Chapter III: From the Election of Charles to the Battle of Pavia (1)

The Imperial Election--Preparations of Charles and Francis for
war, which is, however, delayed--The Revolt of the Comuneros--The
Diet of Worms--The Council of Regency--The Renaissance and the
Reformation--Erasmus and Luther--The Imperial Ban--War between
Charles and Francis--Their Alliances--Successes of Imperial
Troops--Adrian VI. succeeds Leo X.--His quarrel with
Charles--Battle of Bicocca--Treaty of Windsor--Luther and the
Council of Regency--Diet of Nuremberg--The Knights’ War--Congress
of Ratisbon--Battle of Pavia--The Peasants’ War.

§ 1. _The Imperial Election._

| The three candidates for the Imperial throne.

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. Of these Henry VIII., 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.

Francis I. 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. Leo X., 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 Joachim I. 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.

| German sentiment declares for Charles.

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. 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 Electors finally elect 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. 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.

| The Capitulations.

By the election of Charles, the magnificent dreams of Frederick III. 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 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.

| War inevitable.

That the election of Charles V. would lead to war was almost 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.

| Charles wishes to put off the war.

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. 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.

| Attempt of Wolsey to keep the peace.

The opportunity was eagerly seized by Wolsey. To continue friends with both sides without offending either; to keep both asunder by fostering mutual suspicion; 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 Henry VIII. 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 Henry VIII. 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, Leo X., 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.

| The diplomacy of Wolsey fails to avert the struggle.

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; 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_

| Discontent in Spain.

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, 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.

| The discontent reaches its climax on the accession of
| Charles, especially in Castile.

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. 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 Henry VIII. 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.

| Toledo rises. April 21, 1520.

The city of Toledo had special cause for indignation. The appointment of Chièvres’ nephew as Archbishop had been looked upon as a special insult, 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. Henry VIII. 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.

| Charles’ departure from Spain, May 19, is followed by the
| revolt of Castile.

| The Junta set up Joanna. August, 1520.

| The Junta present their Charter.

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, 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. 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, 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.

| The nobles declare against the rebels.

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, 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.

| Jealousies weaken the rebels’ cause.

| Renewed vigour of the comuneros. March, 1521.

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, 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. 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.

| Failure of the rebellion.

| They are defeated at Villalar. April 23, 1521.

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. 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. 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.

| Causes of failure of the Revolt.

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. 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.

| Subsequent measures of Charles.

Charles did not come to Spain till the year 1522. A few of the rebels were executed, the estates of others were confiscated. 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._

| The Diet of Worms. Jan. 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. After his interview with Henry VIII. 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 settlement of the Imperial Constitution. (2) The war with France. (3) The attitude to be adopted towards Luther.

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 Renaissance and the Reformation.

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. 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.

| Reuchlin and Erasmus.

Among numerous scholars who rose in Germany at the close of the fifteenth century, 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.

| Martin Luther, 1483-1546.

The final breach with Rome was not to come from scholars of world-wide reputation, but from the son of a Thuringian peasant who, 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 μετάνοια--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.