Episode 57: Kill Phil Volume 1

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In November 1501, Margaret of Austria was married by proxy to Philibert the Handsome, the Duke of Savoy. Over the next three years, Margaret thrived in this new position as Duchess of Savoy. Philibert was more than willing to let her take charge of affairs in Savoy, since that freed him up for more important stuff, like hunting and enjoying life. Margaret of Austria was only twenty-one years old, but had spent much of her life thus far learning the art of politics in the courts of France, Spain and the Low Countries. She was more than prepared for the challenges she would face in Savoy. For this remarkable woman, however, tragedy never seemed too far away and in 1504, after just three years of marriage, it once more cast its net over her life when Philibert died suddenly after a hunting trip and Margaret of Austria became, once again, a grieving widow.

“Kill Phil Volume 1” episode artwork by Steven Straatemans

Margaret of Austria travels to Savoy

First thing’s first. You probably remember that Margaret of Austria’s brother was Philip the Handsome, the Duke of Burgundy. And if you listened to the intro just now, you know that this episode is going to focus on her second marriage, that to Philibert the Handsome, the Duke of Savoy. That’s two people called Phil, both of whom were apparently handsome enough to earn the epithet. A truly handsome fill of Phil the Handsomes. To keep things simple, we’re not going to call them both Phil the Handsome, but instead refer to them as Savoy Phil and Habsburg Phil. This episode and the next are going to be a double-act, each revolving around the death of a Phil and the effects that had on Margaret of Austria’s life. Today we introduce, and kill off, Savoy Phil. Kill Phil, Volume 1.

We last left the Burgundian court with Margaret of Austria being betrothed to Savoy Phil in the summer of 1501. You’ll remember that through the lens of dynastic power-plays, Margaret was an extremely valuable asset. The question of who she would marry was one that vexed European diplomacy after the death of her first (technically second) husband, Prince Juan in 1497. In the end, however, the decision - made by Maximilian and Habsburg Phil - was for her to marry Savoy Phil. This satisfied the divergent interests of both her father and her brother, due to Savoy’s proximity to both Italy and France. Given what we know about Maximilian’s grand designs on Italy, having an ally in Savoy would allow the movement of imperial troops into the Italian peninsula. For Habsburg Phil, it would further lubricate a peace with France that, despite his father’s on-going enmity therewith, he actively sought in his role as the Duke of Burgundy. The marriage was formally agreed to in Brussels on September 26, 1501. From her brother she received a dowry, or at least the pledging thereof, of two hundred thousand Flemish pounds, paid in ten year installments, while her new husband assured her an income in the case that she survived him. As a kicker he was welcomed into the Order of the Golden Fleece.

Having had yet another diplomatic marriage arranged for her, one could possibly understand Margaret showing some resistance to the continuation of such a pattern. As we mentioned in episode 54, when the deal was done her brother gave her a document to sign declaring that she had been put under no pressure in agreeing to the union. Margaret refused to put her name to it. While she did not explicitly object to the marriage, this refusal is an indicator that, in the words of her biographer Jane de Iongh, she was showing herself “to be no longer the totally will-less pawn of whom ambition and arrogance could dispose at pleasure.”

Yet disposed Margaret was, the terms of her life having been agreed to once more by parties who were not her. She set off through France, an account of which is provided by our old mate Molinet. Savoy Phil had sent up a great host of knights and other luminaries to escort her, and Habsburg Phil fronted up the dosh to allow a great company of Flemish nobles to join her - feasting, picnicking, gaming and drinking, as far as Geneva. It was to be a travelling spectacle and one can’t help but compare it to her previous wedding procession, in which she had gone by ship and thought she was going to drown at sea. Of course there had also been one other wedding procession prior to that, but given that she was three years old at that time she probably didn’t really remember it. She left in October, 1501, accompanied for a short time by Margaret of York who had likely been the most consistent character in the younger Margaret’s life, dictated as it had been by the whims of her father, fate and fortune. When the two Margarets said an affectionate goodbye a few kilometres outside of Brussels, it was the last time they would see each other.

Over the next month, “the whole journey was a kind of triumphal procession”, in the words of another of Margaret’s biographers, Marian Andrews, who wrote “A high and puissant Princess” in the early 1900s under the male name Christopher Hare. Margaret’s journey took her through Champagne, on what essentially boils down to a local food and drink tour. Molinet tells us all about it. Fair warning, though - the following quote is our translation of Molinet which is, as it were, Google’s translation. We don’t speak French and nor do we intend to. I also can’t remember if we have said this before, but as far as we can tell there is no, zero, geen published English translation of Molinet… which seems remarkable. If there are any young (or old) Francophilic students out there looking for a project to get your teeth into, we would have found that very useful. Again, Il n'existe pas de traduction de Molinet en anglais. Anyway, just saying… here’s Molinet talking about Margaret coming into the capital of Champagne, a town called Reims, which somehow comes out in French as Rahs, which is the noise I make when I fall asleep on the couch:

“...those of the town (Reims) came to meet her… the streets were hung with tapestries and four gammons of Hippocras (mulled wine), a deer, a wild boar, kids, peacocks, pheasants, partridges, roebucks, and rabbits were presented to her. From Reims to Chalon where… those of the town similarly came to meet her with sixty torsos (this is where a proper translation might help haha); and Lord Dorval, governor of Champagne, came to meet her and presented her with four hogsheads of wine, kids, calves… peacocks and pheasants, etc. From Chalon to Arsy-sur-Aube, from Arsy to Troies in Champagne, where those from there came to meet her, as above; to meet her came the Prince of Orange and the Lord of Brianne, well accompanied, and led her to the church of Saint-Pierre, where the dean presented to her a herring, venison and poultry, and the bishop where she was lodged gave up the keys to the cellar, for his state…and at the entrance to the town, Madame de Brianne, her two children, the Count of Roussy and the Lord of Rhiselle, curtseyed to her, and there were several choirs of singers. From Troyes she came to Bar-sur-Sayne, where she celebrated her Saint-Martin feast. She was presented with two gourds of wine.”

She then came into the formerly titular lands of her brother, Burgundy, which had passed back into the French King’s hands with the death of their grandfather Charles the Bold. It probably won’t surprise you to hear that Maximilian was cooking up plans to rectify this and take them back. In Dijon there was more partying, and from this stage we get the most hilarious description from our dubious translation of Molinet: “at the entrance to the gate was a hoarding, where Cupido and Venus attacked the amorous castle”. Let’s not try to make sense of that, it’s perfect just the way it is.

Margaret of Austria and Savoy Phil are married by proxy

Towards the end of November she arrived in Dôle where was met by the bastard brother of her husband-to-be, Rene, the Grand Bastard of Savoy. Rene had been appointed to sub in for Savoy Phil for the ceremonial stuff. On the 28th of November Margaret and Rene  participated in a wedding-by-proxy, the likes of which we have gone into detail on this podcast before. Margaret herself had already married a proxy Spaniard before. Suffice it to say that the weirdest custom within the ceremony took place in the evening after the feasting, dancing and revelry when Margaret went into her bed chamber and lay down. Molinet tells us “..the bastard of Savoy lay down beside her, one half-bared leg propped up against the bed, with all those who had been at the wedding present. After some gracious words, the bastard rose, requesting a kiss from Madame, which was granted to him, and having done so, he knelt down, saying that he surrendered himself as her humble servant. Madame made him get up, and, bidding him goodnight, gave him a good diamond ring, and everyone withdrew.” Jane De Iongh, who wrote a biography of Margaret in the 1950s, intimates that in Margaret becoming Savoyard, she was being welcomed into a culture that was more fun, lively and easy-going than the stiff and stale Spanish court culture of her previous life. “Margaret, remembering in what helpless manner the representative of her Spanish husband had acquitted himself of his task when obliged to act out the same nuptial comedy, was completely charmed by the courteous Savoyard.” Spoiler alert, Margaret and Rene would not enjoy much courtesy between them from this point on. 

Now the Duchess of Savoy, Margaret continued the final stages of her journey over the mountains to an abbey called Romain-Moustiers where she met her actual husband for the first time. Well, for the sake of the pedantic, there is a chance that they had met when younger as both had spent time in the French court during the regency of Anne de Beaujeu. On this occasion, they danced, feasted, went to mass and had another little marriage ceremony to complete the nuptials. They then went to Geneva, which put on a huge ceremony in welcome to them, with great displays of allegorical representations abounding the streets, organised assemblies of uniformed archers standing to attention and highly eminent nobles, at least one of which was wearing a “strangely fashioned hat”. Amongst much else, an 80 foot or 20+ metre high lacquered tree made of iron stood in a meadow which had blossoms hanging off its branches, fashioned to exhibit images of Margaret’s forebears and family. De Iongh writes “It was overwhelming. The abundance of Flanders, the riches of Spain, the luxuries of France, all were overshadowed by the extravagance of this entry into Geneva.” So it was that, for the next few weeks, Margaret and Savoy Phil, along with this great retinue of party-hangers-onners, knights, nobles and kin, commenced a celebratory tour of Savoy, going from town to town, being feted, feasted and fancied. It must have gotten very tiring but, at the very least, it gave the young couple a chance to actually get to know each other. And guess what? They actually seemed to get along! 

So what do we know about this new, dashing husband of Margaret? In the French words of Jean Lemaire de Belges, Molinet’s godson who a few years after these events would become Margaret’s court chronicler, he was “Monseigneur Philibert Duc de Savoie, fort et puissant et beau, grant person- nage et jeune” - “Monseigneur Philibert, Duke of Savoy, strong, powerful, handsome, of great personage and young” The general consensus on Savoy Phil is that he was one of your classic warrior princes; gallant and chivalric but not particularly interested in the tedium of governance and administration.  If he was not at war or hunting, he was happiest celebrating festivities (dancing and feasting etc) and dabbling in a touch of ceremonial pomp such as what was now undertaken in these lavish introductions of Margaret to her new subjects. 

When this travelling party rolled into the town of Bourges, the burghers there regretted that there was not enough money in the town’s coffers to put on a sufficient enough event to please their overlords. They had just recently bought fifty-thousand bricks to build city defenses and were now broke. The town’s council struck a deal with some local clergy, who lent them 700 florins to be reimbursed via the town’s income stream. These were the sort of matters that could unexpectedly arise for every day folk, in the event of a noble marriage. In the end the fiscal acumen of the monks saved the day and Bourges was able to greet the couple appropriately. The following wonderful description, from the town’s archives but found translated in Eleanor Tremayne’s biography of Margaret of Austria, gives such a vivid insight into what this kind of event meant for the people involved at all levels, and what kind of world Margaret was being plunged into:

“At last the long-looked-for day came, and the duke and duchess arrived at Bourg on the 5th of August, 1502. From early dawn the bells of the monasteries and churches were ringing, guns firing, and a stir of general excitement was in the air. The picturesque wooden houses were hung with coloured tapestries, decorated with five hundred escutcheons bearing the arms of Savoy and Burgundy. Eight platforms had been constructed in different parts of the town on which were to be enacted masques and allegories. At the sound of the trumpet the crowd collected in front of the town hall, from whence issued the municipal body, preceded by the syndics in red robes (these were the town’s magistrates)... one of them bearing the town keys on a silver salver.

(Salver is a formal, usually silver tray used exactly for this kind of purpose. Continuing the description…)

The procession marched with trumpets blowing to the market-place, when soon after a warlike fanfare and the neighing of horses announced the arrival of the ducal cortège, headed by Philibert and Margaret. The sight of the young couple evoked shouts and cheers. Margaret, wearing the ducal crown, was mounted on a palfrey, covered with rich drapery, embroidered with the arms of Burgundy, and with nodding white plumes on its head. Through a veil of silver tissue her sweet face appeared framed in long tresses of fair hair. (Margaret, not the horse) A close-fitting dress of crimson velvet stitched with gold, bordered with the embossed arms of Austria and Savoy, set off her graceful figure. With one hand she held the reins of her horse, with the other she saluted the crowd, whilst at her right on a fiery charger rode the handsome Philibert, delighted with the enthusiasm which burst forth at the progress of his lovely wife.”

So Savoy was full of enthusiasm for the newly married couple and they themselves were full of enthusiasm for each other.

Removing René, the Grand Bastard

Margaret and Savoy Phil took up permanent residence in a castle called Pont d’Ain and life in Savoy began to unfold. The location was beautiful and surrounded by forest, which suited both Savoy Phil’s and Margaret’s enjoyment of sport, mainly hunting. That is to say, Philibert certainly enjoyed those things and Margaret took great care to join him in what became the idyllic model of a double ducal act. However, as de Iongh put it, “Her real interest, which with the years was to grow into a passion that completely absorbed her, lay elsewhere. Affairs of state, and foreign policy in particular, fascinated her.” In this new marriage Margaret felt empowered enough to literally take over the governance of the duchy, which she would come to rule “unhindered” for the next three years. This, however, was not something that just fell into her lap. When it came to first taking the reins of power, she had to reach out and grab them and it was not from her husband that they needed to be extricated, but rather from the man whose bare shin she had briefly shared a bed with on the night of her wedding-by-proxy: the Grand Bastard of Savoy, Rene. 

Seemingly by Savoy Phil’s consent, who cared not for the mundane, Rene had for some time been established as essentially the Prime Minister of Savoy, acting on behalf of Philibert in the general decision making. Philibert had officially legitimised him in 1499 and appointed him to the position of Lieutenant-General of the States of Savoy. For Margaret, the daughter of an Emperor and a woman who had suffered so much as a result of having others making decisions, this was just not going to fly. Her first months in Savoy may have been one big party, but once that had come to an end, she was intent on getting down to business. She had spent her life in the courts of four of Europe’s biggest powers and, at different stages of her life, had enjoyed the influence of some of Europe’s most powerful women. Strong female role models in the form of Anne de Beaujeu and Isabella of Castile had spent much time with her and given guidance in both private and state matters. Both had shepherded Margaret through seminal times in her life and their examples gave her no reason to believe that she could not rule fairly in her own right, just because of her gender. Of course, this was still a male-dominated world and she would never have been able to frame it as such. Much later she would say of her own character: “for all that we are a woman, our heart is of a different nature, and we cannot do any good to those who work us harm.” It is suggested that she sincerely disliked Rene, despite having been so charmed by him on her wedding night. Whether this is true or not, Margaret set about dismantling him in a fashion that would not be out of place in the book - The Prince - that Niccolo Machiavelli would publish in Italy only a decade after these events. 

The first thing Margaret did was a simple, but powerful move. Savoy was an imperial fief and the emperor was, well, her father. In 1502/3, she got Maximilian to override Savoy Phil and revoke the legitimacy that Rene had earlier wrangled out of him. This would have found Rene floundering somewhat, but Margaret knew that she would have to totally sever the ties between the half-brothers if she was to completely rid Savoy (and herself) of Rene’s influence. She got in the ear of the court preacher who sermonised on her behalf, turning to Savoy Phil and appealing that he “drive out the thieves who were in his household, who were leeches sucking the blood of his unhappy subjects.” To top it all off, she successfully had Rene accused of treason, and of going into cahoots with some Swiss. Rene, having been stripped of his legitimacy, requested his half-brother that he may at least retire peaceably to his lands, but Savoy Phil was clearly incensed. “I wish you would not only retire from my Court, but also from my State, and that within two days, on pain of death.”  Rene was stripped of his possessions and forced to flee to exile in France. He would actually go on to have a pretty spectacular career following this, but for now we don’t care about him anymore. Margaret had successfully cleared her path to power. Jane de Iongh pondered about this situation: “Had the accusation of the Grand Bastard been grounded on a real misdeed? Or was she already making use, in this her first political appearance, of those means justified by their end of which her generation always knew how to avail themselves with so much ingenuity?”

Taking the reins of power in Savoy

Once Rene had been dealt with, Savoy Phil pretty much went on hunting and being princely while Margaret did the governing. For what it’s worth, Marian Andrews implies that over the next years Philibert was quite progressive and partook in policy making more than he is often given credit for. In the continuous tension between the Empire and France, played out in towns and on battlefields in Italy and Guelders, Savoy under Philibert remained neutral, allowing Savoyard men to hire themselves out to both sides, as well as even escorting Louis XII and a French army through Savoy on the way to Milan, in return for thirty thousand livres a month for his troubles. He was apparently more open and tolerant to Jewish settlers in his lands and, alongside Margaret, was intent on creating more hospitals and schools for his people. 

However much he was involved though, Margaret doubtlessly sat in the driving seat. She surrounded herself with experienced and trusted advisors, who had been with her in Spain and the low countries. One of them would go on to become a Cardinal and another, Jean de Marnix, was the grandfather of the most famous Marnix in Dutch history, being the poet and musician Marnix of St Aldegonde, after whom many streets in the Netherlands and Flanders remain named to this day. We generally get the idea that Margaret spent these years honing her craft as an able state-woman, garnering a reputation as such during a small period which enjoyed relative peace between the major powers. Lemaire recounts one story that almost saw history repeat itself in that, on a hunting trip with her husband, her horse bucked and stomped and threw her to the ground, into the terrifying vicinity of its deadly hooves. Tremayne described the scene, saying the Duchess “fell under its feet, the iron-shod hoofs trampling on her dress, disarranging her hair, and breaking a thick golden chain which hung from her neck. All those who witnessed the accident were paralysed with terror, believing the duchess could not escape alive, and recalling a similar accident in which her mother, Mary of Burgundy, had lost her life. But Margaret had a miraculous escape, and got up without any harm beyond a severe shaking.”

While things were good at home, on the international scene, pieces were moving and positions were turning, mainly on the pivot that was her brother presumptively becoming the next king of Castile. Up until now, Habsburg Phil had adhered to the policies desired by his Netherlandish advisors, such as the Lord of Chievres, Guillame de Croy. This had meant peace with France, not waging war on Guelders and maintaining the intercursus magnus, the beneficial trade pact that had been made with England. However, in 1504 Isabella of Castille died, meaning that Habsburg Phil’s wife, Joanna, was to inherit her titles. Habsburg Phil’s attention was then drawn to far more global matters, namely that he was soon to rule Austria, Netherlands, Castile, and likely also Aragon, Lyon, Granada, Naples, Sicily and all the new territory that Columbus' voyage had brought into the Spanish domains. Clearly Habsburg Phil valued Margaret’s opinion on these matters, as he visited twice with her on his way back from Spain in the first half of 1503 (which we will talk more about in the next episode). Their father, Maximilian, consistently held the French king in enmity and at this point in the timeline was still trying to wage war against Charles, the Duke of Guelders, whose ally was the French King, as we covered in the previous episode. Both Margaret and Philip agreed that the best way forward was to somehow bring the Emperor and the French King to a rapprochement. From Bourg, Philip went on to Innsbruck to get to work convincing Maximilian of this. 

This actually eventuated, culminating in the Treaty of Blois that was signed in September, 1504, agreed to by Louis XII, Habsburg Phil & Maximilian. As mentioned, we will get back to all that. For now, however, let’s stick with Margaret in Savoy, for whom September 1504 became memorable for far different and more awful reasons. 

An ill fated hunting trip…

In the account of what befell her - given primarily by Jehan Lemaire in his work La Couronne Margaritique, which was ably conveyed by Margaret’s biographers but which, again, is not translated into English and should be - we are painted a picture of a hot and stagnant summer in which all pursuits of fun and activity had to cease in the Savoyard court. For a fun-loving and active prince such as Savoy Phil, this meant boredom and frustration. From Marian Andrews: “The year was hot and dry, we are told, and the trees were eaten up by caterpillars.” Poor trees; lucky caterpillars. Jane de Iongh, on the other hand, gives us such a good description of what the vibe in the court was like, telling us that “it had been a scorchingly hot, dry summer. The hazy blue distances that had made the terraces of Pont d’Ain famous seemed shrouded in a film of burnt brown. It was too warm to eat, too warm to hunt, too warm to dance. Philibert, visibly suffering under his enforced lack of activity, begged Margaret like a spoiled, obstinate child to grant him but a single day of hunting pleasure, if she did not want him to die of boredom, sicken for want of exercise. Margaret argued that he must be careful, must spare himself for her sake, his servants and his horses for theirs. Philibert yielded, sulking: this was no life for a man, hanging around all day among his wife’s ladies in waiting, being burdened by her councilors, who thought they should consult him if he was always within range. The heat, the ducal impatience made the otherwise so harmonious atmosphere of Pont d’Ain oppressive and restless.”

By September, however, Savoy Phil had worn Margaret down, seemingly in the manner that a spoiled and obstinate child might his mother, and she relented. Instantly, Savoy Phil set about planning a boar hunt in the surrounding countryside of Bresse. Once he and his chums had left the castle, Margaret, her ladies in waiting and her councillors likely breathed a sigh of relief as the blare of hunting horns grew ever more distant and they could focus on attending the matters of state. All was calm and quiet until the afternoon, when a messenger hurried into Margaret’s presence to inform her that there was something amiss with her husband the Duke. In the translated-by-Google words of Le Maire, the two were now to endure a visit by the ”sad old man Misfortune and his pale and terrible wife Death.”

On this hunt Philibert fell upon the trail of a boar which he followed on horseback through woodlands, over valleys and into the mountains. That must have been one strong boor-spoor. Sorry, couldn’t help myself. And actually, dingdingding that brings us to this episode’s edition of Bet You Didn’t Know That Was Dutch! The English word spoor, as a noun meaning the scent of an animal, or as a verb meaning to track a wild animal, comes from the middle Dutch word “spor”, meaning footprint, track or trace. It came to the English language via the Afrikaans language, presumably after English speaking travellers in South Africa went on some hunting expeditions of their own. So there you go, spoor! Bet you didn’t know that was Dutch. Back to Savoy Phil’s ill-fated hunting trip.

Having tracked the boar to the mountains, Savoy Phil had to dispense with his horse and continue the hunt on foot. In the continuing heat of that year he was soon parched and exhausted. Coming to a spring, his party set about having lunch and the Duke quenched his thirst. He was gasping with fatigue and, in the words of de Jonghe, he slaked it with “beaker after beaker of the ice-cold spring water, and had drunk in so rapid and uncontrolled a manner that his nobles had repeatedly cautioned him. Shortly thereafter, an excruciating stitch in the side made him writhe, and before the end of the meal it was clear that the Duke could not continue the hunt.” He was overcome by a debilitating chill and was subsequently brought back to Pont d’Ain to be attended to. 

Per Le Maire: “the very noble Duchess, his dear wife and companion…set herself to comfort him very gently… and sent in all diligence for the people and ministers of the God Aesclepius (the greek God of apothecary) soliciting with most imploring prayers, and she even caused the treasure of her precious pearls to be pounded and put into powder (a favourite medicine)... and made extreme diligence to seek help from Heaven by vows and by devout prayers and by sending offerings to distant pilgrimages… neither loving devotion nor prayers nor tears of this noble wife prevailed, and the great and inevitable loss followed, to her utter desolation…” Such was this despair that Margaret, when told after many sleepless nights that there would be no saving her husband, tried to throw herself out of a window, which was prevented by her courtiers. 

Once again, a widowed bride

On the 10th of September 1504, just three years into their marriage the Duke of Savoy, Philibert the Handsome, succumbed to whatever it was that had ailed him and Margaret became a widow for the second time. Consumed by grief, she refused to be parted from the body and, as such, could not be left alone, lest she try to kill herself again. It was only because the affairs of state continued to be brought to her that she managed to pull herself out of the malaise, recognising that decisions needed to be made. However, even this would now be taken from her. She was, after all, now the Dowager Duchess, and no longer in charge. Philibert was succeeded by his 18-year old half brother, Charles III and, as far as Savoy was concerned, she no longer had any meaningful role to play. As a dowager Duchess, she was entitled to her income, but the new, 18 year old Duke failed to ensure it. In these darkest of times for her (a woman who had experienced many dark times) this became an on-going issue to which she also had to dedicate attention. 

Only one decision remained for her to make, which was where Philibert’s body was to be interred. The decision was prompted by something that Savoy Phil had told her as he lay dying. Apparently his own mother Marguerite de Bourbon had endured a similarly trying experience in 1480 as that which Margaret was now facing. Philibert’s father, the Duke Phillip II, had himself suffered a seemingly fatal hunting accident, breaking his arm and looking like he was going to float off to meet his maker. Margaret’s mother-in-law had made a sacred vow, pleading for the life of her husband. This promise had included the restoration of a nearby Benedictine cloister called Brou, which had become impoverished and desolate. The Duke survived his travails, however Marguerite de Bourbon had never been able to fulfil this vow as she herself had perished just three years later. She was buried in the Brou monastery which she had intended to restore. 

So, as Philibert lay dying, he related the holy obligation that hung over the family - an obligation that now became Margaret’s. Six days following her Savoy Phil’s death, his embalmed body was taken to be buried next to his mother (except for his heart which Margaret kept with her at Pont d’Ain, where she would spend much of the next two years, entangled as she was in the Savoyard affairs and desire to fulfil the holy oath. Six months after Philibert’s demise she had procured the land for his mausoleum, construction of which began in 1506. It would take twenty-five years to complete and it still exists to this day. It is now known as the Royal Monastery of Brou. We could spend much more time talking about Margaret’s enduring battle with her husband’s successor, primarily in the matter of maintaining control of the lands of her dower, being Bresse, Faucigny and Vaud. But this is the History of the Netherlands podcast, damn it, and not the history of Savoy. Suffice it to say that she managed to intimidate the new, young duke enough to get pretty much what she wanted.

So that’s where we will leave it! We’ve seen Margaret of Austria refine her political skills and get a real taste of what it means to be in charge at court. Sure, Savoy Phil’s death had seen her sidelined, again, but those political skills were going to be required and put to the test again in a much more relevant place for us, very soon. In 1507 Margaret of Austria would return to the Low Countries at the bequest of her father Maximilian, to become the regent there on behalf of her infant nephew Charles. But before we get to that, we first have to get rid of Habsburg Phil. So next episode will be Kill Phil, Volume 2. Until then, doei!

Sources used:

Chroniques de Jean Molinet

La courrone margaritique by Jean Lemaire des Belges

Monarchies, States Generals and Parliaments by Helmut Koenigsberger

Margaret of Austria: Regent of the Netherlands by Jane de longh

The First Governess of the Netherlands: Margaret of Austria by Eleanor E. Tremayne

The high and puissant princess Marguerite of Austria, princess dowager of Spain, duchess dowager of Savoy, regent of the Netherlands by Christopher Hare