Ferdinand III is no longer a “forgotten emperor.” In addition to Lothar Höbelt's lengthy Ferdinand III (1608–1657). Friedenskaiser wider Willen (Graz, 2008), we now have Mark Hengerer's version of the story, detailed enough to meet the standards of all but the most compulsive researcher. Hengerer himself suggests that the two works be evaluated comparatively. Although considerations of space here preclude so rigorously systematic an evaluation, a reviewer must try to answer at least the first question that readers are likely to ask: Are the books different enough to require future scholars to consult both of them should they take up the topic again?
Both studies cover similar and familiar ground in the complex political and military narrative of Central Europe and the Thirty Years’ War—its run up, its conduct, and its minimally less tortured aftermath. Both books underscore repeatedly the lesson that historians of the Habsburg imperium absorb from day one of graduate study: The dynasty's ambitions and commitments always exceeded its capacities to fund them. Both authors find that Ferdinand III persistently hoped the conflict and its several territorial sideshows would enhance Habsburg influence in Europe and did not take setbacks lightly. Hengerer goes so far as to claim that losses affected the emperor physically. They also agree that this was a Habsburg ruler who routinely distinguished between personal piety and political necessity. Both books make the point that Pope Urban VIII and Ferdinand III were far from natural allies. Indeed, given the easy cynicism the drawn-out conflict inspired in contemporaries, one wonders a bit about Hengerer's report that the Vienna regime could not understand the alliance of Catholic France and Protestant Sweden. Each of the works stresses the instrumental role of Sweden in the conflict and the problems the Vasa regimes created for governments in Vienna. Both books give very useful attention to the Spanish role in the hostilities. And intentionally or not, both authors reveal that for all of the secular ambitions participants brought to the Thirty Years’ War, religious identities would divide the peoples of Central Europe for a long time to come.
Regardless of these commonalities, each book reaches those conclusions by way of different scholarly strategies. The colossal bibliographies that end each volume tell the tale: they have only eighty or so published primary sources and secondary sources in common. Höbelt explored more Czech archives; Hengerer, more papal materials. Even when they consulted the same general archival collections, they did not always select identical materials. Höbelt, moreover, concentrates relentlessly on the political-military “times” of Ferdinand III. His illustrations tell us far more about the general context of his story than the sedate dynastic portraiture that Hengerer uses heavily. Höbelt is bent on demystifying the Habsburgs. Where he has cause to criticize, he does so vigorously. Hengerer is critical, but less truculent.
Both books make use of fragmentary citations from Ferdinand himself and those close to him to create an impression of the emperor's character. Hengerer's efforts, however, are far more extensive. In one of his several leisurely, but informative, asides, he explores Ferdinand's education in some detail, something that Höbelt dismisses in a paragraph or so. Presented by Hengerer, Ferdinand emerges as a quite decent if somewhat indolent fellow: obedient as a child—even his parents seem to have approved of him—conventionally devout, yet schooled well enough to reflect on the radical scientific speculation of his time and to grasp the applications of contemporary ideas of sovereignty to his own territorial position. One could only wish that Hengerer had elaborated a bit more on notations that the young archduke appears to have made in a contemporary mirror of princes, the Lucerna. Naturally indolent though he was, Ferdinand was well suited to some important managerial tasks. Naming the experienced, energetic, and loyal Maximilian Trauttmannsdorf his court major domo was spot on at a court where corruption, especially in financial management, was far from unknown. How an emperor canny enough to make such an appointment could have found the ruthless Maximilian I of Bavaria nicer than most people thought him to be is a mystery.
Hengerer is also more focused on the cultural side of Ferdinand's establishment. Like most of his immediate ancestors, he considered himself a military commander; indeed, weaponry and its practical application in the hunt engaged him from his youth. Should those amusements pale, he occasionally bowled and played at a prototype of tennis. Music, however, was his most serious after-hours commitment. Hengerer discusses this musicologically and philosophically. A welcome add-on is an appendix by professional musicologists Klaus Hubmann and Christine Pollerus. There is also a CD of contemporary music at Ferdinand's court, including a saraband written by Ferdinand himself. Stately, even heavy-footed, it expresses the gravitas that baroque Habsburgs brought to their public selves. If a reader wants Ferdinand III served up in all his splendors, Hengerer is the author of choice. If one is looking for a Habsburg presented with an attitude, Höbelt will be the book of choice. Either way, one will come away far better versed in the historical dynamics at work in seventeenth-century Central Europe.
Reader, take your choice if you must, but do not forget that both studies are there!
