CHARLES V. AND THE TURKISH WARS.
From 1552 to 1555.
The Treaty of Passau.--The Emperor yields.--His continued Reverses.--The
Toleration Compromise.--Mutual Dissatisfation.--Remarkable Despondency
of the Emperor Charles.--His Address to the Convention at Brussels.--The
Convent of St. Justus.--Charles returns to Spain.--His Convent
Life.--The mock Burial.--His Death.--His Traits of Character.--The
King's Compliment to Titian.--The Condition of Austria.--Rapid Advance
of the Turks.--Reasons for the Inaction of the Christians.--The Sultan's
Method of overcoming Difficulties.--The little Fortress of Guntz.--What
it accomplished.
The Turks, animated by this civil war which was raging in Germany, were
pressing their march upon Hungary with great vigor, and the troops of
Ferdinand were retiring discomfited before the invader. Henry of France
and the Duke of Parma were also achieving victories in Italy endangering
the whole power of the emperor over those States. Ferdinand, appalled by
the prospect of the loss of Hungary, imploringly besought the emperor to
listen to terms of reconciliation. The Catholic princes, terrified in
view of the progress of the infidel, foreseeing the entire subjection of
Europe to the arms of the Moslem unless Christendom could combine in
self-defense, joined their voices with that of Ferdinand so earnestly
and in such impassioned tones, that the emperor finally, though very
reluctantly, gave his assent to the celebrated treaty of Passau, on the
2d of August, 1552. By this pacification the captives were released,
freedom of conscience and of worship was established, and the Protestant
troops, being disbanded, were at liberty to enter into the service of
Ferdinand to repel the Turks. Within six months a diet was to be
assembled to attempt an amicable adjustment of all civil and religious
difficulties.
The intrepid Maurice immediately marched, accompanied by many of the
Protestant princes, and at the head of a powerful army, to repel the
Mohammedan armies. Charles, relieved from his German troubles, gathered
his strength to wreak revenge upon the King of France. But fortune
seemed to have deserted him. Defeat and disgrace accompanied his march.
Having penetrated the French province of Lorraine, he laid siege to
Metz. After losing thirty thousand men beneath its walls, he was
compelled, in the depth of winter, to raise the siege and retreat. His
armies were everywhere routed; the Turks menaced the shores of Italy;
the pope became his inveterate enemy, and joined France against him.
Maurice was struck by a bullet, and fell on the field of battle. The
electorate of Saxony passed into the hands of Augustus, a brother of
Maurice, while the former elector, Ferdinand, who shortly after died,
received some slight indemnification.
Such was the state of affairs when the promised diet was summoned at
Passau. It met on the 5th of February, 1555. The emperor was confined
with the gout at Brussels, and his brother Ferdinand presided. It was a
propitious hour for the Protestants. Charles was sick, dejected and in
adversity. The better portion of the Catholics were disgusted with the
intolerance of the emperor, intolerance which even the more
conscientious popes could not countenance. Ferdinand was fully aware
that he could not defend his own kingdom of Hungary from the Turks
without the intervention of Protestant arms. He was, therefore, warmly
in favor of conciliation.
The world was not yet sufficiently enlightened to comprehend the beauty
of a true toleration, entire freedom of conscience and of worship. After
long and very exciting debates--after being again and again at the point
of grasping their arms anew--they finally agreed that the Protestants
should enjoy the free exercise of their religion wherever Protestantism
had been established and recognized by the Confession of Augsburg. That
in all other places Protestant princes might prohibit the Catholic
religion in their States, and Catholic princes prohibit the Protestant
religion. But in each case the ejected party was at liberty to sell
their property and move without molestation to some State where their
religion was dominant. In the free cities of the empire, where both
religions were established, both were to be tolerated.
Thus far, and no further, had the spirit of toleration made progress in
the middle of the sixteenth century.
Such was the basis of the pacification. Neither party was satisfied.
Each felt that it had surrendered far too much to the other; and there
was subsequently much disagreement respecting the interpretation of some
of the most important articles. The pope, Paul IV., was indignant that
such toleration had been granted to the Protestants, and threatened the
emperor and his brother Ferdinand of Austria with excommunication if
they did not declare these decrees null and void throughout their
dominions. At the same time he entered into correspondence with Henry
II. of France to form a new holy league for the defense of the papal
church against the inroads of heresy.
And now occurred one of the most extraordinary events which history has
recorded. Charles V., who had been the most enterprising and ambitious
prince in Europe, and the most insatiable in his thirst for power,
became the victim of the most extreme despondency. Harassed by the
perplexities which pressed in upon him from his widely-extended realms,
annoyed by the undutiful and haughty conduct of his son, who was
endeavoring to wrest authority from his father by taking advantage of
all his misfortunes, and perhaps inheriting a melancholy temperament
from his mother, who died in the glooms of insanity, and, more than all,
mortified and wounded by so sudden and so vast a reverse of fortune, in
which all his plans seemed to have failed--thus oppressed, humbled, he
retired in disgust to his room, indulged in the most fretful temper,
admitted none but his sister and a few confidential servants to his
presence, and so entirely neglected all business as to pass nine months
without signing a single paper.
While the emperor was in this melancholy state, his insane mother, who
had lingered for years in delirious gloom, died on the 4th of April,
1555. It will be remembered that Charles had inherited valuable estates
in the Low Countries from his marriage with the daughter of the Duke of
Burgundy. Having resolved to abdicate all his power and titles in favor
of his son, he convened the States of the Low Countries at Brussels on
the 25th of October, 1555. Charles was then but fifty-five years of age,
and should have been in the strength of vigorous manhood. But he was
prematurely old, worn down with care, toil and disappointment. He
attended the assembly accompanied by his son Philip. Tottering beneath
infirmities, he leaned upon the shoulders of a friend for support, and
addressed the assembly in a long and somewhat boastful speech,
enumerating all the acts of his administration, his endeavors, his long
and weary journeys, his sleepless care, his wars, and, above all, his
victories. In conclusion he said:
"While my health enabled me to perform my duty, I cheerfully bore the
burden; but as my constitution is now broken by an incurable distemper,
and my infirmities admonish me to retire, the happiness of my people
affects me more than the ambition of reigning. Instead of a decrepid old
man, tottering on the brink of the grave, I transfer your allegiance to
a sovereign in the prime of life, vigilant, sagacious, active and
enterprising. With respect to myself, if I have committed any error in
the course of a long administration, forgive and impute it to my
weakness, not to my intention. I shall ever retain a grateful sense of
your fidelity and attachment, and your welfare shall be the great object
of my prayers to Almighty God, to whom I now consecrate the remainder of
my days."
Then turning to his son Philip, he said:
"And you, my son, let the grateful recollection of this day redouble
your care and affection for your people. Other sovereigns may rejoice in
having given birth to their sons and in leaving their States to them
after their death. But I am anxious to enjoy, during my life, the double
satisfaction of feeling that you are indebted to me both for your birth
and power. Few monarchs will follow my example, and in the lapse of ages
I have scarcely found one whom I myself would imitate. The resolution,
therefore, which I have taken, and which I now carry into execution,
will be justified only by your proving yourself worthy of it. And you
will alone render yourself worthy of the extraordinary confidence which
I now repose in you by a zealous protection of your religion, and by
maintaining the purity of the Catholic faith, and by governing with
justice and moderation. And may you, if ever you are desirous of
retiring like myself to the tranquillity of private life, enjoy the
inexpressible happiness of having such a son, that you may resign your
crown to him with the same satisfaction as I now deliver mine to you."
The emperor was here entirely overcome by emotion, and embracing Philip,
sank exhausted into his chair. The affecting scene moved all the
audience to tears. Soon after this, with the same formalities the
emperor resigned the crown of Spain to his son, reserving to himself, of
all his dignities and vast revenues, only a pension of about twenty
thousand dollars a year. For some months he remained in the Low
Countries, and then returned to Spain to seek an asylum in a convent
there.
When in the pride of his power he once, while journeying in Spain, came
upon the convent of St. Justus in Estramadura, situated in a lovely
vale, secluded from all the bustle of life. The massive pile was
embosomed among the hills; forests spread widely around, and a beautiful
rivulet murmured by its walls. As the emperor gazed upon the enchanting
scene of solitude and silence he exclaimed, "Behold a lovely retreat for
another Diocletian!"
The picture of the convent of St. Justus had ever remained in his mind,
and perhaps had influenced him, when overwhelmed with care, to seek its
peaceful retirement. Embarking in a ship for Spain, he landed at Loredo
on the 28th of September, 1556. As soon as his feet touched the soil of
his native land he prostrated himself to the earth, kissed the ground,
and said,
"Naked came I into the world, and naked I return to thee, thou common
mother of mankind. To thee I dedicate my body, as the only return I can
make for all the benefits conferred on me."
Then kneeling, and holding the crucifix before him, with tears streaming
from his eyes, and all unmindful of the attendants who were around, he
breathed a fervent prayer of gratitude for the past, and commended
himself to God for the future. By slow and easy stages, as he was very
infirm, he journeyed to the vale of Estramadura, near Placentia, and
entered upon his silent, monastic life.
His apartments consisted of six small cells. The stone walls were
whitewashed, and the rooms furnished with the utmost frugality. Within
the walls of the convent, and communicating with the chapel, there was a
small garden, which the emperor had tastefully arranged with shrubbery
and flowers. Here Charles passed the brief remainder of his days. He
amused himself with laboring in the garden with his own hands. He
regularly attended worship in the chapel twice every day, and took part
in the service, manifestly with the greatest sincerity and devotion.
The emperor had not a cultivated mind, and was not fond of either
literary or scientific pursuits. To beguile the hours he amused himself
with tools, carving toys for children, and ingenious puppets and
automata to astonish the peasants. For a time he was very happy in his
new employment. After so stormy a life, the perfect repose and freedom
from care which he enjoyed in the convent, seemed to him the perfection
of bliss. But soon the novelty wore away, and his constitutional
despondency returned with accumulated power.
His dejection now assumed the form of religious melancholy. He began to
devote every moment of his time to devotional reading and prayer,
esteeming all amusements and all employments sinful which interfered
with his spiritual exercises. He expressed to the Bishop of Toledo his
determination to devote, for the rest of his days, every moment to the
service of God. With the utmost scrupulousness he carried out this plan.
He practiced rigid fasts, and conformed to all the austerity of convent
discipline. He renounced his pension, and sitting at the abstemious
table with the monks, declined seeing any other company than that of the
world-renouncing priests and friars around him. He scourged himself with
the most cruel severity, till his back was lacerated with the whip. He
whole soul seemed to crave suffering, in expiation for his sins. His
ingenuity was tasked to devise new methods of mortification and
humiliation. Ambition had ever been the ruling passion of his soul, and
now he was ambitious to suffer more, and to abuse himself more than any
other mortal had ever done.
Goaded by this impulse, he at last devised the scheme of solemnising his
own funeral. All the melancholy arrangements for his burial were made;
the coffin provided; the emperor reclined upon his bed as dead; he was
wrapped in his shroud, and placed in his coffin. The monks, and all the
inmates of the convent attended in mourning; the bells tolled; requiems
were chanted by the choir; the funeral service was read, and then the
emperor, as if dead, was placed in the tomb of the chapel, and the
congregation retired. The monarch, after remaining some time in his
coffin to impress himself with the sense of what it is to die, and be
buried, rose from his tomb, kneeled before the altar for some time in
worship, and then returned to his cell to pass the night in deep
meditation and prayer.
The shock and the chill of this solemn scene were too much for the old
monarch's feeble frame and weakened mind. He was seized with a fever,
and in a few days breathed his last, in the 59th year of his age. He had
spent a little over three years in the convent. The life of Charles V.
was a sad one. Through all his days he was consumed by unsatisfied
ambition, and he seldom enjoyed an hour of contentment. To his son he
said--
"I leave you a heavy burden; for, since my shoulders have borne it, I
have not passed one day exempt from disquietude."
Indeed it would seem that there could have been but little happiness for
anybody in those dark days of feudal oppression and of incessant wars.
Ambition, intrigue, duplicity, reigned over the lives of princes and
nobles, while the masses of the people were ever trampled down by
oppressive lords and contending armies. Europe was a field of fire and
blood. The cimeter of the Turk spared neither mother, maiden nor babe.
Cities and villages were mercilessly burned, cottages set in flames,
fields of grain destroyed, and whole populations carried into slavery,
where they miserably died. And the ravages of Christian warfare, duke
against duke, baron against baron, king against king, were hardly less
cruel and desolating. Balls from opposing batteries regard not the
helpless ones in their range. Charging squadrons must trample down with
iron hoof all who are in their way. The wail of misery rose from every
portion of Europe. The world has surely made some progress since that
day.
There was but very little that was loveable in the character of Charles,
and he seems to have had but very few friends. So intense and earnest
was he in the prosecution of the plans of grandeur which engrossed his
soul, that he was seldom known to smile. He had many of the attributes
of greatness, indomitable energy and perseverance, untiring industry,
comprehensive grasp of thought and capability of superintending the
minutest details. He had, also, a certain fanatic conscientiousness
about him, like that which actuated Saul of Tarsus, when, holding the
garments of those who stoned the martyr, he "verily thought that he was
doing God service."
Many anecdotes are told illustrative of certain estimable traits in his
character. When a boy, like other boys, he was not fond of study, and
being very self-willed, he would not yield to the entreaties of his
tutors. He consequently had but an imperfect education, which may in
part account for his excessive illiberality, and for many of his
stupendous follies. The mind, enlarged by liberal culture, is ever
tolerant. He afterwards regretted exceedingly this neglect of his early
studies. At Genoa, on some public occasion, he was addressed in a Latin
oration, not one word of which he understood.
"I now feel," he said, "the justice of my preceptor Adrian's
remonstrances, who frequently used to predict that I should be punished
for the thoughtlessness of my youth."
He was fond of the society of learned men, and treated them with great
respect. Some of the nobles complained that the emperor treated the
celebrated historian, Guicciardini, with much more respect than he did
them. He replied--
"I can, by a word, create a hundred nobles; but God alone can create a
Guicciardini."
He greatly admired the genius of Titian, and considered him one of the
most resplendent ornaments of his empire. He knew full well that Titian
would be remembered long after thousands of the proudest grandees of his
empire had sunk into oblivion. He loved to go into the studio of the
illustrious painter, and watch the creations of beauty as they rose
beneath his pencil. One day Titian accidentally dropped his brush. The
emperor picked it up, and, presenting it to the artist, said
gracefully--
"Titian is worthy of being served by an emperor."
Charles V. never, apparently, inspired the glow of affection, or an
emotion of enthusiasm in any bosom. He accomplished some reforms in the
German empire, and the only interest his name now excites is the
interest necessarily involved in the sublime drama of his long and
eventful reign.
It is now necessary to retrace our steps for a few years, that we may
note the vicissitudes of Austria, while the empire was passing through
the scenes we have narrated.
Ferdinand I., the brother of Charles V., who was left alone in the
government of Austria, was the second son of Philip the Handsome and
Joanna of Spain. His birth was illustrious, the Emperor Maximilian being
his paternal grandfather, and Ferdinand and Isabella being his
grandparents on his mother's side. He was born in Spain, March 10, 1503,
and received a respectable education. His manners were courteous and
winning, and he was so much more popular than Charles as quite to excite
the jealousy of his imperious and imperial spirit. Charles, upon
attaining the throne, ceded to his brother the Austrian territories,
which then consisted of four small provinces, Austria, Styria, Carinthia
and Carniola, with the Tyrol.
Ferdinand married Ann, princess of Hungary and Bohemia. The death of his
wife's brother Louis made her the heiress of those two crowns, and thus
secured to Ferdinand the magnificent dowry of the kingdoms of Hungary
and Bohemia. But possession of the scepter of those realms was by no
means a sinecure. The Turkish power, which had been for many years
increasing with the most alarming rapidity and had now acquired
appalling strength, kept Hungary, and even the Austrian States, in
constant and terrible alarm.
The Turks, sweeping over Persia, Arabia, Egypt, Syria, all Asia Minor,
crossing the straits and inundating Greece, fierce and semi-savage, with
just civilization enough to organize and guide with skill their
wolf-like ferocity, were now pressing Europe in Spain, in Italy, and
were crowding, in wave after wave of invasion, up the valley of the
Danube. They had created a navy which was able to cope with the most
powerful fleets of Europe, and island after island of the Mediterranean
was yielding to their sway.
In 1520, Solyman, called the Magnificent, overran Bosnia, and advancing
to the Danube, besieged and captured Belgrade, which strong fortress was
considered the only reliable barrier against his encroachments. At the
same time his fleet took possession of the island of Rhodes. After some
slight reverses, which the Turks considered merely embarrassments, they
resumed their aggressions, and Solyman, in 1525, again crossing the
Danube, entered Hungary with an army of two hundred thousand men. Louis,
who was then King of Hungary, brother of the wife of Ferdinand, was able
to raise an army of but thirty thousand to meet him. With more courage
than discretion, leading this feeble band, he advanced to resist the
foe. They met on the plains of Mohatz. The Turks made short work of it.
In a few hours, with their cimeters they hewed down nearly the whole
Christian army. The remnant escaped as lambs from wolves. The king, in
his heavy armor, spurred his horse into a stream to cross in his flight.
In attempting to ascend the bank, the noble charger, who had borne his
master bravely through the flood, fell back upon his rider, and the dead
body of the king was afterward picked up by the Turks, covered with the
mud of the morass. All Hungary would now have fallen into the hands of
the Turks had not Solyman been recalled by a rebellion in one of his own
provinces.
It was this event which placed the crowns of Bohemia and Hungary on the
brow of Ferdinand, and by annexing those two kingdoms to the Austrian
States, elevated Austria to be one of the first powers in Europe.
Ferdinand, thus strengthened sent ambassadors to Constantinople to
demand the restitution of Belgrade and other important towns which the
Turks still held in Hungary.
"Belgrade!" exclaimed the haughty sultan, when he heard the demand. "Go
tell your master that I am collecting troops and preparing for my
expedition. I will suspend at my neck the keys of my Hungarian
fortresses, and will bring them to that plain of Mohatz where Louis, by
the aid of Providence, found defeat and a grave. Let Ferdinand meet and
conquer me, and take them, after severing my head from my body! But if I
find him not there, I will seek him at Buda or follow him to Vienna."
Soon after this Solyman crossed the Danube with three hundred thousand
men, and advancing to Mohatz, encamped for several days upon the plain,
with all possible display or Oriental pomp and magnificence. Thus
proudly he threw down the gauntlet of defiance. But there was no
champion there to take it up. Striking his tents, and spreading his
banners to the breeze, in unimpeded march he ascended the Danube two
hundred miles from Belgrade to the city of Pest. And here his martial
bands made hill and vale reverberate the bugle blasts of victory. Pest,
the ancient capital of Hungary, rich in all the wealth of those days,
with a population of some sixty thousand, was situated on the left bank
of the river. Upon the opposite shore, connected by a fine bridge three
quarters of a mile in width, was the beautiful and opulent city of Buda.
In possession of these two maritime towns, then perhaps the most
important in Hungary, the Turks rioted for a few days in luxury and all
abominable outrage and indulgence, and then, leaving a strong garrison
to hold the fortresses, they continued their march. Pressing
resistlessly onward some hundred miles further, taking all the towns by
the way, on both sides of the Danube, they came to the city of Raab.
It seems incredible that there could have been such an unobstructed
march of the Turks, through the very heart of Hungary. But the Emperor
Charles V. was at that time in Italy, all engrossed in the fiercest
warfare there. Throughout the German empire the Catholics and the
Protestants were engaged in a conflict which absorbed all other
thoughts. And the Protestants resolutely refused to assist in repelling
the Turks while the sword of Catholic vengeance was suspended over them.
From Raab the invading army advanced some hundred miles further to the
very walls of Vienna. Ferdinand, conscious of his inability to meet the
foe in the open field, was concentrating all his available strength to
defend his capital.
At Cremnitz the Turks met with the first serious show of resistance. The
fortress was strong, and the garrison, inspired by the indomitable
energy and courage of their commandant, Nicholas, Count of Salm, for a
month repelled every assault of the foe. Day after day and night after
night the incessant bombardment continued; the walls were crumbed by the
storm of shot; column after column of the Turks rushed to the assault,
but all in vain. The sultan, disappointed and enraged, made one last
desperate effort, but his strong columns, thined, mangled and bleeding,
were compelled to retire in utter discomfiture.
Winter was now approaching. Reinforcements were also hastening from
Vienna, from Bohemia, and from other parts of the German empire.
Solyman, having devastated the country around him, and being all
unprepared for the storms of winter, was compelled to retire. He struck
his tents, and slowly and sullenly descended the Danube, wreaking
diabolical vengeance upon the helpless peasants, killing, burning and
destroying. Leaving a strong garrison to hold what remained of Buda and
Pest, he carried thousands with him into captivity, where, after years
of woe, they passed into the grave.
"'Tis terrible to rouse the lion,
Dreadful to cross the tiger's path;
But the most terrible of terrors,
Is man himself in his wild wrath."
Solyman spent two years in making preparation for another march to
Vienna, resolved to wipe out the disgrace of his last defeat by
capturing all the Austrian States, and of then spreading the terror of
his arms far and wide through the empire of Germany. The energy with
which he acted may be inferred from one well authenticated anecdote
illustrative of his character. He had ordered a bridge to be constructed
across the Drave. The engineer who had been sent to accomplish the task,
after a careful survey, reported that a bridge could not be constructed
at that point. Solyman sent him a linen cord with this message:
"The sultan, thy master, commands thee, without consideration of the
difficulties, to complete the bridge over the Drave. If thou doest it
not, on his arrival he will have thee strangled with this cord."
With a large army, thoroughly drilled, and equipped with all the
enginery of war, the sultan commenced his campaign. His force was so
stupendous and so incumbered with the necessary baggage and heavy
artillery, that it required a march of sixty days to pass from
Constantinople to Belgrade. Ferdinand, in inexpressible alarm, sent
ambassadors to Solyman, hoping to avert the storm by conciliation and
concessions. This indication of weakness but increased the arrogance of
the Turk.
He embarked his artillery on the Danube in a flotilla of three thousand
vessels. Then crossing the Save, which at Belgrade flows into the
Danube, he left the great central river of Europe on his right, and
marching almost due west through Sclavonia, approached the frontiers of
Styria, one of the most important provinces of the Austrian kingdom, by
the shortest route. Still it was a long march of some two hundred miles.
Among the defiles of the Illyrian mountains, through which he was
compelled to pass in his advance to Vienna, he came upon the little
fortress of Guntz, garrisoned only by eight hundred men. Solyman
expected to sweep this slight annoyance away as he would brush a fly
from his face. He sent his advance guard to demolish the impudent
obstacle; then, surprised by the resistance, he pushed forward a few
more battalions; then, enraged at the unexpected strength developed, he
ordered to the attack what he deemed an overwhelming force; and then, in
astonishment and fury, impelled against the fortress the combined
strength of his whole army. But the little crag stood, like a rock
opposing the flooding tide. The waves of war rolled on and dashed
against impenetrable and immovable granite, and were scattered back in
bloody spray. The fortress commanded the pass, and swept it clean with
an unintermitted storm of shot and balls. For twenty-eight days the
fortress resisted the whole force of the Turkish army, and prevented it
from advancing a mile. This check gave the terrified inhabitants of
Vienna, and of the surrounding region, time to unite for the defense of
the capital. The Protestants and the Catholics having settled their
difficulties by the pacification of Ratisbon, as we have before
narrated, combined all their energies; the pope sent his choicest
troops; all the ardent young men of the German empire, from the ocean to
the Alps, rushed to the banners of the cross, and one hundred and thirty
thousand men, including thirty thousand mounted horsemen, were speedily
gathered within and around the walls of Vienna.
Thus thwarted in his plans, Solyman found himself compelled to retreat
ingloriously, by the same path through which he had advanced. Thus
Christendom was relieved of this terrible menace. Though the Turks were
still in possession of Hungary, the allied troops of the empire
strangely dispersed without attempting to regain the kingdom from their
domination.