CHAPTER II

A Foreign Prince—Advice of Politicians—Conference between the Confessor and the Elector’s Chancellor—Uselessness of these Manœuvres—Aleander’s activity—Luther’s Sayings—Charles gives in to the Pope. But all this was of no importance in the eyes of politicians. How high soever the idea which Charles entertained of the imperial dignity, it was not in Germany that his interests and policy centred. He was always a Duke of Burgundy, who, to several sceptres, added the first crown of Christendom. Strange! at the moment of her thorough transformation, Germany selected for her head a foreign prince in whose eyes her wants and tendencies were only of secondary importance. The religious movement, it is true, was not indifferent to the young emperor; but it was important in his eyes only in so far as it menaced the pope. War between Charles and France was inevitable, and its chief seat was necessarily to be in Italy. An alliance with the pope thus became every day more necessary to the schemes of Charles. He would fain have either detached Frederick from Luther, or satisfied the pope without offending Frederick. Several of those about him manifested, in regard to the affairs of the Augustin monk, that cold disdain which politicians usually affect when religion is in question. “Let us avoid extremes,” said they. “Let us trammel Luther by negotiations, and reduce him to silence by some kind of concession. The true course is to stifle the embers, not stir them up. If the monk is caught in the net, we have gained the day. By accepting a compromise he will be interdicted and undone. For appearance some externa reforms will be devised; the Elector will be satisfied; the pope will be gained, and affairs will resume their ordinary course.”

Such was the project of the confidential counsellors of the emperor. The doctors of Wittemberg seem to have divined this new policy. “They are trying in secret to gain men’s minds,” said Melancthon, “and are working in darkness.” John Glapio, the confessor of Charles V,—a man of rank, a skilful courtier, and an intriguing monk,—undertook the execution of the project. Glapio possessed the entire confidence of Charles, who (in accordance with Spanish manners) left to him almost entirely the management of matters relating to religion. As soon as Charles was appointed emperor, Leo X had assiduously endeavoured to gain Glapio by favours to which the confessor was strongly alive.² There was no way in which he could make a better return to the pope’s kindness than by reducing heresy to silence, and he accordingly set about the task.

One of the Elector’s counsellors was Chancellor Gregory Bruck, or Pontanus, a man of great intelligence, decision, and courage, who knew more of theology than all the doctors, and whose wisdom was a match for the wiles of the monks at the emperor’s court. Glapio, aware of the influence of the chancellor, asked an interview with him; and coming up to him as if he had been the friend of the Reformer, said to him, with an expression of good will, “I was delighted when, on reading the first productions of Luther, I found him a vigorous stock, which had pushed forth noble branches, and which gave promise to the Church of the most precious fruits. Several before him, it is true, made the same discoveries: still none but he has had the noble courage to publish the truth without fear. But when I read his book on the Captivity of Babylon, I felt as if beaten and bruised from head to foot.” “I don’t believe,” added the monk, “that Luther acknowledges himself to be the author. I do not find in it either his style or his science.…” After some discussion, the confessor continued, “Introduce me to the Elector, and I will, in your presence, explain to him the errors of Luther.” The chancellor replied, “That the business of the Diet did not leave any leisure to his Highness, who, moreover, did not meddle with the affair.” The monk was vexed when his request was denied. “By the way,” said the chancellor, “as you say there is no evil without a remedy, will you explain yourself?”

Assuming a confidential air, the confessor replied: “The emperor earnestly desires to see such a man as Luther reconciled to the Church, for his books (before the publication of his treatise, ‘On the Captivity of Babylon,’) rather pleased his Majesty. … It must doubtless have been Luther’s rage at the bull which dictated that work. Let him declare that he did not wish to disturb the peace of the Church, and the learned of all nations will rally around him.… Procure me an audience of his Highness.” The chancellor waited upon Frederick. The Elector being well aware that any kind of recantation was impossible replied, “Tell the confessor that I cannot comply with his request, but do you continue the conference.”

Glapio received this message with great demonstrations of respect; and changing the attack, said, “Let the Elector name some confidential persons to deliberate on this affair.”

Chancellor.—“The Elector does not profess to defend the cause of Luther.”

Confessor.—“Very well, do you at least discuss it with me.… Jesus Christ is my witness, that all I do is from love to the Church, and to Luther who has opened so many hearts to the truth.” The chancellor having refused to undertake what was the Reformer’s own task, was preparing to retire.

“Stay!” said the monk to him.

Chancellor.—“What then is to be done?”

Confessor.—“Let Luther deny that he is the author of the Captivity of Babylon.”

Chancellor.—“But the papal bull condemns all his other works.”

Confessor.—“It is because of his obstinacy. If he retracts his book, the pope, in the plenitude of his power, can easily restore him to favour. What hopes may we not cherish now that we have so excellent an emperor!…”

Perceiving that these words made some impression on the chancellor, the monk hastened to add—“Luther always insists on arguing from the Bible. The Bible!… it is like wax, and may be stretched and bent at pleasure. I undertake to find in the Bible opinions still more extraordinary than those of Luther. He is mistaken when he converts all the sayings of Jesus into commandments.” Then, wishing to work also on the fears of the chancellor, he added, “What would happen if to-day or to-morrow the Emperor were to try the effect of arms?… Think of it.” He then allowed Pontanus to retire. The confessor prepared new snares. “After living ten years with him,” said Erasmus, “we should not know him.”

“What an excellent book that of Luther’s on ‘Christian Liberty,’ ” said he to the chancellor when he saw him a few days after—“what wisdom! what talent! what intellect! it is just the style in which a true scholar ought to write. Let unexceptionable persons be chosen on either side, and let the pope and Luther refer to their judgment. No doubt Luther has the best of it on several articles. I will speak to the emperor himself on the subject. Believe me, I do not say these things to you on my own suggestion. I have told the emperor that God will chastise him, as well as all the princes, if the Church, which is the spouse of Jesus Christ, is not washed from all the stains by which she is polluted. I have added that God himself had raised up Luther, and had ordered him to rebuke men sharply, using him as a rod to punish the sins of the world.”² The chancellor hearing these words, (they convey the impressions of the time, and show what was then thought of Luther even by his opponents,) thought it right to express his astonishment that more respect was not shown to his master. “Deliberations on this subject,” said he, “are daily carried on before the emperor, and the Elector is not invited to them. It seems strange that the emperor, who owes him some gratitude, excludes him from his counsels.”

Confessor.—“I have been present only once at these deliberations, and I have heard the emperor resist the solicitations of the nuncios. Five years hence it will be seen how much Charles shall have done for the reformation of the Church.”

“The Elector,” replied Pontanus, “is ignorant of the emperor’s intentions: He should be invited that he may hear them stated.” The confessor answered with a deep sigh, “I call God to witness how ardently I desire to see the Reformation of Christendom accomplished.” To lengthen out the affair, and meanwhile keep Luther’s mouth shut, was all that Glapio had in view. At all events, Luther must not come to Worms. A dead man returning from the other world, and appearing in the midst of the Diet, would not have alarmed the nuncios, and monks, and whole host of the pope, so much as the sight of the Wittemberg doctor.

“How many days does it take to come from Wittemberg to Worms?” asked the monk at the chancellor, affecting an air of indifference; then begging Pontanus to present his very humble respects to the Elector, he departed.

Such were the manœuvres of the courtiers. The firmness of Pontanus outwitted them. This upright man was immovable as a rock in all negotiations. Moreover, the Roman monks fell into the very snares which they were laying for their enemies. “The Christian,” says Luther, in his figurative language, “is like a bird fastened near a trap. The wolves and foxes go round and round, and make a dart upon it to devour it, but fall into the pit and perish, while the timid bird remains alive. Thus holy angels guard us, and devouring wolves, hypocrites, and persecutors, cannot do us any harm.” Not only were the confessor’s artifices unavailing, but, moreover, his admissions confirmed Frederick in the belief that Luther was in the right, and that it was his duty to defend him. The hearts of men became every day more inclined towards the gospel. A prior of the Dominicans proposed that the emperor, the kings of France, Spain, England, Portugal, Hungary, and Poland, the pope, and the electors, should name representatives by whom the matter should be decided. “Never,” said he, “has reference been made to the pope alone.” The general feeling became such, that it seemed impossible to condemn Luther without a hearing and regular conviction.

³

Aleander became uneasy, and displayed more than wonted energy. It is no longer merely against the Elector and Luther that he has to contend. He is horrified at the secret negotiations of the confessor, the proposition of the prior, the consent of Charles’ ministers, and the extreme coldness of Roman piety among the most devoted friends of the pope, “so that one would have thought,” says Pallavicinci, “that a torrent of ice had passed over them.” He had at length received gold and silver from Rome, and held in his hand energetic briefs addressed to the most powerful personages in the empire.⁵ Afraid that his prey might escape, he felt that now was the time to strike a decisive blow. He despatched the briefs, showered gold and silver with liberal hand, dealt out the most enticing promises, “and provided,” says the Cardinal historian, “with this triple weapon, he strove anew to turn the wavering assembly of the electors in favour of the pope.” He laboured above all to encircle the emperor with his snares. Availing himself of the differences between the Belgian and the Spanish ministers, he laid close siege to the prince. All the friends of Rome, awakened by his voice, urged young Charles with solicitations. “Every day,” wrote the Elector to his brother John, “deliberations are held against Luther: the demand is that he be put under the ban of the pope and the emperor; in all sorts of ways attempts are made to hurt him. Those who parade about with their red hats, the Romans with all their sect, labour in the task with indefatigable zeal.” In fact, Aleander urged the condemnation of the Reformer with a violence which Luther terms “marvellous fury.” The apostate nuncio,³ as Luther calls him, hurried by passion beyond the bounds of prudence, one day exclaimed, “If you mean, O Germans, to shake off the yoke of Roman obedience, we will act so, that, setting the one against the other, as an exterminating sword, you will all perish in your own blood.” “Such,” adds the Reformer, “is the pope’s method of feeding the sheep of Christ.”

Luther himself spoke a very different language. He made no demand of a personal nature. “Luther is ready,” said Melancthon, “to purchase the glory and advancement of the gospel with his life.” But he trembled at the thought of the disasters of which his death might be the signal. He saw a people led astray, and perhaps avenging his martyrdom in the blood of his enemies, especially the priests. He recoiled from the fearful responsibility. “God,” said he, “arrests the fury of his enemies; but should it break forth, … a storm will burst upon the priests similar to that which ravaged Bohemia.… I am clear of it; for I have earnestly besought the German nobility to arrest the Romans by wisdom, and not by the sword.⁶ To war upon priests, a body without courage and strength, is to war upon women and children.”

Charles did not withstand the solicitations of the nuncio. His Belgian and Spanish devotion had been developed by his preceptor Adrian, who afterwards occupied the pontifical throne. The pope had addressed a brief to him imploring him to give legal effect to the bull by an imperial edict. “In vain,” said he to him, “shall God have invested you with the sword of supreme power if you do not employ it both against infidels, and also against heretics, who are far worse than infidels.” One day, accordingly, in the beginning of February, at the moment when every thing was ready at Worms for a brilliant tournament, and after the emperor’s tent had actually been erected, the princes who were preparing to attend the fête were summoned to repair to the imperial palace. There the papal bull was read to them, and they were presented with a stringent edict enjoining the execution of it. “If you have any thing better to propose,” added the emperor in the usual form, “I am ready to hear you.”

Animated debates then began in the diet. “The monk,” wrote the deputy of one of the German free towns, “gives us a great deal to do. Some would like to crucify him, and I don’t think that he will escape: the only thing to be feared is that he may rise again on the third day.” The emperor had thought he would be able to publish his edict without opposition on the part of the States, but it was not so. Men’s minds were not prepared, and it was necessary to gain the Diet. “Convince this assembly,” said the young monarch to the nuncio. This was just what Aleander desired, and he received a promise of being admitted to the Diet on the 13th February.