Charles V: The Young Emperor
Another actor now enters the scene who for thirty years would play an effective part in the quarrels between theologians and states, and we shall meet him often in the chapters ahead. Charles V, the future emperor, inherited his crowns together with a sorrowful life. By his father's side he descended from Emperor Maximilian and Mary of Burgundy, daughter of Charles the Bold; by his mother's, from Ferdinand and Isabella. His father, Philip the Handsome, became king of Castile at twenty-six and died at twenty-eight. His mother, Joanna the Mad, went insane when Charles was six, and outlived her son's rise by many years (the book says until he was fifty-five). Charles was born at Ghent, the capital of Flanders, on February 24, 1500, grew up at Brussels, and kept his Flemish habits and speech until his final retirement in Spain. Neither Spain nor Germany ever fully forgave him for being a foreigner. He learned German, Spanish, Italian and French, and, as the book puts it, the silence of five languages (a phrase that is unclear in the source). Adrian of Utrecht tried, with small success, to teach him philosophy and instilled in him orthodox Christian belief. Even so, in his middle years he seems to have been drawn to the skepticism of his Flemish counselors and courtiers, who, following Erasmus, turned away from rigid church dogma. Some churchmen were uneasy at the religious freedom that spread in his domains. Charles, while trying to live piously and chastely, also learned the arts of war, read the memoirs of Philippe de Commines, the French historian and statesman, and from childhood acquainted himself with the secrets of politics and the unscrupulous principles of statecraft.
After his father's death in 1506 Charles inherited Flanders, Holland and Franche-Comté, with a claim to Burgundy. At fifteen he took over the government and applied himself earnestly to administration. At sixteen he became Charles I, king of Spain, Sicily, Sardinia, Naples and Spain's American colonies. At nineteen he set his heart on the empire. Francis I of France, who coincidentally had the same ambition, had won over the electors with bribes and gifts. But Charles outbid him with 850,000 florins (1519). To raise so large a sum he had to borrow 543,000 florins from the Fugger house (the book's figures). From then on Charles and the Fuggers relied on each other. When Charles delayed repayment, Jakob Fugger II wrote him a sharp note: it is plain to all that Your Majesty could not have gained the glory of the empire without my help, which I can prove by the written testimony of all the delegates; I never sought personal gain; with the utmost respect I ask Your Majesty to order that the loan, with interest, be repaid at once. Charles repaid part of the debt by assigning the customs revenue of the port of Antwerp to the Fuggers. Later, when the Turkish invasion of Hungary had ruined them, he saved the family from collapse by granting them the right to work Spanish mines. From then on the keys to many problems of political history lay in the hands of the bankers.
At nineteen this young man ruled central and western Europe except England, France, Portugal and the Papal States, yet his health was poor, and that weakness intensified the upheavals of his time. Short and slender, pale, with an agreeable face, a sharp aquiline nose, a combative chin, a weak voice and a dignified manner, Charles was a kind and gentle young man, but he soon learned that statecraft demands silence, patience and distance from the people. After meeting him in 1520, Aleander reported to Leo X that the prince was wiser and more prudent than his age, and that what lay in his mind was more than his face revealed. Apart from his judgment of men, which is half of statecraft, he had no great gifts of intellect. He rarely met crises head-on; laziness of body and mind sapped his drive, except when an unusual situation demanded serious decision. Then he faced it with sudden and stubborn resolve. Skill and competence he acquired only through experience.
Why the Emperor Hesitated
Charles V, a man of his century, set out on October 23, 1520, for Aachen, the capital of Charlemagne, to be crowned. The elector Frederick, on his way to the coronation, was held back at Cologne by an attack of gout. There Aleander again asked him to arrest and imprison Luther.
Frederick summoned Erasmus for advice. Erasmus, while supporting Luther, reminded him that the Church was in a sorry state and that it was not right to stop men who devoted themselves to reforming her. When Frederick asked what Luther's basic errors were, Erasmus replied that he had made two: he had attacked the pope's crown and the monks' bellies. Asked his view of the bull, Erasmus said it did not fit Leo's magnanimity. After this consultation Frederick told the papal envoy that, since Luther had appealed, he could not be arrested before the outcome of the proceedings was clear.
The emperor's answer was the same. He had promised the electors that, if chosen, he would not let any German be condemned on German soil without a fair hearing. Even so, given his position toward the Church's opponents, he had to be cautious: his kingship in Spain was firmer than his rule over Germany, which resisted any centralized government, and the Spanish clergy would not obey a king who tolerated enemies of the Church. War with France over Milan was also coming, and the pope's backing was worth an army to him. Many threads bound the Holy Roman Empire to the papacy, and the decline of one would hurt the other. He could not govern his vast, scattered lands without the Church's moral support, especially since he had put high offices in the hands of clergy. He also needed the Church's financial and spiritual aid to defend Hungary from the Turks.
These considerations, more than the turmoil caused by the defiant German monk, led Charles to call the imperial Diet at Worms. But in the assembly of nobles, clergy and delegates of the free cities (January 27, 1521), the chief subject of debate became Luther's revolt. The forces that for centuries had been preparing the ground for reform appeared in one of the most striking scenes in European history. A Catholic historian relates that a great crowd of German nobles admired Luther's revolt and supported him. Aleander himself wrote that all Germany had taken up arms against Rome, that the whole world demanded a council on German soil, that people mocked papal bulls and many refused to take part in the rite of indulgence, that Luther's portrait was painted with a halo and the people kissed it, and that these pictures sold so quickly he could not get even one. When he appeared in the street, he said, the Germans put their hands on their swords and ground their teeth. He hoped the pope would not withhold full absolution from him and, if some misfortune befell him, would look after his brothers and sisters.
A flood of tracts against the pope kept public feeling at a high pitch. Their number grew so great that Aleander angrily declared not even a single wagon could hold these shameful pages. Meanwhile Ulrich von Hutten, from Sickingen's fortress at Ebernburg, only a few kilometers from Worms, issued a fiery manifesto against the German clergy, telling them to be gone, how dared they spend on luxury funds collected for religion while honest men starved, and asking whether they did not see the breeze of freedom that had begun to blow.
Luther's growing influence led Jean Glapion, the emperor's Franciscan confessor, to approach George Spalatin, Frederick's chaplain and secretary, hoping for compromise. He praised Luther's earlier writings but said the Babylonian Captivity had fallen on his head like a hammer. Glapion pointed out that no system of belief can rest on Scripture alone, because Scripture is like wax that anyone can stretch to his liking. He admitted the Church needed prompt reform and had in fact warned his emperor that God would punish him and all the princes who did not free the Church from proud abuses. He promised that Charles would undertake basic reforms within five years, and still believed that if Luther dropped his views, compromise was possible. But Luther, informed of these overtures at Wittenberg, refused it.
Luther's Journey to Worms
On March 3 Aleander proposed that the Diet immediately condemn Luther. The Diet refused, saying it could not vote a condemnation before hearing him. Charles therefore summoned Luther to Worms to defend his ideas and writings, and wrote to him that he need not fear violence, since he would have the emperor's protection. Luther's friends, recalling the safe-conduct Emperor Sigismund had given Hus, tried to keep him from accepting. Adrian of Utrecht, now Cardinal of Tortosa and soon to be pope, asked his former pupil the emperor to withdraw his promise of protection, arrest Luther and send him to Rome.
Luther left Wittenberg on April 2. At Erfurt a great crowd, among them forty university professors, welcomed him as a hero. As he neared Worms, Spalatin hurried a message telling him not to enter the city and to go back to Wittenberg at once. Luther replied that though there were as many devils in Worms as tiles on the roofs, he would not refuse to appear. Near Worms a band of knights met him and escorted him to the city (April 16). The news of his arrival had spread, and some two thousand townspeople surrounded his carriage as he came in. Aleander writes that all the people came out to see him and that his reception made them forget the presence of Charles in the city.
April 17: The First Hearing
On April 17 Luther, in his monk's habit, appeared before an assembly of the emperor, six electors, a crowd of princes, nobles, city delegates and church dignitaries, and Girolamo Aleander with the official documents and powers the pope had given him. On a table near Luther lay his books. Johann von der Ecken, not the Eck who debated at Leipzig but the official of the archbishop of Trier, asked him whether he had written these books and whether he was ready to retract all the heresies in them. Luther, somewhat overawed before the emperor and church authorities, answered in a low, hesitant voice that the books were his, but that for the second question he asked the Diet for time to think a little longer.
Charles gave him one day. On returning to his lodging, Luther received a message from Hutten urging him to stand firm. A few delegates also contacted him in secret and encouraged him to hold to his beliefs. Many had evidently seen that Luther's final answer would mark the beginning of a turn in world history.
April 18: Here Is My Answer
Next day Martin appeared before the Diet with firmer resolve. The crowd in the hall was so dense that even the electors struggled to reach their seats, and many stood. The official asked again whether he would retract all or part of his writings. Luther replied that his objections to the Church's abuses were, by general admission, justified. The emperor cut in with a cry of "No!" But Luther went on, now addressing Charles himself: if he retracted on this point, he would open the way to greater tyranny and impiety, and if it were shown that he had done so at the request of the Holy Roman Emperor, the consequences would be worse still. As to those parts of his writings that concerned doctrine, he declared himself ready to retract whatever contradicted Scripture.
At this point the official objected in Latin, giving the official view of the Church of that age. Martin, he said, the claim that Scripture is the only authority and standard of faith is the excuse heretics have always made. You are only repeating the errors of Wycliffe and Hus. How can you think you alone have understood Scripture, that your judgment is sounder and wiser than all these famous men? You have no right to question our true faith, founded by Christ the perfect lawgiver, spread through the world by the apostles, confirmed by the blood of martyrs, approved by holy councils and explained by the Church, and which pope and emperor forbid us to debate. Martin, answer plainly: do you reject your writings and their errors or not?
Luther gave his historic answer in German. As Your Majesty and the lords expect, he would answer simply and clearly. Unless he was convinced by the testimony of Scripture or by plain reason (for he accepted neither pope nor councils alone, since they had often contradicted one another), his conscience was bound by the word of God. He could not and would not retract anything, since to act against conscience is neither right nor safe. May God help him. Amen. (The famous words "Here I stand" are not in the book's text of the speech.)
Eck objected that it could not be proved that church councils had erred. Luther replied that he was ready to show their errors. But the emperor angrily cut him off: enough! Since he denies the authority of councils, we will hear no more. Luther returned to his lodging tired and troubled, but confident, in what Carlyle called the greatest moment in modern human history, that he had done his duty.
The Emperor's Statement and the Edict
The emperor too was deeply disturbed, like the monk. Brought up in comfort and accustomed to authority, he feared that if individuals interpreted Scripture for themselves and were free to accept or reject civil or church commands by their own conscience, the order of society would fall apart, since that order rested for him on a moral law grounded in religious belief and metaphysics. On April 19 he called together a number of powerful princes and rulers and presented a statement in French on Christian faith and conduct, apparently in his own hand. He said that he descended from the old line of Christian emperors, the German nation, the Catholic princes of Spain, the archdukes of Austria and the dukes of Burgundy, who had been loyal to the Roman Church to the death and had defended the Catholic faith. He meant to follow them. A single monk who stands against a thousand years of Christianity is in error. He would therefore stake his lands, his friends, his body, his blood, his life and his soul on defending his religion and faith. After hearing Luther's stubborn defense the day before, he regretted having been silent so long. He would take no action against Luther's person, and Luther could return home under his protection, but must not speak or stir up disorder. From then on he would treat him as a notorious heretic, and asked the princes to declare, as they had promised, their readiness to support him.
Four electors agreed. Frederick of Saxony and Ludwig, elector Palatine, refused. That night, April 19, unknown persons posted placards bearing the sign of the German social revolt, the peasant's shoe (the Bundschuh), on the town hall and other buildings in Worms. Frightened churchmen contacted Luther in secret and asked him to make peace with the Church, but he did not withdraw what he had declared at Worms. On April 26 Luther left Worms for Wittenberg. Leo X, by a decree, warned that the emperor's promise of safe-conduct must be honored. Even so, Frederick feared that after the safe-conduct expired on May 6 the emperor's agents might seek to arrest Luther. Against Luther's own wishes, he decided to have him seized by a mock attack on the road and hidden in the Wartburg fortress.
On May 6 the emperor presented to the Diet the draft of the Edict of Worms, prepared by Aleander. It charged Luther with defiling marriage, discrediting confession, and denying the body and blood of the Lord; with making the sacraments depend on the faith of the participant; and with denying free will and thus becoming a man without religion. Under the mask of monasticism, the draft said, this man had gathered the errors of earlier heretics into one foul pool and added new ones of his own. He denied that the pope holds the keys of heaven, and encouraged Christians to stain their hands with the blood of clergy. (This charge, which in the book is stated more fiercely, is abridged here.) His teaching led only to rebellion, division, war, plunder and the destruction of Christianity. He burned papal decrees and despised excommunications and the power of rulers; his harm to the social order was greater than to the Church's power. Efforts to turn him from his course had failed, since he recognized no standard of faith except Scripture, which he interpreted at will. He had been given twenty-one days from April 15; after that no one might shelter him, and his followers too must be condemned. His books must be erased from memory.
Not long after the draft was presented, Leo X shifted his political support from Francis I to Charles V. The Diet, now thinned by the departure of many delegates, approved the edict, and Charles officially published it on May 26. Aleander thanked God and ordered Luther's books burned wherever they were found.