In 1553, the young king died. Somerset had fallen from power

the previous year and had suffered death. He had been

supplanted by Dudley, Earl of Warwick and Duke of

Northumberland, and that minister had persuaded Edward to

bequeath his crown to Lady Jane Grey, grand-daughter of the

younger sister of Henry VIII. But Northumberland was hated by

the people, and few could recognize the right of a boy on the

throne to change the order of regal succession by his will.

Parliament had formally legitimated both Catherine's daughter,

Mary, and Anne Boleyn's daughter, Elizabeth, and had placed

them in the line of inheritance. Mary's legal title to the

crown was clear. She had adhered with her mother to the Roman

Church, and her advent upon the throne would mean the

subjection of the English Church to the Papacy anew; since the

constitution of the Church armed the sovereign with supreme

and indisputable power over it. The Protestants of the kingdom

knew what to expect, and were in great fear; but they submitted.

Lady Jane Grey was recommended to them by her Protestant

belief, and by her beautiful character; but her title was too

defective and her supporters too much distrusted. There were

few to stand by the poor young girl when Northumberland

proclaimed her queen, and she was easily dethroned by the

partisans of Mary. A year later she was sent to the block.

Catholicism was now ascendant again, and England was brought

to share in the great reaction against the Reformation which

prevailed generally through Europe and which we shall

presently consider. Before doing so, let us glance briefly at

the religious state of some other countries not yet touched

upon.

The Reformation in Scotland.

In Scotland, a deep undercurrent of feeling against the

corruptions of the Church had been repressed by resolute

persecutions, until after the middle of the sixteenth century.

Wars with England, and the close connection of the Scottish

Court with the Guises of France, had both tended to retard the

progress of a reform sentiment, or to delay the manifestation

of it. But when the pent-up feeling began to respond to the

voice of the great Calvinistic evangelist and organizer, John

Knox, it swept the nation like a storm. Knox's first

preaching, after his captivity in France and exile to Geneva,

was in 1555. In 1560, the authority of the Pope was renounced,

the mass prohibited, and the Geneva confession of faith

adopted, by the Scottish Estates. After that time the Reformed

Church in Scotland--the Church of Presbyterianism--had only

to resist the futile hostility of Mary Stuart for a few years,

until it came to its great struggle against English

Episcopacy, under Mary's son and grandson, James and Charles.

The Reformation in the North.

In the three Scandinavian nations the ideas of the

Reformation, diffused from Germany, had won early favor, both

from kings and people, and had soon secured an enduring

foothold. They owed their reception quite as much, perhaps, to

the political situation as to the religious feeling of the

northern peoples.

When the ferment of the Reformation movement began, the three

crowns were worn by one king, as they had been since the

"Union of Calmar," in 1397, and the King of Denmark was the

sovereign of the Union. His actual power in Sweden and Norway

was slight; his theoretical authority was sufficient to

irritate both. In Sweden, especially, the nobles chafed under

the yoke of the profitless federation. Christian II., the last

Danish king of the three kingdoms, crushed their disaffection

by a harsh conquest of the country (1520), and by savage

executions, so perfidious and so numerous that they are known

in Swedish history as the Massacre of Stockholm. But this

brutal and faithless king became so hateful in his own proper

kingdom that the Danish nobles rose against him in 1523 and he

was driven from the land. The crown was given to his uncle,

Frederick, Duke of Schleswig-Holstein. In that German Duchy,

Lutheranism had already made its way, and Frederick was in

accord with it. On coming to the throne of Denmark, where

Catholicism still prevailed, he pledged himself to attempt no

interference with it; but he felt no obligation, on the other

hand, to protect it. He demanded and established a toleration

for both doctrines, and gave to the reformers a freedom of

opportunity which speedily undermined the old faith and

overthrew it.

In the meantime, Sweden had undergone the important revolution

of her history, which placed the national hero, Gustavus Vasa,

on the throne. Gustavus was a young noble whose title to the

crown was not derived from his lineage, but from his genius.

After Christian II. had bloodily exterminated the elder

leaders of the Swedish state, this young lord, then a hostage

and prisoner in the tyrant's hands, made his escape and took

upon himself the mission of setting his country free. For

three years Gustavus lived a life like that of Alfred the

Great in England, when he, too, struggled with the Danes. His

heroic adventures were crowned with success, and Sweden, led

to independence by its natural king, bestowed the regal title

upon him (1523) and seated him upon its ancient throne. The

new Danish king, Frederick, acknowledged the revolution, and

the Union of Calmar was dissolved. Sweden under Gustavus Vasa

recovered from the state of great disorder into which it had

fallen, and grew to be a nation of important strength. As a

measure of policy, he encouraged the introduction of

Lutheranism and promoted the spread of it, in order to break

the power of the Catholic clergy, and also, in order, without

doubt, to obtain possession of the property of the Church,

which secured to the Crown the substantial revenues it

required.

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Italy.

In Italy, the reformed doctrines obtained no popular footing

at any time, though many among the cultivated people regarded

them with favor, and would gladly have witnessed, not only a

practical purging of the Church, but a revision of those

Catholic dogmas most offensive to a rational mind. But such

little movement as stirred in that direction was soon stopped

by the success of the Emperor, Charles V., in his Italian wars

with Francis I., and by the Spanish domination in the

peninsula which ensued thereon. The Spain of that age was like

the bloodless octopus which paralyzes the victim in its

clutch, and Italy, gripped in half of its many principalities

by the deadly tentacles thrust out from Madrid, showed no

consciousness for the next two centuries.

The Council of Trent.

The long demanded, long promised General Council, for

considering the alleged abuses in the Church and the alleged

falsities in its doctrine, and generally for discussion and

action upon the questions raised by the Reformation, assembled

at Trent in December, 1545. The Emperor seems to have desired

with sincerity that the Council might be one which the

Protestants would have confidence in, and in which they might

be represented, for a full discussion of their differences

with Rome. But this was made impossible from the beginning.

The Protestants demanded that "final appeal on all debated

points should be made to the sole authority of Holy

Scripture," and this being refused by the Pope (Paul III.),

there remained no ground on which the two parties could meet.

The Italian prelates who composed the majority of the Council

made haste, it would seem, to take action which closed the

doors of conciliation against the Reformers. "First, they

declared that divine revelation was continuous in the Church

of which the Pope was the head; and that the chief written

depository of this revelation--namely, the Scriptures--had no

authority except in the version of the Vulgate. Secondly, they

condemned the doctrine of justification by Faith. ... Thirdly,

they confirmed the efficacy and the binding authority of the

Seven Sacraments." "The Council terminated in December [1563]

with an act of submission, which placed all its decrees at the

pleasure of the Papal sanction. Pius [Pius IV. became Pope in

1560] was wise enough to pass and ratify the decrees of the

Tridentine fathers by a Bull dated on December 26, 1563,

reserving to the Papal sovereign the sole right of

interpreting them in doubtful or disputed cases. This he could

well afford to do; for not an article had been penned without

his concurrence, and not a stipulation had been made without a

previous understanding with the Catholic powers. The very terms,

moreover, by which his ratification was conveyed, secured his

supremacy, and conferred upon his successors and himself the

privileges of a court of ultimate appeal. At no previous

period in the history of the Church had so wide, so undefined,

and so unlimited an authority been accorded to the See of

Rome" (Symonds).

Some practical reforms in the Church were wrought by the

Council of Trent, but its disciplinary decrees were less

important than the dogmatic. From beginning to end of its

sessions, which, broken by many suspensions and adjournments,

dragged through eighteen years, it addressed itself to the

task of solidifying the Church of Rome, as left by the

Protestant schism,--not of healing the schism itself or of

removing the provocations to it. The work which the Council

did in that direction was of vast importance, and profoundly

affected the future of the Papacy and of its spiritual realm.

It gave a firm dogmatic footing to the great reactionary new

forces which now came into play, with aggressive enthusiasm

and zeal, to arrest the advance of the Reformation and roll it

back.

The Catholic reaction.

The extraordinary revival of Catholicism and thrusting back of

Protestantism which occurred in the later half of the

sixteenth century had several causes behind it and within it.

1. The spiritual impulse from which the Reformation started

had considerably spent itself, or had become debased by a

gross admixture of political and mercenary aims. In Germany,

the spoils derived from the suppressing of monastic

establishments and the secularizing of ecclesiastical fiefs

and estates, appeared very early among the potent inducements

by which mercenary princes were drawn to the side of the

Lutheran reform. Later, as the opposing leagues, Protestant

and Catholic, settled into chronic opposition and hostility,

the struggle between them took on more and more the character

of a great political game, and lost more and more the spirit

of a battle for free conscience and a free mind. In France, as

we have noticed, the political entanglements of the Huguenot

party were such, by this time, that it could not fail to be

lowered by them in its religious tone. In England, every

breath of spirituality in the movement had so far (to the

death of Henry VIII.) been stifled, and it showed nothing but

a brazen political front to the world. In the Netherlands, the

struggle for religious freedom was about to merge itself in a

fight of forty years for self-government, and the fortitude

and valor of the citizen were more surely developed in that

long war than the faith and fervor of the Christian. And so,

generally throughout Europe, Protestantism, in its conflict

with the powers of the ancient Church, had descended, ere the

sixteenth century ran far into its second half, to a

distinctly lower plane than it occupied at first. On that

lower plane Rome fronted it more formidably, with stronger

arms, than on the higher.

2. Broadly stating the fact, it may be said that Protestantism

made all its great inroads upon the Church of Rome before

partisanship came to the rescue of the latter, and closed the

open mind with which Luther, and Zwingli, and Farel, and

Calvin were listened to at first. It happens always, when new

ideas, combative of old ones, whether religious or political,

are first put forward in the world, they are listened to for a

time with a certain disinterestedness of attention--a certain

native candor in the mind--which gives them a fair hearing. If

they seem reasonable, they obtain ready acceptance, and spread

rapidly,--until the conservatism of the beliefs assailed

takes serious alarm, and the radicalism of the innovating

beliefs becomes ambitious and rampant; until the for and the

against stiffen themselves in opposing ranks, and the voice of

argument is drowned by the cries of party. That ends all

shifting of masses from the old to the new ground. That ends

conversion as an epidemic and dwindles it to the sporadic

character.

3. Protestantism became bitterly divided within itself at an

early stage of its career by doctrinal differences, first

between Zwinglians and Lutherans, and then between Lutherans

and Calvinists, while Catholicism, under attack, settled into

more unity and solidity than before.

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4. The tremendous power in Europe to which the Spanish

monarchy, with its subject dominions, and its dynastic

relations, had now risen, passed, in 1556, to a dull-brained

and soulless bigot, who saw but one use for it, namely, the

extinction of all dissent from his own beliefs, and all

opposition to his own will. Philip II. differed from his

father, Charles V., not in the enormity of his bigoted

egotism--they were equals, perhaps, in that--but in the

exclusiveness of it. There was something else in Charles,

something sometimes faintly admirable. He did have some

interests in life that were not purely malignant. But his

horrid vampire of a son, the most repulsive creature of his

kind in all history, had nothing in him that was not as deadly

to mankind as the venom secreted behind the fang of a cobra. It

was a frightful day for the world when a despotism which

shadowed Spain, Sicily, Italy and the Low Countries, and which

had begun to drag unbounded treasure from America, fell to the

possession of such a being as this. Nothing substantial was

taken away from the potent malevolence of Philip by his

failure of election in Germany to the Imperial throne. On the

contrary, he was the stronger for it, because all his dominion

was real and all his authority might assume to be absolute.

His father had been more handicapped than helped by his German

responsibilities and embarrassments, which Philip escaped. It

is not strange that his concentration of the vast enginery

under his hands to one limited aim, of exterminating what his

dull and ignorant mind conceived to be irreligion and treason,

had its large measure of success. The stranger thing is, that

there was fortitude and courage to resist such power, in even

one corner of his realm.

5. The Papacy was restored at this time to the purer and

higher character of its best ages, by well-guided elections,

which raised in succession to the throne a number of men, very

different in ability, and quite different, too, in the spirit

of their piety, but generally alike in dignity and decency of

life, and in qualities which command respect. The fiery

Neapolitan zealot, Caraffa, who became Pope in 1555 as Paul

IV.; his cool-tempered diplomatic successor, Pius IV., who

manipulated the closing labors of the Council of Trent; the

austere inquisitor, Pius V.; the more commonplace Gregory

XIII., and the powerful Sixtus V., were pontiffs who gave new

strength to Catholicism, in their different ways, both by what

they did and by what they were.

6. The revival of zeal in the Roman Church, naturally

following the attacks upon it, gave rise to many new religious

organizations within its elastic fold, some reformatory, some

missionary and militant, but all bringing an effectual

reinforcement to it, at the time when its assailants began to

show faltering signs. Among these was one--Loyola's Society of

Jesus--which marched promptly to the front of the battle, and

which contributed more than any other single force in the

field to the rallying of the Church, to the stopping of

retreat, and to the facing of its stubborn columns forward for

a fresh advance. The Jesuits took such a lead and accomplished

such results by virtue of the military precision of discipline

under which they had been placed and to which they were

singularly trained by the rules of the founder; and also by

effect of a certain subtle sophistry that runs through their

ethical maxims and their counsels of piety. They fought for

their faith with a sublime courage, with a devotion almost

unparalleled, with an earnestness of belief that cannot be

questioned; but they used weapons and modes of warfare which

the higher moral feeling of civilized mankind, whether

Christian or Pagan, has always condemned. It is not Protestant

enemies alone who say this. It is the accusation that has been

brought against them again and again in their own Church, and

which has expelled them from Catholic countries, again and

again. In the first century or more of their career, this

plastic conscience, moulded by a passionate zeal, and

surrendered, with every gift of mind and body, to a service of

obedience which tolerated no evasion on one side nor bending

on the other, made the Jesuits the most invincible and

dangerous body of men that was ever organized for defense and

aggression in any cause.

The order was founded in 1540, by a bull of Pope Paul III. At

the time of Loyola's death, in 1556, it numbered about one

thousand members, and under Lainez, the second general of the

order, who succeeded Loyola at the head, it advanced rapidly,

in numbers, in efficiency of organization, and in wide-spread

influence.

Briefly stated, these are the incidents and circumstances

which help to explain--not fully, perhaps, but almost

sufficiently--the check to Protestantism and the restored

energy and aggressiveness of the Catholic Church, in the later

half of the sixteenth century.

The Ruin of Spain.

In his kingdoms of Spain, Philip II. may be said to have

finished the work of death which his father and his father's

grand-parents committed to him. They began it, and appointed

the lines on which it was to be done. The Spain of their day

had the fairest opportunity of any nation in Europe for a

great and noble career. The golden gates of her opportunity

were unlocked and opened by good Queen Isabella; but the pure

hands of the same pious queen threw over the neck of her

country the noose of a strangler, and tightened it

prayerfully. Her grandson, who was neither pious nor good,

flung his vast weight of power upon it. But the strangling

halter of the Spanish Inquisition did not extinguish signs of

life in his kingdom fast enough to satisfy his royal

impatience, and he tightened other cords upon the suffering

body and all its limbs. Philip, when he came to take up the

murderous task, found every equipment for it that he could

desire. He had only to gather the strands of the infernal mesh

into his hands, and bring the strain of his awful sovereignty

to bear upon them: then sit and watch the palsy of death creep

over his dominions.

Of political life, Charles really left nothing for his son to

kill. Of positive religious life, there can have been no

important survival, for he and his Inquisition had been keenly

vigilant; but Philip made much of the little he could

discover. As to the industrial life of Spain, father and son

were alike active in the murdering of it, and alike ingenious.

They paralyzed manufactures, in the first instance, by

persecuting and expelling the thrifty and skilful Moriscoes;

then they made their work complete by heavy duties on raw

materials. To extinguish the agricultural industries of the

kingdom, they had happy inspirations.

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They prohibited the exportation of one commodity after

another--corn, cattle, wool, cloth, leather, and the

like--until they had brought Spain practically to the point of

being dependent on other countries for many products of skill,

and yet of having nothing to offer in exchange, except the

treasure of precious metals which she drew from America. Hence

it happened that the silver and gold of the Peruvian and

Mexican mines ran like quicksand through her fingers, into the

coffers of the merchants of the Low Countries and of England;

and, probably, no other country in Europe saw so little of

them, had so little of benefit from them, as the country they

were supposed to enrich.

If the killing of Spain needed to be made complete by anything

more, Philip supplied the need, in the deadliness of his

taxation. Spending vast sums in his attempt to repeat upon the

Netherlands the work of national murder he had accomplished in

Spain; losing, by the same act, the rich revenues of the

thrifty provinces; launching into new expenditures as he

pursued, by clumsy warfare, his mission of death into fresh

fields, aiming now at the life of France, and now at the life

of England,--he squeezed the cost of his armies and armadas

from a country in which he had strangled production already,

and made poverty the common estate. It was the last draining

of the life-blood of a nation which ought to have been strong

and great, but which suffered murder most foul and unnatural.

We hardly exaggerate even in figure when we say that Spain was

a dead nation whim Philip quitted the scene of his arduous

labors. It is true that his successors still found something

for their hands to do, in the ways that were pleasant to their

race, and burned and bled and crushed the unhappy kingdom with

indefatigable persistency; but it was really the corpse of a

nation which they practised on. The life of Spain, as a

breathing, sentient state, came to an end under the hands of

Philip II., first of the Thugs.

Philip II. and the Netherlands.

The hand of Charles V. had been heavy on the Netherlands; but

resistance to such a power as that of Spain in his day was

hardly dreamed of. It was not easy for Philip to outdo his

father's despotism; less easy to drive the laborious

Hollanders and Flemings to desperation and force them into

rebellious war. But he accomplished it. He filled the country

with Spanish troops. He reorganized and stimulated the

Inquisition. He multiplied bishoprics in the Provinces,

against the wish of even the Catholic population. He scorned

the counsels of the great nobles, and gave foreign advisers to

the Regent, his half-sister, Margaret of Parma, illegitimate

daughter of Charles V., whom he placed at the head of the

government. His oppressions were endured, with increasing

signs of hidden passion, for ten years. Then, in 1566, the

first movement of patriotic combination appeared. It was a

league among certain of the nobles; its objects were peaceful,

its plans were legal; but it was not countenanced by the wiser

of the patriots, who saw that events were not ripe. The

members of the league went in solemn procession to the Regent

with a petition; whereupon one of her councillors denounced

them as "a troop of beggars." They promptly seized the epithet

and appropriated it. A beggar's wallet became their emblem;

the idea was caught up and carried through the country, and a

visible party rose quickly into existence.

The religious feeling now gained boldness. Enormous

field-meetings began to be held, under arms, in every part of

the open country, defying edicts and Inquisition. There

followed a little later some fanatical and riotous outbreaks

in several cities, breaking images and desecrating churches.

Upon these occurrences, Philip despatched to the Netherlands,

in the summer of 1567, a fresh army of Spanish troops,

commanded by a man who was after his own heart--as mean, as

false, as merciless, as little in soul and mind, as

himself,--the Duke of Alva. Alva brought with him authority

which practically superseded that of the Regent, and secret

instructions which doomed every man of worth in the Provinces.

At the head of the nobility of the country; by eminence of

character, no less than by precedence in rank, stood William

of Nassau, Prince of Orange, who derived his higher title from

a petty and remote principality, but whose large family

possessions were in Flanders, Brabant, Holland and Luxemburg.

Associated closely with him, in friendship and in political

action, were Count Egmont, and the Admiral Count Horn, the

latter of a family related to the Montmorencies of France.

These three conspicuous nobles Philip had marked with special

malice for the headsman, though their solitary crime had been

the giving of advice against his tyrannies. William of

Orange-"the Silent," as he came to be known--far-seeing in

his wisdom, and well-advised by trusty agents in Spain,

withdrew into Germany before Alva arrived. He warned his

friends of their danger and implored them to save themselves;

but they were blinded and would not listen. The perfidious

Spaniard lured them with flatteries to Brussels and thrust

them into prison. They were to be the first victims of the

appalling sacrifice required to appease the dull rage of the

king. Within three months they had eighteen hundred

companions, condemned like themselves to the scaffold, by a

council in which Alva presided and which the people called

"the Council of Blood." In June, 1568, they were brought to

the block.

History for ready reference, Volume 2, El Dorado to Greaves · 第 82 / 222 段