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Is this the most misunderstood king in history?

Is this the most misunderstood king in history?
Portrait of Augustus the Strong by the painter Louis de Silvestre (c.1716)

Book review by historian Tim Blanning – Augustus the Strong: A Study in Artistic Greatness and Political Fiasco [Augustus The Strong: A Study in Artistic Greatness and Political Fiasco].

By: Noel Malcolm / The Daily Telegraph
Translation: Agron Shala / Telegrafi.com

For as long as I can remember, there have been puritan-minded historians who have said that we should no longer write about kings and queens. In the past we were advised to write about social movements and economic factors; now the main themes are gender, race and the environment. All these deserve to be studied, but it is absurd to think that we should ignore the rulers of past centuries.


Kings and queens matter because until recently they were the ones who pushed things forward. We may overestimate their power, as they often did themselves. But in most European states, from the Middle Ages to the early 19th century, the royal will was the single greatest factor influencing governance, diplomacy, and warfare. In fact, until the middle of the 19th century, it was still normal for kings to lead their own troops into battle.

Augustus the Strong, ruler of Saxony and King of Poland (1670–1733), seemed to have the attributes for such a leadership role. His nickname referred to his ability to break horseshoes with just his hands; he was an excellent marksman and by the age of 23 had participated in five military campaigns. When he succeeded his brother as ruler of Saxony the following year, he seemed the perfect man for the role: a powerful, larger-than-life character (his appetite for drink and women was certainly greater than most) , but also a lover of art and a true promoter of industry and commerce.

What could go wrong?

The answer, as Tim Blanning's new biography explains, is this: almost everything. Augustus' first mistake was also his biggest and set the stage for everything that went wrong afterwards. When the King of Poland, John Sobieski (famous for saving Vienna when it was besieged by the Ottomans in 1683) died suddenly in 1696, Augustus undertook a political campaign to become his successor; after paying a host of expensive bribes and converting to Catholicism – out of blatant opportunism – he was finally elected to the Polish throne. This gave him the proper royal title and nominal power over the largest country in Europe, after Russia. But the phrase "poisoned cup" will not describe the prize he won.

Poland was the most ungovernable state in Europe. The real power did not belong to the king, but to the nobility and wealthy citizens, who formed a kind of massive oligarchy. However, they themselves had little power to push things forward; their great strength lay in their ability to stop things from happening, using a "free veto" which applied freely to any reforming or centralizing measure. As a result, their army was weak for a country of such size, and the entire state budget was less than three percent of that of Louis XIV's France.

This might not have mattered if the rulers of the neighboring states had been cold-blooded and benevolent. But Augustus' Polish reign coincided with the rise to greatness of two stubborn and aggressive figures: Peter the Great of Russia and Charles XII of Sweden. Unfortunately, Augustus agreed to join the former in trying to break up the latter's Baltic territories. The Swedish army proved to be a killing machine of its own kind, and Charles XII pursued Augustus in a furious vendetta, eventually driving him out of Poland and placing his own puppet ruler on the throne.

Inevitably, in some parts of the book more attention falls on those two dynamic monarchs than on our accident-prone hero. Charles comes across as a cold-blooded maniac who spent his entire reign waging war because that's what he liked. A brilliant tactician and a bad strategist, he eventually led the entire army to destruction in the Ukraine and had to spend the next five years as an exile in Ottoman territory.

Peter, meanwhile, was methodically dealing with the eastern Baltic region; the promise to give a large part of it to the former ally Augustus (now back in Warsaw), as Blanning puts it nicely, "rested in the great graveyard of his broken promises".

Polish historians have not given August a good credit. His misjudgments in war and diplomacy indeed led to large-scale death and destruction. Modern sensibilities may also be offended by his constant philandering, although Blanning reduces the number of bastard children from the rumored 354 to just eight. Even more offensive perhaps is his devotion to absurdly cruel sports, which involved throwing foxes, coots and beavers into the air with blankets until they died - he was, we are told, "a good thrower".

However, as Blanning points out, Saxony under Augustus marked a cultural golden age, thanks to his generous patronage, brilliant artistic sense and irrepressible energy. Musicians and painters flourished; jewelers and goldsmiths barely covered his demands; Meissen started the production of elegant porcelain and its capital, Dresden, gradually became one of the most beautiful cities in Europe.

Much of this was for Augustus' personal pleasure; but, far from withdrawing into the closed world of elite court culture, he welcomed crowds and held great feasts for their enjoyment. His desire to improve the whole country was genuine, and extended to inviting Jewish merchants and insisting—in spite of some opposition—that they be allowed to hold their religious services.

Blanning's account is based on extensive research in the relevant literature in German, Polish, Swedish, and Russian—an impressive display in our increasingly depressing monolingual academic culture. Scholarly debates are mostly avoided and the writing remains fresh and engaging throughout. I completely disagree with the description Penguin-'s [publishing house], which describes it as a "troubled" biography: this seems to minimize the serious arguments that run through this carefully structured book. But, "satisfactory" would be more accurate. There were quite a few pages here where I felt really good and satisfied. /Telegraph/