“Queen Elisabeth of Luxembourg is a forgotten figure in our history, possibly because her life was so short” (73), the author of this monograph states, and one is tempted to add Elisabeth’s sex to the probable reasons for her falling into general oblivion. This seems all the more striking given that, as this study demonstrates, she resolutely defied contemporary gender-stereotypes, displaying exceptional personal courage and strong political initiative. This is echoed in Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini’s characterization of Elisabeth as having “a man’s spirit in a woman’s body” (189). She ruled for only three years and two months between the premature death of her husband, King Albert, on 27 October 1439, and her own untimely death on 19 December 1442. Yet her reign fell into politically challenging times that witnessed a major dynastical shift, namely the end of the Luxembourg dynasty’s rule in Central Europe that had begun a century earlier. Elisabeth was the only surviving child of Emperor Sigismund of Luxembourg (1368-1437), himself a son of Emperor Charles IV. During his lifetime, Sigismund had acquired—in varying circumstances—the crowns of Hungary (1387), Germany (election as King of the Romans in 1411), and Bohemia (1419). In 1433, he was finally crowned Holy Roman Emperor. After protracted negotiations he had married his daughter Elisabeth in 1421 to the Habsburg Duke Albert V of Austria. After Sigismund’s death on 9 December 1437, the question of his succession arose, all the more so as in his three kingdoms the crowns were—to varying degrees—conferred by the estates through election. Moreover, Sigismund had died without a male descendant, in other words, without a “natural” heir. This difficult dynastic and political constellation shaped the last five years of Elisabeth’s short life between her father’s death and her own, which form the focus of Daniela Dvořáková’s study concentrating on the Hungarian case.
After Emperor Sigismund’s death, his son-in-law and putative heir Albert found himself in an unfavorable position regarding the Hungarian succession, since he was perceived as a foreigner and did not speak the language. Moreover, Sigismund’s widow Barbara of Cilli, the “old queen,” commanded considerable resources, exerted great influence in the country, and favored the “Polish connection,” preferring “the Polish Jagellions as successors to the Hungarian and Bohemian thrones” (5). Albert had her imprisoned for alleged conspiracy, thereby alienating her followers. He also attempted to keep Sigismund’s death secret for as long as possible while speeding up his own election in order to outmaneuver the supporters of the Polish King Władysław III. The hurried election took place on 18 December, before news of Sigismund’s demise had spread across the kingdom. The coronation followed on 1 January 1438; in the intervening period, Albert and Elisabeth traveled 145 kilometers from Bratislava, where the election had taken place, to the traditional coronation site in Székesfehérvár. News of the coronation caused local riots to break out. One fault line ran between Albert’s German and Hungarian subjects; additional threats stemmed from the Polish king, who refused to recognize Albert’s coronation, from the followers of the imprisoned Queen Barbara (who, after her release, was stripped of most of her estates), and from increasing Ottoman incursions. The author speaks of a “restless, tumultuous kingdom” (21) the maintenance of which required considerable financial resources that Albert had to raise wherever possible. Resistance to Albert’s ambitions also emerged in Bohemia, but he managed to placate part of the Bohemian estates and was crowned King of Bohemia on 29 June. This, however, did not silence the “Polish party” within the kingdom. When King Władysław invaded Silesia, a fief of the Bohemian crown, in autumn 1438 and threatened its annexation, Albert departed to the Silesian metropolis of Wrocław, leaving Queen Elisabeth in Hungary, where she “faced the uneasy task of defending the kingdom from enemies attacking from each side” (27).
Albert died only one year later, in October 1439, while defending Hungary against Ottoman troops who had previously conquered Serbia. At this point, the focus of the study shifts to Elisabeth who, first in her husband’s absence and then after his death, assumed the role of ruling monarch in Hungary despite numerous obstacles. For many Hungarian magnates, “it was unacceptable that a woman should rule the country” (71), and plans were devised to secure for her an appropriate groom. Furthermore, part of the nobility had maintained close ties with Queen Barbara, and the ambitions of the Polish king—who enjoyed support among the Hungarian magnates—further complicated the situation. Elisabeth’s freedom of action was additionally constrained by her chronic lack of funds. Her policies clashed with the plans of the Hungarian lords who “tried to eliminate Elisabeth’s influence by pressuring her into a new marriage” (74), their preferred candidate being the considerably younger King Władysław. Early in 1440, she escaped in a daring move from Visegrád Castle, where she had been under the auspices of the Hungarian magnates, and fled to Bratislava where she felt safe and where she intended to give birth to her late husband’s child. On the way, she stopped in Komárno, where on 21 February her son Ladislaus, known as the Posthumous, was born. Anticipating the birth of a son, Elisabeth had already arranged, in an even bolder move, for her court lady Helene Kottannerin to steal the royal crown from Visegrád Castle. After Ladislaus’s birth, Elisabeth immediately attempted to halt the ongoing negotiations with the Polish king but failed; Władysław was elected King of Hungary in Cracow on 8 March 1440. In response, Elisabeth had her son, who was merely three months old, hastily crowned with the Holy Crown of St. Stephen at the traditional coronation site in Székesfehérvár on 15 May—a coronation that was rejected by the majority of Hungarian magnates. While in Székesfehérvár she learned that Władysław had seized Buda. Elisabeth, by contrast, established Bratislava as her principal residence. The Hungarian nobility refused to accept Ladislaus’ coronation and had Władysław crowned on 17 July 1440, also in Székesfehérvár, though with a reliquary crown, as the original Holy Crown was in Elisabeth’s possession.
The ensuing civil war, in which Elisabeth’s base lay in Upper Hungary (today’s Slovakia), proved ruinous for a kingdom already threatened by the Ottomans. Daniela Dvořáková reconstructs the actions of the opposing parties in detail, drawing on an impressive body of primary sources, among them, to cite the most notable, the heavily exploited memoirs of Helene Kottannerin and the not less frequently used records of the Bratislava municipality. The study concludes with Elisabeth’s death, which occurred completely unexpectedly, after a short period of illness, on 19 December 1442. The Queen was only 33 years old. Her principal political objective had been to secure what she regarded as her son Ladislaus’s dynastic birthright—a goal she pursued with remarkable tenacity despite growing war-weariness within Hungarian society, which led even loyal supporters to distance themselves from her cause. Consequently, she relied more and more on mercenaries, in particular battle-hardened former Hussite captains, which drove the costs of war on her side even higher.
The story presented by Daniela Dvořáková ultimately yields no clear “winner:” King Władysław perished only two years later, in November 1444, at the Battle of Varna against the Ottomans. Ladislaus the Posthumous had to contend with powerful regents in his kingdoms of Hungary and Bohemia until his own early death in November 1457 and exercised little authority by himself. The author offers an insightful political biography of a little-known yet determined female ruler whose overriding aim was, perhaps tellingly, the preservation of her son’s dynastic rights. The book’s contribution outweighs minor shortcomings such as occasional linguistic infelicities and a few debatable personal judgments, such as the reference to “fanatical hordes of Protestants” that plundered and destroyed the tomb of St. Ladislaus in 1565 (19).