HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH

FROM THE RENAISSANCE TO THE FRENCH REVOLUTION

VOLUME I

BY

Rev. JAMES MacCAFFREY
Lic. Theol. (Maynooth), Ph.D. (Freiburg i. B.)
Professor of Ecclesiastical History, St. Patrick's College, Maynooth

Nihil Obstat:
Thomas O'Donnell, C.M.
Censor Theol. Deput.

Imprimi Potest:
Guilielmus,
Archiep. Dublinen.,
Hiberniae Primas.

Dublini, 16 Decembris, 1914.

PREFACE

The fifteenth century may be regarded as a period of transition from the ideals of the Middle Ages to those of modern times. The world was fast becoming more secular in its tendencies, and, as a necessary result, theories and principles that had met till then with almost universal acceptance in literature, in art, in education, and in government, were challenged by many as untenable.

Scholasticism, which had monopolised the attention of both schools and scholars since the days of St. Anselm and Abelard, was called upon to defend its claims against the advocates of classical culture; the theocratico-imperial conception of Christian society as expounded by the canonists and lawyers of an earlier period was forced into the background by the appearance of nationalism and individualism, which by this time had become factors to be reckoned with by the ecclesiastical and civil rulers; the Feudal System, which had received a mortal blow by the intermingling of the classes and the masses in the era of the Crusades, was threatened, from above, by the movement towards centralisation and absolutism, and from below, by the growing discontent of the peasantry and artisans, who had begun to realise, but as yet only in a vague way, their own strength. In every department the battle for supremacy was being waged between the old and the new, and the printing-press was at hand to enable the patrons of both to mould the thoughts and opinions of the Christian world.

It was, therefore, an age of unrest and of great intellectual activity, and at all such times the claims of the Church as the guardian and expounder of Divine Revelation are sure to be questioned. Not that the Church has need to fear inquiry, or that the claims of faith and reason are incompatible, but because some daring spirits are always to be reckoned with, who, by mistaking hypotheses for facts, succeed in convincing themselves and their followers that those in authority are unprogressive, and as such, to be despised.

This was particularly true of some of the Humanists. At first sight, indeed, it is difficult to understand why the revival of classical learning should lead to the danger of the rejection of Christian Revelation, seeing that the appreciation of the great literary products of Greece and Rome, and that, even in the days of the Renaissance, the Popes and the bishops were reckoned amongst the most generous patrons of the classical movement. Yet the violence of extreme partisans on both sides rendered a conflict almost unavoidable.

On the one hand, many of the classical enthusiasts, not content with winning for their favourite studies a most important place on the programmes of the schools, were determined to force on the Christian body the ideals, the culture, and the outlook on the world, which found their best expression in the masterpieces of pagan literature; while, on the other, not a few of the champions of Scholastic Philosophy seemed to have convinced themselves that Scholasticism and Christianity were identified so closely that rejection or criticism of the former must imply disloyalty to the latter. The Humanists mocked at the Scholastics and dubbed them obscurantists on account of their barbarous Latinity, their uncritical methods, and their pointless wranglings; the Scholastics retorted by denouncing their opponents as pagans, or, at least, heretics. In this way the claims of religion were drawn into the arena, and, as neither the extreme Scholastics nor the extreme Humanists had learned to distinguish between dogmas and systems, between what was essential and what was tentative, there was grave danger that religion would suffer in the eyes of educated men on account of the crude methods of those who claimed to be its authorised exponents.

Undoubtedly, at such a period of unrest, the Church could hardly expect to escape attack. Never since the days when she was called upon to defend her position against the combined forces of the Pagan world had she been confronted with such a serious crisis, and seldom, if ever, was she so badly prepared to withstand the onslaughts of her enemies. The residence at Avignon, the Great Western Schism, and the conciliar theories to which the Schism gave rise, had weakened the power of the Papacy at the very time when the bonds of religious unity were being strained almost to the snapping point by the growth of national jealousy. Partly owing to the general downward tendency of the age, but mainly on account of the interference of the secular authorities with ecclesiastical appointments, the gravest abuses had manifested themselves in nearly every department of clerical life, and the cry for reform rose unbidden to the lips of thousands who entertained no thought of revolution. But the distinction between the divine and the human element in the Church was not appreciated by all, with the result that a great body of Christians, disgusted with the unworthiness of some of their pastors, were quite ready to rise in revolt whenever a leader should appear to sound the trumpet-call of war.

Nor had they long to wait till a man arose, in Germany, to marshal the forces of discontent and to lead them against the Church of Rome. Though in his personal conduct Luther fell far short of what people might reasonably look for in a self-constituted reformer, yet in many respects he had exceptional qualifications for the part that he was called upon to play. Endowed with great physical strength, gifted with a marvellous memory and a complete mastery of the German language, as inspiring in the pulpit or on the platform as he was with his pen, regardless of nice limitations or even of truth when he wished to strike down an opponent or to arouse the enthusiasm of a mob, equally at home with princes in the drawing-room as with peasants in a tavern —Luther was an ideal demagogue to head a semi-religious, semi-social revolt. He had a keen appreciation of the tendencies of the age, and of the thoughts that were coursing through men's minds, and he had sufficient powers of organisation to know how to direct the different forces at work into the same channel. Though fundamentally the issue raised by him was a religious one, yet it is remarkable what a small part religion played in deciding the result of the struggle. The world-wide jealousy of the House of Habsburg, the danger of a Turkish invasion, the long-drawn-out struggle between France and the Empire for supremacy in Europe and for the provinces on the left bank of the Rhine, and the selfish policy of the German princes, contributed much more to his success than the question of justification or the principle of private judgment. Without doubt, in Germany, in Switzerland, in England, in the Netherlands, and in the Scandinavian countries, the Reformation was much more a political than a religious movement.

The fundamental principle of the new religion was the principle of private judgment, and yet such a principle found no place in the issues raised by Luther in the beginning. It was only when he was confronted with the decrees of previous councils, with the tradition of the Church as contained in the writings of the Fathers, and with the authoritative pronouncements of the Holy See, all of which were in direct contradiction to his theories, that he felt himself obliged, reluctantly, to abandon the principle of authority in favour of the principle of private judgment. In truth it was the only possible way in which he could hope to defend his novelties, and besides, it had the additional advantage of catering for the rising spirit of individualism, which was so characteristic of the age.

His second great innovation, so far as the divine constitution of the Church was concerned, and the one which secured ultimately whatever degree of success his revolution attained, was the theory of royal supremacy, or the recognition of the temporal ruler as the source of spiritual jurisdiction. But even this was more or less of an after- thought. Keen student of contemporary politics that Luther was, he perceived two great influences at work, one, patronised by the sovereigns in favour of absolute rule, the other, supported by the masses in favour of unrestricted liberty. He realised from the beginning that it was only by combining his religious programme with one or other of these two movements that he could have any hope of success. At first, impressed by the strength of the popular party as manifested in the net-work of secret societies then spread throughout Germany, and by the revolutionary attitude of the landless nobles, who were prepared to lead the peasants, he determined to raise the cry of civil and religious liberty, and to rouse the masses against the princes and kings, as well as against their bishops and the Pope. But soon the success of the German princes in the Peasants' War made it clear to him that an alliance between the religious and the social revolution was fraught with dangerous consequences; and, at once, he went to the other extreme.

The gradual weakening of the Feudal System, which acted as a check upon the authority of the rulers, and the awakening of the national consciousness, prepared the way for the policy of centralisation. France, which consisted formerly of a collection of almost independent provinces, was welded together into one united kingdom; a similar change took place in Spain after the union of Castile and Aragon and the fall of the Moorish power at Granada. In England the disappearance of the nobles in the Wars of the Roses led to the establishment of the Tudor domination. As a result of this centralisation the Kings of France, Spain, and England, and the sovereign princes of Germany received a great increase of power, and resolved to make themselves absolute masters in their own dominions.

Having abandoned the unfortunate peasants who had been led to slaughter by his writings, Luther determined to make it clear that his religious policy was in complete harmony with the political absolutism aimed at by the temporal rulers. With this object in view he put forward the principle of royal supremacy, according to which the king or prince was to be recognised as the head of the church in his own territories, and the source of all spiritual jurisdiction. By doing so he achieved two very important results. He had at hand in the machinery of civil government the nucleus of a new ecclesiastical organisation, the shaping of which had been his greatest worry; and, besides, he won for his new movement the sympathy and active support of the civil rulers, to whom the thought of becoming complete masters of ecclesiastical patronage and of the wealth of the Church opened up the most rosy prospects. In Germany, in England, and in the northern countries of Europe, it was the principle of royal supremacy that turned the scales eventually in favour of the new religion, while, at the same time, it led to the establishment of absolutism both in theory and practice. From the recognition of the sovereign as supreme master both in Church and State the theory of the divine rights of kings as understood in modern times followed as a necessary corollary. There was no longer any possibility of suggesting limitations or of countenancing rebellion. The king, in his own territories, had succeeded to all the rights and privileges which, according to the divine constitution of the Church, belonged to the Pope.

Such a development in the Protestant countries could not fail to produce its effects even on Catholic rulers who had remained loyal to the Church. They began to aim at combining, as far as possible, the Protestant theory of ecclesiastical government with obedience to the Pope, by taking into their own hands the administration of ecclesiastical affairs, by making the bishops and clergy state- officials, and by leaving to the Pope only a primacy of honour. This policy, known under the different names of Gallicanism in France, and of Febronianism and Josephism in the Empire, led of necessity to conflicts between Rome and the Catholic sovereigns of Europe, conflicts in which, unfortunately, many of the bishops, influenced by mistaken notions of loyalty and patriotism, took the side of their own sovereigns. As a result, absolute rule was established throughout Europe; the rights of the people to any voice in government were trampled upon, and the rules became more despotic than the old Roman Emperors had been even in their two-fold capacity of civil ruler and high priest.

Meanwhile, the principle of private judgment had produced its logical effects. Many of Luther's followers, even in his own lifetime, had been induced to reject doctrines accepted by their master, but, after his death, when the influence of Tradition and of authority had become weaker, Lutheranism was reduced to a dogmatic chaos. By the application of the principle of private judgment, certain leaders began to call in question, not merely individual doctrines, but even the very foundations of Christianity, and, in a short time, Atheism and Naturalism were recognised as the hall-mark of education and good breeding.

The civil rulers even in Catholic countries took no very active steps to curb the activity of the anti-Christian writers and philosophers, partly because they themselves were not unaffected by the spirit of irreligion, and partly also because they were not sorry to see popular resentment diverted from their own excesses by being directed against the Church. But, in a short time, they realised, when it was too late, that the overthrow of religious authority carries with it as a rule the overthrow of civil authority also, and that the attempt to combine the two principles of private judgment and of royal supremacy must lead of necessity to revolution.

* * * * *

I wish to express my sincere thanks to the many friends who have assisted me, and particularly to the Very Rev. Thomas O'Donnell, C.M., President, All Hallows College. My special thanks are due also to the Rev. Patrick O'Neill (Limerick), who relieved me of much anxiety by undertaking the difficult task of compiling the Index.

James MacCaffrey.

St. Patrick's College, Maynooth,
Feast of the Immaculate Conception.

HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH

From the Renaissance to the
French Revolution

CHAPTER I

CAUSES OF THE REFORMATION

(a) The Renaissance.

Baudrillart, /The Catholic Church, The Renaissance, and Protestantism (Tr.)/, 1908 (chap. i.-iii.). Guirard, /L'Eglise et les Origines de la Renaissance/, 1902. Burckhardt, /Die Cultur der Renaissance in Italien/, 11 auf., 1913 (Eng. Trans. by Middlemore, 1878). A Baumgartner, S.J., /Geschichte der Weltiteratur/, vol. iv., 1900. /The Cambridge Modern History/, vol. i. (/The Renaissance/, 1902). Stone, /The Reformation and Renaissance/, 1904. Janssen, /Geschichte des deutschen Volkes/, 1887 (Eng. Trans. by Mitchell and Christie, London, 1896 sqq.). Pastor, /Geschichte der Papste im Zeitalter der Renaissance/, Freiburg, 1886 sqq. (Eng. Trans. by Antrobus, London, 1891 sqq.). Muntz, /La Renaissance en Italie et en France a l'epoque de Charles VIII./, 1885. Gasquet, /The Eve of the Reformation/. Mourret, /La Renaissance et la Reforme/, 1912.

The great intellectual revival, that followed upon the successful issue of the struggle for freedom waged by Gregory VII. and his successors, reached the zenith of its glory in the thirteenth century. Scholasticism, as expounded by men like Alexander of Hales, Albert the Great, Roger Bacon, St. Bonaventure, and St. Thomas, and illustrated by a wealth of material drawn alike from the Scriptures, the writings of the Fathers, the wisdom of Pagan philosophers, and the conclusions of natural science, was alone deemed worthy of serious attention. Classical studies either were neglected entirely even in the centres of learning, or were followed merely for the assistance they might render in the solution of the philosophical and theological problems, that engaged men's minds in an age when Christian faith reigned supreme.

The Catholic Church, indeed, had never been hostile to classical studies, nor unmindful of their value, as a means of developing the powers of the human mind, and of securing both breadth of view and beauty of expression. Some few teachers here and there, alarmed by the danger of corrupting Christian youth by bringing it into contact with Pagan ideals, raised their voices in protest, but the majority of the early Fathers disregarded these warnings as harmful and unnecessary. Origen, St. Clement of Alexandria, St. Gregory of Nazianzen, St. Basil, and St. Jerome, while not ignoring the dangers of such studies, recommended them warmly to their students, and in the spirit of these great leaders the Catholic Church strove always to combine classical culture and Christian education.

With the fall of the Empire, consequent upon its invasion by the barbarian hordes, classical studies were banished to some extent to the Western Isles, Ireland and Britain, from which they were transplanted to the Continent principally during the Carlovingian revival.[1] In the cathedral, collegiate, and monastic schools the classics were still cultivated, though beyond doubt compilations were used more frequently than were the original works; and even in the darkest days of the dark ages some prominent ecclesiastics could be found well versed at least in the language and literature of Rome. It looked, too, for a time, as if the intellectual revival of the twelfth century were to be turned towards the classics; but the example of men like John of Salisbury was not followed generally, and the movement developed rapidly in the direction of philosophy. As a consequence, the study of Latin was neglected or relegated to a secondary place in the schools, while Greek scholarship disappeared practically from Western Europe. The Scholastics, more anxious about the logical sequence of their arguments than about the beauties of literary expression, invented for themselves a new dialect, which, however forcible in itself, must have sounded barbarous to any one acquainted with the productions of the golden age of Roman literature or even with the writings of the early Fathers of the Latin Church. Nor was it the language merely that was neglected. The monuments and memorials of an earlier civilisation were disregarded, and even in Rome itself, the City of the Popes, the vandalism of the ignorant wrought dreadful havoc.

So complete a turning away from forces that had played such a part in the civilisation of the world was certain to provoke a reaction. Scholasticism could not hold the field for ever to the exclusion of other branches of study, especially, since in the less competent hands of its later expounders it had degenerated into an empty formalism. The successors of St. Thomas and St. Bonaventure had little of their originality, their almost universal knowledge, and their powers of exposition, and, as a result, students grew tired of the endless wranglings of the schools, and turned their attention to other intellectual pursuits.

Besides, men's ideas of politics, of social order, and of religion were changing rapidly, and, in a word, the whole outlook of the world was undergoing a speedy transformation. In the Middle Ages religion held the dominant position and was the guiding principle in morals, in education, in literature, and in art; but as the faith of many began to grow cold, and as the rights of Church and State began to be distinguished, secularist tendencies soon made themselves felt. Philosophy and theology were no longer to occupy the entire intellectual field, and other subjects for investigation must be found. In these circumstances what was more natural than that some should advocate a return to the classics and all that the classics enshrined? Again, the example set by the tyrants who had grasped the reins of power in the Italian States, by men like Agnello of Pisa, the Viscontis and Francesco Sforza of Milan, Ferrante of Naples, and the de' Medici of Florence, was calculated to lower the moral standard of the period, and to promote an abandonment of Christian principles of truth, and justice, and purity of life. Everywhere men became more addicted to the pursuit of sensual pleasure, of vain glory, and material comfort; and could ill brook the dominant ideas of the Middle Ages concerning the supernatural end of man, self-denial, humility, patience, and contempt for the things that minister only to man's temporal happiness. With views of this kind in the air it was not difficult to persuade them to turn to the great literary masterpieces of Pagan Rome, where they were likely to find principles and ideals more in harmony with their tastes than those set before them by the Catholic Church.

The thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries, then, mark a period of transition from the Middle Ages to modern times. They saw a sharp struggle being waged between two ideals in politics, in education, in literature, in religion, and in morality. In this great upheaval that was characterised by a demand for unrestricted liberty of investigation, a return to the study of nature and of the natural sciences, the rise and development of national literatures, and the appearance of a new school of art, the Humanist movement or the revival of the study of the classics, the /literae humaniores/, played the fundamental part. In more senses than one it may be called the Age of the Renaissance.

Nor was it a matter of chance that this revival of interest in classical studies should have made itself felt first in Italy, where the downfall of the Empire, and the subsequent development of petty states seem to have exercised a magical influence upon the intellectual development of the people. The Italians were the direct heirs to the glory of ancient Rome. Even in the days of their degradation, when the capital deserted by the Popes was fast going to ruin, and when foreigners and native tyrants were struggling for the possession of their fairest territories, the memory of the imperial authority of their country, and the crumbling monuments that bore witness to it still standing in their midst, served to turn their patriotic ardour towards the great literary treasures bequeathed to them by Pagan Rome. Greek literature, too, was not forgotten, though in the thirteenth century few western scholars possessed any acquaintance with the language. Many causes, however, combined to prepare the way for a revival of Greek. The commercial cities of Italy were in close touch with the Eastern Empire, especially since the Crusades; ambassadors, sent by the Emperors to seek the assistance of the Pope and of the Western rulers in the struggle against the Turks, were passing from court to court; the negotiations for a reunion of the Churches, which had been going on since the days of the first Council of Lyons, rendered a knowledge of Greek and of the writings of the Greek Fathers necessary for some of the leading ecclesiastics of the West; while, finally, the fall of Constantinople in 1453 forced many Greek scholars to seek a refuge in Italy or France, and provided the agents sent by the Popes and Italian rulers with a splendid opportunity of securing priceless treasures for the Western libraries.

Though Dante (1265-1321) is sometimes regarded as the earliest of the Humanist school[2] on account of his professed admiration for some of the Pagan masters and of the blending in his /Divina Comedia/ of the beauties of Roman literature with the teaching of the Fathers and Scholastics, still, the spirit that inspired him was the spirit of Christianity, and his outlook on life was frankly the outlook of the Middle Ages. To Petrarch (1304-74) rather belongs the honour of having been the most prominent, if not the very first writer, whose works were influenced largely by Humanist ideals. Born in Arezzo in 1304, he accompanied his father to Avignon when the latter was exiled from Florence. His friends wished him to study law; but, his poetic tendencies proving too strong for him, he abandoned his professional pursuits to devote his energies to literature. The patronage and help afforded him willingly by the Avignonese Popes[3] and other ecclesiastics provided him with the means of pursuing his favourite studies, and helped him considerably in his searches for manuscripts of the classics. Though only a cleric in minor orders, he was appointed Canon of Lombez (1335), papal ambassador to Naples (1343), prothonotary apostolic (1346), and archdeacon of Parma (1348). These positions secured to him a competent income, and, at the same time, brought him into touch with libraries and influential men.

The ruin of Italy and Rome, caused in great measure by the absence of the Popes during their residence at Avignon, roused all the patriotic instincts of Petrarch, and urged him to strive with all his might for the restoration of the ancient glory of his country. Hence in his politics he was strongly nationalist, and hence, too, he threw the whole weight of his influence on the side of Cola di Rienzi, when in 1347 the latter proclaimed from the Capitol the establishment of the Roman Republic. Nor did he hesitate to attack the Popes, to whom he was indebted so deeply, for their neglect of Rome and the Papal States, as well as for the evils which he thought had fallen upon Italy owing to the withdrawal of the Popes to Avignon. He himself strove to awaken in the minds of his countrymen memories of the past by forming collections of old Roman coins, by restoring or protecting wherever possible the Pagan monuments, and by searching after and copying manuscripts of the classical writers. In poetry, Virgil was his favourite guide. As a rule he wrote in Italian, but his writings were saturated with the spirit of the early Pagan authors; while in his pursuit of glory and his love for natural, sensible beauty, he manifested tendencies opposed directly to the self-restraint, symbolism, and purity of the Middle Ages. His longest poem is /Africa/, devoted to a rehearsal of the glories of ancient Rome and breathing a spirit of patriotism and zeal for a long lost culture, but it is rather for his love songs, the /canzoni/, that he is best remembered.

Petrarch, though a Humanist,[4] was no enemy of the Christian religion, nor did he imagine for a moment that the study of the Pagan classics could prove dangerous in the least degree to revealed religion. It is true that his private life did not always correspond to Christian principles of morality, and it is equally true that at times his patriotism led him to speak harshly of the rule of the Popes in Italy and Rome; but he never wavered in his religious convictions, and never recognised that Pagan literature and ideals should be judged by other than current Christian standards.

The example of Petrarch was not followed, however, by several of the later Humanists. His friend and disciple, Boccaccio (1313-75), imitated his master in his love for the classics and in his zeal for classical culture, and excelled him by acquiring, what Petrarch had failed utterly to acquire, a good knowledge of Greek. Like Petrarch, he was assisted largely by the Popes, and took service at the papal court. But his views of life and morality were coloured by Paganism rather than by Christianity. Many of his minor poems are steeped in indecency and immorality, and reflect only too clearly the tendency to treachery and deceit so characteristic of the Italian rulers of his day; while the /Decameron/, his greatest work, is more like the production of a Pagan writer than of one acquainted with Christian ethics and ideals. He delighted in lampooning the clergy, particularly the monks, charging them with ignorance, immorality, and hypocrisy. Such a line of conduct was not likely to recommend the apostles of the new learning to the admirers of Scholasticism, nor to create and foster a friendly alliance between the two camps. Yet, personally, Boccaccio was not an enemy of Christianity, and never aimed, as did some of the later Humanists, at reviving Paganism under the guise of promoting literature. He was unshaken in his acceptance of the Christian revelation, and, as the years advanced, he began to realise the evil of his ways and the dangerous character of his writings. Strange to say, it was to a body of the monks, whom he delighted in attacking, that he bequeathed the valuable library which he had brought together with such labour.

Had the Humanists contented themselves with advocating merely a return to classical studies, and had the Scholastics recognised that philosophy was not the only path to culture, it might have been possible to avoid a conflict. But, unfortunately for religion, there were extremists on both sides. On the one hand, some of the later Humanists, influenced largely by the low moral tone of the age, aimed at nothing less than the revival of Paganism, pure and simple; while, on the other, not a few of the Scholastics insisted strongly that Pagan literature, however perfect, should have no place in Christian education. Between these two conflicting parties stood a large body of educated men, both lay and cleric, who could see no irreconcilable opposition between Christianity and the study of the classics, and who aimed at establishing harmony by assigning to the classics the place in education willingly accorded to them by many of the Fathers of the Church.

But the influence of this latter body could not effect a reconciliation. A large section of the Humanists openly vindicated for themselves freedom from the intellectual and moral restraints imposed by Christianity. Laurentius Valla[5] (1405-57) in his work, /De Voluptate/, championed free indulgence in all kinds of sensual pleasures, attacked virginity as a crime against the human race, and ridiculed the idea of continence and self-denial, while in his own life he showed himself a faithful disciple of the Epicurianism that he propounded in his writings. His denunciations, too, of the Popes as the usurping tyrants of Rome in his work on the Constantine Donation were likely to do serious injury to the head of the Church in his spiritual as well as in his temporal capacity. But bad as were the compositions of Valla, they were harmless when compared with the books and pamphlets of Beccadelli, the Panormite, who devoted himself almost exclusively to what was indecent and repulsive. Poggio Bracciolini in his work, /Facetiae/, and Filelfo, though not equally bad, belong to the same category. In the hands of these men the Renaissance had become, to a great extent, a glorification of Pagan immorality. Their books were condemned by many of the religious orders, but without avail. They were read and enjoyed by thousands, in whom the wholesale corruption prevalent in Florence, Siena, and Venice, had deadened all sense of morality.

A large number of the later Renaissance school were Christians only in name. If the great body of them were judged by the heathen figures and phraseology with which their works abound, they could hardly be acquitted of Pagan tendencies; but in case of many of them these excesses are to be attributed to pedantry rather than to defection from the faith. In case of others, however, although they were wary in their expressions lest they might forfeit their positions, Christian teaching seems to have lost its hold upon their minds and hearts. Carlo Marsuppini, Chancellor of Florence, Gemistos Plethon, the well- known exponent of Platonic philosophy, Marsilio Ficino, Rinaldo degli Albizzi, and the members of the Roman Academy (1460), under the leadership of Pomponius Laetus, were openly Pagan in their lives and writings. Had the men in authority in Italy been less depraved such teaching and example would have been suppressed with firmness; or had the vast body of the people been less sound in their attachment to Christianity, Neo-Paganism would have arisen triumphant from the religious chaos.[6]

But not all of the Humanists belonged to the school of Valla, Beccadelli, Poggio, and Marsuppini. The Camaldolese monk, Ambrogio Traversari, his pupil Giannozzo Manetti (1431-59), a layman thoroughly devoted to the Church, and the first of the Humanists to turn his attention to the Oriental languages, Lionardo Bruni, so long Apostolic Secretary at the papal court and afterwards Chancellor of Florence, Maffeo Vegio (1407-58), the Roman archaeologist, who in his work on education endeavoured to combine classical culture with Christian revelation, Vittorino da Feltre, a model in his life and methods for Christian teachers, Pico della Mirandola, Sadoleto, and Bida, were all prominent in the classical revival, but at the same time thoroughly loyal to the Church. They were the moderate men between the Pagan Humanists and the extreme Scholastics. Their aim was to promote learning and education, and to widen the field of knowledge by the introduction of the ancient literary masterpieces, not at the expense of an abandonment of Christianity, but under the auspices and in support of the Catholic Church. Following in the footsteps of Origen, St. Gregory, St. Basil, and St. Augustine, they knew how to admire the beauties of Pagan literature without accepting its spirit or ideals, and hence they have been called the Christian Humanists.

The revival of Greek in Italy, where Greek literature was practically unknown, is due in great measure to the arrival of Greek scholars, who were induced to come by promises of a salary and position, or who travelled thither on political or ecclesiastical missions. Of these the principal were Manuel Chruysoloras engaged at work in Florence from 1396, Cardinal Bessarion (1403?-72) who came westward for the Council of Florence and ended his days in Venice to which he bequeathed his library, Gemistos Plethon (1355-1450) the principal agent in the establishment of the Platonic academy at Florence, George of Trebizond, Theodore Gaza, Lascaris, Andronicus Callistus, and others who fled from Greece to escape the domination of the Turks. With the help of these men and their pupils a knowledge of Greek and of Greek literature was diffused through Italy, and in a short time throughout the Continent. Everywhere collections of Greek manuscripts began to be formed; agents were sent to the East to buy them wherever they could be discovered, and copyists and translators were busy at work in all the leading centres of Italy. The fall of Constantinople in 1453 tended to help the Greek revival in the West by the dispersion of both scholars and manuscripts through Italy, France, and Germany.

Humanism owes its rapid development in Italy not indeed to the universities, for the universities, committed entirely to the Scholastic principles of education, were generally hostile, but rather to the exertions of wandering teachers and to the generous support of powerful patrons. In Rome it was the Popes who provided funds for the support of Humanist scholars, for the collection and copying of manuscripts, and for the erection of libraries where the great literary treasures of Greece and Rome might be available for the general public; in Florence it was the de' Medici, notably Cosmo (1429-64) and Lorenzo the Magnificent (1449-92), by whose exertions Florence became the greatest centre of literary activity in Europe; in Milan it was the Viscontis and the Sforzas; in Urbino Duke Federigo and his friends; and in Ferrara and Mantua the families of d'Este and Gonzaga. Academies took the place of universities. Of these the academy of Florence, supported by the de' Medici and patronised by the leading Greek and Italian scholars, was by far the most influential and most widely known. The academy of Rome, founded (1460) by Pomponius Laetus, was frankly Pagan in its tone and as such was suppressed by Paul II. It was revived, however, and patronised by Sixtus IV., Julius II., and Leo X. Similar institutions were to be found in most of the Italian States, notably at Venice and Naples. In nearly all these cities valuable manuscript libraries were being amassed, and were placed generously at the disposal of scholars.

Another important aid to the popularisation of the works of the Greek and Latin writers was the invention of printing and its introduction into Italy. The first printing press in Italy was established at the Benedictine monastery of Subiaco, whence it was transferred to Rome. From this press were issued editions of the Latin classics, such as the works of Lactantius, Caesar, Livy, Aulus Gellius, Virgil, Lucan, Cicero, and Ovid. Aldo Manuzio, himself an enthusiastic student of Greek literature, settled at Venice in 1490, and established a printing press with the intention of bringing out editions of the principal Greek authors. His house was the great centre for Greek scholars from all parts of Italy, and from the Aldine Press were issued cheap and accurate editions of the Greek classics. Later on when Florence and Milan were disturbed by the invasion of Charles VIII. of France (1483-98), and when Naples was captured by the Spaniards the Humanist movement found a generous patron in Leo X., a scion of de' Medici family. From the press founded by Leo X. many classical texts were issued till the pillaging of the city by the imperial troops in 1527 dealt a death blow to the revival in Italy.

That there was no opposition between the study of the classics and the teaching of Christianity is evidenced by the friendly attitude adopted by the Papacy towards the Humanist movement. The Avignon Popes, Benedict XII. (1334-42) and Clement VI. (1342-52), heaped honours and emoluments upon Petrarch and provided him with the means of acquiring manuscripts and of meeting scholars likely to assist him. A similar attitude towards the movement was adopted by Urban V. (1362-70). The leading classical scholars such as Coluccio, Salutati, Francesco Bruni, Lionardo d'Aretino, etc., were employed at the Papal court, and the apostolic college of secretaries became one of the greatest centres for the propagation of Humanism. The troubles that fell upon the Church during the Great Western Schism diverted the attention of the rival Popes from literary pursuits; but as soon as peace had been restored by the Council of Constance Martin V. (1417-31) assembled around him in Rome many of the ablest classical scholars, and vied with his cardinals in his protection of the Humanist movement. Eugene IV. (1431-47) was, if anything, more favourable, but yet his sympathies did not blind him to the dangerous tendencies of the revival as manifested in the books of men like Beccadelli.[7]

With the election of Nicholas V. (1447-55)[8] the triumph of Humanism at Rome seemed secure. The new Pope was himself one of the party. As a tutor in Florence he had been brought into contact with the great literary men of the time and had become an ardent student of the classics, nor did his enthusiasm lose any of its ardour when he ascended the Papal throne. His aim was to make Rome the intellectual as well as the religious capital of the world, and with this object in view he invited to his court the most distinguished scholars of the age, and bestowed upon not a few of them, such as Albergati, Capranica, and Caesarini the rank of cardinal. That he fully recognised the advantages which religion might derive from the revival of letters, and that he aimed at employing the services of the Humanists in defence of Christianity is evident from the works to which he directed the attention of scholars. The texts of the Scripture, the translations of the Greek Fathers, and the preparation of critical studies on the Lives of the Saints were amongst the works recommended to his literary friends. At the same time he did not proclaim war upon the less orthodox of the Humanist school. Men like Valla, Poggio, Filelfo, and Marsuppini were treated with friendliness and even with favour. Whether such a line of conduct was dictated by prudence and by the hope of winning over these scholars to a better understanding, or whether his anxiety for the success of his own literary schemes blinded him to the serious excesses of such leaders it is difficult to say; but, at any rate, it serves to show the great liberty enjoyed by literary men at this period even in the very city of the Popes.

As a means of ensuring to Rome the most prominent place in the revival, agents were dispatched to Greece, Turkey, Germany, France, and even to Sweden and Norway, to hunt for manuscripts. No expense was spared to secure everything that could be purchased or to have copies made where purchase was impossible. In order to preserve these treasures and make them available for scholars the Vatican Library was undertaken by orders of the Pope. Though long before this time the library of the Popes was of considerable importance, yet on account of the immense number of volumes produced by Nicholas V. he is generally regarded as the founder of the Vatican Library. The number of volumes which it contained at the time of his death is variously estimated at from one to nine thousand. The works of the Fathers of the Church, and the Scholastics and Canonists were well represented.[9]

After the death of Nicholas V. the Pagan side of the Humanist movement became more and more apparent. Pius II. (1458-64), who, as Aeneas Sylvius, was well known as a clever writer of the Humanist school, seems as Pope to have been decidedly suspicious of his former friends. His own private library was filled with Christian authors, and care was taken to show favour only to those classical scholars whose writings were above reproach. Yet the cares of his office and the promotion of the crusade on which he had set his heart prevented him from taking the necessary steps for the purification of his court, and, as a result, many of the members of the College of Abbreviators were allowed to remain in office though they were really Pagan at heart. Paul II. could not tolerate such a state of affairs. He promptly abolished the College of Abbreviators, suppressed the Roman Academy, and arrested its two prominent leaders, Pomponius Laetus and Platina.

If Paul II. erred on the side of severity some of his successors went to the other extreme of laxity. The period of the political Popes, from Sixtus IV. to Julius II. (1471-1513), was marked by a serious decline in the religious spirit, nor can it be said that the policy of the Popes was calculated to check the downward tendency. Their attention was occupied too much by the politics of the petty Italian States to permit them to fulfil the duties of their high office; and, as a consequence, the interests of religion were neglected. Sixtus IV. adopted the friendly attitude of Nicholas V. towards the Renaissance. The College of Abbreviators was restored, the Roman Academy was recognised, and Platina was appointed librarian. The manuscripts in the Vatican Library were increased, more ample accommodation was provided, and every facility was given to scholars to consult the papal collection. Hence it is that Sixtus IV. is regarded generally as the second founder of the Vatican Library.

The revolutions and wars, caused by the invasion of Italy by the French and the Spaniards during the closing years of the fifteenth century and the early portion of the sixteenth, dealt a serious blow to Humanism in Florence, Milan, Venice, and other Italian centres. But the misfortunes of those cities served to strengthen the movement at Rome. Julius II. (1503-13) proved himself a generous patron of literature and in a special manner of art. Men like Giuliano da Sangello, Sansovino, Bramante, Michael Angelo, and Raphael were invited to Rome and induced to devote their genius to the service of religion and the glory of the Papacy. On the death of Julius II. in 1513 the complete triumph of the Humanist movement in Rome was assured by the election of Giovanni de' Medici who took the name of Leo X. (1513-21).[10] As the son of Lorenzo the Magnificent, to whom Florence owes its literary renown, and as the pupil of the celebrated Humanists, Poliziano and Marsilio Ficino, he was committed almost of necessity to the Humanist movement. Scholars and artists flocked to Rome from all sides to greet the new Pope and to assure themselves of his favour and protection. Under the new regime literary merit was the principal qualification sought for in candidates aspiring to the highest ecclesiastical honours. The Roman University was reorganised; the search for manuscripts was renewed with vigour; a new college for the promotion of Greek studies in Rome was founded, and the services of Lascaris and Musuro were secured; and artists like Raphael and Bramante received every encouragement. Humanism was at last triumphant in Rome, but, unfortunately, its triumph was secured at the expense of religion. Nor was Humanism destined to enjoy the fruits of the victory for a lengthened period. The outbreak of the Reformation and the capture of Rome by the soldiers of Charles V. turned the attention of the Popes to more pressing concerns.

The Renaissance movement in Germany is due largely to the influence of Italian scholars and to the teaching of the Brothers of the Common Life in their school at Deventer.[11] The close political relations existing between the German States and the cities of Northern Italy, the mission of Petrarch to the court of Charles IV., the intermingling of German and Italian scholars at the councils of Constance, Florence, and Basle, and the exertions of Aeneas Sylvius, afterwards Pius II., during his term of office as Chancellor of Frederick III., helped largely to promote the study of the classics in Germany, especially when the invention and development of the art of printing had solved the difficulty of procuring manuscripts. As in Italy, Humanism owes much of its success to the generosity of powerful patrons such as the Emperor Maximilian I., Frederick Elector of Saxony and his kinsman, Duke George, Joachim I. of Brandenburg, and Philip of the Palatinate, Bishop John von Dalberg of Worms, and Archbishop Albrecht of Mainz; and as in Italy the academies were the most powerful means of disseminating classical culture, so also in Germany learned societies like the /Rhenana/, founded by Bishop Dalberg, and the /Danubiana/ in Vienna, were most successful in promoting the literary propaganda.

But, unlike the Italian, the German revival was assisted largely by the universities. Basle, Erfurt, Heidelburg, and Leipzig showed unmistakably their sympathy towards the movement, and in a short time the programmes of university studies in nearly all the leading centres were modified in accordance with the new ideas of education. Scholasticism was obliged to make way for the classics and natural science. Cologne, alone in Germany, refused to abandon its old system, and, though not unfriendly to the classics, as is evident by the presence of Ortwin Gratius on its list of professors, still it showed itself highly distrustful of the tendencies of some of the Humanist leaders. Yet German Humanism had little, if anything, in common with the flagrant irreligion and immorality of the Italian school. With one or two exceptions German Humanists never assailed revealed religion as such, but attacked instead the prevailing educational system, which they held to be responsible for the widespread ignorance and general decline of the religious spirit. Many of the leading German scholars were exemplary in their moral character and in their loyalty to the Church, and few, even of those who were regarded as hostile, showed any sympathy with Luther once they understood that he aimed at revolt rather than reform.

Some of the greatest of the German Humanists differed from their Italian contemporaries also in the fact that they turned the intellectual revival into scientific channels, and made the study of the classics subservient to mathematical and astronomical research. Cardinal Nicholas of Cusa (1400-64), George Peurbach of Vienna (d. 1461), John Muller of Konigsberg (1436-76), better known by his Latin name Regiomontanus, and the great churchman and astronomer Copernicus (1473-1543) belonged to this section, which prepared the way for modern scientific developments. With these men religion and science went hand in hand.

On the purely literary side the most famous of the German Humanists were Conrad Celtes (1459-1508) the most active of the promoters of the classical revival beyond the Alps and one of the earliest of the German poets; Pirkeimer (1470-1528), who hoped for great things from the Lutheran movement at first, but having realised its real nature remained loyal to the Church; Mutianus Rufus (1471-1526), a canon of Gotha and at the same time a well-known free-thinker; Grotus Rubeanus (1480-1504), who at first favoured Luther; Jakob Wimpheling (1450- 1528), and Johannes Trithemius (1462-1516), the learned historian and abbot of Sponheim; Ulrich von Hutten (1488-1523), and Johann Reuchlin (1455-1522).

Of these the most important from the point of view of ecclesiastical history are von Hutten[12] and Reuchlin. The former was born in the year 1488 and was sent for his education to the monastery of Fulda, from which he fled with very little mental equipment except a lasting hatred and distrust for all monks and ecclesiastics. As a wandering student he visited the leading centres of learning in Germany and Northern Italy, where he was particularly remarkable for his dissolute life, his ungovernable temper, and his biting sarcasm. Taking advantage of the rising spirit of unfriendliness between the Teuton and the Latin countries, he posed as a patriot burning with love for Germany and the Germans, and despising the French, the Italians, and in particular the Pope. Against the monks and theologians he directed his bitterest satires, to the delight of many, who did not foresee the dangers of such attacks at a time when the German nation generally was growing less friendly to the Papacy.

A dispute, which broke out about the destruction or suppression of Jewish books, afforded him a splendid opportunity of venting his spleen against the Church. A converted Jew of Cologne named Pfefferkorn advocated the suppression of all Jewish religious books except the Old Testament, as the best means of converting his former co-religionists. The Emperor, Maximilian, was not unwilling to listen to such advice supported as it was by the universities of Cologne, Mainz, and Erfut. Reuchlin, a professor of Heidelberg and himself a well-known Hebrew scholar, opposed such a policy as bad in itself and as injurious to the proper understanding of the Old Testament. A warm controversy thereupon ensued. The Dominicans of Cologne espoused the cause of Pfefferkorn, while the Humanists, scenting in the attack upon Jewish literature an onslaught directed against the entire literary revival, supported the contentions of Reuchlin. It was a war between two opposing schools—the Theologians and the Humanists; and, unfortunately for the Theologians, they had selected their ground badly, and were but poorly equipped for a battle in which victory was to be decided by popular opinion.

Reuchlin was summoned to appear before the Inquisitor to answer for the views put forward in his /Augenspeigel/ (1511), and was condemned. He appealed to Rome, and the Bishop of Speier was ordered to investigate the case. The result was the acquittal of Reuchlin (1514), but his adversaries, having objected to the mode of trial, the case was transferred once more to the Roman courts. Meanwhile the controversy was carried on in Germany with great bitterness. Reuchlin published a volume of sympathetic letters[13] received by him from the leading scholars of Germany, and Erasmus issued a new edition (1515) of his /Praise of Folly (Encomium Moriae)/ in which he ridiculed especially the monks and theologians.

But the book which was most damaging to the opponents of Humanism was beyond doubt the /Epistolae virorum obscurorum/. It was a work consisting of two volumes, the first brought out by Grotus Rubeanus in 1514, and the second mostly from the pen of Urich von Hutten (1517). Like Reuchlin's work it purported to be a collection of letters addressed by the theologians to Ortwin Gratius, the champion of Cologne university and, indeed, of the whole Scholastic party. It was full of bitterness and vulgarity, but, as a humorous caricature of the theologians, their arguments and modes of expression, it was calculated to make them ridiculous especially in the eyes of the university students. Against an attack of this kind serious arguments were unavailing, and, unfortunately, there was no apologist of theology capable of producing a reply couched in a strain similar to that of the /Epistolae/. Gratius himself did undertake the task in his /Lamentationes obscurorum virorum/, but without success, and undoubtedly in the eyes of the general public the victory rested with the Humanists. The whole controversy was extremely unfortunate, because it helped to blind many to the real issues at stake when the Lutheran movement began. By it the Theologians and Humanists were divided into two hostile camps, with the result that the latter were inclined to support Luther against their own former opponents and in vindication of the liberal policy which they had advocated; while the Theologian, having been discredited as narrow-minded obscurantists in the eyes of a large body of university men, were handicapped seriously in a struggle with Luther even though their struggle was for fundamental religious principles.[14]

The most remarkable of the men, who, though not Germans, were closely identified with German Humanists, was Desiderius Erasmus (1466- 1535).[15] He was born at Rotterdam, was sent to school with the Brothers of the Common Life at Deventer, entered a monastery of the Canons Regular attracted by its library rather than by its rule, and left it after two years to become secretary to the Bishop of Cambrai. He studied classics at the University of Paris, and after his ordination as priest by the Bishop of Utrecht he became a tutor to an English nobleman. Later on he paid a visit to England, where he received a warm welcome from scholars like Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, Colet, Dean of St. Paul's, and Sir Thomas More, and where he was honoured by an appointment as Professor of Greek in Oxford. But the fever of travel was upon him. He returned to Paris, made a brief stay at Louvain, and started out to visit the leading literary centres of Italy, notably Bologna, Venice, and Rome, in the latter of which he was well received by Julius II.

On the accession of Henry VIII. he returned to England and lectured for some time at Cambridge. Later on he removed to Basle and settled down to the work of preparing editions of the New Testament and of the Fathers. The triumph of the Reformation party in Basle drove him for a time to seek a refuge in Freiburg, but he returned to die at Basle in 1536.

In his wanderings Erasmus was brought into contact with the leading scholars of France, England, Germany, and Italy, and was thoroughly acquainted with the lights and shadows of the Renaissance movement. In his knowledge of Greek he was surpassed by few of his contemporaries, and in the purity and ease of his Latin style he stood without a serious rival. Like many others of the Humanist school he delighted in attacking the ignorance of the monks and Scholastics, and in denouncing the abuses of the age, though, as was the case with most of the literary reformers of the time, his own life as an ecclesiastic was far from exemplary.

Yet Erasmus himself was never an enemy of Christianity, nor did he desire the overthrow of ecclesiastical authority. He did, indeed, advocate reform, and in his advocacy of reform he may have been carried too far at times, but in his heart Erasmus had little sympathy with doctrinal changes. Ignorance he believed to be at the root of the decline of religion, and hence he would have welcomed a complete change in the educational system of the Church. Instead of Scholasticism he advocated study of the Scriptures and of the early Fathers, and in order to prepare the way for such a policy he devoted himself at Basle to the task of preparing an edition of the New Testament and of the Greek Fathers. He was on terms of the closest intimacy with the leading Humanists of Germany, and shared all their contempt for scholastic theologians and much of their distrust of the Pope and the Roman Curia. Hence the sympathy and encouragement of Erasmus were not wanting to Luther during the early days of his revolt and before the true object of the movement was rightly understood; but once Erasmus realised that union with Luther meant separation from the Church he became more reserved in his approval, and finally took the field against him. In his work, /De Libero Arbitrio/, he opposed the teaching of Luther on free will, and before his death he received a benefice from Paul III. which he accepted, and an offer of a cardinal's hat which he declined. His life as an ecclesiastic was certainly not edifying, and his hatred of ignorance, antiquated educational methods, and abuses may have led him into excesses, but his theology was still the theology of the Middle Ages rather than that of the German Reformers.

In France the earliest of the Humanists were Nicholas of Clemanges and Gerson, both rectors of Paris University, and both well-known theologians. They were specially active in putting an end to the Great Western Schism, but in doing so they laid down certain principles that led almost inevitably to Gallicanism. The influence of these two men did not, however, change the policy of Paris University. For years France lagged behind in the classical movement, and it was only in the early portion of the sixteenth century that French Humanism made itself felt.

The movement gained ground by the exertions of individuals and of literary societies, by the results of the activity of the printing press, and the protection of influential patrons at the Court of Francis I. (1515-47). Paris University became more friendly to the classics, and eminent scholars like Lascaris and Aleandro were invited to lecture on Greek. The College of St. Barbe became a great classical stronghold within the university, and the movement began to develop so rapidly as to excite the jealousy and suspicions of the theologians. This unfortunate division was rendered more acute by the foundation of the College de France in 1529. It was handed over entirely to the Humanistic party in spite of the opposition of the more conservative school, and served as a centre for all kinds of literary, philological, and antiquarian researches.

The most eminent of the French Humanists were Budaeus (1467-1540), regarded in his own time as but slightly inferior to Erasmus, Germanus Brixius (Germain de Brie), Canon of Notre Dame and translator of portion of the works of St. John Chrysostom, Stephen Poncher, Bishop of Paris and advocate of the Humanist party at the Court of Francis I., the Dominican, William Petit, Robert (1503-59) and Henri (1528-98) Estienne (Stephanus) to whom we are indebted for the two monumental works, /Thesaurus Linguae Latinae/ and /Linguae Graecae/, Scaliger (1540-1609) the well-known authority on chronology and epigraphy, and the philologist and classicist Isaac Casaubon (1559-1614).

In France there was a sharp rivalry from the beginning between the Scholastics and the Humanists. The university was divided into separate camps. The college of St. Barbe was opposed by the Montaigue College, the rector of which was the leader of the Scholastic party. The Humanists regarded the Theologians as antiquated, while the Theologians looked upon their opponents as supporters of the Reformation movement. In case of a few of these, as for example Lefevre d'Etaples,[16] Gerard Roussel, and others, these suspicions were fully justified; but in case of many others their faith was sound, and however much they may have wavered in life they preferred to die at peace with the Church. To this latter section belongs Marguerite of Valois,[17] sister of Francis I. She was a patroness of the Humanists and Reformers in Paris and was opposed undoubtedly to many Catholic practices; but it is not so clear that she wished for a religious revolution, and at any rate it is certain that she died a Catholic. This rivalry between the Theologians and Humanists and the misunderstandings to which it gave rise are largely responsible for the rapid development of Calvinism amongst certain classes of French society.

The classical movement in England is due largely to Italian influences, though the visit of the Greek Emperor Manuel in 1400, and the subsequent visits of Greek envoys and scholars must have contributed not a little to awaken an interest among English students in Greek studies. Individual Englishmen began to turn towards the great centres of Italian Humanism, and to return to their own country imbued with something of the literary zeal of their Italian masters. Of these the two who, more than others, contributed to give Greek and Latin a good standing in the schools of the country were William Selling and William Hadley, both Benedictine monks of Canterbury. They studied at Bologna, Padua and Rome, and were brought into contact with Politian and other distinguished Humanists. Selling was recognised as an accomplished Greek scholar, and on his return he set himself to remodel the course of studies at Canterbury so as to ensure for the classics their proper place. The influence of Canterbury and of Prior Selling helped very much to spread the classical revival in England.

Selling's most remarkable pupil was Thomas Linacre (1460-1524), who went to Oxford after having completed his early education at Canterbury, and was chosen Fellow of All Soul's College. Later on he accompanied his old master to Italy, where he had an opportunity of mastering the intricacies of Latin style from Politian, the tutor of the children of Lorenzo de' Medici, and of Greek from Demetrius Chalcondylas. He turned his attention to medicine and received a degree both at Padua and Oxford. His position at the courts of Henry VII. and Henry VIII. gave him an opportunity of enlisting the sympathies of the leading ecclesiastical and lay scholars of his day in favour of the literary revival. In his later years he was ordained priest and held some important ecclesiastical offices. Other distinguished scholars and patrons of the revival in England were Grocyn, a companion of Linacre at Oxford and in Italy and afterwards lecturer on Greek at Exeter College, Oxford; John Colet (1467-1519), Dean of St. Paul's, the friend of Budaeus, Erasmus, Linacre, and Grocyn, and founder of St. Paul's School; William Lilly, appointed by Dean Colet as first master in this school; Fisher (1459-1535) Bishop of Rochester; and Sir Thomas More (1480-1535).

The Humanist movement in England, unlike the corresponding movement in Italy, was in no sense hostile to religion or to the Catholic Church. Many of its leaders desired reform, but not a single one of the prominent scholars of the period showed any sympathy with Luther's revolt. The very founders of the revival in England, Selling, Hadley, Linacre and Grocyn, were ecclesiastics whose faith was beyond suspicion; Colet died as he had lived, thoroughly devoted to the Church; while Fisher and Sir Thomas More sealed their loyalty to the ancient faith with their blood.[18]

The revival in Spain owes much to the patronage of Queen Isabella and the exertions of Cardinal Ximenez (1436-1517). The leading universities, Seville, Alcala, and Salamanca, were not unfriendly, and the whole educational system was remodelled in favour of the classics. Cardinal Ximenez devoted himself to the preparation of the Polyglot edition of the Bible, the New Testament portion of which was printed so early as 1514, and the whole work was published in 1522. The leading Humanist scholars were Lebrixa, or as he is called in Latin Lebrissensis, Nunez, and Ludovico Vives (1492-1540), the latter of whom was deemed by his contemporaries not unworthy of being compared with Erasmus and Budaeus.

The Humanist movement and the general revival of literary, scientific, philological and historical studies to which it gave birth were not in themselves anti-religious, nor did they find in the Catholic Church a determined opponent. Such studies, on the contrary, might have contributed much to promote a more enlightened understanding of theology, and more especially of the Scriptures, a fact which was understood thoroughly by the ablest ecclesiastics of the time. In Italy, Germany, France, and England, bishops and abbots vied with secular princes in their patronage of scholars, while the influence of the Popes, notably Nicholas V., Sixtus IV., Julius II., and Leo X. was entirely in favour of the Humanist party.

Yet, while all this is true, the Humanist movement did much, undoubtedly, to prepare men's minds for the great religious revolt of the sixteenth century. Springing into life as it did at a time when the faith of the Middle Ages was on the wane, and when many educated men were growing tired of the cold formalism and antiquated methods of the Schoolmen, it tended to develop a spirit of restless inquiry that could ill brook any restriction. The return to the classics recalled memories of an earlier civilisation and culture opposed in many particulars to the genius of Christianity, and the return of nature tended to push into the background the supernatural idea upon which the Christian religion is based. But the revival did more. The study of the classics brought into prominence serious problems regarding the authenticity, age, and value of certain writings and manuscripts, and by so doing it created a spirit of criticism and of doubt for which the Theologians of the day were but poorly prepared. In a word, it was a period of transition and of intellectual unrest, when new ideals in education were endeavouring to supplant the old ones, and when neither the friends of the old nor of the new had distinguished clearly between what was essential in Christianity and what was purely accidental.

In such a time it was to be expected that ardent Humanists, filled with their new-born zeal for classical studies, should advance too rapidly, and by confounding religion with the crude methods of some of its defenders should jump to the conclusion that a reconciliation between the revival and religion was impossible. Nor should it be a matter of surprise that the Theologians, confident in the strength of their own position and naturally suspicious of intellectual novelties, were not inclined to look with favour on a movement which owed its inspiration largely to Pagan sources. Moderate men, on the contrary, whether Humanists or Scholastics, aimed at a complete reconciliation. They realised that the great literary and scientific revival could do much for the defence of religion, and that the Pagan classics must be appraised according to Christian standards.

But this work of reconciliation was rendered very difficult by the attitude of extremists on both sides. Many of the Italian Humanists, as has been shown, were Christians only in name. In their writings and in their lives they showed clearly that they were thoroughly imbued with the spirit of Paganism. Such men merited severe condemnation, and it is to be regretted that the Popes, particularly Sixtus IV. and Leo X., did not adopt a firmer attitude towards this section of the Italian school. But before judging too harshly the friendly relations maintained by Sixtus IV. and Leo X. with the Italian Humanists, it is well to remember that the age in which they lived was noted for its general laxity and for the decline of a proper religious spirit, that the Pagan tone and Pagan forms of expression used by these writers were regarded as exhibitions of harmless pedantry rather than as clear proofs of opposition to Christianity, that most of these writers were always ready to explain away whatever might appear objectionable in their works, and that, finally, mildness in the circumstances may have been deemed the best policy. The attitude of the Popes at any rate prevented an open conflict between the representatives of the two schools in Italy until the outbreak of the Reformation and the invasion of Rome put an end to the danger by destroying the Humanist movement.

In Germany and France there were few traces of an anti-Christian tendency amongst the supporters of the new learning. But in both countries, more especially in the former, the supporters of the new learning criticised severely the ignorance of the monks and Theologians, and took little pains to conceal their contempt for the Scholastic methods of education. They blamed the Popes for their neglect of the true interests of the Church, and held them responsible in a large measure for the general decline of religion. According to them the study of theology must be reformed so as to give a more prominent place to the Scriptures and the writings of the early Fathers; the development of the internal spirit of religion as distinct from mere external formalism was to be encouraged, and many of the existing practices might be discarded as superstitious. Such views tended naturally to excite the opposition of the Theologians and to unsettle the religious convictions of educated men who watched the struggle with indifference.

In this way the ground was prepared for a complete religious revolt. Luther's movement was regarded by many as merely the logical sequence of Humanism, but that the Humanists themselves were not willing to accept this view is clear from the fact that once the early misunderstandings had been removed, and once the real issues were apparent, most of the Humanists in Germany and France remained true to the Church. Instead of regarding Luther as a friend they looked upon him as the worst enemy of their cause, and on the Reformation as the death-knell of the Renaissance. —————

[1] Sandys, /History of Classical Scholarship/, 2nd edition, 1906. Rogers, /L'Enseignement des lettres classiques d'Ausone a Alcuin/, 1905. Gougaud, /Les Chretientes Celtiques/, 1911, chap. viii. (An excellent bibliography.) Esposito, /Greek in Ireland during the Middle Ages/ (/Studies/, i., 4, 665-683).

[2] Monnier, /La Renaissance de Dante a Luther/, 1884.

[3] Guirard, /L'Eglise et la Renaissance/, chap. iii.

[4] Nolhac, /Petrarque et l'Humanisme/, 1892.

[5] Mancini, /Vita di Lorenzo Valla/, 1891.

[6] Pastor, /History of the Popes/, i., pp. 12-33.

[7] Pastor, op. cit., p. 24.

[8] Muntz, /Les arts a la cour des Popes pendant le XVe. et le XVIe. siecle/, 1878-9.

[9] Muntz-Fabre, /La Bibliotheque du Vatican au XVe. siecle/, 1887.

[10] Pastor, op. cit., vol. vii. Conforti, /Leone X. ed il suo secolo/, 1896. Roscoe, /Life and Pontificate of Leo X./, 1883.

[11] Delprat, /Die Bruderschaft des gemeinsamen Lebens/, 1840.

[12] Strauss, /Ulrich von Hutten/, 2 auf., 1871 (Eng. Trans., 1874).

[13] /Clarorum virorum Epistolae latinae graecae et hebraicae/, 1514.

[14] Janssen, /History of the German People/, iii., pp. 44-79.

[15] Capey, /Erasmus/, 1901.

[16] /Lefevre d'Etaples son influence sur les origines de la reforme Franc./, 1900.

[17] Lalanne, /Memoires de Me. de Valois/, etc., 1858.

[18] On the Humanist movement in England, cf. Gasquet, /Eve of the
Reformation/, 1900, chap. ii. Seebohm, /Oxford Reformers/ (Colet,
Erasmus, More), 1867. Einstein, /The Italian Renaissance in
England/, 1902.

(b) Political and Social Condition of Europe.

See the works of Pastor, Janssen and Gasquet cited in section (a).
/The Cambridge Modern History/, vol. i (gives an excellent
bibliography). Hergenrother-Kirsch, /Handbuch der Allgemeinen
Kirchengeschichte/, Bd. 2 (pp. 996-1002). Ranke, /Deutsche
Geschichte im Zeitalter der Reformation/, 1844 (Eng. Trans. by
Austin, 1845-7). Idem., /Geschichte der Romanischen und
Germanischen Volker/ (1419-1514). Kaser, /Deutsche Geschichte zur
Zeit Maximilians I./ (1486-1519), 1912. Cherrier, /Histoire de
Charles VIII./, 1868. Prescott, /Ferdinand and Isabella/, 1887.
Busch-Todd, /England under the Tudors/, 1892-5. Hunt-Poole, /The
Political History of England/, vol. v., 1910 (chap. v.).

The struggle between the Papacy and the Empire, ending, as it did, in the downfall of the House of Hohenstaufen, put an end to the old conception of the universal monarchy presided over by the Emperor and the Pope. A new tendency began to make itself felt in European politics. Hitherto the feudal system, on which society was based, had served as a barrier against the development of royal power or the formation of united states. Under this system the king was sometimes less powerful than some of his nominal subjects, and was entirely dependent upon the good-will of the barons for the success of any action he might take outside his own hereditary dominions. This was the real weakness of the system, and so long as it remained the growth of Nationalism was impossible.

Gradually, however, by the exertions of powerful sovereigns the power of the barons was broken, the smaller states were swallowed up in the larger ones, and the way was prepared for the rise of the nations of Modern Europe. In France the policy of centralisation begun in the thirteenth century, was carried to a successful conclusion in the days of Louis XI. (1461-83). The English provinces, Aquitane, Burgundy, and Brittany, were all united to form one state, knowing only one supreme ruler. In Spain the old divisions disappeared almost completely with the union of Castile and Aragon under Ferdinand (1479-1516) and Isabella the Catholic (1474-1504), and with the complete destruction of the Moorish power by the conquest of Granada (1492). In England the slaughter of the nobility in the Wars of the Roses left the way ready for the establishment of the Tudor dominion. As part of the same movement towards unification Henry VIII. was declared to be King of Ireland instead of Feudal Lord, and serious attempts were made to include Scotland within his dominions. Inside the Empire similar tendencies were at work, but with exactly opposite results. The interregnum in the Empire and a succession of weak rulers left the territorial princes free to imitate the rulers of Europe by strengthening their own power at the expense of the lower nobility, the cities, and the peasantry; but, having secured themselves, they used their increased strength to arrest the progress of centralisation and to prevent the development of a strong imperial power.

As a direct result of this centralisation tendency and of the increase in royal authority that it involved, the rulers of Europe initiated a campaign against all constitutional restrictions on the exercise of their authority. The feudal system with all its faults was in some senses wonderfully democratic. The sovereign was dependent upon the decisions of the various representative assemblies; and though the lower classes had little voice except in purely local affairs, yet the rights and privileges of all classes were hedged round so securely by written charters or immemorial usage that any infringement of them might be attended with serious results. In England the Parliament, in Spain the Cortes, in France the States General, and in Germany the Diet, should have proved a strong barrier against absolute rule. But the authority of such assemblies was soon weakened or destroyed. Under the Tudors the English Parliament became a mere machine for registering the wishes of the sovereign; the Cortes and States General were rarely consulted in Spain and France; and, though the Diet retained its position in the Empire, it was used rather to increase the influence of the princes than to afford any guarantee of liberty to the subject.

In bringing about such a complete revolution the rulers were assisted largely by the introduction of the Roman Code of Justinian.[1] According to the principles of the Roman Code the power of the sovereign was unlimited, and against his wishes no traditional customs or privileges could prevail. Such a system was detested especially by the Germans, who clung with great pertinacity to their own national laws and customs; but the princes, supported by the universities, carried through the reform on which they had set their heart. They succeeded in strengthening their own power and in trampling down the rights guaranteed to their subjects by the old Germanic Code, while at the same time they were untiring in their resistance to imperial reforms, and were unwilling to do anything to increase the power of the Emperor.

As a result of the development of arbitrary rule the lower classes had great reason to complain of the increase of taxation and of the difficulties of obtaining justice in the ordinary courts of law. They were ready to listen to the advice of interested leaders, who urged them to band together in defence of their rights against the usurpation of land owners and kings. As a result nearly every country in Europe found itself involved in a great struggle. The Peasants' War in Hungary (1514), the revolt against Charles V. in Spain (1520), the resistance of the Flemish Communes, led by Ghent, to the ordinances of the Dukes of Burgundy, the discontent of the lower classes in France with the excessive taxes levied by Louis XI., and the secret associations which prepared the way for the great uprising of the lower classes in Germany (1524), were clear indications that oppression and discontent were not confined to any particular country in Europe.

With all these political developments the interests of religion and of the Church were closely connected. Even though it be admitted that in themselves there is no real opposition between Nationalism and Catholicism, yet in the circumstances of the time, when national rivalry was acute, the dependence of the Holy See upon any particular nation was certain to excite serious jealousy. From that time nations began to regard the Pope as an ally or an enemy according to the side he favoured instead of looking to him as a common father, and consequently the danger of a conflict between national patriotism and loyalty to the Head of the Church was rendered less improbable. This feeling was increased by the residence of the Popes at Avignon, when the Holy See was so completely associated with the interests of France, and by the policy pursued by Sixtus IV. and his successors in regard to the Italian States. Nowhere, however, was this opposition to the Papacy manifested more clearly than in Germany. This was due partly to the growing feeling of antipathy between the Teutonic and the Latin races, partly to the tradition of the great struggle of the thirteenth century in which the Emperors were worsted by the Popes, and partly also to the discontent excited amongst all classes of the German people, lay and cleric, by the taxations of the Curia. The attitude of the three ecclesiastical electors in 1455, the complaints of the clergy in 1479, and the list of /Gravamina/ presented to Maximilian in 1510 were harbingers of the revolution that was to come.

Besides, the growth of absolutism in Europe was likely to prove dangerous to the liberties of the Church. Rulers, who aimed at securing for themselves unlimited authority, were not blind to the importance of being able to control the ecclesiastical organisation, and to attain this result their legal advisers quoted for them the maxims of the old Roman Code, according to which the king was the source of all spiritual as well as temporal power. Their predecessors had usurped already a strong voice in the appointments to benefices, but now civil rulers claimed as a right what those who had gone before were glad to accept as a privilege. Hence they demanded that the Holy See should hand over to them the nomination of bishops, that it should modify the old laws regarding exemption of ecclesiastical property from taxation, trial of clerics, and right of sanctuary, and that it should submit its pronouncements for the royal /Exequator/ before they could have the force of law in any particular state. The Pragmatic Sanction of Bourges (1438) and the Concordat wrung from Leo X. by Francis I. of France in 1516, the Concordat of Princes in 1447, and the new demands formulated by the Diet of the Empire, the Statutes of /Provisors/ and /Praemunire/ in England (1453), and the concessions insisted upon by Ferdinand and Isabella in Spain (1482), were clear proofs that absolutism was destined to prove fatal to the liberty of the Church and the authority of the Holy See.

Finally, the universal discontent of the masses, and the great social revolutions of the first quarter of the sixteenth century were likely to prove dangerous to ecclesiastical authority. In all revolutions the most extreme men are certain to assume control at least in the earlier stages of the movement, and their wildest onslaughts on Church and State are sure to receive the applause of the crowd. But there was special danger that these popular outbreaks might be turned into anti- religious channels at a time when so many of the bishops were secular princes, and when the Church appeared to be so closely identified with the very interests against which the peasants took up arms. In these circumstances it was not difficult for designing men to push forward their plans of a religious reform under guise of a campaign for liberty and equality.[2] —————

[1] /Cambridge Modern History/, ii., p. 176. Janssen, op. cit., Eng.
Trans., ii., chap. ii.

[2] Janssen, op. cit. Eng. Trans., vols. i.-iii. Pastor, op. cit.,
Eng. Trans., vols. i.-iii.

(c) The Religious Condition of Europe.

Pastor, op. cit. Janssen, op. cit. Creighton, /History of the Papacy from the Great Western Schism to the Sack of Rome/, 2nd edition, 1897. Ranke, /Die Romische Papste im 16 und 17 jahrhunderten/ (xxxvii-xxxix), 1900 (Eng. Trans., 3 vols., 1866). Haller, /Papsttum und Kirchenreform/, 1904. Mansi, /Sacrorum Conciliorum Collectio/, 1900. Hefele, /Conciliengeschichte/ 2 auf. 1873-90 (Eng. Trans. in part, French Trans.). Imbart de la Tour, /Les origines de la Reforme/, ii., 1909. Thomas, /Le Concordat de 1516/, 1910. Ullman, /Reformatoren vor der Reformation/, 1866 (Eng. Trans. by Menzies, 1855).

The withdrawal of the Popes from the capital of Christendom and the unfortunate schism, for which their residence at Avignon is mainly responsible, proved disastrous to the authority of the Holy See. The Avignon Popes were Frenchmen themselves. Their cardinals and officials belonged for the most part to the same favoured nation. They were dependent upon the King of France for protection, and in return, their revenues were at times placed at his disposal in order to ensure victory for the French banners. Such a state of affairs was certain to alienate the rulers and people of other nations, especially of Germany and England, and to prepare the way for a possible conflict in the days that were to come.

The Great Western Schism that followed upon the residence at Avignon divided Christian Europe into hostile camps, and snapped the bond of unity which was already strained to the utmost by political and national rivalries. Sincere believers were scandalised at the spectacle of two or three rival Popes, each claiming to be the successor of St. Peter, and hurling at his opponents and their supporters the severest censures of the Church. While the various claimants to the Papacy were contending for supreme power in the Church, they were obliged to make concession after concession to the rulers who supported them and to permit them to interfere in religious affairs, so that even when peace was restored and when Martin V. was universally recognised as the lawful Pope, he found himself deprived of many of the rights and prerogatives, for which his predecessors from Gregory VII. to Boniface VIII. had struggled so bravely.

Nor was this all. In their efforts to bring about a reunion, and despairing of arriving at this happy result by an agreement among the contending Popes, many honest theologians put forward principles, which, however suitable to the circumstances of the schism, were utterly subversive of the monarchical constitution of the Church. They maintained that in case of doubtful Popes the cardinals had the right to summon a General Council to decide the issue, and that all Christians were bound to submit to its decrees. In accordance with these principles the Council of Constance was convoked, and, elated with the success of this experiment, many of the more ardent spirits seemed determined to replace, or at least, to limit the authority of the Popes by the authority of General Councils summoned at regular intervals. The Pope was to be no longer supreme spiritual ruler. His position in the Church was to be rather the position of a constitutional sovereign in a state, the General Council being for the Pope what modern Parliaments are for the king.

Fortunately for the Popes such a theory was completely discredited by the excesses of its supporters at the Council of Basle, but it served to weaken the authority of the Holy See, and to put into the hands of its opponents a weapon which they were not slow to wield whenever their personal interests were affected. Henceforth appeals from the Pope to a General Council, although prohibited, were by no means unfrequent.

Yet in spite of all these reverses, had the Church been blessed with a succession of worthy Popes burning with zeal for religion, free to devote themselves to a thorough reform, and capable of understanding the altered political and social conditions of the world, the Papacy might have been restored to its old position. But unfortunately the Popes from Nicholas V. to Leo X. were not the men to repair the damage that was done, or to ward off impending danger. The calamities that threatened Europe from the advance of the Turks, and the necessity of rousing its rulers to a sense of their responsibilities occupied a large share of their attention; while the anxiety which they displayed in the miserable squabbles of the Italian kingdoms, sometimes out of disinterested regard for the temporal States of the Church, as in the case of Julius II., more frequently from a desire of providing territories for their unworthy relations, left them little time to safeguard the general well-being of the Church. In case of some of them, too, if one may judge them by their actions, the progress of Humanism seemed to be nearer to their hearts than the progress of religion.

In his personal life Nicholas V. (1447-55) was not unworthy of his exalted position, but the necessity of repairing the damage that had been done by the unruly assembly at Basle, which arrogated to itself the authority of an independent General Council, the removal of the last obstacle to the Turkish invasion of Europe in the fall of Constantinople, and the importance of securing for Rome a pre-eminent position in the great classical revival, engaged all his energies to the exclusion of necessary reforms. Calixtus III. (1455-58) was too old to do much, yet, notwithstanding his advancing years and the indifference of the European rulers, he threw himself into the struggle against the Turks, aiding and encouraging Hungary and Albania in their resistance, and it is due largely to his efforts that the victorious advance of Mahomet II. was checked by the overthrow of his forces at Belgrade (1456). Pius II.[1] (1458-64), though in his youth not the most exemplary of the Humanist school, devoted himself with earnestness and zeal to the duties of his sacred office. He published a Bull retracting all the attacks which he had made against the Papacy in his capacity as secretary to the /Concilabulum/ at Basle. He set himself to study the Scriptures and the early Fathers in place of the Pagan classics, and he showed his approbation of the Christian Humanists. But he was unable to undertake the work of reform. In view of the danger that still threatened Europe he convoked an assembly of the princes at Mantua to organise a crusade against the Turks, but they turned a deaf ear to his appeals, and, at last weary of their refusals and indifference, he determined to place himself at the head of the Christian forces for the defence of Europe and Christianity. He reached Ancona broken down in spirits and bodily health, and died before anything effective could be done. Paul II. (1464-71), who succeeded, made some efforts to purify the Roman Court. He suppressed promptly the College of Abbreviators who were noted for their greed for gold and their zeal for Paganism, and closed the Roman Academy. On account of his severity in dealing with the half Christian Humanists of the Curia he has been attacked with savage bitterness by Platina, one of the dismissed officials, in his /Lives of the Popes/,[2] but nobody is likely to be deceived by scurrilous libels, the motives of which are only too apparent. The worst that can be said against Paul II. is that he was too fond of appointing his relatives to high positions in the Church; but in mitigation of that it is well to remember that his reforms had raised up so many enemies against him in Rome, and disaffection was so rife amongst even the highest officials of his court, that he may have deemed it prudent to have relatives around him on whom he could rely.

Sixtus IV. (1471-84) was the first of the political Popes, Leo X. being the last. They are so called on account of the excessive interest they displayed in Italian politics of the period, to the neglect of the higher interests with which they were entrusted. Most of them, with the exception of Alexander VI., were not positively unworthy men, but they were too much concerned with secular pursuits to undertake a reform of the gross abuses which flourished at the very gates of their palace. The papal court was no worse and very little better than the courts of contemporary rulers, and the greed for money, which was the predominant weakness of the curial officials, alienated the sympathy of all foreigners, both lay and cleric.

Julius II. (1503-13) did, indeed, undertake the difficult task of restoring the States of the Church that had been parcelled out into petty kingdoms by his predecessors, but his policy soon brought him into conflict with Louis XII. of France. Louis demanded that a General Council should be convoked, not so much out of zeal for reform as from a desire to embarrass the Pope, and when Julius II. refused to comply with his request the king induced some of the rebellious cardinals to issue invitations for a council to meet at Pisa (Sept. 1511). Most of the bishops who met at Pisa at the appointed time were from France. The Emperor Maximilian held aloof, and the people of Pisa regarded the conventicle with no friendly feelings. The sessions were transferred from Pisa to Milan, and finally to Lyons. As a set off to this Julius II. convoked a council to meet at Rome, the fifth Lateran Council (May 1512), for the threefold purpose of healing the French schism, of proscribing certain doctrinal errors, and of undertaking the work of reform. The earlier sessions were taken up almost entirely with the schism, and before the work of reform was begun Julius II. passed away.

He was succeeded by the young and learned John de' Medici, son of Lorenzo the Magnificent of Florence, who took the name of Leo X. (1513-21). Like his father, the new Pope was a generous patron of art and literature, and bestowed upon his literary friends, some of whom were exceedingly unworthy, the highest dignities in the Church. Humanism was triumphant at the Papal Court, but, unfortunately, religion was neglected. Though in his personal life Leo X. could not be described as a deeply religious man, yet he was mindful of his vows of celibacy, attentive to the recitation of the divine, office, abstemious, and observant of the fasts of the Church. As a secular ruler he would have stood incomparably higher than any of the contemporary sovereigns of Europe, but he was out of place considerably as the head of a great religious organisation. Worldliness and indifference to the dangers that threatened the Church are the most serious charges that can be made against him, but especially in the circumstances of the time, when the Holy See should have set itself to combat the vicious tendencies of society, these faults were serious enough.

The defeat of the French forces at Novara (1513), and the loyalty of the other rulers of Europe to the Holy See induced Louis XII. of France to make peace with the new Pope, and to recognise the Lateran Council. But on the accession of Francis I. (1515-47) a fresh expedition into Italy was undertaken; the Swiss troops were overthrown at Marignano (1515) and Leo X. was obliged to conclude a Concordat[3] with the French King. By the terms of this agreement France agreed to abandon the Pragmatic Sanction of Bourges, while the Pope bestowed upon Francis I. and his successors the right of presentation to the bishoprics and abbacies in his dominions. The work of reform, which should have claimed special attention at the Lateran Council, was never undertaken seriously. Some decrees were passed prohibiting plurality of benefices, forbidding officials of the Curia to demand more than the regulation fees, recommending preaching and religious instruction of children, regulating the appointment to benefices, etc., but these decrees, apart from the fact that they left the root of the evils untouched, were never enforced. The close of the Lateran Council synchronises with the opening of Luther's campaign in Germany, for the success of which the Council's failure to respond to the repeated demands for reform is to a great extent responsible.

In any scheme for the reform of the abuses that afflicted the Church the reformation of the Papal Court itself should have occupied the foremost place. At all times a large proportion of the cardinals and higher officials were men of blameless lives, but, unfortunately, many others were utterly unworthy of their position, and their conduct was highly prejudicial to religion and to the position of the Holy See. Much of the scandalous gossip retailed by Platina in his /Lives of the Popes/, and by Burcard[4] and Infessura[5] in their /Diaries/ may be attributed to personal disappointment and diseased imaginations, but even when due allowance has been made for the frailty of human testimony, enough remains to prove that the Papal Court in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries was not calculated to inspire strangers to Rome with confidence or respect. Such corrupt and greedy officials reflected discredit on the Holy See, and afforded some justification for the charges levelled against them of using religion merely as a means of raising money.

The various taxations,[6] direct and indirect, levied by the Popes during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries helped to give colour to these accusations. It ought to be remembered, however, that the Popes could not carry on the government of the Church, and support the large body of officials whose services were absolutely necessary, without requiring help from their subjects in all parts of the world. During the residence of the Popes at Avignon additional expenses were incurred owing to the necessity of providing residences for themselves and their court, and, at the same time, the rebellions and disorders in the Papal States put an end to any hope of deriving any revenue from their own temporal dominions. On their return to Rome money was required to repair the palaces that had gone into ruin, and to enable the Popes to maintain their position as patrons of art and literature, and as the leaders of Europe in its struggle against the forces of Islam.

For this last purpose, namely, to organise the Christian forces against the Turks, the Popes claimed the right of levying a fixed tax on all ecclesiastical property. The amount of this varied from one- thirtieth to one-tenth of the annual revenue, and as a rule it was raised only for some definite period of years. Even in the days when the crusading fever was universal, such a tax excited a great deal of opposition; but when Europe had grown weary of the struggle, and when the Popes could do little owing to the failure of the temporal rulers to respond to their appeals, this form of taxation was resented bitterly, and the right of the Popes to raise taxes in this way off ecclesiastical property was questioned by the ecclesiastics affected as well as by the temporal rulers. England and France took measures to protect themselves; but in Germany the absence of any strong central authority, and the want of unity among the princes made it difficult to offer any effective resistance to these demands. In 1354, 1372, 1459, 1487, and in 1500, the German bishops protested strongly against the attempts of the Pope to levy taxes on ecclesiastical property.

But in addition to these extraordinary levies there were many permanent sources of revenue for the support of the Papal Court. In the first place from the time of Boniface IX. annats, which consisted of a certain proportion of the first year's revenue, were to be paid by all clerics on whom a minor benefice was conferred by the Holy See. In case of the major benefices, bishoprics and abbacies, the /servitia communia/ and the /servitia minuta/ took the place of annats. The /servitia communia/ was a fixed sum the amount of which depended upon the annual revenue of the See or abbey, and was divided between the Pope and the cardinals of the Curia. The /servitia minuta/, amounting to about 3 1/2 per cent. of the /servitia communia/, was given to the lower officials, who prepared the letters of appointment. The revenues of vacant Sees and the property of deceased bishops were also claimed by the Holy See. From England the Pope received yearly the Peter's Pence, and from all countries that acknowledged his feudal jurisdiction he was entitled to a definite annual tribute.

Furthermore, the reservations[7] of benefices were another fruitful source of revenue. The policy of reserving benefices to the Holy See might be defended, on the ground that it was often necessary in order to counterbalance the interference of secular rulers in regard to ecclesiastical appointments, and that it afforded the Pope a convenient means of rewarding officials whose services were required for the government of the Church. But the right of the Pope to reserve benefices was abused during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and gave rise to constant friction with the civil and ecclesiastical authorities in different countries of Europe. Reservations, instead of being the exception, became very general, and, as a result, the eyes of all ambitious clerics were turned towards Rome from which they hoped to receive promotion, whether their immediate superiors deemed them worthy or unworthy. Such a state of affairs opened the way to the most serious abuses, and not unfrequently to disedifying wrangles between rival candidates, all of whom claimed to have received their appointments from Roman officials.

Intimately connected with papal reservations were expectancies or promises given to certain persons that they would be appointed to certain benefices as soon as a vacancy would occur. Such promises of appointment were unknown in the Church before the twelfth century, but later on they became very general, and led to most serious abuses during the residence of the Popes at Avignon and during the disturbances caused by the Great Western Schism. Expectancies were adopted as a means of raising money or of securing support. Various attempts were made to put an end to such a disastrous practice, as for example at the Councils of Constance and Basle, but it was reserved for the Council of Trent to effect this much needed reform.

Again the custom of handing over benefices /in commendam/, that is of giving some person the right of drawing the revenues of a vacant benefice for a certain specified time, was highly prejudicial to the best interests of religion. Such a practice, however justifiable in case of benefices to which the care of souls was not attached, was entirely indefensible when adopted in regard to bishopric, abbacies, and minor benefices, where so much depended upon personal activity and example. The person who held the benefice /in commendam/ did nothing except to draw the revenue attached to his office, while the whole work was committed to an underpaid vicar or representative, who was obliged often to resort to all kinds of devices to secure sufficient means of support. Again though plurality of benefices was prohibited by several decrees, yet during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries nothing was more common than to find one individual holding, by virtue of a papal dispensation, two, three, six, ten, and possibly more benefices to most of which the care of souls was attached. Such a state of affairs was regarded as an intolerable scandal by right minded Christians, whether lay or cleric, and was condemned by decrees of Popes and councils; but as exceptions were made in favour of cardinals or princes, and as even outside these cases dispensations were given frequently, the evils of plurality continued unabated.

Again, the frequent applications for and concessions of dispensations in canonical irregularities by the Roman congregations were likely to make a bad impression, and to arouse the suspicion that wholesome regulations were being abandoned for the sake of the dispensation fees paid to the officials. Similarly, too, complaints were made about the dispensations given in the marriage impediments, and the abuses alleged against preachers to whose charge the duty of preaching indulgences was committed. Furthermore, the custom of accepting appeals in the Roman Courts, even when the matters in dispute were of the most trivial kind, was prejudicial to the local authorities, while the undue prolongation of such suits left the Roman lawyers exposed to the charge of making fees rather than justice the motive of their exertions.

The disturbances produced by the schism, and the interference of the state in episcopal elections helped to secure the appointment of many unworthy bishops. Even in the worst days of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries a large proportion of the bishops in the different countries of Europe were excellent men, but a large percentage also, especially in Germany, were thoroughly worldly. They were more anxious about their position as secular princes or proprietors than about the fulfilment of their sacred duties. Very often they were sprung from the nobility, and were appointed on account of their family influence without any regard to their qualifications, and, as a rule, the duties of visitation, of holding synods, and even of residing in their dioceses, were neglected. Besides, even when they were anxious to do their best, the claims of the lay patrons and the papal reservation of benefices made it difficult for them to exercise proper disciplinary control over their clergy. In many cases, too, the cathedral chapters were utterly demoralised, mainly owing to outside influence in the appointment of the canons. The clergy as a body were very far from being as bad as they have been painted by fanatical reformers or by the followers of Luther. The collections of sermons that have come down to us, the prayer books for the instruction of the faithful, the catechisms, the compilations from the Holy Scriptures, the hymns, theological works, and especially the compendiums prepared for the use of those engaged in hearing confessions, give the lie to the charge of wholesale neglect[8]; but, at the same time the want of sufficient control, the interference of lay patrons in the appointments to benefices, the absence of seminaries, and the failure of the universities to give a proper ecclesiastical training, produced their natural effect on a large body of the clergy. Grave charges of ignorance, indifference, concubinage, and simony were not wholly groundless, as the decrees of various councils sufficiently testify.

Many causes contributed to bring about a relaxation of discipline in many of the religious orders. The uncanonical appointment of abbots, the union of various abbacies in the hands of a single individual, the custom of holding abbacies /in commendam/, and the wholesale exemption from episcopal authority for which many of the religious orders contended, are sufficient to account for this general relaxation. The state of the various houses and provinces even belonging to the same order depended largely on the character of the superiors, and hence it is not fair to judge one country or one province, or even one house, by what happened in other countries, provinces, or houses. Hence arises the difficulty of arriving at any general conclusion about the religious houses. It is safe, however, to say that with the exception of the Carthusians all the older orders required reform. From the beginning of the fifteenth century attempts were made to restore the old discipline in the Benedictine communities and with considerable success. The Carmelites were divided into two main branches, the Calced and the Discalced; the Franciscans were divided into three main bodies, the Conventuals, the Observants, and the Capuchins; the Dominicans made various efforts to restore the ancient discipline especially from about the beginning of the fifteenth century; while many of the Augustinians who were determined on reform established new congregations, as for example, the Discalced Augustinian Hermits, who spread themselves over France, Spain, and Portugal. In addition, various new congregations, amongst them the Oblates founded in 1433 by St. Francisca Romana, and the Hermit Brothers in 1435 by St. Francis of Paula, were established to meet the necessities of the age.[9]

Unfortunately the endless disputes between the religious and secular clergy[10] at this period tended to distract the attention of both from their spiritual work, and to give rise to considerable disorder and discontent. On the one side, men like the Paris professor, John Poilly and Richard Fitzralph, Archbishop of Armagh, were too extreme and seemed inclined to leave to the religious orders no place in the ministration of the Church, while on the other, some of the religious, such as the Franciscan, John von Gorrel, wished to assert for themselves complete independence of episcopal control. Various attempts were made by Boniface VIII., Benedict XI., Alexander V., John XXII., Calixtus III., Sixtus IV., and by the Councils of Constance and Basle to settle these disputes, but without much permanent result. It was only in the eleventh session of the Fifth Lateran Council (1516) that Leo X. promulgated the decrees, which in substance hold good at the present time, fixing the relation between the bishops and the regular clergy.[11]

Many of the fanatical preachers anxious for reform were guilty of undoubted exaggeration in the pictures which they painted of clerical life at the time, as were also not a few of the Humanists, anxious to cast ridicule on their opponents. But even when all due allowance has been made for these exaggerations in such works as the /Onus Ecclesiae/[12] of Bishop Berthold, the rhymed sermons of one of the great Franciscan opponents of Luther, Thomas Murner (1475-1537), which became popular in Germany under the titles of the /Narrenbeschworung/ and the /Schelmenzunft/, Faber's /Tractatus de Ruinae Ecclesiae Planctu/, the /Encomium Moriae/ of Erasmus, the Dialogues of St. German in England, the /Narrenschiff/ of Sebastian Brant, and the petitions of the Spanish Cortes, enough remains to convince any reasonable man that a reform of the clergy was an urgent necessity.

For many years the cry of reform of the Church in its head and members had been heard in nearly every country of Europe. The justice of such a demand was admitted universally, but the difficulties in the way were so great that no Pope cared to risk a generous scheme of reform. Most of the abuses of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries might be traced back to the decline of the papal power during the Avignon exile and the Great Western Schism. When peace was restored to the Church, and when the Popes might have done something for the revival of ecclesiastical discipline, the advocates of the conciliar theory blocked the way by their extravagant attacks on the Papacy, and by their attempts to destroy the supremacy of the Holy See under the guise of reforming the Roman Curia. Besides, it was impossible to carry through any effective measures for the removal of abuses without attacking what were regarded as vested interests, and the holders of these interests were determined not to yield without a struggle. The cardinals wished to restrict the rights of the Pope; the bishops wished to reform the cardinals and the Papal Court; the Paris doctors wished to reform the bishops and the regular clergy; while the regular clergy traced all the evils in the Church to the indifference and neglect of the secular priests. Unfortunately there was no man endowed with the foresight and the courage of Gregory VII. to put his finger upon the real cause of the downfall, namely the slavery of the Church, and to lead a campaign for the independence of the spiritual power, particularly for the restoration of free canonical elections.

At the Council of Constance everybody recognised the necessity of reform, but the jealousies of the various nations, the opposition of the interests concerned, and the fear of provoking a new schism, made it impossible to do more than to adopt temporary expedients, which, it was hoped, might give some relief. Decrees concerning exemption from episcopal authority, the union of benefices, simony, tithes, and the duties of the clerical state were promulgated in the fourteenth session, and the other questions, upon which the different nations could not agree, were to be regulated by Concordats with the Holy See. The Concordat with the German nation dealt with canonical election, appeals to Rome, annats, indulgences, dispensations, and the limitation of excommunication; the English Concordat insisted on the right of England to be represented in the college of cardinals and contained clauses dealing with indulgences and dispensations; the Concordant with Castile regarded the number of cardinals, the reservation and collation of benefices, annats, /commendams/, appeals, and indulgences; by the Concordat with France it was arranged that owing to the wars in which France was engaged the annats and other taxes payable to the Holy See should be reduced considerably. Measures such as these were utterly inadequate even had they been observed to the letter, but in reality complaints were made frequently, especially in Germany, that they were disregarded.

The Council which met in Siena (1524) was entirely unrepresentative, and was dissolved without having accomplished anything. But great hopes were expressed that the Council of Basle would formulate and carry out a thorough scheme of reform. Unfortunately, however, these hopes were doomed to disappointment. An extreme section, hostile to the Papacy and determined to weaken its position, dominated the Council, and made it impossible to do the work for which the assembly had been convoked. Though the council held its first session in 1431, nearly four years passed before any reform decrees were issued. They dealt with concubinage, excommunication, the abuse of interdicts, and the abolition of annats and other taxes payable to the Holy See. The violence with which the Council assailed Eugene IV., and the fear of a new schism alienated many who were anxious for reform, but who were not willing to attack the essential prerogatives of the Pope. The clergy of France met at Bourges in 1432, and with their consent the Pragmatic Sanction of Bourges was published by the king in 1438. According to this edict annats were retained, but were reduced to one- fifth of the amount formerly paid, and most of the reformatory decrees of Basle were adopted for use in France. Germany was desirous of reform, but at the same time unwilling to break with the Holy See, and hence the German nation remained neutral in the disputes between Eugene IV. and the Council. Finally Germany returned to its allegiance, and the Concordat of Vienna was signed in 1448, according to which the right of the Pope to make appointments to benefices in the Empire and the amount of the fees to be paid to the Curia were regulated. This agreement was not regarded with favour in some parts of Germany, and complaints were made frequently by the princes that the terms of the agreement were not observed by the Roman officials. England also took steps to protect itself by the Statutes of /Provisors/ and /Praemunire/ (1453). These statutes rendered null and void all collations, reservations or provisions of benefices made by the Holy See in England, and forbade all appeals to the Roman tribunal on questions which could be settled before English tribunals.

During the pontificate of Nicholas V., Calixtus III., and Pius II., very little was done for reform. The fear that if another General Council were convoked the disgraceful scenes of Basle might be repeated, and the dangers which threatened Europe from a Turkish invasion, seem to have paralysed the Popes, and to have prevented them from taking effective measures to abolish evident abuses. Paul II. did, indeed, take action against the Pagan Humanists who barely concealed their antipathy to Christianity even in the city of the Popes, but he took no steps to remove the influences which had made such a state of affairs possible. As a rule at each successive conclave the cardinal electors pledged themselves that whichever of them should be elected would undertake certain measures, some of which might have redounded to the good of the universal Church, others of them merely to the advantage of the sacred college itself; but these election agreements were always quashed, and the evil was allowed to increase without check. From the election of Sixtus IV. the tendency was steadily downwards, till in the days of Alexander VI. the Papacy reached its lowest point. At a time when even people indifferent to religion were shocked by the state of affairs at the Roman Court, it is no wonder that a zealous and holy ecclesiastic like the great Dominican Savonarola[13] should have denounced these abuses in no uncertain language, and should have warned Alexander VI. of the terrible judgment in store for the Church unless some steps were taken to avert the indignation of an offended Almighty. The threats and warnings of Savonarola were, however, scoffed at as the unbridled outbursts of a disappointed fanatic, and the cry for reform was put aside as unworthy of attention.

Julius II. (1503-13) was personally above reproach, but the circumstances of his time allowed him very little opportunity to undertake a generous plan of reform. The recovery of the Papal States that had been frittered away by his predecessors in providing territories for their family connections, the wars in Italy, and the schemes of Louis XII. forced the Pope to play the part of a soldier rather than that of an ecclesiastic, and delayed the convocation of the General Council to which right-minded Christians looked for some relief. Louis XII., taking advantage of this general desire, forestalled the Pope by inducing some of the cardinals to summon a General Council to meet at Pisa (September 1511). The assembly met at Pisa and adjourned to Lyons, but the feeling of loyalty to the Pope was too strong for Louis XII., and the assembly at Lyons could count on very little support outside France. Julius II. determined to summon a General Council to meet in Rome for the reformation of the Church. This, the Fifth Lateran Council, as it was called, was opened in May 1512, but the earlier sessions were devoted almost entirely to the condemnation of the French schism, the decrees of the /Conciliabulum/ at Lyons, and the Pragmatic Sanction. Before the work of reform could be taken in hand Julius XII. died (1513), and the young cardinal deacon, John de' Medici, ascended the papal throne under the title of Leo X.

From the new Pope, if one were to judge him by his antecedents, a development of classical learning and art might be expected rather than a renewal of religion. Personally Leo X. was not a wicked man. On the contrary in his private life he was attentive to his religious duties, but he was indifferent and inclined to let things shape their own course. The Lateran Council did, indeed, undertake the restoration of ecclesiastical discipline. It condemned abuses in connexion with the bestowal of benefices, decreed the reformation of the Curia, especially in regard to taxes, defined the position of the regulars in regard to the bishops of the dioceses in which their houses were situated, ordered the bishops to enforce their censorship over books published within their jurisdiction, and approved of the Concordat that had been arranged between Leo and Francis I. (1516).

Such reforms as these were so completely inadequate that they failed to give satisfaction to the host of clerics and laymen who desired a thorough reform. The news that the Council was dissolved in March 1517 without having grappled with the urgent reform of the Church in its head and members, sent a thrill of dismay throughout the Christian world, and secured for Luther the sympathy of many when a few months later he opened his campaign at Wittenberg. It was thought at first that he aimed merely at the removal of abuses, and in this work he could have counted upon the active co-operation of some of the leading German ecclesiastics, who showed themselves his strongest opponents once they realised that he aimed not so much at reform as at the destruction of the Church and of all religious authority. —————

[1] Weiss, /Aeneas Silvius als Papst Pius II./, 1897. Boulting, /Aeneas Silvius, Orator, Man of Letters, Statesman, and Pope/, 1908.

[2] /Vitae Pontificum Romanorum/, etc., 1479.

[3] Thomas, /Le Concordat de 1516/, 1910.

[4] Burcadus, /Diarium Innocen. VIII. et Alex. VI./, Florence, 1884. /Diarium sive rerum urbanarum Commentarii/ (1483-1506), 1883-5.

[5] Infessura, /Diario d. Citta di Roma/, 1890.

[6] Tangl, /Das Taxwesen der papstlichen Kanzlei/, 1892. Samaran et Mollat, /La fiscalite pontificate en France du XVe siecle/, 1905. Kirsch, /Die papstlichen Kollektorien in Deutschland wahrend des 14 Jahr/, 1894.

[7] Lux, /Constitutionum Apostolicarum de generali beneficiorum reservatione ab anno 1265 ad an. 1378/, etc., 1904.

[8] Cf. Gasquet, /Eve of the Reformation/, chap. ix. Janssen, op. cit., Eng. Trans., vol. i., pp. 9-86. Leclerc, /Memoire sur la predication au XIV. siecle/ (/Hist. Litter. de France/, tom. xxiv.).

[9] Helyot, /Hist. des ordres monastiques/, 8 vols., 1714-19. Henrion,
/Allgem. Geschichte der Monchsorden/, 1855.

[10] Paulus, /Welt und Ordensklerus beim Ausgange des 13 Jahrh/, etc.,
1901.

[11] Raynaldus, /Annal. an./ 1515, 1516.

[12] Published in 1524.

[13] Lucas, /Fra Girolamo Savonarola/, 1906. O'Neill, /Jerome Savonarola/, 1898.

CHAPTER II

THE RELIGIOUS REVOLUTION

LUTHERIANISM AND ZWINGLIANISM

(a) In Germany.

Janssen, op. cit. (i., a). Pastor, op. cit. (i. a). Dollinger, /Die Reformation/, 1846-8. Hergenrother-Kirsch, op. cit. (i., b). Grisar, S.J., /Luther/, 3 Bde, 1911-12 (Eng. Trans. 1913-14). Denifle-Weiss, O.P., /Luther und Luthertum in der ersten Entwicklung/, 1906-9. Weiss, /Lutherpsychologie als Schlussel zur Lutherlegende/, 2 auf., 1906. Hausrath, /Luthers Leben/, 2 Bde. 1904. Kostlin-Kawerau, /Martin Luther, Sein Leben und seine schriften/, 1903. Cardauns, /Zur Geschichte der Kirchlichen Unions —und Reformsbestrebungen von 1538-42/, 1910. Laemmer, /Monumenta Vaticana historiam ecclesiasticam saeculi XVI. illustrantia/, 1861. Raynaldus, /Annales Ecclesiastici/, 1735 (tom. xx.-xxi.). Armstrong, /The Emperor Charles V./, 1902. /Cambridge Modern History/, vol. ii. (The Reformation), 1903. Kidd, /Documents Illustrative of the Continental Reformation/, 1911. For a fairly complete bibliography on this period of history, cf. Grisar's /Luther/ (Eng. Trans., vol. i., xv.-xxv.; Cambridge Modern History, ii., pp. 728-64; Hergenrother-Kirsch, Bd. iii., pp. 4-8).

The religious revolt that had been foretold by many earnest ecclesiastics began in Germany in 1517. Its leader was Martin Luther, the son of a miner, born at Eisleben in 1483. As a boy he attended school at Eisenach and Magdeburg, supporting himself by singing in the streets until a kind benefactress came to his assistance in the person of Ursula Cotta. His father, having improved his position in the world, determined to send the youth to study law at the University of Erfurt, which was then one of the leading centres of Humanism on the northern side of the Alps. But though Luther was in close touch with some of the principal classical scholars of Germany and was by no means an indifferent classical scholar himself, there is no evidence of his having been influenced largely in his religious views by the Humanist movement. He turned his attention principally to the study of philosophy, and having received his degree in 1505, he began to lecture on the physics and ethics of Aristotle.

Suddenly, to the surprise of his friends, and the no small vexation of his father the young Luther, who had not been particularly remarkable for his religious fervour, abandoned his career at the university and entered the novitiate of the Augustinian monastery at Erfurt (July 1505). The motives which induced him to take this unexpected step are not clear. Some say he was led to do so by the sudden death of a student friend, others that it was in fulfilment of a vow which he had made during a frightful thunderstorm that overtook him on a journey from his father's house to Erfurt, while he himself tells us that he became a monk because he had lost confidence in himself.[1] Of his life as a student very little is known for certain. Probably he was no worse and no better than his companions in a university city, which was described by himself in later life as a "beerhouse" and a "nest of immorality."[2]

The sudden change from the freedom and excitement of the university to the silence and monotony of the cloister had a depressing influence on a man like Luther, who, being of a nervous, highly-strung temperament, was inclined to pass quickly from one extreme to another. He began to be gloomy and scrupulous, and was driven at times almost to despair of his salvation; but Staupitz, the superior of the province, endeavoured to console him by impressing on him the necessity of putting his trust entirely in the merits of Christ. Yet in spite of his scruples Luther's life as a novice was a happy one. He was assiduous in the performance of his duties, attentive to the instruction of his superiors, and especially anxious to acquire a close acquaintance with the Sacred Scriptures, the reading and study of which were strongly recommended to all novices in the Augustinian order at this period.[3] In 1506 he was allowed to make his vows, and in the following year he was ordained priest. During the celebration of his first Mass he was so overcome by a sense of his own unworthiness to offer up such a pure sacrifice that he would have fled from the altar before beginning the canon had it not been for his assistants, and throughout the ceremony he was troubled lest he should commit a mortal sin by the slightest neglect of the rubrics. At the breakfast that followed, to which Luther's relatives had been invited, father and son met for the first time since Luther entered the monastery. While the young priest waxed eloquent about the happiness of his vocation and about the storm from heaven that helped him to understand himself, his father, who had kept silent throughout the repast, unable to restrain himself any longer interrupted suddenly with the remark that possibly he was deceived, and that what he took to be from God might have been the work of the devil. "I sit here," he continued, "eating and drinking but I would much prefer to be far from this spot." Luther tried to pacify him by reminding him of the godly character of monasticism, but the interruption was never forgotten by Luther himself or by his friends who heard it.

After his ordination the young monk turned his attention to theology, but, unfortunately, the theological training given to the Augustinian novices at this period was of the poorest and most meagre kind.[4] He studied little if anything of the works of the early Fathers, and never learned to appreciate Scholasticism as expounded by its greatest masters, St. Thomas or St. Bonaventure. His knowledge of Scholastic Theology was derived mainly from the works of the rebel friar William of Occam, who, in his own time, was at constant war with the Popes, and who, during the greater part of his life, if not at the moment of his death, was under sentence of excommunication from the Church. The writings of such a man, betraying as they did an almost complete unacquaintance with the Scriptures and exaggerating men's natural powers to the undervaluing or partial exclusion of Grace, exercised a baneful influence on a man of Luther's tastes and temperaments. Accepted by Luther as characteristic of Scholastic Theology, such writings prejudiced him against the entire system. Acting on the advice of the provincial, Staupitz, he gave himself up with great zeal to the study of the Bible, and later on he turned his attention to the works of St. Augustine, particularly the works written in defence of the Catholic doctrine on Grace against the Pelagians. In 1508 he went to the university of Wittenberg, founded recently by Frederick of Saxony, to lecture on Logic and Ethics, and to continue his theological studies; but for some reason, as yet unexplained, he was recalled suddenly to his monastery at Erfurt, where he acquired fame rapidly as a lecturer and preacher.

Thirty foundations of the Augustinians in Saxony had accepted the reform begun by Andrew Proles in the fifteenth century, and had separated themselves definitely from the unreformed houses of the order in Germany. They were subject immediately to the general of the order, whose vicar at this time in Saxony was the well-known Humanist, Staupitz.[5] The latter was anxious to bring about a reunion between the two parties and to have himself appointed as superior; but the party who stood for the strict observance were opposed bitterly to such a step, and determined to send a representative to Rome to plead their cause. The fact that they selected so young a man as Luther to champion their interests is a sufficient proof of the position which he had won for himself amongst his religious brethren. He was looked up to already as an ornament of the order, and his selection for this highly important mission served to increase the over-weening pride and self-confidence that had manifested themselves already as weak spots in his character. Accompanied by a companion of his order he started on his long journey across the Alps. As he reached the heights of Monte Mario and surveyed the Popes he fell on his knees, according to the custom of the pilgrims, and hailed "the city thrice sanctified by the blood of martyrs." He had looked forward with pleasure to a stay in Rome, where he might have an opportunity of setting his scruples to rest by a general confession of his sins, but, unfortunately, his brother Augustinians in Rome and those with whom he came most in contact seemed to have been more anxious to regale him with stories about the real or imaginary scandals of the city than to give him spiritual consolation or advice. Yet in later life, when he had definitely separated from the Church and when he was most anxious to blacken the character of Rome and the Popes, it is remarkable that he could point to very little detrimental to them of which he had personal knowledge, and was forced to rely solely on what had been told him by others. Nor did he leave Rome as a declared enemy of the Papacy, for even so late as 1516 he defended warmly the supremacy of the Pope as the one safeguard for the unity of the Church.[6] Many of his biographers, indeed, assert that, as he stood by the /Scala Sancta/ and witnessed the pilgrims ascending on their bare knees, he turned aside disgusted with the sight and repeated the words of St. Paul, "the just man lives by his faith"; but such a statement, due entirely to the imagination of his relatives and admirers is rejected as a legend by those best qualified to judge.[7] The threatened union of the strict and unreformed that had occasioned Luther's journey to Rome was abandoned; but it is worthy of note that Staupitz had succeeded in detaching him from his former friends, and that he returned to Germany a convinced and violent opponent of the party of strict observance, who had sent him to Rome as their representative. During his stay in the city there is good reason for believing that on his own behalf he sought for permission to lay aside his monastic habit and to devote himself for ten years to study in Italy, but his request was refused on the ground that it was not supported by the authority of his superiors. This petition was probably the foundation for the rumours that were circulated in Germany by his opponents that while in Rome he endeavoured to have himself "secularised" and to obtain a dispensation to marry.

On his return to Germany he devoted himself once more to the study of theology in preparation for the doctorate which he won at Wittenberg in 1512. Almost immediately he was appointed professor at the university and undertook to lecture on the Psalms. His eloquence and his imagination, his retentive memory enabling him to illustrate his texts by parallel passages drawn from the books of the Old Testament, and in a certain way his exaggerations, his strength of diction, and his asperity of language towards all with whose views he did not find himself in agreement, made his lectures most popular at the university, and filled his hall with an eager and attentive audience. Amongst the students Luther had no rival, and even the few professors who were inclined to resent his methods and his views were captivated by the magic influence of their brilliant young colleague. The Augustinians, mindful of the honour he was achieving for their order, hastened to appoint him to the important position of district vicar (1515), while the Elector Frederick could not conceal his delight at having secured the services of so capable a professor for the new university.

At Wittenberg Luther felt himself completely at home. He was proud of the distinctions conferred upon him by his brethren, and of the influence accorded to him by his companions in the university. Great as were his industry and his powers of application, yet they were put to the most severe tests to enable him to complete the programme he had set himself to accomplish. His lectures at the university, his sermons preached in the Augustinian church, his visitations of the houses of his order in the district over which he was vicar, his correspondence, partly routine and partly entailed by his close relations with some of the leading men in Germany, occupied all his time even to the exclusion of the spiritual exercises enjoined by his rule. Very frequently he neglected to celebrate Mass or even to read the divine office, and then alarmed by his negligence and guilt he had recourse to extraordinary forms of penance. Fits of laxity were followed by fits of scrupulousness until at last he was driven at times almost to despair. It was then that he called to mind the consoling advice given to him by his superior that he should put his trust in the merits of Christ, and the teaching of St. Augustine on the frailty of human nature unless it was aided and supported by divine Grace. He began to develop the idea that justification could not be acquired by good works, that concupiscence could not be overcome, and that consequently man could be justified only by the imputation of the merits of Christ. Years before, views such as these had been passing through his mind, as may be seen in his sermons against the Augustinians of the strict observance, but they found adequate expression only in his commentaries on the Epistles of St. Paul to the Romans and to the Galatians (1515-6). Still, as yet, he held strongly to the principle of authority in matters of religion, and inveighed against heretics who would dare to set aside the authority of the Pope in order to follow their own judgment. In reality, however, his own teaching on merit and justification was no longer in harmony with Catholic doctrine, and only a slight occasion was required to bring him into open and definite conflict with the authorities of the Church.

This occasion was provided by the preaching in Germany of an Indulgence proclaimed by Leo X. (1513-21). The building of St. Peter's had been begun by Julius II. and was continued by his successor Leo X., the son of Lorenzo de' Medici, and the great patron of the Humanist movement. In order to provide funds to enable him to continue this gigantic undertaking Leo X. proclaimed an Indulgence. In addition to Confession and Holy Communion it was ordered that those of the faithful who wished to share in the spiritual favours granted by the Pope should contribute according to their means for the completion of St. Peter's, or that they should pray for the success of the work in case poverty did not permit them to give alms. The publication of the Indulgence in a great part of Germany was entrusted to Albrecht of Brandenberg, who had been elected Archbishop of Mainz though he was already Archbishop of Magdeburg and Administrator of Halberstadt. The fees to be paid by an archbishop appointed to Mainz were exceptionally high not to speak of the large sum required for the extraordinary favour of being allowed to hold two archbishoprics. As a means of enabling Albrecht to raise the required amount, it was proposed by an official of the Datary that he should be allowed to retain half of the contributions given on the occasion of the publication of the Indulgence in the provinces of Mainz and Magdeburg, and in the lands of the House of Brandenburg.

To publish the Indulgence in the above-mentioned territories Albrecht appointed the Dominican John Tetzel,[8] who had acquired already considerable renown as a preacher. Tetzel was a man of solid education and of good moral standing, whose reputation as a successful popular preacher stood high in Germany at this period. Many grave abuses have been alleged against him by his enemies concerning his manner of carrying out the office entrusted to him by the archbishop, and in regard to his own private life serious crimes have been laid to his charge; but as a matter of history it is now admitted that Tetzel was a much maligned man, that his own conduct can bear the fullest scrutiny, and that in his preaching the worst that can be said against him is that he put forward as certainties, especially in regard to gaining indulgences for the souls of the faithful departed, what were merely the opinions of certain schools of theologians. Nor is it true to say that as the result of his activity vast sums of money made their way into the papal treasury. The accounts of the monies received during the greater portion of the time are now available, and it can be seen that when all expenses were paid comparatively little remained for either the Archbishop of Mainz or the building fund of St. Peter's.[9]

Tetzel preached with considerable success in Halberstadt, Magdeburg and Leipzig, and in May 1517 he found himself in the neighbourhood of Wittenberg, whence many people flocked to see him, and to gain the Indulgence. This was not calculated to please Luther or his patron the Elector, Frederick of Saxony, and provided Luther with an occasion of giving vent to his own views on good works, Grace, and Justification. Years before, both in his sermons attacking the Augustinians of the strict observance for their over confidence in the merits of good works and penance, and in his commentaries on the Epistles of St. Paul to the Romans and to the Galatians, he had indicated already that his views on man's power to do anything good, and on the means and nature of justification differed widely from those put forward by Catholic theologians. At last, after careful consideration, following the bent of his own inclination and the advice of his friends, he determined to take the field openly by publishing, on the eve of the festival of All Saints, 1517, his celebrated seventy theses against Indulgences.[10] This document was drawn up with great skill and foresight. Some of the theses were perfectly orthodox and professed great reverence for the teaching of the Church and the authority of the Pope; others of them were open to an orthodox as well as to an unorthodox interpretation; others, still, were opposed clearly and definitely to Catholic doctrine, and all of them were put forward in a way that was likely to arrest public attention and to win the support of the masses.[11] They were affixed to the doors of the university church in Wittenberg, and copies of them were spread broadcast through Germany. Before a week had elapsed they were discussed with eagerness in all parts of the country, and the state of feeling became so intense that Tetzel was obliged to discontinue his mission, and to retire to Frankfurt, where under the direction of Wimpina, he set himself to draw up a number of counter theses which he offered to defend.

The circumstances of the time were very favourable to a campaign such as Luther had initiated. The princes of Germany and even some of the bishops made no secret of their opinion that indulgences had been abused, and many of them were anything but displeased at the step that had been taken by the Wittenberg professor. The old opposition between the Teuton and the Latin was growing daily more marked owing to the violent and abusive language of men like Ulrich von Hutten, who posed as German patriots; while the Humanist party, roused by the attacks made upon Reuchlin by the Dominicans of Cologne, backed by the Scholastic Theologians, were not sorry to see their opponents challenged in their own special department, and obliged to act on the defensive. The knights or lower nobles, too, who had been deprived of many of their privileges by the princes, were ready for any scheme of violence in the hope that it might conduce to their advantage; and the lower classes ground down for centuries were beginning to realise their own strength, partly owing to the spread of secret societies, and were willing to lend a ready ear to a leader who had given expression to views that were coursing already through their minds.

From all parts of Germany letters of congratulation poured in upon Luther. Many of these came from men who had no desire for a religious change, but who thought that Luther's campaign was directed only against abuses in the Church. From the Humanists, from several of the professors and students of Wittenberg, and even from the superiors of his order he received unstinted praise and encouragement. At least one of the bishops, Lorenz von Bibra of Wurzburg, hastened to intercede for him with Frederick the Elector of Saxony, while none of the others took up an attitude of unflinching opposition. Tetzel, who had been forced to abandon his work of preaching, defended publicly at Frankfurt on the Maine a number of counter theses formulated by Conrad Wimpina. To this attack Luther replied in a sermon on indulgences in which he aimed at expressing in a popular style the kernel of the doctrine contained in his theses. Sylvester Prierias, the master of the Sacred Palace in Rome, to whom Luther's theses had been forwarded for examination, published a sharp attack upon them,[12] and was answered in Luther's most abusive style. The most distinguished, however, of the men who took the field against him was John Eck,[13] Professor of Theology and Vice-Chancellor of the University of Ingolstadt. He was a man well versed in the Scriptures and in the writings of the Fathers, a ready speaker and an incisive writer, in every way qualified to meet such a versatile opponent. While on a visit with the Bishop of Eichstatt he was consulted about Luther's theses, and gave his opinion in the /Obelisks/ on the dangerous character of the teaching they contained. The /Obelisks/ was prepared hastily and was not intended for publication, but it was regarded as so important that copies of it were circulated freely even before it was given to the world. Luther replied in the /Asterisks/, a work full of personal invective and abuse. A Dominican of Cologne, Hochstraten, also entered the lists against Luther, but his intervention did more harm than good to the cause of the Church by alienating the Humanist party whom he assailed fiercely as allies and abettors of Luther. These attacks, however, served only to give notoriety to Luther's views and to win for him the sympathy of his friends. His opponents made one great mistake. Their works were intended in great part only for the learned, while Luther aimed principally at appealing to the masses of the people. The Augustinians represented him as the victim of a Dominican conspiracy, and to show their high appreciation of his services they selected him to conduct the theological disputation at a chapter meeting held at Leipzig six months after the publication of his theses (1518). At this same meeting Luther defended the view that free will in man and all power of doing good were destroyed by original sin, and that everything meritorious accomplished by man is really done by God. His old opponent at the university, Bodenstein (surnamed Carlstadt from his place of birth), declared himself openly in favour of Luther's teaching on free will, and published a reply to Eck.

As a result of this controversy between Eck and Carlstadt it was arranged that a public disputation should be held at Leipzig (27 June- 15 July, 1519). The Catholic teaching was to be defended by Eck against his two opponents, Luther and Carlstadt. A hall in the castle of Pleissenburg was placed at the disposal of the disputants by Duke George of Saxony, who was a convinced Catholic himself, and who believed that the disputation might be the means of removing many doubts and misunderstandings. The acts of the disputation were to be drawn up and forwarded to the Universities of Paris and Erfurt for their decision. When it became known throughout Germany that a meeting had been arranged between Eck and his two principal opponents, the excitement, especially in the learned circles, became intense, and so great was the rush of scholars from all parts of the country to witness the encounter, that the immense hall was packed with an eager and attentive audience when Eck and Carlstadt entered the pulpits that had been prepared for them.

Few men in Germany, or outside it, were more fitted to hold their own in such a disputation than the distinguished Vice-Chancellor of Ingolstadt. He was a man of imposing appearance, gifted with a clear and pleasing voice and good memory, even tempered and ready, quick to detect the weak points of his adversaries, and keenly alert to their damaging concessions and admissions. The first point to be debated between him and Carlstadt was the question of Grace and Free Will. Carlstadt was at last obliged to concede that the human will was active at least to the extent of co-operating or of not co-operating with divine Grace, a concession that was opposed entirely to the thesis he had undertaken to sustain. Luther, alarmed by the discomfiture of his colleague, determined to enter the lists at once on the question of the primacy of the Roman See. He was not, however, more successful than Carlstadt. Eck, taking advantage of Luther's irascible temperament and his exaggerations of speech, forced him step by step to put aside as worthless interpretations given by the early Fathers to certain passages of Scripture, and to reject the authority and infallibility of General Councils. Such a line of arguments, opposed as it was to the teaching and beliefs of the Church, roused the opposition of the audience, and served to open the eyes of Duke George to the real nature of Luther's movement. Annoyed by his own defeat and by the attentions and applause lavished upon his rival by the people of Leipzig, Luther left the city in disgust. The disputation undoubtedly did good in so far as it made clear to all the position of the two parties, and succeeded in holding Duke George of Saxony and the city of Leipzig loyal to the Church; but it also did much harm by giving Luther the notoriety that he was so anxious to obtain, and by winning to his side Philip Melanchthon, who was destined to be in after life his ablest lieutenant. Both sides, as is usual in such contests, claimed the victory. The Universities of Cologne and Louvain condemned Luther immediately, as did also Paris in 1521, but as far as can be known Erfurt pronounced no decision on the questions submitted.

Meanwhile what was the attitude of the authorities in Rome towards Luther's movement. Leo X., having learned something of the turmoil created in Germany by Luther's theses and sermons, requested the vicar-general of the Augustinians to induce his rebellious subject to recall his teaching, or, at least, to keep silent. The vicar wrote to the principal, Staupitz, but, as the latter was one of those who had encouraged Luther to take the steps he had taken, very little was done to secure peace. Luther was, however, induced to write a most submissive letter to the Pope in which he begged for an investigation, pledging himself at the same time to accept the decision of Leo X. as the decision of Christ (30th May, 1518).[14] Not satisfied with the course of events, and alarmed by the reports forwarded to him from Germany, the Pope appointed a commission to examine the whole question, the result of which commission was that Luther was summoned to submit at once or to appear at Rome to defend himself within sixty days.

He and his friends were thrown into a state of great alarm by this unexpected step. On the one hand, were he to submit and to acknowledge that he had been in error his reputation would be shattered, the Augustinians would feel themselves disgraced, and the University of Wittenberg would lose caste in the estimation of educated Germans. On the other hand, if he adopted the bold policy of refusing to yield to the papal entreaties he was in danger of being denounced publicly as a heretic. In this difficult situation his friends determined to invoke the protection of the Elector Frederick of Saxony, the founder and patron of Wittenberg University. Alarmed by the danger that threatened this institution from the removal or excommunication of one of its most popular professors, and anxious to gain time, Frederick requested the Pope to refer the matter for decision to some German bishop or to a neutral university. In reply to this request Leo X. appointed Cardinal Cajetan, papal legate in Germany, to hold an inquiry (23 Aug., 1518). Luther, having armed himself with a safe conduct, went to Augsburg to meet the papal representative, who received him very kindly, and exhorted him to withdraw his statements and submit. Luther endeavoured to induce the cardinal to enter into a discussion on the questions in dispute, but the latter did not allow himself to be drawn into a disputation. Finally, Luther refused to submit, though, at the same time, he declared solemnly that he wished unsaid and unwritten what he had said or written against the Roman Church. A few days later he fled from Augsburg after having drawn up a formal appeal "from the Pope ill-informed to the Pope well-informed," while the cardinal, disappointed by the failure of his efforts, turned to the Elector of Saxony for help against the rebellious monk. But the latter, deceived by the recommendations forwarded on Luther's behalf by his own superior, Staupitz, yielded to the entreaties of Spalatin, the court chaplain, and of the professors of Wittenberg, and declined to take any steps to compel Luther to submit. Fearful, however, lest his patron might not be able to shield him from the censures of Rome, Luther determined to anticipate the expected condemnation by issuing an appeal to a future General Council (28 Nov., 1518).

In the meantime Leo X. who had learned from his representative the result of the Augsburg interviews, issued the Bull, /Cum postquam/ (9 Nov., 1518), in which he explained authoritatively the Catholic doctrine on Indulgences, and threatened excommunication against all who refused to accept it. This document was deprived of much of its effect owing to the misrepresentations of Luther and his friends, who announced that it owed its origin to the schemes and intrigues of their Dominican opponents at Rome and in Germany. The occasion called for speedy and decisive action. But the impending imperial election, in which Charles I. of Spain (1516-56) and Francis I. of France (1515- 47) were to be rival candidates, made it necessary for the Pope to proceed cautiously, and above all, to do nothing that might antagonise the Elector of Saxony, whose influence would be of the greatest importance in deciding the votes of the electoral college, if, indeed, it did not secure his own election. Had the appointment of a successor to Maximilian I. rested with Leo X. it can hardly be doubted that, in the hope of preserving the balance of power and of securing the freedom of the Holy See, he would have favoured the claims of the Elector against either or both the rival monarchs.[15]

In these circumstances it was decided to send Karl von Miltitz,[16] who was by birth a Saxon nobleman and at that period a chamberlain at the Papal Court, to present Frederick with the Golden Rose, and to bring about a peaceful settlement of a controversy that had been disturbing the whole Empire. The selection of Miltitz for such a delicate mission was most unfortunate. Proud, obstinate, and ill- informed about the real issues at stake, he was anxious to have the glory of putting an end to the controversy at all costs, and hence he was willing to appear before Luther as a humble suitor for peace rather than as a stern judge. All his severity and reproaches were reserved for Luther's opponents, especially for Tetzel, whom he held primarily responsible for the whole mischief, and towards whom he acted both imprudently and unjustly. The Elector showed himself but little inclined to respond to the advances of Leo X. He consented, however, to arrange an interview between Miltitz and Luther at Altenburg (Jan. 1519). During the course of the interviews that took place between them, Luther pledged himself to remain silent if his opponents were forced to do likewise. He promised, too, that if Miltitz wrote advising the Pope to appoint a German bishop to try the case and to convince him of his error he would be willing to retract his theses, to submit to the Church, and to advise all his supporters to remain loyal to the Holy See. At the same time he prepared a letter for transmission to Rome, in which he addressed the Pope in the most respectful terms, declaring as on oath before God and creatures that it never entered into his mind to attack in any way the authority of the Roman Church or of the Pope, that he confessed willingly that in this Church was vested supreme jurisdiction, and that neither in heaven or on earth was there anything he should put before it except Jesus Christ the Lord of all things.[17] Throughout these proceedings it is clear that Luther meant only to deceive Miltitz and to lull the suspicions of the Roman authorities, until the seed he had planted should have taken root. Only a short time before he had written to a friend, hinting that the Pope was the real Anti-Christ mentioned by St. Paul in the Second Epistle to the Thessalonians, and asserting his ability to prove that he who ruled at the Roman Court was worse than the Turk.[18]

Several months passed and no further steps were taken by Rome to meet the crisis. This delay was due in great measure to the death of Maximilian I. (1519), and to the sharp contest that ensued. The two strongest candidates were Charles I., King of Spain, who as son of Philip the Handsome (son of Maximilian), and of Joanna of Castile (daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella), was ruler of Spain, the Netherlands, Austria, and Naples, and Francis I., King of France. For centuries the Pope had striven to prevent the union of Naples and the Empire, and with good reason, for such a union must prove almost of necessity highly detrimental to the safety of the Papal States and the independence of the Holy See. For this reason, if for no other, Leo X. did not favour the candidature of Charles. Nor could he induce himself to display any enthusiasm for the cause of Francis I., whose intervention in Italian affairs the Pope had good grounds to dread. As against the two the Pope endeavoured to induce the princes to elect one of their own number, preferably the Elector of Saxony. But the Elector showed no anxiety to accept such a responsible office, and in the end Charles succeeded in winning over to his side the majority of the princes. He was elected and proclaimed Emperor under the title of Charles V. (1519).

While Rome remained inactive, and while the opponents of Luther in Germany were handicapped by the crude diplomacy of Miltitz, Luther was gaining ground with marvellous rapidity. His success was due partly to his own great personal gifts as a popular demagogue, and partly also to the fact that no man knew better than he how to make capital out of the ecclesiastical abuses of the time, and to win to his side all who had any reason to be discontented with the existing order. He was strengthened very much by the inactivity of the German bishops, who seemed unwilling to take any severe measures against him, by the help and encouragement of Frederick of Saxony, who, during the interregnum and for some time after the election of Charles V. was the real administrator of Germany, by his union with the leading Humanist scholars and professors, especially Erasmus, all of whom regarded Luther merely as the champion of liberty against the obscurantism of the Scholastics, and by his secret alliances with discontented nobles, such as Ulrich von Hutten and Franz von Sickingen, whose sole hope of improving their fortunes lay in the creation of public disorder.

Johann Eck, Luther's chief opponent, realising that there was no hope of stirring up the German authorities to take action, hastened to Rome to impress upon the Pope and his advisers the extreme gravity of the situation, and to urge them to proceed against the revolt with all possible energy and despatch. Luther himself recognised clearly enough that the crisis he had long foreseen was at hand, and he began to prepare men's minds for complete rupture with the Church by his sermon on excommunication in which he bade defiance to the ecclesiastical authorities. He threw himself with renewed energy into the fray, turning out volume after volume with feverish rapidity, each more violent and abusive than its predecessor, and nearly all couched in language that was as intelligible to the peasant as it was to the professor. In his /Address to the Nobles of Germany/, in his works /On the Mass/, /On the Improvement of Christian Morality/, and /On the Babylonian Captivity/, he proclaimed himself a political as well as a religious revolutionary. There was no longer any concealment or equivocation. The veil was lifted at last, and Luther stood forth to the world as the declared enemy of the Church and the Pope, the champion of the Bible as the sole rule of faith, and the defender of individual judgment as its only interpreter. In these works he rejected the Mass, Transubstantiation, vows of chastity, pilgrimages, fasts, the Sacraments, the powers of the priesthood, and the jurisdiction and supremacy of the Pope. With such a man there could be no longer any question of leniency or of compromise. The issues at stake, namely, whether the wild and impassioned assertions of a rebel monk should be accepted in preference to the teaching of Christ's Church, ought to have been apparent to every thinking man; and yet so blinded were some of his contemporaries by their sympathy with the Humanists as against the Theologians, that even still they forced themselves to believe Luther sought only for reform.

At Rome the trouble in Germany was one of the main subjects that engaged the attention of the Curia. It was felt that the time had come when decisive measures must be taken. After long and anxious deliberations Leo X. published the Bull, /Exsurge Domine/ (June 1520), in which forty propositions taken from Luther's writings were condemned, his works were ordered to be burned, the full penalties of excommunication were proclaimed against him unless he withdrew his errors and made his submission within sixty days, while his aiders and abettors were besought in the most touching terms to abandon the dangerous path into which they had been betrayed. Had such a pronouncement been issued at the beginning of the movement it might have done much to restore peace to the Church, but, coming as it did at a time when Luther's movement, backed by all the revolutionary forces of Germany, had already acquired considerable dimensions, it failed to put an end to the tumult. Besides, the papal decision was deprived of much of its force by the fact that Eck, Caraccioli, and Aleandro were appointed as a commission to superintend its execution. The appointment of Eck was a great tactical blunder, as it afforded Luther and his friends an opportunity of proclaiming that the sentence of excommunication was procured by the intrigues and misrepresentations of their personal enemies; while the fact that the German bishops were disregarded in the execution of the Bull as if they were not above suspicion themselves, was looked upon by many as a studied insult to the entire German hierarchy. Even though Luther had entertained any thoughts of submission, the triumph of Eck would have created very serious obstacles; but, knowing as he did, that even at the worst he could reckon upon the support of a certain number of the discontented nobles who had pledged themselves to put their swords at his disposal, he had no intention of making his submission.

The reception accorded to the papal document varied according to the views of the local authorities and the state of public feeling in the different cities and provinces. Thus, while its publication was welcomed in Cologne, Mainz, Halberstadt, and Freising, it was received with very mixed feelings at Leipzig and at Erfurt. Frederick of Saxony, to whom Leo X. had addressed a personal appeal, refused to abandon Luther's cause unless it were proved from the Scriptures that he was wrong. He did, indeed, suggest that Luther should write a respectful letter to the Pope, but his suggestion passed unheeded. At first Luther pretended that the Bull was a forgery brought forward by Eck to discredit him, but when this line of defence proved useless, he boldly attacked the papal pronouncement in his pamphlet, /Against the Bull of Anti-Christ/, in which he denounced Leo X. as a heretic and apostate, an enemy of the Holy Scriptures, a tyrant, and a calumniator. Lest, however, the courage of his supporters might be overcome by the terrors of excommunication, he issued an appeal from the sentence of the Pope to the judgment of a future General Council. Finally, on the 10th December, 1520, in the presence of an immense concourse of the citizens and students of Wittenberg, he burned publicly the papal Bull and the writings of his political opponents. On this occasion he proclaimed his intention of overthrowing the ecclesiastical organisation, and of introducing a new theological system. For the future it was to be war to the knife against the Pope and the Church, and he called upon German patriots and all true friends of personal liberty to take their stand by his side in the conflict that had been begun.

Charles V. was apparently in a very strong position. Not since the days of Charlemagne had any ruler claimed jurisdiction over so wide a territory as his, comprising, as it did, Germany and Austria, the kingdom of the two Sicilies, Spain, and the Netherlands. But in reality the very extent of his dominions made him much less powerful than he might have been as the sovereign of a smaller but more compact region. It served to awaken the suspicions of his subjects, who feared that he might abolish their distinctive national constitutions and weld his scattered territories into one great empire, and to excite the jealousy of the other rulers of Europe, who imagined that he might declare himself dictator of the western world. The German princes, having resisted successfully all the efforts made by his grandfather, Maximilian I., to convert the loose confederation of the German States into a united and centralised nation, were on their guard lest his successor should attempt a similar policy with the aid of Spanish troops and Spanish gold; the Spaniards resented the absence of the king from Spain, where many of the lower classes were in a state bordering on rebellion; Francis I. of France, trembling for the very existence of his country, was willing to do all things, even to agree to an alliance with the sons of Mohammed, if he could only lessen the influence of his powerful rival. The Turks under Soliman I. were determined to realise the dreams of their race by extending their territories from the Bosphorus to the Atlantic; while even the Pope had good reason to suspect that Charles V., unmindful of the example of his great namesake, might seek to become the master rather than the protector of the Church.[19]

On account of the troubles in Spain it was only late in the year 1520 that Charles V. could come to Germany to meet the electors, and to take over formally the administration of the Empire (23 Oct.). Less than two weeks had elapsed when the papal representative, Aleandro, himself a distinguished Humanist, sought an interview with the new ruler, and besought him to enforce the papal Bull against Luther with the full weight of his imperial authority. But the wavering attitude of many of the princes and the determined opposition of Frederick of Saxony made the Emperor hesitate to condemn Luther without giving him an opportunity for explanation and defence. The Diet was soon to open at Worms, and Charles V. issued an invitation to Luther to attend, guaranteeing at the same time his personal safety on the way to and from Worms and during his sojourn in the city.

The Diet met in January 1521, but despite the efforts of Aleandro the majority of the princes still failed to realise the gravity of the situation. Feeling against Rome was running very high in Germany at the time. Many of the princes insisted on presenting a document embodying the grievances of Germany (/Centum Gravamina/)[20] to the papal ambassador, while even such an orthodox supporter of the Church as Duke George of Saxony, brought forward very serious complaints against the clergy, accompanied by a demand that a General Council should be summoned to restore peace to the Church. Luther, strengthened by the safe conduct of the Emperor and by a secret understanding with some of the princes and knights, set out from Wittenberg for Worms, where he arrived in April 1521. On presenting himself before the Diet he was invited to state if he were really the author of the works published under his name, copies of which were presented to him, and, if so, was he willing to retract the doctrines contained in them. In reply to the former of these questions he admitted the authorship of the volumes, but asked for time to consider what answer he should make in regard to the latter. A day was allowed him for consideration. When he appeared again, all traces of the hesitation and nervousness that marked his attitude at the previous session had disappeared. He refused to retract his opinions, and made it clear that he no longer acknowledged the authority of the Pope or of General Councils as a safe guide in matters religious.

Thereupon the Emperor intimated to the princes that he was determined to take vigorous action against such a heretic and disturber of the public peace, though at the request of some of the princes he allowed time for private conferences between Luther and representative Catholic theologians, notably Eck and Cochlaeus.[21] These conferences having failed to produce any result the Emperor issued an order (25th April) commanding Luther to depart from Worms without delay, and forbidding him to preach to the people on his journey under pain of forfeiting his safe conduct. A month later Charles V. published a decree placing Luther under the ban of the Empire. He was denounced as a public heretic whom no one should receive or support; he was to be seized by any one who could do so, and delivered to the Emperor; his writings were to be burned, and all persons proved guilty of countenancing himself or his errors were liable to severe punishment. Many hoped that the decree might put an end to the confusion, but in reality Charles V. was powerless to enforce it, especially as the majority of the princes were unwilling to carry out its terms in their territories. Hence, outside the hereditary dominions of the House of Habsburg, the lands of Joachim I. of Brandenburg and of Duke George of Saxony, and in Bavaria, it remained a dead letter.

On the route from Worms Luther was taken prisoner by soldiers of the Elector, Frederick of Saxony, according to arrangements that had been made for his protection, and was brought to the castle at Wartburg where he remained for close on a year (May 1521-March 1522) under the assumed name of Yonker George, safe in spite of the imperial decrees. In the silence of his retreat at Wartburg Luther had an opportunity for reflection on the gravity of the situation that he had created. At times he trembled, as he thought of separating himself definitely from the great world-wide organisation which recognised the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Rome, and of setting up his own judgment against the faith that had been handed down for centuries, and that was supported by the ablest scholars from the days of Clement of Rome to those of St. Thomas and St. Bonaventure.

In his anxiety of mind he was the victim of hallucinations, believing that the spirit of evil appeared to him in visible form, and held commune with him in human speech. He was assailed, too, with violent temptations of the flesh, which reduced him to a state bordering on despair. But these moments of depression passed away, to be succeeded by fits of wild exultation in which he rejoiced at the storm that he had created already, and at the still greater storm he was soon to create. He set to work with tireless energy, believing himself to be inspired from on high as was the apostle, St. John, during his stay in the island of Patmos. At the instigation of his friends, who urged him to attack the celibacy of the monks and nuns, he turned his attention to this question, and issued a work /On Monastic Vows/, in which he declared that such vows of chastity, being opposed to the freedom of the Gospel, were sinful and should be neglected. In his book /On the Mass/ he assailed the Mass and the whole theory of the Christian priesthood, declaring that every believer was in a true sense a priest. He poured out a most violent torrent of abuse against Henry VIII. of England, who, in his /Defence of the Seven Sacraments/, had ventured to join issue with the German reformer. At the same time he undertook to prepare a translation of the New Testament as a means of advancing his propaganda. By aid of mis-translations and marginal notes he sought to popularise his views on Faith and Justification, and to win favour with the people by opening to them the word of God, which he asserted falsely had been closed against them for centuries.

All his pamphlets were couched in popular language and were exactly the kind of works likely to appeal to the masses of the people, as well as to the debased instincts of those who had entered into the religious state in response to the wishes of their parents or guardians rather than in obedience to the call of God. But while Luther thus catered for the multitude, Melanchthon sought to gain the support of the more educated classes by throwing Luther's teaching into scientific and systematic form in his work, /Loci Communes/ (1521), a book that remained for centuries the standard authority on Lutheran teaching.

It would be wrong to assume that Luther developed his theological system in its entirety before his separation from the Church. On the question of Justification and Free-will he had arrived at views distinctly opposed to Catholic doctrine, but his system as such took shape only gradually in response to the attacks of his opponents or the demands of his friends. On the one hand, imbued with the ideas of German Pantheistic mysticism, Luther started with the fixed principle that man's action is controlled by necessary laws, and that even after justification man is completely devoid of free will at least in religious matters. According to him, human nature became so essentially maimed and corrupted by the sin of Adam that every work which man can do is and must be sinful, because it proceeds in some way from concupiscence. Hence it is, he asserted, that good works are useless in acquiring justification, which can be obtained only by faith; and by faith he understood not the mere intellectual assent to revealed doctrines, but a practical confidence, resulting, no doubt, from this assent, that the merits of Christ will be applied to the soul. Through this faith the sinner seizes upon the righteousness of Christ, and by applying to himself the justice of his Saviour his sins are covered up. For this reason Luther explained that justification did not mean the actual forgiveness of sin by the infusion of some internal habit called sanctifying grace, but only the non-imputation of the guilt on account of the merits of Christ.

Since faith alone is necessary for justification it followed as a logical consequence that there was no place in Luther's system for the Sacraments, though in deference to old traditions he retained three Sacraments, Baptism, Penance, and the Eucharist. These, however, as he took care to explain, do not produce grace in the soul. They are mere outward pledges that the receiver has the faith without which he cannot be justified. Having in this way rejected the sacramental system and the sacrificial character of the Mass, it was only natural that he should disregard the priesthood, and proclaim that all believers were priests. In harmony with his theory on justification, and its dependence on faith, he denounced Purgatory, Prayers for the Dead, Indulgences, and Invocation of the Saints as being in themselves derogatory to the merits of Christ.

On the other hand, he laid it down as the leading principle that the Bible was the sole rule of faith, and that individual judgment was its only interpreter. Consequently he rejected the idea of a visible authority set up by Christ as an infallible guide in religious affairs. In this way he sought to undermine the authority of the Church, to depreciate the value of the decrees of the Popes and General Councils, and to re-assure his less daring followers by stripping ecclesiastical censures of more than half their terrors.[22]

The results of Luther's literary activity were soon apparent at Wittenberg and other centres in Germany. The Augustinians in Luther's own convent set aside their vows as worthless, and rejected the Mass. Carlstadt made common cause with the most radical element in the city, celebrated Mass on Christmas morning in the German language (1521), and administered Holy Communion to every one who came forward to receive, without any inquiry about their spiritual condition. Putting himself at the head of a body of students and roughs he went round the churches destroying the pictures, statues, confessionals, and altars. To increase the confusion a party of men at Zwickau led by a shoemaker, Nicholas Storch, and a preacher, Thomas Munzer, following the principle of private judgment advocated by Luther, insisted on faith as a condition for baptism and rejected infant baptism as worthless. They were called Anabaptists. They claimed to be special messengers from God, gifted with the power of working miracles, and favoured with visions from on high. In vain did Luther attack them as heretics, and exhort his lieutenants to suppress them as being more dangerous than the Papists. Carlstadt, unable to answer their arguments from Scripture, went over to their side, and even Melanchthon felt so shaken in his opposition that he appealed to Wartburg for guidance. The students at the university became so restless and turbulent that Duke George of Saxony began to take the prompt and decisive action necessary for dealing with such a dangerous situation. Luther, alarmed for the future of his work, abandoned his retreat at Wartburg (March 1522) and returned to Wittenberg, where he had recourse to stern measures to put an end to the confusion. He drove Carlstadt from the city, and even followed him to other places where he tried to find refuge, till at last, after a very disedifying scene between them in a public tavern, he forced him to flee from Saxony. Carlstadt's greatest offence in the eyes of his master was his preaching against the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, though Luther himself admitted that he should have liked to deny the Real Presence if only to annoy the Pope, were it not that the words of Scripture proved too strong. Carlstadt adopted a different interpretation, but Luther was not the man to tolerate individual judgment in the case of one of his own lieutenants. Carlstadt was denounced as a heretic and a blasphemer, for whom no punishment could be sufficiently severe. Munzer, too, was banished, and with the assistance of the Elector, Luther was enabled to overcome all his opponents.

Luther owed his success in the opening years of his campaign mainly to his ability in gauging the feelings of the different classes whose support he wished to obtain, as well as to his complete mastery of the German language. In appealing to the monks and nuns, who were longing to escape from the obligations they had contracted, he offered them complete liberty by denouncing their vows as opposed to the freedom of the Gospel and consequently sinful. Many of the monks and nuns abandoned their cloisters and fled to Wittenberg to seek the pleasures denied them hitherto, and to put in practice Luther's teaching on the necessity of marriage. Though he encouraged bishops and priests to marry, and though he forwarded his warmest congratulations to Carlstadt on his betrothal to a fifteen year old maiden (1522), Luther himself hesitated long before taking his final plunge; but at last, against the advice of his best friends, he took as his wife Catherine Bora, one of the escaped nuns who had sought refuge in Wittenberg. His marriage (1525) was a source of amusement to his opponents as it was of dismay to his supporters. Melanchthon complained bitterly of the step his master had taken, but he consoled himself with the thought that the marriage might out an end to his former frivolity, and might allay the suspicions that his conduct had aroused.[23] To the princes, the free cities, and the landless knights he appealed by holding out hopes that they might be enriched by a division of the ecclesiastical estates and of the goods of the monasteries and churches. With the overthrow of the Pope and of the bishops the princes were led to expect that they might themselves become spiritual dictators in their own dominions. To the friends of the Humanist movement and the great body of the professors and students he represented himself as the champion of learning and intellectual freedom, anxious to defend them against the obscurantism of the Scholastics and the interference of the Roman congregations.

A large number of the leading Humanists, believing that Luther had undertaken only a campaign against universally recognised abuses, were inclined at first to sympathise with his movement. The friendly attitude they adopted, and the influence employed by Erasmus and others on his behalf during the early years of his revolt contributed not a little to his final success. But as it became evident that his object was the overthrow of the Church and of doctrines accepted as dogmas of faith by the whole Christian world, his former allies fell away one by one. On the question of free-will Erasmus, who had long played a double role, found it necessary to take the field openly against him.[24] Luther's answer, full of personal abuse and invective, drew a sharp reply from Erasmus, and all friendly intercourse between them was broken off for ever.

But it was on the mass of the people, the peasants and the artisans, that Luther relied mainly for support, and it was to these he addressed his most forcible appeals. The peasants of Germany, ground down by heavy taxes and reduced to the position of slaves, were ready to listen to the revolutionary ideas put forward by leaders like Sickingen and von Hutten, and to respond to the call of Luther to rise against their princes whether they were secular or ecclesiastical. In the imagination of the peasants Luther appeared as the friend of human liberty, determined to deliver them from the intolerable yoke that had been laid upon them by their masters. His attacks were confined at first to the prince-bishops and abbots, but soon realising the strength of the weapon he wielded, he attacked the lay princes in the pamphlets entitled /Christian Liberty/ and /The Secular Magistracy/, and advocated the complete overthrow of all authority. It is true, undoubtedly, that many of the peasants were already enrolled in the secret societies, and that had there never been a Luther a popular rising might have been anticipated; but his doctrines on evangelical freedom and his frenzied onslaughts on the ecclesiastical and lay rulers, turned the movement into an anti-religious channel, and imparted to the struggle a uniformity and bitterness that otherwise it could never have acquired.

Risings of the peasantry took place in various parts of Germany, notably in Swabia, Thuringia, the Rhine Provinces, and Saxony (1524). Thomas Munzer, the leader of the Anabaptists, encouraged them in their fight for freedom. At first the attack was directed principally against the spiritual princes. Many monasteries and churches were plundered, and several of the nobles were put to death. Soon the lay princes of Germany, alarmed by the course of the revolutionaries and fearing for the safety of their own territories, assembled their forces and marched against the insurgents. The war was carried on mercilessly on both sides, close upon 100,000 peasants being killed in the field, while many of their leaders, amongst them Thomas Munzer, were arrested and condemned to death. In nearly every important engagement the peasants, as might be expected, suffered defeat, so that before the end of 1525 the movement was, practically speaking, at an end. Luther, who had been consulted by both sides, and who had tried to avoid committing himself to either, frightened by the very violence of the storm he had been instrumental in creating, issued an appeal to the princes calling upon them to show no mercy to the forces of disorder,[25] and even Melanchthon, gentle and moderate as he usually was, did not hesitate to declare that the peasants of Germany had more liberty than should be allowed to such a rude and uncultured people. The Peasants' War, disastrous as it was, did some good by opening men's eyes to the dangerous consequences of Luther's extravagant harangues, and by giving some slight indications as to the real character and methods of the man, who was posing as a heaven-sent reformer and at the same time as a champion of popular liberty.

But though Luther lost ground in many quarters owing to the part he played before and during the Peasants' War, he had no intention of abandoning the struggle in despair. During the early years of his campaign his mind was so engrossed with the overthrow of existing religious institutions, that he had little time to consider how he should rebuild what he had pulled down. At first he thought that no visible organisation was necessary, as the Church, according to his view, consisted of all those who had true faith and charity. But soon he abandoned this idea in favour of district or local churches that should be left completely independent. The disturbances in Germany during the Peasants' War taught him the hopelessness of such a scheme, and showed him that his only chance of permanent success lay in the organisation of state churches to be placed under the protection and authority of the civil rulers. By this bribe he hoped to conciliate the princes, whom he had antagonised by his attacks on their own body as well as by his attitude during the early stages of the disturbance. The Elector John of Saxony, who had succeeded his brother Frederick, hesitated at first to assist him in the momentous work of setting up a rival Christian organisation. But, at last, mindful of the advantages that would accrue to him from being recognised as supreme head of the Church in his own dominions, he gave a reluctant consent to the plans formulated by Luther.

A body of visitors consisting of clerics and lawyers was appointed to draw up a new ecclesiastical constitution, the most noteworthy feature of which was the complete dependence of the new church on the secular authority of each state. Episcopal jurisdiction was rejected, and in place of the bishops, superintendents were appointed. The ordinary administration was to be carried out by a synod of clerics and laymen elected by the various parishes, but, in reality, the right of appointment, of taxation, of apportioning the temporal goods, and of deciding legal difficulties passed under the control of the sovereign. Strange to say, though Luther insisted on individual judgment during his campaign against the Catholic Church, he had no difficulty in urging the civil rulers to force all their subjects to join the new religious body. The goods of the Catholic Church were to be appropriated, some of them being set aside for the support of the new religious organisation, while the greater portion of them found their way into the royal treasury. The Mass, shorn of the Elevation and of everything that would imply the idea of sacrifice, was translated into the German language, so that in all solemn religious services the place of the Sacrifice was taken by the hymns, Scriptural lessons, the sermon, and the Lord's Supper. Melanchthon wrote a Visitation Book (1527) for the guidance of Lutheran ministers, and Luther himself published two catechisms for the instruction of the children. The Lutheran church was organised on a similar plan in Hesse and Brandenburg and in many of the free cities such as Nurnberg, Magdeburg, Bremen, Frankfurt, Ulm, etc. By these measures the separation was completed definitely, and a certain amount of unity was ensured for the new religion.

Meanwhile, how fared it with the Emperor and the Pope? Shortly after the Diet of Nurnberg (1522) Charles V. left Germany for the Netherlands. Owing to the troubles in Spain and the long drawn out war with France he was unable to give any attention to the progress of affairs in Germany. The administration of the Empire was committed to three representatives, the ablest of whom was the Elector Frederick of Saxony, the friend and patron of Luther. The result was that Luther had a free hand to spread his views notwithstanding the decree of Worms.

Leo X. died in 1521 and was succeeded by Adrian VI. (1522-3), a former tutor of the Emperor. As a Hollander it might be anticipated that his representations to the German princes would prove more effective than those of his Italian predecessor, particularly as not even his worst enemies could discover anything worthy of reproach either in his principles or personal conduct. Convinced that Luther's only chance of winning support lay in his exaggerated denunciations of real or imaginary abuses, he determined to bring about a complete reform, first in Rome itself and then throughout the entire Christian world. Owing to his ill-disguised contempt for all that was dear to the heart of the Humanist Leo X., and to the severe measures taken by him to reduce expenses at the Roman Court, he encountered great opposition in Rome, and incurred the dislike both of officials and people.

When he learned that a Diet was to be held at Nurnberg (1522) to consider plans for the defence of the Empire against the Turks who had conquered Belgrade, he despatched Chieregati as his nuncio to invite the princes to enforce the decree of Worms, and to restore peace to the Church by putting down the Lutheran movement. In his letters to individual members of the Diet and in his instructions to the nuncio, which were read publicly to the assembled representatives, Adrian VI. admitted the existence of grave abuses both in Rome itself and in nearly every part of the church.[26] He promised, however, to do everything that in him lay to bring about a complete and thorough reform.

These admissions served only to strengthen the hands of Luther and his supporters, who pointed to them as a justification for the whole movement, and to provide the princes with a plausible explanation of their inactivity in giving effect to the decree of Worms. The princes refused to carry out the decree of Worms, alleging as an excuse the danger of popular commotion. They brought forward once more the grievances of the German nation against Rome (/Centum Gravamina/), insisted on a General Council being called to restore peace to the Church, and held out a vague hope that an effort would be made to prevent the spread of the new doctrine till the Council should be convoked.

The papal nuncio, dissatisfied with the attitude of the representatives, withdrew from the Diet before the formal reply was delivered to him. Adrian VI., cognisant of the failure of his efforts and wearied by the opposition of the Romans to whom his reforms were displeasing, made a last fruitless effort to win over Frederick of Saxony to his side. The news that the island of Rhodes, for the defence of which he had laboured and prayed so strenuously, had fallen into the hands of the Turks, served to complete his affliction and to bring him to a premature grave. He died in September 1523 to the great delight of the Romans, who could barely conceal their rejoicing even when he lay on his bed of death. He was an excellent Pope, though perhaps not sufficiently circumspect for the critical times in which he lived. Had he been elected a century earlier, and had he been given an opportunity of carrying out reforms, as had been given to some of his predecessors, the Lutheran movement would have been an impossibility.

He was succeeded by Clement VII. (1523-34). The new Pope was a relative of Leo X., and, like him, a patron of literature and art. He was a man of blameless life and liberal views, and endowed with great prudence and tact, but his excessive caution and want of firmness led to the ruin of his best-conceived plans and to the failure of his general policy. He despatched Cardinal Campeggio as his legate to the Diet of Nurnberg (1524). Once again the princes of Germany closed their ears to the appeal of the Pope, refused to take energetic measures to enforce the decree of Worms, and talked of establishing a commission to consider the grievances of their nation against Rome, and to inquire into the religious issues that had been raised. Campeggio, feeling that it was hopeless to expect assistance from the Diet, turned to the individual princes. He succeeded in bringing about an alliance at Ratisbon (1524) between the rulers of Austria, Bavaria, and several of the ecclesiastical princes of Southern Germany for the purpose of opposing the new teaching and safeguarding the interests of the Catholic Church. A similar alliance of the Catholic princes of Northern Germany was concluded at Dessau in 1526. At the same time the princes who were favourable to Lutheran views, notably Philip of Hesse, John, Elector of Saxony, the rulers of Brandenburg, Prussia, Mecklenburg and Mansfeld, together with the representatives of the cities of Brunswick and Mecklenburg, met and pledged themselves to make common cause, were any attempt made by the Emperor or the Catholic princes to suppress Luther's doctrine by force. In this way Germany was being divided gradually into two hostile camps.

Unfortunately Charles V., whose presence in Germany might have exercised a restraining influence, was so engrossed in the life and death struggle with France that he had no time to follow the progress of the religious revolt. To complicate the issue still more, Clement VII., who had been friendly to the Emperor for some time after his election, alarmed lest the freedom of the Papal States and of the Holy See might be endangered were the French driven completely from the peninsula, took sides openly against Charles V. and formed an alliance with his opponent. The good fortune that had smiled on the French arms suddenly deserted them. In 1525 Francis I. was defeated at Pavia and taken as prisoner to Spain, where he was forced to accept the terms dictated to him by his victorious rival. On his release in 1526 he refused to abide by the terms of the Treaty, and a new alliance, consisting of the Pope, France, England, Venice, Florence, Milan, and Switzerland was formed against Charles V. Disturbances, fomented by the Italian supporters of the Emperor, broke out in the Papal States, and a German army led by the Prince of Bourbon marched on Rome without the knowledge of Charles, captured the city, plundered its treasures, and for several days wreaked a terrible vengeance on the citizens. Charles, who was in Spain at the time, was deeply grieved when the news was brought to him of the havoc that had been wrought by his subordinates. A temporary peace was concluded immediately between the Emperor and the Pope, and the peace of Barcelona in 1529 put an end to this unholy strife. About the same time the hostilities between Charles and Francis I. were brought to a conclusion by the Peace of Cambrai, and the Emperor, having been crowned by the Pope at Bologna (1530), was free at last to turn his attention to the religious revolution in Germany.[27]

During the struggle between Charles V. and the Pope the Lutheran princes had a free hand to do as they pleased, and, indeed, at one time they were not without hope that Charles might be induced to place himself at their head. Besides, owing to the fact that the Turks were advancing on Hungary and were likely to overrun the hereditary dominions of the House of Habsburg, they felt confident that no attempt could be made to suppress Lutheranism by force. At the Diet of Speier, in 1526, John Duke of Saxony, and Philip of Hesse adopted so violent and unconciliatory an attitude that Germany was on the brink of civil war, had not the Archduke Ferdinand, alarmed by the success of the Turks, used all his powers to prevent a division. It was agreed that both sides should unite against the Turks, that a Council should be called within a year to discuss the religious difficulties, and that in the meantime individual rulers were free to enforce or disregard the decree of Worms as they wished.

These concessions, wrung from the Catholic princes owing to the fear of Turkish invasion, did not satisfy either party. False rumours were spread among the Protestant princes that Duke George of Saxony and other Catholic rulers intended to have recourse to arms, and though the Duke was able to clear himself of the charge, the relations between the two parties became gradually more strained. In 1526 the Turks overcame the Hungarians and Bohemians at Mohacz, and advancing into Austria were encamped under the very walls of Vienna. It became necessary to summon another Diet at Speier (1529). The Catholic princes were in the majority, and the knowledge, that the Emperor had concluded peace with France and the Pope and was now ready to support them, rendered them less willing to accept dictation. It was carried by a majority that the Emperor should endeavour to have a Council convoked within a year, that in the meantime the rulers in whose territories the decree of Worms had been in force should continue to enforce it, and that in the states where the new teaching had taken root the rulers were at liberty to allow it to continue, but, in the interval before the Council they should permit no further changes to be introduced. Nobody should be allowed to preach against the Sacrament of the Altar; the Mass should be celebrated if it had not been abolished, and if abolished no one should be punished for celebrating or attending it, and the Scripture should be expounded according to the traditional interpretation of the Church.

The Lutheran party objected strongly to this decree, and as their objections were over-ruled they submitted a formal protest, on account of which they received the distinctive title of Protestants.[28] The protest, signed by the Elector of Saxony, the Margrave of Brandenburg, the Dukes of Brunswick-Luneburg, Philip of Hesse, and the representatives of fourteen cities, having failed to produce any effect on the Diet, a deputation was appointed to interview the Emperor and to place their grievances before him. But Charles V., mindful of his imperial oath, refused to allow himself to be intimidated. He warned the deputation that he and the Catholic princes had also their duties to fulfil towards God and the Church, and that until a Council should assemble they must obey the decrees of the Diet. In January 1530 he convened a new Diet to meet at Augsburg at which he himself promised to be present.

The Diet was convened to meet at Augsburg in April 1530, but it was the middle of June before the Emperor, accompanied by the papal legate, made his formal entrance into the city. On the following day the feast of Corpus Christi was celebrated with the customary solemnities, and the Emperor was pained deeply when he learned that the Protestant princes refused to be present or to take any part in the function. At the opening of the Diet it was agreed that the religious question should take precedence, and the Protestant princes were invited to make a clear statement of their doctrines and demands. Luther himself could not be present on account of the decree of Worms, and hence the duty of preparing a complete exposition of the Protestant doctrine devolved upon the ablest of his lieutenants, Philip Melanchthon. He drew up and presented to the Diet the document known as the /Augsburg Confession/ (/Confessio Augustana/), accepted by Luther himself as a masterly though perhaps too moderate statement of the new teaching. The Confession was divided into two parts, the former of which consisted of twenty-one articles or dogmas of faith received by himself and his friends; the latter dwelt with what he termed abuses which they rejected, notable amongst these being celibacy of the clergy, monastic vows, auricular confession, private masses, communion under one kind, abstinence, and episcopal government. The Confession was drawn up very skilfully, great prominence being given to the doctrines on which all Christians were agreed, while the distinctive tenets of the Protestant reformers were put forward in their mildest and least offensive form. The document was read to the Diet in German by Bayer, Chancellor of the Elector of Saxony, and undoubtedly it produced a marked impression on the assembly. The Emperor held a conference with the Catholic princes, some of whom advocated prompt recourse to the sternest measures. Others, however, amongst them being several of the ecclesiastical princes, misled by the temperate and, in a certain sense, misleading character of Melanchthon's statement, and believing that a peaceful solution to the religious difficulty was still possible, urged Charles V. to abstain from decisive action. It was agreed that the work of examining and refuting the Augsburg Confession should be entrusted to a certain number of Catholic theologians, the most prominent of whom were Eck, Cochlaeus, and Conrad Wimpina.[29] Unfortunately these men allowed their natural feelings of irritation to overcome their judgment, and not content with a calm and judicial refutation of the document submitted to them, they attacked warmly the exaggerations, contradictions, and misrepresentations of Catholic doctrine of which Luther had been guilty, and succeeded in imparting to their reply a bitter and ironical tone more likely to widen than to heal the division. At the request of the Emperor they modified it very considerably, confining themselves entirely to a brief and dispassionate examination of the individual points raised by Melanchthon, and in its modified form their refutation (/Confutatio Confessionis Augustanae/) was presented to the Diet (3rd Aug.).

When the reply of the Catholic theologians had been read the Emperor called upon the Protestant princes to return to the unity of the Church; but his appeal fell upon deaf ears, and it seemed as if the issue were to be decided immediately by civil war. By way of compromise it was suggested that representatives of both parties should meet in conference, Eck, Cochlaeus, and Wimpina being selected as the Catholic theologians, Melanchthon, Brenz, and Schnep as the champions of Lutheranism. From the very outset it should have been evident to all that, where disagreement was so fundamental, one party maintaining the theory of an infallible Church as the only safe guide in religious matters, the other rejecting entirely the authority of the Church and the Pope in favour of individual judgment, the discussion of particular dogmas could never lead to unity. As a matter of fact Melanchthon was willing to make most important concessions, and on the question of original sin, free-will, justification, faith, penance, and the intercession of the saints, formulas were put forward not displeasing to either party. Even in regard to the Eucharist, the jurisdiction of the bishops, and the supremacy of Rome, Melanchthon was inclined to go far to meet his opponents, much to the disgust of the extremists of his own party and to the no small alarm of Luther.[30] But in reality the apparent harmony existed only on paper, and the concessions made by Melanchthon depended entirely on the meaning that should be placed on the ambiguous phraseology and qualifications with which they were clothed. On the question of the Mass, the celibacy of the clergy, and the meritorious character of good works, no agreement was arrived at, as Melanchthon, alarmed by the opposition of his own supporters and the reproofs of Luther, was unwilling to modify his position. What the conference of theologians had failed to do was undertaken by a mixed commission consisting of princes, theologians, and lawyers, but without any result. In September the Emperor announced that he was endeavouring to procure the convocation of a General Council and that in the meantime the Protestants should return to the old faith, a certain time being allowed them for consideration, that they should attempt no further innovations or interference with the followers of the old faith, that they should restore the ecclesiastical goods which had been seized, and that they should unite with the Catholics in opposing the Anabaptists and the Sacramentarians.

The Protestant princes refused to submit on the ground that their doctrines were in harmony with the Word of God, and to justify this contention Melanchthon published the /Apologia Confessionis Augustanae/, which was in many points more full and explicit than the Confession itself. Some of the German cities that had embraced the Zwinglian doctrine, notably, Strassburg and Constance, repudiated the Augsburg Confession, and presented a document embodying their beliefs, known as the /Confessio Tetrapolitana/ which found no favour with Charles V. or with the Diet. Finally, on the 18th November, the Emperor announced to the Diet that until a General Council should meet, everything must be restored to the /status quo/, that he felt it incumbent upon him as protector of the Church to defend the Catholic faith with all his might, and that in this work he could count on the full support of the Catholic princes. Unfortunately, it was by no means correct to state that the Catholic rulers of Germany stood behind their Emperor. Nearly all of them were anxious to avoid civil war at any cost, and not a few of them hesitated to support the Emperor lest the suppression of the Protestant princes might lead to the establishment of a strong central power. Nor were the Protestants alarmed by the threat of force. With the Turks hovering on the flanks of the empire, they were confident that they might expect concessions rather than violence.

The Protestant princes met in December (1530) at Schmalkald to consider their position, and early in the following year (1531) they formed the Schmalkaldic League for the defence of their religious and temporal interests. Negotiations were opened up with France, Denmark, and England, and notification was made to the Emperor that they must withhold their assistance against the Turks until their religious beliefs were secured. They refused, furthermore, to recognise Ferdinand, brother of Charles V., whom Charles had proclaimed King of the Romans. The Emperor, alarmed by the news that Soliman was preparing an immense army for a general attack on Italy and Austria, and well aware that he could not count either on the assistance of the Catholic princes or the neutrality of France, was forced to give way. In July 1532 peace was concluded at Nurnberg. According to the terms of the Peace of Nurnberg it was agreed that until a General Council should assemble no action should be taken against the Protestant princes, and that in the interval everything was to remain unchanged. This agreement, it was stipulated, should apply only to those who accepted the Confession of Augsburg, a stipulation that was meant to exclude the followers of Zwingli.

Charles V. was really anxious that a Council should be called, nor was Clement VII. unwilling to meet his wishes, if only he could have been certain that a Council constituted as such assemblies had been constituted traditionally, could serve any useful purpose. Time and again Luther had expressed his supreme contempt for the authority of General Councils, though he professed to be not unwilling to submit the matters in dispute to a body of men selected by the civil rulers. In 1532-3 Pope and Emperor met at Bologna to discuss the situation, and messengers were despatched to see on what terms the Protestants would consent to attend the Council. The members of the Schmalkaldic League refused (1533) to accept the conditions proposed by the Pope, namely, that the Council should be constituted according to the plan hitherto followed in regard to such assemblies, and that all should pledge themselves beforehand to accept its decrees.[31]

Clement VII. died in September (1534) and was succeeded by Paul III. (1534-49). He convoked a General Council to meet at Mantua in 1537, but the League refused once more to attend (1535). Even had there been no other difficulties in the way, the war that broke out with renewed bitterness between Charles V. and Francis I. would have made it impossible for such a body to meet with any hope of success. The helpless condition of the Emperor, confronted, as he was, on the one side by the French and on the other by the Turks, raised the hopes of the Protestant party, and made them more determined than ever to attend no Council in which the authority of the bishops or the jurisdiction of the Pope should be recognised. Moreover, each year brought new accessions to their ranks. The appearance of organised Christian bodies, completely national in character, accepting the civil rulers as their head, and conceding to them full power to deal as they liked with ecclesiastical property, created a deep impression on several princes and free cities, and made them not averse to giving the new religion a fair trial. In 1530, the Elector of Saxony, Philip of Hesse and the rulers of Ansbach, Anhalt, Brunswick-Luneburg, Bayreuth, East Friesland, and a few of the larger cities had gone over to Luther. Before ten years had elapsed the greater part of Northern Germany had fallen from the Catholic Church, and even in Southern Germany Protestantism had made serious inroads. Several of the more important cities such as Wittenberg, Strassburg, Nurnberg, Magdeburg, Frankfurt-on-Main, Hamburg, and Erfurt became leading centres for the spread of the new teaching, while many of the German universities, for example, Erfurt, Basle, Frankfurt, Rostock, and Marburg supported strongly the efforts of Luther.

The Catholic princes, alarmed by the rapid spread of the new doctrines and by the extravagant demands of the Protestants, met together to form the Holy League (1538) as a defence against the Schmalkaldic confederation. Feeling was running so high at the time that the long expected war might have broken out immediately, had not the dread of a Turkish invasion exercised a restraining influence on both parties. In 1539 negotiations were opened up for a temporary armistice, and another fruitless attempt was made to arrive at peace by means of a religious conference. Before any result had been attained the Emperor summoned a Diet to meet at Ratisbon (April 1541). Three theologians were appointed from both sides to discuss the questions at issue. Though some of the Catholic representatives showed clearly enough that their desire for union was much greater than their knowledge of Catholic principles, an understanding was arrived at only in regard to a few points of difference. By the Recess of the Diet (known as the /Ratisbon Interim/) it was ordered that both parties should observe the articles of faith on which they had agreed until a General Council should meet, that in the interval the terms of the Peace of Nurnberg should be carried out strictly, that the religious houses that had escaped destruction hitherto should remain undisturbed, and that the disciplinary decrees promulgated by the cardinal legate (Contarini) should be obeyed by the Catholics.

The Protestant princes were still dissatisfied. In order to procure their assistance Charles was obliged to yield to further demands, notably, to permit them to suppress the monasteries in their dominions. But, fortunately for the Catholic Church, the agreement embodied in the /Ratisbon Interim/ was rejected by the more extreme Protestant Party led by Luther himself, and the danger of grave misunderstanding was removed.

During the following years the Lutheran movement continued to advance by leaps and bounds. Duke George of Saxony, one of its strongest opponents, died in 1539, and his successor invited the Lutheran preachers to assist him in the work of reform. Henry, Duke of Brunswick, was driven from his kingdom by the League of Schmalkald and forced to seek refuge in Bavaria. The Bishoprics of Hildesheim and Naumburg were captured by force, and it required all the efforts of the Pope and of the Emperor to prevent Cologne from being handed over to Luther's followers by its prince-bishop (Hermann von Wied). Lutheranism provided almost irresistible attractions for the lay rulers, who desired to acquire wealth and power at the expense of the Church, as well as for the unworthy ecclesiastical princes who were anxious to convert the states of which they were merely administrators into hereditary dominions.

But though outwardly the movement prospered beyond expectation all was far from well within. The fundamental principle enunciated by Luther, namely, the rejection of all religious authority, opened the way for new theories and new sects. Quite apart from the controversies between the followers of Luther and Zwingli, which shall be dealt with later, the Anabaptists and others continued to destroy the harmony of the self-styled reformers. The Anabaptists seized the city of Munster, proclaimed a democratic theocracy with John of Leyden, a tailor, at its head, and pronounced their intention of taking the field for the overthrow of tyrants and impostors. But their success was short-lived. Conrad, bishop and prince of Munster, raised an army, laid siege to the city which he captured after a desperate struggle, and put to death the fanatical leaders who had deceived the people (1535-6). Other writers and preachers questioned the doctrines of the Trinity and Incarnation, and advocated many heresies condemned by the early Church, some of them going so far as to insist on the revival of circumcision and the Jewish ceremonial law.[32]

Nor did the new teaching exercise an elevating influence on the morals or conduct of its adherents. Luther himself was forced to admit that the condition of affairs had grown worse even than it had been before he undertook his campaign. "Since we have commenced to preach our doctrine," he said in one of his sermons, "the world has grown daily worse, more impious, and more shameless. Men are now beset by legions of devils, and while enjoying the full light of the Gospel are more avaricious, more impure, and repulsive than of old under the Papacy. Peasants, burghers, nobles, men of all degrees, the higher as well as the lowest are all alike slaves to avarice, drunkenness, gluttony, and impurity, and given over to horrible excesses of abominable passions."[33]

The princes, free from all religious and ecclesiastical restraints, set an example of licentiousness which their subjects were not slow to imitate. Philip of Hesse was the life and soul of the Lutheran movement. He was married already to Christina, daughter of Duke George of Saxony, by whom eight children had been born to him, but finding it impossible to observe his marriage obligations, and wishing to impart to his own sinful conduct an air of decency, he demanded permission from Luther to marry one of the maids of honour in attendance on his sister. This request placed Luther and Melanchthon in a very delicate position. On the one hand, if they acceded to it they would be regarded as patrons and defenders of adultery and would expose themselves to the ridicule of their opponents; on the other, were they to refuse compliance with his wishes, Philip, forgetful of his former zeal for the pure word of God, might carry out his threats to return to the Catholic Church. After long and anxious deliberation they determined to exercise a dispensing power such as had never been exercised before by any Pope. "In order to provide for the welfare of his soul and body and to bring greater glory to God," they allowed him to take to himself a second wife, insisting, however, that the whole affair should be kept a close secret. But hardly had the marriage ceremony been gone through (1540) than the story of the dispensation became public. Luther was at first inclined to deny it entirely as an invention of his enemies, but he changed his mind when he found that the proofs were irrefragable and determined to brazen out the affair.[34]

Luther's last years were full of anxiety and sorrow. As he looked round his own city of Wittenberg and the cities of Germany where his doctrines had taken root he found little ground for self- congratulation. Religious dissensions, bitterness, war-like preparations, decline of learning, decay of the universities, and immorality, had marked the progress of his gospel. In many districts the power of the Pope had indeed been broken, but only to make way for the authority of the civil rulers upon whom neither religious nor disciplinary canons could exercise any restraint; the monasteries and religious institutions had been suppressed, but their wealth had passed into the treasuries of the princes, whilst the poor for whose benefit it had been held in trust were neglected, and the ministers of religion were obliged to have recourse to different occupations to secure a livelihood. To his followers and his most intimate associates he denied the liberty of thought and speech that he claimed for himself, by insisting on the unconditional acceptance of his doctrines as if in him alone were vested supreme authority and infallibility. For exercising their right to private judgment, Carlstadt was pursued from pulpit to pulpit till at last he was forced to seek safety in flight; Zwingli was denounced as a heretic for whose salvation it was useless to pray; the Anabaptists were declared to be unworthy of any better fate than the sword or the halter; Agricola, his most zealous fellow-labourer, was banished from his presence and his writings were interdicted; and even Melanchthon was at last driven to complain of the state of slavery to which he had been reduced.[35]

His failing health and his disappointments served to sour his temper and to render him less approachable. The attacks that he directed against the Papacy such as /The Papacy an Institution of the Devil/, and the verses prepared for the vulgar caricatures that he induced Cranach to design (1545) surpassed even his former productions in violence and abusiveness. Tired of attacking the Papacy, he turned his attention once more to the Jews, upon whom he invoked the vengeance of Heaven in the last sermon that he was destined to preach on earth. He was taken suddenly ill in Eisleben, where he had come to settle some disputes between the Counts of Mansfeld, and on the 18th February 1546, he passed away.[36]

Luther is a man whose character it is difficult to appreciate exactly. At times he spoke and wrote as if he were endowed with a deeply religious feeling, convinced of the truth of his doctrines, and anxious only for the success of the work for which he professed to believe he had been raised up by God. Some of his sermons sounded like a trumpet call from Heaven, warning the people that the hour for repentance had drawn nigh, while his conversations with his intimate friends breathed at times a spirit of piety and fervour redolent of the apostolic age. This, however, was only one feature of Luther's character, and, unfortunately, it was a feature that manifested itself only too rarely. As a general rule his writings, his sermons and speeches, and, in a word, his whole line of conduct were in direct opposition to everything that is associated generally in the popular mind with the true religious reformer. His replies to his opponents, even to those who, avoiding personalities, addressed themselves directly to his doctrines, were couched in the most violent and abusive language. His wild onslaughts and his demands for vengeance on any one who ventured to question his teaching, whether they were Catholics, Zwinglians, Sacramentarians or Anabaptists, were the very antithesis of the spirit of charity and meekness that should characterise a follower, not to say an apostle, of Christ. Nor were his over-weening pride and self-confidence in keeping with the spirit of meekness and humility inculcated so frequently in the writings of the New Testament.

In his letters, and more especially in his familiar intercourse with his friends,[37] his conversation was frequently risky and indecent; his relations with women, at least before his marriage with Catherine Bora, were, to put it mildly, not above suspicion, as is evident from his own letters and the letters of his most devoted supporters; while his references to marriage and vows of chastity in his sermons and pamphlets were filthy and unpardonable even in an age when people were much more outspoken on such subjects than they are at present. Though he insisted strongly on the necessity of preaching the pure Word of God, he had little difficulty in having recourse to falsehood when truth did not serve his purpose, or in justifying his conduct by advocating the principle that not all lies were sinful particularly if they helped to damage the Roman Church. His frequent and enthusiastic references to the pleasures of the table were more like what one should expect to find in the writings of a Pagan epicure than in those of a Christian reformer. He was not, as is sometimes asserted, a habitual drunkard. His tireless activity as a writer and preacher is in itself a sufficient refutation of such a charge, but he was convinced that a hard drinking bout was at times good for both soul and body, and in this respect at least he certainly lived up to his convictions.[38]

It would be a mistake to judge him by his Latin writings, which, both in manner and style, seldom rise above the level of mediocrity. It is in his German books and pamphlets that Luther is seen at his best. There, he appears as a man of great ability and learning, gifted with a prodigious memory, a striking literary style, and a happy knack of seizing upon the weak points of his adversaries and of presenting his own side of the case in its most forcible and attractive form. No man knew better than he how to adapt himself to the tastes of his audience or the prejudices of his readers. He could play the role of the judge or the professor almost as well as that of the impassioned fanatic convinced that behind him were arrayed all the powers of Heaven. In dealing with men of education, who were not likely to be captivated by rhetoric, he could be calm and argumentative; but when he addressed himself to the masses of the people he appeared in his true character as a popular demagogue, hesitating at nothing that was likely to arouse their indignation against the Roman Church and their enthusiasm for the movement to which he had devoted his life. In words of fiery eloquence he recalled to their minds the real and imaginary grievances of their nation against Rome, the over-weening pride and tyranny of the spiritual princes, the scandalous lives of many of the ecclesiastics, and the failure of the Pope and councils to carry through a scheme of wholesale reform. He called upon them to throw off the yoke imposed by foreigners on their fathers and themselves, and to support him in his struggle for the liberty of the people, the independence of the German nation, and the original purity of the Gospel, promising them that if only they would range themselves under his banner, all their grievances, both spiritual and temporal, must soon be redressed. Had Luther never appeared, or had he been less gifted as an orator, a writer and a popular leader than he was, a crisis must have arisen at the time; but his genius and enthusiasm turned what might have been a trickling stream into a raging torrent, threatening destruction to beliefs and institutions hitherto regarded as inviolable. The time was ripe for a reformer, and Luther's only claim to greatness was his capacity of utilising in a masterly way the materials, political and religious, that lay ready at his hand. Religious abuses, social unrest, politics, personal vanities, and the excesses always attendant upon a great literary revival, were pressed into his service, and were directed against the Roman Church. And yet his success fell far short of his expectations. Beyond doubt he contrived to detach individuals and kingdoms from their obedience to the Pope and their submission to ecclesiastical authority only to subject them to the spiritual yoke of secular princes, and to expose them to doctrinal anarchy subversive of dogmatic religion; but the Catholic Church and the See of Rome, for the overthrow of which he had laboured so energetically, emerged triumphant from the terrible trial that had been permitted by God only for its purification.

During the period that intervened between the /Ratisbon Interim/ and the death of Luther (1541-6) Charles V., hard pressed by the war with France and the unsuccessful expeditions against the Barbary pirates, was obliged to yield to the increasing demands of the Protestant princes; nor could Paul III., however much he desired it, realise his intention of convoking a General Council. But at last the Peace of Crepy (1544) which put an end to the war with France, and the convocation of a General Council to meet at Trent in March 1545, strengthened the hands of the Emperor, and enabled him to deal effectively with the religious revolution. The Protestant princes announced their determination to take no part in a Council convoked and presided over by the Pope. Charles left no stone unturned to induce them to adopt a more conciliatory attitude, but all his efforts having proved unavailing, he let it be known publicly that he would not allow himself to be intimidated by threats of violence, and that if need be he would insist on obedience at the point of the sword. John Frederick of Saxony and Philip of Hesse, alarmed by the threatening aspect of affairs, determined to anticipate the Emperor, and took the field at the head of an army of forty thousand men (1546).

Charles V., relying upon the aid of the Pope and the co-operation of the Catholic princes, issued a proclamation calling upon all loyal subjects to treat them as rebels and outlaws. Maurice of Saxony deserted his co-religionists on promise of succeeding to the Electorship, joined the standard of Charles V., and in conjunction with Ferdinand directed his forces against Saxony. The Elector was defeated and captured at Muhlberg (April 1547). He was condemned to death as a traitor, but he was reprieved and detained as a prisoner in the suite of the Emperor, while his nephew, Maurice of Saxony, succeeded to his dominions. Philip of Hesse, too, was obliged to surrender, and Charles V. found himself everywhere victorious. He insisted on the restoration of the Bishop of Naumburg and of Henry of Brunswick to his kingdom as well as on the resignation of Hermann Prince von Wied, Archbishop of Cologne. He was unwilling, however, to proceed to extremes with the Protestant princes, well knowing that he could not rely on some of his own supporters. Besides, he had become involved in serious difficulties with Pope Paul III., who complained, and not without reason, of the demands made upon him by the Emperor, and of the concessions that the Emperor was willing to make to the Lutherans.

Charles V. summoned a Diet to meet at Augsburg (1547), where he hoped that a permanent understanding might be secured. A document known as the /Augsburg Interim/, prepared by Catholic theologians in conjunction with the Lutheran, John Agricola, was accepted provisionally by both parties. The doctrines were expressed in a very mild form, though not, however, altogether unacceptable to Catholics. Protestants were permitted to receive communion under both kinds; their married clergy were allowed to retain their wives; and it was understood tacitly that they might keep possession of the ecclesiastical property they had seized. The /Augsburg Interim/, as might have been anticipated, was displeasing to both parties. Maurice of Saxony, unwilling to give it unconditional approval, consulted Melanchthon and others of his school as to how far he might accept its terms. In their reply they distinguished between matters that were essential and those that were only of secondary importance. The latter might be accepted unreservedly in obedience to the orders of the Emperor. In regard to doctrines, they were willing to compromise on the question of justification and good-works, to accept the sacraments, including confirmation and Extreme Unction, the Mass with the addition of some German hymns, and in a certain sense the jurisdiction of the bishops. Such concessions were a distinct departure from Luther's teaching and would have been impossible had he been alive.

The relations between the Pope and the Emperor took a more friendly turn when the General Council was transferred from Bologna to Trent (1551). The Protestant princes, invited to send representatives, declined at first, but in a short time several of them agreed to accept the invitation. Safe conducts were issued for their representatives by the Council in 1551 and again in 1552. Even the Wittenberg theologians were not unfavourably disposed, and Melanchthon was actually on his way to Trent. But suddenly Maurice of Saxony, who had assembled a large army under pretext of reducing Magdeburg, and had strengthened himself by an alliance with several princes as well as by a secret treaty with Henry II. of France, deserted the Emperor and placed himself at the head of the Protestant forces. When all his plans were completed he advanced suddenly through Thuringia, took Augsburg, and was within an inch of capturing the Emperor who then lay ill at Innsbruck (1552). At the same time the French forces occupied Lorraine. Charles, finding himself unable to carry on the struggle, opened negotiations for peace, and in 1552 the Treaty of Passau was concluded. Philip of Hesse was to be set at liberty; a Diet was to be called within six months to settle the religious differences; in the meantime neither the Emperor nor the princes should interfere with freedom of conscience; and all disputes that might arise were to be referred to a commission consisting of an equal number of Protestant and Catholic members.

Owing to the war with France it was not until the year 1555 that the proposed Diet met at Augsburg. The Protestant party, encouraged by their victories, were in no humour for compromise, and as it was evident that there was no longer any hope of healing the religious division in the Empire, it was agreed that peace could be secured only by mutual toleration. In September 1555 the Peace of Augsburg was concluded. According to the terms of this convention full freedom of conscience was conceded in the Empire to Catholics and to all Protestants who accepted the Augsburg Confession. The latter were permitted to retain the ecclesiastical goods which they had already acquired before the Treaty of Passau (1552). For the future each prince was to be free to determine the religion of his subjects, but in case a subject was not content with the religion imposed on him by his sovereign he could claim the right to migrate into a more friendly territory.

A great difficulty arose in regard to the disposal of the ecclesiastical property in case a Catholic bishop or abbot should apostatise. Notwithstanding the protests of the Protestant party, it was decreed that if such an event should occur the seceder could claim his own personal property, but not the property attached to his office. This clause, known as the /Ecclesiasticum Reservatum/, gave rise to many disputes, and was one of the principal causes of the Thirty Years' War.

By the /Peace of Augsburg/ Protestantism was recognised as a distinct and separate form of Christianity, and the first blow was struck at the fundamental principles on which the Holy Roman Empire had been built. Charles V. was blamed at the time, and has been blamed since for having given his consent to such a treaty, but if all the circumstances of the time be duly considered it is difficult to see how he could have acted otherwise than he did. It is not the Emperor who should be held accountable for the unfavourable character of the Augsburg Peace, but "the most Catholic King of France" who allied himself with the forces of German Protestantism, and the Catholic princes who were more anxious to secure their own position than to fight for their sovereign or their religion. Charles V., broken down in health and wearied by his misfortunes and his failure to put down the religious revolt, determined to hand over to a younger man the administration of the territories over which he ruled, and to devote the remainder of his life to preparation for the world to come. In a parting address delivered to the States of the Netherlands he warned them "to be loyal to the Catholic faith which has always been and everywhere the faith of Christendom, for should it disappear the foundations of goodness should crumble away and every sort of mischief now menacing the world would reign supreme." After his resignation he retired to a monastery in Estremadura, where he died in 1558. Spain and the Netherlands passed to his legitimate son, Philip II., while after some delay his brother, Ferdinand, was recognised as his successor in the Empire.

Charles V. was a man of sound judgment and liberal views, of great energy and prudence, as skilful in war as he was in the arts of diplomacy, and immensely superior in nearly every respect to his contemporaries, Francis I. of France and Henry VIII. of England. Yet in spite of all his admitted qualifications, and notwithstanding the fact that he was the ruler of three-fourths of Western Europe, he lived to witness the overthrow of his dearest projects and the complete failure of his general policy. But his want of success was not due to personal imprudence or inactivity. It is to be attributed to the circumstances of the times, the rebellion in Spain, the open revolt of some and the distrust of others in Germany, the rapid advance of the Turks towards the west, and, above all, the struggle with France. Despite his many quarrels with the Holy See, and in face of the many temptations held out to him to arrive at the worldwide dictatorship to which he was suspected of aspiring, by putting himself at the head of the new religious movement, he never wavered for a moment in his allegiance to the Catholic Church. —————

[1] Grisar, /Luther/ (Eng. Trans.), i., p. 4.

[2] /Id./ p. 8.

[3] Grisar, /Luther/ (Eng. Trans.), i., p. 14.

[4] Id. chap. iv.

[5] Keller, /Johann von Staupitz und die Anfange der Reformation/, 1888.

[6] Grisar, op. cit. (Eng. Trans.), i., 34, 323.

[7] Id. i., 34, Bd. iii., 957-8.

[8] Paulus, /Johann Tetzel, der Ablassprediger/, 1899. /Die Deutschen Dominikaner im Kampfe gegen Luther/, 1903.

[9] Grisar, op. cit. (Eng. Trans.), i., pp. 341-55.

[10] Kidd, /Documents of the Continental Reformation/, pp. 20-6.

[11] Specially, Nos. 43, 45, 59, 86.

[12] /Dialogus . . . in presumptuosas M. Lutheri conclusiones de potestate Papae./

[13] Greving, /Johann Eck/, etc., 1906.

[14] "/Beatissime Pater, prostratum me pedibus tuae beatitudinis offero cum omnibus quae sum et habeo. Vivifica, occide, voca, revoca, approba, reproba, ut placuerit. Vocem tuam vocem Christi in te praesidentis et loquentis agnoscam. Si mortem merui, mori non recusabo./"

[15] Pastor, op. cit., iv., 177-9.

[16] Creutzberg, /Karl von Miltitz/, 1907.

[17] "/Coram Deo et tota creatura sua testor, me neque voluisse neque hodie velle Ecclesiae Romanae ac Beatitudinis Tuae potestem ullo modo tangere aut quacunque versutia demoliri; quin plenissime confiteor huius ecclesiae potestatem esse super omnia, nec ei praeferendum quidquid sive in coelo sive in terra praeter unum Jesum Christum Dominum omnium/" (3rd March, 1519). Kidd, op. cit., p. 43.

[18] Grisar, op. cit. (Eng. Trans.), i., 359.

[19] /Cambridge Modern History/, ii., chaps. ii., iii.

[20] /Imperatorum nationis Germanicae gravamina ad Sadem Romanam/, 1725.

[21] De Weldige-Kremer, /De Joannis Cochlaei Vita et Scriptis/, 1865. He was one of the most energetic opponents of the Reformation party.

[22] Schwane, /Dogmengeschichte der neuren zeit/, 1890, pp. 131-51, 210-240, 251-92.

[23] Grisar, op. cit., Bd. iii., 228.

[24] /De Libero Arbitrio/, etc., 1524.

[25] Grisar, op. cit., Bd. i., pp. 483-502.

[26] Raynaldus, /Ann. Eccl./ (ann. 1522).

[27] Pastor, op. cit., Bd. iv., pp. 212-393.

[28] "Of such slender dimensions was the original Protestant Church; small as it was, it was only held together by the negative character of its protest."—/Camb. Mod. Hist./, ii., p. 205.

[29] Negwer, /Wimpina/, 1909.

[30] Hergenrother-Kirsch, op. cit., Bd. iii., p. 80.

[31] Pastor, op. cit., Bd. iv., 473-5.

[32] Hergenrother-Kirsch, op. cit., iii., pp. 102-8.

[33] For Luther's own views on the results of his preaching, cf. Dollinger, /Die Reformation/, Bd. ii., pp. 426-52.

[34] Grisar, op. cit., Bd. ii., 382-436.

[35] Grisar, op. cit., Bd. iii., 211-30.

[36] That there can be no question of suicide is admitted (Paulus
/Luthers Lebensende/, 1898).

[37] /Tischreden/ (/Table Talk/), cf. Grisar, ii., 178 sqq. Smith,
/Luther's Table Talk/, 1907. /Am. Ecc. Review/ (1906, pp. 1-18).

[38] /Personal Character of Luther/ (/Ir. Theol. Quart./, viii., p.
77-85).

(b) Zwingli in Switzerland: His attitude towards Lutheranism.

See works mentioned above (II. a). Dandliker, /Geschichte der Schweiz/, 3 Bde, 1904. Dandliker-Salisbury, /A Short History of Switzerland/, 1899. De Haller, /Histoire de la revolution religieuse ou de la reforme protestante dans la Suisse occidentale/, 1837. Gelpke, /Kirchengeschichte der Schweiz/, 1856- 61. Schuler-Schulthess, /Opera Huldrici Zwinglii/, 8 vols., 1828- 42. Jackson, /Huldreich Zwingli/, 1901.

The territory now known as Switzerland formed portion of the Holy Roman Empire. In 1291, however, during the reign of Rudolph of Habsburg, the three states or cantons of Uri, Schweiz, and Unterwalden, formed a confederation to defend their rights and privileges, thus laying the foundation for the existence of Switzerland as an independent nation. Other cantons joined the alliance, more especially after the victory at Morgarten in 1315, when the Austrian forces despatched against the Swiss were almost annihilated. Austria made various attempts to win back the Swiss to their allegiance but without success, and in 1394 the independence of the allied cantons was practically recognised.

About the time of the Reformation in Germany Switzerland consisted of thirteen cantons and several smaller "allied" or "friendly" states not admitted to full cantonal rights. Though bound together by a loose kind of confederation for purposes of defence against aggression, the various states enjoyed a large measure of independence, and each was ruled according to its own peculiar constitution. The Federal Diet or General Assembly was composed of representatives appointed by the cantons, and its decisions were determined by the votes of the states, the largest and most populous possessing no greater powers than the least influential member of the confederation. Some of the states were nominally democratic in their form of government, but, as in most countries during this period, the peasants had many grounds for reasonable complaint, particularly in regard to taxation, treasury pensions, and the enlisting and employment of the Swiss mercenary troops, then the best soldiers in Europe.

As in Germany, many causes were at work to prepare the ground for the new religious teaching. On account of the free character of its institutions refugees of all kinds fled to Switzerland for asylum, and were allowed great liberty in propagating their views. Again, the Swiss mercenaries, returning from their campaigns and service, during which they were brought into contact with various classes and nations, served much the same purpose as does the modern newspaper. In both these ways the peasants of Switzerland were kept in touch with the social, political, and religious condition of the rest of Europe, and with the hopes and plans of their own class in other kingdoms. Humanism had not, indeed, made very striking progress in Switzerland, though the presence of Erasmus at Basle, and the attacks that he directed against the monks and the clergy, could not fail to produce some effect on a people whose minds were already prepared for such methods by their acquaintance with modern developments.

If, however, the Church in Switzerland had been free from abuses not all the wit and eloquence of Erasmus and his followers could have produced a revolt, but unfortunately, the influences that led to the downfall of religion in other countries were also at work in the Swiss cantons. The cathedral chapters were composed for the greater part of men who had no vocation to the priesthood, and who adopted the clerical profession because they wished to enrich themselves from the revenues of the Church, and were ensured of good positions through the influence of their relatives and patrons. Many of the clergy were far from being perfect, nor were all the religious institutions mindful of the spirit or even of the letter of their constitutions. Unfortunately, too, owing to the peculiar political development of their country, the bishops of Switzerland were subject to foreign metropolitans, two of them being under the jurisdiction of the Archbishop of Mainz, two under Besancon, one under Aquileia, and one subject immediately to Rome. Partly for this reason, partly, also, owing to the increasing encroachments of the civil power, disputes and conflicts between the ecclesiastical and temporal jurisdictions were not unfrequent. But it would be a mistake to suppose that there were no good ecclesiastics in Switzerland at this time. There were many excellent priests, both secular and regular, who recognised the sad condition of affairs, and who supported measures such as those undertaken by the Bishop of Basle in 1503 with all their power. The great body of teachers known as the Friends of God were at work in Switzerland as in the Netherlands, and were doing splendid service for education, both secular and religious.

The man, who played in Switzerland the part played so successfully by Luther in Germany, was Ulrich Zwingli. He was the son of rich parents, born at Wildhaus, in the canton of Saint Gall (1484), educated at the Universities of Berne, Basle, and Vienna, and after his ordination to the priesthood, appointed to the parish of Glarus. He was a young man of remarkable ability both as a student and as a preacher, and was fortunate enough to attract the notice of a papal legate, through whose influence a pension was assigned to him to enable him to prosecute his studies. He was a good classical scholar with a more than average knowledge of Hebrew, and well versed in the Scriptures and in the writings of the Fathers. For a time he acted as chaplain to some Swiss regiments fighting in Italy for the Pope against France, and on his return to his native country he was appointed preacher at the famous shrine of Our Lady at Einsiedeln.[1] Here his oratorical powers stood him in good stead, but his judgment and level-headedness were not on the same high plane as his declamatory powers, nor was his own private life in keeping with the sanctity of the place or with the denunciations that he hurled so recklessly against his clerical brethren. He began to attack pilgrimages and devotions to the Blessed Virgin, but it was not so much for this as for his unlawful relations with a woman of bad character that he was relieved of his office.[2] He retired to Zurich where he was appointed preacher in the cathedral. Here he denounced the lives of the clergy and the abuses in the Church, relying, as he stated, upon what he had seen himself in Italy during his residence there as chaplain to the Swiss mercenaries. Like Luther, he well knew how to win the attention and sympathy of the mob by his appeals to the national feelings of his countrymen, and like Luther he insisted that the Scriptures were the sole rule of faith. He denounced in the strongest language the immorality and vices of the clergy, celibacy, vows of chastity, pilgrimages and the veneration of the saints, but for so far he had not broken entirely with the Church.

The preaching of the Indulgences promulgated by Leo X. in Constance was entrusted to the Franciscans. Their work was a difficult one especially as the Grand Council of Zurich forbade them to persist, as, indeed, did also the able and zealous Hugo von Hohenlandenberg, Bishop of Constance, in whose diocese Zurich was situated. Zwingli, confident of the support of the city authorities, attacked the doctrine of Indulgences and was backed by the Grand Council, which ordered, at his instigation, that the Word of God should be preached according to the Scriptures, regardless of tradition or the interpretation of the Church. Later on he directed his attacks against the meritoriousness of good works and the practice of fast and abstinence (1522), and about the same time he addressed a petition to the Bishop of Constance demanding that he should not interfere with the preaching of the pure Word of God nor set any obstacle to the marriage of his priests. He admitted publicly that his relations with women had been disgraceful, that he had learned from his own personal experience how impossible of fulfilment was the vow of chastity, and that marriage was the only remedy that would enable him to overcome the emotions of carnal lust referred to by St. Paul in his epistle to the Corinthians (I. 7, 9). The bishop refused to yield to this demand insisting on the strict observance of celibacy, and appealed to the Grand Council to support him with the full weight of their authority (April 1522).

Incensed by this refusal Zwingli shook off the yoke of ecclesiastical authority, rejected the primacy of the Pope, and the infallibility of General Councils, denounced celibacy and vows of chastity as inventions of the devil, and called upon the Swiss people to support him in his fight for religious freedom. Once before, in 1520, Leo X. had summoned Zwingli to Rome to answer for his teaching, but the summons had been unheeded. Adrian VI. made another attempt to win him from his dangerous course by a letter full of kindness and sympathy, but his remonstrance produced no effect (1523). The Grand Council of Zurich, hopeful of securing a preponderating influence in Switzerland by taking the lead in the new movement, favoured Zwingli. Instead of responding to the appeal of the Bishop of Constance it announced a great religious disputation to be held in January 1523, to which both Zwingli and his opponents were summoned for the explanation and defence of their views. Zwingli put forward sixty-seven theses, the principal of which were that the Bible is the sole rule of faith, that the Church is not a visible society but only an assembly of the elect, of which body Christ is the only true head, that consequently the jurisdiction of the Pope and of the bishops is a usurpation devoid of scriptural authority, that the Mass, Confession, Purgatory, and Intercession of the Saints are to be rejected as derogatory to the merits of Christ, and finally, that clerical celibacy and monastic vows, instead of being counsels of perfection, are only cloaks for sin and hypocrisy. The Bishop of Constance refused to take part in such a disputation. His vicar-general, Johann Faber of Constance, however, attended the meeting, not indeed to take part in the discussion but merely to protest against it as opposed to the authority of the Church and of the councils. As his protests were unheeded, he undertook to defend the doctrines attacked, but in the end the Grand Council declared that the victory rested with Zwingli.

Flushed with his triumph Zwingli now proceeded to put his theories into practice. Supported by a mob he endeavoured to prevent the celebration of Mass, religious processions, the use of pictures and statues, and the solemn ceremonial associated with Extreme Unction and the Viaticum. He compiled an introduction to the New Testament for the use of the clergy, called upon them to abandon their obligations of celibacy, and set them an example by taking as his wife a woman who had been for years his concubine. He and his followers, supported by the majority of the Grand Council, went through the city destroying altars, pictures, statues, organs, and confessionals, and erecting in place of the altars plain tables with a plate for bread and a vessel for wine. The Catholic members of the Grand Council were driven from their position, and Catholic worship forbidden in Zurich (1523-5).

The system of Zwingli was much more rationalistic and, in a certain sense, much more logical than that of Luther. Imbued with the principles of pantheistic mysticism, he maintained that God is in Himself all being, created as well as uncreated, and all activity. Hence it was as absurd to speak of individual liberty or individual action as to speak of a multiplicity of gods. Whether it was a case of doing good or doing evil man was but a machine like a brush in the hands of a painter. In regard to sin he contended man may be punished for violating the law laid down by God even though the violation is unavoidable, but God, being above all law, is nowise to blame. Concupiscence or self-love is, according to him, at the root of all misdeeds. It is in itself the real original sin, and is not blotted out by Baptism. His teaching on the Scriptures, individual judgment, ecclesiastical authority as represented by the bishops, councils, and Pope, good works, indulgences, purgatory, invocation of the saints, and vows of chastity differed but slightly from what Luther had put forward. On the question of Justification, and particularly on the doctrine of the Eucharist, the two reformers found themselves in hopeless conflict.[3]

Zwingli's teaching did not at first find much favour in other portions of German Switzerland. Lucerne declared against it in 1524. The city authorities forbade the introduction of the new teaching, and offered an asylum to those Catholics who had been forced to flee from Zurich. Other cantons associated themselves with Lucerne, and a deputation was sent to Zurich to request the city authorities to abandon Zwingli and to take part in a general movement for a real and constitutional reform. But the Grand Council, mindful of the political advantages which would accrue to Zurich from its leadership in the new religious revolt, declined to recede from their position.

While Zwingli was at work in Zurich, Oecolampadius (1482-1531) set himself to stir up religious divisions in Basle. He was born at Weisnberg, studied law at Bologna and theology subsequently at Heidelberg, was ordained priest, and appointed to a parish in Basle (1512). With Erasmus he was on terms of the closest intimacy, and, as Basle was then one of the great literary centres of the world, he soon became acquainted with Luther's pamphlets and teaching. Some of the clergy in Basle, notably Wolfgang Capito, a warm friend of Zwingli, were already showing signs of restlessness especially in regard to the Mass, purgatory, and invocation of the saints, and Oecolampadius was not slow to imbibe the new ideas. In 1518 he was appointed preacher in the Cathedral of Augsburg, but, having resigned this office on account of failing health, he withdrew to the convent of Altmunster, where, for some time, he lived a retired life. Subsequently he acted as chaplain to the well-known German knight, Franz von Sickingen, and finally, in 1524, he accepted the parish of St. Martin's in Basle.

He now proclaimed himself openly a supporter of Zwingli, advocated the new teaching on justification and good works, and attacked several Catholic doctrines and practices. For him, as indeed for most of the other reformers, clerical celibacy was the great stumbling block. He encouraged his followers by taking as his wife a young widow, who was subsequently in turn the wife of the two renowned Lutheran preachers, Butzer and Capito. At first the city authorities and a large body of the university professors were against him, but owing to the disturbances created by his partisans full liberty of worship was granted to the new sect (1527). Not content with this concession, they demanded that the Mass should be suppressed. In 1529 the followers of Oecolampadius rose in revolt, seized the arsenal of the city, directed the cannon on the principal squares, and attacked the churches, destroying altars, statues, and pictures. Erasmus, disgusted with such methods of propagating religion, left Basle and sought a home in Freiburg. The Catholics were expelled from the city council, their religion was proscribed, and Basle joined hands with Zurich in its rebellion against the Church.

The revolt soon spread into other cantons of Switzerland. In Berne and Schaffhausen both parties were strong and determined, and for a time the issue of the conflict was uncertain, but in 1528 the party of Zwingli and Oecolampadius secured the upper hand. Similarly in St. Gall, Glarus, etc., victory rested with the new teaching. Other cantons, as for example, Solothurn, wavered as to which side they should take, but the three oldest cantons of Switzerland, Uri, Schweiz and Unterwalden, together with Zug, Freiburg and Lucerne, refused to be separated from the Church.

Apart altogether from the question of religion, there was a natural opposition between populous and manufacturing centres like Berne and Basle, and the rural cantons, devoted almost entirely to agricultural and pastoral pursuits. When religious differences supervened to accentuate the rivalry already in existence, they led almost inevitably to the division of Switzerland into two hostile camps. Zurich, Basle, Berne, Schaffhausen, and St. Gall, though they were the most important cities, soon found themselves unable to force their views on the rest of the country, as they were withstood by the federal council, the majority of which was still Catholic. The latter insisted that a conference should be held to settle the religious disputes. The conference was arranged to take place at Baden in 1526. Eck, assisted by two other Catholic theologians, Faber and Murner, undertook to defend the Catholic position. Zurich refused to send representatives, but the reforming party were represented by Oecolampadius, Haller, and others of their leaders. The conference was attended by delegates from twelve cantons, and was approved of by the Swiss bishops. After a discussion lasting fifteen days during which Eck defended the Catholic doctrine regarding the Mass, Eucharist, Purgatory, and the Intercession of the Saints, the majority of the cantons decided in his favour, and a resolution was passed forbidding religious changes in Switzerland and prohibiting the sale of the works of Luther and Zwingli.

It was soon evident, however, that peace could not be secured by such measures. The rural and Catholic cantons were in the majority, much to the disgust of flourishing cities like Berne and Zurich. These states, believing that they were entitled to a controlling voice in the federal council, determined to use the religious question to bring about a complete change in the constitution of the country by assigning the cantonal representation in the federal council on the basis of population. They formed an alliance with the other Protestant cantons and with Constance to forward their claims (1527-8), but the Catholic cantons imitated their example by organising a Catholic federation to which the Archduke, Ferdinand of Austria, promised his support (1529).

Zwingli was most eager for war, and at his instigation the army of Zurich, backed by Berne, took the field in 1529. The Catholic states, however, made it clear that they were both able and willing to defend the constitution, but the bond of national unity and the dislike of civil war exercised such an influence on both parties that a conflict was averted by the conclusion of the Peace of Kappel (1529). The concessions secured for his party by this Peace did not satisfy Zwingli, who desired nothing less than the complete subjugation of the Catholic cantons. Negotiations were opened up with Philip of Hesse, with the German Lutherans, and with Francis I. of France, and when the news of the formation of the League of Schmalkald reached the Protestants of Switzerland, it was thought that the time had come when the triumph of Zurich and Berne, which meant also the triumph of the new teaching, should be secured. Zwingli besought his followers to issue a declaration of war, but it was suggested that the reduction of the Catholic cantons could be secured just as effectively by a blockade. In this movement Zurich took the lead. The result, however, did not coincide with the anticipations of Zwingli. The Catholic cantons flew to arms at once, and as their territories formed a compact unit, they were able to put their united army into the field before the forces of Zurich and Berne could effect a junction. The decisive battle took place at Kappel in October 1531, when the Zwinglians suffered a complete defeat, Zwingli himself and five hundred of the best men of Zurich being left dead on the field. The army of Berne advanced too late to save their allies or to change the result of the war. The Catholic cantons used their victory with great moderation. Instead of crushing their opponents, as they might have done, they concluded with them the second Peace of Kappel (1531). According to the terms of this treaty, no canton was to force another to change its religion, and liberty of worship was guaranteed in the cantonal domains. Several of the districts that had been wavering returned to the Catholic faith, and the abbot of St. Gall was restored to the abbey from which he had been expelled.

Oecolampadius followed Zwingli to the grave in a short time, having been carried off by a fever about a month after the defeat of Kappel, and the leadership of the movement devolved upon their successors, Bullinger and Myconius.

With regard to the Sacraments Luther and Zwingli agreed that they were only signs of grace, though in the explanation of this view Zwingli was much more extreme, because much more logical, than Luther. Believing as he did that justification depended upon faith alone, he contended that the Sacraments were mere ceremonies by which a man became or showed himself to be a follower of Christ. They were devoid of any objective virtue, and were efficacious only in so far as they guaranteed that the individual receiving them possessed the faith necessary for justification. But it was principally in regard to the Eucharist that the two reformers found themselves in hopeless disagreement. Had Luther wished to be consistent he should have thrown over the Real Presence as well as Transubstantiation, but the force of tradition, the fear that any such teaching would arouse the opposition of the people, and the plain meaning of the texts of Scripture forced him to adopt a compromise. "Had Doctor Carlstadt," he wrote, "or any one else been able to persuade me five years ago that the sacrament of the altar is but bread and wine he would, indeed, have done me a great service, and rendered me very material aid in my efforts to make a breach in the Papacy. But it is all in vain. The meaning of the texts is so evident that every artifice of language will be powerless to explain it away." He contended that the words "This is My body and This is My blood" could bear only one meaning, namely, that Christ was really present, but while agreeing with Catholics about the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, he rejected the doctrine of Transubstantiation, maintaining in its place Consubstantiation or Impanation.

Though Luther insisted so strongly on the Real Presence, it is not clear that in the beginning he had any very fixed views on the subject, or that he would have been unwilling to change any views he had formed, were it not that one of his lieutenants, Carlstadt, began to exercise his privilege of judgment by rejecting the Real Presence. Such an act of insubordination aroused the implacable ire of Luther, who denounced his former colleague as a heretic, and pursued him from Wittenberg and Jena, where he had fled for refuge. In the end Carlstadt was obliged to retire to Switzerland, where his doctrine found favour with the Swiss reformers.

From the beginning of his campaign Zwingli realised that the Real Presence was not in harmony with his theory of justification, and hence he was inclined to hold that the Eucharist was a mere sign instituted as a reminder of Christ's death. But in view of the clear testimony of the Holy Scripture he was at a loss how to justify his position. At last by pondering on other passages that he considered similar to the text "This is My body," where the word "is" should be interpreted "signifies," he contended that the true meaning of Christ's words at the Last Supper is, "This signifies My body." Oecolampadius agreed with this interpretation, though for a different reason, comparing the Blessed Eucharist to a ring that a husband going away on a long journey might give to his wife as a pledge and reminder of his affection.[4]

Luther resented bitterly such a theory as an attack upon his authority, especially as Zwingli refused to allow himself to be brow- beaten into retracting his doctrine. Instead of submitting to the new religious dictator, Zwingli sought to justify himself by the very principle by which Luther justified his own revolt against the Catholic Church. He contended that Luther's theory of justification involved logically the rejection of the Eucharist as well as of the other Sacraments, that the Scriptural texts could be interpreted as he had interpreted them, and that he was not bound to take any cognisance of the Christian tradition or of the authority of the councils. He complained that Luther treated himself and his followers as heretics with whom it was not right to hold communion, that he proscribed their writings and denounced them to the magistrates, and that he did precisely towards them what he blamed the Pope for doing to himself. Luther found it difficult to meet this line of argument. Much against his will he was obliged to support his opinions by appealing to the tradition of the Church and the writings of the Fathers, which latter he had denounced as "fetid pools whence Christians have been drinking unwholesome draughts instead of slaking their thirst from the pure fountain of Holy Scripture."[5] "This article (The Eucharist)," he wrote, "is neither unscriptural nor a dogma of human invention. It is based upon the clear and irrefragable words of Holy Writ. It has been uniformly held and believed throughout the whole Christian world from the foundation of the Church to the present time. That such has been the fact is attested by the writings of the Holy Fathers, both Greek and Latin, by daily usage and by the uninterrupted practice of the Church. . . . To doubt it, therefore, is to disbelieve the Christian Church and to brand her as heretical, and with her the prophets, apostles, and Christ Himself, who, in establishing the Church said: 'Behold I am with you all days even to the consummation of the world.'"[6]

The opposition of Luther did not put an end to the controversy. The Zwinglian theories spread rapidly in Switzerland, whence they were carried into Germany, much to the annoyance of Luther and of the Protestant princes for whom religious unity was necessary at almost any cost. Luther would listen to no schemes of compromise. He denounced the Zwinglians in the most violent terms, as servants of the devil, liars, and heretics for whose salvation no man should pray. Having rejected Transubstantiation in order to rid himself of the sacrificial idea and of the doctrine of a Christian priesthood, he fought strongly for the Real Presence on the ground that God's body, being united to the divinity, enjoyed the divine attribute of ubiquity. To this Zwingli made the very effective rejoinder that if the words of Scripture "This is My body and this is My blood" are to be interpreted literally they could bear only the sense put upon them by the Catholics, because Christ did not say "My body is in or under this bread," but rather "This (the bread) is My body." Furthermore, he pointed out that Luther's explanation concerning the ubiquity of Christ's body led clearly to a confusion of the divine and human nature of Christ, and was in consequence only a renewal of the Monophysite heresy, condemned by the whole Christian Church.

This unseemly dispute between the two leaders of the new movement did not please the Protestant princes of Germany, for whom division of their forces might mean political extinction. The Elector of Saxony supported Luther warmly, while Philip of Hesse was more or less inclined to side with Zwingli. A conference was arranged between the two parties at Marburg (1529), at which Luther and Oecolampadius were present to defend their views. On a few secondary matters an agreement was arrived at, but on the main question, the Real Presence, Luther would yield nothing, and so the Reformers were divided into two parties, German Lutherans and Swiss Reformed. —————