FERDINAND I.--HIS WARS AND INTRIGUES.
From 1555 To 1562.
John Of Tapoli.--The Instability Of Compacts.--The Sultans's Demands.--A
Reign Of War.--Powers And Duties Of The Monarchs Of Bohemia.--The
Diet.--The King's Desire To Crush Protestantism.--The Entrance To
Prague.--Terror Of The Inhabitants.--The King's Conditions.--The Bloody
Diet.--Disciplinary Measures.--The Establishment Of The Order Of
Jesuits.--abdication Of Charles V. In Favor Of Ferdinand.--Power Of The
Pope.--Paul IV.--A Quiet But Powerful Blow.--The Progress Of The
Reformers.--Attempts To Reconcile The Protestants--The Unsuccessful
Assembly.
During all the wars with the Turks, a Transylvanian count, John of
Tapoli, was disputing Ferdinand's right to the throne of Hungary and
claiming it for himself. He even entered into negotiations with the
Turks, and coöperated with Solyman in his invasion of Hungary, having
the promise of the sultan that he should be appointed king of the realm
as soon as it was brought in subjection to Turkey. The Turks had now
possession of Hungary, and the sultan invested John of Tapoli with the
sovereignty of the kingdom, in the presence of a brilliant assemblage of
the officers of his army and of the Hungarian nobles.
The last discomfiture and retreat of Solyman encouraged Ferdinand to
redoubled exertions to reconquer Hungary from the combined forces of the
Turks and his Transylvanian rival. Several years passed away in
desultory, indecisive warfare, while John held his throne as tributary
king to the sultan. At last Ferdinand, finding that he could not resist
their united strength, and John becoming annoyed by the exactions of his
Turkish master, they agreed to a compromise, by which John, who was
aged, childless and infirm, was to remain king of all that part of
Hungary which he held until he died; and the whole kingdom was then to
revert to Ferdinand and his heirs--But it was agreed that should John
marry and have a son, that son should be viceroy, or, as the title then
was, _univode_, of his father's hereditary domain of _Transylvania_,
having no control over any portion of Hungary proper.
Somewhat to the disappointment of Ferdinand, the old monarch immediately
married a young bride. A son was born to them, and in fourteen days
after his birth the father died of a stroke of apoplexy. The child was
entitled to the viceroyship of Transylvania, while all the rest of
Hungary was to pass unincumbered to Ferdinand. But Isabella, the
ambitious young mother, who had married the decrepit monarch that she
might enjoy wealth and station, had no intention that her babe should be
less of a king than his father was. She was the daughter of Sigismond,
King of Poland, and relying upon the support of her regal father she
claimed the crown of Hungary for her boy, in defiance of the solemn
compact. In that age of chivalry a young and beautiful woman could
easily find defenders whatever might be her claims. Isabella soon
rallied around her banner many Hungarian nobles, and a large number of
adventurous knights from Poland.
Under her influence a large party of nobles met, chose the babe their
king, and crowned him, under the name of Stephen, with a great display
of military and religious pomp. They then conveyed him and his mother to
the strong castle of Buda and dispatched an embassy to the sultan at
Constantinople, avowing homage to him, as their feudal lord, and
imploring his immediate and vigorous support.
Ferdinand, thus defrauded, and conscious of his inability to rescue the
crown from the united forces of the Hungarian partisans of Stephen, and
from the Turks, condescended also to send a message to the sultan,
offering to hold the crown as his fief and to pay to the Porte the same
tribute which John had paid, if the sultan would support his claim. The
imperious Turk, knowing that he could depose the baby king at his
pleasure, insultingly rejected the proposals which Ferdinand had
humiliated himself in advancing. He returned in answer, that he
demanded, as the price of peace, not only that Ferdinand should renounce
all claim whatever to the crown of Hungary, but that he should also
acknowledge the Austrian territories as under vassalage to the Turkish
empire, and pay tribute accordingly.
Ferdinand, at the same time that he sent his embassy to Constantinople,
without waiting for a reply dispatched an army into Hungary, which
reached Buda and besieged Isabella and her son in the citadel.
He pressed the siege with such vigor that Isabella must have surrendered
had not an army of Turks come to her rescue. The Austrian troops were
defeated and dispersed. The sultan himself soon followed with a still
larger army, took possession of the city, secured the person of the
queen and the infant prince, and placed a garrison of ten thousand
janissaries in the citadel. The Turkish troops spread in all directions,
establishing themselves in towns, castles, fortresses, and setting at
defiance all Ferdinand's efforts to dislodge them. These events occurred
during the reign of the Emperor Charles V. The resources of Ferdinand
had become so exhausted that he was compelled, while affairs were in
this state, in the year 1545, ten years before the abdication of the
emperor, to implore of Solyman a suspension of arms.
The haughty sultan reluctantly consented to a truce of five years upon
condition that Ferdinand would pay him an annual tribute of about sixty
thousand dollars, and become feudatory of the Porte. To these
humiliating conditions Ferdinand felt compelled to assent. Solyman, thus
relieved from any trouble on the part of Ferdinand, compelled the queen
to renounce to himself all right which either she or her son had to the
throne. And now for many years we have nothing but a weary record of
intrigues, assassinations, wars and woes. Miserable Hungary was but a
field of blood. There were three parties, Ferdinand, Stephen and
Solyman, all alike ready to be guilty of any inhumanity or to perpetrate
any perfidy in the accomplishment of their plans. Ferdinand with his
armies held one portion of Hungary, Solyman another, and Stephen, with
his strong partisans another. Bombardment succeeded bombardment; cities
and provinces were now overrun by one set of troops and now by another;
the billows of war surged to and fro incessantly, and the wail of the
widow and the cry of the orphan ascended by day and by night to the ear
of God.
In 1556 the Turks again invested Stephen with the government of that
large portion of Hungary which they held, including Transylvania.
Ferdinand still was in possession of several important fortresses, and
of several of the western districts of Hungary bordering on the Austrian
States. Isabella, annoyed by her subjection to the Turks, made
propositions to Ferdinand for a reconciliation, and a truce was agreed
upon which gave the land rest for a few years.
While these storms were sweeping over Hungary, events of scarcely less
importance were transpiring in Bohemia. This kingdom was an elective
monarchy, and usually upon the death of a king the fiercest strife
ensued as to who should be his successor. The elected monarch, on
receiving the crown, was obliged to recognize the sovereignty of the
people as having chosen him for their ruler, and he promised to govern
according to the ancient constitution of the kingdom. The monarch,
however, generally found no difficulty in surrounding himself with such
strong supporters as to secure the election of his son or heir, and
frequently he had his successor chosen before his death. Thus the
monarchy, though nominally elective, was in its practical operation
essentially hereditary.
The authority of the crown was quite limited. The monarch was only
intrusted with so much power as the proud nobles were willing to
surrender to one of their number whom they appointed chief, whose
superiority they reluctantly acknowledged, and against whom they were
very frequently involved in wars. In those days the _people_ had hardly
a recognized existence. The nobles met in a congress called a diet, and
authorized their elected chief, the king, to impose taxes, raise troops,
declare war and institute laws according to their will. These diets were
differently composed under different reigns, and privileged cities were
sometimes authorized to send deputies whom they selected from the most
illustrious of their citizens. The king usually convoked the diets; but
in those stormy times of feuds, conspiracies and wars, there was hardly
any general rule. The nobles, displeased at some act of the king, would
themselves, through some one or more of their number, summon a diet and
organize resistance. The numbers attending such an irregular body were
of course very various. There appear to have been diets of the empire
composed of not more than half a dozen individuals, and others where as
many hundreds were assembled. Sometimes the meetings were peaceful, and
again tumultuous with the clashing of arms.
In Bohemia the conflict between the Catholics and the reformers had
raged with peculiar acrimony, and the reformers in that kingdom had
become a very numerous and influential body. Ferdinand was anxious to
check the progress of the Reformation, and he exerted all the power he
could command to defend and maintain Catholic supremacy. For ten years
Ferdinand was absent from Bohemia, all his energies being absorbed by
the Hungarian war. He was anxious to weaken the power of the nobles in
Bohemia. There was ever, in those days, either an open or a smothered
conflict between the king and the nobles, the monarch striving to grasp
more power, the nobles striving to keep him in subjection to them.
Ferdinand attempted to disarm the nobles by sending for all the
artillery of the kingdom, professing that he needed it to carry on his
war with the Turks. But the wary nobles held on to their artillery. He
then was guilty of the folly of hunting up some old exploded compacts,
in virtue of which he declared that Bohemia was not an elective but a
hereditary monarchy, and that he, as hereditary sovereign, held the
throne for himself and his heirs.
This announcement spread a flame of indignation through all the castles
of Bohemia. The nobles rallied, called a diet, passed strong
resolutions, organized an army, and adopted measures for vigorous
resistance. But Ferdinand was prepared for all these demonstrations. His
Hungarian truce enabled him to march a strong army on Bohemia. The party
in power has always numerous supporters from those who, being in office,
will lose their dignities by revolution. The king summoned all the well
affected to repair to his standards, threatening condign punishment to
all who did not give this proof of loyalty. Nobles and knights in great
numbers flocked to his encampment. With menacing steps his battalions
strode on, and triumphantly entered Prague, the capital city, situated
in the very heart of the kingdom.
The indignation in the city was great, but the king was too strong to be
resisted, and he speedily quelled all movements of tumult. Prague,
situated upon the steep and craggy banks of the Moldau, spanning the
stream, and with its antique dwellings rising tier above tier upon the
heights, is one of the most grand and imposing capitals of Europe. About
one hundred and twenty thousand inhabitants crowd its narrow streets and
massive edifices. Castles, fortresses, somber convents and the Gothic
palaces of the old Bohemian monarchs, occupying every picturesque
locality, as gray with age as the eternal crags upon which they stand,
and exhibiting every fantastic variety of architecture, present an
almost unrivaled aspect of beauty and of grandeur. The Palace on the
Hill alone is larger than the imperial palace at Vienna, containing over
four hundred apartments, some of them being rooms of magnificent
dimensions. The cathedral within the precincts of this palace occupied
more than one hundred and fifty years in its erection.
Ferdinand, with the iron energy and determined will of an enraged,
successful despot, stationed his troops at the gates, the bridges and at
every commanding position, and thus took military possession of the
city. The inhabitants, overawed and helpless, were in a state of terror.
The emperor summoned six hundred of the most influential of the citizens
to his palace, including all who possessed rank or office or wealth.
Tremblingly they came. As soon as they had entered, the gates were
closed and guarded, and they were all made prisoners. The king then,
seated upon his throne, in his royal robes, and with his armed officers
around him, ordered the captives like culprits to be led before him.
Sternly he charged them with treason, and demanded what excuse they had
to offer. They were powerless, and their only hope was in
self-abasement. One, speaking in the name of the rest, said:
"We will not presume to enter into any defense of our conduct with our
king and master. We cast ourselves upon his royal mercy."
They then all simultaneously threw themselves upon their knees,
imploring his pardon. The king allowed them to remain for some time in
that posture, that he might enjoy their humiliation. He then ordered his
officers to conduct them into the hall of justice, and detain them there
until he had decided respecting their punishment. For some hours they
were kept in this state of suspense. He then informed them, that out of
his great clemency he had decided to pardon them on the following
conditions.
They were to surrender all their constitutional privileges, whatever
they were, into the hands of the king, and be satisfied with whatever
privileges he might condescend to confer upon them. They were to bring
all their artillery, muskets and ammunition to the palace, and surrender
them to his officers; all the revenues of the city, together with a tax
upon malt and beer, were to be paid into his hands for his disposal, and
all their vassals, and their property of every kind, they were to resign
to the king and to his heirs, whom they were to acknowledge as the
_hereditary_ successors to the throne of Bohemia. Upon these conditions
the king promised to spare the rebellious city, and to pardon all the
offenders, excepting a few of the most prominent, whom he was determined
to punish with such severity as to prove an effectual warning to all
others.
The prisoners were terrified into the immediate ratification of these
hard terms. They were then all released, excepting forty, who were
reserved for more rigorous punishment. In the same manner the king sent
a summons to all the towns of the kingdom; and by the same terrors the
same terms were extorted. All the rural nobles, who had manifested a
spirit of resistance, were also summoned before a court of justice for
trial. Some fled the kingdom. Their estates were confiscated to
Ferdinand, and they were sentenced to death should they ever return.
Many others were deprived of their possessions. Twenty-six were thrown
into prison, and two condemned to public execution.
The king, having thus struck all the discontented with terror, summoned
a diet to meet in his palace at Prague. They met the 22d of August,
1547. A vast assemblage was convened, as no one who was summoned dared
to stay away. The king, wishing to give an intimation to the diet of
what they were to expect should they oppose his wishes, commenced the
session by publicly hanging four of the most illustrious of his
captives. One of these, high judge of the kingdom, was in the seventieth
year of his age. The Bloody Diet, as it has since been called, was
opened, and Ferdinand found all as pliant as he could wish. The royal
discipline had effected wonders. The slightest intimation of Ferdinand
was accepted with eagerness.
The execrable tyrant wished to impress the whole kingdom with a salutary
dread of incurring his paternal displeasure. He brought out the forty
prisoners who still remained in their dungeons. Eight of the most
distinguished men of the kingdom were led to three of the principal
cities, in each of which, in the public square, they were ignominiously
and cruelly whipped on the bare back. Before each flagellation the
executioner proclaimed--
"These men are punished because they are traitors, and because they
excited the people against their _hereditary_ master."
They then, with eight others, their property being confiscated, in utter
beggary, were driven as vagabonds from the kingdom. The rest, after
being impoverished by fines, were restored to liberty. Ferdinand adopted
vigorous measures to establish his despotic power. Considering the
Protestant religion as peculiarly hostile to despotism, in the
encouragement it afforded to education, to the elevation of the masses,
and to the diffusion of those principles of fraternal equality which
Christ enjoined; and considering the Catholic religion as the great
bulwark of kingly power, by the intolerance of the Church teaching the
benighted multitudes subjection to civil intolerance, Ferdinand, with
unceasing vigilance, and with melancholy success, endeavored to
eradicate the Lutheran doctrines from the kingdom. He established the
most rigorous censorship of the press, and would allow no foreign work,
unexamined, to enter the realm. He established in Bohemia the fanatic
order of the Jesuits, and intrusted to them the education of the young.
It is often impossible to reconcile the inconsistencies of the human
heart. Ferdinand, while guilty of such atrocities, affected, on some
points, the most scrupulous punctilios of honor. The clearly-defined
privileges which had been promised the Protestants, he would not
infringe in the least. They were permitted to give their children
Protestant teachers, and to conduct worship in their own way. He
effected his object of changing Bohemia from an elective to a hereditary
monarchy, and thus there was established in Bohemia the renowned
doctrine of regal legitimacy; of the _divine right_ of kings to govern.
With such a bloody hand was the doctrine of the sovereignty, not of the
_people_, but of the _nobles_, overthrown in Bohemia. The nobles are not
much to be commiserated, for they trampled upon the people as
mercilessly as the king did upon them. It is merely another illustration
of the old and melancholy story of the strong devouring the weak: the
owl takes the wren; the eagle the owl.
Bohemia, thus brought in subjection to a single mind, and shackled in
its spirit of free enterprise, began rapidly to exhibit symptoms of
decline and decay. It was a great revolution, accomplished by cunning
and energy, and maintained by the terrors of confiscation, exile and
death.
The Emperor Charles V., it will be remembered, had attempted in vain to
obtain the reversion of the imperial crown for his son Philip at his own
death. The crown of Spain was his hereditary possession, and that he
could transmit to his son. But the crown of the empire was elective.
Charles V. was so anxious to secure the imperial dignity for his son,
that he retained the crown of the empire for some months after
abdicating that of Spain, still hoping to influence the electors in
their choice. But there were so many obstacles in the way of the
recognition of the young Philip as emperor, that Charles, anxious to
retain the dignity in the family, reluctantly yielded to the intrigues
of his brother Ferdinand, who had now become so powerful that he could
perhaps triumph over any little irregularity in the succession and
silence murmurs.
Consequently, Charles, nine months after the abdication of the thrones
of the Low Countries and of Spain, tried the experiment of abdicating
the _elective_ crown of the empire in favor of Ferdinand. It was in many
respects such an act as if the President of the United States should
abdicate in favor of some one of his own choice. The emperor had,
however, a semblance of right to place the scepter in the hands of whom
he would during his lifetime. But, upon the death of the emperor, would
his appointee still hold his power, or would the crown at that moment be
considered as falling from his brow? It was the 7th of August, 1556,
when the emperor abdicated the throne of the empire in behalf of his
brother Ferdinand. It was a new event in history, without a precedent,
and the matter was long and earnestly discussed throughout the German
States. Notwithstanding all Ferdinand's energy, sagacity and despotic
power, two years elapsed before he could secure the acknowledgment of
his title, by the German States, and obtain a proclamation of his
imperial state.
The pope had thus far had such an amazing control over the conscience,
or rather the superstition of Europe, that the choice of the electors
was ever subject to the ratification of the holy father. It was
necessary for the emperor elect to journey to Rome, and be personally
crowned by the hands of the pope, before he could be considered in legal
possession of the imperial title and of a right to the occupancy of the
throne. Julius II., under peculiar circumstances, allowed Maximilian to
assume the title of _emperor elect_ while he postponed his visit to Rome
for coronation; but the want of the papal sanction, by the imposition of
the crown upon his brow by those _sacred hands_, thwarted Maximilian in
some of his most fondly-cherished measures.
Paul IV. was now pontiff, an old man, jealous of his prerogatives,
intolerant in the extreme, and cherishing the most exorbitant sense of
his spiritual power. He execrated the Protestants, and was indignant
with Ferdinand that he had shown them any mercy at all. But Ferdinand,
conscious of the importance of a papal coronation, sent a very
obsequious embassy to Rome, announcing his appointment as emperor, and
imploring the benediction of the holy father and the reception of the
crown from his hands. The haughty and disdainful reply of the pope was
characteristic of the times and of the man. It was in brief, as follows:
"The Emperor Charles has behaved like a madman; and his acts are no more
to be respected than the ravings of insanity. Charles V. received the
imperial crown from the head of the Church; in abdicating, that crown
could only return to the sacred hands which conferred it. The nomination
of Ferdinand as his successor we pronounce to be null and void. The
alleged ratification of the electors is a mockery, dishonored and
vitiated as it is by the votes of electors polluted with heresy. We
therefore command Ferdinand to relinquish all claim to the imperial
crown."
The irascible old pontiff, buried beneath the senseless pomps of the
Vatican, was not at all aware of the change which Protestant preaching
and writing had effected in the public mind of Germany. Italy was still
slumbering in the gloom of the dark ages; but light was beginning to
dawn upon the hills of the empire. One half of the population of the
German empire would rally only the more enthusiastically around
Ferdinand, if he would repel all papal assumptions with defiance and
contempt. Ferdinand was the wiser and the better informed man of the
two. He conducted with dignity and firmness which make us almost forget
his crimes. A diet was summoned, and it was quietly decreed that a
_papal coronation was no longer necessary_. That one short line was the
heaviest blow the papal throne had yet received. From it, it never
recovered and never can recover.
Paul IV. was astounded at such effrontery, and as soon as he had
recovered a little from his astonishment, alarmed in view of such a
declaration of independence, he took counsel of discretion, and
humiliating as it was, made advances for a reconciliation. Ferdinand was
also anxious to be on good terms with the pope. While negotiations were
pending, Paul died, his death being perhaps hastened by chagrin. Pius
IV. succeeded him, and pressed still more earnestly overtures for
reconciliation Ferdinand, through his ambassador, expressed his
willingness to pledge the accustomed _devotion_ and _reverence_ to the
head of the Church, omitting the word _obedience_. But the pope was
anxious, above all things, to have that emphatic word _obey_ introduced
into the ritual of subjection, and after employing all the arts of
diplomacy and cajolery, carried his point. Ferdinand, with duplicity
which was not honorable, let the word remain, saying that it was not his
act, but that of his ambassador. The pope affected satisfaction with the
formal acknowledgment of his power, while Ferdinand ever after refused
to recognize his authority. Thus terminated the long dependence, running
through ages of darkness and delusion, of the German emperors upon the
Roman see.
Ferdinand did not trouble himself to receive the crown from the pope,
and since his day the emperors of Germany have no longer been exposed to
the expense and the trouble of a journey to Rome for their coronation.
Though Ferdinand was strongly attached to the tenets of the papal
church, and would gladly have eradicated Protestantism from his domains,
he was compelled to treat the Protestants with some degree of
consideration, as he needed the aid of their arms in the wars in which
he was incessantly involved with the Turks. He even made great efforts
to introduce some measure of conciliation which should reconcile the two
parties, and thus reunite his realms under one system of doctrine and of
worship.
Still Protestantism was making rapid strides all over Europe. It had
become the dominant religion in Denmark and Sweden, and, by the
accession of Elizabeth to the throne of England, was firmly established
in that important kingdom. In France also the reformed religion had made
extensive inroads, gathering to its defense many of the noblest spirits,
in rank and intellect, in the realm. The terrors of the inquisition had
thus far prevented the truth from making much progress in Spain and
Portugal.
With the idea of promoting reconciliation, Ferdinand adopted a measure
which contributed greatly to his popularity with the Protestants. He
united with France and Spain in urging Pius IV., a mild and pliant
pontiff, to convene a council in Germany to heal the religious feud. He
drew up a memorial, which was published and widely scattered, declaring
that the Protestants had become far too powerful to be treated with
outrage or contempt; that there were undeniable wrongs in the Church
which needed to be reformed; and that no harm could accrue from
permitting the clergy to marry, and to administer both bread and wine to
the communicants in the Lord's Supper. It was a doctrine of the Church
of Rome, that the laity could receive the bread only; the wine was
reserved for the officiating priest.
This memorial of Ferdinand, drawn up with much distinctness and great
force of argument, was very grateful to the Protestants, but very
displeasing to the court of Rome. These conflicts raged for several
years without any decisive results. The efforts of Ferdinand to please
both parties, as usual, pleased neither. By the Protestants he was
regarded as a persecutor and intolerant; while the Catholics accused him
of lukewarmness, of conniving at heresy and of dishonoring the Church by
demanding of her concessions derogatory to her authority and her
dignity.
Ferdinand, finding that the Church clung with deathly tenacity to its
corruptions, assumed himself quite the attitude of a reformer. A
memorable council had been assembled at Trent on the 15th of January,
1562. Ferdinand urged the council to exhort the pope to examine if there
was not room for some reform in his own person, state or court.
"Because," said he, "the only true method to obtain authority for the
reformation of others, is to begin by amending oneself." He commented
upon the manifest impropriety of scandalous indulgences: of selling the
sacred offices of the Church to the highest bidder, regardless of
character; of extorting fees for the administration of the sacrament of
the Lord's Supper; of offering prayers and performing the services of
public devotion in a language which the people could not understand; and
other similar and most palpable abuses. Even the kings of France and
Spain united with the emperor in these remonstrances.
It is difficult now to conceive of the astonishment and indignation with
which the pope and his adherents received these very reasonable
suggestions, coming not from the Protestants but from the most staunch
advocates of the papacy. The see of Rome, corrupt to its very core,
would yield nothing. The more senseless and abominable any of its
corruptions were, the more tenaciously did pope and cardinals cling to
them. At last the emperor, in despair of seeing any thing accomplished,
requested that the assembly might be dissolved, saying, "Nothing good
can be expected, even if it continue its sittings for a hundred years."