Gutenberg Galaxy’ depended on the media used by the participants present. The formation of order and protest took place both through actions and acts of communication, i.e. by using media impulses ranging from oral to handwritten and printed transmission. To reach an audience, to then mobilize it and to defend their own opinions from antagonists, Gülich and his men made use of a combination of speeches and written and printed texts. In doing so, they acted within the range of communicative possibilities in early modern Europe. From the sixteenth century onwards, written texts and print quickly prevailed in a society based on presence, especially in urban contexts. The Gülich rebellion paradigmatically points out the new patterns of political processes that became available in the ‘Gutenberg Galaxy’. On the one hand, the faster pace of circulation of news enabled quickened communication in the political arena. On the other hand, it became relatively easy for individuals and groups to participate in the business of publishing. With the option of doing so, the desire to guide others (i.e. the expected and real audiences of the communication) through the growing polyphony of the period increased. Not only to observe, but to get involved in politics by using oral, handwritten and especially printed stimuli became a structural feature of the European urban public sphere and of the political arena surrounded by city walls.Footnote 73 Gülich became a highly influential man within the political arena of Cologne because he influenced the urban public sphere and, more importantly, the community of political actors (the burghers) through speeches at the Gaffelhouses, inns and taverns and with the distribution of pamphlets at public places. In an urban society based on presence, almost every communicational act created an echo that led respectively to a resonating effect. This was eminently true of orally circulating rumours and news that followed printed pamphlets.
At the beginning, Gülich's mobilization of public opinion was motivated by his perception of the abuses present in the local political arena. In provoking debate among the political members of the city (stimulated by his media impulses) under the observation of the inhabitants of Cologne, he aimed to establish a collective focus on the legitimacy of the behaviour of the city council. As his demands attracted collective support, he was able to bring change to the system that continued to ignore his now widely shared beliefs. From 1683 on, he did not need to follow the unwritten rules for ambitious individual actors in early modern European cites. Negotiation, which was the traditional key to success, was no longer necessary, nor did he need to create solidarity and form alliances to turn his ideas into reality. He was able to by-pass the official decision-making process of elections.Footnote 74 Empowered by his organized political support, grounded in the belief in the benefit his actions would have for the political system of Cologne, and having acquired the collective attention of the public (including more or less everyone living in the city), he managed to realize his goals in the political arena.
Gülich installed the members of a new city council through an ad hoc process and in doing so he broke with the usual mechanisms of election and co-optation. From the perspective of the old city council this could only be regarded as ‘rebellious’ because the legitimacy of the manner in which they had gained these positions was now brought into question. For Gülich, it was not a rebellion. He wanted, at least in the beginning, to bring back a legitimized government – this explains why he sent a mission to Vienna to explain his motivations. Ultimately, the legitimacy of actions for the common good is always determined on the parameters of the contemporary political options.