Frederick II

by David Abulafia

Frederick II (1194-1250) - King of Sicily, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Jerusalem, expert ornithologist, Wonder of the World, has long been considered the first Renaissance ruler. A visionary autocrat who embraced the religious divisions within his empire to challenge the armies and oppressive limitations of the medieval church, he has also been denounced as the Antichrist, a heretic and a heathen, who died condemned by the papacy to eternal damnation.


From the Trade Paperback edition.

Genres: History, Biography, Germany, Nonfiction, Medieval History, Italy, Medieval

466 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1988

About the author

David Samuel Harvard Abulafia is a British historian with a particular interest in Italy, Spain and the rest of the Mediterranean during the Middle Ages and Renaissance.
His published works include Frederick II, The Mediterranean in History, Italy in the central Middle Ages, The Discovery of Mankind: Atlantic encounters in the age of Columbus and The Great Sea: a human history of the Mediterranean.

Reviews

[Anthony · Rating 3 out of 5]

A Revisit is Needed

Frederick II (1194–1250), Holy Roman Emperor from 1220 to 1250, was one of the most remarkable rulers of the Middle Ages, often called Stupor Mundi (Wonder of the World) for his extraordinary intellect, ambition, and political impact. He was a brilliant scholar who spoke several languages, including Latin, Greek, Arabic, and Italian. He established the University of Naples in 1224, one of Europe’s first secular universities and his court in Sicily became a center of learning and culture, where scholars from Christian, Muslim, and Jewish traditions collaborated. Frederick was also deeply interested in science and nature. His book, De Arte Venandi cum Avibus (On the Art of Hunting with Birds), was an early treatise on falconry and ornithology.

Politically he was also strong, as he issued the Constitutions of Melfi (1231), a comprehensive legal code for his Kingdom of Sicily. This code centralised power under the monarchy, promoted justice, and regulated economic and social life. His reign also saw the establishment of efficient bureaucratic and judicial systems, influencing the development of modern states. But perhaps most remarkable of all, despite being excommunicated several times by the pope, he led the Sixth Crusade (1228–1229), achieving a peaceful recovery of Jerusalem through negotiation with the Muslim sultan al-Kamil. All of this surely puts Frederick II into the centre of medieval, German and Italian history. As important a ruler as Charlemagne, William the Conqueror, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Saladin or Genghis Khan for his profound impact on history.

So, why doesn’t this book do him justice? The main reason is its lack of accessibility and uneven tone, which makes the book dense and dry. It is a comprehensive biography, which covers Frederick II’s political ambitions, intellectual pursuits, and tumultuous relationship with the papacy. However, while the work is rich in detail, I feel it will not appeal to a broader audience.

I will say that author David Abulafia’s meticulous research is evident throughout. He weaves a narrative that situates Frederick II within the broader context of 13th-century European and Mediterranean history, highlighting his complex interactions with the Church, his innovative governance in Sicily, and his unique cultural and scientific patronage. He excels at depicting Frederick as a man ahead of his time—an emperor who defied feudal conventions and sought to centralize power while fostering intellectual and cultural exchange.

Frederick II: A Medieval Emperor’s discussion of the Constitutions of Melfi and Frederick’s diplomatic achievements, such as the peaceful recovery of Jerusalem during the Sixth Crusade, are particularly engaging. Abulafia also offers valuable insights into Frederick’s personal life, portraying him as a deeply contradictory figure—both a visionary and a ruthless ruler.

As I said above, the academic credibility is there, but the book’s dense and sometimes overly detailed prose can be daunting for non-specialist readers. Abulafia frequently delves into minutiae, which, while valuable for historians, may feel tedious to those seeking a more streamlined narrative. The pacing often suffers as a result, with key events like the Sixth Crusade or Frederick’s conflicts with the papacy getting bogged down in excessive background information. Furthermore, Abulafia’s portrayal of Frederick often leans toward skepticism, emphasising his failures and contradictions over his successes. While this critical perspective is valuable, it sometimes comes across as overly harsh, detracting from the emperor’s remarkable achievements. Readers hoping for a more balanced appraisal may find this aspect frustrating.

Frederick II: A Medieval Emperor is a scholarly and detailed work that will appeal to readers deeply interested in medieval history or Frederick II himself. However, its dense style and critical tone may alienate casual readers or those seeking a more celebratory or accessible biography. For those with patience and a passion for the era, the book is a rewarding, if occasionally challenging, read. I will warn you, this took a few stop and starts to wade through this.

[Ozymandias · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's hard reading an iconoclastic account of a life when you haven’t read the standard historiography. I’m distantly aware of Frederick of course, as anyone who’s read anything on 13th century Europe or the Crusader kingdoms should be, but like a lot of people I’ve found that medieval German history is remarkably poorly represented in English historiography. Given that it was the most important (if not always most powerful) “state” in Europe for most of the Middle Ages and Early Modern Era this is a pretty serious omission. Which is a roundabout way of saying that I don’t know the standard narrative of Frederick’s reign nor that much about his life. And since the main conclusion of this book is that that narrative is wrong and/or limited that makes this a somewhat odd experience.

The basic idea Abulafia expresses is that Frederick was very much a medieval king and not a Renaissance despot before his time. Without knowing what other writers say I can’t say how radical a reassessment this is. But for each new rejection of one of the traditional pegs of the Frederick legend my thought was less ‘wow, that truly shows Freddie was just a regular king’ and more ‘my God, he actually did that?!?’ Take his relationship with the Muslims for example. Abulafia says Frederick wasn’t truly tolerant but he let Muslims and Jews worship as they were accustomed to. And he didn’t have a large Muslim population in Sicily anymore, but he did encourage Jews and Muslims to emigrate and built an entire city for the Muslim populace. Also, the court was not a great center of Arabic scholars and poets but of course he did have access to Arab scholars and spoke Arabic and communicated with Arab rulers on questions of philosophy. For me, the information following those buts is far more amazing than the bits that come before.

To me (in a position of near total ignorance) this seems less a challenge to Frederick’s extraordinary nature and more an attempt to qualify it. He does well at that. The most notable qualifier is that the Norman kings of Sicily were a pretty uncommon bunch. That flowering of Arabic scholarship people attribute to Frederick, for example, was more a feature of earlier kings. And it went hand in hand with Jewish, Greek, and Latin learning. Same goes for the centralized nature of Frederick’s rule. This came directly from his Kingdom of Sicily and its more centralized bureaucracy that developed out of the nature of its conquest and consolidation. In other words, Frederick only looks odd to our eyes because we have in mind a more northern European form of kingship. Although since Frederick was that as well it seems clear to my why his contemporaries found that shocking.

The other element that Abulafia challenges (and the one I’m more familiar with) is Freddie’s conflict with the papacy. This was quite infamous. When Freddie had to postpone his crusade due to an outbreak of disease the pope excommunicated him. Which was ridiculous. And then Freddie led a crusade anyway and got Jerusalem back, only to have to rush home because the pope violated every principle he had and waged war against an active crusader in an effort to destroy Freddie’s kingdom. This is really one of the most disgusting examples of papal overreach and corruption. The popes saw Frederick and the Hohenstauffens as a threat to their secular rule. With the emperor’s lands surrounding them in northern and southern Italy they were surrounded. And they couldn’t tolerate that. So bitter was the fight against the Hohenstauffens that the papacy would not rest until the line was exterminated. The vicars of Christ ladies and gentlemen, to whom no act, however foul, could be a sin so long as it advanced their private interests. Ugh.

Abulafia’s insight on this is to show just how much of his time Freddie actually spent in accord with the papacy. It was really only the few years surrounding the crusade and, more dramatically, the final decade of his reign where the conflict escalated into a shameful war where the popes refused to negotiate in good faith. Frederick considered himself the heir of the Roman emperors and wanted to rule in partnership with the popes. The popes considered themselves the sole heirs of the Roman emperors and regarded all other monarchs as rebellious vassals. So while some popes were willing to negotiate with Freddie to have him pass the throne of Sicily onto someone else, their attitude was always ultimately antagonistic.

This was an interesting book. I can’t truly say whether I was persuaded in his main arguments since I haven’t read the counterargument, but his conclusions sound plausible enough. His focus on Norman Sicily makes a lot of sense and explains much. I wondered why the background to Freddie’s rule took up a third of the book, but I think it’s justified in the end. As for Freddie himself, I confess I still find him an enigma. He loved hunting and was fascinated with birds, he clearly had an impressive intellect, and he was very skilled at negotiations. But who was he ultimately? I’d have liked a better account of that. But on the whole I thought it was a good introduction to the topic.

[Antonio Fanelli · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ottima biografia, soprattutto realistica, dell'imperatore più mitizzato di tutti i tempi.
Abulafia non affascina, ma descrive con rigore fatti e persone con tanto di documenti e mappe.
Molto gradito il finale sul dopo Federico II.

[Ton · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very good biography of Frederick II, debunking and re-evaluating a lot of myths and still painting a compelling picture of Frederick.

[Adelais · Rating 4 out of 5]

Біографія "чуда світу", імператора Фрідріха ІІ, який одночасно намагався ладнати і з папами, і з італійськими містами, і з німецькими баронами. Вже не спойлер, що виходило коли як, але Фрідріх увійшов у історію під своїм прізвиськом через те, що в себе на Сіцилії давав мирно існувати трьом релігіям і в цілому влаштував там невеликий золотий вік. Автор намагається цей образ підважити, аргументуючи, що не все так було мирно, і коли треба, Фрідріх не цурався швидко покарати незгідних і промарширувати військом по непокірних землях, а арабське населення страждало чи не найбільше. З італійськими містами теж доводилося вести переговори, озброївшись до зубів, бо бадьорий дух торгівлі не збігався з владною імператорською волею (і дух частенько перемагав). Не сказати, що Фрідріх досяг своїх цілей перед смертю, але своєрідною легендою він таки став.

[~Silv (ilpianetadeilibri) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Finalmente, dopo mesi, sono riuscito a finire questo saggio storico. In realtà ho dovuto riprenderlo da capo per la stesura della tesi, mi è stato davvero molto utile.
All'inizio lo stavo trovando pesante, poi mi sono messo d'impegno e l'ho letto in poco tempo trovandolo davvero molto interessante ed affascinante (ho avuto continuamente le vibes alla Game of thrones, quindi ho amato) anche se un po' troppo prolisso in alcuni punti, unico motivo per cui non si becca le 5 stelle.
È stato un viaggio meraviglioso tra le corti, la politica, la cultura e le battaglie di Federico II di Svevia, imperatore del Sacro Romano Impero e re del Regno di Sicilia, di cui faceva parte la mia terra, Gravina in Puglia, col suo piccolo ma grazioso castello svevo.
David Abulafia ci parla di Federico con un occhio critico e realistico, e non con quello che vede l'imperatore come lo Stupor mundi, perciò ho apprezzato, nonostante si veda tutta la grandezza e magnificenza che questa importante figura storica ha scaturito nel corso dei secoli.
Mi manca l'ultimo capitolo di 20 pagine che parla dell'eredità di Federico ma poiché non mi è molto utile per la tesi lo leggerò questi giorni senza fretta.

[Dan · Rating 4 out of 5]

In this biography of Frederick von Hohenstaufen – Holy Roman Emperor, King of the Germans (& N. Italians), King of Jerusalem, King of Sicily (including S. Italy), et cetera – Professor Abulafia intended to supersede the classic work on the subject by Kantorowicz. In Abulafia’s efforts to revise Kantorowicz’ views of Frederick (and van Cleve’s derivitive interpretation), the argument is put forth that Frederick was not uniquely forward-looking but, instead, thoroughly medieval in action and attitude. In this case, although the argument may be sound, Abulafia pushes his agenda too far, abandoning those aspects of Frederick that are clearly ahead of his time. To be sure, Frederick was a product of the Middle Ages and such is reflected in his behavior. He was also, however, a singularly brilliant human being who had the power and leisure to perform remarkably modern scientific inquiry. Yes, he manifested a nasty knack for realpolitik, but he also demonstrated a quasi-modern outlook to minorities (especially in his treatment of Jews within his realm).

A second, and far more alarming aspect of Abulafia’s revisionist interpretation of Frederick’s life, is found in his treatment of the relationship between emperor and papacy. Here, Abulafia’s disproportionate rhetoric belies his ostensible balance. Although Abulafia claims that Frederick could be just as much at fault as Gregory IX or Innocent IV, in the actual description of events, the adjectives chosen for Frederick are benign or positive (e.g., determined, tenacious) whereas the pope is described in negative terms (e.g., stubborn, obtuse). In Abulafia’s rhetoric, Frederick was guided by precedent, logic and rules of government all to preserve and expand Hohenstaufen power, whereas the popes were governed by malice and self-interest and to unjustly(?) influence the secular world. The rhetoric is not always quite so obvious. Usually the key to Abulafia’s true, heartfelt views on the matter are found in a scarcely perceived tone of distain for the pope and the papacy in general. It would be helpful if the author simply came out and stated this.

All in all, it is a good book, but not a great one. Although Abulafia’s work is more modern and therefore answers questions more likely to be of interest to twenty-first century students, I still feel that Kantorowicz’ work has yet to be superseded. At least with Kantorowicz, one knows where one stands and can more easily disregard the hagiographical rhetoric which surrounds Frederick II. Abulafia’s great contribution to the discourse on Frederick is his first chapter, which traces Frederick’s Norman inheritance – a subject oft neglected, and much needed. What remains to be written is a truly balanced and impartial biography which includes good footnotes; a feat that neither Kantorowicz nor Abulafia can claim.

[James Kane · Rating 5 out of 5]

Frederick II, Holy Roman Emperor from 1220 to 1250 and king of Sicily from 1198 to 1250, was an interesting ruler whom generations of historians have turned into an extraordinary one. In this sober and sobering reinterpretation of Frederick's career, David Abulafia shies away from the wildly imaginative portraits that have often characterised scholarship on the emperor and offers a clear, engaging overview of his life, policies and personality (as far as it can be grasped). Abulafia's assured account of the bitter struggle between Frederick and the papacy, especially under Gregory IX (1227-1241) and Innocent IV (1243-1254), is a particular highlight. Non-specialists might find Abulafia's reappraisal a little too sober, but on the whole this book is a readable, masterly and essential treatment of one of the most intriguing rulers of the Middle Ages, as well as an important corrective to the reams of fanciful speculation that have been written about Frederick.

[Graziano · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fosse riuscito a vivere in pace con le citta’ italiane e il papato, con tutta probabilita’ avrebbe speso somme piu’ consistenti per libri, bestie e spettacoli… (213)

Uomo di discreta levatura intellettuale e di ragionevoli qualita’ politiche, complice una doppia eredita’ si trovo’ suo malgrado invischiato in un’interminabile lotta con le rivendicazioni di primato temporale della Chiesa romana; e quando il guanto di sfida venne lanciato, non seppe contrastare con la dovuta energia il primato morale che il papato si attribuiva nell’universo cristiano. (365)

[Matthew Gilmore · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a kind of talmudic approach to Frederick...the basic life story is absent. Or maybe Don Quixote is a better comparison--always charging at windmills--in this case straw men representations of previous historians' arguments.

[Tucidide88 · Rating 2 out of 5]

La biografia di Abulafia è salita al rango di testo fondamentale per ogni bibliografia su Federico II. Quasi sempre viene visto come il contraltare di Kantorowicz, lo storico di riferimento per smontare il mito dello “stupor mundi” e il punto di partenza per lavori di storici successivi (come quello più sintetico di Houben). È già molto, chiaro. Tuttavia, così come Abulafia ha dedicato tutti i suoi sforzi per smontare Federico II, si potrebbe benissimo fare lo stesso per smontare questo saggio meno autorevole del previsto.
Innanzitutto, Abulafia si sente in dovere di impostare il saggio con due capitoli dedicati ai due rami dinastici di Federico II: quello svevo e quello normanno. Non una cattiva saggia ma fin troppo sproporzionata se si considera che questa parte occupa una settantina di pagina in un saggio di 370 circa (a seconda delle edizioni, ovviamente). Il problema più eclatante, però, è nel metodo: con la pretesa doverosa di correggere certe forzature esagerate del passato, Abulafia spesso esagera in senso opposto, minimizzando i meriti e ingigantendo certi difetti; non lo fa sempre, ben inteso, e talvolta riconosce a Federico II certi indubbi successi o certi talenti (come quello diplomatico e “ragionevoli qualità politiche”), ma quest’impostazione costante sembra rendere il saggio sempre un libro nei confronti della storiografia precedente più che un libro autonomo. Inoltre, Abulafia procede sempre con una precisa tattica e con la coerenza monolitica di un Innocenzo IV (papa che non disistima): Federico non ha conseguito quello che in realtà la storiografia crede, o Federico non ha raggiunto delle eccellenze in quel campo, e allora va smontato. Ma si può ragionare con questa metodologia un po’ assolutistica se il libro che scrivi dovrebbe essere un invito a relativizzare? Oltretutto, e questo mi sembra il difetto più clamoroso del libro, sembra più che altro un cumulo di fatti che coinvolgono anche Federico, più che una biografia su Federico: spesso i papi sono più abbozzati dell’imperatore, spesso i rovesci di politica interna ed esterna prendono il sopravvento sul ritratto. Basicamente, l’unico vero capitolo in cui ritrae Federico è l’ultimo, cioè tre paginette di conclusioni che nel complesso deludono e che danno dei giudizi più che delle analisi.
Ciò detto, Abulafia a volte coglie nel segno e fa bene a calmare gli animi di storici (e non solo storici) esagitati. Entriamo nei contenuti. Il merito più grande di Abulafia è quello di aver sottolineato i debiti di Federico nei confronti delle corti normanne precedenti, arrivando a sostenere che forse il suo contributo è stato inferiore rispetto a sovrani precedenti più impegnati nella cultura, nell’architettura e nell’idea stessa di corte. I cortigiani di Federico non sarebbero stati all’altezza di altre corte normanne, le opere d’arte sarebbero state poche e sopravvalutate, Federico non avrebbe brillato per genio e doti intellettuali. Inoltre, la costituzione di Menfi non sarebbe particolarmente originale rispetto al diritto di Giustiniano e al diritto romano. Anche il genio di Federico politico sarebbe assolutamente scostante, come dimostra il comportamento a Cipro e la gestione interna della situazione in Terra Santa. C’è assolutamente del vero in tutto questo, ma è un po’ troppo gonfiato e aleatorio se letto così, perché va relativizzato: la Costituzione di Menfi non è il codice giustiniano, ma fu ottimo esempio di diritto pratico e in linea con le esigenze dell’epoca; le opere d’arte generate furono poche, ed è vero perché Federico II investì soprattutto le sue risorse per una politica interna ed esterna aggressiva, pertanto è chiaro che le sue priorità erano altre, ma non si può liquidare costruzioni come Castel del Monte come un’accozzaglia di gotico romaneggiante, idem per altre opere; Federico non fu un grandissimo intellettuale, ed è bene rimarcarlo, ma il suo trattato sulla falconeria resta un contributo notevolissimo e nemmeno Abulafia lo smonta, senza contare che Federico proseguì la direzione “orientale” dei sovrani normanni nell’impegno poetico e intellettuale, magari con minor quantità di contributi, ma era soprattutto un uomo di caccia e pratico, anche se non mancò di continue curiosità filosofiche, teologiche, intellettuali; e poi c’è la parte sulla scuola siciliana, che viene minimizzata rispetto alla poesia provenzale in termini poetici, ma è un fatto che viene considerato il primo movimento della letteratura italiana, che abbia generato il sonetto, che ha posto le basi per la topica successiva e, soprattutto, bisogna considerare che nel Medioevo la poesia non doveva essere originale come la intendiamo oggi bensì ancorata a topiche precise e consolidate. Altri tre argomenti sono un po’ rivedibili: l’università, l’intolleranza (o meglio la sopravvalutazione della tolleranza) e la crociata. Abulafia liquida l’università Federico II come un’istituzione di second’ordine, concentrandosi soprattutto sul decadere di Salerno come facoltà di medicina; ma non va alla radice della grande intuizione di Federico II, cioè quella di utilizzare l’università come bacino per nuovi funzionari che rispondevano direttamente a lui, evitando così di impiegare funzionari religiosi ed educati in università a vocazione religiosa. Quanto alla tolleranza sopravvalutata, è vero che Federico fu in questo senso uomo del Medioevo che separava ebrei e musulmani dai cristiani, non esitando a essere molto duro o durissimo con entrambi (ma soprattutto con i secondi, pensando agli arabi “ribelli” dell’entroterra siciliano, più perché eversivi che per altre ragioni): d’altro canto, Federico si assunse il compito di evitare le accuse fanatiche contro gli ebrei di Fulda e dirottò tutti i musulmani a Lucera con un trattamento per l’epoca preferenziale (tanto da formarsi un esercito musulmano personale): tutto questo non fa di lui un illuminista ante litteram, né avrebbe potuto esserlo dato che viveva nel tredicesimo secolo, ma nemmeno lo relega soltanto a uomo tipico del suo tempo, semmai agli occhi assolutistici di Federico tutti dovevano semplicemente sottomettersi a lui aldilà dell’etnia o della religione. Anche sulla crociata conquistata quasi soltanto con l’arte della diplomazia, Abulafia fa un po’ orecchie da mercante, concentrandosi sull’incapacità di Federico nel comprendere le dinamiche orientali e le faide interne: vero, ma non si può pretendere che un politico riesca in tutto e, comunque, quella crociata che ha portato alla conquista di Gerusalemme senza battaglie (con tutti i limiti dell’accordo, che Abulafia ovviamente sottolinea), resta un’impresa stupefacente. Infine, lo rimprovera anche di essere stato un imperatore che ha innanzitutto pensato alla sua schiatta più che a ogni altra cosa: come se altre dinastie, dai Savoia agli Asburgo, anche in epoche successive, non hanno fatto lo stesso! Persino la diversa politica attuata in Sicilia e in Germania viene considerata sintomo di approssimazione e incongruenza, mentre invece, anche per l’ottica della schiatta, Federico seppe proprio considerare la diversità dei due territori e i diversi rapporti (anche elettivi) con la nobiltà.
Se queste frecce non vanno a buon segno, Abulafia però a volte sa avanzare oltre i predecessori. Si distingue soprattutto nell’esporre le acquisizioni archivistiche, sia in materia commerciale che nelle relazioni notarili-epistolari intrattenute da Federico con funzionari, banchieri e altri personaggi. Anche in questo caso, però, il dettaglio sembra soffocare la sintesi e una lettura generale, fino a rasentare il puntiglio dispersivo. Se proprio avesse voluto perorare una causa più palese, avrebbe potuto insistere di più sulla scarsezza militare di Federico, argomento non sempre vagliato.
Infine un ultimo punto e non meno importante: mi riferisco alla scrittura, perché qui si vede l’enorme differenza rispetto al capolavoro di Kantorowicz. Leggere il Federico II di Kantorowicz, con tutti i suoi limiti faziosi e il suo immaginario in parte datato, è comunque un’esperienza degna dei grandi storici dell’antichità per capacità narrativa, riflessione critica, stile e ritrattistica degli attori in gioco. Leggere il Federico II di Abulafia è un’esperienza assolutamente media che non alza mai il tiro, che non appassiona, che non si distingue. Una biografia dalle buone intenzioni ma onestamente sopravvalutata.

[Giancarlo Corsetti · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ho amato questo libro per la sua ricchezza di informazioni storicamente verificate sulla vita e sulla politica di Federico II. Uno studio che opera una ricostruzione della figura dell'imperatore prendendo le distanze dalle retoriche opposte che lo hanno accompagnato nei secoli: Stupor Mundi o Anticristo? La risposta di David Abufalia è una spiegazione razionale delle scelte politiche del re-imperatore nelle varie fasi della sua vita, così come delle posizioni assunte dai suoi alleati, avversari e nemici. Un testo che consiglio assolutamente.

[AJO · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is a thorough biography of an admirable leader of the medieval era, David Abulafia has deep understanding of medieval world and does a worthy job of showing the ma behind the myth of Frederick II, his antecedents and his legacy. There is a noticeable bias however against excessive praise of Frederick that runs throughout it, the book doesn’t stand alone as a biography but is actually written contra to previous characterisations of the emperor, in a way that seems like an overcorrection at times. Abulafia often minimises achievements and stresses the unexceptional, product of his times quality of Frederick II beyond what seems reasonable from the facts themselves.

[Fred Dameron · Rating 3 out of 5]

A very well written work but the style is 1960, 70's. It is readable but a slog. The information was enlightening. One note: the idea that people in power put their grasp for power above their countries or religious duties need. Honorius III wanted Frederick to fight for the Church in the Holy Land and accepted the young Emperor's sluggishness. Gregory the IX and Innocent the IV both were more interested in taking over the Kingdom of Sicily and used every trick in the Holy See's arsenal to get their hands on Southern Italy and away from Frederick. If both these Popes had looked at the other threats to Europe they would have let Frederick go and Crusade against the Mongols in Eastern Europe or the Turks in the Balkans. Either of these wars would have saved Europe from domination in the East by either the Turk or the Mongol. But, both Popes were more concerned with a land grab in Italy which kept the Holy Roman Emperor stuck in Lombardy fighting the Popes supported forces and or fighting against the Pope forces in the Marches of Central Italy to protect the Kingdom of Sicily. And we humans have NOT learned this lesson. By looking at what is best for me as ruler I very well will leave actual threats to my people in the lurch and unprotected. Only my thoughts.

This is a slog and very political and diplomatic history, but with a lot of good information. Especially good for a future Final Jeopardy answer.

[Laura · Rating 5 out of 5]

A much more balanced, objective, clearer biography than the two other major biographies written in the 20th century about Frederick, though perhaps slightly less detailed in some ways (the notes are sparse and the bibliography very general) if you are seeking an academic tome.

Understandable that the focus is the king/emperor but more info about his mother and wives would have been nice. For that read Jacqueline Alio's Queens of Sicily 1061-1266.

[Cat · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is generally acknowledged as an excellent, recent account of the life of Frederick II. Frederick is famous in the German-speaking world for being an inspiration to the Nazi party. The earlier biography by Kantorowicz(who later taught in America), was seized on by Nazi's and Nazi sympathizers in support for a strong, mystical leader who would bring Germany back to greatness. Although Abulafia notes this troubled history in the notes, he account is mostly concerned with Frederick II's actual life and times. In a way, he is trying to debunk the superstition and legend that was built up around Frederick II in the early part of the twentieth century.

So who was Frederick II? He was the heir to the kingdom of Sicily and the Holy Roman Empire. He managed to unify his vast kingdom during his lifetime, he re-conquered Jerusalem without a fight, he wrote a subperb book on Falconry, corresponded with Arab scholars and, oh yes, fought bitterly with a succesion of Popes who just hated his guts.

In fact, these Popes, more then Frederick himself, emerge as the focal point of this book. More then anything it was their unreasoning hatred for Frederick's power that defined his life. Particularly, it seemed like Frederick spent the majority of his life fighting rebels in Lombardy who were supported by the Pope.

Recommended.

[Sebastian · Rating 1 out of 5]

The author claims that Frederick II is Christian and to prove it he implicitly points to the behavior of the emperor in matters of religion but nothing suggests he did it for faith instead of survival. It is much easier to make a case that Frederick II was Pagan considering his architectural works (for example the statue of Justitia, and the Faun in Castel del Monte), but the author is simply too dishonest to look at all the facts and see them in context.
It also fails at describing the administrative policies of the emperor, and it appears that Abulafia hates Frederick. Probably because he knows he wasn't a Christian, ie didn't worship a jew that teaches Gentiles to turn the other cheek. Christianity is Jewish supremacy and Abulafia doesn't like when Gentiles choose Pagan religiosity.
A perfect example of a morally and intellectually bankrupt scholarship which seems to be everywhere when religion is concerned.
Kantorowicz's book is so much better, and in spite of him being Jewish he looked at Frederick's views on religion with little to no bias, probably because he was a nationalist.

[Laginestra · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lo stupor mundi ritrattato e riavvicinato ad una dimensione umana, terrena, dove errare è possibile anche per un illuminato. Gran libro.

[Ellis Knox · Rating 4 out of 5]

A necessary corrective to Kantorowicz.

[Mark Anthony Bugeja · Rating 5 out of 5]

A sweeping biography of a man that epitomises the Middle ages. He was a king and emperor that was way ahead of his times.