1539. THE
CALL FOR THE COUNCIL OF TRENT
During
the war between the emperor and Francis, an event had happened which abated in
some degree the warmth and cordiality of friendship which had long subsisted
between the latter and the king of England.
James the fifth of Scotland, an
enterprising young prince, having heard of the emperor’s intention to invade
Provence, was so fond of showing that he did not yield to any of his ancestors
in the sincerity of his attachment to the French crown, and so eager to
distinguish himself by some military exploit, that he levied a body of troops
with an intention of leading them in person to the assistance of the king of
France. Though some unfortunate accidents prevented his carrying any troops
into France, nothing could divert him from going thither in person. Immediately
upon his landing, he hastened to Provence, but had been detained so long in his
voyage, that he came too late to have any share in the military operations, and
met the king on his return after the retreat of the Imperialists. But Francis
was so greatly pleased with his zeal, and no less with his manners and
conversation, that he could not refuse him his daughter Magdalen, whom he
demanded in marriage. It mortified Henry extremely to see a prince, of whom he
was immoderately jealous, form an alliance [Jan 1, 1537], from which he derived
such an accession of reputation as well as security. He could not, however,
with decency, oppose Francis’s bestowing his daughter upon a monarch descended
from a race of princes, the most ancient and faithful allies of the French
crown. But when James, upon the sudden death of Magdalen, demanded as his
second wife Mary of Guise, he warmly solicited Francis to deny his suit, and in
order to disappoint him, asked that lady in marriage for himself. When Francis
preferred the Scottish king’s sincere courtship to his artful and malevolent
proposal, he discovered much dissatisfaction. The pacification agreed upon at
Nice, and the familiar interview of the two rivals at Aigues-mortes, filled
Henry’s mind with new suspicions, as if Francis had altogether renounced his
friendship for the sake of new connections with the emperor.
Charles,
thoroughly acquainted with the temper of the English king, and watchful to
observe all the shiftings and caprices of his passions, thought this a favorable
opportunity of renewing his negotiations with him, which had been long broken
off. By the death of queen Catharine, whose interest the emperor could not with
decency have abandoned, the chief cause of their discord was removed; so that,
without touching upon the delicate question of her divorce, he might now take
what measures he thought most effectual for regaining Henry’s good-will. For
this purpose, he began with proposing several marriage-treaties to the king. He
offered his niece, a daughter of the king of Denmark, to Henry himself; he
demanded the princess Mary for one of the princes of Portugal, and was even
willing to receive her as the king’s illegitimate daughter. Though none of
these projected alliances ever took place, or perhaps were ever seriously
intended, they occasioned such frequent intercourse between the courts, and so
many reciprocal professions of civility and esteem, as considerably abated the
edge of Henry’s rancor against the emperor, and paved the way for that union
between them which afterwards proved so disadvantageous to the French king.
The
ambitious schemes in which the emperor had been engaged, and the wars he had
been carrying on for some years, proved, as usual, extremely favorable to the
progress of the reformation in Germany. While Charles was absent upon his
African expedition, or intent on his projects against France, his chief object
in Germany was to prevent the dissensions about religion from disturbing the
public tranquility, by granting such indulgence to the protestant princes as
might induce them to concur with his measures, or at least to hinder them from
taking part with his rival. For this reason, he was careful to secure to the
protestants the possession of all the advantages which they had gained by the
articles of pacification at Nuremberg, in the year one thousand five hundred
and thirty-two; and except some slight trouble from the proceedings of the Imperial
chamber, they met with nothing to disturb them in the exercise of their
religion, or to interrupt the successful zeal with which they propagated their
opinions.
Meanwhile
the pope continued his negotiations for convoking a general council; and though
the protestants had expressed great dissatisfaction with his intention to fix
upon Mantua as the place of meeting, he adhered obstinately to his choice,
issued a bull on the second of June, one thousand five hundred and thirty-six,
appointing it to assemble in that city on the twenty-third of May the year
following; he nominated three cardinals to preside in his name; enjoined all
Christian princes to countenance it by their authority, and invited the
prelates of every nation to attend in person.
This summons of a council, an
assembly which from its nature and intention demanded quiet times, as well as
pacific dispositions, at the very juncture when the emperor was on his march
towards France, and ready to involve a great part of Europe in the confusions
of war, appeared to every person extremely unseasonable. It was intimated,
however, to all the different courts by nuncios despatched on purpose. With an
intention to gratify the Germans, the emperor, during his residence in Rome,
had warmly solicited the pope to call a council; but being at the same time
willing to try every art in order to persuade Paul to depart from the
neutrality which he preserved between him and Francis, he sent Heldo his
vice-chancellor into Germany, along with a nuncio despatched thither,
instructing him to second all the nuncio’s representations, and to enforce them
with the whole weight of the Imperial authority.
The protestants gave them
audience at Smalkalde, [Feb, 25, 1537], where they had assembled in a body in
order to receive them. But after weighing all their arguments, they unanimously
refused to acknowledge a council summoned in the name and by the authority of
the pope alone; in which he assumed the sole right of presiding; which was to
be held in a city not only far distant from Germany, but subject to a prince,
who was a stranger to them, and closely connected with the court of Rome; and
to which their divines could not repair with safety, especially after their
doctrines had been stigmatized in the very bull of convocation with the name of
heresy. These and many other objections against the council, which appeared to
them unanswerable, they enumerated in a large manifesto, which they published in
vindication of their conduct.
Against
this the court of Rome exclaimed as a flagrant proof of their obstinacy and
presumption, and the pope still persisted in his resolution to hold the council
at the time and in the place appointed. But some unexpected difficulties being
started by the duke of Mantua, both about the right of jurisdiction over the
persons who resorted to the council, and the security of his capital amidst
such a concourse of strangers, the pope [Oct. 8, 1538], after fruitless endeavors
to adjust these, first prorogued the council for some months, and afterwards,
transferring the place of meeting to Vicenza in the Venetian territories,
appointed it to assemble on the First of May, in the following year. As neither
the emperor nor the French king, who had not then come to any accommodation,
would permit their subjects to repair thither, not a single prelate appeared on
the day prefixed, and the pope, that his authority might not become altogether
contemptible by so many ineffectual efforts to convoke that assembly, put off
the meeting by an indefinite prorogation.
But
that he might not seem to have turned his whole attention towards a reformation
which he was not able to accomplish, while he neglected that which was in his
own power, he deputed a certain number of cardinals and bishops, with full
authority to inquire into the abuses and corruptions of the Roman court; and to
propose the most effectual method of removing them. This scrutiny, undertaken
with reluctance, was carried on slowly and with remissness. All defects were
touched with a gentle hand, afraid of probing too deep, or of discovering too
much. But even by this partial examination, many irregularities were detected,
and many enormities exposed to light, while the remedies which they suggested
as most proper were either inadequate or were never applied. The report and
resolution of these deputies, though intended to be kept secret, were transmitted
by some accident into Germany, and being immediately made public, afforded
ample matter for reflection, and triumph to the protestants.
On the one hand,
they demonstrated the necessity of a reformation in the head as well as the
members of the church, and even pointed out many of the corruptions against
which Luther and his followers had remonstrated with the greatest vehemence.
They showed, on the other hand, that it was vain to expect this reformation
from ecclesiastics themselves, who, as Luther strongly expressed it, piddled at
curing warts, while they overlooked or confirmed ulcers.
The earnestness with which the emperor seemed, at first, to press their
acquiescing in the pope’s scheme of holding a council in Italy, alarmed the
protestant princes so much, that they thought it prudent to strengthen their
confederacy, by admitting several new members who solicited that privilege,
particularly the king of Denmark. Heldo, who during his residence in Germany,
had observed all the advantages which they derived from that union, endeavored
to counterbalance its effects by an alliance among the Catholic powers of the
empire. This league, distinguished by the name of Holy, was merely defensive;
and though concluded by Heldo in the emperor’s name, was afterwards disowned
by him, and subscribed by very few princes.
The
protestants soon got intelligence of this association, notwithstanding all the
endeavors of the contracting parties to conceal it; and their zeal, always apt
to suspect and to dread, even to excess, everything that seemed to threaten
religion, instantly took the alarm, as if the emperor had been just ready to
enter upon the execution of some formidable plan for the extirpation of their
opinions. In order to disappoint this, they held frequent consultations, they
courted the kings of France and England with great assiduity, and even began to
think of raising the respective contingents both in men and money with which
they were obliged to furnish by the treaty of Smalkalde. But it was not long
before they were convinced that these apprehensions were without foundation,
and that the emperor, to whom repose was absolutely necessary, after efforts so
much beyond his strength in the war with France, had no thoughts of disturbing
the tranquility of Germany. As a proof of this, at an interview with the protestant
princes in Frankfort [April 19], his ambassadors agreed that all concessions in
their favor, particularly those contained in the pacification of Nuremberg,
should continue in force for fifteen months; that during this period all
proceedings of the Imperial chamber against them should be suspended; that a
conference should be held by a few divines of each party, in order to discuss
the points in controversy, and to propose articles of accommodation which
should be laid before the next diet. Though the emperor, that he might not
irritate the pope, who remonstrated against the first part of this agreement as
impolitic, and against the latter, as an impious encroachment upon his
prerogative, never formally ratified this convention, it was observed with
considerable exactness, and greatly strengthened the basis of that
ecclesiastical liberty for which the protestants contended.
A
few days after the convention at Frankfort, George duke of Saxony died [April
24], and his death was an event of great advantage to the reformation. That
prince, the head of the Albertine, or younger branch of the Saxon family,
possessed, as marquis of Misnia and Thuringia, extensive territories,
comprehending Dresden, Leipzig, and other cities now the most considerable in
the electorate. From the first dawn of the reformation, he had been its enemy
as avowedly as the electoral princes were its protectors, and had carried on
his opposition not only with all the zeal flowing from religious prejudices,
but with a virulence inspired by personal antyipathy to Luther, and embittered
by the domestic animosity subsisting between him and the other branch of his
family. By his death without issue, his succession fell to his brother Henry,
whose attachment to the protestant religion surpassed, if possible, that of his
predecessor to popery. Henry no sooner took possession of his new dominions,
than, disregarding a clause in George’s will, dictated by his bigotry, whereby
he bequeathed all his territories to the emperor and king of the Romans, if his
brother should attempt to make any innovation in religion, he invited some protestant
divines, and among them Luther himself, to Leipzig. By their advice and
assistance, he overturned in a few weeks the whole system of ancient rites,
establishing the full exercise of the reformed religion with the universal
applause of his subjects, who had long wished for this change, which the
authority of their duke alone had hitherto prevented. This revolution delivered
the protestants from the danger to which they were exposed by having an
inveterate enemy situated in the middle of their territories; and they had now
the satisfaction of seeing that the possessions of the princes and cities
attached to their cause, extended in one great and almost unbroken line from
the shore of the Baltic to the banks of the Rhine.
THE SPANISH PRIDE AT TEST