BOOK V.

THE SIEGE OF MILAN

 

THE account of the cruel manner in which the pope had been treated filled all Europe with astonishment or horror. To see a Christian emperor, who by possessing that dignity ought to have been the protector and advocate of the holy see, lay violent hands on him who represented Christ on earth, and detain his sacred person in a rigorous captivity, was considered as an impiety that merited the severest vengeance, and which called for the immediate interposition of every dutiful son of the Church. Francis and Henry, alarmed at the progress of the Imperial arms in Italy, had even before the taking of Rome, entered into a closer alliance; and in order to give some check to the emperor’s ambition, had agreed to make a vigorous diversion in the Low-Countries. The force of every motive which had influenced them at that time was now increased; and to these were added the desire of rescuing the pope out of the emperor’s hands, a measure no less politic than it appeared to be pious.

This, however, rendered it necessary to abandon their hostile intentions against the Low-Countries, and to make Italy the seat of war, as it was by vigorous operations there they might contribute most effectually towards delivering Rome, and setting Clement at liberty. Francis being now sensible that, in his system with regard to the affairs of Italy, the spirit of refinement had carried him too far; and that by an excess of remissness, he had allowed Charles to attain advantages which he might easily have prevented; was eager to make reparation for an error, of which he was not often guilty, by an activity more suitable to his temper. Henry thought his interposition necessary, in order to hinder the emperor from becoming master of all Italy, and acquiring by that means such superiority of power, as would enable hire for the future to dictate without control to the other princes of Europe. Wolsey, whom Francis had taken care to secure by flattery and presents, the certain methods of gaining his favor, neglected nothing that could incense his master against the emperor. Besides all these public considerations, Henry was influenced by one of a more private nature; having begun about this time to form his great scheme of divorcing Catherine of Aragon, towards the execution of which he knew that the sanction of papal authority would be necessary, he was desirous to acquire as much merit as possible with Clement, by appearing to be the chief instrument of his deliverance.

The negotiation, between princes thus disposed, was not tedious. Wolsey himself conducted it, on the part of his sovereign, with unbounded powers. Francis treated with him in person at Amiens [July 11], where the cardinal appeared, and was received with royal magnificence. A marriage between the duke of Orleans and the princess Mary was agreed to as the basis of the confederacy; it was resolved that Italy should be the theatre of war, the strength of the army which should take the field, as well as the contingent of troops or of money, which each prince should furnish, were settled; and if the emperor did not accept of the proposals which they were jointly to make him, they bound themselves immediately to declare war, and to begin hostilities [Aug. 18]. Henry, who took every resolution with impetuosity, entered so eagerly into this new alliance, that, in order to give Francis the strongest proof of his friendship and respect, he formally renounced the ancient claim of the English monarchs to the crown of France, which had long been the pride and ruin of the nation; as a full compensation for which he accepted a pension of fifty thousand crowns, to be paid annually to himself and his successors.

The pope, being unable to fulfill the conditions of his capitulation, still remained a prisoner under the severe custody of Alarcon. The Florentines no sooner heard of what had happened at Rome, than they ran to arms in a tumultuous manner; expelled the cardinal di Cortona, who governed their city in the pope’s name; defaced the arms of the Medici; broke in pieces the statues of Leo and Clement; and declaring themselves a free state, reestablished their ancient popular government. The Venetians, taking advantage of the calamity of their ally the pope, seized Ravenna, and other places belonging to the church, under pretext of keeping them in deposite. The dukes of Urbino and Ferrara laid hold likewise on part of the spoils of the unfortunate pontiff, whom they considered as irretrievably ruined.

Lannoy, on the other hand, labored to derive some solid benefit from that unforeseen event, which gave such splendor and superiority to his master’s arms. For this purpose he marched to Rome, together with Moncada, and the marquis del Guasto, at the head of all the troops which they could assemble in the kingdom of Naples. The arrival of this reinforcement brought new calamities on the unhappy citizens of Rome; for the soldiers envying the wealth of their companions, imitated their license, and with the utmost, rapacity gathered the gleanings, which had escaped the avarice of the Spaniards and Germans. There was not now any army in Italy capable of making head against the Imperialists; and nothing more was requisite to reduce Bologna, and the other towns in the ecclesiastical state, than to have appeared before them.

But the soldiers having been so long accustomed, under Bourbon, to an entire relaxation of discipline, and having tasted the sweets of living at discretion in a great city, almost without the control of a superior, were become so impatient of military subordination, and so averse to service, that they refused to leave Rome, unless all their arrears were paid; a condition which they knew to be impossible. At the same time, they declared, that they would not obey any other person than the prince of Orange, whom the army bad chosen general. Lannoy, finding that it was no longer safe for him to remain among licentious troops, who despised his dignity, and hated his person, returned to Naples; soon after the marquis del Guasto and Moncada thought it prudent to quit Rome for the same reason. The prince of Orange, a general only in name, and by the most precarious of all tenures, the good will of soldiers, whom success and license had rendered capricious, was obliged to pay more attention to their humors, than they did to his commands. Thus the emperor, instead of reaping any of the advantages which he might have expected from the reduction of Rome, had the mortification to see the most formidable body of troops that he had ever brought into the field, continue in a state of inactivity, from which it was impossible to rouse them.

This gave the king of France and the Venetians leisure to form new schemes, and to enter into new engagements for delivering the pope, and preserving the liberties of Italy. The newly restored republic of Florence very imprudently joined with them, and Lautrec, of whose abilities the Italians entertained a much more favorable opinion than his own master, was, in order to gratify them, appointed generalissimo of the league. It was with the utmost reluctance he undertook that office, being unwilling to expose himself a second time to the difficulties and disgraces, which the negligence of the king, or the malice of his favorites, might bring upon him.

The best troops in France marched under his command; and the king of England, though he had not yet declared war against the emperor, advanced a considerable sum towards carrying on the expedition. Lautrec’s first operations were prudent, vigorous, and successful. By the assistance of Andrew Doria, the ablest sea officer of that age, he rendered himself master of Genoa, and reestablished in that republic the faction of the Fregosi, together with the dominion of France. He obliged Alexandria to surrender after a short siege, and reduced all the country on that side of the Tesino. He took Pavia, which had so long resisted the arms of his sovereign, by assault, and plundered it with that cruelty, which the memory of the fatal disaster that had befallen the French nation before its walls naturally inspired.

All the Milanese, which Antonio de Leyva defended with a small body of troops, kept together, and supported by his own address and industry, must have soon submitted to his power, if he had continued to bend the force of his arms against that country. But Lautrec durst not complete a conquest which would have been so honorable to himself, and of such advantage to the league. Francis knew his confederates to be more desirous of circumscribing the Imperial power in Italy, than of acquiring new territories for him; and was afraid, that if Sforza were once reestablished in Milan, they would second but coldly the attack which he intended to make on the kingdom of Naples. For this reason he instructed Lautrec not to push his operations with too much vigor in Lombardy; and happily the importunities of the pope, and the solicitations of the Florentines, the one for relief, and the other for protection, were so urgent as to furnish him with a decent pretext for marching forward, without yielding to the entreaties of the Venetians and Sforza, who insisted on his laying siege to Milan.

 

ESPECIAL PRICE OF FREEDOM FOR A POPE

 

While Lautrec advanced slowly towards Rome, the emperor had time to deliberate concerning the disposal of the pope’s person, who still remained a prisoner in the castle of St. Angelo. Notwithstanding the specious veil of religion, with which he usually endeavored to cover his actions, Charles, in many instances, appears to have been but little under the influence of religious considerations, and had frequently, on this occasion, expressed an inclination to transport the pope into Spain, that he might indulge his ambition with the spectacle of the two most illustrious personages in Europe successively prisoners in his court. But the fear of giving new offence to all Christendom, and of filling his own subjects with horror, obliged him to forego that satisfaction.

The progress of the confederates made it now necessary, either to set the pope at liberty, or to remove him to some place of confinement more secure than the castle of St. Angelo. Many considerations induced him to prefer the former, particularly his want of the money, requisite as well for recruiting his army, as for paying off the vast arrears due to it. In order to obtain this, he had assembled the Cortes of Castile at Valladolid about the beginning of the year, and having laid before them the state of his affairs, and represented the necessity of making great preparations to resist the enemies, whom envy at the success which had crowned his arms would unite against him, he demanded a large supply in the most pressing terms [Feb. 11]; but the Cortes, as the nation was already exhausted by extraordinary donatives, refused to load it with any new burden, and in spite of all his endeavors to gain or to intimidate the members, persisted in this resolution. No resource, therefore, remained, but the extorting from Clement by way of ransom, a sum sufficient for discharging what was due to his troops, without which it was vain to mention to them their leaving Rome.

Nor was the pope inactive on his part, or his intrigues unsuccessful towards hastening such a treaty. By flattery, and the appearance of unbounded confidence, he disarmed the resentment of cardinal Colonna, and wrought upon his vanity, which made him desirous of showing the world, that as his power had at first depressed the pope, it could now raise him to his former dignity. By favors and promises he gained Morone, who, by one of those whimsical revolutions which occur so often in his life, and which so strongly display his character, had now recovered his credit and authority with the Imperialists. The address and influence of two such men easily removed all the obstacles which retarded an accommodation, and brought the treaty for Clement’s liberty to a conclusion, upon conditions hard indeed, but not more severe than a prince in his situation had reason to expect.

He was obliged to advance,

1) in ready money, a hundred thousand crowns for the use of the army;

2) to pay the same sum at the distance of a fortnight;

3) and at the end of three months, a hundred and fifty thousand more.

4) He engaged not to take part in the war against Charles, either in Lombardy or in Naples;

5) he granted him a bull of crusade,

6) and the tenth of ecclesiastical revenues in Spain;

7) and he not only gave hostages, but put the emperor in possession of several towns, as a security for the performance of these articles.

Having raised the first moiety by a sale of ecclesiastical dignities and benefices, and other expedients equally uncanonical, a day was fixed for delivering him from imprisonment [Dec. 6].

But Clement, impatient to be free, after a tedious confinement of six months, as well as full of the suspicion and distrust natural to the unfortunate, was so much afraid that the Imperialists might still throw in obstacles to put off his deliverance, that he disguised himself, on the night preceding the day when he was to be set free, in the habit of a merchant, and Alarcon having remitted somewhat of his vigilance upon the conclusion of the treaty, he made his escape undiscovered. He arrived before next morning at Orvietto, without any attendants but a single officer; and from thence wrote a letter of thanks to Lautrec, as the chief instrument of procuring him liberty.

 

FRANCIS VERSUS CHARLES. THE DUEL THAT NEVER CAME TO HAPPEN

 

During these transactions, the ambassadors of France and England repaired to Spain, in consequence of the treaty which Wolsey had concluded with the French king. The emperor, unwilling to draw on himself the united forces of the two monarchs, discovered an inclination to relax somewhat the rigor of the treaty of Madrid, to which, hitherto, he had adhered inflexibly. He offered to accept of the two millions of crowns, which Francis had proposed to pay as an equivalent for the duchy of Burgundy, and to set his sons at liberty, on condition that he would recall his army out of Italy, and restore Genoa, together with the other conquests which he had made in that country. With regard to Sforza, he insisted that his fate should be determined by the judges appointed to inquire into his crimes. These propositions being made to Henry, he transmitted them to his ally the French king, whom it more nearly concerned to examine and to answer them; and if Francis had been sincerely solicitous either to conclude peace or preserve consistency in his own conduct, he ought instantly to have closed with overtures which differed but little from the propositions which he himself had formerly made. But his views were now much changed; his alliance with Henry, Lautrec’s progress in Italy, and the superiority of his army there above that of the emperor, hardly left him room to doubt of the success of his enterprise against Naples.

Full of those sanguine hopes, he was at no loss to find pretexts for rejecting or evading what the emperor had proposed. Under the appearance of sympathy with Sforza, for whose interests he had not hitherto discovered much solicitude, he again demanded the full and unconditional reestablishment of that unfortunate prince in his dominions. Under color of its being imprudent to rely on the emperor’s sincerity, he insisted that his sons should be set at liberty before the French troops left Italy, or surrendered Genoa. The unreasonableness of these demands, as well as the reproachful insinuation with which they were accompanied, irritated Charles to such a degree, that he could hardly listen to them with patience; and repenting of his moderation, which had made so little impression on his enemies, declared that he would not depart in the smallest article from the conditions which he had now offered. Upon this the French and English ambassadors (for Henry had been drawn unaccount­ably to concur with Francis in these strange propositions) demanded and obtained their audience of leave.

Next day [Jan. 22, 1528], two heralds who had accompanied the ambassadors on purpose, though they had hitherto concealed their character, having assumed the ensigns of their office, appeared in the emperor's court, and being admitted into his presence, they, in the name of their respective masters, and with all the solemnities customary on such occasions, denounced war against him. Charles received both with a dignity suitable to his own rank, but spoke to each in a tone adapted to the sentiments which he entertained of their respective sovereigns. He accepted the defiance of the English monarch with a firmness tempered by some degree of decency and respect. His reply to the French king abounded with that acrimony of expression, which personal rivalship, exasperated by the memory of many injuries inflicted as well as suffered, naturally suggests. He desired the French herald to acquaint his sovereign, that he would henceforth consider him not only as a base violator of public faith, but as a stranger to the honor and integrity becoming a gentleman. Francis, too high-spirited to bear such an imputation, had recourse to an uncommon expedient in order to vindicate his character. He instantly sent back the herald with a cartel of defiance, in which he gave the emperor the lie in form, challenged him to single combat, requiring him to name the time and place of the encounter, and the weapons with which he chose to fight. Charles, as he was not inferior to his rival in spirit or bravery, readily accepted the challenge; but after several messages concerning the arrangement of all the circumstances relative to the combat, accompanied with mutual reproaches, bordering on the most indecent scurrility, all thoughts of this duel, more becoming the heroes of romance than the two greatest monarchs of their age, were entirely laid aside.

The example of two personages so illustrious drew such general attention, and carried with it so much authority, that it had considerable influence in producing an important change in manners all over Europe. Duels, as has already been observed, had long been permitted by the laws of all the European nations, and forming a part of their jurisprudence, were authorized by the magistrate on many occasions, as the most proper method of terminating questions with regard to property, or of deciding those which respected crimes. But single combats being considered as solemn appeals to the omniscience and justice of the Supreme Being, they were allowed only in public causes, according to the prescription of law, and carried on in a judicial form. Men accustomed to this manner of decisions in a court of justice, were naturally led to apply it to personal and private quarrels.

Duels, which at first could be appointed by the civil judge alone, were fought without the interposition of his authority, and in cases to which the laws did not extend. The transaction between Charles and Francis strongly countenanced this practice. Upon every affront, or injury, which seemed to touch his honor, a gentleman thought himself entitled to draw his sword, and to call on his adversary to give him satisfaction. Such an opinion becoming prevalent among men of fierce courage, of high spirit, and of rude manners, when offence was often given, and revenge was always prompt, produced most fatal consequences.

Much of the best blood in Christendom was shed; many useful lives were sacrificed; and, at some periods, war itself had hardly been more destructive than these private contests of honor. So powerful, however, is the dominion of fashion, that neither the terror of penal laws, nor reverence for religion, have been able entirely to abolish a practice unknown among the ancients, and not justifiable by any principle of reason; though at the same time, it must be admitted, that to this absurd custom, we must ascribe in some degree the extraordinary gentleness and complaisance of modern manners, and that respectful attention of one man to another, which at present render the social intercourses of life far more agreeable and decent than among the most civilized nations of antiquity.

 

THE STORY OF ANDREA DORIA

 

While the two monarchs seemed so eager to terminate their quarrel by a personal combat, Lautrec continued his operations, which promised to be more decisive. His army, which was now increased to thirty-five thousand men, advanced by great marches towards Naples [Feb.]. The terror of their approach, as well as the remonstrances and the entreaties of the prince of Orange, prevailed at last on the Imperial troops, though with difficulty, to quit Rome of which they had kept possession during ten months. But of that flourishing army which had entered the city, scarcely one half remained; the rest, cut off by the plague, or wasted by diseases, the effects of their inactivity, intemperance, and debauchery, fell victims to their own crimes. Lautrec made the greatest efforts to attack them in their retreat towards the Neapolitan territories, which would have finished the war at one blow. But the prudence of their leaders disappointed all his measures, and conducted them with little loss to Naples.

The people of that kingdom, extremely impatient to shake off the Spanish yoke, received the French with open arms, wherever they appeared to take possession; and, Gaeta and Naples excepted, hardly any place of importance remained in the hands of the Imperialists. The preservation of the former was owing to the strength of its fortifications, that of the latter to the presence of the Imperial army. Lautrec, however, sat down before Naples; but finding it vain to think of reducing a city by force while defended by a whole army, he was obliged to employ the slower, but less dangerous method of blockade; and having taken measures which appeared to him effectual, he confidently assured his master, that famine would soon compel the besieged to capitulate.

These hopes were strongly confirmed by the defeat of a vigorous attempt made by the enemy in order to recover the command of the sea. The galleys of Andrew Doria, under the command of his nephew Philippino, guarded the mouth of the harbor. Moncada, who had succeeded Lannoy in the viceroyalty, rigged out a number of galleys superior to Doria’s, manned them with a chosen body of Spanish veterans, and going on board himself, together with the marquis del Guasto, attacked Philippino before the arrival of the Venetian and French fleets. But the Genoese admiral, by his superior skill in naval operations, easily triumphed over the valor and number of the Spaniards. The viceroy, was killed, most of his fleet destroyed, and Guasto, with many officers of distinction, being taken prisoners, were put on board the captive galleys, and sent by Philippino as trophies of his victory to his uncle.

Notwithstanding this flattering prospect of success, many circumstances concurred to frustrate Lautrec’s expectations.

Clement, though he always acknowledged his being indebted to Francis for the recovery of his liberty, and often complained of the cruel treatment which he had met with from the emperor, was not influenced at this juncture by principles of gratitude, nor, which is more extraordinary, was he swayed by the desire of revenge. His past misfortunes rendered him more cautious than ever, and his recollection of the errors which he had committed, increased the natural irresolution of his mind. While he amused Francis with promises, he secretly negotiated with Charles; and being solicitous, above all things, to reestablish his family in Florence with its ancient authority, which he could not expect from Francis, who had entered into strict alliance with the new republic, he leaned rather to the side of his enemy than to that of his benefactor, and gave Lautrec no assistance towards carrying on his operations. The Venetians, viewing with jealousy the progress of the French arms, were intent only upon recovering such maritime towns in the Neapolitan dominions as were to be possessed by their republic, while they were altogether careless about the reduction of Naples, on which the success of the common cause depended. The king of England, instead of being able, as had been projected, to embarrass the emperor by attacking his territories in the Low-Countries, found his subjects so averse to an unnecessary war, which would have ruined the trade of the nation, that in order to silence their clamors and put a stop to the insurrections ready to break out among them, he was compelled to conclude a truce for eight months with the governess of the Netherlands. Francis himself, with the same unpardonable inattention of which he had formerly been guilty, and for which he had suffered so severely, neglected to make proper remittances to Lautrec for the support of his army.

These unexpected events retarded the progress of the French, discouraging both the general and his troops; but the revolt of Andrew Doria proved a fatal blow to all their measures. That gallant officer, the citizen of a republic, and trained up from his infancy in the sea service, retained the spirit of independence natural to the former, together with the plain liberal manners peculiar to the latter.

 

A stranger to the arts of submission and flattery necessary in courts, but conscious at the same time of his own merit and importance, he always offered his advice with freedom, and often preferred his complaints and remonstrances with boldness. The French ministers, unaccustomed to such liberties, determined to ruin a man who treated them with so little deference; and though Francis himself had a just sense of Doria’s services, as well as a high esteem for his character, the courtiers, by continually representing him as a man haughty, untractable, and more solicitous to aggrandize himself, than to promote the interest of France, gradually undermined the foundations of his credit, and filled the king's mind with suspicion and distrust. From thence proceeded several affronts, and indignities put upon Doria. His appointments were not regularly paid; his advice, even in naval affairs, was often slighted; an attempt was made to seize the prisoners taken by his nephew in the sea-fight off Naples; all which he bore with abundance of ill humor. But an injury offered to his country transported him beyond all bounds of patience. The French began to fortify Savona, to clear its harbor, and removing thither some branches of trade carried on at Genoa, plainly showed that they intended to render that town, which had been so long the object of jealousy and hatred to the Genoese, their rival in wealth and commerce. Doria, animated with a patriotic zeal for the honour and interest of his country, remonstrated against this in the highest tone, not without threats, if the measure were not instantly abandoned. This bold action, aggravated by the malice of the courtiers, and placed in the most odious light, irritated Francis to such a degree, that he commanded Barbesieux, whom he appointed admiral of the Levant, to sail directly to Genoa with the French fleet, to arrest Doria, and to seize his galleys. This rash order, the execution of which could have been secured only by the most profound secrecy, was concealed with so little care, that Doria got timely intelligence of it, and retired with all his galleys to a place of safety. Guasto, his prisoner, who had long observed and fomented his growing discontent, and had often allured him by magnificent promises to enter into the emperor's service, laid hold on this favorable opportunity. While his indignation and resentment were at their height, he prevailed on him to dispatch one of his officers to the Imperial court with his overtures and demands. The negotiation was not long; Charles, fully sensible of the importance of such an acquisition, granted him whatever terms he required. Doria sent back his commission, together with the collar of St. Michael, to Francis, and hoisting the Imperial colors, sailed with all his galleys towards Naples, not to block up the harbor of that unhappy city, as he had formerly engaged, but to bring them protection and deliverance.

His arrival opened the communication with the sea, and restored plenty in Naples, which was now reduced to the last extremity; and the French having lost their superiority at sea, were soon reduced to great straits for want of provisions. The prince of Orange, who succeeded the viceroy in the command of the Imperial army, showed himself by his prudent conduct worthy of that honor which his good fortune and the death of his generals had twice acquired him. Beloved by the troops, who, remembering the prosperity which they had enjoyed under his command, served him with the utmost alacrity, he let slip no opportunity of harassing the enemy, and by continual alarms or sallies fatigued and weakened them. As an addition to all these misfortunes, the diseases common in that country during the sultry months, began to break out among the French troops. The prisoners communicated to them the pestilence which the Imperial army had brought to Naples from Rome, and it raged with such violence, that few, either officers or soldiers, escaped the infection. Of the whole army, not four thousand men, a number hardly sufficient to defend the camp, were capable of doing duty; and being now besieged in their turn, they suffered all the miseries from which the Imperialists were delivered. Lautrec, after struggling long with so many disappointments and calamities, which preyed on his mind at the same time that the pestilence wasted his body, died [August 15], lamenting the negligence of his sovereign, and the infidelity of his allies, to which so many brave men had fallen victims. By his death, and the indisposition of the other generals, the command devolved on the marquis de Saluces, an officer altogether unequal to such a trust. He, with troops no less dispirited than reduced, retreated in disorder to Aversa; which town being invested by the prince of Orange, Saluces was under the necessity of consenting, that he himself should remain a prisoner of war, that his troops should lay down their arms and colors, give up their baggage, and march under a guard to the frontiers of France. By this ignominious capitulation, the wretched remains of the French army were saved; and the emperor, by his own perseverance and the good conduct of his generals, acquired once more the superiority in Italy.

The loss of Genoa followed immediately upon the ruin of the army in Naples. To deliver his country from the dominion of foreigners was Doria’s highest ambition, and had been his principal inducement to quit the service of France, and enter into that of the emperor. A most favorable opportunity for executing this honorable enterprise now presented itself. The city of Genoa, afflicted by the pestilence, was almost deserted by its inhabitants; the French garrison, being neither regularly paid nor recruited, was reduced to an inconsiderable number; Doria’s emissaries found that such of the citizens as remained, being weary alike of the French and Imperial yoke, the rigor of which they had alternately felt, were ready to welcome him as their deliverer, and to second all his measures. Things wearing this promising aspect, he sailed towards the coast of Genoa; on his approach the French galleys retired; a small body of men which he landed surprised one of the gates of Genoa in the nighttime; Trivulci, the French governor, with his feeble garrison, shut himself up in the citadel, and Doria took possession of the town without bloodshed or resistance [September 121]. Want of provisions quickly obliged Trivulci to capitulate; the people, eager to abolish such an odious monument of their servitude, ran together with a tumultuous violence, and leveled the citadel with the ground.

It was now in Doria’s power to have rendered himself the sovereign of his country, which he had so happily delivered from oppression. The fame of his former actions, the success of his present attempt, the attachment of his friends, the gratitude of his countrymen, together with the support of the emperor, all conspired to facilitate his attaining the supreme authority, and invited him to lay hold of it. But with a magnanimity of which there are few examples, he sacrificed all thoughts of aggrandizing himself to the virtuous satisfaction of establishing liberty in his country, the highest object at which ambition can aim. Having assembled the whole body of the people in the court before his palace, he assured them, that the happiness of seeing them once more in possession of freedom was to him a full reward for all his services; that, more delighted with the name of citizen than of sovereign, he claimed no preeminence or power above his equals; but remitted entirely to them the right of settling what form of government they would now choose to be established among them. The people listened to him with tears of admiration and of joy. Twelve persons were elected to new model the constitution of the republic. The influence of Doria’s virtue and example communicated itself to his countrymen; the factions which had long torn and ruined the state seemed to be forgotten; prudent precautions were taken to prevent their reviving, and the same form of government which has subsisted with little variation since that time in Genoa was established with universal applause. Doria lived to a great age, beloved, respected, and honored by his countrymen; and adhering uniformly to his professions of moderation, without arrogating anything unbecoming a private citizen, he preserved a great ascendant over the councils of the republic, which owed its being to his generosity. The authority which he possessed was more flattering, as well as more satisfactory, than that derived from sovereignty; a dominion founded in love and in gratitude; and upheld by veneration for his virtues, not by the dread of his power. His memory is still reverenced by the Genoese, and he is distinguished in their public monuments, and celebrated in the works of their historians, by the most honorable of all appellations, THE FATHER OF HIS COUNTRY, AND THE RESTORER OF ITS LIBERTY.

 

THE PEACE OF THE LADIES

 

1529.] Francis, in order to recover the reputation of his arms, discredited by so many losses, made new efforts in the Milanese. But the count of St. Pol, a rash and inexperienced officer, to whom he gave the command, was no match for Antonio de Leyva, the ablest of the Imperial generals. He, by his superior skill in war, checked with a handful of men, the brisk, but ill-concerted motions of the French; and though so infirm himself that he was carried constantly in a litter, he surpassed them, when occasion required, no less in activity than in prudence. By an unexpected march he surprised, defeated, and took prisoner the count of St. Pol, ruining the French army in the Milanese as entirely as the prince of Orange had ruined that which besieged Naples.

Amidst these vigorous operations in the field, each party discovered an impatient desire of peace, and continual negotiations were carried on for that purpose. The French king, discouraged, and almost exhausted, by so many unsuccessful enterprises, was reduced now to think of obtaining the release of his sons by concessions, not by the terror of his arms. The pope hoped to recover by a treaty whatever he had lost in the war. The emperor, notwithstanding the advantages which he had gained, had many reasons to make him wish for an accommodation. Solyman, having overrun Hungary, was ready to break in upon the Austrian territories with the whole force of the East. The reformation gaining ground daily in Germany, the princes who favored it had entered into a confederacy which Charles thought dangerous to the tranquility of the empire. The Spaniards murmured at a war of such unusual length, the weight of which rested chiefly on them.

The variety and extent of the emperor’s operations far exceeded what his revenues could support; his success hitherto had been owing chiefly to his own good fortune and to the abilities of his generals, nor could he flatter himself that they, with troops destitute of everything necessary, would always triumph over enemies still in a condition to renew their attacks. All parties, however, were at equal pains to conceal or to dissemble their real sentiments. The emperor, that his inability to carry on the war might not be suspected, insisted on high terms in the tone of a conqueror. The pope, solicitous not to lose his present allies before he came to any agreement with Charles, continued to make a thousand protestations of fidelity to the former, while he privately negotiated with the latter. Francis, afraid that his confederates might prevent him by treating for themselves with the emperor, had recourse to many dishonorable artifices, in order to turn their attention from the measures which he was taking to adjust all differences with his rival.

In this situation of affairs, when all the contending powers wished for peace, but durst not venture too hastily on the steps necessary for attaining it, two ladies undertook to procure this blessing so much desired by all Europe [May]. These were Margaret of Austria, duchess-dowager of Savoy, the emperor’s aunt, and Louise, Francis’s mother. They agreed on an interview at Cambray, and being lodged in two adjoining houses, between which a communication was opened, met together without ceremony or observation, and held daily conferences, to which no person whatever was admitted. As both were profoundly skilled in business, thoroughly acquainted with the secrets of their respective courts, and possessed with perfect confidence in each other, they soon made great progress towards a final accommodation, and the ambassadors of all the confederates waited in anxious suspense to know their fate, the determination of which was entirely in the hands of those illustrious negotiators.

But whatever diligence they used to hasten forward a general peace, the pope had the address and industry to get the start of his allies, by concluding at Barcelona a particular treaty for himself [June 20]. The emperor, impatient to visit Italy in his way to Germany, and desirous of reestablishing tranquility in the one country, before he attempted to compose the disorders which abounded in the other, found it necessary to secure at least one alliance among the Italian states, on which he might depend. That with Clement, who courted it with unwearied importunity, seemed more proper than any other.

Charles being extremely solicitous to make some reparation for the insults which he had offered to the sacred character of the pope, and to redeem past offences by new merit, granted Clement, notwithstanding all his misfortunes, terms more favorable than he could have expected after a continued series of success. Among other articles, he engaged to restore all the territories belonging to the ecclesiastical state; to reestablish the dominion of the Medici in Florence; to give his natural daughter in marriage to Alexander the head of that family; and to put it in the pope’s power to decide concerning the fate of Sforza, and the possession of the Milanese. In return for these ample concessions, Clement gave the emperor the investiture of Naples without the reserve of any tribute, absolved all who had been concerned in assaulting and plundering Rome, and permitted Charles and his brother Ferdinand to levy the fourth of the ecclesiastical revenues throughout their dominions.

The account of this transaction quickened the negotiations at Cambray, and brought Margaret and Louise to an immediate agreement [Aug. 5]. The treaty of Madrid served as the basis of that which they concluded, the latter being intended to mitigate the rigor of the former. The chief articles were, That the emperor should not, for the present, demand the restitution of Burgundy, reserving however, in full force, his rights and pretensions to that duchy; That Francis should pay two millions of crowns as the ransom of his sons, and before they were set at liberty, should restore such towns as he still held in the Milanese; That he should resign his pretensions to the sovereignty of Flanders and of Artois; That he should renounce all his pretensions to Naples, Milan, Genoa, and every other place beyond the Alps; That he should immediately consummate the marriage concluded between him and the emperor’s sister Eleanora.

Thus Francis, chiefly from his impatience to procure liberty to his sons, sacrificed everything which had at first prompted him to take arms, or which had induced him, by continuing hostilities during nine successive campaigns, to protract the war to a length hardly known in Europe before the establishment of standing armies, and the imposition of exorbitant taxes, became universal. The emperor, by this treaty, was rendered sole arbiter of the fate of Italy; he delivered his territories in the Netherlands from an unpleasant badge of subjection; and after having baffled his rival in the field, he prescribed to him the conditions of peace. The different conduct and spirit with which the two monarchs carried on the operations of war, led naturally to such an issue of it. Charles, inclined by temper as well as obliged by his situation, concerted all his schemes with caution, pursued them with perseverance, and observing circumstances and events with attention, let none escape that could be improved to advantage. Francis, more enterprising than steady, undertook great designs with warmth, but often executed them with remissness; and diverted by his pleasures, or deceived by his favorites, he lost on several occasions the most promising opportunities of success. Nor had the character of the two rivals themselves greater influence on the operations of war, than the opposite qualities of the generals whom they employed. Among the Imperialists, valor tempered with prudence; fertility of invention aided by experience; discernment to penetrate the designs of their enemies; a provident sagacity in conducting their own measures; in a word, all the talents which form great commanders and ensure victory, were conspicuous. Among the French, these qualities were either wanting, or the very reverse of them abounded; nor could they boast of one man (unless we except Lautrec, who was always unfortunate) that equaled the merit of Pescara, Leyva, Guasto, the prince of Orange, and other leaders, whom Charles had to set in opposition to them. Bourbon, Marone, Doria, who by their abilities and conduct might have been capable of balancing the superiority which the Imperialists had acquired, were induced to abandon the service of France, by the carelessness of the king, and the malice or injustice of his counselors; and the most fatal blows given to France during the progress of the war, proceeded from the despair and resentment of these three persons.

The hard conditions to which Francis was obliged to submit were not the most afflicting circumstances to him in the treaty of Cambray. He lost his reputation and the confidence of all Europe, by abandoning his allies to his rival. Unwilling to enter into the details necessary for accosting their interests, or afraid that whatever he claimed for them must have been purchased by farther concessions on his own part, he gave them up in a body; and without the least provision in their behalf, left the Venetians, the Florentines, the duke of Ferrara, together with such of the Neapolitan barons as had joined his army, to the mercy of the emperor. They exclaimed loudly against this base and perfidious action, of which Francis himself was so much ashamed, that in order to avoid the pain of hearing from their ambassadors the reproaches which he justly merited, it was some time before he would consent to allow them an audience. Charles, on the other hand, was attentive to the interest of every person who had adhered to him; the rights of some of his Flemish subjects, who had estates or pretensions in France, were secured; one article was inserted, obliging Francis to restore the blood and memory of the constable Bourbon; and to grant his heirs the possession of his lands which had been forfeited; another, by which indemnification was stipulated for those French gentlemen who had accompanied Bourbon in his exile. This conduct, laudable in itself, and placed in the most striking light by a comparison with that of Francis, gained Charles as much esteem as the success of his arms had acquired him glory.

Francis did not treat the king of England with the same neglect as his other allies. He communicated to him all the steps of his negotiation at Cambray, and luckily found that monarch in a situation which left him no choice, but to approve implicitly of his measures, and to concur with them. Henry had been soliciting the pope for some time, in order to obtain a divorce from Catharine of Aragon his queen. Several motives combined in prompting the king to urge his suit. As he was powerfully influenced at some seasons by religious considerations, he entertained many scruples concerning the legitimacy of his marriage with his brother’s widow; his affections had long been estranged from the queen, who was older than himself, and had lost all the charms which she possessed in the earlier part of her life; he was passionately desirous of having male issue: Wolsey artfully fortified his scruples, and encouraged his hopes, that he might widen the breach between him and the emperor, Catharine’s nephew, and, what was more forcible perhaps in its operation than all these united, the king had conceived a violent love for the celebrated Ann Boleyn, a young lady of great beauty, and of greater accomplishments, whom, as he found it impossible to gain her on other terms, he determined to raise to the throne.

The papal authority had often been interposed to grant divorces for reasons less specious than those which Henry produced. When the matter was first proposed to Clement, during his imprisonment in the castle of St. Angelo, as his hopes of recovering liberty depended entirely on the king of England, and his ally of France, he expressed the warmest inclination to gratify him. But no sooner was he set free, than he discovered other sentiments. Charles, who ho espoused the protection of his aunt with zeal inflamed by resentment, alarmed the pope on the one hand with threats, which made a deep impression on his timid mind; and allured him on the other with those promises in favor of his family, which he afterwards accomplished. Upon the prospect of these, Clement not only forgot all his obligations to Henry, but ventured to endanger the interest of the Romish religion in England, and run the risk of alienating that kingdom for ever from the obedience of the papal see.

After amusing Henry during two years with all the subtleties and chicane which the court of Rome can so dexterously employ to protract or defeat any cause; after displaying the whole extent of his ambiguous and deceitful policy, the intricacies of which the English historians, to whom it properly belongs, have found it no easy matter to trace and unravel; he, at last, recalled the powers of the delegates, whom he had appointed to judge in the point, advocated the cause to Rome, leaving the king no other hope of obtaining a divorce, but from the personal decision of the pope himself. As Clement was now in strict alliance with the emperor, who had purchased his friendship by the exorbitant concessions which have been mentioned, Henry despaired of procuring any sentence from the former but what was dictated by the latter. His honor, however, and passions concurred in preventing him from relinquishing his scheme of a divorce, which he determined to accomplish by other means, and at any rate; and the continuance of Francis’s friendship being necessary to counterbalance the emperor’s power, he, in order to secure that, not only offered no remonstrances against the total neglect of their allies, in the treaty of Cambray, but made Francis the present of a large sum, as a brotherly contribution towards the payment of the ransom for his sons.

 

THE CONFESSION OF AUGSBURG

 

Soon after the treaty of peace was concluded, the emperor landed in Italy with a numerous train of the Spanish nobility, and a considerable body of troops [Aug. 121]. He left the government of Spain, during his absence, to the empress Isabella. By his long residence in that country, he had acquired such thorough knowledge of the character of the people, that he could perfectly accommodate the maxims of his government to their genius. He could even assume, upon some occasions, such popular manners, as gained wonderfully upon the Spaniards. A striking instance of his disposition to gratify them had occurred a few days before he embarked for Italy: he was to make his public entry into the city of Barcelona; and some doubts having arisen among the inhabitants, whether they should receive him as emperor, or as count of Barcelona; Charles instantly decided in favor of the latter, declaring that he was more proud of that ancient title, than of his Imperial crown. Soothed with this flattering expression of his regard, the citizens welcomed him with acclamations of joy, and the states of the province swore allegiance to his son Philip, as heir of the county of Barcelona. A similar oath had been taken in all the kingdoms of Spain, with equal satisfaction.

The emperor appeared in Italy with the pomp and power of a conqueror. Ambassadors from all the princes and states of that country attended his court, waiting to receive his decision, with regard to their fate. At Genoa, where he first landed, he was received with the acclamations due to the protector of their liberties. Having honored Doria with many marks of distinction, and bestowed on the republic several new privileges, he proceeded to Bologna, the place fixed upon for his interview with the pope [Nov. 5]. He affected to unite in his public entry into that city the state and majesty that suited an emperor, with the humility becoming an obedient son of the church; and while at the head of twenty thousand veteran soldiers, able to give law to all Italy, he kneeled down to kiss the feet of that very pope whom he had so lately detained a prisoner. The Italians, after suffering so much from the ferocity and licentiousness of his armies, and after having been long accustomed to form in their imagination a picture of Charles, which bore some resemblance to that of the barbarous monarchs of the Goths or Huns, who had formerly afflicted their country with like calamities, were surprised to see a prince of a graceful appearance, affable and courteous in his deportment, of regular manners, and of exemplary attention to all the offices of religion. They were still more astonished when he settled all the concerns of the princes and states which now depended on him, with a degree of moderation and equity much beyond what they had expected.

Charles himself, when he set out from Spain, far from intending to give any such extraordinary proof of his self-denial, seems to have been resolved to avail himself to the utmost of the superiority which he had acquired in Italy. But various circumstances concurred in pointing out the necessity of pursuing a very different course. The progress of the Turkish sultan, who, after overrunning Hungary, had penetrated into Austria [Sept. 13], and laid siege to Vienna with an army of a hundred and fifty thousand men, loudly called upon him to collect his whole force to oppose that torrent; and though the valor of the Germans, the prudent conduct of Ferdinand, together with the treachery of the vizier [Oct. 16], soon obliged Solyman to abandon that enterprise with disgrace and loss, the religious disorders still growing in Germany, rendered the presence of the emperor highly necessary there.

The Florentines, instead of giving their consent to the re-establishment of the Medici, which, by the treaty of Barcelona, the emperor had bound himself to procure, were preparing to defend their liberty by force of arms; the preparations for his journey had involved him in unusual expenses; and on this as well as many other occasions, the multiplicity of his affairs, together with the narrowness of his revenues, obliged him to contract the schemes which his boundless ambition was apt to form, and to forego present and certain advantages, that he might guard against more remote but unavoidable dangers. Charles, from all these considerations, finding it necessary to assume an air of moderation, acted his part with a good grace. He admitted Sforza into his presence, and not only gave him a full pardon of all past offences, but granted him the investiture of the duchy, together with his niece the king of Denmark’s daughter in marriage. He allowed the duke of Ferrara to keep possession of all his dominions, adjusting the points in dispute between him and the pope with an impartiality not very agreeable to the latter. He came to a final accommodation with the Venetians, upon the reasonable condition of their restoring whatever they had usurped during the late war, either in the Neapolitan or papal territories. In return for so many concessions, he exacted considerable sums from each of the powers with whom he treated, which they paid without reluctance, and which afforded him the means of proceeding, on his journey towards Germany, with a magnificence suitable to his dignity.

1530.] These treaties, which restored tranquility to Italy after a tedious war, the calamities of which had chiefly affected that country, were published at Bologna with great solemnity on the first day of the year one thousand five bunched and thirty, amidst the universal acclamations of the people, applauding the emperor, to whose moderation and generosity, they ascribed the blessings of peace which they had so long desired. The Florentines alone did not partake of this general joy. Animated with a zeal for liberty more laudable than prudent, they determined to oppose the restoration of the Medici. The Imperial army had already entered their territories and formed the siege of their capital. But though deserted by all their allies, and left without any hope of succor, they defended themselves many months with an obstinate valor worthy of better success; and even when they surrendered, they obtained a capitulation which gave them hopes of securing some remains of their liberty. But the emperor, from his desire to gratify the pope, frustrated all their expectations, and abolishing their ancient form of government, raised Alexander di Medici to the same absolute dominion over that state, which his family hare retained to the present times. Philibert de Chalons, prince of Orange, the Imperial general, was killed during this siege. His estate and titles descended to his sister Claude de Chalons, who was married to René, count of Nassau, and she transmitted to her posterity of the house of Nassau the title of princes of Orange, which, by their superior talents and valor, they have rendered so illustrious.

After the publication of the peace at Bologna, and the ceremony of his coronation as king of Lombardy, and emperor of the Romans [Feb. 22 and 24], which the pope performed with the accustomed formalities, nothing detained Charles in Italy; and he began to prepare for his journey to Germany. His presence became every day more necessary in that country, and was solicited with equal importunity by the catholics and by the favorers of the new doctrines. During that long interval of tranquility, which the absence of the emperor, the contests between him and the pope, and his attention to the war with France, afforded them, the latter had gained much ground. Most of the princes who had embraced Luther’s opinions had not only established in their territories that form of worship which he approved, but had entirely suppressed the rights of the Romish church. Many of the free cities had imitated their conduct. Almost one half of the Germanic body had revolted from the papal see; and its authority, even in those provinces which had not hitherto shaken off the yoke, was considerably weakened, partly by the example of revolt in the neighboring states, partly by the secret progress of the reformed doctrine even in those countries where it was not openly embraced. Whatever satisfaction the emperor, while he was at open enmity with the see of Rome, might have felt in those events which tended to mortify and embarrass the pope, he could not help perceiving now, that the religious divisions in Germany would, in the end, prove extremely hurtful to the Imperial authority.

The weakness of former emperors had suffered the great vassals of the empire to make such successful encroachments upon their power and prerogative, that during the whole course of a war, which had often required the exertion of his utmost strength, Charles hardly drew any effectual aid from Germany, and found that magnificent titles or obsolete pretensions were almost the only advantages which he had gained by swaying the Imperial scepter. He became fully sensible, that if he did not recover in some degree the prerogatives which his pre­decessors had lost, and acquire the authority as well as possess the name, of head of the empire, his high dignity would contribute more to obstruct than to promote his ambitious schemes. Nothing, he saw, was more essential towards attaining this, than to suppress opinions which might form new bonds of confederacy among the princes of the empire, and unite them by ties stronger and more sacred than any political connection. Nothing seemed to lead more certainly to the accomplishment of his design, than to employ zeal for the established religion, of which he was the natural protector, as the instrument of extending his civil authority.

Accordingly, a prospect no sooner opened of coming to an accommodation with the pope, than, by the emperor's appointment, a diet of the empire was held at Spires, [March 15, 15291], in order to take into consideration the state of religion. The decree of the diet assembled there in the year one thousand five hundred and twenty-six, which was almost equivalent to a toleration of Luther’s opinions, had given great offence to the rest of Christendom. The greatest delicacy of address, however, was requisite in proceeding to any decision more rigorous. The minds of men kept in perpetual agitation by a controversy carried on, during twelve years, without intermission of debate, or abatement of zeal, were now inflamed to a high degree. They were accustomed to innovations, and saw the boldest of them successful. Having not only abolished old rites, but substituted new forms in their place, they were influenced as much by attachment to the system which they had embraced, as by aversion to that which they had abandoned. Luther himself, of a spirit not to be worn out by the length and obstinacy of the combat, or to become remiss upon success, continued the attack with as much rigor as he had begun it. His disciples, of whom many equaled him in zeal, and some surpassed him in learning, were no less capable than their master to conduct the controversy in the properest manner. Many of the laity, some even of the princes trained up amidst these incessant disputations, and in the habit of listening to the arguments of the contending parties, who alternately appealed to them as judges, came to be profoundly skilled in all the questions which were agitated, and, upon occasion, could show themselves not inexpert in any of the arts with which these theological encounters were managed. It was obvious from all these circumstances, that any violent decision of the diet must have immediately precipitated matters into confusion, and have kindled in Germany the flames of a religious war. All, therefore, that the archduke, and the other commissioners appointed by the emperor, demanded of the diet, was, to enjoin those states of the empire which had hitherto obeyed the decree issued against Luther at Worms, in the year one thousand five hundred and twenty-four, to persevere in the observation of it, and to prohibit the other states from attempting any farther innovation in religion, particularly from abolishing the mass, before the meeting of a general council. After much dispute, a decree to that effect was approved of by a majority of voices. 

The elector of Saxony, the marquis of Brandenburg, the landgrave of Hesse, the dukes of Lunenburg, the prince of Anhalt, together with the deputies of fourteen Imperial or free cities, entered a solemn protest against this decree, as unjust and impious [April 19]. On that account they were distinguished by the name of PROTESTANTS, an appellation which has since become better known, and more honorable, by its being applied indiscriminately to all the sects, of whatever denomination, which have revolted from the Roman see. Not satisfied with this declaration of their dissent from the decree of the diet, the protestants sent ambassadors into Italy, to lay their grievances before the emperor, from whom they met with the most discouraging reception. Charles was at that time in close union with the pope, and solicitous to attach him inviolably to his interest. During their long residence at Bologna, they held many consultations concerning the most effectual means of extirpating the heresies which had sprung up in Germany. Clement, whose cautious and timid mind the proposal of a general council filled with horror, even beyond what popes, the constant enemies of such assemblies, usually feel, employed every argument to dissuade the emperor from consenting to that measure. He represented general councils as factious, ungovernable, presumptuous, formidable to civil authority, and too slow in their operations to remedy disorders which required an immediate cure. Experience, he said, had now taught both the emperor and himself, that forbearance and lenity, instead of soothing the spirit of innovation, had rendered it more enterprising and presumptuous; it was necessary, therefore, to have recourse to the rigorous methods which such a desperate case required; Leo's sentence of excommunication, together with the decree of the diet at Worms, should be carried into execution, and it was incumbent on the emperor to employ his whole power, in order to overawe those, on whom the reverence due either to ecclesiastical or civil authority had no longer any influence. Charles, whose views were very different from the pope’s, and who became daily more sensible how obstinate and deep-rooted the evil was, thought of reconciling the protestants by means less violent, and considered the convocation of a council as no improper expedient for that purpose; but promised, if gentler arts failed of success, that then he would exert himself with rigor to reduce to the obedience of the holy see those stubborn enemies of the catholic faith.

Such were the sentiments with which the emperor set out for Germany, having already appointed a diet of the empire to be held at Augsburg [March 22, 1530]. In his journey towards the city, he had many opportunities of observing the disposition of the Germans with regard to the points in controversy, and found their minds everywhere so much irritated and inflamed, as convinced him, that nothing tending to severity or rigor ought to be attempted, until all other measures proved ineffectual. He made his public entry into Augsburg with extraordinary pomp [June 15], and found there such a full assembly of the members of the diet, as was suitable both to the importance of the affairs which were to come under their consideration, and to the honor of an emperor, who, after a long absence, returned to them crowned with reputation and success.

His presence seems to have communicated to all parties an unusual spirit of moderation and desire of peace. The elector of Saxony would not permit Luther to accompany him to the diet, lest he should offend the emperor by bringing, into his presence a person excommunicated by the pope, and who had been the author of all those dissensions which it now appeared so difficult to compose. At the emperor’s desire, all the protestant princes forbade the divines who accompanied them to preach in public during their residence at Augsburg. For the same reason they employed Melanchthon, the man of the greatest learning, as well as the most pacific and gentle spirit among the reformers, to draw up a confession of their faith, expressed in terms as little offensive to the Roman Catholics, as regard for truth would permit. Melanchthon, who seldom suffered the rancor of controversy to envenom his style, even in writings purely polemical, executed a task so agreeable to his natural disposition with great moderation and address. The creed which he composed, known by the name of the Confession of Augsburg, from the place where it was presented, was read publicly in the diet. Some popish divines were appointed to examine it; they brought in their animadversions; a dispute ensued between them and Melanchthon, seconded by some of his brethren; but though Melanchthon then softened some articles, made concessions with regard to others, and put the least exceptionable sense upon all; though the emperor himself labored with, great earnestness to reconcile the contending parties; so many marks of distinction were now established, and such insuperable barriers placed between the two churches, that all hopes of bringing about a coalition seemed utterly desperate.

From the divines, among whom his endeavors had been so unsuccessful, Charles turned to the princes their patrons. Nor did he find them, how desirous soever of accommodation, or willing to oblige the emperor, more disposed than the former to renounce their opinions. At that time zeal for religion took possession of the minds of men, to a degree which can scarcely be conceived by those that live in an age when the passions excited by the first manifestation of truth, and the first recovery of liberty, have in a great measure ceased to operate. This zeal was then of such strength as to overcome attachment to their political interest, which is commonly the predominant motive among princes.

The elector of Saxony, the landgrave of Hesse, and other chiefs of the protestants, though solicited separately by the emperor, and allured by the promise or prospect of those advantages which it was known they were most solicitous to attain, refused, with a fortitude highly worthy of imitation, to abandon what they deemed the cause of God, for the sake of any earthly acquisition. Every scheme in order to gain or disunite the protestant party proving abortive, nothing now remained for the emperor but to take some vigorous measures towards asserting the doctrines and authority of the established church. These, Campeggio, the papal nuncio, had always recommended as the only proper and effectual course of dealing with such obstinate heretics. In compliance with his opinions and remonstrances, the diet issued a decree [Nov. 19], condemning most of the peculiar tenets held by the protestants; Forbidding any person to protect or tolerate such as taught them; enjoining a strict observance of the established rites: and prohibiting any further innovation under severe penalties. All orders of men were required to assist with their persons and fortunes in carrying this decree into execution; and such as refused to obey it were declared incapable of acting as judges, or of appearing as parties in the Imperial chamber, the supreme court of judicature in the empire. To all which was subjoined a promise, that an application should be made to the pope, requiring him to call a general council within six months, in order to terminate all controversies by its sovereign decisions.

 

LEAGUE OF SMALKALDE AND RETREAT OF SOLYMAN

 

The severity of this decree, which was considered as a prelude to the most violent persecutions, alarmed the protestants, and convinced them that the emperor was resolved on their destruction. The dread of those calamities which were ready to fall on the church, oppressed the feeble spirit of Melanchthon; and, as if the cause had already been desperate, he gave himself up to melancholy and lamentation. But Luther, who during the meeting of the diet had endeavored to confirm and animate his party by several treatises which he addressed to them, was not disconcerted or dismayed at the prospect of this new danger. He comforted Melanchthon, and his other desponding disciples, and exhorted the princes not to abandon those truths which they had lately asserted with such laudable boldness. His exhortations made the deeper impression, upon them, as they were greatly alarmed at that time by the account of a combination among the popish princes of the empire for the maintenance of the established religion, to which Charles himself had acceded. This convinced them that it was necessary to stand on their guard; and that their own safety, as well as the success of their cause, depended on union. Filled with this dread of the adverse party, and with these sentiments concerning the conduct proper for themselves, they assembled at Smalkalde. There they concluded a league of mutual defence against all agressors [Dec. 221], by which they formed the protestant states of the empire into one regular body, and beginning already to consider themselves as such, they resolved to apply to the kings of France and England, and to implore them to patronize and assist their new confederacy.

An affair not connected with religion furnished them with a pretence for courting the aid of foreign princes. Charles, whose ambitious views enlarged in proportion to the increase of his power and grandeur, had formed a scheme of continuing the Imperial crown in his family, by procuring his brother Ferdinand to be elected king of the romans. The present juncture was favorable for the execution of that design. The emperor's arms had been everywhere victorious; he had given law to all Europe at the late peace; no rival now remained in a condition to balance or to control him; and the electors, dazzled with the splendor of his success, or overawed by the greatness of his power, durst scarcely dispute the will of a prince, whose solicitations carried with them the authority of commands. Nor did he want plausible reasons to enforce the measure. The affairs of his other kingdoms, he said, obliged him to be often absent from Germany; the growing disorders occasioned by the controversies about religion, as well as the formidable neighborhood of the Turks, who continually threatened to break in with their desolating armies into the heart of the empire, required the constant presence of a prince endowed with prudence capable of composing the former, and with power as well as valor sufficient to repel the latter. His brother Ferdinand possessed these qualities in an eminent degree; by residing long in Germany, he had acquired a thorough knowledge of its constitution and manners; having been present almost from the first rise of the religious dissensions, he knew what remedies were most proper, what the Germans could bear, and how to apply them; as his own dominions lay on the Turkish frontier, he was the natural defender of Germans against the invasions of the infidels, being prompted by interest no less than he would be bound in duty to oppose them.

These arguments made little impression on the protestants. Experience taught them, that nothing had contributed more to the undisturbed progress of their opinions, than the interregnum after Maximilian’s death, the long absence of Charles, and the slackness of the reins of government which these occasioned. Conscious of the advantages which their cause had derived from this relaxation of government, they were unwilling to render it more vigorous, by giving themselves a new and a fixed master. They perceived clearly the extent of Charles’s ambition, that he aimed at rendering the Imperial crown hereditary in his family, and would of course establish in the empire an absolute dominion, to which elective princes could not have aspired with equal facility. They determined therefore to oppose the election of Ferdinand with the utmost vigor, and to rouse their countrymen, by their example and exhortations, to withstand this encroachment on their liberties. The elector of Saxony, accordingly, not only refused to be present at the electoral college, which the emperor summoned to meet at Cologne [January 5, 1531], but instructed his eldest son to appear there, and to protest against the election as informal, illegal, contrary to the articles of the golden bull, and subversive of the liberties of the empire. But the other electors, whom Charles had been at great pains to gain, without regarding either his absence or protest, chose Ferdinand king of the Romans, who a few days after was crowned at Aix-la­Chapelle.

When the protestants, who were assembled a second time at Smalkalde, received an account of this transaction, and heard at the same time, that prosecutions were commenced, in the Imperial chamber, against some of their number, on account of their religious principles, they thought it necessary, not only to renew their former confederacy, but immediately to dispatch their ambassadors into France and England [Feb. 29]. Francis had observed, with all the jealousy of a rival, the reputation which the emperor had acquired by his seeming disinterestedness and moderation in settling the affairs of Italy; and beheld with great concern the successful step which he had taken towards perpetuating and extending his authority in Germany by the election of a king of the Romans. Nothing, however, would have been more impolitic than to precipitate his kingdom into a new war when exhausted by extraordinary efforts, and discouraged by ill success, before it had got time to recruit its strength, or to forget past misfortunes. As no provocation had been given by the emperor, and hardly a pretext for a rupture had been afforded him, he could not violate a treaty, a peace which he himself had so lately solicited, without forfeiting the esteem of all Europe, and being detested as a prince void of probity and honor. He observed, with great joy, powerful factions beginning to form in the empire; he listened with the utmost eagerness to the complaints of the protestant princes, and, without seeming to countenance their religious opinions, determined secretly to cherish those sparks of political discord which might be afterwards kindled into a flame. For this purpose, he sent William de Bellay, one of the ablest negotiators in France, into Germany, who, visiting the courts of the malecontent princes, and heightening their ill humor by various arts, concluded an alliance between them and his master, which, though concealed at that time, and productive of no immediate effects, laid the foundation of a union fatal en many occasions to Charles's ambitious Projects; and showed the discontented princes of Germany, where, for the future, they might find a protector no less able than willing to undertake their defence against the encroachments of the emperor.

The king of England, highly incensed against Charles, in complaisance to whom the pope had long retarded, and now openly opposed his divorce, was no less disposed than Francis to strengthen a league which might be rendered so formidable to the emperor. But his favorite project of the divorce led him into such a labyrinth of schemes and negotiations. and he was, at the same time, so intent on abolishing the papal jurisdiction in England, that he had no leisure for foreign affairs. This obliged him to rest satisfied with giving general promises, together with a small supply in money, to the confederates of Smalkalde.

Meanwhile, many circumstances convinced Charles that this was not a juncture when the extirpation of heresy was to be attempted by violence and rigor; that in compliance with the pope's inclinations, he had already proceeded with imprudent precipitation; and that it was more his interest to consolidate Germany into one united and vigorous body, than to divide and enfeeble it by a civil war. The protestants, who were considerable as well by their numbers as by their zeal, had acquired additional weight and importance by their joining in that confederacy into which the rash steps taken at Augsburg had forced them. Having now discovered their own strength, they despised the decisions of the Imperial chamber; and being secure of foreign protection, were ready to set the head of the empire at defiance.

At the same time the peace with France was precarious, the friendship of an irresolute and interested pontiff was not to be relied on; and Solyman, in order to repair the discredit and loss which his arms had sustained in the former campaign, was preparing to enter Austria with more numerous forces. On all these accounts, especially the last, a speedy accommodation with the malcontent princes became necessary; not only for the accomplishment of his future schemes, but for ensuring his present safety. Negotiations were, accordingly, carried on by his direction with the elector of Saxony and his associates; after many delays, occasioned by their jealousy of the emperor, and of each other, after innumerable difficulties, arising from the inflexible nature of religious tenets, which cannot admit of being altered, modified, or relinquished in the same manner as points of political interest, terms of pacification were agreed upon at Nuremberg [July 23], and ratified solemnly in the diet at Ratisbon [Aug. 31]. In this treaty it was stipulated.

That universal peace be established in Germany, until the meeting of a general council, the convocation of which within six months the emperor shall endeavor to procure;

That no person shall be molested on account of religion;

That a stop shall be put to all processes begun by the Imperial chamber against protestants, and the sentences already passed to their detriment shall be declared void.

On their part, the protestants engaged to assist the emperor with all their forces in resisting the invasion of the Turks. Thus, by their firmness in adhering to their principles, by the unanimity with which they urged all their claims, and by their dexterity in availing themselves of the emperor's situation, the protestants obtained terms which amounted almost to a toleration of their religion; all the concessions were made by Charles, none by them; even the favorite point of their approving his brother's election was not mentioned; and the protestants of Germany, who had hitherto been viewed only as a religious sect, came henceforth to be considered as a political body of no small consequence.

1532.] The intelligence which Charles received of Solyman’s having entered Hungary at the head of three hundred thousand men, brought the deliberations of the diet at Ratisbon to a period; the contingent both of troops and money, which each prince was to furnish towards the defence of the empire, having been already settled. The protestants, as a testimony of their gratitude to the emperor, exerted themselves with extraordinary zeal, and brought into the field forces which exceeded in number the quota imposed on them; the catholics imitating their example, one of the greatest and best appointed armies that had ever been levied in Germany, assembled near Vienna. Being joined by a body of Spanish and Italian veterans under the marquis del Guasto; by some heavy armed cavalry from the Low-Countries; and by the troops which Ferdinand had raised in Bohemia, Austria, and his other territories, it amounted in all to ninety thousand disciplined foot, and thirty thousand horse, besides a prodigious swarm of irregulars. Of this vast army, worthy the first prince in Christendom, the emperor took the command in person, and mankind waited in suspense the issue of a decisive battle between the two greatest monarchs in the world. But each of them dreading the other’s power and good fortune, they both conducted their operations with such excessive caution, that a campaign, for which such immense preparations had been made, ended without any memorable event [September and October]. Solyman, finding it impossible to gain ground upon an enemy always attentive and on his guard, marched back to Constantinople towards the end of autumn. It is remarkable, that in such a martial age, when every gentleman was a soldier, and every prince a general, this was the first time that Charles, who had already carried on such extensive wars, and gained so many victories, appeared at the head of his troops. In this first essay of his arms, to have opposed such a leader as Solyman was no small honor; to have obliged him to retreat, merited very considerable praise.

 

HENRY IS DECLARED GODHEAD

 

About the beginning of this campaign, the elector of Saxony died [Aug. 16], and was succeeded by his son John Frederick. The reformation rather gained than lost by that event; the new elector, no less attached than his predecessors to the opinions of Luther, occupied the station which they had held at the head of the protestant party, and defended, with the bold­ness and zeal of youth, that cause which they had fostered and reared with the caution of more advanced age.

Immediately after the retreat of the Turks, Charles, impatient to revisit Spain, set out on his way thither, for Italy. As he was extremely desirous of an interview with the pope, they met a second time at Bologna, with the same external demonstrations of respect and friendship, but with little of that confidence which had subsisted between them during their late negotiations there. Clement was much dissatisfied with the emperor’s proceedings at Augsburg; his concessions with regard to the speedy convocation of a council, having more than cancelled all the merit of the severe decree against the doctrines of the reformers. The toleration granted to the protestants at Ratisbon, and the more explicit promise concerning a council, with which it was accompanied, had irritated him still farther. Charles, however, partly from conviction that the meeting of a council would be attended with salutary effects, and partly from his desire to please the Germans, having solicited the pope by his ambassadors to call that assembly without delay, and now urging the same thing in person, Clement was greatly embarrassed what reply he should make to a request which it was indecent to refuse, and dangerous to grant. He endeavored at first to divert Charles from the measure; but, finding him inflexible, he had recourse to artifices, which he knew would delay, if not entirely defeat, the calling of that assembly. Under the plausible pretext of its being previously necessary to settle, with all parties concerned, the place of the council's meeting; the manner of its proceedings; the right of the persons who should be admitted to vote, and the authority of their decisions; he despatched a nuncio, accompanied by an ambassador from the emperor, to the elector of Saxony as head of the protestants. With regard to each of these articles, inextricable difficulties and contests arose. The protestants demanded a council to be held in Germany; the pope insisted that it should meet in Italy: they contended that all points in dispute should be determined by the words of holy scripture alone; he considered not only the decrees of the church, but the opinions of fathers and doctors, as of equal authority; they required a free council, in which the divines, commissioned by different churches, should be allowed a voice; he aimed at modeling the council in such a manner as would render it entirely dependent on his pleasure. Above all, the protestants thought it unreasonable that they should hind themselves to submit to the decrees of a council, before they knew on what principles these decrees were to be founded, by what persons they were to be pronounced, and what forms of proceeding they would observe. The pope maintained it to be altogether unnecessary to call a council, if those who demanded it did not previously declare their resolution to acquiesce in its decrees. In order to adjust such a variety of points, many expedients were proposed, and the negotiations spun out to such a length, as effectually answered Clement’s purpose of putting off the meeting of a council, without drawing on himself the whole infamy of obstructing a measure which all Europe deemed so essential to the good of the church.

Together with this negotiation about calling a council, the emperor carried on another, which he had still more at heart, for securing the peace established in Italy. As Francis had renounced his pretensions in that country with great reluctance, Charles made no doubt but that he would lay hold on the first pretext afforded him, or embrace the first opportunity which presented itself, of recovering what he had lost. It became necessary on this account to take measures for assembling an army able to oppose him. As his treasury, drained by a long war, could not supply the sums requisite for keeping such a body constantly on foot, he attempted to throw that burden upon his allies, and to provide for the safety of his own dominions, at their expense, by proposing that the Italian states should enter into a league of defence against all invaders; that, on the first appearance of danger, an army should be raised and maintained at the common charge; and that Antonio de Leyva should be appointed the generalissimo. Nor was the proposal unacceptable to Clement, though for a reason very different from that which induced the emperor to make it. He hoped by this expedient, to deliver Italy from the German and Spanish veterans, which had so long filled all the powers in that country with terror, and still kept them in subjection to the Imperial yoke. A league was accordingly concluded [Feb. 24, 1533]; all the Italian states, the Venetians excepted, acceded to it the sum which each of the contracting parties should furnish towards maintaining the army was fixed; the emperor agreed to withdraw the troops which gave so much umbrage to his allies, and which he was unable any longer to support. Having disbanded part of them, and removed the rest to Sicily and Spain, he embarked on board Doria’s galleys, and arrived at Barcelona [April 22].

Notwithstanding all his precautions for securing the peace of Germany, and maintaining that system which he had established in Italy, the emperor became every day more and more apprehensive that both would he soon disturbed by the intrigues or arms of the French king. His apprehensions were well founded, as nothing but the desperate situation of his affairs could have brought Francis to give his consent to a treaty so dishonorable and disadvantageous as that of Cambray: he, at the very time of ratifying it, had formed a resolution to observe it no longer than necessity compelled him, and took a solemn protest, though with the most profound secrecy, against several articles in the treaty, particularly that whereby he renounced all pretensions to the duchy of Milan as unjust, injurious to his heirs, and invalid. One of the crown lawyers, by his command, entered a protest to the same purpose, and with the like secrecy, when the ratification of the treaty was registered in the parliament of Paris. Francis seems to have thought that, by employing an artifice unworthy of a king, destructive of public faith, and of the mutual confidence on which all transactions between nations are founded, he was released from any obligation to perform the most solemn promises, or to adhere to the most sacred engagements. From the moment he concluded the peace of Cambray, he wished and watched for an opportunity of violating it with safety. He endeavored for that reason to strengthen his alliance with the king of England, whose friendship he cultivated with the greatest assiduity. He put the military force of his own kingdom on a better and more respectable footing than ever. He artfully fomented the jealousy and discontent of the German princes.

But above all, Francis labored to break the strict confederacy which subsisted between Charles and Clement; and he had soon the satisfaction to observe the appearances of disgust and alienation arising in the mind of that suspicious and interested pontiff, which gave him hopes that their union would not be lasting. As the emperor's decision in favor of the duke of Ferrara had greatly irritated the pope, Francis aggravated the injustice of that proceeding, and flattered Clement that the papal see would find in him a more impartial and no less powerful protector. As the importunity with which Charles demanded a council was extremely offensive to the pope, Francis artfully created obstacles to prevent it, and attempted to divert the German princes, his allies, from insisting so obstinately on that point. As the emperor had gained such an ascendant over Clement by contributing to aggrandize his family, Francis endeavored to allure him by the same irresistible bait, proposing a marriage between his second son Henry duke of Orleans, and Catharine, the daughter of the pope’s cousin Laurence di Medici. On the first overture of this match, the emperor could not persuade himself that Francis really intended to debase the royal blood of France, by an alliance with Catharine, whose ancestors had been so lately private citizens and merchants in Florence, and believed that he meant only to flatter or amuse the ambitious pontiff. He thought it ne­cessary, however, to efface the impression which such a dazzling offer might have made, by promising to break off the marriage which had been agreed on between his own niece the king of Denmark's daughter, and the duke of Milan, and to substitute Catharine in her place. But the French ambassador producing unexpectedly full powers to conclude the marriage treaty with the Duke of Orleans, this expedient had no effect. Clement was so highly pleased with an honor which added such luster and dignity to the house of Medici, that he offered to grant Catharine the investiture of considerable territories in Italy, by way of portion; he seemed ready to support Francis in prosecuting his ancient claims in that country, and consented to a personal interview with that monarch.

Charles was at the utmost pains to prevent a meeting, in which nothing was likely to pass but what would be of detriment to him; nor could he bear, after he had twice condescended to visit the pope in his own territories, that Clement should bestow such a mark of distinction on his rival, as to venture on a voyage by sea, at an unfavorable season, in order to pay court to Francis in the French dominions. But the pope’s eagerness to accomplish the match overcame all the scruples of pride, or fear, or jealousy, which would probably have influenced him on any other occasion. The interview, notwithstanding several artifices of the emperor to prevent it, took place at Marseilles with extraordinary pomp, and demonstrations of confidence on both sides [October], and the marriage, which the ambition and abilities of Catharine rendered in the sequel as pernicious to France, as it was then thought dishonorable, was consummated. But whatever schemes may have been secretly concerted by the pope and Francis in favor of the duke of Orleans, to whom his father proposed to make over all his rights in Italy; so careful were they to avoid giving any cause of offence to the emperor, that no treaty was concluded between them; and even in the marriage-articles, Catharine renounced all claims and pretensions in Italy, except to the duchy of Urbino.

But at the very time when he was carrying on these negotiations, and forming this connection with Francis, which gave so great umbrage to the emperor, such was the artifice and duplicity of Clement’s character, that he suffered the latter to direct all his proceedings with regard to the king of England, and was no less attentive to gratify him in that particular, than if the most cordial union had still subsisted between them. Henry's suit for a divorce had now continued near six years; during all which period the pope negotiated, promised, retracted, and concluded nothing. After bearing repeated delays and disappointments longer than could have been expected from a prince of such a choleric and impetuous temper, the patience of Henry was at last so much exhausted, that he applied to another tribunal for that decree which he had solicited in vain at Rome. Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, by a sentence founded on the authority of universities, doctors, and rabbles, who had been consulted with respect to the point, annulled the king's marriage with Catharine; her daughter was declared illegitimate; and Anne Boleyn acknowledged as queen of England.

At the same time Henry began not only to neglect and to threaten the pope, whom he had hitherto courted, but to make innovations in the church, of which he had formerly been such a zealous defender. Clement, who had already seen so many provinces and kingdoms revolt from the holy see, became apprehensive at last that England might imitate their example, and partly from his solicitude to prevent that fatal blow, partly in compliance with the French king's solicitations, determined to give Henry such satisfaction as might still retain him within the bosom of the church [March 23]. But the violence of the cardinals, devoted to the emperor, did not allow the pope leisure for executing this prudent resolution, and hurried him, with a precipitation fatal to the Roman see, to issue a bull rescinding Cranmer's sentence, confirming Henry’s marriage with Catharine, and declaring him excommunicated, if, within a time specified, he did not abandon the wife he had taken, and return to her whom he had deserted.

 

Enraged at this unexpected decree, Henry kept no longer any measures with the court of Rome; his subjects seconded his resentment and indignation; an act of parliament was passed, abolishing the papal power and jurisdiction in England; by another, the king was declared supreme head of the church, and all the authority of which the popes were deprived was vested in him. That vast fabric of ecclesiastical dominion which had been raised with such art, and of which the foundations seemed to have been laid so deep, being no longer supported by the veneration of the people, was overturned in a moment. Henry himself, with the caprice peculiar to his character, continued to defend the doctrines of the Romish church as fiercely as he attacked its jurisdiction. He alternately persecuted the protestants for rejecting the former, and the Catholics for acknowledging the latter. But his subjects, being once permitted to enter into new paths, did not choose to stop short at the precise point prescribed by him. Having been encouraged by his example to bleak some of their fetters, they were so impatient to shake off what still remained that, in the following reign, with the applause of the greater part of the nation, a total separation was made from the church of Rome in articles of doctrine, as well as in matters of discipline and jurisdiction.

A short delay might have saved the see of Rome from all the unhappy consequences of Clement’s rashness. Soon after his sentence against Henry, he fell into a languishing distemper, which gradually wasting his constitution, put an end to his pontificate [Sept. 25], the most unfortunate, both during its continuance, and by its effects, that the church had known for many ages. The very day on which the cardinals entered the conclave [Oct. 13], they raised to the papal throne Alexander Farnese, dean of the sacred college, and the oldest member of that body, who assumed the name of Paul III. The account of his promotion was received with extraordinary acclamations of joy by the people of Rome, highly pleased, after an interval of more than a hundred years, to see the crown of St. Peter placed on the head of a Roman citizen. Persons more capable of judging, formed a favorable presage of his administration, from the experience which he had acquired under four pontificates, as well as the character of prudence and moderation which he had uniformly maintained in a station of great eminence, and during an active period that required both talents and address.

Europe, it is probable, owed the continuance of its peace to the death of Clement; for although no traces remain in history of any league concluded between him and Francis, it is scarcely to be doubted but that he would have seconded the operations of the French arms in Italy, that he might have gratified his ambition by seeing one of his family possessed of the supreme power in Florence, and another in Milan. But upon the election of Paul III who had hitherto adhered uniformly to the Imperial interest, Francis found it necessary to suspend his operations for some time, and to put off the commencement of hostilities against the emperor, on which, before the death of Clement, he had been fully determined.

 

THE KINGDOM OF THE ANABAPTISTS

 

While Francis waited for an opportunity to renew a war which had hitherto proved so fatal to himself and his subjects, a transaction of a very singular nature was carried on in Germany. Among many beneficial and salutary effects of which the reformation was the immediate cause, it was attended, as must be the case in all actions and events wherein men are concerned, with some consequences of an opposite nature. When the human mind is roused by grand objects, and agitated by strong passions, its operations acquire such force, that they are apt to become irregular and extravagant.

Upon any great revolution in religion, such irregularities abound most, at that particular period, when men, having thrown off the authority of their ancient principles, do not yet fully comprehend the nature, or feel the obligation of those new tenets which they have embraced. The mind in that situation, pushing forward with the boldness which prompted it to reject established opinions, and not guided by a clear knowledge of the system substituted in their place, disdains all restraint, and runs into wild notions, which often lead to scandalous or immoral conduct.

Thus, in the first ages of the Christian church, many of the new converts having renounced their ancient systems of religious faith, and being but imperfectly acquainted, with the doctrines and precepts of Christianity, broached the most extravagant opinions, equally subversive of piety and virtue; all which errors disappeared or were exploded when the knowledge of religion increased, and came to be more generally diffused. In like manner, soon after Luther’s appearance, the rashness or ignorance of some of his disciples led them to publish tenets no less absurd than pernicious, which being proposed to men extremely illiterate, but fond of novelty, and at a time when their minds were occupied chiefly with religious speculations, gained too easy credit and authority among them. To these causes must be imputed the extravagances of Muntzer, in the year one thousand five hundred and twenty-five, as well as the rapid progress which his opinions made among the peasants; but though the insurrection excited by that fanatic was soon suppressed, several of his followers lurked in different places, and endeavored privately to propagate his opinions.

In those provinces of Upper Germany, which had already been so cruelly wasted by their enthusiastic rage, the magistrates watched their motions with such severe attention, that many of them found it necessary to retire into other countries, some were punished, others driven into exile, and their errors were entirely rooted out. But in the Netherlands and Westphalia, where the pernicious tendency of their opinions was more unknown, and guarded against with less care, they got admittance into several towns, and spread the infection of their principles.

The most remarkable of their religious tenets related to the sacrament of baptism, which, as they contended, ought to be administered only to persons grown up to years of understanding, and should be performed not by sprinkling them with water, but by dipping them in it; for this reason they condemned the baptism of infants, and rebaptising all whom they admitted into their society, the sect came to be distinguished by the name of Anabaptists. To this peculiar notion concerning baptism, which has the appearance of being founded on the practice of the church in the apostolic age, and contains nothing inconsistent with the peace and order of human society, they added other principles of a most enthusiastic as well as dangerous nature.

They maintained that, among Christians who had the precepts of the gospel to direct, and the Spirit of God to guide them, the office of magistracy was not only unnecessary, but an unlawful encroachment on their spiritual liberty; that the distinctions occasioned by birth, or rank, or wealth, being contrary to the spirit of the gospel, which considers all men as equal, should be entirely abolished; that all Christians, throwing their possessions into one common stock, should live together in that state of equality, which becomes members of the same family; that as neither the laws of nature, nor the precepts of the New Testament, had imposed any restraints upon men with regard to the number of wives which they might marry, they should use that liberty which God himself had granted to the patriarchs.

Such opinions, propagated and maintained with enthusiastic zeal and boldness, were not long without producing the violent effects natural to them. Two Anabaptist prophets, John Matthias, a baker of Haerlem, and John Boccold, or Beukels, a journeyman tailor of Leyden, possessed with the rage of making proselytes, fixed their residence at Munster, an Imperial city in Westphalia, of the first rank, under the sovereignty of its bishop, but governed by its own senate and consuls. As neither of these fanatics wanted the talents requisite in desperate enterprises, great resolution, the appearance of sanctity, bold pretensions to inspiration, and a confident and plausible manner of discoursing, they soon gained many converts. Among these were Rothman, who had first preached the protestant doctrine in Munster, and Cnipperdoling, a citizen of good birth and considerable eminence. Emboldened by the countenance of such disciples, they openly taught their opinions; and not satisfied with that liberty, they made several attempts, though without success, to become masters of the town, in order to get their tenets established by public authority. At last, having secretly called in their associates from the neighboring country, they suddenly took possession of the arsenal and senate house in the night time, and running through the streets with drawn swords, and horrible howlings, cried out alternately, “Repent and be baptized”, and “Depart ye ungodly”. The senators, the canons, the nobility, together with the more sober citizens, whether papists or protestants, terrified at their threats and outcries, fled in confusion, and left the city under the dominion of a frantic multitude, consisting chiefly of strangers [February.] Nothing now remaining to overawe or control them, they set about modeling the government according to their own wild ideas : and though at first they showed so much reverence for the ancient constitution, as to elect senators of their own sect, and to appoint Cnipperdoling and another proselyte consuls, this was nothing more than form; for all their proceedings were directed by Matthias, who, in the style, and with the authority of a prophet, uttered his commands, which it was instant death to disobey. Having begun with encouraging the multitude to pillage the churches, and deface their ornaments; he enjoined them to destroy all books except the bible, as useless or impious; he ordered the estates of such as fled to be confiscated and sold to the inhabitants of the adjacent country; he commanded every man to bring forth his gold and silver, and other precious effects, and to lay them at his feet; the wealth amassed by these means he deposited in a public treasury, and named deacons to dispense it for the common use of all.

The members of this commonwealth being thus brought to perfect equality, he commanded all of them to eat at tables prepared in public, and even prescribed the dishes which were to be served up each day. Having finished this plan of reformation, his next for was to provide for the defence of the city; and he took measures for that purpose. with a prudence which savored nothing of fanaticism. He collected large magazines of every kind; he repaired and extended the fortifications, obliging every person without distinction to work in his turn; he formed such as were capable of bearing arms into regular bodies, and endeavored to add the stability of discipline to the impetuosity of enthusiasm. He sent emissaries to the Anabaptists in the Low-Countries, inviting them to assemble at Munster, which he dignified with the name of Mount Sion, that from thence they might set out to reduce all the nations of the earth under their dominion. He himself was unwearied in attending to everything necessary for the security or increase of the sect; animating his disciples by his own example to decline no labor, as well as to submit to every hardship; and their enthusiastic passions being kept from subsiding by a perpetual succession of exhortations, revelations, and prophecies, they seemed ready to undertake or to suffer any thing in maintenance of their opinions.

While they were thus employed, the bishop of Munster having assembled a considerable army, advanced to besiege the town. On his approach, Matthias sallied out at the head of some chosen troops, attacked one quarter of his camp, forced it, and after great slaughter returned to the city loaded with glory and spoil. Intoxicated with this success, he appeared next day brandishing a spear, and declared, that, in imitation of Gideon, he would go forth with a handful of men and smite the host of the ungodly. Thirty persons whom he named, followed him without hesitation in this wild enterprise [May], and, rushing on the enemy with frantic courage, were cut off to a man. The death of their prophet occasioned at first great consternation among his disciples; but Boccold, by the same gifts and pretensions which had gained Matthias credit, soon revived their spirits and hopes to such a degree, that he succeeded the deceased prophet in the same absolute direction of all their affairs. As he did not possess that enterprising courage which distinguished his predecessor, he satisfied himself with carrying on a defensive war; and without attempting to annoy the enemy by sallies, he waited for the succors he expected from the Low-Countries, the arrival of which was often foretold and promised by their prophets. But though less daring in action than Matthias, he was a wilder enthusiast, and of more unbounded ambition.

Soon after the death of his predecessor, having, by obscure visions and prophecies, prepared the multitude for some extraordinary event, he stripped himself naked, and, marching through the streets, proclaimed with a loud voice, “That the kingdom of Sion was at hand; that whatever was highest on earth should be brought low, and whatever was lowest should be exalted”. In order to fulfill this, he commanded the churches, as the most lofty buildings in the city, to be levelled with the ground; he degraded the senators chosen by Matthias, and depriving Cnipperdoling of the consulship, the highest office in the commonwealth, appointed him to execute the lowest and most infamous, that of common hangman, to which strange transition the other agreed, not only without murmuring, but with the utmost joy; and such was the despotic rigor of Boccold’s administration, that he was called almost every day to perform some duty or other of his wretched function. In place of the deposed senators, he named twelve judges, according to the number of tribes in Israel, to preside in all affairs; retaining to himself the same authority which Moses anciently possessed as legislator of that people.

Not satisfied, however, with power or titles, which were not supreme, a prophet whom he had gained and tutored, having called the multitude together, declared it to be the will of God, that John Boccold should be king of Sion, and sit on the throne of David. John kneeling down, accepted of the heavenly call [June 24], which he solemnly protested had been revealed likewise to himself, and was immediately acknowledged as monarch by the deluded multitude. From that moment he assumed all the state and pomp of royalty. He wore a crown of gold, and was clad in the richest and most sumptuous garments. A bible was carried on his one hand, a naked sword on the other. A great body of guards accompanied him when he appeared in public. He coined money stamped with his own image, and appointed the great officers of his household and kingdom, among whom Cnipperdoling was nominated governor of the city, as a reward for his former submission.

Having now attained the height of power, Boccold began to discover passions, which he had hitherto restrained, or indulged only in secret. As the excesses of enthusiasm have been observed in every age to lead to sensual gratifications, the same constitution that is susceptible of the former, being remarkably prone to the latter, he instructed the prophets and teachers to harangue the people for several days concerning the lawfulness, and even the necessity, of taking more wives than one, which they asserted to be one of the privileges granted by God to the saints. When their ears were once accustomed to this licentious doctrine, and their passions inflamed with the prospect of such unbounded indulgence, he himself set them an example of using what he called their Christian liberty, by marrying at once three wives, among which the widow of Matthias, a woman of singular beauty, was one. As he was allured by beauty, or the love of variety, he gradually added to the number of his wives, until they amounted to fourteen, though the widow of Matthias was the only one dignified with the title of Queen, or who shared with him the splendor and ornaments of royalty. After the example of their prophet, the multitude gave themselves up to the most licentious and uncontrolled gratification of their desires. No man remained satisfied with a single wife. Not to use their Christian liberty was deemed a crime. Persons were appointed to search the houses for young women grown up to maturity, whom they instantly compelled to many. Together with polygamy, freedom of divorce, its inseparable attendant, was introduced, and became a new source of corruption. Every excess was committed, of which the passions of men are capable, when restrained neither by the authority of laws nor the sense of decency; and by a monstrous and almost incredible conjunction, voluptuousness was engrafted on religion, and dissolute riot accompanied the austerities of fanatical devotion.

Meanwhile the German princes were highly offended at the insult offered to their dignity by Boccold’s presumptuous usurpation of royal honors; and the profligate manners of his followers, which were a reproach to the Christian name, filled men of all professions with horror. Luther, who had testified against this fanatical spirit on its first appearance, now deeply lamented its progress, and having exposed the delusion with great strength of argument, as well as acrimony of style, called loudly on all the states of Germany to put a stop to a frenzy no less pernicious to society, than fatal to religion. The emperor, occupied with other cares and projects, had not leisure to attend to such a distant object; but the princes of the empire assembled by the king of the Romans, voted a supply of men and money to the bishop of Munster, who being unable to keep a sufficient army on foot, had converted the siege of the town into a blockade [1535]. The forces raised in consequence of this resolution, were put under the command of an officer of experience, who approaching the town towards the end of spring, in the year 1535, pressed it more closely than formerly; but found the fortifications so strong, and so diligently guarded, that he durst not attempt an assault.

It was now about fifteen months since the Anabaptists had established their dominion in Munster; they had during that time undergone prodigious fatigue in working on the fortifications, and performing military duty. Notwithstanding the prudent attention of their king to provide for their subsistence, and his frugal as well as regular economy in their public meals, they began to feel the approach of famine [May]. Several small bodies of their brethren, who were advancing to their assistance from the Low-Countries, had been intercepted and cut to pieces; and while all Germany was ready to combine against them, they had no prospect of succor. But such was the ascendant which Boccold had acquired over the multitude, and so powerful the fascination of enthusiasm, that their hopes were as sanguine as ever, and they hearkened with implicit credulity to the visions and predictions of their prophets, who assured them that the Almighty would speedily interpose in order to deliver the city. The faith, however, of some few, shaken by the violence and length of their sufferings, began to fail; but being suspected of an inclination to surrender to the enemy, they were punished with immediate death, as guilty of impiety in distrusting the power of God. One of the king’s wives, having uttered certain words which implied some doubt concerning his divine mission, he instantly called the whole number together, and commanding the blasphemer, as he called her, to kneel down, cut off her head with his own hands; and so far were the rest from expressing any horror at this cruel deed, that they joined him in dancing with a frantic joy around the bleeding body of their companion.

By this time [June 1], the besieged endured the utmost rigor of famine; but they chose rather to suffer hardships, the recital of which is shocking to humanity, than to listen to the terms of capitulation offered them by the bishop. At last, a deserter, whom they had taken into their service, being either less intoxicated with the fumes of enthusiasm, or unable any longer to bear such distress, made his escape to the enemy. He informed their general of a weak part in the fortifications which he had observed, and assuring him that the besieged, exhausted with hunger and fatigue, kept watch there with little care; he offered to lead a party thither in the night. The proposal was accepted, and a chosen body of troops appointed for the service; who, scaling the walls unperceived, seized one of the gates, and admitted the rest of the army.

The Anabaptists, though surprised, defended themselves in the market-place with valor, heightened by despair; but being overpowered by numbers, and surrounded on every hand, most of them were slain, and the remainder taken prisoners [June 24].

Among the last were the king and Cnipperdoling. The king, loaded with chains, was carried from city to city as a spectacle to gratify the curiosity of the people, and was exposed to all their insults. His spirit, however, was not broken or humbled by this sad reverse of his condition; and he adhered with unshaken firmness to the distinguishing tenets of his sect. After this, he was brought back to Munster, the scene of his royalty and crimes, and put to death with the most exquisite as well as lingering tortures, all which he bore with astonishing fortitude. This extraordinary man, who bad been able to acquire such amazing dominion over the minds of his followers, and to excite commotion so dangerous to society, was only twenty-six years of age.

Together with its monarch, the kingdom of the Anabaptists came to an end. Their principles having taken deep root in the Low-Countries, the party still subsists there, under the name of Mennonites; but by a very singular revolution, this sect, so mutinous arid sanguinary at its first origin, hath become altogether innocent and pacific. Holding it unlawful to wage war, or to accept of civil offices, they devote themselves entirely to the duties of private citizens, and by their industry and charity endeavor to make reparation to human society for the violence committed by their founders. A small number of this sect, which is settled in England, retains its peculiar tenet concerning baptism, but without any dangerous mixture of enthusiasm.

The mutiny of the Anabaptists, though it drew general attention, did not so entirely engross the princes of Germany as not to allow leisure for other transactions. The alliance between the French king and the confederates at Smalkalde, began about this time to produce great effects. Ulric, duke of Württemberg, having been expelled his dominions in the year one thousand five hundred and nineteen, on account of his violent and oppressive administration, the house of Austria had got possession of his duchy. That prince having now by a long exile atoned for the errors in his conduct, which were the effect rather of inexperience than of a tyrannical disposition, was become the object of general compassion. The landgrave of Hesse, in particular, his near relation, warmly espoused his interest, and used many efforts to recover for him his ancient inheritance. But the king of the Romans obstinately refused to relinquish a valuable acquisition which his family had made with so much ease. The landgrave, unable to compel him, applied to the king of France, his new ally. Francis, eager to embrace any opportunity of distressing the house of Austria, and desirous of wresting from it a territory which gave it footing and influence in a part of Germany at a distance from its other dominions, encouraged the landgrave to take arms, and secretly supplied him with a large sum of money. This he employed to raise troops; and marching with great expedition towards Württemberg, attacked, defeated, and dispersed a considerable body of Austrians, entrusted with the defence of the country. All the duke's subjects hastened, with emulation, to receive their native prince, and reinvested him with that authority which is still enjoyed by his descendants. At the same time the exercise of the protestant religion was established in his dominions.

Ferdinand, how sensible soever of this unexpected blow, not daring to attack a prince whom all the protestant powers in Germany were ready to support, judged it expedient to conclude a treaty with him, by which, in the most ample form, he recognized his title to the duchy. The success of the landgrave’s operations, in behalf of the duke of Wurtemberg, having convinced Ferdinand that a rupture with a league, so formidable as that of Smalkalde, was to he avoided with the utmost care, he entered likewise into a negotiation with the elector of Saxony, the head of that union, and by some concessions in favor of the protestant religion and others of advantage to the elector himself, he prevailed on him, together with his confederates, to acknowledge his title as king of the Romans. At the same time, in order to prevent any such precipitate or irregular election in times to come, it was agreed that no person should hereafter be promoted to that dignity without the unanimous consent of the electors; and the emperor soon after confirmed this stipulation.

These acts of indulgence towards the protestants, and the close union into which the king of the Romans seemed to be entering with the princes of that party, gave great offence at Rome. Paul III, though he had departed from a resolution of his predecessor, never to consent to the calling of a general council, and had promised, in the first consistory held after his election, that he would convoke that assembly so much desired by all Christendom, was no less enraged than Clement at the innovations in Germany, and no less averse to any scheme for reforming either the doctrines of the church, or the abuses in the court of Rome; but having been a witness of the universal censure which Clement had incurred by his obstinacy with regard to these points, he hoped to avoid the same reproach by the seeming alacrity with which he proposed a council; flattering himself, however, that such difficulties would arise concerning the time and place of meeting, the persons who had a right to be present, and the order of their proceedings, as would effectually defeat the intention of those who demanded that assembly, without exposing himself to any imputation for refusing to call it. With this view he despatched nuncios to the several courts, in order to make known his intention, and that he had fixed on Mantua as a proper place in which to hold the council. Such difficulties as the pope had foreseen, immediately presented themselves in a great number. The French king did not approve of the place which Paul had chosen, as the papal and imperial influence would necessarily be too great in a town situated in that part of Italy. The king of England not only concurred with Francis in urging that objection, but refused, besides, to acknowledge any council called in the name and by the authority of the pope. The German protestants having met together at Smalkalde, insisted on their original demand of a council to be held in Germany, an pleading the emperor's promise, as well as the agreement at Ratisbon to that effect, declared that they would not consider an assembly held at Mantua as a legal or free representative of the church. By this diversity of sentiments and views, such a field for intrigue and negotiation opened, as made it easy for the pope to assume the merit of being eager to assemble a council, while at the same time he could put off its meeting at pleasure. The protestants on the other hand, suspecting his designs, and sensible of the importance which they derived from their union, renewed for ten years the league of Smalkalde, which now became stronger and more formidable by the accession of several new members.

 

THE STORY OF THE BARBAROSSA BROTHERS

 

During these transactions in Germany, the emperor undertook his famous enterprise against the piratical states in Africa. That part of the African continent lying along the coast of the Mediterranean sea, which anciently formed the kingdoms of Mauritania and Massylia, together with the republic of Carthage, and which is now known by the general name of Barbary, had undergone many revolutions. Subdued by the Romans, it became a province of their empire. When it was conquered afterwards by the Vandals, they erected a kingdom there. That being overturned by Belisarius, the country became subject to the Greek emperors, and continued to be so until it was overrun, towards the end of the seventh century, by the rapid and irresistible arms of the Arabians. It remained for some time a part of that vast empire which the caliphs governed with absolute authority. Its immense distance, however, from the seat of government, encouraged the descendants of those leaders who had subdued the country, or the chiefs of the Moors, its ancient inhabitants, to throw off the yoke, and to assert their independence. The caliphs, who derived their authority from a spirit of enthusiasm, more fitted for making conquests than for preserving them, were obliged to connive at acts of rebellion which they could not prevent; and Barbary was divided into several kingdoms, of which Morocco, Algiers, and Tunis were the most considerable. The inhabitants of these kingdoms were a mixed race, Arabs, negroes from the southern provinces, and Moors, either natives of Africa, or who had been expelled out of Spain; all zealous professors of the Mahometan religion, and inflamed against Christianity with a bigotted hatred proportional to their ignorance and barbarous mariners.

Among these people, no less daring, inconstant, and treacherous, than the ancient inhabitants of the same country described by the Roman historians, frequent seditions broke out, and many changes in government took place. These, as they affected only the internal state of a country extremely barbarous, are but little known, and deserve to be so; but about the beginning of the sixteenth century, a sudden revolution happened, which, by rendering the states of Barbary formidable to the Europeans, hath made their history worthy of more attention. This revolution was brought about by persons born in a rank of life which entitled them to act no such illustrious part.

Horuc and Hayradin, the sons of a potter in the Isle of Lesbos, prompted by a restless and enterprising spirit, forsook their father’s trade, ran to sea, and joined a crew of pirates. They soon distinguished themselves by their valor and activity, and becoming masters of distinguished small brigantine, carried on their infamous trade with such conduct and success, that they assembled a fleet of twelve galleys, besides many vessels of smaller force. Of this fleet, Horuc, the elder brother, called Barbarossa, from the red colour of his beard, was admiral, and Hayradin second in command, but with almost equal authority. They called themselves the friends of the sea, and the enemies of all who sail upon it; and their names soon became terrible from the Straits of the Dardanelles to those of Gibraltar. Together with their fame and power, their ambitious views extended, and while acting as corsairs, they adopted the ideas, and acquired the talents of conquerors. They often carried the prizes which they took on the coast of Spain and Italy into the ports of Barbary, and enriching the inhabitants by the sale of their booty, and the thoughtless prodigality of their crews, were welcome guests in every place at which they touched. The convenient situation of these harbors, lying so near the greatest commercial states at that time in Christendom, made the brothers wish for an establishment in that country. An opportunity of accomplishing this quickly presented itself, which they did not suffer to pass unimproved. Eutemi, king of Algiers, having attempted several times, without success, to take a fort which the Spanish governors of Oran had built not far from his capital, was so ill-advised as to apply for aid to Barbarossa, whose valor the Africans considered as irresistible. The active corsair gladly accepted of the invitation, and leaving his brother Hayradin with the fleet [1516] marched at the head of five thousand men to Algiers, where he was received as their deliverer. Such a force gave him the command of the town; and as he perceived that the Moors neither suspected him of any bad intentions, nor were capable with their light-armed troops of opposing his disciplined veterans, he secretly murdered the monarch whom he had come to assist, and proclaimed himself king of Algiers in his stead. The authority which he had thus boldly usurped, he endeavored to establish by arts suited to the genius of the people whom he had to govern; by liberality without bounds to those who favored his promotion, and by cruelty no less unbounded towards all whom he had any reason to distrust. Not satisfied with the throne which he had acquired, he attacked the neighboring king of Tremecen, and having vanquished him in battle, added his dominions to those of Algiers. At the same time he continued to infest the coast of Spain and Italy with fleets which resembled the armaments of a great monarch, rather than the light squadrons of a corsair. Their frequent and cruel devastations obliged Charles, about the beginning of his reign [1518], to furnish the marquis de Comares, governor of Oran, with troops sufficient to attack him. That officer, assisted by the dethroned king of Tremecen, executed the commission with such spirit, that Barbarossa’s troops being beat in several encounters, he himself was shut up in Tremecen. After defending it to the last extremity, he was overtaken in attempting to make his escape, and slain while he fought with an obstinate valor, worthy his former fame and exploits.

His brother Hayradin, known likewise by the name of Barbarossa, assumed the scepter of Algiers with the same ambition and abilities, but with better fortune. His reign being undisturbed by the arms of the Spaniards, which had full occupation in the wars among the European powers, he regulated with admirable prudence the interior police of his kingdom, carried on his naval operations with great vigour, and extended his conquest on time continent of Africa. But perceiving that the Moors and Arabs submitted to his government with the utmost reluctance, and being afraid that his continual depredations would, one day, draw upon him the arms of the Christians, he put his dominions under the protection of the Grand Seignior, and received from him a body of Turkish soldiers sufficient for his security against his domestic as well as his foreign enemies. At last, the fame of his exploits daily increasing, Solyman offered him the command of the Turkish fleet, as the only person whose valor and skill in naval affairs entitled him to command against Andrew Doria, the greatest sea-officer of that age. Proud of this distinction, Barbarossa repaired to Constantinople, and with a wonderful versatility of mind, mingling the arts of a courtier with the boldness of a corsair, gained the entire confidence both of the sultan and his vizier. To them he communicated a scheme which he had formed of making himself master of Tunis, the most flourishing kingdom, at that time, on the coast of Africa; and this being approved of by them, he obtained whatever he demanded for carrying it into execution.

His hopes of success in this undertaking were founded on the intestine divisions in the kingdom of Tunis. Mahmed, the last king of that country, having thirty-four sons by different wives, appointed Muley-Hacsen, one of the youngest among them, to be his successor. That weak prince, who owed this preference, not to his own merit, but to the ascendant which his mother had acquired over a monarch doating with age, first poisoned Mahmed his father in order to prevent him from altering his destination with respect to the succession; and then, with the barbarous policy which prevails wherever polygamy is permitted, and the right of succession is not precisely fixed, he put to death all his brothers whom he could get into his power. Alraschid, one of the eldest, was so fortunate as to escape his rage; and finding a retreat among the wandering Arabs, made several attempts, by the assistance of some of their chiefs, to recover the throne, which of right belonged to him. But these proving unsuccessful, and the Arabs, from their natural levity, being ready to deliver him up to his mere less brother, he fled to Algiers, the only place of refuge remaining, and implored the protection of Barbarossa, who, discerning at once all the advantages which might be gained by supporting his title, received him with every possible demonstration of friendship and respect. Being ready, at that time, to set sail for Constantinople, he easily persuaded Alraschid, whose eagerness to obtain a crown disposed him to believe or undertake anything, to accompany him thither, promising him effectual assistance from Solyman, whom he represented to be the most generous, as well as most powerful monarch in the world. But no sooner were they arrived at Constantinople, than the treacherous corsair, regardless of all his promises to him, opened to the sultan a plan for conquering Tunis, and annexing it to the Turkish empire, by making use of the name of this exiled prince, and cooperating with the party in the kingdom which was ready to declare in his favor. Solyman approved, with too much facility, of this perfidious proposal, extremely suitable to the character of its author, but altogether unworthy of a great prince. A powerful fleet and numerous army were soon assembled; at the sight of which the credulous Alraschid flattered himself that he should soon enter his capital in triumph.

But just as this unhappy prince was going to embark, he was arrested by order of the sultan, shut up in the seraglio, and was never heard of more. Barbarossa sailed with a fleet of two hundred and fifty vessels towards Africa. After ravaging the coasts of Italy, and spreading terror through every part of that country, he appeared before Tunis; and landing his men, gave out that he came to assert the right of Alraschid, whom he pretended to have left sick aboard the admiral galley. The fort of Goletta, which commands the bay, soon fell into his bands, partly by his own address, partly by the treachery of its commander; and the inhabitants of Tunis, weary of Muley-Hascen’s government, took arms, and declared for Alraschid with such zeal and unanimity as obliged the former to fly so precipitately, that he left all his treasures behind him. The gates were immediately set open to Barbarossa, as the restorer of their lawful sovereign. But when Alraschid himself did not appear, and when instead of his name, that of Solyman alone was heard among the acclamations of the Turkish soldiers marching into the town, the people of Tunis began to suspect the corsair’s treachery. Their suspicions being soon converted into certainty, they ran to arms, with the utmost fury, and surrounded the citadel, into which Barbarossa had led his troops. But having foreseen such a revolution, he was not unprepared for it; he immediately turned against them the artillery on the ramparts, and by one brisk discharge, dispersed the numerous but undirected assailants, and forced them to acknowledge Solyman as their sovereign, and to submit to himself as his viceroy.

His first care was to put the kingdom, of which he had thus got possession, in a proper posture of defence. He strengthened the citadel which commands the town; and fortifying the Goletta in a regular manner, at vast expense, made it the principal station for his fleet, and his great arsenal for military as well as naval stores. Being now possessed of such extensive territories, he carried on his depredations against the Christian states to a greater extent, and with more destructive violence than ever.

Daily complaints of the outrages committed by his cruisers were brought to the emperor by his subjects, both in Spain and Italy. All Christendom seemed to expect from him, as its greatest and most fortunate prince, that he would put an end to this new and odious species of oppression. At the same time Muley-Hascen, the exiled king of Tunis, finding none of the Mahometan princes in Africa willing or able to assist him in recovering his throne, applied to Charles (April 21, 1535 ), as the only person who could assert his rights in opposition to such a formidable usurper. The Emperor, equally desirous of delivering his dominions from the dangerous neighborhood of Barbarossa; of appearing as the protector of an unfortunate prince; and of acquiring the glory annexed in that age to every expedition against the Mahometans, readily concluded a treaty with Muley­Hascen, and began to prepare for invading Tunis. Having made trial of his own abilities for war in the late campaign in Hungary, he was now become so fond of the military character, that he determined to command on this occasion in person. The united strength of his dominions was called out upon an enterprise in which the emperor was about to hazard his glory, and which drew the attention of all Europe. A Flemish fleet carried from the ports of the Low-Country a body of German infantry; the galleys of Naples and Sicily took on board the veteran bands of Italians and Spaniards, which had distinguished themselves by so many victories over the French; the emperor himself embarked at Barcelona with the flower of the Spanish nobility, and was joined by a considerable squadron from Portugal, under the command of the Infant Don Lewis, the empress’s brother; Andrew Doria conducted his own galleys, the best appointed at that time in Europe, and commanded by the most skillful officers; the pope furnished all the assistance in his power towards such a pious enterprise; and the order of Malta, the perpetual enemies of the Infidels, equipped a squadron, which, though small, was formidable by the valor of the knights who served on board it. The port of Cagliari in Sardinia was the general place of rendezvous. Doria was appointed high admiral of the fleet; the command of the land forces under the emperor was given to the Marquis de Guasto.

On the sixteenth of July, the fleet, consisting of near five hundred vessels, having on board above thirty thousand regular troops, set sail from Cagliari, and after a prosperous navigation landed within sight of Tunis. Barbarossa having received early intelligence of the emperor's immense armament, and suspecting its destination, prepared with equal prudence and vigour for the defence of his new conquest. He called in all his corsairs from their different stations; he drew from Algiers what forces could be spared; he despatched messengers to all the African princes, Moors as well as Arabs, and by representing Muley-Hascen as an infamous apostate, prompted by ambition and revenge, not only to become the vassal of a Christian prince, but to conspire with him to extirpate the Mahomedan faith, he inflamed those ignorant and bigoted chiefs to such a degree, that they took arms as in a common cause. Twenty thousand horse, together with a great body of foot, soon assembled at Tunis, and by a proper distribution of presents among them from time to time, Barbarossa kept the ardor which had brought them together from subsiding. But as he was too well acquainted with the enemy whom he had to oppose, to think that these light troops could resist the heavy-armed cavalry and veteran infantry which composed the Imperial army, his chief confidence was in the strength of the Goletta, and in his body of Turkish soldiers, who were armed and disciplined after the European fashion. Six thousand of these, under the command of Sinan, a renegade Jew, the bravest and most experienced of all his corsairs, he threw into that fort, which the emperor immediately invested. As Charles had the command of the sea, his camp was so plen­tifully supplied not only with the necessaries, but with all the luxuries of life, that Muley-Hascen, who had not been accustomed to see war carried on with such order and magnificence, was filled with admiration of the emperor’s power. His troops, animated by his presence, and considering it as meritorious to shed their blood in such a pious cause, contended with each other for the posts of honor and danger. Three separate attacks were concerted, and the Germans, Spaniards, and Italians, having one of these committed to each of them, pushed them forward with the eager courage which national emulation inspires. Sinan displayed resolution and skill becoming the confidence which his master had put in him; the garrison performed the hard service on which they were ordered with great fortitude. But though he interrupted the besiegers by frequent sallies, though the Moon and Arabs alarmed the camp with their continual incursions; the breaches soon became so considerable towards the land, while the fleet battered those parts of the fortifications which it could approach, with no less fury and success, that an assault being given on all sides at once, the place was taken by storm [July 25]. Sinan, with the remains of his garrison, retired after an obstinate resistance, over a shallow part of the bay towards the city. By the reduction of the Goletta, the emperor became master of Barbarossa's fleet, consisting of eighty-seven galleys and galliots, together with his arsenal, and three hundred cannon, mostly brass, which were planted on the ramparts; a prodigious number in that age, and a remarkable proof of the strength of the fort, as well as of the greatness of the corsair’s power. The emperor marched into the Goletta, through the breach, and turning to Muley-Hascen who attended him, “Here”, says he, “is a gate open to you, by which you shall return to take possession of your dominions”.

Barbarossa, though he felt the full weight of the blow which he had received, did not, however, lose courage or abandon the defence of Tunis. But as the walls were of great extent, and extremely weak; as he could not depend on the fidelity of the inhabitants, nor hope that the Moors and Arabs would sustain the hardships of a siege, he boldly determined to advance with his army, which amounted to fifty thousand men, towards the Imperial camp, and to decide the fate of his kingdom by the issue of a battle. This resolution he communicated to his principal officers, and representing to them the fatal consequences which might follow, if ten thousand Christian slaves, whom he had shut up in the citadel, should attempt to mutiny during the absence of the army, he proposed as a necessary precaution for the public security, to massacre them without mercy before he began his march. They all approved warmly of his intention to fight; but inured as they were, in their piratical depredations, to scenes of bloodshed and cruelty, the barbarity of his proposal, concerning the slaves, filled them with horror; and Barbarossa, rather from the dread of irritating them, than swayed by motives of humanity, consented to spare the lives of the slaves.

By this time the emperor had begun to advance towards Tunis; and though his troops suffered inconceivable hardships in their march, over burning sands, destitute of water, and exposed to the intolerable heat of the sun, they soon came up with the enemy. The Moors and Arabs, emboldened by their vast superiority in number, immediately rushed on to the attack with loud shouts, but their undisciplined courage could not long stand the shock of regular battalions; and though Barbarossa, with admirable presence of mind, and by exposing his own person to the greatest dangers, endeavored to rally them, the rout became so general, that he himself was hurried along with them in their flight hack to the city. There he found everything in the utmost confusion; some of the inhabitants flying with their families and effects; others ready to set open their gates to the conqueror; the Turkish soldiers preparing to retreat; and the citadel, which in such circumstances might have afforded him some refuge, already in the possession of the Christian captives. These unhappy men, rendered desperate by their situation, had laid hold on the opportunity which Barbarossa dreaded. As soon as his army was at some distance from the town, they gained two of their keepers, by whose assistance knocking off their fetters, and bursting open their prisons, they overpowered the Turkish garrison, and turned the artillery of the fort against their former masters. Barbarossa, disappointed and enraged, exclaiming sometimes against the false compassion of his officers, and sometimes condemning his own imprudent compliance with their opinion, fled precipitately to Bona.

Meanwhile Charles, satisfied with the easy and almost bloodless victory which he had gained, and advancing slowly with the precaution necessary in an enemy’s country, did not yet know the whole extent of his own good fortune. But at last, a messenger despatched by the slaves acquainted him with the success of their noble effort for the recovery of their liberty; and at the same time deputies arrived from the town, in order to present him the keys of their gates, and to implore his protection from military violence. While he was deliberating concerning the proper measures for this purpose, the soldiers, fearing that they should he deprived of the booty which they had expected, rushed suddenly, and without orders, into the town, and began to kill and plunder without distinction. It was then too late to restrain their cruelty, their avarice, or licentiousness. All the outrages of which soldiers are capable in the fury of a storm, all the excesses of which men can be guilty when their passions are heightened by the contempt and hatred which difference in manners and religion inspire, were committed. Above thirty thousand of the innocent inhabitants perished on that unhappy day, and ten thousand were carried away as slaves. Muley-Hascen took possession of a throne surrounded with carnage, abhorred by his subjects on whom he had brought such calamities, and pitied even by those whose rashness had been the occasion of them. The emperor lamented the fatal accident which had stained the luster of his victory; and amidst such a scene of horror there was but one spectacle that afforded him any satisfaction. Ten thousand Christian slaves, among whom were several persons of distinction, met him as he entered the town; and falling upon their knees, thanked and blessed him as their deliverer.

At the same time that Charles accomplished his promise to the Moorish king, of reestablishing him in his dominions, he did not neglect what was necessary for bridling the power of the African corsairs, for the security of his own subjects, and for the interest of the Spanish crown. In order to gain these ends, he concluded a treaty with Muley-Hascen on the following conditions; that he should hold the kingdom of Tunis in fee of the crown of Spain, and do homage to the emperor as his liege-lord; that all the Christian slaves now within his dominions, of whatever nation, should be set at liberty without ransom; that no subject of the emperor’s should for the future be detained in servitude; that no Turkish corsair should be admitted into the ports of his dominions; that free trade, together with the public exercise of the Christian religion, should be allowed to the emperor's subjects; that the emperor should not only retain the Goletta, but that all the other sea ports in the kingdom which were fortified should be put into his hands; that Muley-Hascen should pay annually twelve thousand crowns for the subsistence of the Spanish garrison in the Goletta; that he should enter into no alliance with any of the emperor’s enemies, and should present to him every year, as an acknowledgment of his vassalage, six Moorish horses, and as many hawks. Having thus settled the affairs of Africa; chastised the insolence of the corsairs; secured a safe retreat fox the ships of his subjects, and a proper station to his own fleets, on that coast from which he was most infested by piratical depredations; Charles embarked again for Europe [Aug. 17], the tempestuous weather, and sickness among his troops, not permitting him to pursue Barbarossa.

By this expedition, the merit of which seems to have been estimated in that age, rather by the apparent generosity of the undertaking, the magnificence with which it was conducted, and the success which crowned it, than by the importance of the consequences that attended it, the emperor attained a greater height of glory, than at any other period of his reign. Twenty thousand slaves whom he freed from bondage, either by his aims, or by his treaty with Muley-Hascen, each of whom he clothed and furnished with the means of returning to their respective countries, spread over all Europe the fame of their benefactor's munificence, extolling his power and abilities with the exaggeration flowing from gratitude and admiration. In comparison with him, the other monarchs in Europe made an inconsiderable figure. They seemed to be solicitous about nothing but their private and particular interests; while Charles, with an elevation of sentiment which became the first prince in Christendom, appeared to be concerned for the honor of the Christian name, and attentive to the public security and welfare.

 

BOOK VI.

 

FRANCIS I AND HIS ZEAL FOR RELIGION