only awaited the meeting of a diet which had been summoned
soon after the Treaty of Passau. This meeting was delayed by
violent commotions raised in Germany by Albert, Margrave of
Brandenburg. It was further delayed by the engrossment in
his own affairs of Ferdinand, King of Bohemia and Hungary.
He was the brother of Charles, had exerted himself, though
with slight success, to settle the religious disputes in
Germany, and Charles needed his presence at the Diet,
whereby he hoped to secure a final pacification.
As a diet was now necessary on many accounts, Ferdinand, about the
beginning of the year 1555, had repaired to Augsburg. Though few of the
princes were present either in person or by their deputies, he opened
the assembly by a speech, in which he proposed a termination of the
dissensions to which the new tenets and controversies with regard to
religion had given rise, not only as the first and great business of the
diet, but as the point which both the Emperor and he had most at heart.
He represented the innumerable obstacles which the Emperor had to
surmount before he could procure the convocation of a general council,
as well as the fatal accidents which had for some time retarded, and had
at last suspended, the consultations of that assembly. He observed that
experience had already taught them how vain it was to expect any remedy
for evils which demanded immediate redress from a general council, the
assembling of which would either be prevented, or its deliberations be
interrupted, by the dissensions and hostilities of the princes of
Christendom; that a national council in Germany, which, as some
imagined, might be called with greater ease, and deliberate with more
perfect security, was an assembly of an unprecedented nature, the
jurisdiction of which was uncertain in its extent, and the form of its
proceedings undefined; that in his opinion there remained but one method
for composing their unhappy differences, which, though it had been often
tried without success, might yet prove effectual if it were attempted
with a better and more pacific spirit than had appeared on former
occasions, and that was, to choose a few men of learning, abilities, and
moderation, who, by discussing the disputed articles in an amicable
conference, might explain them in such a manner as to bring the
contending parties either to unite in sentiment, or to differ with
charity.
This speech being printed in common form, and dispersed over the empire,
revived the fears and jealousies of the Protestants; Ferdinand, they
observed with much surprise, had not once mentioned, in his address to
the Diet, the Treaty of Passau, the stipulations of which they
considered as the great security of their religious liberty. The
suspicions to which this gave rise were confirmed by the accounts which
were daily received of the extreme severity with which Ferdinand treated
their Protestant brethren in his hereditary dominions; and as it was
natural to consider his actions as the surest indication of his
intentions, this diminished their confidence in those pompous
professions of moderation, and of zeal for the reestablishment of
concord, to which his practice seemed to be so repugnant.
The arrival of the cardinal, Morone, whom the Pope had appointed to
attend the Diet as his nuncio, completed their conviction, and left them
no room to doubt that some dangerous machination was forming against
the peace or safety of the Protestant Church. Julius, elated with the
unexpected return of the English nation from apostasy, began to flatter
himself that, the spirit of mutiny and revolt having now spent its
force, the happy period was come when the Church might resume its
ancient authority, and be obeyed by the people with the same tame
submission as formerly. Full of these hopes, he had sent Morone to
Augsburg with instructions to employ his eloquence to excite the Germans
to imitate the laudable example of the English, and his political
address in order to prevent any decree of the Diet to the detriment of
the Catholic faith. But Julius died, and as soon as Morone heard of this
he set out abruptly from Augsburg, where he had resided only a few days,
that he might be present at the election of the new pontiff.
One cause of their suspicions and fears being thus removed, the
Protestants soon became sensible that their conjectures concerning
Ferdinand's intentions, however specious, were ill-founded, and that he
had no thoughts of violating the articles favorable to them in the
Treaty of Passau. Charles, from the time that Maurice had defeated all
his schemes in the empire, and overturned the great system of religious
and civil despotism which he had almost established there, gave little
attention to the internal government of Germany, and permitted his
brother to pursue whatever measures he judged most salutary and
expedient. Ferdinand, less ambitious and enterprising than the Emperor,
instead of resuming a plan which he, with power and resources so far
superior, had failed of accomplishing, endeavored to attach the princes
of the empire to his family by an administration uniformly moderate and
equitable. To this he gave, at present, particular attention, because
his situation at this juncture rendered it necessary to court their
favor and support with more than usual assiduity.
Charles had again resumed his favorite project of acquiring the imperial
crown for his son Philip, the prosecution of which, the reception it had
met with when first proposed had obliged him to suspend, but had not
induced him to relinquish. This led him warmly to renew his request to
his brother, that he would accept of some compensation for his prior
right of succession, and sacrifice that to the grandeur of the house of
Austria. Ferdinand, who was as little disposed as formerly to give such
an extraordinary proof of self-denial, being sensible that, in order to
defeat this scheme, not only the most inflexible firmness on his part,
but a vigorous declaration from the princes of the empire in behalf of
his title, were requisite, was willing to purchase their favor by
gratifying them in every point that they deemed interesting or
essential.
At the same time he stood in need of immediate and extraordinary aid
from the Germanic body, as the Turks, after having wrested from him a
great part of his Hungarian territories, were ready to attack the
provinces still subject to his authority with a formidable army, against
which he could bring no equal force into the field. For this aid from
Germany he could not hope, if the internal peace of the empire were not
established on a foundation solid in itself, and which should appear,
even to the Protestants, so secure and so permanent as might not only
allow them to engage in a distant war with safety, but might encourage
them to act in it with vigor.
A step taken by the Protestants themselves, a short time after the
opening of the Diet, rendered him still more cautious of giving them any
new cause of offence. As soon as the publication of Ferdinand's speech
awakened the fears and suspicions which have been mentioned, the
electors of Saxony and Brandenburg, together with the Landgrave of
Hesse, met at Naumburg, and, confirming the ancient treaty of
confraternity which had long united their families, they added to it a
new article, by which the contracting parties bound themselves to adhere
to the Confession of Augsburg, and to maintain the doctrine which it
contained in their respective dominions.
Ferdinand, influenced by all these considerations, employed his utmost
address in conducting the deliberations of the Diet, so as not to excite
the jealousy of a party on whose friendship he depended, and whose
enmity, as they had not only taken the alarm, but had begun to prepare
for their defence, he had so much reason to dread. The members of the
Diet readily agreed to Ferdinand's proposal of taking the state of
religion into consideration previous to any other business. But, soon as
they entered upon it, both parties discovered all the zeal and animosity
which a subject so interesting naturally engenders, and which the
rancor of controversy, together with the violence of civil war, had
inflamed to the highest pitch.
The Protestants contended that the security which they claimed in
consequence of the Treaty of Passau should extend, without limitation,
to all who had hitherto embraced the doctrine of Luther, or who should
thereafter embrace it. The Catholics, having first of all asserted the
Pope's right, as the supreme and final judge with respect to all
articles of faith, declared that though, on account of the present
situation of the empire, and for the sake of peace, they were willing to
confirm the toleration granted by the Treaty of Passau to such as had
already adopted the new opinions, they must insist that this indulgence
should not be extended either to those cities which had conformed to the
"interim," or to such ecclesiastics as should for the future apostatize
from the Church of Rome. It was no easy matter to reconcile such
opposite pretensions, which were supported, on each side, by the most
elaborate arguments, and the greatest acrimony of expression, that the
abilities or zeal of theologians long exercised in disputation could
suggest. Ferdinand, however, by his address and perseverance; by
softening some things on each side; by putting a favorable meaning upon
others; by representing incessantly the necessity as well as the
advantages of concord; and by threatening, on some occasions, when all
other considerations were disregarded, to dissolve the Diet, brought
them at length to a conclusion in which they all agreed.
Conformably to this, a recess was framed, approved of, and published
with the usual formalities. The following are the chief articles which
it contained: That such princes and cities as have declared their
approbation of the Confession of Augsburg shall be permitted to profess
the doctrine and exercise the worship which it authorizes, without
interruption or molestation from the Emperor, the King of the Romans, or
any power or person whatsoever; that the Protestants, on their part,
shall give no disquiet to the princes and states who adhere to the
tenets and rites of the Church of Rome; that, for the future, no attempt
shall be made toward terminating religious differences but by the gentle
and pacific methods of persuasion and conference; that the Popish
ecclesiastics shall claim no spiritual jurisdiction in such states as
receive the Confession of Augsburg; that such as had seized the
benefices or revenues of the Church, previous to the Treaty of Passau,
shall retain possession of them, and be liable to no persecution in the
imperial chamber on that account; that the supreme civil power in every
state shall have right to establish what form of doctrine and worship it
shall deem proper, and, if any of its subjects refuse to conform to
these, shall permit them to remove with all their effects whithersoever
they shall please; that if any prelate or ecclesiastic shall hereafter
abandon the Romish religion, he shall instantly relinquish his diocese
or benefice, and it shall be lawful for those in whom the right of
nomination is vested to proceed immediately to an election, as if the
office were vacant by death or translation, and to appoint a successor
of undoubted attachment to the ancient system.
Such are the capital articles in this famous recess, which is the basis
of religious peace in Germany, and the bond of union among its various
states, the sentiments of which are so extremely different with respect
to points the most interesting as well as important. In our age and
nation, to which the idea of toleration is familiar, and its beneficial
effects well known, it may seem strange that a method of terminating
their dissensions, so suitable to the mild and charitable spirit of the
Christian religion, did not sooner occur to the contending parties. But
this expedient, however salutary, was so repugnant to the sentiments and
practice of Christians during many ages that it did not lie obvious to
discovery. Among the ancient heathens, all whose deities were local and
tutelary, diversity of sentiments concerning the object or rites of
religious worship seems to have been no source of animosity, because the
acknowledging veneration to be due to any one god did not imply denial
of the existence or the power of any other god; nor were the modes and
rites of worship established in one country incompatible with those
which other nations approved of and observed. Thus the errors in their
system of theology were of such a nature as to be productive of concord;
and, notwithstanding the amazing number of their deities, as well as the
infinite variety of their ceremonies, a sociable and tolerating spirit
subsisted almost universally in the Pagan world.
But when the Christian revelation declared one Supreme Being to be the
sole object of religious veneration, and prescribed the form of worship
most acceptable to him, whoever admitted the truth of it held, of
consequence, every other system of religion, as a deviation from what
was established by divine authority, to be false and impious. Hence
arose the zeal of the first converts to the Christian faith in
propagating its doctrines, and the ardor with which they labored to
overturn every other form of worship. They employed, however, for this
purpose no methods but such as suited the nature of religion. By the
force of powerful arguments, they convinced the understandings of men;
by the charms of superior virtue, they allured and captivated their
hearts. At length the civil power declared in favor of Christianity; and
though numbers, imitating the example of their superiors, crowded into
the church, many still adhered to their ancient superstitions. Enraged
at their obstinacy, the ministers of religion, whose zeal was still
unabated, though their sanctity and virtue were much diminished, forgot
so far the nature of their own mission, and of the arguments which they
ought to have employed, that they armed the imperial power against these
unhappy men, and, as they could not persuade, they tried to compel them
to believe.
The Diet of Augsburg was soon followed by the Emperor's resignation of
his hereditary dominions to his son Philip; together with his resolution
to withdraw entirely from any concern in business or the affairs of this
world, in order that he might spend the remainder of his days in
retirement and solitude. Though it requires neither deep reflection nor
extraordinary discernment to discover that the state of royalty is not
exempt from cares and disappointment; though most of those who are
exalted to a throne find solicitude, and satiety, and disgust to be
their perpetual attendants in that envied preeminence, yet to descend
voluntarily from the supreme to a subordinate station, and to relinquish
the possession of power in order to attain the enjoyment of happiness,
seems to be an effort too great for the human mind. Several instances,
indeed, occur in history, of monarchs who have quitted a throne, and
have ended their days in retirement. But they were either weak princes,
who took this resolution rashly, and repented of it as soon as it was
taken, or unfortunate princes, from whose hands some stronger rival had
wrested their sceptre, and compelled them to descend with reluctance
into a private station. Diocletian is perhaps the only prince capable of
holding the reins of government who ever resigned them from deliberate
choice, and who continued during many years to enjoy the tranquillity of
retirement without fetching one penitent sigh, or casting back one look
of desire toward the power or dignity which he had abandoned.
No wonder, then, that Charles' resignation should fill all Europe with
astonishment, and give rise, both among his contemporaries and among the
historians of that period, to various conjectures concerning the motives
which determined a prince, whose ruling passion had been uniformly the
love of power, at the age of fifty-six, when objects of ambition
continue to operate with full force on the mind, and are pursued with
the greatest ardor, to take a resolution so singular and unexpected.
But, while many authors have imputed it to motives so frivolous and
fantastical as can hardly be supposed to influence any reasonable mind;
while others have imagined it to be the result of some profound scheme
of policy, historians more intelligent and better informed neither
ascribe it to caprice, nor search for mysterious secrets of state, where
simple and obvious causes will fully account for the Emperor's conduct.
Charles had been attacked early in life with the gout; and,
notwithstanding all the precautions of the most skilful physicians, the
violence of the distemper increased as he advanced in age, and the fits
became every year more frequent as well as more severe. Not only was the
vigor of his constitution broken, but the faculties of his mind were
impaired by the excruciating torments which he endured. During the
continuance of the fits, he was altogether incapable of applying to
business; and even when they began to abate, as it was only at intervals
that he could attend to what was serious, he gave up a great part of his
time to trifling and even childish occupations, which served to relieve
or amuse his mind, enfeebled and worn out with excess of pain. Under
these circumstances, the conduct of such affairs as occurred of course
in governing so many kingdoms was a burden more than sufficient; but to
push forward and complete the vast schemes which the ambition of his
more active years had formed, or to keep in view and carry on the same
great system of policy, extending to every nation in Europe, and
connected with the operations of every different court, were functions
which so far exceeded his strength that they oppressed and overwhelmed
his mind. As he had been long accustomed to view the business of every
department, whether civil or military or ecclesiastical, with his own
eyes, and to decide concerning it according to his own ideas, it gave
him the utmost pain, when he felt his infirmities increase so fast upon
him, that he was obliged to commit the conduct of all his affairs to his
ministers. He imputed every misfortune which befell him, and every
miscarriage that happened, even when the former was unavoidable or the
latter accidental, to his inability to take the inspection of business
himself. He complained of his hard fortune in being opposed, in his
declining years, to a rival who was in the full vigor of life; and that,
while Henry could take and execute all his resolutions in person, he
should now be reduced, both in counsel and in action, to rely on the
talents and exertions of other men. Having thus grown old before his
time, he wisely judged it more decent to conceal his infirmities in some
solitude than to expose them any longer to the public eye, and prudently
determined not to forfeit the fame or lose the acquisitions of his
better years by struggling, with a vain obstinacy, to retain the reins
of government, when he was no longer able to hold them with steadiness,
or to guide them with address.[58]
But though Charles had revolved this scheme in his mind for several
years, and had communicated it to his sisters the dowager queens of
France and Hungary, who not only approved of his intention, but offered
to accompany him to whatever place of retreat he should choose, several
things had hitherto prevented his carrying it into execution. He could
not think of loading his son with the government of so many kingdoms
until he should attain such maturity of age and of abilities as would
enable him to sustain that weighty burden. But as Philip had now reached
his twenty-eighth year, and had been early accustomed to business, for
which he discovered both inclination and capacity, it can hardly be
imputed to the partiality of paternal affection that his scruples with
regard to this point were entirely removed; and that he thought he might
place his son, without further hesitation or delay, on the throne which
he himself was about to abandon. His mother's situation had been another
obstruction in his way. For although she had continued almost fifty
years in confinement, and under the same disorder of mind which concern
for her husband's death had brought upon her, yet the government of
Spain was still vested in her jointly with the Emperor; her name was
inserted, together with his, in all the public instruments issued in
that kingdom; and such was the fond attachment of the Spaniards to her,
that they would probably have scrupled to recognize Philip as their
sovereign, unless she had consented to assume him as her partner on the
throne. Her utter incapacity for business rendered it impossible to
obtain her consent. But her death, which happened this year, removed
this difficulty; and as Charles, upon that event, became sole monarch
of Spain, it left the succession open to his son. The war with France
had likewise been a reason for retaining the administration of affairs
in his own hands, as he was extremely solicitous to have terminated it,
that he might have given up his kingdoms to his son at peace with all
the world. But as Henry had discovered no disposition to close with any
of his overtures, and had even rejected proposals of peace which were
equal and moderate, in a tone that seemed to indicate a fixed purpose of
continuing hostilities, he saw that it was vain to wait longer in
expectation of an event which, however desirable, was altogether
uncertain.
As this, then, appeared to be the proper juncture for executing the
scheme which he had long meditated, Charles resolved to resign his
kingdoms to his son with a solemnity suitable to the importance of the
transaction, and to perform this last act of sovereignty with such
formal pomp as might leave a lasting impression on the minds not only of
his subjects, but of his successor. With this view he called Philip out
of England, where the peevish temper of his queen, which increased with
her despair of having issue, rendered him extremely unhappy; and the
jealousy of the English left him no hopes of obtaining the direction of
their affairs. Having assembled the states of the Low Countries at
Brussels, on October 25th, Charles seated himself for the last time in
the chair of state, on one side of which was placed his son, and on the
other his sister the Queen of Hungary, regent of the Netherlands, with a
splendid retinue of the princes of the empire and grandees of Spain
standing behind him. The president of the council of Flanders, by his
command, explained in a few words his intention in calling this
extraordinary meeting of the states. He then read the instrument of
resignation, by which Charles surrendered to his son Philip all his
territories, jurisdiction, and authority in the Low Countries, absolving
his subjects there from their oath of allegiance to him, which he
required them to transfer to Philip, his lawful heir, and to serve him
with the same loyalty and zeal which they had manifested, during so long
a course of years, in support of his government.