§ 1. The Imperial Election.

On the death of Maximilian in January 1519, the destinies of Europe fell into the hands of three young Monarchs, all of them of marked individuality and of great ambition.The three candidates for the Imperial throne. Of these HenryVIII., now in his twenty-eighth year, was the eldest. The profound impression made on foreigners by his personal appearance is probably in part to be attributed to the fairness of his complexion, always much admired on the Continent; but although in after-life he became very corpulent, his high colouring, his massive head and wide-set eyes, his tall, powerful, yet active frame must have been striking enough. When to this is added his prowess in games and in the joust, his proficiency in music and languages, and, above all, his masterful character, we shall probably not think the estimate exaggerated.

FrancisI. was only three years younger. Nearly as tall as Henry, his dark complexion, his corpulence and thin legs especially struck contemporaries. A patron of art, a lover of pleasure, he was a true son of the Renaissance in its shallower aspects. With little foresight, prudence, or statesmanship—a bad King and a bad man—he was bold to rashness, fully as ambitious as his rivals and yet was gifted with a certain chivalrous spirit which was wanting in Charles, and which formed the redeeming feature of his otherwise worthless character.

Of Charles little was at that time known, and little expected. He was only nineteen, and was completely under the control of his Flemish counsellor, William de Croy, ‘le Sieur de ChiÈvres.’ Of middle height and slouching gait, his fine forehead and powerful aquiline nose were spoilt by the underhanging jaw of the Hapsburg, and small bad teeth. The troubles of his early life, the quarrels between his father and his grandfather Ferdinand, the jealousy which Ferdinand had subsequently shown him, the madness of his mother, had made him reserved and grave, and perhaps destroyed the enthusiasm of youth. These qualities gave the impression of stupidity; yet he was soon to show the world that, beneath that impassive exterior, lay a clear-headedness, a business capacity, and a determination which, coupled with indifference to sentiment, was to prove him the ablest statesman of the three.

These young Kings were the most important candidates for the imperial throne vacant by Maximilian’s death, the election to which now monopolised the attention of Europe. Maximilian had squandered money and promises to win the Electors, and fondly believed that he had secured the votes of five of them for his grandson; but no sooner was he dead, than they repudiated their engagements, and began to chaffer again for bribes. Henry was scarcely a serious candidate; of the other two, the chances of Francis seemed at first the best. The victory of Marignano, and his ambition for military renown, pointed him out as the most likely leader of that Crusade of which Europe was ever talking, though never undertaking; and Francis vowed that, if elected, he would be in Constantinople within three years. LeoX., although unwilling to declare himself, hoped to see Francis elected. The possession of Milan by the French made their friendship necessary if the Medici were to be secure in Florence, and it was the traditional policy of the Popes to prevent Naples and the Empire from falling into the same hands. ‘Do you know,’ said Leo, ‘that it is only forty miles from Rome to the Neapolitan frontier?’ The Electors, more especially Frederick the Wise of Saxony, and JoachimI. of Brandenburg, had many of them been irritated by Maximilian’s opposition to reform, and by his general policy towards them (cf. p. 110 ff.). The Rhenish Electors—that is, the three Archbishops of Mayence, TrÈves, and Cologne, and the Elector Palatine—feared the vengeance of Francis if they refused their votes and Richard Greifenklau, the Elector of TrÈves, was an ally of the Duke of Gueldres, the inveterate enemy of the Hapsburgs.

Francis, moreover, was determined to obtain the coveted title. ‘And he spent three millions of gold,’ he said, ‘he would be Emperor’; and the bribes he offered to the Electors were higher than Charles had to give. So poor indeed did the prospects of Charles appear that he was urged by some to retire in favour of his brother Ferdinand, an alternative which Charles rejected with warmth, as fatal to the interests of his house, though promising that, if elected, he would prevail upon Germany to accept his brother as his successor. He then instructed his agents, for he himself was in Spain, to spare no pains and to refuse nothing whereby his election might be secured. Thus the dishonourable traffic continued with the Electors, who were at the election itself to swear that they gave their votes free from all promise, engagement, or earnest-money.

How the matter might have ended, if it had been left to the Electors, it is impossible to say. But, as the day of election drew near, the sentiment of Germany began to show itself unmistakably.German sentiment declares for Charles. Not only did the literary men declare for Charles, but the Suabian League also began to move. This powerful League had, in the previous May, driven Ulrich, Duke of WÜrtemberg, from his duchy on account of his cruelty and misgovernment, and was in a position to enforce its views. The League was commanded by Duke William of Bavaria, whose sister had been brutally treated by her husband, the Duke Ulrich, and by Franz von Sickingen, the famous imperial knight, who was already in the pay of Charles. The army of the League now proclaimed that it would not submit to the election of Francis, and was joined by the Swiss. The Confederates were generally the opponents of the Hapsburgs, and in 1499, by the peace of Basel, which closed their last war with Maximilian, had gained their freedom from imperial laws, justice, and taxation (cf. p. 124). Yet, influenced by Mathias Schinner, the Cardinal of Sion, they now supported the cause of Charles.

In the north, too, the Duke of Brunswick-WolfenbÜttel threatened to take up arms for the German candidate. This strong expression of German sentiment naturally influenced the Electors. They therefore lowered their demands, and accepted smaller sums and promises from Charles than Francis offered; while the Fuggers, the Rothschilds of that day, refused to honour the bills of the French King. Leo, too, seeing ‘that it was useless to run his head against a brick wall,’ abandoned his opposition to Charles.

The most important suffrage to be gained was that of the Archbishop of Mayence, the brother of Joachim of Brandenburg. His vote would certainly carry with it that of the vacillating Hermann von der Wied, Archbishop of Cologne, and he might have some influence on his brother, although that ‘father of all avarice’ was deeply pledged to support the French King. The Archbishop had been offered 120,000 florins and the perpetual legateship of Germany by Francis. Nevertheless, after much haggling, he accepted Charles’ smaller promise of 72,000 florins and the legateship, and championed his cause in the electoral college which met on June 18.The Electors finally elect Charles. Here the Elector of TrÈves, who had dipped deeply into French money-bags, urged the claims of Francis, and suggested, that if he were not acceptable, they should elect some other German prince likely to be less dangerous than Charles—the Duke of Bavaria, the Margrave of Brandenburg, or the Elector of Saxony. This had been the final move of Francis. The Elector of Saxony was the only one who had honourably refused all bribes, and so great was the reputation of his virtuous and godly life, as also of his singular wisdom, that, had he been willing, he might have been chosen. Too shrewd, however, to accept so dangerous a position, and patriotic enough to wish it conferred on a German, he declined the offer, and declared for Charles. His conduct decided the matter. Lewis, the young King of Bohemia, had married Mary, sister of Charles, and voted for his brother-in-law. Hermann von der Wied, Archbishop of Cologne, followed the lead of Mayence; the three remaining Electors, the Archbishop of TrÈves, the Elector Palatine, and the Margrave of Brandenburg, followed suit, and Charles was unanimously elected Emperor. The papal confirmation was no longer thought necessary for the assumption of the title of Emperor, and, though Charles was subsequently crowned by the Pope at Bologna (1530), he at once assumed the title, not of King of the Romans, but of Emperor Elect. Thus ended the most memorable of the elections to that imperial dignity, which was fast becoming a mere shadow—an election which surpassed all others in the shameless corruption and intrigue which accompanied it, and which Henry’s agent Pace declared to be ‘the dearest merchandise which ever was bought.’

The desire of Francis to attain the title is a proof of his want of statesmanship. His success would have been disastrous to his country; the hostility of Germany, and probably of the whole of Europe, would have been aroused, and the resources of France would have been exhausted in a struggle in which she was not really interested.

By the election of Charles, the magnificent dreams of FrederickIII. and of Maximilian were in part realised. The house of Hapsburg now ruled over Germany, the Netherlands, Spain, Naples, and a large part of the New World, and held once more the title of the Holy Roman Emperor. And yet it may be questioned whether the imperial dignity was really a source of strength. As a price of his election Charles had to sign the ‘Capitulations,’ which henceforth were demanded of every Emperor Elect. These ‘Capitulations’ well illustrate the views of the German Princes.The Capitulations. The fear of the Spanish and Flemish parentage of the new Emperor is seen in their demands that German or Latin should be the official language, that imperial offices should be reserved for Germans, that the States should not be subject to any foreign jurisdiction, and that no foreign troops should serve in imperial wars without the consent of the Diet. The opposition to papal claims prompted the Princes to insist on the abolition of every innovation introduced by the court of Rome, in contravention of the concordat made with Germany after the Council of Constance (1418). Finally, determined to maintain their privileges, they demanded that Charles should confirm their sovereign rights and appoint a standing Council which should take a share in government. These last demands were of serious import, and led to serious controversies. For the rest, as the sequel will show, Charles’ numerous and ill-assorted possessions and claims led to difficulties, before which at last he succumbed.

That the election of CharlesV. would lead to war was almost inevitable.War inevitable. The fears of the French were not unnaturally aroused by the union of the Hapsburg and Spanish claims in his person, while the personal vanity of Francis had received a deadly affront by the election of his rival to the Empire.

Under these circumstances, it was not difficult to find occasions of quarrel. The terms of the treaty of Noyon (1516) (cf. p. 83), had not been carried out on either side. Francis could complain that Spanish Navarre had never been restored to Henry d’Albret, while Charles asserted that Milan belonged to him, as an imperial fief, and demanded the restoration of the Duchy of Burgundy as part of his Burgundian inheritance. Nevertheless, it was clearly to the advantage of Charles that the war should be postponed. Now, as throughout his reign, the very extent of his dominions and the number of his titles were a source of weakness.Charles wishes to put off the war. Spain, indignant at the rule of the Flemings, was on the point of rebellion; Germany, which Charles had not yet visited since his election, for he was still in Spain, was annoyed at his continued absence; the Diet had to be reckoned with; and the question of ‘the little monk Luther’ demanded immediate attention.

Francis on the contrary, with less extravagant pretensions, was master of a consolidated kingdom. He enjoyed a prerogative far less controlled, more especially with regard to the finances and the army, than his rival. He held the central position, and, as long as he retained Milan, cut off the Emperor from all communication by land between his German and Italian territories. Under these circumstances ChiÈvres was probably right, apart from the particular interests of the Netherlands, in wishing, at least, to postpone the commencement of hostilities. France, on the other hand, should have begun the war at once. But the treasury had been exhausted by the extravagance of the King, by the expenses incurred in the last war, and in the canvass for the Empire, and the addition of fresh imposts would cause discontent. Above all it was thought desirable, if possible, first to secure the alliance, or at least the neutrality, of England. Charles, too, realised the importance of English aid; and the two rivals were so evenly matched that an opportunity, such as had never occurred before, was opened to England to hold the tongue of the balance.

The opportunity was eagerly seized by Wolsey. To continue friends with both sides without offending either; to keep both asunder by fostering mutual suspicion;Attempt of Wolsey to keep the peace. to prevent either from declaring war lest the aggressor might find England arrayed against him, and thereby to prevent if possible, if not to delay, the outbreak of hostilities; meanwhile, to gain for England the proud position of arbiter of Europe—this was the aim of Wolsey, a policy which for nigh two years met with such success that the two most powerful monarchs of Europe became the humble suitors of the Cardinal and his master.

In May, 1520, Charles hurried from Spain to meet HenryVIII. at Sandwich, an act of condescension on the Emperor’s part which excited the astonishment of Europe. Immediately afterwards (June 7), followed the interview between Henry and Francis at the ‘Field of the Cloth of Gold,’ near Guisnes in the Pale of Calais—again, be it noted, on English ground. The importance attached to this famous interview is not only attested by the magnificence of the display, by the feats of arms in which even the kings themselves took part to the discomfiture of Francis, but by the attention it received from the artists and the writers of the day. Thence HenryVIII. passed to a second interview with Charles at Gravelines (July 10). The actual results of these meetings are doubtful;42 but it is probable that Wolsey declined any definite agreements, since his policy was to avoid declaring himself on either side.

Thus the negotiations dragged on, much to the indignation of the Pope, LeoX., who had made treaties with both, yet was anxious that war should begin without delay in order that he might see who was likely to prove the winner before he compromised himself too far.

At the close of the year 1520, however, the diplomacy of Wolsey began to break down. Francis determined to take the offensive, and accused Wolsey of betraying his secret to the Pope;The diplomacy of Wolsey fails to avert the struggle. while Charles, who had long been hesitating whether to carry out the proposed match with Mary of England, or to marry the Infanta of Portugal, attempted to implicate Henry in a war with France and demanded that he should fulfil his promises. Wolsey, however, was not thus to be entrapped, and recalled Tunstal, his agent at the Emperor’s court. Yet Charles was in no position to declare war, and the actual outbreak of hostilities was accordingly postponed till 1521. Meanwhile the troubles in Spain, the difficulties with the Diet, and the question of the condemnation of Luther, demanded the attention of the Emperor.

§ 2. The Revolt of the Comuneros

The troubles in Spain had commenced immediately on the death of Ferdinand. In spite of the temporary success which had accompanied the policy of that King and his consort,Discontent in Spain. the work of consolidation was by no means complete. Not only were the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon independent of each other, but even Valencia and Catalonia, although dependencies of Aragon, had their separate Cortes and characteristic institutions. This outward variety of constitutional machinery was but the symbol of deep and essential differences—differences which were the outcome of the physical peculiarities of the various countries, their racial differences, and their past history. The rivalries between Castile and Aragon were of old standing, and no sharper contrast is to be found in Europe than that which existed between the primitive and poverty-stricken population of the Asturias, the proud Castilian noble, and the busy trader of Barcelona, the democratic capital of Catalonia. Nor was there more unity within the separate kingdoms themselves. The social divisions were deepest in Castile. There the nobles enjoyed numerous exclusive privileges, notably that of freedom from taxation. The revenues derived from their wide domains were so great as to exceed in several instances those of the crown itself. Living in proud isolation, they despised the burghers of the towns and their struggles for the constitutional rights of the Cortes, the meetings of which they themselves had long ceased to attend.

In Aragon the nobles were less isolated. They were still represented in the Cortes, and joined with the deputies of the clergy and the towns in common defence of their political rights. Even here, however, the social cleavages were deep, while in Valencia things were nearly as bad as in Castile.The discontent reaches its climax on the accession of Charles, especially in Castile. But if Spain was the victim of national and class jealousies and divisions, she was not on that account less tenacious of her privileges, and the change of rulers gave her an opportunity of reasserting them. When therefore Charles came to Spain a year after his grandfather’s death (1517), he had met with considerable opposition. The Cortes of Aragon only consented to acknowledge him as King in conjunction with his mother after he had sworn to confirm their liberties, and in Catalonia and Valencia he met with similar difficulties.

Meanwhile, in Castile matters were even worse. The Castilians had been irritated by the rule of the Fleming, ChiÈvres—the ‘goat’ as they called him in allusion to his name—who had administered affairs till Charles came to Spain. When their new King did arrive he hurt their pride by his ignorance of their language, excited the indignation of many by his heartless treatment of Ximenes, who was rewarded for his faithful services by being dismissed to his diocese to die (November 17), and alienated all by conferring the dignities which had been held by the Cardinal upon his hated Flemings. The see of Toledo was given to the Bishop of Tournay, the nephew of ChiÈvres; and Sauvage, another Fleming, succeeded him in his office of Chancellor of Castile. Accordingly the Cortes of Valladolid, in 1518, while acknowledging Charles and his mother as co-rulers, and voting him a ‘servicio’ or money grant, for two years, demanded that no foreigners should be given office; that no gold, silver, or horses should be exported from Spain; that Charles should speedily marry; and that his brother Ferdinand should act as his representative until he should have children. These demands, if ever granted, were not complied with. Meanwhile, the imperial election increased their apprehensions. The Emperor, they said, would rarely be in Spain, and they would have to pay the expenses of the honour as they had of the election. Charles, anxious to leave Spain to meet HenryVIII. at Sandwich, and to be crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle (Aachen), consented to call another meeting of the Cortes before leaving the country. He, however, avoided the larger towns on account of their disaffection, and summoned it to Santiago (March 31), in Galicia, and subsequently (April 25) transferred it to Corunna that he might be near his ships. Here he extorted a sum of money by promises to return again in three years, on the faith of a King, to appoint no foreigners to office, and to spend the ‘servicio’ only in the interests of Castile. The Cortes, however, was by no means a full one; the deputies of Salamanca had been excluded, and some, such as Toledo, had refused to send any. Even so, the vote was only carried by a narrow majority.

The city of Toledo had special cause for indignation. The appointment of ChiÈvres’ nephew as Archbishop had been looked upon as a special insult,Toledo rises. April 21, 1520. and the envoys sent to remonstrate with Charles, had been refused an audience. The citizens therefore rose, headed by two nobles, Don Pedro Laso de la Vega, and Don Juan de Padilla, son of the Commendador or Governor of Leon, whose intrepid wife had forced him into a career for which he was ill fitted. They seized the government in the name of the king and queen, drove the royal Corregidor from the town, and formed a ‘Communidad’ of deputies from the parishes of the city (April 21).

Charles was now to experience for the first time, but not the last, the conflict of those jarring interests which resulted from his anomalous position. As King of Spain, his presence there was imperatively needed, yet his European interests necessitated his departure. HenryVIII. had promised to meet Francis in May or early in June, and, if the conference at Sandwich was not to be abandoned (cf. p. 136), no time was to be lost. Accordingly, on the 19th of May, he left Spain almost as a fugitive, having appointed Adrian, his old tutor, regent in Castile, Don Juan de Lanuza, viceroy in Aragon, and Don Diego de Mendoza, in Valencia.

The departure of the King only served to increase the discontent. The Spaniards felt that henceforth their country would no longer be the centre of his interests,Charles’ departure from Spain, May 19, is followed by the revolt of Castile. but only a province of his wider Empire. The revolt therefore spread rapidly. At Segovia the deputy who had voted for the ‘servicio’ was murdered. Salamanca, Zamora, Madrid, Burgos, and many other towns rose; and finally Valladolid, then the seat of government, took up arms. Meanwhile, in Valencia, a social war was raging between the nobles and the commons, although the disturbances there had no connection with those in Castile. At the end of July, the movements in Castile, hitherto isolated, coalesced under the leadership of the citizens of Toledo, and a ‘Junta’ of deputies from the insurgent towns was formed at Avila.The Junta set up Joanna. August, 1520. In August, Padilla, marching on Tordesillas, not far from Valladolid, seized Charles’ mother, Joanna, who was now completely imbecile, and established the revolutionary government in her name. With this formidable revolt, Adrian was quite unable to cope; he had been left without adequate resources in troops or money, and had not even been intrusted with full powers. After a fruitless attempt to quell the rebellion, he fled to Medina de Rio Seco, and hastily wrote to Charles demanding his own recall, and urging him to come quickly or Spain would be lost. Charles, however, was in no position to comply with his request, or to send reinforcements. He therefore bade Adrian temporise. He was to summon a Cortes, to offer to abandon the ‘servicio’ and promise to govern Spain according to the ancient laws; yet in no way to touch the prerogatives of the crown. At the same time, Charles appointed Don Fadrique Henriques, the High Admiral, and Don Inigo de Velasco, the High Constable of Castile, as co-regents, hoping by this act to gain the support of the nobles. Meanwhile the ‘Junta,’ after vainly attempting to prove Joanna sane, and to put her on the throne, proceeded to draw up a charter of their liberties. They called upon Charles to return to Spain, to marry the Infanta of Portugal,The Junta present their Charter. to reduce his expenses, and to live like his forefathers, and passed the following decrees. No foreigner was again to hold office; the taxes were to be reduced, and the exemptions of the nobility abolished; the crown lands, which had been alienated, were to be resumed, and future alienations were declared illegal; finally a Cortes, fully representative of the three orders of nobles, clergy, and burghers, was to meet once in every three years. These decrees were declared to be fundamental laws, which could never be revoked by King or Cortes, and Charles’ acceptance of them was made the condition of his return.

Hitherto the nobles had displayed extraordinary apathy. They had been irritated at the policy of Ferdinand and Isabella, and if, with few exceptions, they had not taken any active part in the rebellion, they had given Adrian no assistance. But now their fears began to be aroused; some of these decrees touched their privileges, and the movement in Castile threatened to follow that of Valencia,The nobles declare against the rebels. and to assume the character of a social revolt. Moreover, the appointment of two of their number as co-regents indicated a change in the policy of the government, and had done something to conciliate them. The hostility of the nobles once awakened, the position of the ‘comuneros’ became critical, and their chances of success were further jeopardised by the internal dissensions which now broke out.

The citizens of Burgos, the capital of Old Castile, became jealous at the leading part assumed by Toledo, the capital of New Castile, while Pedro Laso, the President of the Junta,Jealousies weaken the rebels’ cause. who represented the more moderate party, was opposed to the more extreme views of Padilla. The Regents, seizing the opportunity, managed to detach Burgos from the Junta (October 1520), and in December, the Count de Haro, son of the Constable, retook Tordesillas and gained possession of Joanna. Yet in spite of these successes the danger was by no means over. The nobles showed their want of union, and even the Constable and the Admiral quarrelled. The rebels, on the other hand, received the valuable support, not only of the Count de Salvatierra, a powerful noble of the north, but also of AcuÑa, the Bishop of Zamora. This clever and ambitious ecclesiastic attempted to give to the movement a wider significance, and to establish a democracy, while he hoped to gain for himself the Archbishopric of Toledo, just vacant by the death of the nephew of ChiÈvres. In these designs he obtained the support of Francis, and even the neutrality of the Pope. Inspired by these notable additions to their party, the ‘communeros’ displayed renewed vigour.Renewed vigour of the comuneros. March, 1521. Padilla, marching on the town of Torrelobaton near Valladolid, took it and put it to the sack (March 3, 1521); and the city of Burgos, enraged at the refusal of the royalists to confirm their promises, again took up arms. Once more the King’s cause seemed to be lost. The rebels had a short time before refused the concessions offered them by his Regents, and determined to win all or lose all. Charles therefore fell back upon his previous policy of letting things take their course, while he refused to surrender a jot of his prerogative.

This policy of obstinate inactivity met with a success it did not deserve. It is the common fate of all rebellions, when not guided by leaders of strong individuality, to fall to pieces of themselves.Failure of the rebellion. This now happened in Spain. The leaders of the revolt were men of no real strength. Padilla was an unpractical enthusiast, and the Bishop of Zamora a dishonest, self-seeking man. There was a complete absence of statesmanship or self-sacrifice. The Junta lost all control. Pedro Laso, the President, disgusted at the turn things were taking, began to waver, and was followed by many who feared that anarchy would ensue. The nobles, at last thoroughly alarmed, laid aside their quarrels, and showed a unanimity which, if displayed at first, would have nipped the revolt in the bud. Finally, the Count de Haro, reinforced by troops sent by the Count de Najera from Navarre, advanced against the army of the ‘communeros,’ which since the fall of Torrelobaton had remained idle. Meeting them on the plain of Villalar, as they attempted to retreat to Toro, he won a decisive victory. The rebels outnumbered, especially in cavalry, fled, leaving their commander Padilla in the enemy’s hands.They are defeated at Villalar. April 23, 1521. On the following day he was executed. The defeat of Villalar, and the loss of their leader, sufficed to end the matter. The Bishop of Zamora was seized as he attempted to fly to France, and having murdered the governor of the prison was hung. Town after town capitulated, and on April 27, 1521, the viceregents entered Valladolid.

In Toledo, the first city to rise, Donna Maria Pacheco, the intrepid widow of Padilla, still held out. But in October, finding it impossible to keep the citizens in control, she fled to Portugal, and the city and citadel opened their gates. Shortly afterwards the revolt in Valencia was put down, chiefly by the nobles themselves.

The cause of the failure of this serious revolt may be summed up in one word—disunion. The rebellion had been confined to the kingdom of Castile.Causes of failure of the Revolt. Neither Aragon nor Catalonia had moved, and the rebels of Valencia fought for their own cause and gave no support. Nor were the ‘comuneros’ of Castile of one mind. They were divided in their aims, and showed no power of concentrated action, while their cause was further weakened by the incapacity and the jealousies of their leaders. The prestige of the monarchy, enhanced as it had been by the policy of Ferdinand and Isabella, was too great to be thus overthrown. Indeed, but for the European difficulties of Charles, and the lukewarmness of the nobles—an attitude which is largely to be attributed to their discontent—the revolt would either never have occurred, or would have been crushed out at once.

Charles did not come to Spain till the year 1522. A few of the rebels were executed, the estates of others were confiscated.Subsequent measures of Charles. He then summoned a Cortes in which he ordered that the ‘servicio’ should be granted before grievances were heard, and forbade all discussion in the absence of the President, who was to be his nominee. In future, deputies were nominated by the government and frequently bribed; and so valuable did a seat in the Cortes become, that in 1534 we find a deputy giving 14,000 ducats for his seat. The nobles, still insisting on their privilege of exemption from taxation, continued to be excluded from the Cortes, and rapidly lost all political influence. After the decline of the military power in Spain, the higher nobility, the ‘ricos hombres,’ relapsed into luxurious idleness; the lower nobility, ‘the hidalgos,’ and the knights or ‘caballeros,’ pressed into the service of the Crown, and became its creatures, while the commoners sought for titles of nobility that they might share the emoluments of office, and enjoy the other privileges of nobility. Nor was the Church more independent. The Crown made use of its power of nominating to benefices, filled them with its adherents, and kept it in a condition of servility. The Inquisition, however, was the most efficient weapon in the hands of the Crown. It was entirely under the King’s control; the property of the condemned fell to the Crown, and no subject, cleric or lay, was free from its jurisdiction. Charles did not indeed directly tamper with the constitution of Castile, and was even more cautious in his treatment of Aragon. The meetings of the Cortes still continued, nor did Charles refuse to listen to their petitions. Nevertheless, the power of the bureaucracy of the Crown increased, and Spain, exhausted by the wars of Charles, was being prepared for the despotism of Philip.43

§ 3. The Diet of Worms, 1521.

Charles had been forced to let the revolt of the ‘comuneros’ in Spain run its course because of the serious problems in which he was involved by his position as an Austrian Prince and as Emperor.The Diet of Worms. Jan. 1521. After his interview with HenryVIII. at Gravelines in the beginning of July, he had passed on to Germany to be crowned. Partly owing to need of money, partly because of an outbreak of the plague at Aix-la-Chapelle (Aachen), this was delayed till October, and it was not till the following January, 1521, that he met his first Diet at Worms. Meanwhile he had settled the fate of the Austrian dominions. He had at first thought of keeping at least a portion of these lands in his own hands. Finally, however, while retaining the Netherlands and Franche-ComtÉ, he granted to his brother Ferdinand the whole of the hereditary Austrian lands; to which were added the claims on Hungary and Bohemia, based on Ferdinand’s marriage with the Princess Anne. Thus Spain and Austria, which had been in Charles’ hands for two years, were once more divided, never to be again united. The questions which came before this important Diet were mainly three:

1.The question of the reform of the Imperial Constitution revived those controversies, of which we have treated in speaking of Maximilian, and with very similar results. Charles had promised in his ‘Capitulations’ (p. 133) that the Council of Regency (Reichsregiment) which had existed for two brief years, 1500–1502, should be restored. But here, once more, the old controversies reappeared. The Electors wished that the Council should constitute the supreme administrative body in home and foreign affairs, even when Charles was present in Germany, and that its members should be elected by the States with the sole exception of the President, who was to be nominated by the Emperor. Charles, however, was fully determined to protect his imperial prerogatives. His views as to the imperial office were, if possible, more exalted than those of his grandfather. In his opening speech on the 28th of January, the day consecrated to the memory of Charles the Great, he declared that ‘no monarchy was comparable to the Roman Empire. This the whole world had once obeyed, and Christ Himself had paid it honour and allegiance. Unfortunately it was now only a shadow of what it had been, but he hoped with the help of those powerful countries and alliances which God had granted him, to raise it to its ancient glory.’ ‘My will,’ he said subsequently, ‘is not that there should be many, but one master, as befits the traditions of the Roman Empire.’ Yet the needs of Charles were great, and had the Diet been of one mind it might have forced its views upon him. The old jealousies, however, still existed, and Charles, by playing upon these, was able to make it abate something of its demands. It was accordingly agreed that the Emperor should nominate, not only the President, but two assessors. Of the other twenty members, the seven Electors were each to send one delegate; the six Circles, with Austria and the Netherlands, one apiece. From the imperial towns two more were to come, while one Elector in rotation, one temporal and one spiritual Prince, were always to have a seat. The Council, thus constituted, was to have the initiative in the negotiation of foreign alliances, and in settling feudal questions, subject, however, to the confirmation of the Emperor. Its powers, for the present at least, were only to continue during Charles’ absence. At the same time, the Imperial Chamber (Reichskammergericht) was slightly altered. The Emperor was to nominate the President and two assessors. The others were to be elected by the Electors and the Circles, while two were to represent the hereditary dominions of the House of Hapsburg. The most difficult question yet remained. How were the members of these bodies to be paid? If no permanent revenue were established, continuity would be impossible, and if the Emperor were to pay them, the real control would lie with him. Accordingly, the old controversies began again. The plan of the Common Penny having failed (p. 111), the novel idea of establishing a system of custom-duties on all imports coming into the Empire was suggested. Had this been carried, a kind of customs-union (Zollverein) would have been set on foot which might in time have led the way to a closer political union. It was, however, violently opposed by the towns and merchants, who declared that the burden would fall on them and ruin trade; and, accordingly, the Diet fell back on the system of the ‘matricula’ of 1507 (cf. p. 114).

2.Difficulties also arose on the question of the army. The war with France had already been commenced by the invasion of Spanish Navarre by the French, and by the attack of Robert de la Marck, the Lord of Bouillon, on Luxembourg. Charles also was eager to enter Italy that he might put it to the arbitrament of war, ‘whether he should become a very poor Emperor, or Francis a sorry King.’ Yet all the Diet would provide was a levy of some 4000 cavalry and 20,000 infantry, levied on the separate states according to the system of the ‘matricula.’ It was further decreed that each contingent should be under its own officers, and that the commander-in-chief, though appointed by the Emperor, must be a German. This ‘matricula’ or imperial roll was the last ever drawn up, and thus became the model for future imperial levies. From 1535 onwards, the system was gradually adopted of substituting for the men themselves the money necessary to pay the contingent—the money being assessed on the separate States, according to their liability on the roll of 1521. The grants were termed ‘Roman Months,’ because they originated with the vote for the Roman expedition of 1521.

In these constitutional struggles, Charles had obtained something. He had at least succeeded in retaining more control over the Council of Regency and the Imperial Chamber than his grandfather had enjoyed. Yet the Diet had gained much. It had now a real share in the executive and judicial administration of the Empire, and Charles would be more often absent than present. For the rest, as before, the reforms were mainly in the interest of the Electors and more powerful Princes. The towns, though represented in the Council, could easily be outvoted, and had failed, in spite of urgent protests, to secure any delegates in the Imperial Chamber. Devoid of popular support, the Imperial Chamber failed to enforce its judicial authority, while the next few years were to prove conclusively that the Council was powerless to maintain order.

3.The last question—that of the attitude of the Diet towards Luther—was to prove a far more serious question than any one at that time dreamt of—a question which was to affect deeply the future history not only of the Empire, but of Europe.

The Reformation was the outcome of two forces, independent in origin, and never wholly in agreement: the Renaissance, and the desire for reform in dogma and practice.The Renaissance and the Reformation. Of these, the first owes its birth to Italy. The Italians, despairing of political unity or stability, yet excelling other people in material prosperity and comfort, betook themselves to the study of the past for which their unbroken connection with the language and memories of Rome well fitted them. The movement, beginning in the earlier decades of the fifteenth century, had made rapid strides before it closed, and was many-sided. In art, it was marked by a return to the study of the antique; in literature, by a fresh taste for prose and poetry, founded on classic models; in scholarship, it was accompanied by the discovery of ancient manuscripts, and the revival of criticism; in philosophy, it led to a revival of the knowledge of Plato; in natural science, to a more critical inquiry into the nature of the earth and its relation to the system of the universe.

But the principles which underlay and actuated these different energies were the same. MediÆval thought had striven to sacrifice the individual. It had taught men to crucify the body with its fleshly lusts, to check the rebellious passion for independence and individuality. It had bidden men accept without question the authority of the Church, and of the temporal power. The new spirit revolted from all these doctrines. It preached the dignity of man, and of this life. It questioned the virtue of asceticism, and lusted after the world in thought and deed. It proclaimed the right of the individual to think, and feel, and shape his creed according to the dictates of reason. It inculcated the lessons of inquiry, of criticism, of naturalism. Thus a new paradise was opened to the imagination, and men rushed headlong into it with a pleasing sense of freedom. There was much that was valuable, and indeed necessary to progress, in this movement of emancipation. It led to more accurate observation, to more careful criticism, to greater regard for literature, and to the triumph of individualism. Nevertheless, it had its darker side. It was accompanied by much riot and licence. The sensuous delight in form and colour betrayed some into sensuality; the undue devotion to things of this world led to a mundane pagan spirit; criticism, to scepticism and infidelity. The atmosphere of the Renaissance was indeed inimical to that of the Christian life, yet, with a few exceptions, the Italians made no direct attack upon the Church. The literary men were well content to leave an institution alone, which was so closely wrapped up with their past traditions and with the general culture of the day, and which so conveniently patronised them, and even tolerated their satires, so long as they left her government and her dogmas alone. With the philosophers it was different. Yet even they assailed Christianity rather than the Church; and if Ficino tried to reconcile Christianity and Platonism, or Pomponazzi questioned the immortality of the soul, these scholars affected to distinguish between science and religion, and while they speculated as philosophers, professed to believe as Christians. Thus there is hardly any humanist of Italy, if we except Laurentius Valla, who attacked the claims of the Pope to interfere in temporal affairs, or the tradition that the Apostles’ Creed was the work of the apostles; and even he, for the sake of papal protection, easily retracted his errors.

For the rest, the Italian humanists were scarcely serious enough to undertake a reformation of the Church. Their temper, if not anti-religious, was irreligious, and their lives, with few exceptions, as loose as those of the churchmen whom they lampooned. Reformers there were indeed in Italy, but these had no connection with the humanists. They were men of the type of Savonarola, whose sole idea of reform was one of morals and of life, and who had no quarrel with the dogmas, or the organisation of the Church.

No sooner did the Renaissance cross the Alps than, in the hands of the more earnest-minded Germans, it became more serious and more theological, less philosophical and more dogmatic. Criticism they now applied to the Church, and in another sense to the Bible, with the intention not of destroying Christianity but of restoring it to its primitive purity.

Among numerous scholars who rose in Germany at the close of the fifteenth century,Reuchlin and Erasmus. the two most characteristic representatives of the age were John Reuchlin (1455–1522) and Desiderius Erasmus (1467–1536). Reuchlin is chiefly noticeable for his revival of the study of Hebrew, a study which he applied to the criticism of the Vulgate, and for his attempt to save the Jewish writings from indiscriminate destruction at the hands of the bigoted Dominican Hochstraten. Although a philologist, rather than a theologian, he may yet be called the father of Old Testament criticism, and during the struggle over the Jewish literature, the conflict between the old and new ideas is strongly emphasised.

But the most famous child of the German revival is Erasmus. Educated at the school of Deventer, a school which owed its origin to the Brethren of the Common Life, he was, at the date of the Diet of Worms, looked upon as the greatest scholar of his age, and enjoyed a reputation such as probably has never been equalled since. If Reuchlin may be called the father of Old Testament criticism, Erasmus may be termed the father of New Testament criticism, and of scientific theology. In 1505, he republished Valla’s notes on the New Testament, the solitary piece of biblical criticism which had come from Italy. This was followed, in 1516, by his Greek edition of the New Testament, with a Latin translation and notes. The aim of these works was to revive the knowledge of the original, and by the collation of such MSS. as were procurable, to furnish as correct a version as possible of the text. In the notes, Erasmus applied the canons of ordinary criticism to the New Testament, and thereby laid the foundations of modern biblical scholarship. The aim of his third work, the Enchiridion Militis Christi, may be gathered from a letter to his friend Colet, Dean of St. Paul’s: ‘I write,’ he says, ‘to remedy the error which makes religion depend on ceremonies and on observance of bodily acts, while neglecting true piety.’ With these views Erasmus was naturally a severe critic of the existing state of things. He lamented the ignorance of many churchmen who dreaded the new learning without understanding it; who went so far as to denounce Hebrew and Greek as heretical because they were not the language of the Vulgate, and whose bigotry had just been so conspicuously displayed in the Reuchlin controversy. He despised the idleness of the monks, and the intolerable narrowness of the scholastic pedants, with their barren disputations and endless hair-splittings. He denounced the folly of that Church which insisted on every tittle of outward ceremony and dogma, and yet neglected practical piety. These were the objects of his satirical pen in his Praise of Folly, which was written in England in 1509. In this wonderful satire, Folly, declaring herself the real source of happiness, represents herself as the authoress of all the superstition, the pedantry, the idleness, the hypocrisy, which were so prosperous in the world.

Nor was the satire of Erasmus the only one which appeared at this time. The Ship of Fools by Sebastian Brandt in 1494, and the more famous EpistolÆ Obscurorum Virorum, which arose out of the Reuchlin controversy, deal with much the same evils, though without the literary refinement of the northern scholar; while the Ship of Fools is specially noticeable as having been originally written in German, and therefore written for the people, not to the scholars. But although these and other writings indicate how deeply Germany was stirred by the corruptions of the Church, and although they had done much to prepare the way, there was as yet no idea of breaking away from her. Men still looked to internal reform by Council, or if not, by some other method.

It has been usual to accuse Erasmus of half-heartedness in the cause of religion, of carelessness in his private life, and of time-serving in his public conduct. There is certainly some truth in this attack, and assuredly he was not the man to raise the standard of avowed rebellion. As he himself confessed, he was not of the stuff of which martyrs were made. He was a scholar who loved peace, and had nothing of the religious enthusiast about him. But quite apart from his character, his whole intellectual position was incompatible with that of the Reformation, as the Protestants understand the meaning of the word. Erasmus belongs to that school of broad churchmen, who did not believe that the cure for the evils afoot was to be found in the assertion of new dogmas. In their view, too much dogma was insisted upon already. Much was at least not comprehensible to the multitude, and, if to be altered, should be altered by the slow dissolvent of learned criticism. Reform with them meant a gradual autumnal change, which might take place without violently breaking with the past, while the moral principles acknowledged by all should be enforced, and made more real. In short, Erasmus is the father of modern latitudinarianism, as well as of biblical criticism. His whole nature shrank from more violent methods, and he feared their results. He foresaw the extravagances, the controversies, and the schisms which would inevitably follow, and delay the triumph of rational theology. The Reformation of the sixteenth century could not be guided by him; but, as it has been well said, perhaps the Reformation that is to come will trace itself back to Erasmus.

The final breach with Rome was not to come from scholars of world-wide reputation, but from the son of a Thuringian peasant who,Martin Luther, 1483–1546. although of robust mind, was an indifferent Greek scholar, and knew no Hebrew. In dealing with Martin Luther it is of importance to remember the various steps in his career.

Driven by the consciousness of sin and the desire of spiritual peace he had, at the age of twenty-two, entered the Order of the Augustinian Friars at Erfurt, much against the wish of his father (1505). Here he subjected himself to the severest discipline, but without avail. ‘If ever a monk had got to heaven by monkery, I should have been he,’ he said subsequently; ‘for all that a monk could do, I did.’ Repeated acts of penance did not save him from new temptations, and God remained in his eyes an inexorable judge, demanding obedience to an impossible law. From this condition of despair, Luther was delivered by Staupitz, the Vicar-General of his Order, who counselled a closer study of the Bible, especially of the writings of St. Paul, and of the Latin father, St. Augustine. Here, in the Augustinian doctrine of justification by faith, he at last found peace; in the text, ‘The just shall live by faith,’ appeared the solution of his difficulties. The sinner was not to be saved by his own efforts or work, but by throwing himself unreservedly on the mercies of a loving God; thus received into a state of grace, the faithful believer found penitence no longer painful, but a spontaneous act of love, while work and life for God alone became easy. In this view he was strengthened at a later date by discovering that the Greek word for penitentia was et????a—in other words, that the efficacy of penance did not consist in the external ecclesiastical penalty, but in the inward change of heart. In thus asserting the Augustinian doctrine of justification by faith, Luther was only reviving what had been held by many Fathers of the early Church—a doctrine which had indeed of late been overclouded by the contrary one of the justification by works, but which had never been wholly discarded. It is no doubt true that these opposing and contradictory dogmas are incapable of entire reconciliation, nor must either of them be forced to their logical conclusion, for if we are justified by God’s grace alone, where is the necessity for works; and if by works alone we are saved, where is the need for a Redeemer? No doubt, once more, the doctrine of the justification by faith is, if it be carried to an extreme, apt to lead, and has in fact led, to fanatical fatalism and antinomianism. To Luther, however, it seemed that the evils which followed on the adoption of the contrary doctrine were worse; as if frail men could by their unaided efforts extort salvation from the Almighty. To hold this view was to nurse that very spiritual pride which was the cause of the existing corruption. The only hope for moral reformation lay in bringing man to believe in his utter unworthiness in the sight of God; thus alone could he attain that spirit of humility which was the essential preliminary to a godly life.

In 1508, Luther was summoned by Staupitz to teach at the university of Wittenberg, just founded by Frederick the Wise of Saxony. In 1510, he visited Rome, a visit which only served to strengthen him in his conviction that spiritual pride, the characteristic fault of the Renaissance, was the enemy to be withstood, and to deepen his dislike of those ceremonial observances of the Church which consecrated the belief in the efficacy of works. Luther had returned to Wittenberg to carry on his teaching, when the visit of Tetzel, a Dominican, to Germany, offering papal indulgences to those who would contribute money to the building of St. Peter’s at Rome, aroused him to immediate action. The doctrine of indulgences originated in the not unnatural view, that while penitence reconciled the sinner to God, the wrong done to man had yet to be punished, and that the punishment, like that for worldly offences, could be commuted by a fine. But the system had been shamefully abused. The Church declared that she held, in the works of supererogation of the faithful, a treasure from which she could draw for the remission of penalties, and, in her eager desire to gain money, granted indulgences carelessly and without insisting on the previous penitence of the offender. She even claimed the power of remitting the punishment of those in purgatory. Whatever may be said in defence of the primitive system of indulgences, it cannot be denied that in their exaggerated form they led to grievous abuse, and involved a flat denial of the necessity of grace. Accordingly Luther, in pursuance of academic custom, nailed on the door of the church at Wittenberg his famous ninety-five theses, in which he controverted the theory of indulgences, and challenged all comers to disprove the correctness of his statements (October 17, 1517).

The views of Luther were not original. Several theologians before him, even Cardinal Ximenes himself, had protested against the scandalous abuse of indulgences. Nor did Luther dream of rebelling against Mother Church. He did not deny the value of indulgences altogether, but declared that, in his opinion, the Pope could not thereby remit the guilt of sin nor abate the penalties of those who had already passed to their account. Further, he declared that the extravagant views he was combating were the invention of the schoolmen, not of the Church, which had never formally accepted them. He therefore demanded an expression of the mind of the Pope and Church thereon. Luther asked for discussion and for argument; he was met with assertion and denunciation. Tetzel in his answer disdained to discuss the question of indulgences at all, and he asserted the claim of the Pope to determine matters of opinion and to interpret Scripture. The Dominican Prierias declared that neither a Council presided over by the Pope, nor the Pope himself, could err when he gave an official decision, and branded all those as heretics who did not accept the doctrines of the Church and Popes, as the rule of faith. Cardinal Cajetan, who was sent as papal legate to the Diet of Augsburg in 1518, although he secretly agreed with Luther as to the abuse of indulgences, refused all disputation, and demanded a recantation and silence for the future. Luther’s subsequent promise to keep silence on his part, if it were adhered to on the other, could not possibly be kept, and the discussion soon broke out afresh.

Meanwhile, the ground of controversy had shifted. It was no longer a question of indulgences, but of papal power and the authority of tradition. The extravagant assertions of the papal advocates were met by more outspoken, more violent, and sometimes by unseemly language on the part of Luther. Wider reading now convinced him that his views were not novel, but had been anticipated by others, such as John Huss, John Wessel, and even by the humanist Laurentius Valla; while he was strengthened by the increasing support he met with in Germany. Ulrich von Hutten, a man whose love of satire outran his better taste, embittered the controversy by the biting epigrams of his Vadiscus (1519): ‘Three things maintain the dignity of Rome—the authority of the Pope, the relics of the saints, the sale of indulgences. Three things are feared at Rome—a General Council, a reform of the Church, the opening of the eyes of the Germans. Three things are excommunicated at Rome—indigence, the primitive Church, the preaching of truth.’ Finally, Luther, in his Address to the Christian Nobility of the German Nation (July, 1520), still more in his tractate on the Babylonish Captivity (October, 1520), was led on not only to deny the authority of the Pope, but to question the divine institution of the priesthood, and the authority of tradition, and to attack the mediÆval doctrine of Transubstantiation. That Luther had now definitely put himself outside the Church, cannot be gainsaid. Yet at least it should be remembered that he was driven to his final position by the knowledge that he was already condemned, and that the Bull of excommunication had been issued as early as June 1520, although not published in Germany till later. Luther, therefore, throwing all hopes of conciliation to the winds, declared the Bull a forgery and the author of it Antichrist, and on December 10, 1520, burnt it publicly at Wittenberg.

Whether, considering the character of Luther, his earnestness, his bluntness, his fearlessness, his want of scholarly refinement, and his violence, he might have been checked by a more conciliatory attitude on the part of his opponents; or whether, again, had he been conciliated, another leader in the existing ferment of German feeling would not have arisen, may well be questioned. But at least the conduct of the papal court could not have been more indiscreet or less statesmanlike. LeoX. himself, with his cynical indifference to such matters, might very possibly have acted otherwise; but the attack on indulgences threatened the whole machinery of papal finance and administration, and the officials of the Curia drove him on. We cannot but deplore that a Church, which could treat with leniency unorthodoxy on such fundamental questions as the immortality of the soul, should have refused to listen to the criticism of her system of indulgences, especially as we know that the system, in its abuse at any rate, pricked the consciences of so many of her most loyal sons. That the conduct of Luther is open to blame must be allowed. That he too lightly cast away the traditions of the Church, and too confidently believed in the possibility of finding all that was necessary to salvation, and for the organisation of the Church in the Bible alone; that many of his doctrines have been exaggerated and have led to much evil; that the immediate results of the Reformation were neither to promote learning, nor to advance the spirit of toleration—all this cannot be denied. That the revolt which was thus inaugurated was to break the unity of the Church, to lead to endless schism, and verily to bring a sword on earth, we must all regret. But Rome, at least, determined that it should be so; and we may fairly doubt whether the reform of that corruption, which had eaten so deeply into her system, could have been effected at a less costly price.

Such was the position of affairs when the Diet of Worms met. The question was whether the Diet would enforce the Bull and place Luther under the ban of the Empire—a question fraught with momentous issues.Luther and the Diet. LeoX., without allowing Luther to be heard in self-defence, urged Charles to execute the Bull. But though the Emperor himself was in favour of such a course, and was supported by his confessor Glapion, many of his advisers, notably ChiÈvres, and Gattinara, his chancellor, were of a contrary opinion. They knew the support which Luther had already received in Germany from the poorer nobles, the poets, the lawyers, and the men of letters, and what that support was we may learn from the papal agent, Aleander: ‘Nine-tenths of Germany shouts for Luther; and the other one-tenth, if it does not care for Luther, at least cries, Down with the Roman court, and demands a Council to be held in Germany.’ It was not to be expected that the Diet would dare to disregard this popular feeling. Moreover, although the majority were wholly opposed to the doctrinal views held by Luther, many of its members sympathised with his desire for reform in matters of Church government and discipline. The Diet, therefore, demanded that Luther should be heard, declaring at the same time that, if he persisted in his heretical views, contrary to the doctrine and faith ‘which they, their fathers, and fathers’ fathers had held,’ they were ready to condemn him. Besides all this, the advisers of Charles were not blind to the political advantages which might be gained from the situation. Maximilian had once said: ‘Let the Wittenberg monk be taken good care of; we may want him some day,’—and the day had come. Leo was still hesitating between the alliance of Charles and Francis, and the threat of referring the whole question to a General Council might be used to force his hand.

Luther was accordingly summoned to Worms under promise of a safe-conduct. If now he had consented to retract his doctrines on matters of faith, and had confined himself to the question of internal reform, he would probably have received the hearty support of the Diet. But this was far from his intention, and his uncompromising conduct played for the moment into the hands of Rome. He had expected that he would be asked for a defence of his opinions; he was ordered to retract his heresies on points of doctrine. This he declined to do. To the demand that he would acknowledge the Emperor and the Diet as judges of his doctrines, he answered that he would not allow men to judge of God’s word. He even refused to submit to the decisions of a General Council ‘unless his views were refuted by Scripture or by cogent reason.’ Thus he became in the eyes of Charles not only a heretic, but, what was worse, a rebel; and the alliance of the Pope having now been secretly secured, Luther was no longer wanted for political purposes. Charles, therefore, was eager for the publication of the ban and for an order that the books of the heretic should be burnt. So great, however, was the repugnance of the Diet to face the unpopularity of this act that Charles only succeeded in gaining its assent at its last session (May 25), after Frederick of Saxony and the Elector Palatine had left. Luther meanwhile had fled to the Castle of the Wartburg in Saxony, where he lay hid under the protection of Frederick the Wise. He had now been excommunicated, and the excommunication had been ratified by the Diet. The future was to see whether the Emperor could enforce the decision of the Diet in Germany.

§ 4. The War, 1522–1523.

At this moment the attention of Charles was directed to the war against Francis. The humiliation of his rival, and the conquest of Italy, were the first essentials; till these were attained, the affair of Luther might wait. The French had been the first to assume the offensive. Already, in May, they had invaded Navarre, while in the previous March, Robert de la Marck, the Lord of Bouillon, had attacked Luxembourg. These expeditions, however, had both failed, and Charles now secured the alliance, not only of the vacillating Pope, but also of HenryVIII.Leo X. and Henry VIII. ally themselves with Charles V. LeoX. had been gratified at the publication of the ban against Luther. He convinced himself that the victory of the French in Italy would be more disastrous than that of Charles, and on May 25 definitely joined the Emperor. Ferrara and Parma were to be restored to the Pope. Milan was to be held as a fief of the Empire by Francesco Sforza, son of Ludovico il Moro; the French were to be driven from Genoa, and Antonio Adorno set up as Doge; the Emperor promised to protect the Medici in Florence, and to join the Pope in extirpating the heresy of Luther.

In November, Wolsey, after in vain attempting to continue his policy of mediation at the Conference of Calais, was forced at last to declare himself. He joined the league of Emperor and Pope, and promised to aid Charles in a joint invasion of France: the Emperor, on his part, engaged to marry the Princess Mary.

The English did not move; but in Italy the imperial and papal troops were successful.Success of imperial and papal troops in Italy. Lautrec, the French commander, deserted by the Swiss, who had been forbidden by the authorities at home to fight against their countrymen, was forced to evacuate Milan, with the exception of the citadel (November 19), and Parma and Piacenza soon surrendered.At this moment, when fortune seemed to smile on LeoX., he was struck down by fever (December 1). The character of his pontificate is such as we should expect from the son of Lorenzo the Magnificent.Death of Leo X. Dec. 1, 1521. His name will always be associated with the artistic triumphs of Raphael, and remembered for his patronage of literature; but this is his only claim to honour. His character is well illustrated by his saying at his election, ‘Let us enjoy the Papacy now we have got it.’ Though not profligate himself, he condoned profligacy in others, and at no time was luxury more profuse, or life in Rome more careless. He lived for pleasure; in the spiritual duties of his office he took but little interest. The serious problems of the time he showed himself incapable of realising. If his careless generosity brought him popularity, it seriously encumbered the papal finances; and if, when he died, the sky seemed fair, this was but the clearness which oft precedes the storm—a storm which was largely due to his want of seriousness, of insight, and of statesmanship.

To the surprise of all, the man chosen to succeed him was Adrian of Utrecht, once the tutor of Charles, and subsequently his Viceroy in Spain.Election of Adrian VI. Jan. 1522. His election was due to the impossibility of finding any one else who could obtain sufficient suffrages in the electoral college. Wolsey, who was a serious candidate, only secured seven. Giulio de’ Medici and Alexander Farnese, both eventually destined to wear the tiara, as ClementVII. and PaulIII., were equally unsuccessful. A long vacancy was considered dangerous; and Cardinal de’ Medici, who, in spite of the warm support of the Emperor, despaired of his own success, transferred his votes to Adrian. Thus two Flemings, hitherto closely associated, now held the two highest dignities in Christendom, and much might have been expected from such a remarkable event. These expectations, however, were not to be realised. The new Pope, indeed, presented a striking contrast to his predecessor; but this very contrast served but to increase his difficulties. The Romans were annoyed at the election of ‘a barbarian.’ Their fears that Adrian might transfer the seat of the Papacy to Spain, expressed itself in the satirical advertisement, ‘Roma est locanda,’ posted on the walls of the Vatican. The Cardinals, who at first went in fear of their lives from the Roman populace, soon regretted their decision, and hated this austere reforming Pope, who tried to cut down their salaries and pensions, while he showed favour to his Flemish followers. The literary men were disgusted at his lack of sympathy with the new learning. Even his uprightness and holiness of life failed to make him friends among those who desired reform. His economies were attributed to parsimony; his retiring habits and his want of real initiative and of character lost him that support which otherwise might have been accorded to him. Nor was his attitude towards Luther, or to the political issues of the day, more fortunate. Fully convinced of the necessity of internal reform of abuses, he was none the less devoid of sympathy with the new theology. As inquisitor in Spain, he had adopted Spanish views, and thought that repression must precede reform; when the heretic had been disposed of, the Pope could begin to set his house in order.

On this point the Emperor agreed with him, but here agreement ceased. Adrian had served him well as tutor, and then as his viceroy in Spain;Causes of disagreement with Charles. and now that his servant sat on the papal throne, he looked for a continuance of that service. He forgot that there was all the difference between Adrian, the viceroy of the King of Spain, and Adrian the Pope. Nor were their views the same. Charles was determined to be master in Italy; for that, not only the Lutheran question, but even the war against the Turk must wait, threatening though the attitude of Solyman was at this moment. Adrian, on the contrary, was not anxious to see the Emperor too powerful in Italy, and yearned to free the Papacy from the political trammels in which late Popes had involved it. To bring about a reconciliation between the two rivals, and then rally all Christendom in a crusade against the Turk, this was Adrian’s dream. For this purpose he assumed a position of neutrality and attempted the work of mediation. The results of this policy were most unfortunate. The French party in Italy raised their heads; the Duke of Ferrara began to move (February, 1522); the opponents of the Medici in Florence and Siena renewed their intrigues with Francis; the Swiss again took service under France, and sent a contingent into Italy, which was supplemented by Venice. So serious did things look, that Don Manuel, writing from Rome, advised a truce with Francis.

At this moment, however, the victory of Bicocca retrieved the fortunes of Charles. In March, Lautrec had advanced against Milan, then held by Colonna for the Emperor.Battle of Bicocca. April 27, 1522. Sforza at once marched from Pavia to relieve Colonna, and, after some manoeuvring, entrenched himself in the Villa Bicocca, some few miles from the city. The position was a strong one. But the Swiss showed insubordination, and insisted on an attack, which Lautrec dared not refuse. The Swiss had miscalculated their powers, and were repulsed. Lautrec, who had made a detour with his French soldiers, with the object of taking the position in the rear, from whence alone an entrance seemed practicable, was delayed, and had to face the united force of the enemy, flushed as they were with victory over the Swiss. He was beaten back with serious loss, and the imperial forces remained masters of the first important battle of the war. The defeat ruined the French cause. They still held the citadel of Milan, and the town of Novara, but had to evacuate the rest of the Milanese, and shortly after (May 30), they were driven from Genoa.French evacuate the Milanese. The Doge, Ottavio Fregoso, the leader of the French party, was taken prisoner, as well as Pedro Navarra, the great Spanish general, who had been driven into the service of France by the niggardliness of Ferdinand. Antonio Adorno was set up as Doge, as a vassal of Charles—and France thus lost the important harbour which hitherto had given her an easy entrance into Italy. The victory of Charles only served to increase Adrian’s desire for peace, but neither of the rivals would listen.Treaty of Windsor. June, 1522. In June, 1522, Charles, then on his way to Spain, signed the treaty of Windsor. Henry and the Emperor agreed that the humiliation of Francis was the necessary preliminary to a war against the Turk. They accordingly promised to engage in a joint attack on France, and to solicit the alliance of the Pope and Venice. Even the fall of Rhodes, the important outpost against the Moslem, held by the knights of St. John in the Mediterranean (December 20), although it caused great dismay in Europe and bitter grief to Adrian, did not cause the two great powers to forego their quarrels;The League of August 1523. Death of Adrian, Sept. 14, 1523. and finally in August, Adrian, warned by the intrigues of the French partisans in Italy that any idea of mediation was vain, and that if the French were victorious the Papal States would be in danger, joined in a defensive league with the Emperor, a league which included England, Milan, Genoa, Florence, and Venice. Six weeks afterwards, Adrian died (September 14, 1523).

In spite of his narrowness and want of statesmanship, Adrian was a good man, and earnestly desired reform. Yet the desire only earned him the inveterate hatred of the Cardinals, and of the mob of Rome, who decorated the door of his physician with a wreath, dedicated ‘to the liberator of his country.’ The pathetic failure of Pope Adrian is perhaps the best vindication of Luther’s revolt.

§ 5. Luther and the Council of Regency.

The absence of Charles in Spain, where he remained for seven momentous years (July 1522 to August 1529), indicates most forcibly where his real interests lay. Cruelly as he treated all those who had taken part in the revolt of the Communeros, he had, since the death of ChiÈvres in 1521, become a thorough Spaniard in sympathy. In that year, he finally ceded to Ferdinand the Austrian lands of his House, and henceforth looked on Spain as the real centre of his Empire.Charles in Spain for seven years, 1522–1529. The pride of the Spaniards, their determination to crush out heresy,—above all, their passion to dominate the world, he fully shared; and it was on Spanish troops and Spanish money that he mainly depended in his wars. He passed the largest part of his life in Spain. He retired thither, and there he died.

In this fact then, and in his imperial position, lies the best answer to Napoleon’s taunt that Charles was a fool not to have adopted Protestantism and founded a strong monarchy on that basis.Answer to the taunt of Napoleon. Whether such a policy on Charles’ part would have succeeded, may well be doubted. He would have found arrayed against him the majority of the Electors and Princes, who, whatever their religious views, dreaded above all things a strong monarchical rule; and our doubt will be intensified if we remember the future policy of the Catholic League during the Thirty Years’ War. But, however that may be, Napoleon did not appreciate Charles’ character. As well might a leopard be bidden change its spots, as Charles be asked to lead a national German movement against all that Emperors, and Kings of Spain held dear.

To grasp the possible alternatives we have only to recall the political condition of Germany,The possible alternatives for Germany. already described at pages 106 ff. We there noticed four forces struggling for the mastery:—

On the question which of these should finally gain the mastery, to a great extent depended the fate of the Reformation in Germany. The triumph of the first would, there can be little doubt, have led to the extirpation of heresy, and the establishment of autocratical rule, both ecclesiastical and civil. Could the second succeed, there was some hope of a Protestant reformed Church, based upon a reformed Empire, and a revived spirit of German nationality against Pope as well as Emperor. The third, if not suppressed, or guided, would surely lead to an outburst of religious fanaticism, and to religious as well as political chaos. The last, which as we shall see was eventually to prevail, established Protestantism on the principle of ‘cujus regio, ejus religio,’—that is, of territorial independence in Church as well as State.44The departure of Charles for Spain gave some hope that a reform of the Church might go hand in hand with a reform of the Empire.The Council of Regency during Charles’ absence. In his absence, power fell into the hands of the Council of Regency under the presidency of Ferdinand, whom Charles had nominated his Stadtholder. The Council included among its numbers some, who desired to extend the political reforms already begun, and who were also not unfavourable to Luther;Diet of Nuremberg, Nov. 1522. while the orthodox party, although still in the majority, were too much alarmed at the growing popularity of Lutheran opinion to assume a decided attitude. In spite, therefore, of the exhortation of Adrian that they would enforce the Edict of Worms, the Council decided, after a stormy debate, to refer the matter to the Diet, which met for its second session at Nuremberg on November 17. In the Diet, the struggle began again with like results. The orthodox party still found themselves in the majority, but, with the exception of Joachim, Elector of Brandenburg, the Archbishop of TrÈves, and George, Duke of Saxony, were unwilling to proceed to active measures. The delegates from the imperial cities all supported Luther. Nuremberg, where the Diet sat, was hotly in his favour, and many of the lay Princes feared to oppose the sentiments of their subjects. Accordingly, after much debate and reference to committees, the Diet answered the Pope as follows: They regretted the confusion caused by the Lutheran movement, but had refrained from enforcing the edict for fear of civil war. The Pope himself had admitted the existence of evils in the Church, and these must be amended. They therefore asked that a free Christian Council—in which laymen as well as ecclesiastics should be represented—should be summoned in Germany to discuss grievances. Meanwhile, no further Lutheran books should be printed, or sermons allowed, which might stir the people to revolt.

At the same time the lay estates presented their hundred ‘Gravamina,’ enumerating the chief papal abuses from which Germany had suffered.The hundred Gravamina. It is not correct to say, as has been said, that the Diet had declared for Luther, for he had been condemned to silence, and the Diet had no intention of breaking from Rome; but the enforcement of the Edict was delayed, and delay was all that his cause needed. His adherents were increasing apace: as Ferdinand said, ‘There is not one man in a thousand who is not more or less infected by Lutheran heresy,’ and this explains the unwillingness of the Diet to proceed against him. Indeed, had the Diet, and more especially the Council of Regency, truly represented public opinion, the Reformation might have been established on national lines. This was prevented by the constitution of the Diet. Moreover, the respect of Germany for the Council had been lost by its failure to put down the ‘Knights’ War.’

Franz von Sickingen, the famous Imperial Knight who had taken so prominent a part in the election of Charles, had adopted the opinions of Luther under the guidance of Ulrich von Hutten,The Council of Regency and the ‘Knights’ War.’ Sept. 1522. that strange literary free-lance on the Reformer’s side. True to the traditions of his order, Sickingen hated the Electors, the Princes, and the cities. He accordingly had organised a League of the Knights of the Upper Rhine and neighbouring districts. The League demanded the restoration of the old liberties of the Empire, the abolition of trade monopolies, the abrogation of foreign law, the diminution of the number of clergy and of monks, the cessation of the drain of money through indulgences and other papal exactions. Seeing his opportunity in the weakness of the Council, Sickingen determined to attack the dominions of the Elector of TrÈves, relying for support upon a Lutheran party which had been formed there. If he could win the country, he would at once establish the Reformed opinions, and gain for himself a splendid territory. In September, 1522, he accordingly laid siege to the city of TrÈves. In vain the Council ordered him to desist. The city, however, held out. Meanwhile the Princes became alarmed; they feared that their turn might come next, and took the matter into their own hands. Despite the commands of the Council to keep the peace, they rose, and, led by Philip, Landgrave of Hesse, defeated Sickingen, who shortly after died in the defence of his Castle of Ebernburg, April 1523. Hutten fled to Switzerland, to perish miserably shortly after. The Council also attempted, though in vain, to prevent the Suabian League from taking upon itself the duty of suppressing those Knights within its jurisdiction who had joined Sickingen.

Failing thus to secure obedience or maintain order, the Council forfeited all support. Some opposed it for what it failed to do, others for fear of what it might become. It had never represented popular opinion, and now became disliked by the Diet itself.Failure of the Council of Regency. The cities had always objected to it on account of the taxation it necessitated. Most of the Princes were behindhand with their dues, and feared that the Council might proceed against them. Even the Electors despaired of their projected reforms. It was accordingly soon deserted by its most prominent members. The Elector Palatine, who had been appointed vice-president, left it; and the Elector of TrÈves, George of Saxony, and Philip of Hesse, declared against it. Finally, the Diet of Nuremberg, at its third session (March-April, 1524), decided that its members should be re-elected, and that none of the present members should be re-eligible. The new Council was no more successful, and though it lasted till 1531, it enjoyed little authority. The spirit of independence and territorialism was too strong, and all hope that the Reformation might go hand-in-hand with a national movement based on a constitutional reform of the Empire was at an end.

But this was not the only question that came before this Diet. AdrianVI. had died on September 14, 1523. The new Pope, the Cardinal Giulio de’ Medici, who took the name of ClementVII. (elected November 1523),Clement VII. and the Diet of Nuremberg. March–April 1524. had sent Campeggio, his legate, to demand prompt execution of the Edict of Worms. The adherents of Rome, although still in a majority, did not feel strong enough to comply fully with the Pope’s command. They promised indeed that the Edict should be enforced as far as possible, and that heretical books should be suppressed; but, ‘lest the good should be rooted up with the bad,’ they again insisted on the summoning of a General Council in Germany, and meanwhile suggested that another Diet should be summoned at Spires to settle religious matters. Clement was not unnaturally displeased, and was in the main supported by Charles, who, in July, issued a decree enjoining strict obedience to the Edict of Worms. The Emperor denounced Luther in the strongest terms, forbade the meeting of the Diet at Spires, and declared that, although he was not entirely opposed to the summoning of a General Council, this was a matter for him and the Pope to decide, since it would be presumptuous for Germany to undertake the alteration of Christian ordinances by herself. At the same time he wrote to Clement, saying that only two alternatives were before them: either that he (Charles) should go to Germany and suppress the heretics by force, a course which would be not only dangerous but impossible; or that a General Council should be called. The Council he suggested might be summoned to Trent, and then removed to Rome. This course, however, Clement was unwilling to adopt,The Catholic Congress of Ratisbon. June, 1524. and Campeggio, by his orders, had already begun to treat with the Princes least favourable to Luther, who met in Congress at Ratisbon in June, 1524. After deciding to inaugurate a reform of some of the worst abuses of Christian discipline, and of the system of indulgences, they prohibited the reading of Luther’s books, and forbade students to attend the heretical university of Wittenberg.

This Congress at Ratisbon marks a further stage in the controversy. Hitherto the question of Luther had been treated as one of national interest. Here we meet with the first attempt to organise a party of opposition; the Lutherans were forced to follow suit; and Germany began to fall into two hostile camps, so that all hope of settling the religious question, without destroying the unity of the Empire, was wrecked. It was however something that the reform of abuses had been definitely mooted, and had Pope and Emperor been at one, something might have come of it; but this was prevented by the political issues which once more drove them apart, and so monopolised Charles’ attention that, as he said, ‘This was no time to speak of Luther.’

§ 6. The Victory of Pavia.

Charles had hoped much from the election of ClementVII. But he forgot that he had to deal with a Medici.Charles disappointed in his hopes of support from Clement VII. The aim of Clement was to further the interests of the Papal States, and of his House in Florence, whither he had sent as governor Alessandro, the young son of his cousin Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino, under the tutelage of the Cardinal of Cortona. To attain these ends he, like Leo.X., hoped to balance the powers of Francis and Charles. Although he pretended that he was anxious for peace, he really feared the outcome of a common understanding between the rivals.Yet is at first successful in Italy, 1524. Meanwhile he played a waiting game; and anxious to find himself on the winning side, pursued a timid faithless policy of intrigue which deceived no one, and was to bring the Papacy to the depths of humiliation.

Fortune at first favoured Charles. In 1523, the Duke of Bourbon, the most powerful vassal of the French Crown,45 High Chamberlain and Constable of France, had quarrelled with his King and joined the cause of the Emperor. He was now made generalissimo of the Italian army. In May, the French, beaten in several battles, in one of which the Chevalier Bayard found the death which alone he thought worthy of a knight, had been forced to evacuate Lombardy.

The success of Charles led Henry to renew his alliance, much to the dismay of Wolsey,Henry VIII. renews his alliance with Charles. who wished to keep the hand of England free, and to prevent either rival from gaining too great preponderance. The King of England promised once more to invade France, and to supply Charles with the money he so sorely needed; while Bourbon was to do homage to the English King, as King of France.

In July, Bourbon crossed the Alps, invaded Provence and attacked Marseilles—an important harbour, the basis of the operations of the French fleetBourbon’s unsuccessful attack on Marseilles. July, 1524. in the Mediterranean—whence he threatened the com­mu­ni­ca­tions of the Emperor between Spain and Italy. Contrary to expectation, Marseilles held out. The Marquis of Pescara, who was next in command, advised Bourbon not to attempt to storm it; while his soldiers, short of pay and food, refused.

Meanwhile, Wolsey was averse to an English attack on Picardy; Charles was unable to co-operate from Spain; and on the approach of Francis with his army, Bourbon was forced to beat a hasty retreat across the Alps with the loss of most of his artillery.Francis crosses the Alps and enters Milan. Oct. 29, 1524. Francis pressed close at his heels, and, crossing the Alps by the valley of the Durance, reached Pignerol on October 17, 1524. Milan at the moment was ravaged by the plague, and could scarcely be held. The Imperialists, therefore, after despatching a force of some 6000 men, under Antonio de Leyva, to hold Pavia, threw some troops into its citadel, and retreated under Lannoy and Pescara to Lodi, while Bourbon hastened to Germany to collect fresh forces.

On the 29th of October, the French entered Milan by one gate, as the last of the Imperialists left it by the other. Had Francis pursued his advantage, he might have annihilated his enemy; but in a fatal moment, Admiral Bonnivet, the French commander, persuaded him to attack Pavia, and Pescara had time to recruit his exhausted troops. ‘We are beaten,’ said Pescara, ‘but we shall soon be victors.’ Yet, as in 1521, so now, Charles seemed likely again to lose the Milanese. Clement, fearing the vengeance of the French, first tried mediation.Clement VII. breaks with Charles. He suggested that Charles should cede Milan to Francis, and content himself with Naples. When Lannoy, Charles’ viceroy in Naples, refused to entertain so humiliating a proposal, the Pope offered his alliance to the French, and attempted to win over Venice. This conduct he attempted to justify on the plea of necessity. He declared to the Emperor that he earnestly desired peace, and called God to witness to the honesty of his motives. Charles, however, was not deceived, and vowed ‘he would revenge himself on this poltroon of a Pope, and that perhaps some day Martin Luther might become a man of worth.’

The position of the Emperor indeed seemed desperate. The alliance with England he could not depend upon. In Germany the peasants’ revolt had already begun.The fortunes of Charles retrieved by the victory of Pavia. Feb. 24, 1525. He himself was sick with fever in Spain: above all, he knew not where to turn for money with which to pay the troops he had on foot. Even Lannoy warned him that he was likely to lose a crown in the attempt to save a dukedom. Two months later, the victory of Pavia reversed all this, and placed Charles in a position of which he could scarcely have dreamed. In January, 1525, Bourbon returned from Germany with so many troops, that the army of the Imperialists nearly equalled that of the French, except in artillery and men-at-arms. But he had no money to pay his men. Here Pescara came to his aid. He succeeded in persuading the soldiers to await their pay till February 10, by which day Pavia was to be relieved; and the advance was at once commanded. The city was still held by Antonio de Leyva; but the position of the French army, which beleaguered it, was so strong that Lannoy hesitated to attack. All attempts, however, to force Francis to raise the siege by a diversion failed, and the garrison were in such distress that they must soon have capitulated. Accordingly, after three weeks’ delay, it was determined to hazard the chance of an engagement. On the night of February 23, a breach was made in the walls of the park of Mirabello, which stretched to the north of the French entrenchments, and on the following morning the attack was ordered. Francis, misled by Bonnivet, now rashly left his strong entrenchments, and determined to accept the offer of battle. The open ground at first favoured his artillery, and the movements of the men-at-arms. The Imperialists wavered in the first assault, and the King, assured of victory, cried, ‘To-day I will call myself Duke of Milan.’ But Pescara reformed his Spanish infantry; the German landsknechts under Frundsberg supported them, and the French men-at-arms were driven back. In the shock of infantry which followed, the Swiss in the pay of France were the first to give way, and the Italian troops gave but poor support. The landsknechts in the French army for a while stood firm, till a sortie of Leyva from the beleaguered city took them in the rear, and the French army broke. Francis, as he attempted to restore the battle, had his horse shot under him, and was taken prisoner. He would have fallen in the general slaughter, had he not been recognised by one of Bourbon’s men. The losses of the French were heavy, for no quarter had been given. Bonnivet, the French commander, La Palice and La TrÉmouille, who had both grown old in the Italian wars, Francis of Lorraine, and many others of note were slain; and Henri d’Albret of Navarre was among the prisoners.

The battle, fought on Charles’ five-and-twentieth birthday, seemed to realise the wildest dreams of Maximilian. Never since the days of Charles the Great had the idea of an Empire of the West been so nearly realised. Not only Italy, but France seemed to be at Charles’ mercy, and, if France had fallen under his rule, Europe could scarce have escaped bondage. But the victory was too complete. Europe, alarmed for its safety, drew together in self-defence, and the hopelessness of Maximilian’s dream was soon to be demonstrated.

§ 7. The Peasants’ War.

While these momentous issues were being decided in Italy, Germany had been the scene of a serious outbreak which threatened the whole structure of society.Causes of the Peasants’ War. The causes of the Peasants’ Revolt were primarily social. Even before the appearance of Luther, we hear of the ‘Bundschuhe’ and other organisations of the peasants, and of revolts against their lords. Their grievances were those common to the villein class in all feudal societies; heavy services and dues, oppressive sporting rights, and enclosure of common lands by their lords. From the first, indeed, the higher clergy were specially marked out for attack. The bishop and the abbot united in their own persons the position of spiritual superior and feudal lord. As feudal lords, they levied dues, exacted services, and tried offenders in their courts. As ecclesiastical superiors, they claimed the tithes, punished ecclesiastical offences in their ecclesiastical courts, and threatened excommunication on the impenitent or recalcitrant. Moreover, the heavy contributions demanded of them by Rome, forced them to exact their dues to the full. Yet, at first, there was no connection between these social grievances and the religious discontent. It was, however, inevitable that in time they should become identified. The more fanatical teachers of the new doctrines, such as Carlstadt, were attracted to the movement. They appealed to Scripture as justifying the revolt, and taught the peasants to interpret the spiritual injunctions of the Gospel literally, and to fight for religious and political freedom and for social equality under the same banner. Thus in Germany, as elsewhere, the religious motive came to the front, gave expression to misery as yet inarticulate, and furnished the malcontents with a gospel.The eastern districts of the Black Forest, between the watersheds of the Rhine and Danube, were the first to rise in May 1524.The Revolt in the Black Forest. May, 1524. Their views were comparatively moderate, and were subsequently formulated in ‘The Twelve Articles.’ In this document, after an appeal to Scripture in justification of their demands, they claimed the right of electing their own ministers, and asked for the abolition of the lesser tithe, for liberty of chase, fishing, and hewing wood, the commutation of personal serfdom, the reduction of villein services and dues, the restoration of communal rights. The revolt was even here accompanied by some violence, but if it had been met by a spirit of conciliation on the part of the lords, and of firmness on the part of the government, it probably could have been arrested. The nobles, however, clung to their privileges; the Council was incapable, and Ferdinand was concentrating his energies on supplying troops and money for the Italian campaign.

The disturbances accordingly increased rapidly during the autumn of 1524; and by February, 1525,Spread of the Revolt. they had spread to the whole of Germany, from the left bank of the Rhine to the Tyrol, and from the lake of Constance to Thuringia and Saxony. The claims of the peasants became more extreme, the more moderate lost control, and the fanatics or the designing assumed the lead.

In Franconia, amidst violent excesses, we find the demands for social reform connected with a scheme of political reconstitution of the EmpireThe rebels of Franconia and Thuringia. on a democratic basis—a scheme which betrays the hand of a more educated mind. But it was in Thuringia and the district round the Harz mountains that the extravagance reached its climax. The leader, Thomas MÜnzer, taught doctrines which were subversive of all authority in Church and State, and of the existing conditions of society. Received at MÜlhausen in Thuringia as a prophet, he proposed to make that town the seat of his authority, whence he should rule his kingdom according to revelation.For a moment the social fabric of Germany was imperilled. On all sides the peasants triumphed. The nobles were either driven from their strongholdsSocial Anarchy threatened. or forced to join the leagues as ‘brothers.’ The smaller towns, many of which suffered from the same oppressions as the peasants—even some of the lesser imperial cities—joined the movement. Ulrich of WÜrtemberg seized the opportunity to attempt a recovery of the dominions which he had forfeited by misrule (cf. p. 131), and called the rebels to his aid.

Germany was indeed threatened with anarchy; yet it is doubtful whether the peasants had any chance of permanent success.Causes of failure of the Revolt. The leaders were for the most part visionary and ignorant fanatics. MÜnzer was neither a prophet, nor a general, and the rebels had no effective organisation. Moreover, the middle classes, led by Luther, declared against them. Luther at first had preached moderation and reconciliation. While condemning the revolts against authority as contrary to divine law, he had rebuked the Princes and the lords for their oppression, and urged them to redress the grievances of their villeins. The extravagance of the peasants, however, shortly disgusted and frightened him. He disliked their views, and feared lest his own position and work might be compromised. He pointed out that the spiritual principles of Christianity might not without peril be transferred to the sphere of society and politics; and that, if the gospel demands the freedom of the soul, it does not thereby emancipate the body from the control of law. He denounced the rebels with his usual violence of language, and bade the authorities cast away all scruple, and ‘stab and kill and strangle’ without mercy.

At this moment the news of the victory of Pavia strengthened the cause of order. The Suabian League took up arms against Duke Ulrich. The Swiss, who had at first shown some sympathy with the peasants, and had supported the Duke, now withdrew their contingent, partly on account of disturbances at home, partly from fear of Charles’ vengeance, and Ulrich was forced to beat a hasty retreat.The defeat of Leipheim. April 4. On April 4, the army of the League inflicted a decisive defeat on the peasants at Leipheim, near Ulm. On the 15th of May, the Princes, once more led by Philip of Hesse, crushed the army of MÜnzer near Frankenhausen. MÜnzer was taken prisoner and was executed at MÜlhausen. The Duke of Lorraine took Zabern in Alsace, and restored order in the Vosges. The reduction of the city of Wurzburg by the united forces of the Suabian League, of the Elector of TrÈves, and of the Elector Palatine on June 7, decided the fortunes of Franconia; and shortly after, the peasants of the Upper Rhine and the Black Forest either came to terms, or were crushed. The Princes and the nobles, once more masters, rivalled the cruelties of the rebels. Numbers of unfortunate peasants were cut down without mercy, and the grievances of the survivors remained, with a few exceptions, unredressed.