Two striking Lessons—Charles V in Italy—The German Envoys—Their Boldness—The Landgrave’s Present—The Envoys under Arrest—Their Release and Departure—Meeting of Charles and Clement—Gattinara’s Proposition—Clement’s Arms—War imminent—Luther’s Objections—The Savior is coming—Charles’s conciliatory Language—The Emperor’s Motives
The Reformation was accomplished in the name of a spiritual principle. It had proclaimed for its teacher the Word of God; for salvation, Faith; for king, Jesus Christ; for arms, the Holy Ghost; and had by these very means rejected all worldly elements.
Rome had been established by the law of a carnal commandment; the Reformation, by the power of an endless life.
If there is any doctrine that distinguishes Christianity from every other religion, it is its spirituality. A heavenly life brought down to man—such is its work; thus the opposition of the spirit of the Gospel to the spirit of the world, was the great fact which signalised the entrance of Christianity among the nations. But what its Founder had separated, had soon come together again; the Church had fallen into the arms of the world; and by this criminal union it had been reduced to the deplorable condition in which we find it at the era of the Reformation.
Thus one of the greatest tasks of the sixteenth century was to restore the spiritual element to its rights. The Gospel of the reformers had nothing to do with the world and with politics. While the Roman hierarchy had become a matter of diplomacy and a court intrigue, the Reformation was destined to exercise no other influence over princes and people than that which proceeds from the Gospel of peace.
If the Reformation, having attained a certain point, became untrue to its nature, began to parley and temporise with the world, and ceased thus to follow up the spiritual principle that it had so loudly proclaimed, it was faithless to God and to itself.
Henceforward its decline was at hand.
It is impossible for a society to prosper if it be unfaithful to the principles it lays down. Having abandoned what constituted its life, it can find naught but death.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century It was God’s will that this great truth should be inscribed on the very threshold of the temple He was then raising in the world; and a striking contrast was to make this truth stand gloriously prominent. One portion of the reform was to seek the alliance of the world, and in this alliance find a destruction full of desolation. Another portion, looking up to God, was haughtily to reject the arm of the flesh, and by this very act of faith secure a noble victory.
If three centuries have gone astray, it is because they were unable to comprehend so holy and so solemn a lesson. It was in the beginning of September 1529 that Charles V, the victor by battles or by treaties over the pope and the King of France, landed at Genoa. The shouts of the Spaniards had saluted him as he quitted the Iberian peninsula; but the dejected eyes, the bended heads, the silent lips of the Italians given over to his hands, alone welcomed him to the foot of the Apennines.
Everything led to the belief that Charles would indemnify himself on them for the apparent generosity with which he had treated the pope.
They were deceived. Instead of those barbarous chiefs of the Goths and Huns,—
instead of those proud and fierce emperors, who more than once had crossed the Alps and rushed upon Italy, sword in hand and with cries of vengeance, the Italians saw among them a young and graceful prince, with pale features, a delicate frame, and weak voice, of winning manners, having more the air of a courtier than of a warrior, scrupulously performing all the duties of the Romish religion, and leading in his train no terrible cohorts of German barbarians, but a brilliant retinue of Spanish grandees, who condescendingly paraded the pride of their race and the splendour of their nation.
This prince, the victor of Europe, spoke only of peace and amnesty; and even the Duke of Ferrara, who of all the Italian princes had most cause of fear, having at Modena placed the keys of the city in his hands, heard from his friendly lips the most unexpected encouragements.
Whence did this strange conduct proceed? Charles had shown plainly enough, at the time of the captivity of Francis I, that generosity towards his enemies was not his dominant virtue. It was not long before this mystery was explained.
Almost at the same time with Charles there arrived in Italy, by way of Lyons and Genoa, three German burgesses, whose whole equipage consisted of six horses.
These were John Ehinger, burgomaster of Memmingen, who carried his head high, scattered money around him, and who was not remarkable for great sobriety; Michael Caden, syndic of Nuremberg, a worthy, pious, and brave man, but detested by the Count of Nassau, the most influential of Charles’s ministers; and, lastly, Alexis 86
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century Frauentraut, secretary to the Margrave of Brandenburg, who, having married a nun, was in very bad odor among the Roman Catholics . Such were the three men whom the Protestant princes, assembled at Nuremberg, commissioned to bear to the emperor the famous Protest of Spires. They had purposely chosen these deputies from a middle station, under the impression that they would incur less danger. To carry such a message to Charles V was, to say the truth, a task that few persons cared to execute. Accordingly a pension had been secured to the widows of these envoys in case of misfortune.
Charles was on his way from Genoa to Bologna, and staying at Piacenza, when the three Protestant deputies overtook him. These plain Germans presented a singular contrast in the midst of that Spanish pomp and Romish fervour by which the young prince was surrounded. Cardinal Gattinara, the emperor’s chancellor, who sincerely desired a reform of the Church, procured them an audience of Charles V for the 22nd of September; but they were recommended to be sparing in their words, for there was nothing the emperor so much disliked as a Protestant sermon.
The deputies were not checked by these intimations and after handing the protest to Charles, Frauentraut began to speak: “It is to the Supreme Judge that each one of us must render an account,” said he, “and not to creatures who turn at every wind. It is better to fall into the most cruel necessity, than to incur the anger of God.
Our nation will obey no decrees that are based on any other foundation than the Holy Scriptures.”
Such was the proud tone held by these German citizens to the emperor of the west. Charles said not a word—it would have been paying them too much honour; but he charged one of his secretaries to announce an answer at some future time.
There was no hurry to send back these paltry ambassadors. In vain did they renew their solicitations daily. Gattinara treated them with kindness, but Nassau sent them away with bitter words. A workman, the armourer to the court, having to visit Augsburg to purchase arms, begged the Count of Nassau to despatch the Protestant deputies. “You may tell them,” replied the minister of Charles V, “that we will terminate their business in order that you may have travelling companions.” But the armourer having found other company, they were compelled to wait.
These envoys endeavoured at least to make a good use of their time. “Take this book,” said the landgrave to Caden at the very moment of departure, giving him a French work bound in velvet, and richly ornamented, “and deliver it to the emperor,”
It was a summary of the Christian Faith which the landgrave had received from 87
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century Francis Lambert, and which had probably been written by that doctor. Caden sought an opportunity of presenting this treatise; and did so one day, as Charles was going publicly to mass. The emperor took the book, and passed it immediately to a Spanish bishop. The Spaniard began to read it, and lighted upon that passage of Scripture in which Christ enjoins his apostles not to exercise lordship. The author took advantage of it to maintain that the minister, charged with spiritual matters, should not interfere with those which are temporal. The papist prelate bit his lips, and Charles, who perceived it, having asked, “Well, what is the matter?” the bishop in confusion had recourse to a falsehood. “This treatise,” replied he, “takes the sword from the christian magistrate, and grants it only to nations that are strangers to the faith.”
Immediately there was a great uproar: the Spaniards above all were beside themselves. “The wretches that have endeavoured to mislead so young a prince,” said they, “deserve to be hung on the first tree by the wayside!” Charles swore, in fact, that the bearer should suffer the penalty of his audacity.
At length, on the 12th October, Alexander Schweiss, imperial secretary, transmitted the emperor’s reply to the deputies. It said that the minority ought to submit to the decrees passed in diet, and that if the Duke of Saxony and his allies were contumacious, means would not be wanting to compel them.
Upon this Ehinger and Caden read aloud the appeal to the emperor drawn up at Spires, while Frauentraut, who had renounced his quality of deputy and assumed that of a notary, took notes of what was passing. When the reading was finished, the deputies advanced towards Schweiss, and presented the appeal. The imperial secretary rejected the document with amazement; the deputies insisted; Schweiss continued firm. They then laid the appeal on the table. Schweiss was staggered; he took the paper, and carried it to the emperor.
After dinner, just as one of the deputies (Caden) had gone out, a tumult in the hotel announced some catastrophe. It was the imperial secretary who returned duly accompanied. “The emperor is exceedingly irritated against you on account of this appeal,” said he to the Protestants; “and he forbids you, under pain of confiscation and death, to leave your hotel, to write to Germany, or to send any message whatsoever.” Thus Charles put ambassadors under arrest, as he would the officers of his guard, desirous in this manner of showing his contempt, and of frightening the princes.
Caden’s servant slipped in alarm out of the hotel, and ran to his master. The latter, still considering himself free, wrote a hasty account of the whole business to 88
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century the senate of Nuremberg, sent off his letters by express, and returned to share in the arrest of his colleagues.
On the 23rd of October, the emperor left Piacenza, carrying the three Germans with him. But on the 30th he released Ehinger and Frauentraut, who, mounting their horses in the middle of the night, rushed at full speed along a route thronged with soldiers and robbers. “As for you,” said Granvelle to Caden, “you will stay under pain of death. The emperor expects that the book you presented to him will be given to the pope.” Perhaps Charles thought it pleasant to show the Roman pontiff this prohibition issued against the ministers of God to mingle in the government of nations. But Caden, profiting by the confusion of the court, secretly procured a horse, and fled to Ferrara, thence to Venice, from which place he returned to Nuremberg.
The more Charles appeared irritated against Germany, the greater moderation he showed towards the Italians: heavy pecuniary contributions were all that he required. It was beyond the Alps, in the centre of Christendom, by means of these very religious controversies, that he desired to establish his power. He pressed on, and required only two things: behind him,—peace; with him,—money. On the 5th of November he entered Bologna. Everything was striking about him: the crowd of nobles, the splendour of the equipages, the haughtiness of the Spanish troops, the four thousand ducats that were scattered by handfuls among the people; but above all, the majesty and magnificence of the young emperor. The two chiefs of Romish Christendom were about to meet. The pope quitted his palace with all his court; and Charles, at the head of an army which would have conquered the whole of Italy in a few days, affecting the humility of a child, fell on his knees, and kissed the pontiff’s feet.
The emperor and the pope resided at Bologna in two adjoining palaces, separated by a single wall, through which a doorway had been opened, of which each had a key; and the young and politic emperor was often seen visiting the old and crafty pontiff, carrying papers in his hand. Clement obtained Sforza’s forgiveness, who appeared before the emperor sick and leaning on a staff. Venice also was forgiven: a million of crowns arranged these two matters. But Charles could not obtain from the pope the pardon of Florence. That illustrious city was sacrificed to the Medici, “considering,”
it was said, “that it is impossible for Christ’s vicar to demand anything that is unjust.”
The most important affair was the Reformation. Some represented to the emperor that, victor over all his enemies, he should carry matters with a high hand, and constrain the Protestants by force of arms. Charles was more moderate; he 89
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century preferred weakening the Protestants by the Papists, and then the Papists by the Protestants, and by this means raising his power above them both.
A wiser course was nevertheless proposed in a solemn conference. “The Church is torn in pieces,” said Chancellor Gattinara. “You (Charles) are the head of the empire; you (the pope) the head of the Church. It is your duty to provide by common accord against unprecedented wants. Assemble the pious men of all nations, and let a free council deduce from the Word of God a scheme of doctrine such as may be received by every people.”
A thunderbolt falling at Clement’s feet could not have startled him more. The offspring of an illegitimate union, and having obtained the papacy by means far from honourable, and squandered the treasures of the Church in an unjust war, this pontiff had a thousand personal motives for dreading an assembly of Christendom. “Large congregations,” replied he, “serve only to introduce popular opinions. It is not by the decrees of councils, but with the edge of the sword, that we should decide controversies.”
As Gattinara still persisted: “What!” said the pope, angrily interrupting him,
“you dare contradict me, and excite your master against me!” Charles rose up; all the assembly preserved profound silence, and the prince resuming his seat, seconded his chancellor’s request. Clement was content to say that he would reflect upon it. He then began to work upon the young emperor in their private conferences, and Charles promised at last to constrain the heretics by violence, while the pope should summon all other princes to his aid. “To overcome Germany by force, and then erase it from the surface of the earth, is the sole object of the Italians,” they wrote from Venice to the elector.
Such was the sinister news which, by spreading alarm among the Protestants, should also have united them. Unfortunately a contrary movement was then taking place. Luther and some of his friends had revised the Marburg articles in a sense exclusively Lutheran, and the ministers of the Elector of Saxony had presented them to the conference at Schwabach. The reformed deputies from Ulm and Strasburg had immediately withdrawn, and the conference was broken up.
But new conferences had erelong become necessary. The express that Caden had forwarded from Piacenza had reached Nuremberg. Everyone in Germany understood that the arrest of the princes’ deputies was a declaration of war. The elector was staggered, and ordered his chancellor to consult the theologians of Wittenberg.
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“We cannot on our conscience,” replied Luther on the 18th November, “approve of the proposed alliance. We would rather die ten times than see our Gospel cause one drop of blood to be shed. Our part is to be like lambs of the slaughter. The cross of Christ must be borne. Let your highness be without fear. We shall do more by our prayers than all our enemies by their boastings. Only let not your hands be stained with the blood of your brethren! If the emperor requires us to be given up to his tribunals, we are ready to appear. You cannot defend our faith: each one should believe at his own risk and peril.”
On the 29th November an evangelical congress was opened at Smalkald, and an unexpected event rendered this meeting still more important. Ehinger, Caden, and Frauentraut, who had escaped from the grasp of Charles V, appeared before them.
The landgrave had no further doubts of the success of his plan.
He was deceived. No agreement between contrary doctrines, no alliance between politics and religion—were Luther’s two principles, and they still prevailed. It was agreed that those who felt disposed to sign the articles of Schwabach, and those only, should meet at Nuremberg on the 6th of January.
The horizon became hourly more threatening. The papists of Germany wrote one to another these few but significant words: “The Saviour is coming.” “Alas” exclaimed Luther, “what a pitiless saviour! He will devour them all, as well as us.” In effect, two Italian bishops, authorised by Charles V, demanded in the pope’s name all the gold and silver from the churches, and a third part of the ecclesiastical revenues: a proceeding which caused an immense sensation. “Let the pope go to the devil,” replied a canon of Paderborn, a little too freely.
“Yes, yes!” archly replied Luther, “this is your saviour that is coming!” The people already began to talk of frightful omens. It was not only the living who were agitated: a child still in its mother’s womb had uttered horrible shrieks. “All is accomplished,”
said Luther; “the Turk has reached the highest degree of his power, the glory of the papacy is declining, and the world is splitting on every side.” The reformer, dreading lest the end of the world should arrive before he had translated all the Bible, published the prophecies of Daniel separately,—“a work,” said he, “for these latter times.” “Historians tell us,” he added, “that Alexander the Great always placed Homer under his pillow: the prophet Daniel is worthy not only that kings and princes should lay him under their heads, but carry him in their hearts; for he will teach them that the government of nations proceeds from the power of God. We are balanced in the hand of the Lord, as a ship upon the sea, or a cloud in the sky.”
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century Yet the frightful phantom that Philip of Hesse had not ceased to point out to his allies, and whose threatening jaws seemed already opening, suddenly vanished, and they discovered in its place the graceful image of the most amiable of princes.
On the 21st January, Charles had summoned all the states of the empire to Augsburg, and had endeavoured to employ the most conciliatory language. “Let us put an end to all discord,” he said, “let us renounce our antipathies, let us offer to our Saviour the sacrifice of all our errors, let us make it our business to comprehend and weigh with meekness the opinions of others. Let us annihilate all that has been said or done on both sides contrary to right, and let us seek after christian truth. Let us all fight under one and the same leader, Jesus Christ, and let us strive thus to meet in one communion, one church, and one unity.”
What language! How was it that this prince, who hitherto had spoken only of the sword, should now speak only of peace? Some may say that the wise Gattinara had a share in it; that the act of convocation was drawn up under the impression of the terror caused by the Turkish invasion; that the emperor already saw with how little eagerness the Roman Catholics of Germany seconded his views; that he wished to intimidate the pope; that this language, so full of graciousness, was but a mask which Charles employed to deceive his enemies; that he wished to manage religion in true imperial fashion, like Theodosius and Constantine, and seek first to unite both parties by the influence of his wisdom and of his favours, reserving to himself, if kindness should fail, to employ force afterwards. It is possible that each of these motives may have exercised a certain influence on Charles, but the latter appears to us nearer the truth, and more conformable to the character of this prince.
If Charles, however, showed any inclination to mildness, the fanatical Ferdinand was at hand to bring him back. “I will continue negotiating without coming to any conclusion,” wrote he to his brother; “and should I even be reduced to that, do not fear; pretexts will not be wanting to chastise these rebels, and you will find men enough who will be happy to aid you in your revenge.”
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century CHAPTER 2
The Coronation—The Emperor made a Deacon—The Romish Church and the State—Alarm of the Protestants—Luther advocates Passive Resistance—Bruck’s noble Advice—Articles of Faith prepared—Luther’s Strong Tower—Luther at Coburg—Charles at Innspruck—Two Parties at Court—Gattinara—The King of Denmark won over by Charles—Piety of the Elector—Wiles of the Romanists Charles, like Charlemagne in former times, and Napoleon in later days, desired to be crowned by the pope, and had at first thought of visiting Rome for that purpose; but Ferdinand’s pressing letters compelled him to choose Bologna. He appointed the 22nd February for receiving the iron crown as king of Lombardy, and resolved to assume the golden crown, as emperor of the Romans, on the 24th of the same month—
his birthday and the anniversary of the battle of Pavia, and which he thought was always fortunate to him.
The offices of honour that belonged to the electors of the empire were given to strangers; in the coronation of the Emperor of Germany all was Spanish or Italian.
The sceptre was carried by the Marquis of Montferrat, the sword by the Duke of Urbino, and the golden crown by the Duke of Savoy. One single German prince of little importance, the Count-palatine Philip, was present: he carried the orb. After these lords came the emperor himself between two cardinals; then the members of his council. All this procession defiled across a magnificent temporary bridge erected between the palace and the church. At the very moment the emperor drew near the church of San Petronio, where the coronation was to take place, the scaffolding cracked behind him and gave way: many of his train were wounded, and the multitude fled in alarm. Charles calmly turned back and smiled, not doubting that his lucky star had saved him.
At length Charles V arrived in front of the throne on which Clement was seated.
But before being made emperor, it was necessary that he should be promoted to the sacred orders. The pope presented him with the surplice and the amice to make him a canon of St. Peter’s and of St. John Lateranus, and the canons of these two churches immediately stripped him of his royal ornaments, and robed him with the sacerdotal garments. The pope went to the altar and began mass, the new canon drawing near to wait upon him. After the offertory, the imperial deacon presented the water to the pontiff; and then kneeling down between two cardinals, he communicated from the pope’s hand. The emperor new returned to his throne, where the princes robed him with the imperial mantle brought from Constantinople, all sparkling with diamonds, and Charles humbly bent the knee before Clement VII.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century The pontiff, having anointed him with oil and given him the sceptre, presented him with a naked sword, saying: “Make use of it in defense of the Church against the enemies of the faith!” Next taking the golden orb, studded with jewels, which the count-palatine held, he said: “Govern the world with piety and firmness!” Last came the Duke of Savoy, who carried the golden crown enriched with diamonds. The prince bent down, and Clement put the diadem on his head, saying: “Charles, emperor invincible, receive this crown which we place on your head, as a sign to all the earth of the authority that is conferred upon you.”
The emperor then kissed the white cross embroidered on the pope’s red slipper, and exclaimed: “I swear to be, with all my powers and resources, the perpetual defender of the pontifical dignity and of the Church of Rome.”
The two princes now took their seats under the same canopy, but on thrones of unequal height, the emperor’s being half a foot lower than the pontiff’s, and the cardinal-deacon proclaimed to the people “The invincible emperor, Defender of the Faith.” For the next halfhour nothing was heard but the noise of musketry, trumpets, drums, and fifes, all the bells of the city, and the shouts of the multitude. Thus was proclaimed anew the close union of politics with religion.
The mighty emperor, transformed to a Roman deacon and humbly serving mass, like a canon of St. Peter’s, had typified and declared the indissoluble union of the Romish Church with the State. This is one of the essential doctrines of Popery, and one of the most striking characteristics that distinguish it from the evangelical and the Christian Church.
Nevertheless, during the whole of the ceremony the pope seemed ill at ease, and sighed as soon as men’s eyes ceased to gaze on him. Accordingly, the French ambassador wrote to his court that these four months which the emperor and pope had spent together at Bologna, would bear fruit of which the King of France would assuredly have no cause to complain.
Scarcely had Charles V risen from before the altar of San Petronio, ere he turned his face towards Germany, and appeared on the Alps as the anointed of the Papacy.
The letter of convocation, so indulgent and benign, seemed forgotten: all things were made new since the pope’s blessings: there was but one thought in the imperial train, the necessity of rigorous measures; and the legate Campeggio ceased not to insinuate irritating words into Charles’s ear. “At the first rumour of the storm that threatens 94
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century them,” said Granvelle, “we shall see the Protestants flying on every side, like timid doves upon which the Alpine eagle pounces.”
Great indeed was the alarm throughout the empire; already even the affrighted people, apprehensive of the greatest disasters, repeated everywhere that Luther and Melancthon were dead. “Alas!” said Melancthon, consumed by sorrow, when he heard these reports, “the rumour is but too true, for I die daily.” But Luther, on the contrary, boldly raising the eye of faith towards heaven, exclaimed: “Our enemies triumph, but erelong to perish.” In truth the councils of the elector displayed an unprecedented boldness. “Let us collect our troops,” said they; “let us march on the Tyrol, and close the passage of the Alps against the emperor.” Philip of Hesse uttered a cry of joy when he heard of this. The sword of Charles had aroused his indolent allies at last.
Immediately fresh couriers from Ferdinand were sent to hasten the arrival of Charles, and all Germany was in expectation.
Before carrying out this gigantic design, the elector desired to consult Luther once more. The emperor in the midst of the electors was only the first among his equals; and independent princes were allowed to resist another prince, even if he were of higher rank than themselves. But Luther, dreading above all things the intervention of the secular arm in church affairs, was led to reply on the 6th March in this extraordinary manner: “Our prince’s subjects are also the emperor’s subjects, and even more so than princes are. To protect by arms the emperor’s subjects against the emperor, would be as if the burgomaster of Torgau wished to protect by force his citizens against the elector.”
“What must be done then?”—“Listen,” replied Luther. “If the emperor desires to march against us, let no prince undertake our defense. God is faithful: he will not abandon us.” All preparations for war were immediately suspended, the landgrave received a polite refusal, and the confederation was dissolved. It was the will of God that his cause should appear before the emperor without league and without soldiers, having faith alone for its shield.
Never perhaps has such boldness been witnessed in feeble and unarmed men; but never, although under an appearance of blindness, was there so much wisdom and understanding.
The question next discussed in the elector’s council was, whether he should go to the diet. The majority of the councillors opposed it. “Is it not risking everything,” said they, “to go and shut oneself up within the walls of a city with a powerful enemy?”
Bruck and the prince-electoral were of a different opinion. Duty in their eyes was a 95
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century better councillor than fear. “What!” said they, “would the emperor insist so much on the presence of the princes at Augsburg only to draw them into a snare? We cannot impute such perfidy to him.” The landgrave, on the contrary, seconded the opinion of the majority. “Remember Piacenza,” said he. “Some unforeseen circumstance may lead the emperor to take all his enemies in one cast of the net.” The chancellor stood firm. “Let the princes only comport themselves with courage,” said he, “and God’s cause is saved.” The decision was in favour of the nobler plan.
This diet was to be a lay council, or at the very least a national convention. The Protestants foresaw that a few unimportant concessions would be made to them at first, and then that they would be required to sacrifice their faith. It was therefore necessary to settle what were the essential articles of christian truth, in order to know whether, by what means, and how far they might come to an understanding with their adversaries. The elector accordingly had letters sent on the 14th March to the four principal theologians of Wittenberg, setting them this task before all other business. Thus, instead of collecting soldiers, this prince drew up articles: they were the best armament.
Luther, Jonas, and Melancthon (Pomeranus remaining at Wittenberg), arrived at Torgau in Easter week, asking leave to deliver their articles in person to Charles the Fifth. “God forbid!” replied the elector, “I also desire to confess my Lord.”
John having then confided to Melancthon the definitive arrangement of the confession, and ordered general prayers to be offered up, began his journey on the 3rd April, with one hundred and sixty horsemen, clad in rich scarlet cloaks embroidered with gold.
Every man was aware of the dangers that threatened the elector, and hence many in his escort marched with downcast eyes and sinking hearts. But Luther, full of faith, revived the courage of his friends, by composing and singing with his fine voice that beautiful hymn, since become so famous: Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gotte, Our God is a strong tower. Never did soul that knew its own weakness, but which, looking to God, despised every fear, find such noble accents. With our own strength we nought can do, Destruction yawns on every side: He fights for us, our champion true, Elect of God to be our guide. What is his name? The anointed One, The God of armies he; Of earth and heaven the Lord alone—With him, on field of battle won, Abideth victory.
This hymn was sung during the diet, not only at Augsburg, but in all the churches of Saxony, and its energetic strains were often seen to revive and inspirit 96
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century the most dejected minds. On Easter-eve the troop reached Coburg, and on the 23rd April the elector resumed his journey; but at the very moment of departure Luther received an order to remain. “Someone has said, ‘Hold your tongue, you have a harsh voice,’” wrote he to a friend. He submitted, however, without hesitation, setting an example of that passive obedience which he so boldly advocated. The elector feared that Luther’s presence would still further exasperate his adversaries, and drive Charles to extreme measures: the city of Augsburg had also written to him to that effect. But at the same time John was anxious to keep the reformer within reach, that he might be able to consult him. He was therefore left at Coburg, in the castle overlooking the town and the river Itz, in the upper story on the south side. It was from this place he wrote those numerous letters dated from the region of birds; and it was there that for many months he had to maintain with his old enemy of the Wartburg, Satan, a struggle full of darkness and of anguish.
On the 2nd May the elector reached Augsburg; it had been expected that he would stay away, and, to the great astonishment of all, he was the first at the rendezvous. He immediately sent Dolzig, marshal of the court, to meet the emperor and to compliment him. On the 12th May Philip of Hesse, who had at last resolved on not separating himself from his ally, arrived with an escort on one hundred and ninety horsemen; and almost at the same time the emperor entered Innspruck, in the Tyrol, accompanied by his brother, the queens of Hungary and Bohemia, the ambassadors of France, England, and Portugal, Campeggio the papal legate, and other cardinals, with many princes and nobles of Germany, Spain, and Italy.
How to bring back the heretics to obedience to the Church was the great topic of conversation in this brilliant court among nobles and priests, ladies and soldiers, councillors and ambassadors. They, or Charles at least, were not for making them ascend the scaffold, but they wished to act in such a manner that, untrue to their faith, they should bend the knee to the pope. Charles stopped at Innspruck to study the situation of Germany, and ensure the success of his schemes.
Scarcely was his arrival known ere a crowd of people high and low, flocked round him on every side, and more than 270,000 crowns, previously raised in Italy, served to make the Germans understand the justice of Rome’s cause. “All these heretics,”
was the cry, “will fall to the ground and crawl to the feet of the pope.”
Charles did not think so. He was, on the contrary, astonished to see what power the Reformation had gained. He momentarily even entertained the idea of leaving Augsburg alone, and of going straight to Cologne, and there proclaiming his brother King of the Romans. Thus, religious interests would have given way to dynastic 97
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century interests, at least so ran the report. But Charles the Fifth did not stop at this idea.
The question of the Reformation was there before him, increasing hourly in strength, and it could not be eluded.
Two parties divided the imperial court. The one, numerous and active, called upon the emperor to revive simply the edict of Worms, and, without hearing the Protestants, condemn their cause. The legate was at the head of this party. “Do not hesitate,” said he to Charles; “confiscate their property, establish the inquisition, and punish these obstinate heretics with fire and sword.” The Spaniards, who strongly seconded these exhortations, gave way to their accustomed debauchery, and many of them were arrested for seduction. This was a sad specimen of the faith they wished to impose on Germany. Rome has always thought lightly of morality.
Gattinara, although sick, had painfully followed in Charles’s train to neutralise the influence of the legate. A determined adversary of the Roman policy, he thought that the Protestants might render important services to Christendom. “There is nothing I desire so much,” said he, “as to see the Elector of Saxony and his allies persevere courageously in the profession of the Gospel, and call for a free religious council. If they allow themselves to be checked by promises or threats, I hesitate myself, I stagger, and I doubt of the means of salvation.” The enlightened and honest members of the Papal Church (and of whom there is always a small number) necessarily sympathize with the Reformation.
Charles V, exposed to these contrary influences, desired to restore Germany to religious unity by his personal intervention: for a moment he thought himself on the eve of success.
Amongst the persons who crowded to Innspruck was the unfortunate Christian, king of Denmark, Charles’s brother-in-law. In vain had he proposed to his subjects undertaking a pilgrimage to Rome in expiation of the cruelties of which he was accused: his people had expelled him. Having repaired to Saxony, to his uncle the elector, he had there heard Luther, and had embraced the evangelical doctrines, as far at least as external profession goes. This poor dethroned monarch could not resist the eloquence of the powerful ruler of two worlds, and Christian, won over by Charles the Fifth, publicly placed himself again under the sceptre of the Roman hierarchy.
All the papal party uttered a shout of triumph. Nothing equals their credulity, and the importance they attach to such valueless accessions. “I cannot describe the emotion with which this news has filled me,” wrote Clement VII to Charles, his hand trembling with joy; “the brightness of your majesty’s virtues begins at last to scatter the darkness: this example will lead to numberless conversions.”
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century Things were in this state when Duke George of Saxony, Duke William of Bavaria, and the Elector Joachim of Brandenburg, the three German princes who were the greatest enemies to the Reformation, hastily arrived at Innspruck.
The tranquillity of the elector, whom they had seen at Augsburg, had alarmed them, for they knew not the source whence John derived his courage: they fancied he was meditating some perfidious design. “It is not without reason,” said they to Charles, “that the Elector John has repaired the first to Augsburg, and that he appeared there with a considerable train: he wishes to seize your person. Act then with energy, and allow us to offer your majesty a guard of six thousand horse.”
Conference upon conference immediately took place. The Protestants were affrighted.
“They are holding a diet at Innspruck,” said Melancthon, “on the best means of having our heads.” But Gattinara prevailed on Charles to preserve his neutrality.
While this agitation prevailed in the Tyrol, the evangelical Christians, instead of mustering in arms, as they were accused, sent up their prayers to heaven, and the Protestant princes were preparing to render an account of their faith.
The Elector of Saxony held the first rank among them. Sincere, upright, and pure from his youth, early disgusted with the brilliant tourneys in which he had at first taken part, John of Saxony had joyfully hailed the day of the Reformation, and the Gospel light had gradually penetrated his serious and reflective mind. His great pleasure was to have the Holy Scriptures read to him during the latter hours of the day. It is true that, having arrived at an advanced age, the pious elector sometimes fell asleep, but he soon awoke with a start, and repeated the last passage aloud.
Although moderate and a friend of peace, he yet possessed an energy that was powerfully aroused by the great interests of the faith. There is no prince in the sixteenth century, and none perhaps since the primitive times of the Church, who has done so much as John of Saxony for the cause of the Gospel. Accordingly it was against him that the first efforts of the Papists were directed.
In order to gain him over, they wished to put in operation very different tactics from those which had been previously employed. At Spires the evangelicals had met with angry looks in every quarter; at Augsburg, on the contrary, the Papists gave them a hearty welcome;
they represented the distance that separated the two parties as very trifling, and in their private conversations made use of the mildest language, “seeking thus to entice the credulous Protestants to take the bait,” says an historian. The latter yielded with simplicity to these skilful manoeuvers.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century Charles the Fifth was convinced that the simple Germans would not be able to resist his star. “The King of Denmark has been converted,” said his courtiers to him,
“why should not the elector follow his example? Let us draw him into the imperial atmosphere.” John was immediately invited to come and converse familiarly with the emperor at Innspruck, with an assurance that he might reckon on Charles’s particular favour.
The prince-electoral, John Frederick, who on seeing the advances of the Papists had at first exclaimed: “We conduct our affairs with such awkwardness, that it is quite pitiable!” allowed himself to be caught by this stratagem. “The Papist princes,”
said he to his father, “exert every means of blackening our characters. Go to Innspruck in order to put a stop to these underhand practices; or if you are unwilling, send me in your place.”
This time the prudent elector moderated his son’s precipitancy, and replied to Charles’s ministers, that it was not proper to treat of the affairs of the diet in any other place than that which the emperor had himself appointed, and begged, in consequence, that his majesty would hasten his arrival. This was the first check that Charles met with.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century CHAPTER 3
Augsburg—The Gospel preached—The Emperor’s Message—The Sermons prohibited—Firmness of the Elector—The Elector’s Reply—Preparation of the Confession—Luther’s Sinai—His Son and his Father—Luther’s Merriment—
Luther’s Diet at Coburg—Saxony, a Paradise below—To the Bishops—Travail of the Church—Charles—The Pope’s Letter—Melancthon on Fasting—The Church, the Judge—The Landgrave’s catholic Spirit
Meantime Augsburg was filling more and more every day. Princes, bishops, deputies, gentlemen, cavaliers, soldiers in rich uniforms, entered by every gate, and thronged the streets, the public places, inns, churches, and palaces. All that was most magnificent in Germany was there about to be collected. The critical circumstances in which the empire and Christendom were placed, the presence of Charles V and his kindly manners, the love of novelty, of grand shows, and of lively emotions, tore the Germans from their homes. All those who had great interests to discuss, without reckoning a crowd of idlers, flocked from the various provinces of the empire, and hastily made their way towards this illustrious city.
In the midst of this crowd the elector and the landgrave were resolved to confess Jesus Christ, and to take advantage of this convocation in order to convert the empire.
Scarcely had John arrived when he ordered one of his theologians to preach daily with open doors in the church of the Dominicans. On Sunday the 8th May, the same was done in the church of St. Catherine; on the 13th, Philip of Hesse opened the gates of the cathedral, and his chaplain Snepff there proclaimed the Word of Salvation; and on the following Sunday (May 15) this prince ordered Cellarius, minister of Augsburg and a follower of Zwingle, to preach in the same temple. Somewhat later the landgrave firmly settled himself in the church of St. Ulric, and the elector in that of St. Catherine. These were the two positions taken up by these illustrious princes.
Every day the Gospel was announced in these places to an immense and attentive crowd.
The partisans of Rome were amazed. They expected to see criminals endeavouring to dissemble their faults, and they met with confessors of Christ with uplifted heads and words of power. Desirous of counterbalancing these sermons, the Bishop of Augsburg ordered his suffragan and his chaplain to ascend the pulpit. But the Romish priests understood better how to say mass than to preach the Gospel.
“They shout, they bawl,” said some. “They are stupid fellows,” added all their hearers, shrugging their shoulders.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century The Romanists, ashamed of their own priests, began to grow angry, and unable to hold their ground by preaching, had recourse to the secular power. “The priests are setting wondrous machines at work to gain Caesar’s mind,” said Melancthon. They succeeded, and Charles made known his displeasure at the hardihood of the princes.
The friends of the pope then drew near the Protestants, and whispered into their ears,
“that the emperor, victor over the King of France and the Roman pontiff, would appear in Germany to crush all the Gospellers.” The anxious elector demanded the advice of his theologians.
Before the answer was ready, Charles’s orders arrived, brought by two of his most influential ministers, the Counts of Nassau and of Nuenar. A more skilful choice could not have been made. These two nobles, although devoted to Charles, were favourable to the Gospel, which they professed not long after. The elector was therefore fully disposed to listen to their counsel.
On the 24th May, the two counts delivered their letters to John of Saxony, and declared to him the emperor’s exceeding grief that religious controversies should disturb the good understanding which had for so many years united the houses of Saxony and Austria; that he was astonished at seeing the elector oppose an edict (that of Worms) which had been unanimously passed by all the states of the empire; and that the alliances he had made tended to tear asunder the unity of Germany, and might inundate it with blood. They required at last that the elector would immediately put a stop to the evangelical preachings, and added, in a confidential tone, that they trembled at the thought of the immediate and deplorable consequences which would certainly follow the elector’s refusal. “This,” said they, “is only the expression of our own personal sentiments.” It was a diplomatic manoeuver, the emperor having enjoined them to give utterance to a few threats, but solely as if proceeding from themselves.
The elector was greatly agitated. “If his majesty forbids the preaching of the Gospel,” exclaimed he, “I shall immediately return home.” He waited however for the advice of his theologians.
Luther’s answer was ready first. “The emperor is our master,” said he; “the town and all that is in it belong to him. If your highness should give orders at Torgau for this to be done, and for that to be left undone, the people ought not to resist. I should prefer endeavouring to change his majesty’s decision by humble and respectful solicitation; but if he persists, might makes right; we have but done our duty.” Thus spoke the man who has often been represented as a rebel.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century Melancthon and the others were nearly of the same opinion, except that they insisted more on the necessity of representing to the emperor, “that in their sermons nothing controversial was introduced, but they were content simply to teach the doctrine of Christ the Saviour. Let us beware, above all,” continued they, “of leaving the city. Let your highness with an intrepid heart confess in presence of his majesty by what wonderful ways you have attained to a right understanding of the truth, and do not allow yourself to be alarmed at these thunder-claps that fall from the lips of our enemies.” To confess the truth—such was the object to which, according to the Reformers, everything else should be subordinate.
Will the elector yield to this first demand of Charles, and thus begin, even before the emperor’s arrival, that list of sacrifices, the end of which cannot be foreseen? No one in Augsburg was firmer than John. In vain did the reformers represent that they were in the emperor’s city, and only strangers: the elector shook his head. Melancthon in despair wrote to Luther: “Alas! how untractable is our old man!” Nevertheless he again returned to the charge. Fortunately there was an intrepid man at the elector’s right hand, the chancellor Bruck, who feeling convinced that policy, honour, and above all, duty, bound the friends of the Reformation to resist the menaces of Charles, said to the elector: “The emperor’s demand is but a worthy beginning to bring about the definitive abolition of the Gospel. If we yield at present, they will crush us by and by. Let us therefore humbly beg his majesty to permit the continuance of the sermons.”
Thus, at that time, a statesman stood in the foremost rank of the confessors of Jesus Christ. This is one of the characteristic features of this great age, and it must not be forgotten, if we would understand its history aright.
On the 31st May, the elector sent his answer in writing to Charles’s ministers.
“It is not true,” it bore, “that the edict of Worms was approved of by the six electors.
How could the elector, my brother, and myself, by approving it, have opposed the everlasting word of Almighty God? Accordingly, succeeding diets have declared this edict impossible to be executed. As for the relations of friendship that I have formed, their only aim is to protect me against acts of violence. Let my accusers lay before the eyes of his majesty the alliances they have made; I am ready to produce mine, and the emperor shall decide between us.—Finally, As to the demand to suspend our preachings, nothing is proclaimed in them but the glorious truth of God, and never was it so necessary to us. We cannot therefore do without it!”
This reply must necessarily hasten the arrival of Charles; and it was urgent they should be prepared to receive him. To proclaim their belief, and then be silent, was the whole plan of the protestant campaign. A Confession was therefore necessary.
One man, of small stature, frail, timid, and in great alarm, was commissioned to 103
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century prepare this instrument of war. Philip Melancthon worked at it night and day: he weighed every expression, softened it down, changed it, and then frequently returned to his first idea. He was wasting away his strength; his friends trembled lest he should die over his task; and Luther enjoined him, as early as the 12th of May, under pain of anathema, to take measures for the preservation of “his little body,” and not
“to commit suicide for the love of God.” “God is as usefully served by repose,” added he, “and indeed man never serves him better than by keeping himself tranquil. It is for this reason God willed that the Sabbath should be so strictly observed.”
Notwithstanding these solicitations, Melancthon’s application augmented, and he set about an exposition of the christian faith, at once mild, moderate, and as little removed as possible from the doctrine of the Latin Church. At Coburg he had already put his hand to the task, and traced out in the first part the doctrines of the faith, according to the articles of Schwabach; and in the second, the abuses of the Church, according to the articles of Torgau, making altogether quite a new work. At Augsburg he gave a more correct and elegant form to this Confession.
The Apology, as it was then called, was completed on the 11th May; and the elector sent it to Luther, begging him to mark what ought to be changed. “I have said what I thought most useful,” added Melancthon, who feared that his friend would find the Confession too weak; “for Eck ceases not to circulate against us the most diabolical calumnies, and I have endeavoured to oppose an antidote to his poisons.”
Luther replied to the elector on the 15th May: “I have read Master Philip’s Apology; I like it well enough, and have no corrections to make. Besides, that would hardly suit me, for I cannot walk so meekly and so silently. May Christ our Lord grant that this work may produce much and great fruit.”
Each day, however, the elector’s councillors and theologians, in concert with Melancthon, improved the Confession, and endeavoured to render it such that the charmed diet should, in its own despite, hear it to the very end.
While the struggle was thus preparing at Augsburg, Luther at Coburg, on the summit of the hill, “on his Sinai,” as he called it, raised his hands like Moses towards heaven. He was the real general of the spiritual war that was then waging; his letters ceased not to bear to the combatants the directions which they needed, and numerous pamphlets issuing from his stronghold, like discharges of musketry, spread confusion in the enemy’s camp.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century The place where he had been left was, by its solitude, favourable to study and to meditation. “I shall make a Zion of this Sinai,” said he on the 22nd April, “and I shall build here three tabernacles; one to the Psalms, another to the Prophets, and a third-
----to Esop!” This last word may well startle us. The association belongs neither to the language nor the spirit of the Apostles. It is true that Esop was not to be his principal study; the fables were soon laid aside, and truth alone engaged Luther. “I shall weep, I shall pray, I shall never be silent,” wrote he, “until I know that my cry has been heard in heaven.”
Besides, by way of relaxation, he had something better than Esop; he had those domestic joys whose precious treasures the Reformation had opened to the ministers of the Word. It was at this time he wrote that charming letter to his infant son, in which he describes a delightful garden where children dressed in gold are sporting about, picking up apples, pears, cherries, and plums; they sing, dance, and enjoy themselves, and ride pretty little horses, with golden bridles and silver saddles.
But the reformer was soon drawn away from these pleasing images. About this time he learnt that his father had gently fallen asleep in the faith which is in Jesus Christ. “Alas!” exclaimed he, shedding tears of filial love, “it is by the sweat of his brow that he made me what I am.” Other trials assailed him; and to bodily pains were added the phantoms of his imagination. One night in particular he saw three torches pass rapidly before his eyes, and at the same moment heard claps of thunder in his head, which he ascribed to the devil. His servant ran in at the moment he fainted, and after having restored him to animation, read to him the Epistle to the Galatians.
Luther, who had fallen asleep, said as he awoke: “Come, and despite of the devil let us sing the Psalm, Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord!” They both sang the hymn. While Luther was thus tormented by these internal noises, he translated the prophet Jeremiah, and yet he often deplored his idleness.
He soon devoted himself to other studies, and poured out the floods of his irony on the mundane practices of courts. He saw Venice, the pope, and the King of France, giving their hands to Charles V to crush the Gospel. Then, alone in his chamber in the old castle, he burst into irresistible laughter. “Mr. Par-ma-foy (it was thus he designated Francis I), In-nomine-Domini (the pope), and the republic of Venice, pledge their goods and their bodies to the emperor Sanctissimum foedus. A most holy alliance truly! This league between these four powers belongs to the chapter Noncredimus. Venice, the pope, and France become imperialists! But these are three persons in one substance, filled with unspeakable hatred against the emperor. Mr.
Par-ma-foy cannot forget his defeat at Pavia; Mr. In-nomine-Domini is, 1st, an Italian, which is already too much; 2nd, a Florentine, which is worse; 3rd, a bastard—
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century that is to say, a child of the devil; 4th, he will never forget the disgrace of the sack of Rome. As for the Venetians, they are Venetians: that is quite enough; and they have good reason to avenge themselves on the posterity of Maximilian. All this belongs to the chapter Firmitercredimus. But God will help the pious Charles, who is a sheep among wolves. Amen.” The ex-monk of Erfurth had a surer political foresight than many diplomatists of his age.
Impatient at seeing the diet put off from day to day, Luther formed his resolution, and ended by convoking it even at Coburg. “We are already in full assembly,” wrote he on the 28th April and the 9th May. “You might here see kings, dukes, and other grandees, deliberating on the affairs of their kingdom, and with indefatigable voice publishing their dogmas and decrees in the air. They dwell not in those caverns which you decorate with the name of palaces: the heavens are their canopy; the leafy trees form a floor of a thousand colours, and their walls are the ends of the earth. They have a horror of all the unmeaning luxury of silk and gold; they ask neither coursers nor armour, and have all the same clothing and the same colour. I have not seen or heard their emperor; but if I can understand them, they have determined this year to make a pitiless war upon----the most excellent fruits of the earth.—Ah! my dear friends,” said he to his colleagues, to whom he was writing, “these are the sophists, the papists, who are assembled before me from all quarters of the world to make me hear their sermons and their cries.” These two letters, dated from the “empire of ravens and crows,” finish in the following mournful strain, which shows us the reformer descending into himself after this play of his imagination: “Enough of jesting!— jesting which is, however, sometimes necessary to dispel the gloomy thoughts that overwhelm me.”
Luther soon returned to real life, and thrilled with joy at beholding the fruits that the Reformation was already bearing, and which were for him a more powerful
“apology” than even the Confession of Melancthon. “Is there in the whole world a single country to be compared to your highness’s states,” wrote he to the elector, “and which possesses preachers of so pure a doctrine, or pastors so fitted to bring about the reign of peace? Where do we see, as in Saxony, boys and girls well instructed in the Holy Scriptures and in the Catechism, increasing in wisdom and in stature, praying, believing, talking of God and of Christ better than has been done hitherto by all the universities, convents, and chapters of Christendom?”—“My dear Duke John, says the Lord to you, I commend this paradise to thee, the most beautiful that exists in the world, that thou mayst be its gardener.” And then he added: “Alas! the madness of the papist princes changes this paradise of God into a dirty slough, and corrupting the youth, daily peoples with real devils their states, their tables, and their palaces.”
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century Luther, not content with encouraging his prince, desired also to frighten his adversaries. It was with this intent that he wrote at that time an address to the members of the clergy assembled at Augsburg. A crowd of thoughts, like lansquenets armed cap-a-pie, “rushed in to fatigue and bewilder him;” and in fact there is no want of barbed words in the discourse he addresses to the bishops. “In short,” said he to them in conclusion, “we know and you know that we have the Word of God, and that you have it not. O pope! if I live I shall be a pestilence to thee; and if I die, I shall be thy death!”
Thus was Luther present at Augsburg, although invisible; and he effected more by his words and by his prayers than Agricola, Brentz, or Melancthon. These were the days of travail for the Gospel truth. It was about to appear in the world with a might, destined to eclipse all that had been done since the time of St. Paul; but Luther only announced and manifested the things that God was effecting: he did not execute them himself. He was, as regards the events of the Church, what Socrates was to philosophy: “I imitate my mother (she was a midwife),” this philosopher was in the habit of saying; “she does not travail herself, but she aids others.” Luther—and he never ceased repeating it—has created nothing; but he has brought to light the precious seed, hidden for ages in the bosom of the Church. The man of God is not he who seeks to form his age according to his own peculiar ideas, but he who, distinctly perceiving God’s truth, such as it is found in his Word, and as it is hidden in his Church, brings it to his contemporaries with courage and decision.
Never had these qualities been more necessary, for matters were taking an alarming aspect. On the 4th June died Chancellor Gattinara, who was to Charles the Fifth “what Ulpian was to Alexander Severus,” says Melancthon, and with him all the human hopes of the Protestants vanished. “It is God,” Luther had said, “who has raised up for us a Naaman in the court of the King of Syria.” In truth Gattinara alone resisted the pope. When Charles brought to him the objections of Rome: “Remember,”
said the chancellor, “that you are master!” Henceforward everything seemed to take a new direction. The pope required that Charles should be satisfied with being his
“lictor,” as Luther says, to carry out his judgments against the heretics. Eck, whose name (according to Melancthon) was no bad imitation of the cry of Luther’s crows, heaped one upon another a multitude of pretended heretical propositions, extracted from the reformer’s writings. They amounted to four hundred and four, and yet he made excuse that, being taken unawares, he was forced to restrict himself to so small a number, and he called loudly for a disputation with the Lutherans. They retorted on these propositions by a number of ironical and biting theses on “wine, Venus, and baths, against John Eck;” and the poor doctor became the general laughing-stock.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century But others went to work more skillfully than he. Cochloeus, who became chaplain to Duke George of Saxony in 1527, begged an interview with Melancthon,
“for,” added he, “I cannot converse with your married ministers.” Melancthon, who was looked upon with an evil eye at Augsburg, and who had complained of being more solitary there than Luther in his castle, was touched by this courtesy, and was still more fully penetrated with the idea that things should be ordered in the mildest manner possible.
The Romish priests and laymen made a great uproar, because on fast days meat was usually eaten at the elector’s court. Melancthon advised his prince to restrict the liberty of his attendants in this respect. “This disorder,” said he, “far from leading the simpleminded to the Gospel, scandalises them.” He added, in his ill-humour: “A fine holiness truly, to make it a matter of conscience to fast, and yet to be night and day given up to wine and folly!” The elector did not yield to Melancthon’s advice; it would have been a mark of weakness of which his adversaries would have known how to take advantage.
On the 31st May, the Saxon Confession was at length communicated to the other protestant states, who required that it should be presented in common in the name of them all. But at the same time they desired to make their reservations with regard to the influence of the state. “We appeal to a council,” said Melancthon; “we will not receive the emperor as our judge; the ecclesiastical constitutions themselves forbid him to pronounce in spiritual matters. Moses declares that it is not the civil magistrate who decides, but the sons of Levi. St. Paul also says (1 Corinthians 14.),
‘let the others judge,’ which cannot be understood except of an entire christian assembly; and the Saviour himself gives us this commandment: ‘Tell it unto the Church.’ We pledge, therefore, our obedience to the emperor in all civil matters; but as for the Word of God, we demand liberty.”
All were agreed on this point; but the dissent came from another quarter. The Lutherans feared to compromise their cause if they went hand in hand with the Zwinglians. “This is Lutheran madness,” replied Bucer: “it will perish of its own weight.” But, far from allowing this madness “to perish,” the reformed augmented the disunion by exaggerated complaints. “In Saxony they are beginning to sing Latin hymns again,” said they; “the sacred vestments are resumed, and oblations are called for anew. We would rather be led to slaughter, than be Christians after that fashion.”
The afflicted landgrave, says Bucer, was “between the hammer and the anvil;”
and his allies caused him more uneasiness than his enemies. He applied to Rhegius, to Brentz, to Melancthon, declaring that it was his most earnest wish to see concord 108
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century prevail among all the evangelical doctors. “If these fatal doctrines are not opposed,”
replied Melancthon, “there will be rents in the Church that will last to the end of the world. Do not the Zwinglians boast of their full coffers, of having soldiers prepared, and of foreign nations disposed to aid them? Do they not talk of sharing among them the rights and the property of the bishops, and of proclaiming liberty Good God! shall we not think of posterity, which, if we do not repress these guilty seditions, will be at once without throne and without altar?”— “No, no! we are one,” replied this generous prince, who was so much in advance of his age; “we all confess the same Christ, we all profess that we must eat Jesus Christ, by faith, in the eucharist. Let us unite.” All was unavailing. The time in which true catholicity was to replace this sectarian spirit, of which Rome is the most perfect expression, had not yet arrived.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century CHAPTER 4
Agitation in Augsburg—Violence of the Imperialists—Charles at Munich—
Charles’s Arrival—The Nuncio’s Blessing—The Imperial Procession—Charles’s Appearance—Enters Augsburg—Te Deum—The Benediction—Charles desires the Sermons to be discontinued—Brandenburg offers his Head—The Emperor’s Request for Corpus Christi—Refusal of the Princes—Agitation of Charles—The Princes oppose Tradition—Procession of Corpus Christi—Exasperation of Charles In proportion as the emperor drew near Augsburg, the anxieties of the Protestants continued increasing. The burghers of this imperial city expected to see it become the theatre of strange events. Accordingly they said that if the elector, the landgrave, and other friends of the Reformation were not in the midst of them, they would all desert it. “A great destruction threatens us,” was repeated on every side.
One of Charles’s haughty expressions above all disquieted the Protestants. “What do these electors want with me?” he had said impatiently; “I shall do what I please!”
Thus arbitrary rule was the imperial law destined to prevail in the diet.
To this agitation of men’s minds was added the agitation of the streets, or rather one led to the other. Masons and locksmiths were at work in all the public places and crossings, labouriously fastening barriers and chains to the walls, that might be closed or stretched at the first cry of alarm. At the same time about eight hundred foot and horse soldiers were seen patrolling the streets, dressed in velvet and silk, whom the magistrates had enrolled in order to receive the emperor with magnificence.
Matters were in this state, and it was about the middle of May, when a number of insolent Spanish quartermasters arrived, who, looking with contemptuous eyes on these wretched burghers, entered their houses, conducted themselves with violence, and even rudely tore down the arms of some of the princes. The magistrates having delegated councillors to treat with them, the Spaniards made an impudent reply.
“Alas!” said the citizens, “if the servants are so, what will their master be?” The ministers of Charles were grieved at their impertinence, and sent a German quartermaster who employed the forms of German politeness to make them forget this Spanish haughtiness.
That did not last long, and they soon felt more serious alarm. The Council of Augsburg were asked what was the meaning of these chains and soldiers, and they were ordered, in the emperor’s name, to take down the one and disband the other.
The magistrates of the city answered in alarm, “For more than ten years past we have intended putting up these chains; and as for the soldiers, our object is simply to pay 110
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century due honour to his majesty.” After many parleys it was agreed to dismiss the troops, and that the imperial commanders should select afresh a thousand men, who should make oath to the emperor, but be paid by the city of Augsburg.
The imperial quartermasters then resumed all their insolence; and no longer giving themselves the trouble of entering the houses and the shops, they tore down the signboards of the Augsburg citizens, and wrote in their place how many men and horses the latter would be required to lodge.
Such were the preludes to the work of conciliation that Charles V had announced, and that he was so slow in beginning. Accordingly his delay, attributed by some to the crowds of people who surrounded him with their acclamations; by others to the solicitations of the priests, who opposed his entry into Augsburg until he had imposed silence on the ministers; and by others, finally, to the lessons the pope had given him in the arts of policy and stratagem, still more estranged the elector and his allies.
At last Charles, having quitted Innspruck two days after Gattinara’s death, arrived at Munich on the 10th June. His reception was magnificent. About two miles from the town a temporary fortress had been erected, around which a sham-fight took place. Soldiers mounted to the assault, mines were exploded; discharges of artillery, clouds of smoke, the clash of arms, the shouts of the combatants, delighted the eyes and ears of the emperor; within the city, theatres had been raised in the open air, in which the Jewish Esther, the Persian Cambyses, and other pieces not less famous, were represented; and the whole, combined with splendid fireworks, formed the welcome given by the adherents of the pope to him whom they styled their saviour.
Charles was not far distant from Augsburg. As early as the 11th June, every day and every hour, members of the imperial household, carriages, wagons, and baggage entered the city, to the sound of the clacking whip and of the horn; and the burghers in amazement gazed with dejected eyes on all this insolent train, that fell upon their city like a flight of locusts.
At five o’clock in the morning of the 15th June, the elector, the princes, and their councillors, assembled at the town-hall, and erelong arrived the imperial commissaries, with orders for them to go out and meet Charles. At three in the afternoon the princes and deputies quitted the city, and, having reached a little bridge across the river Lech, they there halted and waited for the emperor. The eyes of every member of the brilliant assemblage, thus stopping on the smiling banks of an alpine torrent, were directed along the road to Munich. At length, after waiting two or three hours, clouds of dust and a loud noise announced the emperor. Two thousand of the 111
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century imperial guard marched first; and as soon as Charles had come to within fifty paces of the river, the electors and princes alighted. Their sons, who had advanced beyond the bridge, perceiving the emperor preparing to do the same, ran to him and begged him to remain on horseback; but Charles dismounted without hesitation, and approaching the princes with an amiable smile, cordially shook hands with them.
Albert of Mentz, in his quality of arch-chancellor of the empire, now welcomed the emperor, and the Count-palatine Frederick replied in behalf of Charles.
While this was passing, three individuals remained apart on a little elevation; these were the Roman legate, proudly seated on a mule, glittering with purple, and accompanied by two other cardinals, the Archbishop of Salzburg and the Bishop of Trent. The Nuncio, beholding all these great personages on the road, raised his hands, and gave them his blessing. Immediately the emperor, the king, and the princes who submitted to the pope, fell on their knees; the Spaniards, Italians, Netherlanders, and Germans in their train, imitated their movements, casting however a side glance on the Protestants, who, in the midst of this humbly prostrate crowd, alone remained standing. Charles did not appear to notice this, but he doubtless understood what it meant. The Elector of Brandenburg then delivered a Latin speech to the legate. He had been selected because he spoke this language better than the princes of the Church; and accordingly, Charles, when praising his eloquence, slily put in a word about the negligence of the prelates. The emperor now prepared to remount his horse; the Prince-electoral of Saxony, and the young princes of Luneburg, Mecklenburg, Brandenburg, and Anhalt, rushed towards him to aid him in getting into his saddle: one held the bridle, another the stirrup, and all were charmed at the magnificent appearance of their powerful sovereign. The procession began to move on.
First came two companies of lansquenets, commanded by Simon Seitz, a citizen of Augsburg, who had made the campaign of Italy, and was returning home laden with gold. Next advanced the households of the six electors, composed of princes, counts, councillors, gentlemen, and soldiers; the household of the Dukes of Bavaria had slipped into their ranks, and the four hundred and fifty horsemen that composed it marched five abreast, covered with bright cuirasses, and wearing red doublets, while over their heads floated handsome many-coloured plumes. Bavaria was already in this age the main support of Rome in Germany.
Immediately after came the households of the emperor and of his brother, in striking contrast with this warlike show. They were composed of Turkish, Polish, Arabian, and other led horses; then followed a multitude of young pages, clad in yellow or red velvet, with Spanish, Bohemian, and Austrian nobles in robes of silk and velvet; among these the Bohemians had the most martial air, and gracefully rode 112
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century their superb and prancing coursers. Last the trumpeters, drummers, heralds, grooms, footmen, and the legate’s cross-bearers, announced the approach of the princes.
In fact these powerful lords, whose contentions had so often filled Germany with confusion and war, now advanced riding peacefully side by side. After the princes appeared the electors; and the Elector of Saxony, according to custom, carried the naked and glittering imperial sword immediately before the emperor.
Last came the prince, on whom all eyes were fixed. Thirty years of age, of distinguished port and pleasing features, robed in golden garments that glittered all over with precious stones, wearing a small Spanish hat on the crown of his head, mounted on a beautiful Polish hackney of the most brilliant whiteness, riding beneath a rich canopy of red, white, and green damask borne by six senators of Augsburg, and casting around him looks in which gentleness was mingled with gravity, Charles excited the liveliest enthusiasm, and everyone exclaimed that he was the handsomest man in the empire, as well as the mightiest prince in the world.
He had at first desired to place his brother and the legate at his side; but the Elector of Mentz, attended by two hundred guards arrayed in silk, had claimed the emperor’s right hand; and the Elector of Cologne, with a hundred well-armed attendants, had taken his station on the left. King Ferdinand and the legate came next; to whom succeeded the cardinals, ambassadors, and prelates, among whom was remarked the haughty Bishop of Osma, the emperor’s confessor. The imperial cavalry and the troops of Augsburg closed the procession.
Never, according to the historians, had anything so magnificent been seen in the empire; but they advanced slowly, and it was between eight and nine o’clock in the evening before they reached the gates of Augsburg. Here they met the burgomaster and councillors, who prostrated themselves before Charles, and at the same time the cannon from the ramparts, the bells from all the steeples in full peal, the noise of trumpets and kettle-drums, and the joyful acclamations of the people, re-echoed with loud din. Stadion, bishop of Augsburg, and his clergy robed in white, struck up the Advenisti desirabilis; and six canons, advancing with a magnificent canopy, prepared to conduct the emperor to the cathedral, when Charles’s horse, startled at this unusual sight, suddenly reared, and the emperor had some difficulty in mastering him. At length Charles entered the minster, which was ornamented with garlands and flowers, and suddenly illuminated by a thousand torches.
The emperor went up to the altar, and falling on his knees, raised his hands towards heaven. During the Te Deum, the Protestants observed with anxiety that 113
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century Charles kept conversing in a low tone with the Archbishop of Mentz; that he bent his ear to the legate who approached to speak to him, and nodded in a friendly manner to Duke George. All this appeared to them of evil omen; but at the moment when the priests sang the Te ergo quoesimus, Charles, breaking off his conversations, suddenly rose, and one of the acolytes running to him with a gold embroidered cushion, the emperor put it aside, and knelt on the bare stones of the church. All the assembly knelt with him; the elector and the landgrave alone remained standing. Duke George astonished at such boldness, cast a threatening glance at his cousin. The Margrave of Brandenburg, carried away by the crowd, had fallen on his knees; but having seen his two allies standing, he hastily rose up again.
The Cardinal-archbishop of Salzburg then proceeded to pronounce the benediction; but Campeggio, impatient at having as yet taken no part in the ceremony, hastened to the altar, and rudely thrusting the archbishop aside, said sharply to him:
“This office belongs to me, and not to you.” The other gave way, the emperor bent down, and the landgrave, with difficulty concealing a smile, hid himself behind a candelabrum. The bells now rang out anew, the procession recommenced its march, and the princes conducted the emperor to the palatinate (the name given to the bishop’s palace), which had been prepared for him. The crowd now dispersed: it was after ten at night.
The hour was come in which the partisans of the papacy flattered themselves with the prospect of rendering the Protestants untrue to their faith. The arrival of the emperor, the procession of the holy sacrament that was preparing, the late hour,—all had been calculated beforehand; “the nocturns of treason were about to begin,” said Spalatin.
A few minutes of general conversation took place in the emperor’s apartments; the princes of the Romish party were then allowed to retire; but Charles had given a sign to the Elector of Saxony, to the Landgrave of Hesse, to George, margrave of Brandenburg, to the Prince of Anhalt, and to the Duke of Luneburg, to follow him into his private chamber. His brother Ferdinand, who was to serve as interpreter, alone went in with them. Charles thought that so long as the Protestant princes were before the world, they would not yield; but that in a private and friendly interview, he might obtain all he desired of them.
“His majesty requests you to discontinue the sermons,” said Ferdinand. On hearing these words the two elder princes (the elector and the margrave) turned pale and did not speak: there was a long silence. At last the landgrave said: “We entreat your majesty to withdraw your request, for our ministers preach only the pure Word 114
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century of God, as did the ancient doctors of the Church, St. Augustine, St. Hilary, and so many others. Of this your majesty may easily convince yourself. We cannot deprive ourselves of the food of the Word of God, and deny his Gospel.”
Ferdinand, resuming the conversation in French (for it was in this language that he conversed with his brother), informed the emperor of the landgrave’s answer.
Nothing was more displeasing to Charles than these citations of Hilary and Augustine; the colour mounted to his cheeks, and he was nearly giving way to his anger. “His Majesty,” said Ferdinand in a more positive tone, “cannot desist from his demand.”—“Your conscience,” quickly replied the landgrave, “has no right to command ours.” As Ferdinand still persisted, the margrave, who had been silent until then, could contain himself no longer; and without caring for interpreters, stretched out his neck towards Charles, exclaiming in deep emotion: “Rather than allow the Word of the Lord to be taken from me, rather than deny my God, I would kneel down before your majesty and have my head cut off!” As he uttered these simple and magnanimous words, says a contemporary, the prince accompanied them with a significant gesture, and let his hands fall on his neck like the headsman’s axe. The excitement of the princes was at its height: had it been necessary, they would all four have instantly walked to the scaffold. Charles was moved by it; surprised and agitated, he hastily cried out in his bad German, making a show of checking the landgrave: “Dear prince, not the head! not the head!” But he had scarcely uttered these few words, when he checked himself.
These were the only words that Charles pronounced before the princes during all the diet. His ignorance of the German language, and sometimes also the etiquette of the Escurial, compelled him to speak only by the mouth of his brother or of the countpalatine. As he was in the habit of consecrating four hours daily to divine worship, the people said: “He talks more with God than with men.” This habitual silence was not favourable to his plans. They required activity and eloquence; but instead of that the Germans saw in the dumb countenance of their youthful emperor, a mere puppet, nodding his head and winking his eyes. Charles sometimes felt very keenly the faults of this position: “To be able to speak German,” said he, “I would willingly sacrifice any other language, even were it Spanish or French, and more than that, one of my states.”
Ferdinand saw that it was useless to insist on the cessation of these meetings; but he had another arrow in his quiver. The next day was the festival of Corpus Christi, and by a custom that had never as yet been infringed, all the princes and deputies present at the diet were expected to take part in the procession. Would the Protestants refuse this act of courtesy at the very opening of a diet to which each one 115
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century came in a conciliatory spirit? Have they not declared that the body and blood of Christ are really in the Host? Do they not boast of their opposition to Zwingle, and can they stand aloof, without being tainted with heresy? Now, if they share in the pomp that surrounds “the Lord’s body;” if they mingle with that crowd of clergy, glittering in luxury and swelling with pride, who carry about the God whom they have created; if they are present when the people bow down; will they not irrevocably compromise their faith? The machine is well prepared; its movements cannot fail; there is no more doubt! The craft of the Italians is about to triumph over the simplicity of these German boors!
Ferdinand therefore resumes, and making a weapon of the very refusal that he had just met with: “Since the emperor,” said he, “cannot obtain from you the suspension of your assemblies, he begs at least that you will accompany him tomorrow, according to custom, in the procession of the Holy Sacrament. Do so, if not from regard to him, at least for the honour of Almighty God.”
The princes were still more irritated and alarmed. “Christ,” said they, “did not institute his sacrament to be worshipped.” Charles persevered in his demand, and the Protestants in their refusal. Upon this the emperor declared that he would not accept their excuse, that he would give them time for reflection, and that they must be prepared to reply early on the morrow.
They separated in the greatest agitation. The prince-electoral, who had waited for his father in the first hall along with other lords, sought, at the moment the princes issued from the emperor’s chamber, to read on their countenance what had taken place. Judging from the emotion depicted on their features that the struggle had been severe, he thought that his father was incurring the greatest dangers, and accordingly, grasping him by the hand, dragged him to the staircase of the palace, exclaiming in affright, as if Charles’s satellites were already at his heels, “Come, come quickly!”
Charles, who had expected no such resistance, was in truth confounded, and the legate endeavoured to exasperate him still more. Agitated, filled with anger and vexation, and uttering the most terrible threats, the young emperor paced hastily to and fro the halls of his palace; and unable to wait for the answer until the morrow, he sent in the middle of the night to demand the elector’s final decision. “At present we require sleep,” replied the latter; “tomorrow we will let you know our determination.” As for the landgrave, he could not rest any more than Charles.
Scarcely had he returned home, when he sent his chancellor to the Nuremberg deputies, and had them awoke to make them acquainted with what had taken place.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century At the same time Charles’s demand was laid before the theologians, and Spalatin, taking the pen, drew up their opinion during the night. “The sacrament,” it bore, “was not instituted to be worshipped, as the Jews worshipped the brazen image. We are here to confess the truth, and not for the confirmation of abuses. Let us therefore stay away!” This opinion confirmed the evangelical princes in their determination; and the day of the 16th June began. The Elector of Saxony, feeling indisposed during the night, commissioned his son to represent him; and at seven o’clock the princes and councillors repaired on horseback to the emperor’s palace.
The Margrave of Brandenburg was their spokesman. “You know,” said he to Charles, “how, at the risk of our lives, my ancestors and myself have supported your august house. But, in the things of God, the commands of God himself oblige me to put aside all commandment of man. We are told that death awaits those who shall persevere in the sound doctrine: I am ready to suffer it.” He then presented the declaration of the evangelical princes to the emperor. “We will not countenance by our presence,” said they, “these impious human traditions, which are opposed to the Word of God. We declare, on the contrary, without hesitation, and with one accord, that we must expel them from the Church, lest those of its members that are still sound should be infected by this deadly poison.” “If you will not accompany his majesty for the love of God,” said Ferdinand, “do so at least for love of the emperor, and as vassals of the empire. His majesty commands you.” “An act of worship is in question,” replied the princes, “our conscience forbids it.” Then Ferdinand and Charles having conversed together in a low tone: “His majesty desires to see,” said the king, “whether you will obey him or not.” At the same time the emperor and his brother quitted the room; but the princes, instead of following him, as Charles had hoped, returned full of joy to their palaces.
The procession did not begin till noon. Immediately behind the canopy under which the Elector of Mentz carried the host, came the emperor alone, with a devout air, bearing a taper in his hand, his head bare and shorn like a priest’s, although the noon-day sun darted on him its most ardent rays. By exposing himself to these fatigues, Charles desired to profess aloud his faith in what constitutes the essence of Roman Catholicism. In proportion as the spirit and the life had escaped from the primitive churches, they had striven to replace them by forms, shows, and ceremonies.
The essential cause of the Romish worship is found in that decline of charity and faith which catholic Christians of the first ages have often deplored; and the history of Rome is summed up in this expression of St. Paul, Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof. But as the power was then beginning to revive in the Church, the form began also to decline. Barely a hundred citizens of Augsburg had 117
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century joined in the procession of the 16th June. It was no longer the pomp of former times: the christian people had learned anew to love and to believe.
Charles, however, under an air of devotion concealed a wounded heart. The legate was less able to command himself, and said aloud that this obstinacy of the princes would be the cause of great mischief to the pope. When the procession was over (it had lasted an hour), Charles could no longer master his extreme irritation; and he had scarcely returned to his palace, when he declared that he would give the protestant princes a safe-conduct, and that on the very next day these obstinate and rebellious men should quit Augsburg; the diet would then take such resolutions as were required for the safety of the Church and of the Empire. It was no doubt the legate who had given Charles this idea, which, if executed, would infallibly have led to a religious war. But some of the princes of the Roman party, desirous of preserving peace, succeeded, though not without difficulty, in getting the emperor to withdraw his threatening order.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century CHAPTER 5
The Sermons prohibited—Compromise proposed and accepted—The Herald—
Curiosity of the Citizens—The new Preachers—The Medley of Popery—Luther encourages the Princes—Veni Spiritus—Mass of the Holy Ghost—The Sermon—
Opening of the Diet—The Elector’s Prayer—Insidious Plan of the Romanists—Valdez and Melancthon—No public Discussion—Evangelical Firmness prevails Charles, being defeated on the subject of the procession, resolved to take his revenge on the assemblies, for nothing galled him like these sermons. The crowd ceased not to fill the vast church of the Franciscans, where a Zwinglian minister of lively and penetrating eloquence was preaching on the Book of Joshua. He placed the kings of Canaan and the children of Israel before them: his congregation heard them speak and saw them act, and everyone recognised in the kings of Canaan the emperor and the ultramontane princes, and in the people of God the adherents of the Reformation. In consequence, his hearers quitted the church enthusiastic in their faith, and filled with the desire of seeing the abominations of the idolaters fall to the ground. On the 16th June, the Protestants deliberated on Charles’s demand, and it was rejected by the majority. “It is only a scarecrow,” said they; “the Papists only desire to see if the nail shakes in the wall, and if they can start the hare from the thicket.”
The next morning (17th June) before breakfast, the princes replied to the emperor. “To forbid our ministers to preach purely the holy Gospel would be rebellion against God, who wills not that his Word be bound. Poor sinners that we are, we have need of this Divine Word to surmount our troubles. Moreover, his majesty has declared, that in this diet each doctrine should be examined with impartiality. Now, to order us henceforward to suspend the sermons, would be to condemn ours beforehand.”
Charles immediately convoked the other temporal and spiritual princes, who arrived at mid-day at the palatine palace, and remained sitting until the evening; the discussion was exceedingly animated. “This very morning,” said some of the speakers,
“the Protestant princes, as they quitted the emperor, had sermons delivered in public.”
Exasperated at this new affront, Charles with difficulty contained himself. Some of the princes, however, entreated him to accept their mediation, to which he consented; but the Protestants were immovable. Did these heretics, whom they imagined to reduce so easily, appear in Augsburg only to humiliate Charles? The honour of the chief of the empire must be saved at any cost. “Let us ourselves renounce our preachers,” said the princes; “the Protestants will not then persist in keeping theirs!”
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century The committee accordingly proposed that the emperor should set aside both Papist and Lutheran preachers, and should nominate a few chaplains, with authority to announce the pure Word of God, without attacking either of the two parties. “They shall be neutral men,” said they to the Protestants; neither Faber nor his partisans shall be admitted.”—“But they will condemn our doctrine.”—“By no means. The preacher shall do nothing but read the text of the Gospels, Epistles, and a general confession of sins.” The evangelical states required time to reflect upon it.
“We must accept it,” said Melancthon; “for if our obstinacy should lead the emperor to refuse hearing our confession, the evil would be greater still.”
“We are called to Augsburg,” said Agricola, “to give an account of our doctrine, and not to preach.”
“There is no little disorder in the city,” remarked Spalatin. “The sacramentarians and enthusiasts preach here as well as we: we must get out of this confusion.”
“What do the papists propose?” said other theologians; “to read the Gospels and Epistles without explanation. But is not that a victory? What! we protest against the interpretations of the Church; and lo! priests who are to read the Word of God without their notes and commentaries, that is to say, transforming themselves into protestant ministers!” “O! admirable wisdom of the courtiers!” exclaimed Melancthon, smiling.
To these motives were added the opinions of the lawyers. As the emperor ought to be considered the rightful magistrate of an imperial city, so long as he made it his residence, all jurisdiction in Augsburg really belonged to him.
“Well, then,” said the protestant princes, “we agree to silence our preachers, in the hope that we shall hear nothing offensive to our consciences. If it were otherwise, we should feel ourselves constrained to repel so serious an insult. Besides,” added the elector, as he withdrew, “we expect that if at any time we desire to hear one of our chaplains in our own palace, we shall be free to do so.”
They hastened to the emperor, who desired nothing better than to come to an understanding with the Protestants on this subject, and who ratified everything.
This was Saturday. An imperial herald was immediately sent out, who, parading the streets of the city at seven in the evening to the sound of trumpets, made the following proclamation:—“O yes, O yes! Thus ordains his imperial majesty, our most gracious lord: no one shall be allowed to preach in Augsburg except by his majesty’s 120
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century nomination, under penalty of incurring the displeasure and punishment of his majesty.”
A thousand different remarks were exchanged in the houses of the citizens of Augsburg. “We are very impatient,” said they, “to see the preachers appointed by the emperor, and who will preach (O! unprecedented wonder!) neither against the evangelical doctrine nor against the doctrine of the pope!” “We must expect,” added another, “to behold some Tragelaph or some chimera with the head of a lion, a goat’s body, and a dragon’s tail.” The Spaniards appeared well satisfied with this agreement, for many of them had never heard a single sermon in their lives; it was not the custom in Spain; but Zwingle’s friends were filled with indignation and alarm.
At length Sunday the 19th of June arrived; everyone hastened to the churches, and the people who filled them, with eyes fixed on the priest and with attentive ears, prepared to listen to what these new and strange preachers would say. It was generally believed that their task would be to make an evangelico-papistical discourse, and they were very impatient to hear this marvel. But “The mountain in labour gave birth to a mouse!”
The preacher first read the common prayer; he then added the Gospel of the day, finished with a general confession of sins, and dismissed his congregation. People looked at one another in surprise: “Verily,” said they, “here is a preacher that is neither Gospeller nor Papist, but strictly textual.” At last all burst into laughter; “and truly,” adds Brentz, “there was reason enough.” In some churches, however, the chaplains, after reading the Gospel, added a few puerile words, void of Christianity and of consolation, and in no way founded on the holy Scripture.
After the so-called sermon, they proceeded to the mass. That in the cathedral was particularly noisy. The emperor was not present, for he was accustomed to sleep until nine or ten o’clock, and a late mass was performed for him; but Ferdinand and many of the princes were present. The pealing notes of the organ, the resounding voices of the choir, echoed through the minister, and a numerous and motley crowd, rushing in at all the doors, filled the aisles of the temple. One might have said that every nation in the world had agreed to meet in the cathedral of Augsburg. Here were Frenchmen, there Spaniards, Moors in one place, Moriscos in another, on one side Italians; on the other Turks, and even, says Brentz, those who are called Stratiots.
This crowd was no bad representation of the medley of popery.
One priest alone, a fervent Romanist, dared to offer an apology for the mass in the church of the Holy Cross. Charles, wishing to maintain his authority, had him 121
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century thrown into the Greyfriars’ prison, whence they contrived to let him escape. As for the evangelical pastors of Augsburg, almost all left the city to hear the Gospel elsewhere. The protestant princes were anxious to secure for their churches the assistance of such distinguished men. Discouragement and alarm followed close upon this step, and even the firmest were moved. The elector was inconsolable at the privation imposed upon him by the emperor. “Our Lord God,” said he, heaving a deep sigh, “has received an order to be silent at the Diet of Augsburg.” From that time forward Luther lost the good opinion he had previously entertained of Charles, and foreboded the stormiest future. “See what will be the end of all this,” said he. “The emperor, who has ordered the elector to renounce the assemblies, will afterwards command him to renounce the doctrine; the diet will enter upon its paroxysm, and nothing will remain for us but to rely upon the arm of the Lord.”
Then giving way to all his indignation, he added: “The papists, abandoned to devils, are transported with rage; and to live they must drink blood. They wish to give themselves an air of justice, by giving us one of obstinacy. At Augsburg you have not to deal with men, but with the very gates of hell.” Melancthon himself saw his hopes vanish. “All, except the emperor,” said he, “hate us with the most violent hatred. The danger is great, very great Pray to Christ that he may save us!” But Luther, however full of sorrow he might be, far from being cast down, raised his head and endeavoured to reanimate the courage of his brethren. “Be assured and doubt not,” wrote he to them, “that you are the confessors of Jesus Christ, and the ambassadors of the Great King.”
They had need of these thoughts, for their adversaries, elated by this first success, neglected nothing that might destroy the Protestants, and taking another step forward, proposed forcing them to be present at the Romish ceremonies. “The Elector of Saxony,” said the legate to Charles, “ought in virtue of his office of grand-marshal of the empire to carry the sword before you in all the ceremonies of the diet. Order him therefore to perform his duty at the mass of the Holy Ghost, which is to open the sittings.” The emperor did so immediately, and the elector, uneasy at this message, called together his theologians. If he refused, his dignity would be taken away; and if he obeyed, he would trample his faith under foot (thought he), and would do dishonour to the Gospel.
But the Lutheran divines removed the scruples of their prince. “It is for a ceremony of the empire,” said they, “as grand-marshal, and not as a Christian, that you are summoned; the Word of God itself, in the history of Naaman, authorises you to comply with this invitation.” The friends of Zwingle did not think so; their walk was more decided than that of Wittenberg. “The martyrs allowed themselves to be 122
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century put to death,” said they, “rather than burn a grain of incense before the idols.” Even some of the Protestants, hearing that the Veni Spiritus was to be sung, said, wagging their heads: “We are very much afraid that the chariot of the Spirit, which is the Word of God, having been taken away by the papists, the Holy Ghost, despite their mass, will never reach Augsburg.” Neither these fears nor these objections were listened to.
On Monday the 20th June, the emperor and his brother, with the electors and princes of the empire, having entered the cathedral, took their seats on the right side of the choir; on the left were placed the legate, the archbishops, and bishops; in the middle were the ambassadors. Without the choir, in a gallery that overlooked it, were ranged the landgrave and other Protestants, who preferred being at a distance from the host. The elector, bearing the sword, remained upright near the altar at the moment of the adoration. The acolytes, having closed the gates of the choir immediately after, Vincent Pompinello, archbishop of Salerno, preached the sermon.
He commenced with the Turks and their ravages, and then, by an unexpected turn, began suddenly to exalt the Turks even above the Germans. “The Turks,” said he,
“have but one prince whom they obey; but the Germans have many who obey no one.
The Turks live under one sole law, one only custom, one only religion; but among the Germans there are some who are always wishing for new laws, new customs, new religions. They tear the seamless coat of Christ; they abolish by devilish inspirations the sacred doctrines established by unanimous consent, and substitute for them, alas!
buffoonery and obscenity. Magnanimous emperor, powerful king!” said he, turning towards Charles and his brother, “sharpen your swords, wield them against these perfidious disturbers of religion, and thus bring them back into the fold of the Church.
There is no peace for Germany so long as the sword shall not have entirely eradicated this heresy. O St. Peter and St. Paul! I call upon you; upon you, St. Peter, in order that you may open the stony hearts of these princes with your keys; and upon you, St.
Paul, that if they show themselves too rebellious, you may come with your sword, and cut in pieces this unexampled hardness!”
This discourse, intermingled with panegyrics of Aristides, Themistocles, Scipio, Cato, the Curtii and Scaevola, being concluded, the emperor and princes arose to make their offerings. Pappenheim returned the sword to the elector, who had intrusted it to him; and the grand-marshal, as well as the margrave, went to the offertory, but with a smile, as it is reported. This fact is but little in harmony with the character of these princes.
At length they quitted the cathedral. No one, except the friends of the nuncio, was pleased with the sermon. Even the Archbishop of Mentz was offended at it. “What does he mean,” exclaimed he, “by calling on St. Paul to cut the Germans with his 123
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century sword?” Nothing but a few inarticulate sounds had been heard in the nave; the Protestants eagerly questioned those of their party who had been present in the choir.
“The more these priests inflame people’s minds, and the more they urge their princes to bloody wars,” said Brentz at that time, “the more we must hinder ours from giving way to violence.” Thus spoke a minister of the Gospel of peace after the sermon of the priests of Rome.
After the mass of the Holy Ghost, the emperor entered his carriage, and having reached the town-hall, where the sittings of the diet were to take place, took his seat on a throne covered with cloth of gold, while his brother placed himself on a bench in front of him; then all around them were ranged the electors, forty-two sovereign princes, the deputies from the cities, the bishops, and ambassadors, forming, indeed, that illustrious assembly which Luther, six weeks before, had imagined he saw sitting in the air.
The count-palatine read the imperial proposition. It referred to two points; the war against the Turks, and the religious controversy. “Sacrificing my private injuries and interests to the common good,” said the emperor, “I have quitted my hereditary kingdoms, to pass, not without great danger, into Italy, and from thence to Germany.
I have heard with sorrow of the divisions that have broken out here, and which, striking not only at the imperial majesty, but still more at the commandments of Almighty God, must engender pillage, conflagration, war, and death.” At one o’clock the emperor, accompanied by all the princes, returned to his palace.
On the same day the elector gathered around him all his coreligionists, whom the emperor’s speech had greatly excited, and exhorted them not to be turned aside by any threats from a cause which was that of God himself. All seemed penetrated with this expression of Scripture: “Speak the word, and it shall not stand; for God is with us.”
The elector had a heavy burden to bear. Not only had he to walk at the head of the princes, but he had further to defend himself against the enervating influence of Melancthon. Throughout the whole of the diet this prince offers to our notice no mere abstraction of the state, but the noblest individuality. Early on Tuesday morning, feeling the necessity of that invisible strength which, according to a beautiful figure in the Holy Scriptures, causes us to ride upon the high places of the earth; and seeing, as was usual, his domestics, his councillors, and his son assembled around him, John begged them affectionately to withdraw. He knew that it was only be kneeling humbly before God that he could stand with courage before Charles. Alone in his chamber, he opened and read the Psalms; then falling on his knees, he offered up the most fervent 124
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century prayer to God; next, wishing to confirm himself in the immovable fidelity that he had just vowed to the Lord, he went to his desk, and there committed his resolutions to writing. Dolzig and Melancthon afterwards saw these lines, and were filled with admiration as they read them.
Being thus tempered anew in heavenly thoughts, John took up the imperial proposition, and meditated over it; then, having called in his son and the chancellor Bruck, and Melancthon shortly after, they all agreed that the deliberations of the diet ought to commence with the affairs of religion; and his allies, who were consulted, concurred in this advice.
The legate had conceived a plan diametrically opposed to this. He desired to stifle the religious question, and for this end required that the princes should examine it in a secret committee. The evangelical Christians entertained no doubt that if the truth was proclaimed in the great council of the nation, it would gain the victory; but the more they desired a public confession, the more it was dreaded by the pope’s friends.
The latter wished to take their adversaries by silence, without confession, without discussion, as a city is taken by famine without fighting and without a storm: to gag the Reformation, and thus reduce it to powerlessness and death, were their tactics. To have silenced the preachers was not enough: the princes must be silenced also. They wished to shut up the Reformation as in a dungeon, and there leave it to die, thinking they would thus get rid of it more surely than by leading it to the scaffold.
This plan was well conceived: it now remained to be put in execution, and for that purpose it was necessary to persuade the Protestants that such a method would be the surest for them. The person selected for this intrigue was Alphonso Valdez, secretary to Charles V, a Spanish gentleman, a worthy individual, and who afterwards showed a leaning towards the Reformation. Policy often makes use of good men for the most perfidious designs. It was decided that Valdez should address the most timid of the Protestants—Melancthon.
On the 16th or 17th of June, immediately after the arrival of Charles, Valdez begged Melancthon to call on him. “The Spaniards,” said he, “imagine that the Lutherans teach impious doctrines on the Holy Trinity, on Jesus Christ, on the blessed Mother of God. Accordingly, they think they do a more meritorious work in killing a Lutheran than in slaying a Turk.”
“I know it,” replied Melancthon, “and I have not yet been able to succeed in making your fellow-countrymen abandon that idea.”
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“But what, pray, do the Lutherans desire?”
“The Lutheran question is not so complicated and so unseemly as his majesty fancies. We do not attack the Catholic Church, as is commonly believed; and the whole controversy is reducible to these three points. The two kinds in the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, the marriage of pastors, and the abolition of private masses. If we could agree on these articles, it would be easy to come to an understanding on the others.”
“Well, I will report this to his majesty.”
Charles V was charmed at this communication. “Go,” said he to Valdez, “and impart these things to the legate, and ask Master Philip to transmit to you in writing a short exposition of what they believe and what they deny.”
Valdez hastened to Campeggio. “What you relate pleases me tolerably,” said the latter. “As for the two kinds in the sacrament, and the marriage of priests, there will be means of accommodation; but we cannot consent to the abolition of private masses.”
This would have been in fact cutting off one of the greatest revenues of the Church.
On Saturday, June 18th, Valdez saw Melancthon again. “The emperor begs of you a moderate and concise exposition,” said he, “and he is persuaded that it will be more advantageous to treat of this matter briefly and privately, avoiding all public hearing and all prolix discussion, which would only engender anger and division.”—
“Well,” said Melancthon, “I will reflect upon it.”
Melancthon was almost won over: a secret conference agreed better with his disposition. Had he not often repeated that peace should be sought after above all things? Thus everything induced the legate to hope that a public struggle would be avoided, and that he might be content, as it were, to send mutes against the Reform, and strangle it in a dungeon.
Fortunately the chancellor and the Elector Frederick did not think fit to entertain the propositions with which Charles had commissioned the worthy Valdez.
The resolution of these lay members of the Church saved it from the false step its doctors were about to take; and the wiles of the Italians failed against evangelical firmness. Melancthon was only permitted to lay the Confession before the Spaniard, that he might look into it, and in despite of the moderation employed in it, Valdez exclaimed: “These words are too bitter, and your adversaries will never put up with them!” Thus finished the legate’s manoeuvre.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century CHAPTER 6
The Elector’s Zeal—The Signing of the Confession—Courage of the Princes—
Melancthon’s Weakness—The Legate’s Speech—Delays—The Confession in Danger—The Protestants are firm—Melancthon’s Despondency—Luther’s Prayer and Anxiety—Luther’s Texts—His Letter to Melancthon—Faith Charles, compelled to resign himself to a public sitting, ordered on Wednesday, 22nd June, that the elector and his allies should have their Confession ready for the ensuing Friday. The Roman party were also invited to present a confession of faith; but they excused themselves, saying that they were satisfied with the Edict of Worms.
The emperor’s order took the Protestants by surprise, for the negotiations between Valdez and Melancthon had prevented the latter from putting the finishing stroke to the Confession. It was not copied out fair; and the conclusions, as well as the exordium, were not definitively drawn up. In consequence of this, the Protestants begged the Archbishop of Mentz to obtain for them the delay of a day; but their petition was refused. They therefore laboured incessantly, even during the night, to correct and transcribe the Confession.
On Thursday, 23rd June, all the protestant princes, deputies, councillors, and theologians met early at the elector’s. The Confession was read in German, and all gave their adhesion to it, except the landgrave and the Strasburgers, who required a change in the article on the sacrament. The princes rejected their demand.
The Elector of Saxony was already preparing to sign it, when Melancthon stopped him: he feared giving too political a colouring to this religious business. In his idea it was the Church that should appear, and not the State. “It is for the theologians and ministers to propose these things,” said he; “let us reserve for other matters the authority of the mighty ones of the earth.”—“God forbid that you should exclude me,” replied the elector; “I am resolved to do what is right without troubling myself about my crown. I desire to confess the Lord. My electoral hat and my ermine are not so precious to me as the cross of Jesus Christ. I shall leave on earth these marks of my greatness; but my Master’s cross will accompany me to heaven.”
How resist such christian language! Melancthon gave way. The elector then approached, signed, and handed the pen to the landgrave, who at first made some objections; however the enemy was at the door; was this a time for disunion? At last he signed, but with a declaration that the doctrine of the Eucharist did not please him.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century The margrave and Luneburg having joyfully subscribed their names, Anhalt took the pen in his turn, and said, “I have tilted more than once to please others; now, if the honour of my Lord Jesus Christ requires it, I am ready to saddle my horse, to leave my goods and life behind, and rush into eternity, towards an everlasting crown.”
Then, having signed, this youthful prince said, turning to the theologians, “I would rather renounce my subjects and my states, rather quit the country of my fathers staff in hand, rather gain my bread by cleaning the shoes of the foreigner, than receive any other doctrine than that which is contained in this Confession.” Nuremberg and Reutlingen alone of the cities subscribed their signatures; and all resolved on demanding of the emperor that the Confession should be read publicly.
The courage of the princes surprised everyone. Rome had crushed the members of the Church, and had reduced them to a herd of slaves, whom she dragged silent and humiliated behind her: the Reformation enfranchised them, and with their rights it restored to them their duties. The priest no longer enjoyed the monopoly of religion; each head of a family again became priest in his own house, and all the members of the Church of God were thenceforward called to the rank of confessors.
The laymen are nothing, or almost nothing, in the sect of Rome, but they are the essential portion of the Church of Jesus Christ. Where ever the priestly spirit is established, the Church dies; where ever laymen, as these Augsburg princes, understand their duty and their immediate dependence on Christ, the Church lives.
The evangelical theologians were moved by the devotedness of the princes.
“When I consider their firmness in the confession of the Gospel,” said Brentz, “the colour mounts to my cheeks. What a disgrace that we, who are only beggars beside them, are so afraid of confessing Christ!” Brentz was then thinking of certain towns, particularly of Halle, of which he was pastor, but no doubt also of the theologians.
The latter, in truth, without being deficient in devotedness, were sometimes wanting in courage. Melancthon was in constant agitation; he ran to and fro, slipping in everywhere (says Cochloeus in his Philippics), visiting not only the houses and mansions of private persons, but also insinuating himself into the palaces of cardinals and princes, nay, even into the court of the emperor; and, whether at table or in conversation, he spared no means of persuading every person, that nothing was more easy than to restore peace between the two parties.
One day he was with the Archbishop of Salzburg, who in a long discourse gave an eloquent description of the troubles produced, as he said, by the Reformation, and ended with a peroration “written in blood,” as Melancthon characterised it. Philip in agony had ventured during the conversation to slip in the word conscience.
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“Conscience!” hastily interrupted the archbishop, “Conscience!— What does that mean? I tell you plainly that the emperor will not allow confusion to be thus brought upon the empire.”—“Had I been in Melancthon’s place,” said Luther, “I should have immediately replied to the archbishop: And our emperor, ours, will not tolerate such blasphemy.”—“Alas,” said Melancthon, “they are all as full of assurance as if there was no God.”
Another day Melancthon was with Campeggio, and conjured him to persevere in the moderate sentiments he appeared to entertain. And at another time, as it would seem, he was with the emperor himself. “Alas!” said the alarmed Zwinglians, “after having qualified one-half of the Gospel, Melancthon is sacrificing the other.”
The wiles of the Ultramontanists were added to Philip’s dejection, in order to arrest the courageous proceedings of the princes. Friday, 24th June, was the day fixed for reading the Confession, but measures were taken to prevent it. The sitting of the diet did not begin till three in the afternoon; the legate was then announced; Charles went to meet him as far as the top of the grand staircase, and Campeggio, taking his seat in front of the emperor, in King Ferdinand’s place, delivered a harangue in Ciceronian style. “Never,” said he, “has St. Peter’s bark been so violently tossed by such various waves, whirlwinds, and abysses. The Holy Father has learned these things with pain, and desires to drag the Church from these frightful gulfs. For the love of Jesus Christ, for the safety of your country and for you own, O mighty Prince!
get rid of these errors, deliver Germany, and save Christendom!”
After a temperate reply from Albert of Mentz, the legate quitted the town-hall, and the evangelical princes stood up; but a fresh obstacle had been provided. Deputies from Austria, Carinthia, and Carniola, first received a hearing.
Much time had thus elapsed. The evangelical princes, however, rose up again, and the Chancellor Bruck said: “It is pretended that new doctrines not based on Scripture, that heresies and schisms, are spread among the people by us. Considering that such accusations compromise not only our good name, but also the safety of our souls, we beg his majesty will have the goodness to hear what are the doctrines we profess.”
The emperor, no doubt by arrangement with the legate, made reply that it was too late; besides, that this reading would be useless; and that the princes should be satisfied with putting in their Confession in writing. Thus the mine, so skillfully prepared, worked admirably; the Confession, once handed to the emperor, would be thrown aside, and the Reformation would be forced to retire, without the papists 129
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century having even condescended to hear it, without defense, and overwhelmed with contumely.
The protestant princes, uneasy and agitated, insisted. “Our honour is at stake,”
said they; “our souls are endangered. We are accused publicly; publicly we ought to answer.” Charles was shaken; Ferdinand leaned towards him, and whispered a few words in his ear; the emperor refused a second time. Upon this the elector and princes, in still greater alarm, said for the third time, with emotion and earnestness: “For the love of God, let us read our Confession! No person is insulted in it.” Thus were seen, on the one hand, a few faithful men, desiring with loud cries to confess their faith; and on the other, the great emperor of the west, surrounded by a crowd of cardinals, prelates, and princes, endeavouring to stifle the manifestation of the truth.
It was a serious, violent, and decisive struggle, in which the holiest interests were discussed!
At last Charles appeared to yield: “His majesty grants your request,” was the reply to the princes; “but as it is now too late, he begs you to transmit him your written Confession, and tomorrow, at two o’clock, the diet will be prepared to hear it read at the Palatine Palace.”
The princes were struck by these words, which, seeming to grant them everything, in reality granted nothing. In the first place, it was not in a public sitting at the town-hall, but privately in his own palace, that the emperor was willing to hear them; then they had no doubt that if the Confession left their hands it was all over with the public reading. They therefore remained firm. “The work has been done in great haste,” said they, and it was the truth; “pray leave it with us tonight, that we may revise it.” The emperor was obliged to yield, and the Protestants returned to their hotels full of joy; while the legate and his friends, perceiving that the Confession was inevitable, saw the morrow approach with continually increasing anxiety.
Among those who prepared to confess the evangelical truth, was one, however, whose heart was filled with sadness:—it was Melancthon. Placed between two fires, he saw the reformed, and many even of his own friends, reproach his weakness; while the opposite party detested what they called his hypocrisy. His friend Camerarius, who visited Augsburg about this time, often found him plunged in thought, uttering deep sighs, and shedding bitter tears. Brentz, moved with compassion, coming to the unhappy Philip, would sit down by his side and weep with him; and Jonas endeavoured to console him in another manner, by exhorting him to take the book of Psalms, and cry to God with all his heart, making use of David’s words rather than of his own.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century One day intelligence arrived which formed a general topic of conversation in Augsburg, and which, by spreading terror among the partisans of the pope, gave a momentary relief to Melancthon. It was said that a mule in Rome had given birth to a colt with crane’s feet. “This prodigy,” said Melancthon thoughtfully, “announces that Rome is near its end;” perhaps because the crane is a bird of passage, and that the pope’s mule thus gave signs of departure. Melancthon had immediately written to Luther, who replied that he was exceedingly rejoiced that God had given the pope so striking a sign of his approaching fall. It is good to recall to memory these puerilities of the age of the reformers, that we may better understand the high range of these men of God in matters of faith.
These idle Roman stories did not long console Melancthon. On the eve of the 25th of June, he was present in imagination at the reading of that Confession which he had drawn up, which was about to be proclaimed before the world, and in which one word too many or too few might decide on the approbation or the hatred of the princes, on the safety or ruin of the Reformation and of the empire. He could bear up no longer, and the feeble Atlas, crushed under the burden of the world upon his shoulders, gave utterance to a cry of anguish. “All my time here is spent in tears and mourning,”
wrote he to Vitus Diedrich, Luther’s secretary in the castle of Coburg; and on the morrow he wrote to Luther himself: “My dwelling is in perpetual tears. My consternation is indescribable. O my father! I do not wish my words to exaggerate my sorrows; but without your consolations, it is impossible for me to enjoy here the least peace.
Nothing in fact presented so strong a contrast to Melancthon’s distrust and dejection, as the faith, calmness, and exultation of Luther. It was of advantage to him that he was not then in the midst of the Augsburg vortex, and to be able from his stronghold to set his foot with tranquillity upon the rock of God’s promises. He was sensible himself of the value of this peaceful hermitage, as he called it. “I cannot sufficiently admire,” said Vitus Diedrich, “the firmness, cheerfulness, and faith of this man, so astonishing in such cruel times.”
Luther, besides his constant reading of the Word of God, did not pass a day without devoting three hours at least to prayer, and they were hours selected from those the most favourable to study. One day, as Diedrich approached the reformer’s chamber, he heard his voice, and remained motionless, holding his breath, a few steps from the door. Luther was praying, and his prayer (said the secretary) was full of adoration, fear, and hope, as when one speaks to a friend or to a father. “I know that thou art our Father and our God,” said the reformer, alone in his chamber, “and that thou wilt scatter the persecutors of they children, for thou art thyself endangered 131
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century with us. All this matter is thine, and it is only by thy constraint that we have put our hands to it. Defend us then, O Father!” The secretary, motionless as a statue, in the long gallery of the castle, lost not one of the words that the clear and resounding voice of Luther bore to his ears. The reformer was earnest with God, and called upon him with such unction to accomplish his promises, that Diedrich felt his heart glow within him. “Oh! exclaimed he, as he retired, “How could not these prayers but prevail in the desperate struggle at Augsburg!”
Luther might also have allowed himself to be overcome with fear, for he was left in complete ignorance of what was taking place in the diet. A Wittenberg messenger, who should have brought him forests of letters (according to his own expression), having presented himself: “Do you bring any letters?” asked Luther. “No!” “How are those gentlemen?” “Well!” Luther, grieved at such silence, returned and shut himself up in his chamber.
Erelong there appeared a courier on horseback carrying despatches from the elector to Torgau. “Do you bring me any letters?” asked Luther, “No!” “How are those gentlemen?” continued he, fearfully. “Well!” “This is strange,” thought the reformer.
A wagon having left Coburg laden with flour (for they were almost in want of provisions at Augsburg), Luther impatiently awaited the return of the driver; but he returned empty. Luther then began to revolve the gloomiest thoughts in his mind, not doubting that they were concealing some misfortune from him. At last another individual, Jobst Nymptzen, having arrived from Augsburg, Luther rushed anew towards him, with his usual question: “Do you bring me any letters?” He waited trembling for the reply. “No!” “And how are those gentlemen?” “Well!” The reformer withdrew, a prey to anger and to fear.
Then Luther opened his Bible, and to console himself for the silence of men, conversed with God. There were some passages of Scripture in particular that he read continually. We point them out below. He did more; he wrote with his own hand many declarations of Scripture over the doors and windows, and on the walls of the castle.
In one place were these words from the 118th Psalm: I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord. In another, those of the 12th chapter of Proverbs: The way of the wicked seduceth them; and over his bed, this passage from the 4th Psalm: I will both lay me down in peace and sleep; for thou, O Lord, only makest me dwell in safety. Never perhaps did man so environ himself with the promises of the Lord, or so dwell in the atmosphere of his Word and live by his breath, as Luther at Coburg.
At length letters came. “If the times in which we live were not opposed to it, I should have imaged some revenge,” wrote Luther to Jonas; “but prayer checked my 132
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century anger, and anger checked my prayer. I am delighted at that tranquil mind which God gives our prince. As for Melancthon, it is his philosophy that tortures him, and nothing else. For our cause is in the very hands of Him who can say with unspeakable dignity: No one shall pluck it out of my hands. I would not have it in our hands, and it would not be desirable that it were so. I have had many things in my hands, and I have lost them all; but whatever I have been able to place in “God’s, I still possess.”
On learning that Melancthon’s anguish still continued, Luther wrote to him; and these are words that should be preserved:—
“Grace and peace in Christ! in Christ, I say, and not in the world, Amen. I hate with exceeding hatred those extreme cares which consume you. If the cause is unjust, abandon it; if the cause is just, why should be belie the promises of Him who commands us to sleep without fear? Can the devil do more than kill us? Christ will not be wanting to the work of justice and of truth. He lives; he reigns; what fear, then, can we have? God is powerful to upraise his cause if it is overthrown, to make it proceed if it remains motionless, and if we are not worthy of it, he will do it by others.
“I have received your Apology, and I cannot understand what you mean, when you ask what we must concede to the papists. We have already conceded too much.
Night and day I meditate on this affair, turning it over and over, diligently searching the Scriptures, and the conviction of the truth of our doctrine every day becomes stronger in my mind. With the help of God, I will not permit a single letter of all that we have said to be torn from us.
“The issue of this affair torments you, because you cannot understand it. But if you could, I would not have the least share in it. God has put it in a ‘common place,’
that you will not find either in your rhetoric or in your philosophy: that place is called Faith. It is that in which subsist all things that we can neither understand nor see.
Whoever wishes to touch them, as you do, will have tears for his sole reward.
“If Christ is not with us, where is he in the whole universe? If we are not the Church, where, I pray, is the Church? Is it the Dukes of Bavaria, is it Ferdinand, is it the pope, is it the Turk, who is the Church? If we have not the Word of God, who is it that possesses it? “Only we must have faith, lest the cause of faith should be found to be without faith.
“If we fall, Christ falls with us, that is to say, the Master of the world. I would rather fall with Christ, than remain standing with Caesar.”
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century Thus wrote Luther. The faith which animated him flowed from him like torrents of living water. He was indefatigable: in a single day he wrote to Melancthon, Spalatin, Brentz, Agricola, and John Frederick, and they were letters full of life. He was not alone in praying, speaking, and believing. At the same moment, the evangelical Christians exhorted one another everywhere to prayer. Such was the arsenal in which the weapons were forged that the confessors of Christ wielded before the Diet of Augsburg.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century CHAPTER 7
The 25th June 1530—The Palatine Chapel—Recollections and Contrast—The Confession—Prologue—Justification—The Church—Free Will and Works—Faith—
Interest of the Hearers—The Princes become Preachers—The Confession—Abuses—
Church and State—The two Governments—Epilogue—Argumentation—Prudence—
Church and State—The Sword—Moderate Tone of the Confession—Its Defects—A New Baptism
At length the 25th June arrived. This was destined to be the greatest day of the Reformation, and one of the most glorious in the history of Christianity and of mankind.
As the chapel of the Palatine Palace, where the emperor had resolved to hear the Confession, could contain only about two hundred persons, before three o’clock a great crowd was to be seen surrounding the building and thronging the court, hoping by this means to catch a few words; and many having gained entrance to the chapel, all were turned out except those who were, at the least, councillors to the princes.
Charles took his seat on the throne. The electors or their representatives were on his right and left hand; after them, the other princes and states of the empire. The legate had refused to appear in this solemnity, lest he should seem by his presence to authorise the reading of the Confession.
Then stood up John elector of Saxony, with his son John Frederick, Philip landgrave of Hesse, the Margrave George of Brandenburg, Wolfgang prince of Anhalt, Ernest duke of Brunswick-Luneburg, and his brother Francis, and last of all the deputies of Nuremberg and Reutlingen. Their air was animated and their features radiant with joy. The apologies of the early Christians, of Tertullian and Justin Martyr, hardly reached in writing the sovereigns to whom they were addressed. But now, to hear the new apology of resuscitated
Christianity, behold that puissant emperor, whose sceptre, stretching far beyond the Columns of Hercules, reaches the utmost limits of the world, his brother the King of the Romans, with electors, princes, prelates, deputies, ambassadors, all of whom desire to destroy the Gospel, but who are constrained by an invisible power to listen, and, by that very listening, to honour the Confession!
One thought was involuntarily present in the minds of the spectators,—the recollection of the Diet of Worms. Only nine years before, a poor monk stood alone for 135
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century this same cause in a hall of the town-house at Worms, in presence of the empire. And now in his stead behold the foremost of the electors, princes, and cities! What a victory is declared by this simple fact! No doubt Charles himself cannot escape from this recollection.
The emperor, seeing the Protestants stand up, motioned them to sit down; and then the two chancellors of the elector, Bruck and Bayer, advanced to the middle of the chapel, and stood before the throne, holding in their hands, the former the Latin and the other the German copy of the Confession. The emperor required the Latin copy to be read. “We are Germans,” said the Elector of Saxony, “and on German soil; I hope therefore your majesty will allow us to speak German.” If the Confession had been read in Latin, a language unknown to most of the princes, the general effect would have been lost. This was another means of shutting the mouth of the Gospel.
The emperor complied with the elector’s demand.
Bayer then began to read the evangelical Confession, slowly, seriously, distinctly, with a clear, strong, and sonorous voice, which re-echoed under the arched roof of the chapel, and carried even to the outside this great testimony paid to the truth.
“Most serene, most mighty, and invincible emperor and most gracious lord,” said he, “we who appear in your presence, declare ourselves ready to confer amicably with you on the fittest means of restoring one sole, true, and same faith, since it is for one sole and same Christ that we fight. And in case that these religious dissensions cannot be settled amicably, we then offer to your majesty to explain our cause in a general, free, and christian council.”
This prologue being ended, Bayer confessed the Holy Trinity, conformably with the Nicene Council, original and hereditary sin, “which bringeth eternal death to all who are not born again,” and the incarnation of the Son, “very God and very man.”
“We teach, moreover,” continued he, “that we cannot be justified before God by our own strength, our merits, or our works; but that we are justified freely for Christ’s sake through faith, when we believe that our sins are forgiven in virtue of Christ, who by his death has made satisfaction for our sins: this faith is the righteousness that God imputeth to the sinner.
“But we teach, at the same time, that this faith ought to bear good fruits, and that we must do all the good works commanded by God, for the love of God, and not by their means to gain the grace of God.”
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century The Protestants next declared their faith in the Christian Church, “which is,”
said they, “the assembly of all true believers and all the saints,” in the midst of whom there are, nevertheless, in this life, many false Christians, hypocrites even, and manifest sinners; and they added, “that it is sufficient for the real unity of the Church that they agree on the doctrine of the Gospel and the administration of the sacraments, without the rites and ceremonies instituted by men being everywhere the same.” They proclaimed the necessity of baptism, and declared “that the body and blood of Christ are really present and administered in the Lord’s Supper to those who partake of it.”
The chancellor then successively confessed the faith of the evangelical Christians touching confession, penance, the nature of the sacraments, the government of the Church, ecclesiastical ordinances, political government, and the last judgment. “As regards free will,” continued he, “we confess that man’s will has a certain liberty of accomplishing civil justice, and of loving the things that reason comprehends; that man can do the good that is within the sphere of nature—plough his fields, eat, drink, have a friend, put on a coat, build a house, take a wife, feed cattle, exercise a calling; as also he can, of his own movement, do evil, kneel before an idol, and commit murder.
But we maintain that without the Holy Ghost he cannot do what is righteous in the sight of God.”
Then, returning to the grand doctrine of the Reformation, and recalling to mind that the doctors of the pope “have never ceased impelling the faithful to puerile and useless works, as the custom of chaplets, invocations of saints, monastic vows, processions, fasts, feast-days, brotherhoods,” the Protestants added, that as for themselves, while urging the practice of truly christian works, of which little had been said before their time, “they taught that man is justified by faith alone; not by that faith which is a simple knowledge of the history, and which wicked men and even devils possess, but by a faith which believes not only the history, but also the effect of the history; which believes that through Christ we obtain grace; which sees that in Christ we have a merciful Father; which knows this God; which calls upon him; in a word, which is not without God, as the heathen are.”
“Such,” said Bayer, “is a summary of the doctrine professed in our churches, by which it may be seen that this doctrine is by no means opposed to Scripture, to the universal Church, nor even to the Romish Church, such as the doctors describe it to us; and since it is so, to reject us as heretics is an offence against unity and charity.”
Here terminated the first part of the Confession, the aim of which was to explain the evangelical doctrine. The chancellor read with so distinct a voice, that the crowd 137
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century which was unable to enter the hall, and which filled the court and all the approaches of the episcopal palace, did not lose a word. This reading produced the most marvellous effect on the princes who thronged the chapel. Jonas watched every change in their countenances, and there beheld interest, astonishment, and even approbation depicted by turns.
“The adversaries imagine they have done a wonderful thing by forbidding the preaching of the Gospel,” wrote Luther to the elector; “and they do not see, poor creatures! that by the reading of the Confession in the presence of the diet, there has been more preaching than in the sermons of ten doctors. Exquisite subtlety!
admirable expedient! Master Agricola and the other ministers are reduced to silence; but in their place appear the Elector of Saxony and the other princes and lords, who preach before his imperial majesty and the members of the whole empire, freely, to their beard, and before their noses. Yes, Christ is in the diet, and he does not keep silence: the Word of God cannot be bound. They forbid it in the pulpit, and are forced to hear it in the palace; poor ministers cannot announce it, and great princes proclaim it; the servants are forbidden to listen to it, and their masters are compelled to hear it; they will have nothing to do with it during the whole course of the diet, and they are forced to submit to hear more in one day than is heard ordinarily in a whole year When all else is silent, the very stones cry out, as says our Lord Jesus Christ.”
That part of the Confession destined to point out errors and abuses still remained.
Bayer continued: he explained and demonstrated the doctrine of the two kinds; he attacked the compulsory celibacy of priests, maintained that the Lord’s Supper had been changed into a regular fair, in which it was merely a question of buying and selling, and that it had been re-established in its primitive purity by the Reformation, and was celebrated in the evangelical churches with entirely new devotion and gravity. He declared that the sacrament was administered to no one who had not first made confession of his faults, and he quoted this expression of Chrysostom: “Confess thyself to God the Lord, thy real Judge; tell thy sin, not with the tongue, but in thy conscience and in thy heart.”
Bayer next came to the precepts on the distinction of meats and other Roman usages. “Celebrate such a festival,” said he; “repeat such a prayer, or keep such a fast; be dressed in such a manner, and so many other ordinances of men—this is what is now styled a spiritual and christian life; while the good works prescribed by God, as those of a father of a family who toils to support his wife, his sons, and his daughters—
of a mother who brings children into the world, and takes care of them—of a prince or of a magistrate who governs his subjects, are looked upon as secular things, and of 138
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century an imperfect nature.” As for monastic vows in particular, he represented that, as the pope could give a dispensation from them, those vows ought therefore to be abolished.
The last article of the Confession treated of the authority of the bishops: powerful princes crowned with the episcopal mitre were there; the Archbishops of Mentz, Cologne, Salzburg, and Bremen, with the Bishops of Bamberg, Wurzburg, Eichstadt, Worms, Spires, Strasburg, Augsburg, Constance, Coire, Passau, Liege, Trent, Brixen, and of Lebus and Ratzburg, fixed their eyes on the humble confessor. He fearlessly continued, and energetically protesting against that confusion of Church and State which had characterised the Middle Ages, he called for the distinction and independence of the two societies.
“Many,” said he, “have unskillfully confounded the episcopal and the temporal power; and from this confusion have resulted great wars, revolts, and seditions. It is for this reason, and to reassure men’s consciences, that we find ourselves constrained to establish the difference, which exists between the power of the Church and the power of the sword.
“We therefore teach that the power of the keys or of the bishops is, conformably with the Word of the Lord, a commandment emanating from God, to preach the Gospel, to remit or retain sins, and to administer the Sacraments. This power has reference only to eternal goods, is exercised only by the minister of the Word, and does not trouble itself with political administration. The political administration, on the other hand, is busied with everything else but the Gospel. The magistrate protects, not souls, but bodies and temporal possessions. He defends them against all attacks from without, and, by making use of the sword and of punishment, compels men to observe civil justice and peace.
“For this reason we must take particular care not to mingle the power of the Church with the power of the State. The power of the Church ought never to invade an office that is foreign to it; for Christ himself said: My kingdom is not of this world.
And again: Who made me a judge over you? St. Paul said to the Philippians: Our citizenship is in heaven. And to the Corinthians: The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God.
“It is thus that we distinguish the two governments and the two powers, and that we honour both as the most excellent gifts that God has given here on earth.
“The duty of the bishops is therefore to preach the Gospel, to forgive sins, and to exclude from the Christian Church all who rebel against the Lord, but without human 139
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century power, and solely by the Word of God. If the bishops act thus, the churches ought to be obedient to them, according to this declaration of Christ: Whoever heareth you, heareth me.
“But if the bishops teach anything that is contrary to the Gospel, then the churches have an order from God which forbids them to obey (Matthew 7:15;Galatians 1:8;2 Corinthians 13:8, 10). And St. Augustine himself, in his letter against Pertilian, writes: ‘We must not obey the catholic bishops, if they go astray, and teach anything contrary to the canonical Scriptures of God.’“
After some remarks on the ordinances and traditions of the Church, Bayer came to the epilogue of the Confession. “It is not from hatred that we have spoken,” added he, “nor to insult anyone; but we have explained the doctrines that we maintain to be essential, in order that it may be understood that we admit of neither dogma nor ceremony which is contrary to the Holy Scriptures, and to the usage of the universal Church.”
Bayer then ceased to read. He had spoken for two hours: the silence and serious attention of the assembly were no once disturbed. This Confession of Augsburg will ever remain one of the masterpieces of the human mind enlightened by the Spirit of God.
The language that had been adopted, while it was perfectly natural, was the result of a profound study of character. These princes, these warriors, these politicians who were sitting in the Palatine Palace, entirely ignorant as they were of divinity, easily understood the Protestant doctrine; for it was not explained to them in the style of the schools, but in that of everyday life, and with a simplicity and clearness that rendered all misunderstanding impossible.
At the same time the power of argumentation was so much the more remarkable, as it was the more concealed. At one time Melancthon (for it was really he who spoke through the mouth of Bayer) was content to quote a single passage of Scripture or of the Fathers in favour of the doctrine he maintained; and at another he proved his thesis so much the more strongly, that he appeared only to be declaring it. With a single stroke he pointed out the sad consequences that would follow the rejection of the faith he professed, or with one word showed its importance for the prosperity of the Church; so that, while listening to him, the most violent enemies were obliged to acknowledge to themselves that there was really something to say in favour of the new sect.
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History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century To this force of reasoning the apology added a prudence no less remarkable.
Melancthon, while declining with firmness the errors attributed to his party, did not even appear to feel the injustice of these erroneous imputations; and while pointing out those of Popery, he did not say expressly they were those of his adversaries; thus carefully avoiding everything that might irritate their minds. In this he showed himself wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove.
But the most admirable thing of all is the fidelity with which the Confession explains the doctrines most essential to salvation. Rome is accustomed to represent the reformers as the creators of the Protestant doctrines; but it is not in the sixteenth century that we must look for the days of that creation. A bright track of light, of which Wickliffe and Augustine mark the most salient points, carries us back to the apostolic age: it was then that shone in all their brilliancy the creative days of evangelical truth. Yet it is true (and if this is what Rome means, we fully concur in the idea), never since the time of St. Paul had the Christian doctrine appeared with so much beauty, depth, and life, as in the days of the Reformation.
Among these doctrines, that of the Church, which had been so long disfigured, appeared at this time in all its native purity. With what wisdom, in particular, the confessors of Augsburg protest against that confusion of religion and politics which, since the deplorable epoch of Constantine, had changed the kingdom of God into an earthly and carnal institution! Undoubtedly what the Confession stigmatizes with the greatest energy is the intrusion of the Church into the affairs of the State; but can it be thought that it was to approve the intrusion of the State in Church affairs?
The evil of the Middle Ages was the having enslaved the State to the Church, and the confessors of Augsburg rose like one man to combat it. The evil of the three centuries which have passed away since then, is to have subjected the Church to the State; and we may believe that Luther and Melancthon would have found against this disorder thunders no less powerful. What they attack in a general sense, is the confusion of the two societies; what they demand, is their independence, I do not say their separation, for separation of Church and State was quite unknown to the reformers. If the Augsburg confessors were unwilling that things from above should monopolise those of the earth, they would have been still less willing for things of earth to oppress those from heaven.
There is a particular application of this principle, which the Confession points out. It wills the bishops should reprimand those who obey wicked- ness, “but without human power, and solely by the Word of God.” It therefore rejects the use of the sword in the chastisement of heretics. This we see is a primitive principle, fundamental and 141
History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century essential to the Reformation, as the contrary doctrine is a primitive principle, fundamental and essential to the Papacy. If among Protestants we find some writing, or even some example opposed to this, it is but an isolated fact, which cannot invalidate the official principles of the reform—it is one of those exceptions which always serve to confirm the rule.
Finally, the Augsburg Confession does not usurp the rights of the Word of God; it desires to be its handmaid and not its rival; it does not found, it does not regulate the faith, but simply professes it. “Our churches teach,” it says; and it will be remembered that Luther considered it only as a sermon preached by princes and kings. Had it desired more, as has since been maintained, by that very circumstance it would have been nullified.
Was, however, the Confession able to follow in all things the exact path of truth?
We may be permitted to doubt it.
It professes not to separate from the teaching of the Catholic Church, and even from that of the Romish Church—by which is no doubt signified the ancient Roman Church—and rejects the popish particularism which, for about eight centuries, imprisoned men’s consciences. The Confession, however, seems overlaid with superstitious fears when there is any question of deviating from the views entertained by some of the Fathers of the Church, of breaking the toils of the hierarchy, and of acting as regards Rome, without blameable forbearance. This, at least, is what its author, Melancthon, professes. “We do not put forward any dogma,”