THE REIGN OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES V

A VIEW OF THE PROGRESS OF SOCIETY IN EUROPE, FROM THE SUBVERSION OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE TO THE BEGINNING OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

SECTION III.

VIEW OF THE POLITICAL CONSTITUTION OF THE PRINCIPAL STATES IN EUROPE, AT THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

HAVING thus enumerated the principal causes and events, the influence of which was felt in every part of Europe, and contributed either to improve internal order and police in its various states, or to enlarge the sphere of their activity, by giving them more entire command of the force with which foreign operations are carried on; nothing farther seems requisite for preparing my readers to enter, with full information, upon perusing the History of Charles V but to give a view of the political constitution and form of civil government in each of the nations which acted any considerable part during that period. For as the institutions and events which I have endeavored to illustrate, formed the people of Europe to resemble each other, and conducted them from barbarism to refinement, in the same path, and by nearly equal steps; there were other circumstances which occasioned a difference in their political establishments, and gave rise to those peculiar modes of government, which have produced such variety in the character and genius of nations.

It is no less necessary to become acquainted with the latter, than to have contemplated the former. Without a distinct knowledge of the peculiar form and genius of civil government in each state, a great part of its transactions must appear altogether mysterious and inexplicable. The historians of particular countries, as they seldom extend their views farther than to the amusement or instruction of their fellow-citizens, by whom they might presume that all their domestic customs and institutions were perfectly understood, have often neglected to descend into such details with respect to these, as are sufficient to convey to foreigners full light and information concerning the occurrences which they relate. But a history, which comprehends the transactions of so many different countries, would he extremely imperfect, without a previous survey of the constitution and political state of each. It is from his knowledge of these, that the reader must draw those principles, which will enable him to judge with discernment, and to decide with certainty concerning the conduct of nations.

A minute detail, however, of the peculiar forms and regulations in every country, would lead to deductions of immeasurable length. To sketch out the great lines which distinguish and characterize each government, is all that the nature of my present work will admit of, and all that is necessary to illustrate the events which it records.

At the opening of the sixteenth century, the political aspect of Italy was extremely different from that of any other part of Europe. Instead of those extensive monarchies, which occupied the rest of the continent, that delightful country was parceled out among many small states, each of which possessed sovereign and independent jurisdiction. The only monarchy in Italy was that of Naples, the dominion of the popes was of a peculiar species, to which these is nothing similar either in ancient or modern times. In Venice, Florence, and Genoa, a republican form of government was established. Milan was subject to sovereigns, who had assumed no higher title than that of dukes.

The pope was the first of these powers in dignity, and not the least considerable by the extent of his territories. In the primitive church, the jurisdiction of bishops was equal and coordinate. They derived, perhaps, some degree of consideration from the dignity of the see in which they presided. They possessed, however, no real authority or preeminence, but what they acquired by superior abilities, or superior sanctity. As Rome had so long been the seat of empire, and the capital of the world, its bishops were on that account entitled to respect; they received it; but during several ages they received, and even claimed, nothing more. From these humble beginnings, they advanced with such adventurous and well-directed ambition, that they established a spiritual dominion over the minds and sentiments of men, to which all Europe submitted with implicit obedience. Their claim of universal jurisdiction, as heads of the church; and their pretensions to infallibility in their decisions, as successors of St. Peter, are as chimerical, as they are repugnant to the genius of the Christian religion. But on these foundations, the superstition and credulity of mankind enabled them to erect an amazing superstructure. In all ecclesiastical controversies, their decisions were received as the infallible oracles of truth. Nor was the plenitude of their power confined solely to what was spiritual; they dethroned monarchs; disposed of crowns; absolved subjects from the obedience due to their sovereigns; and laid kingdoms under interdicts. There was not a state in Europe which had not been disquieted by their ambition. There was not a throne which they had not shaken; nor a prince who did not tremble at their power.

Nothing was wanting to render this empire absolute, and to establish it on the ruins of all civil authority, but that the popes should have possessed such a degree of temporal power, as was sufficient to second and enforce their spiritual decrees. Happily for mankind, at the time when their spiritual jurisdiction was most extensive, and most revered, their secular dominion was extremely limited. They were powerful pontiffs, formidable at a distance; but they were petty princes, without any considerable domestic force. They had early endeavored, indeed, to acquire territory by arts similar to those which they had employed in extending their spiritual jurisdiction. Under pretence of a donation from Constantine, and of another from Charlemagne or his father Pepin, they attempted to take possession of some towns adjacent to Rome. But these donations were fictitious, and availed them little. The benefactions, for which they were indebted to the credulity of the Norman adventurers, who conquered Naples, and to the superstition of the Countess Matilda, were real, and added ample domains to the Holy See.

But the power of the popes did not increase in proportion to the extent of territory which they had acquired. In the dominions annexed to the Holy See, as well as in those subject to other princes in Italy, the sovereign of a state was far from having the command of the force which it contained.

The Spiritual Supremacy and Temporal Power of the Popes

During the turbulence and confusion of the middle ages, the powerful nobility, or leaders of popular factions in Italy, had seized the government of different towns; and, after strengthening their fortifications, and taking a body of mercenaries into pay, they aspired at independence. The territory which the church had gained was filled with petty lords of this kind, who left the pope hardly the shadow of domestic authority.

As these usurpations almost annihilated the papal power in the greater part of the towns subject to the church, the Roman barons frequently disputed the authority of the popes, even in Rome itself. In the twelfth century, an opinion began to he propagated: “That as the function of ecclesiastics was purely spiritual, they ought to possess no property, and to claim no temporal jurisdiction; but, according to the laudable example of their predecessors in the primitive church, should subsist wholly upon their tithes, or upon the voluntary oblations of the people”. This doctrine being addressed to men, who had beheld the scandalous manner in which the avarice and ambition of the clergy had prompted them to contend for wealth, and to exercise power, they listened to it with fond attention. The Roman barons, who had felt most sensibly the rigor of ecclesiastical oppression, adopted these sentiments with such ardor, that they set themselves instantly to shake off the yoke. They endeavored to restore some image of their ancient liberty, by reviving the institution of the Roman senate [AD 1143], in which they vested supreme authority; committing the executive power sometimes to one chief senator, sometimes to two, and sometimes to a magistrate dignified with the name of The Patrician. The popes exerted themselves with vigor, in order to check this dangerous encroachment on their jurisdiction. One of them, finding all his endeavors ineffectual, was so much mortified, that extreme grief cut short his days. Another, having ventured to attack the senators at the head of some armed men, was mortally wounded in the fray. During a considerable period, the power of the popes, before which the greatest monarchs in Europe trembled, was circumscribed within such narrow limits in their own capital, that they durst hardly exert any act of authority, without the permission and concurrence of the senate.

Encroachments were made upon the papal sovereignty, not only by the usurpations of the Roman nobility, but by the mutinous spirit of the people. During seventy years of the fourteenth century (1308-1377), the popes fixed their residence at Avignon. The inhabitants of Rome, accustomed to consider themselves as the descendants of the people who had conquered the world, and had given laws to it, were too high-spirited to submit with patience to the delegated authority of those persons to whom the popes committed the government of the city. On many occasions, they opposed the execution of the papal mandates, and on the slightest appearance of innovation or oppression, they were ready to take arms in defence of their own immunities. Towards the middle of the fourteenth century, being instigated by Nicolas Rienzo, a man of low birth and a seditious spirit, but of popular eloquence, and an enterprising ambition, they drove all the nobility out of the city, established a democratical form of government, elected Rienzo tribune of the people, and invested him with extensive authority. But though the frantic proceedings of the tribune soon overturned this new system; though the government of Rome was reinstated in its ancient form; yet every fresh attack contributed to weak the papal jurisdiction: and the turbulence of the people concurred with the spirit of independence among the nobility, in circumscribing it more and more. Gregory VII and other domineering pontiffs, accomplished those great things which rendered them so formidable to the emperors with whom they contended, not by the force of their arms, or by the extent of their power, but by the dread of their spiritual censures, and by the effect of their intrigues, which excited rivals, and called forth enemies against every prince whom they wished to depress or to destroy.

Many attempts were made by the popes, not only to humble those usurpers, who lorded it over the cities in the ecclesiastical state, but to break the turbulent spirit of the Roman people. These were long unsuccessful. But at last Alexander VI, with a policy no less artful than flagitious, subdued and extirpated most of the great Roman barons, and rendered the popes masters of their own dominions. The enterprising ambition of Julius II added conquests of no inconsiderable value to the patrimony of St. Peter. Thus the popes, by degrees, became powerful temporal princes. Their territories, in the age of Charles V, were of greater extent than at present; their country seems to have been better cultivated as well as more populous; and as they drew large contributions from every part of Europe, their revenues far exceeded those of the neighboring powers, and rendered them capable of more sudden and vigorous efforts.

The genius of the papal government, however, was better adapted to the exercise of spiritual dominion, than of temporal power. With respect to the former, all its maxims were steady and invariable. Every new pontiff adopted the plan of his predecessor. By education and habit, ecclesiastics were so formed, that the character of the individual was sunk in that of the profession; and the passions of the man were sacrificed to the interest and honor of the order. The hands which held the reins of administration might change; but the spirit which conducted them was always the same. While the measures of other governments fluctuated, and the objects at which they aimed varied, the church kept one end in view; and to this unrelaxing constancy of pursuit, it was indebted for its success in the boldest attempts ever made by human ambition.

But in their civil administration, the popes followed no such uniform or consistent plan. There, as in other governments, the character, the passions, and the interest of the person who had the supreme direction of affairs, occasioned a variation both in objects and measures. As few prelates reached the summit of ecclesiastical dignity until they were far advanced in life, a change of masters was more frequent in the papal dominions than in other states, and the political system was, of course, less stable and permanent. Every pope was eager to make the most of the short period, during which he had the prospect of enjoying power, in order to aggrandize his own family, and to attain his private ends; and it was often the first business of his successor to undo all that he had done, and to overturn what he had established.

As ecclesiastics were trained to pacific arts, and early initiated in the mysteries of that policy by which the court of Rome extended or supported its spiritual dominion, the popes in the conduct of their temporal affairs were apt to follow the same maxims, and in all their measures were more ready to employ the refinements of intrigue, than the force of arms. It was in the papal court that address and subtlety in negotiation became a science; and during the sixteenth century, Rome was considered as the school in which it might be best acquired.

As the decorum of their ecclesiastical character prevented the popes from placing themselves at the head of their armies, or from taking the command in person of the military force in their dominions, they were afraid to arm their subjects; and in all their operations, whether offensive or defensive, they trusted entirely to mercenary troops.

As their power and dominions could not descend to their posterity, the popes were less solicitous than other princes to form or to encourage schemes of public utility and improvement. Their tenure was only for a short life; present advantage was what they chiefly studied; to squeeze and to amass, rather than to meliorate, was their object. They erected, perhaps, some work of ostentation, to remain as a monument of their pontificate; they found it necessary at some times, to establish useful institutions, in order to soothe and silence the turbulent populace of Rome; but plans of general benefit to their subjects, framed with a view to futurity, were rarely objects of attention in the papal policy. The patrimony of St. Peter was worse governed than any part of Europe; and though a generous pontiff might suspend for a little, or counteract the effects of those vices which are peculiar to the administration of ecclesiastics; the disease not only remained without remedy, but has gone on increasing from age to age; and the decline of the state has kept pace with its progress.

One circumstance, farther, concerning the papal government, is so singular, as to merit attention. As the spiritual supremacy and temporal power were united in one person, and uniformly aided each other in their operations, they became so blended together, that it was difficult to separate them, even in imagination. The potentates, who found it necessary to oppose the measures which the popes pursued as temporal princes, could not easily divest themselves of the reverence which they imagine to be due to them as heads of the church, and vicars of Jesus Christ. It was with reluctance that they could be brought to a rupture with the head of the church; they were unwilling to push their operations against him to extremity; they listened eagerly to the first overtures of accommodation, and were anxious to procure it almost upon any terms. Their consciousness of this encouraged the enterprising pontiffs who tilled the papal throne about the beginning of the sixteenth century, to engage in schemes seemingly the most extravagant. They trusted, that if their temporal power was not sufficient to carry them through with success, the respect paid to their spiritual dignity would enable them to extricate themselves with facility and with honor. But when popes came to take part more frequently in the contests among princes, and to engage as principals or auxiliaries in every war kindled in Europe, this veneration for their sacred character began to abate; and striking instances will occur in the following history of its being almost totally extinct.

THE REPUBLIC OF VENICE

Of all the Italian powers, the republic of Venice, next to the papal see, was most connected with the rest of Europe. The rise of that commonwealth, during the inroads of the Huns in the fifth century; the singular situation of its capital in the small isles of the Adriatic gulf; and the more singular form of its civil constitution, are generally known. If we view the Venetian government as calculated for the order of nobles alone, its institutions may be pronounced excellent; the deliberative, legislative, and executive powers, are so admirably distributed and adjusted, that it must be regarded as a perfect model of political wisdom. But if we consider it as formed for a numerous body of people subject to its jurisdiction, it will appear a rigid and partial aristocracy, which lodges all power in the hands of a few members of the community, while it degrades and oppresses the rest.

The spirit of government in a commonwealth of this species, was, of course, timid and jealous. The Venetian nobles distrusted their own subjects, and were afraid of allowing them the use of arms. They encouraged among them the arts of industry and commerce; they employed them in manufactures and in navigation, but never admitted them into the troops, which the state kept in its pay. The military force of the republic consisted entirely of foreign mercenaries. The command of these was never trusted to noble Venetians, lest they should acquire such influence over the army, as might endanger the public liberty; or become accustomed to the exercise of such power, as would make them unwilling to return to the condition of private citizens. A soldier of fortune was placed at the head of the armies of the commonwealth; and to obtain that honor, was the great object of the Italian Condottieri, or leaders of bands, who in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, made a trade of war, and raised and hired out soldiers to different states. But the same suspicious policy, which induced the Venetians to employ these adventurers, prevented their placing entire confidence in them. Two noblemen, appointed by the senate, accompanied their army, when it took the field, with the appellation of Proveditori, and, like the field-deputies of the Dutch republic in latter times, observed all the motions of the general, and checked and controlled him in all his operations.

A commonwealth with such civil and military institutions, was not formed to make conquests. While its subjects were disarmed, and its nobles excluded from military command, it carried on its warlike enterprises with great disadvantage. This ought to have taught the Venetians to rest satisfied with making self-preservation and the enjoyment of domestic security, the objects of their policy. But republics are apt to be seduced by the spirit of ambition, as well as kings. When the Venetians so far forgot the interior defects in their government as to aim at extensive conquests, the fatal blow, which they received in the war excited by the league of Cambray, convinced them of the imprudence and danger of making violent efforts, in opposition to the genius and tendency of their constitution.

It is not, however, by its military, but by its naval and commercial power, that the importance of the Venetian commonwealth must be estimated. The latter constituted the real force and nerves of the state. The jealousy of government did not extend to this department. Nothing was apprehended from this quarter, that could prove formidable to liberty. The senate encouraged the nobles to trade, and to serve on board the fleet. They became merchants and admirals. They increased the wealth of their country by their industry. They added to its dominions, by the valor with which they conducted its naval armaments.

Commerce was an inexhaustible source of opulence to the Venetians. All the nations in Europe depended upon them, not only for the commodities of the East, but for various manufactures fabricated by them alone, or finished with a dexterity and elegance unknown in other countries. From this extensive commerce, the state derived such immense supplies, as concealed those vices in its constitution which I have mentioned; and enabled it to keep on foot such armies, as were not only an overmatch for the force which any of its neighbors could bring into the field, but were sufficient to contend, for some time, with the powerful monarchs beyond the Alps. During its struggles with the princes united against it by the league of Cambray, the republic levied sums which, even in the present age, would be deemed considerable; and while the king of France paid the exorbitant interest which I have mentioned for the money advanced to him, and the emperor, eager to borrow, but destitute of credit, was known by the name of Maximilian the Moneyless, the Venetians raised whatever sums they pleased, at the moderate premium of five in the hundred.

THE REPUBLIC OF FLORENCE

The constitution of Florence was perfectly the reverse of the Venetian. It partook as much of democratical turbulence and licentiousness, as the other of aristocratical rigor. Florence, however, was a commercial, not a military democracy. The nature of its institutions was favorable to commerce, and the genius of the people was turned towards it. The vast wealth which the family of Medici had acquired by trade, together with the magnificence, the generosity, and the virtue of the first Como, gave him such an ascendant over the affections as well as the councils of his countrymen, that though the forms of popular government were preserved, though the various departments of administration were filled by magistrates distinguished by the ancient names, and elected in the usual manner, he was in reality the head of the commonwealth; and in the station of a private citizen, he possessed supreme authority. Cosmo transmitted a considerable degree of this power to his descendants; and during the greater part of the fifteenth century, the political state of Florence was extremely singular. The appearance of republican government subsisted, the people were passionately attached to it, and on some occasions contended warmly for their privileges, and yet they permitted a single family to assume the direction of their affairs, almost as absolutely as if it had been formerly invested with sovereign power. The jealousy of the Medici concurred with the commercial spirit of the Florentines, in putting the military force of the republic upon the same footing with that of the other Italian states. The troops, which the Florentines employed in their wars, consisted almost entirely of mercenary soldiers, furnished by the Condottieri or leaders of bands, whom they took into their pay.

THE KINGDOM OF NAPLES

In the kingdom of Naples, to which the sovereignty of the island of Sicily was annexed, the feudal government were established in the same form, and with the same defects, as in the other nations of Europe. The frequent and violent revolutions which happened in that monarchy had considerably increased these defects, and rendered them more intolerable. The succession to the crown of Naples bad been so often interrupted or altered, and so many princes of foreign blood had, at different periods, obtained possession of the throne, that the Neapolitan nobility had lost, in a great measure, that attachment to the family of their sovereigns, as well as that reverence for their persons, which, in other feudal kingdoms, contributed to set some bounds to the encroachments of the barons upon the royal prerogative and power. At the same time, the different pretenders to the crown, being obliged to court the barons who adhered to them, and on whose support they depended for the success of their claims, they augmented their privileges by liberal concessions, and connived at their boldest usurpations. Even when seated on the throne, it was dangerous for a prince, who held his scepter by a disputed title, to venture on any step towards extending his own power, or circumscribing that of the nobles.

From all these causes, the kingdom of Naples was the most turbulent of any in Europe, and the authority of its monarchs the least extensive. Though Ferdinand I who began his reign in the year 1468, attempted to break the power of the aristocracy, though his son Alphonse, that he might crush it at once by cutting off the leaders of greatest reputation and influence among the Neapolitan barons, ventured to commit one of the most perfidious and cruel actions recorded in history [AD 1487]; the order of nobles was nevertheless more exasperated than humbled by their measures. The resentment which these outrages excited was so violent, and the power of the malcontent nobles was still so formidable, that to these may be ascribed, in a great degree, the ease and rapidity with which Charles VIII conquered the kingdom of Naples.

The event that gave rise to the violent contests concerning the succession to the crown of Naples and Sicily, which brought so many calamities upon these kingdoms, happened in the thirteenth century [AD 1254]. Upon the death of the Emperor Frederick II, Manfred, his natural son, aspiring to the Neapolitan throne, murdered his brother the emperor Conrad (if we may believe contemporary historians,) and by that crime obtained possession of it. The popes, from their implacable enmity to the house of Suabia, not only refused to recognize Manfred’s title, but endeavored to excite against him some rival capable of wresting the scepter out of his band. Charles, count of Anjou, the brother of St. Louis king of France, undertook this; and he received from the popes the investiture of the kingdom of Naples and Sicily as a fief held of the holy see. The count of Anjou’s efforts were crowned with success; Manfred fell in battle; and he took possession of the vacant throne. But soon after, Charles sullied the glory which he had acquired, by the injustice and cruelty with which he put to death, by the hands of the executioner, Conradin, the last prince of the house of Suabia, and the rightful heir of the Neapolitan crown. That gallant young prince asserted his title, to the last, with a courage worthy of a better fate. On the scaffold, he declared Peter, at that time prince, and soon after king of Aragon, who had married Manfred’s only daughter, his heir; and throwing his glove among the people, he entreated that it might he carried to Peter, as the symbol by which he conveyed all his rights to him. The desire of avenging the insult offered to royalty, by the death of Conradin, concurred with his own ambition, in prompting Peter to take arms in support of the title which he had acquired. From that period, during almost two centuries, the houses of Aragon and Anjou contended for the crown of Naples. Amidst a succession of revolutions more rapid, as well as of crimes more atrocious, than what occur in the history of almost any other kingdom, monarchs, sometimes of the Aragonese line, and sometimes of the Angevin, were seated on the throne. At length the princes of the house of Aragon [AD 1434] obtained such firm possession of this long disputed inheritance, that they transmitted it quietly to a bastard branch of their family.

The race of the Angevin kings, however, was not extinct, nor had they relinquished their title to the Neapolitan crown. The count of Maine and Provence, the heir of this family, conveyed all his rights and pretensions to Louis XI and to his successors [AD 1494]. Charles VIII, as I have already related, crossed the Alps at the head of a powerful army, in order to prosecute his claim with a degree of vigor far superior to that which the princes from whom he derived it had been capable of exerting. The rapid progress of his arms in Italy, as well as the short time during which he enjoyed the fruits of his success, have already been mentioned, and are well known. Frederick, the heir of the illegitimate branch of the Aragonese family, soon recovered the throne of which Charles had dispossessed him. Louis XII and Ferdinand of Aragon united against this prince, whom both, though for different reasons, considered as a usurper, and agreed to divide his dominions between them [AD 1501]. Frederick, unable to resist the combined monarchs, each of whom was far his superior in power, resigned his scepter. Louis and Ferdinand, though they had concurred in making the conquest, differed about the division of it; and from allies became enemies. But Gonsalvo de Cordova, partly by the exertion of such military talents as gave him a just title to the appellation of the Great Captain, which the Spanish historians have bestowed upon him; and partly by such shameless and frequent violations of the most solemn engagements, as leave an indelible stain on his memory; stripped the French of all that they possessed in the Neapolitan dominions, and secured the peaceable possession of them to his master. These, together with his other kingdoms, Ferdinand transmitted to his grandson Charles V, whose right to possess them, if not altogether incontrovertible, seems, at least, to be as well founded, as that which the kings of France set up in opposition to it.

THE DUCHY OF MILAN

There is nothing in the political constitution or interior government of the duchy of Milan, so remarkable, as to require a particular explanation. But as the right of succession to that fertile province was the cause or the pretext of almost all the wars carried on in Italy during the reign of Charles V, it is necessary to trace these disputes to their source, and to inquire into the pretensions of the various competitors.

During the long and fierce contests excited in Italy by the violence of the Guelf and Ghibelline factions, the family of Visconti rose to great eminence among their fellow-citizens of Milan. As the Visconti had adhered uniformly to the Ghibelline or Imperial interest, they, by way of recompense, received, from one emperor, the dignity of perpetual vicars of the empire in Italy [AD 1354]: they were created, by another, dukes of Milan [1395]; and, together with that title, the possession of the city and its territories was bestowed upon them as an hereditary fief. John, king of France, among other expedients for raising money, which the calamities of his reign obliged him to employ, condescended to give one of his daughters in marriage to John Galeazzo Visconti, the first duke of Milan, from whom he had received considerable sums. Valentine Visconti, one of the children of this marriage, married her cousin, Louis, duke of Orleans, the only brother of Charles VI. In their marriage-contract, which the Pope confirmed, it was stipulated that, upon failure of heirs male in the family of Visconti, the duchy of Milan should descend to the posterity of Valentine and the duke of Orleans. That event took place. In the year 1497, Philip Maria, the last prince of the ducal family of Visconti, died. Various competitors claimed the succession. Charles, duke of Orleans, pleaded his right to it, founded on the marriage contract of his mother Valentine Visconti. Alfonso king of Naples claimed it in consequence of a will made by Philip Maria in his favor. The emperor contended that, upon the extinction of male issue in the family of Visconti, the fief returned to the superior lord, and ought to be re-annexed to the Empire. The people of Milan, smitten with the love of liberty which in that age prevailed among the Italian states, declared against the dominion of any master, and established a republican form of government.

But during the struggle among so many competitors, the prize for which they contended was seized by one from whom none of them apprehended any danger. Francis Sforza, the natural son of Jacomuzzo Sforza, whom his courage and abilities had elevated from the rank of a peasant to be one of the most eminent and powerful of the Italian Condottieri, having succeeded his father in the command of the adventurers who followed his standard, had married a natural daughter of the last duke of Milan. Upon this shadow of a title Francis founded his pretensions to the duchy, which he supported with such talents and valor, as placed him at last on the ducal throne. The virtues, as well as abilities, with which he governed, inducing his subjects to forget the defects in his title, he transmitted his dominions quietly to his son; from whom they descended to his grandson. He was murdered by his grand-uncle Ludovico, surnamed the Moor, who took possession of the duchy; and his right to it was confirmed by the investiture of the emperor Maximilian in the year 1494.

Louis XI, who took pleasure in depressing the princes of the blood, and who admired the political abilities of Francis Sforza, would not permit the duke of Orleans to take any step in prosecution of his right to the duchy of Milan. Ludovico the Moor kept up such a close connection with Charles VIII that, during the greater part of his reign, the claim of the family of Orleans continued to lie dormant. But when the crown of France devolved on Louis XII duke of Orleans, he instantly asserted the rights of his family with the ardor which it was natural to expect, and marched at the head of a powerful army to support them. Ludovico Sforza, incapable of contending with such a rival, was stripped of all his dominions in the space of a few days. The king, clad in the ducal robes, entered Milan in triumph; and soon after, Ludovico, having been betrayed by the Swiss in his pay, was sent a prisoner into France, and shut up in the castle of Loches, where he lay unpitied during the remainder of his days. In consequence of one of the singular revolutions which occur so frequently in the history of the Milanese, his son Maximilian Sforza was placed on the ducal throne, of which he kept possession during the reign of Louis XII [AD 1512.] But his successor Francis I was too high-spirited and enterprising tamely to relinquish his title. As soon as he was seated upon the throne, he prepared to invade the Milanese; and his right of succession to it appears, from this detail, to have been more natural and more just than that of any other competitor.

It is unnecessary to enter into any detail with respect to the form of government in Genoa, Parma, Modena, and the other inferior states of Italy. Their names, indeed, will often occur in the following history. But the power of these states themselves was so inconsiderable, that their fate depended little upon their own efforts; and the frequent revolutions which they underwent, were brought about rather by the operations of the princes who attacked or defended them, than by anything peculiar in their internal constitution.

The United Kingdoms of Spain

Of the great kingdoms on this side of the Alps, Spain is one of the most considerable; and as it was the hereditary domain of Charles V as well as the chief source of his power and wealth, a distinct knowledge of its political constitution is of capital importance towards understanding the transactions of his reign.

The Vandals and Goths, who overturned the Roman power in Spain, established a form of government in that country, and introduced customs and laws, perfectly similar to those which were established in the rest of Europe, by the other victorious tribes which acquired settlements there. For some time, society advanced, among the new inhabitants of Spain, by the same steps, and seemed to hold the same course, as in other European nations. To this progress a sudden stop was put by the invasion of the Saracens or Moors from Africa [AD 711.] The Goths could not withstand the efforts of their enthusiastic valor, which subdued the greatest part of Spain, with the same impetuous rapidity that distinguishes all the operations of their arms. The conquerors introduced into the country in which they settled, the Mahometan religion, the Arabic language, the manners of the East, together with that taste for the arts, and that love of elegance and splendor, which the caliphs had begun to cultivate among their subjects.

Such Gothic nobles as disdained to submit to the Moorish yoke, fled for refuge to the inaccessible mountains of Asturias. There they comforted themselves with enjoying the exercise of the Christian religion, and with maintaining the authority of their ancient laws. Being joined by many of the boldest and most warlike among their countrymen, they sallied out upon the adjacent settlements of the Moors in small parties; but venturing only upon short excursions at first, they were satisfied with plunder and revenge, without thinking of conquest. By degrees, their strength increased, their views enlarged, a regular government was established among them, and they began to aim at extending their territories. While they pushed on their attacks with the unremitting ardor, excited by zeal for religion, by the desire of vengeance, and by the hope of rescuing their country from oppression; while they conducted their operations with the courage natural to men who had no other occupation but war, and who were strangers to all the arts which corrupt or enfeeble the mind; the Moors gradually lost many of the advantages to which they had been indebted for their first success. They threw off all dependence on the caliphs; they neglected to preserve a close connection with their countrymen in Africa; their empire in Spain was split into many small kingdoms; the arts which they cultivated, together with the luxury to which these gave rise, relaxed, in some measure, the force of their military institutions, and abated the vigour of their warlike spirit. The Moors, however, continued still to be a gallant people, and possessed great resources. According to the magnificent style of the Spanish historians, eight centuries of almost uninterrupted war elapsed, and three thousand seven hundred battles were fought, before the last of the Moorish kingdoms in Spain submitted to the Christian arms [1492].

As the Christians made their conquests upon the Mahometans at various periods, and under different leaders, each formed the territory which he had wrested from the common enemy, into an independent state. Spain was divided into almost as many separate kingdoms as it contained provinces; in each city of note, a petty monarch established his throne, and assumed all the ensigns of royalty. In a series of years, however, by the usual events of intermarriages, or succession, or conquest, all these inferior principalities were annexed to the more powerful kingdoms of Castile and of Aragon. At length, by the fortunate marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella, the former the hereditary monarch of Aragon, and the latter raised to the throne of Castile by the affection of her subjects [1481], all the Spanish crowns were united, and descended in the same line.

From this period, the political constitution of Spain began to assume a regular and uniform appearance; the genius of its government may be delineated, and the progress of its laws and manners may be traced with certainty. Notwithstanding the singular revolution which the invasion of the Moors occasioned in Spain, and the peculiarity of its fate, in being so long subject to the Mahometan yoke, the customs introduced by the Vandals and Goths had taken such deep root, and were so thoroughly incorporated with the frame of its government, that in every province which the Christians recovered from the Moors, we find the condition of individuals, as well as the political constitution, nearly the same as in other nations of Europe. Lands were held by the same tenure; justice was dispensed in the same form; the same privileges were claimed by the nobility; and the same power exercised by the Cortes, or general assembly of the kingdom. Several circumstances contributed to secure this permanence of the feudal institutions in Spain, notwithstanding the conquest of the Moors, which seemed to have overturned them. Such of the Spaniards, as preserved their independence, adhered to their ancient customs, not only from attachment to them, but out of antipathy to the Moors, to whose ideas concerning property and government these customs were totally repugnant. Even among the Christians, who submitted to the Moorish conquerors, and consented to become their subjects, ancient customs were not entirely abolished. They were permitted to retain their religion, their laws concerning private property, their forms of administering justice, and their mode of levying taxes. The followers of Mahomet are the only enthusiasts who have united the spirit of toleration with zeal for making proselytes, and who, at the same time that they took arms to propagate the doctrine of their Prophet, permitted such as would not embrace it, to adhere to their own tenets, and to practice their own rites. To this peculiarity in the genius of the Mahometan religion, as well as to the desire which the Moors had of reconciling the Christians to their yoke, it was owing that the ancient manners and laws in Spain survived the violent shock of a conquest, and were permitted to subsist, notwithstanding the introduction of a new religion and a new form of government into that country. It is obvious, from all these particulars, that the Christians must have found it extremely easy to re-establish manners and government on their ancient foundations in those provinces of Spain which they wrested successively from the Moors. A considerable part of the people retained such a fondness for the customs, and such a reverence for the laws, of their ancestors, that, wishing to see them completely restored, they were not only willing but eager to resume the former, and to recognize the authority of the latter.

But though the feudal form of government, with all the institutions which characterize it, was thus preserved entire in Castile and Aragon, as well as in all the kingdoms which depended on these crowns, there were certain peculiarities in their political constitutions, which distinguish them from those of any other country in Europe. The royal prerogative, extremely limited in every feudal kingdom, was circumscribed, in Spain, within such narrow bounds, as reduced the power of the sovereign almost to nothing. The privileges of the nobility were great in proportion, and extended so far, as to border on absolute independence. The immunities of the cities were likewise greater than in other feudal kingdoms, they possessed considerable influence in the Cortes, and they aspired at obtaining more. Such a state of society, in which the political machine was so ill adjusted, and the several members of the legislature so improperly balanced, produced internal disorders in the kingdoms of Spain, which rose beyond the pitch of turbulence and anarchy usual under the feudal government. The whole tenor of the Spanish history confirms the truth of this observation; and when the mutinous spirit, to which the genius of their policy gave birth and vigor, was no longer restrained and overawed by the immediate dread of the Moorish arms, it broke out into more frequent insurrections against the government of their princes, as well as more outrageous insults on their dignity, than occur in the annals of any other country. These were accompanied at some times with more liberal sentiments concerning the rights of the people, at other times with more elevated notions concerning the privileges of the nobles, than were common in other nations.

In the principality of Catalonia, which was annexed to the kingdom of Aragon, the impatience of the people to obtain the redress of their grievances having prompted them to take arms against their sovereign, John II [AD. 1461], they, by a solemn deed, recalled the oath of allegiance which they had sworn to him, declared him and his posterity to be unworthy of the throne, and endeavored to establish a republican form of government, in order to secure the perpetual enjoyment of that liberty, after which they aspired. Nearly about the same period, the indignation of the Castilian nobility against the weak and flagitious administration of Henry IV, having led them to combine against him, they arrogated, as one of the privileges belonging to their order, the right of trying and of passing sentence on their sovereign. That the exercise of this power might be as public and solemn, as the pretension to it was bold, they summoned all the nobility of their party to meet at Avila [1465]; a spacious theatre was erected in a plain, without the walls of the town; an image, representing the king, was seated on a throne, clad in royal robes, with a crown on its head, a scepter in its hand, and the sword of justice by its side. The accusation against the king was read, and the sentence of deposition was pronounced, in presence of a numerous assembly. At the close of the first article of the charge, the archbishop of Toledo advanced, and tore the crown from the head of the image; at the close of the second, the Conde de Placentia snatched the sword of justice from its side; at the close of the third, the Conde de Benevento wrested the scepter from its hand; at the close of the last, Don Diego Lopes de Stuniga tumbled it headlong from the throne. At the same instant, Don Alphonso, Henry’s brother, was proclaimed king of Castile and Leon in his stead.

The most daring leaders of faction would not have ventured on these measures, nor have conducted them with such public ceremony, if the sentiments of the people concerning the royal dignity had not been so formed by the laws and policy to which they were accustomed both in Castile and Catalonia, as prepared them to approve of such extraordinary proceedings, or to acquiesce in them.

In Aragon, the form of government was monarchical, but the genius and maxims of it were purely republican. The kings who were long elective, retained only the shadow of power; the real exercise of it was in the Cortes or parliament of the kingdom. This supreme assembly was composed of our different arms or members. The nobility of the first rank; The equestrian order, or nobility of the second class; The representatives of the cities and towns whose right to a place in the Cortes, if we may give credit to the historians of Aragon, was coeval with the constitution; The ecclesiastical order, composed of the dignitaries of the church, together with the representatives of the inferior clergy. No law could pass in this assembly without the assent of every single member who had a right to vote. Without the permission of the Cortes, no tax could be impose; no war could be declared; no peace could be concluded; no money could be coined, nor could any alteration be made in the current specie. The power of reviewing the proceedings of all inferior courts, the privilege of inspecting every department of administration, and the right of redressing all grievances, belonged to the Cortes. Nor did those who conceived themselves to be aggrieved, address the Cortes in the humble tone of suppliants, and petition for redress; they demanded it as the forthright of freemen, and required the guardians of their liberty, to decide with respect to the points which they laid before them. This sovereign court was held, during several centuries, every year; but, in consequence of a regulation introduced about the beginning of the fourteenth century, it was convoked from that period only once in two years. After it was assembled, the king had no right to prorogue or dissolve it without its own consent; and the session continued forty days.

Not satisfied with having erected such formidable barriers against the encroachments of the royal prerogative, nor willing to commit the sole guardianship of their liberties entirely to the vigilance and authority of an assembly, similar to the diets, states-general, and parliaments, in which the other feudal nations have placed so much confidence, the Aragonese had recourse to an institution peculiar to themselves, and elected a Justiza or supreme judge. This magistrate, whose office bore some resemblance to that of the Ephori in ancient Sparta, acted as the protector of the people, ant the comptroller of the prince. The person of the justiza was sacred, his power and jurisdiction almost unbounded. He was the supreme interpreter of the laws. Not only inferior judges, but the kings themselves, were bound to consult him in every doubtful case, and to receive his responses with implicit deference. An appeal lay to him from the royal judges, as well as from those appointed by the barons within their respective territories. Even when no appeal was made to him, he could interpose by his own authority, prohibit the ordinary judge to proceed, take immediate cognizance of the court himself, and remove the party accused to the Manifestation, or prison of the state, to which no person had access but by his permission. His power was exerted with no less vigour and effect in superintending the administration of government, than in regulating the courts of justice. It was the prerogative of the justiza, to inspect the conduct of the king. He had a title to review all the royal proclamations and patents, and to declare whether or not they were agreeable to law, and ought to be carried into execution. He, by his sole authority, could exclude any of the king’s ministers from the conduct of affairs, and call them to answer for their maladministration. He himself was accountable to the Cortes only, for the manner in which he discharged the duties of this high office; and performed functions of the greatest importance that could be committed to a subject.

It is evident, from a bare enumeration of the privileges of the Aragonese Cortes, as well as of the rights belonging to the justiza, that a very small portion of power remained in the hands of the king. The Aragonese seem to have been solicitous that their monarchs should know and feel this state of impotence, to which they were reduced. Even in swearing allegiance to their sovereign, an act which ought naturally to be accompanied with professions of submission and respect, they devised an oath, in such a form, as to remind him of his dependence on his subjects. “We”, said the justiza to the king, in name of his high-spirited barons, “who are each of us as good, and who are altogether more powerful than you, promise obedience to your government, if you maintain our rights and liberties; but if not, not”. Conformably to this oath, they established it as a fundamental article in their constitution, that if the king should violate their rights and privileges, it was lawful for the people to disclaim him as their sovereign, and to elect another, even though a heathen, in his place. The attachment of the Aragonese to this singular constitution of government was extreme, and their respect for it approached to superstitious veneration. In the preamble to one of their laws, they declare, that such was the barrenness of their country, and the poverty of the inhabitants, that if it were not on account of the liberties by which they were distinguished from other nations, the people would abandon it, and go in quest of a settlement to some more fruitful region.

In Castile there were not such peculiarities in the form of government, as to establish any remarkable distinction between it and that of the other European nations. The executive part of government was committed to the king, but with a prerogative extremely limited. The legislative authority resided in the Cortes, which was composed of the nobility, the dignified ecclesiastics, and the representatives of the cities. The assembly of the Cortes in Castile was very ancient, and seems to have been almost coeval with the constitution. The members of the three different orders, who had a right of suffrage, met in one place, and deliberated as one collective body; the decisions of which were regulated by the sentiments of the majority. The right of imposing taxes, of enacting laws, and of redressing grievances, belonged to this assembly; and, in order to secure the assent of the king to such statutes and regulations as were deemed salutary or beneficial to the kingdom, it was usual in the Cortes to take no step towards granting money, until all business relative to the public welfare was concluded. The representatives of cities seem to have obtained a seat very early in the Cortes of Castile, and soon acquired such influence and credit, as were very uncommon, at a period when the splendor and pre-eminence of the nobility had eclipsed or depressed all other orders of men. The number of members from cities bore such a proportion to that of the whole collective body, as rendered them extremely respectable in the Cortes. The degree of consideration, which they possessed In the state, may be estimated by one event. Upon the death of John I [AD 1390] a council of regency was appointed to govern the kingdom during the minority of his son. It was composed of an equal number of noblemen, and of deputies chosen by the cities; the latter were admitted to the same rank, and invested with the same powers as prelates and grandees of the first order. But though the members of communities in Castile were elevated above the condition wherein they were placed in other kingdoms of Europe; though they had attained to such political importance, that even the proud and jealous spirit of the feudal aristocracy could not exclude them from a considerable share in government; yet the nobles, notwithstanding these acquisitions of the commons, continued to assert the privileges of their order, in opposition to the crown, in a tone extremely high. There was not any body of nobility, in Europe more distinguished for independence of spirit, haughtiness of deportment, and bold pretensions, than that of Castile. The history of that monarchy affords the most striking examples of the vigilance with which they observed, and of the vigour with which they opposed, every measure of their kings, that tended to encroach on their jurisdiction, to diminish their dignity, or to abridge their power. Even in their ordinary intercourse with their monarchs, they preserved such a consciousness of their rank, that the nobles of the first order claimed it as a privilege to be covered in the royal presence, and approached their sovereigns rather as equals than as subjects.

The constitutions of the subordinate monarchies, which depended on the crowns of Castile and Aragon, nearly resembled those of the kingdoms to which they were annexed. In all of them, the dignity and independence of the nobles were great; the immunities and power of the cities were considerable.

An attentive observation of the singular situation of Spain, as well as the various events which occurred there, from the invasion of the Moors to the union of its kingdoms under Ferdinand and Isabella, will discover the causes to which all the peculiarities in its political constitution I have pointed out, ought to be ascribed.

As the provinces of Spain were wrested from the Mahometans gradually and with difficulty, the nobles who followed the standard of any eminent leader in these wars, conquered not for him alone, but for themselves. They claimed a share in the lands which their valor had won from the enemy, and their prosperity and power increased, in proportion as the territory of the prince extended.

During their perpetual wars with the Moors, the monarchs of the several kingdoms in Spain depended so much on their nobles, that it became necessary, to conciliate their good-will by successive grants of new honors and privileges. By the time that any prince could establish his dominion in a conquered province, the greater part of the territory was parceled out by him among his barons, with such jurisdiction and immunities as raised them almost to sovereign power.

At the same time, the kingdoms erected in so many different corners of Spain, were of inconsiderable extent. The petty monarch was but little elevated above his nobles. They, feeling themselves to be almost his equals, acted as such; and could not look up to the kings of such limited domains with the same reverence that the sovereigns of the great monarchies in Europe were viewed by their subjects.

While these circumstances concurred in exalting the nobility, and in depressing the royal authority, there were other causes which raised the cities in Spain to consideration and power.

As the open country, during the wars with the Moors, was perpetually exposed to the incursions of the enemy, with whom no peace or truce was so permanent as to prove any lasting security, self-preservation obliged persons of all ranks to fix their residence in places of strength. The castles of the barons, which, in other countries, afforded a commodious retreat from the depredations of banditti, or from the transient violence of any interior commotion, were unable to resist an enemy whose operations were conducted with regular and persevering vigour. Cities, in which great numbers united for their mutual defence, were the only places in which people could reside with any prospect of safety. To this was owing the rapid growth of those cities in Spain of which the Christians recovered possession. All who fled from the Moorish yoke resorted to them as to an asylum; and in them, the greater part of those who took the field against the Mahometans established their families.

Several of these cities, during a longer or shorter course of years, were the capitals of little states, and enjoyed all the advantages which accelerate the increase of inhabitants in every place that is the seat of government.

From those concurring causes, the number of cities in Spain, at the beginning of the fifteenth century, had become considerable, and they were peopled far beyond the proportion which was common in other parts of Europe, except in Italy and the Low Countries. The Moors had introduced manufactures into those cities, while under their dominion. The Christians, who, by intermixture with them, had learned their arts, continued to cultivate these. Trade in several of the Spanish towns appears to have been carried on with vigor; and the spirit of commerce continued to preserve the number of their inhabitants. as the sense of danger had first induced them to crowd together.

As the Spanish cities were populous, many of the inhabitants were of a rank superior to those who resided in towns in other countries of Europe. That cause, which contributed chiefly to their population, affected equally persons of every condition, who flocked thither promiscuously, in order to find shelter there, or in hopes of making a stand against the enemy, with greater advantage than in any other station. The persons elected as their representatives in the Cortes by the cities, or promoted to offices of trust and dignity in the government of the community, were often, as will appear from transactions which I shall hereafter relate, of such considerable rank, in the kingdom, as reflected luster on their constituents, and on the stations wherein they were placed.

As it was impossible to carry on a continual war against the Moors, without some other military force than that which the barons were obliged to bring into the field, in consequence of the feudal tenures, it became necessary to have some troops, particularly a body of light cavalry, in constant pay. It was one of the privileges of the nobles, that their lands were exempt from the burden of taxes. The charge of supporting the troops requisite for the public safety, fell wholly upon the cities; and their kings, being obliged frequently to apply to them for aid, found it necessary to gain their favor by concessions, which not only extended their immunities, but added to their wealth and power.

When the influence of all these circumstances, peculiar to Spain, is added to the general and common causes, which contributed to aggrandize cities in other countries of Europe, this will fully account for the extensive privileges which they acquired, as well as for the extraordinary consideration to which they attained, in all the Spanish kingdoms.

By these exorbitant privileges of the nobility, and this unusual power of the cities in Spain, the royal prerogative was hemmed in on every side, and reduced within very narrow bounds. Sensible of this, and impatient of such restraint, several monarchs endeavored at various junctures and by different means, to enlarge their own jurisdiction. Their power, however, or their abilities, were so unequal to the undertaking, that their efforts were attended with little success. But when Ferdinand and Isabella found themselves at the head of the United Kingdoms of Spain, and delivered from the danger and interruption of domestic wars, they were not only in a condition to resume, but were now able to prosecute with advantage, the schemes of extending the prerogative, which their ancestors had attempted in vain. Ferdinand’s profound sagacity in concerting his measures, his persevering industry in conducting them, and his uncommon address in carrying them into execution, fitted him admirably for an undertaking which required all these talents.

As the overgrown power and high pretensions of the nobility were what the monarchs of Spain felt most sensibly, and bore with the greatest impatience, the great object of Ferdinand’s policy was to reduce these within more moderate bounds. Under various pretexts, sometimes by violence, more frequently in consequence of decrees obtained in the courts of law, he wrested from the barons a great part of the lands which had been granted to them by the inconsiderate bounty of former monarchs, particularly during the feeble and profuse reign of his predecessor Henry IV. He did not give the entire conduct of affairs to persons of noble birth, who were accustomed to occupy every department of importance in peace or in war, as if it had been a privilege peculiar to their order, to be employed as the sole counselors and ministers of the crown. He often transacted business of great consequence without their intervention, and bestowed many offices of power and trust on new men, devoted to his interest. He introduced a degree of state and dignity into his court, which being little known in Spain, while it remained split into many small kingdoms, taught the nobles to approach their sovereign with more ceremony, and gradually rendered him the object of greater deference and respect.

The annexing the masterships of the three military orders of Santiago, Calatrava, and Alcantara, to the crown, was another expedient, by which Ferdinand greatly augmented the revenue and power of the kings of Spain. These orders were instituted in imitation of those of the Knights Templars and of St. John of Jerusalem, on purpose to wage perpetual war with the Mahometans, and to protect the pilgrims who visited Compostella, or other places of eminent sanctity in Spain. The zeal and superstition of the ages in which they were founded, prompted persons of every rank to bestow such liberal donations on those holy warriors, that, in a short time, they engrossed a considerable share in the property and wealth of the kingdom. The masterships of these orders came to be stations of the greatest power and opulence to which a Spanish nobleman could be advanced. These high dignities were in the disposal of the knights of the order, and placed the persons on whom they conferred them almost on a level with their sovereign. Ferdinand, unwilling that the nobility, whom he considered as already too formidable, should derive such additional credit and influence from possessing the government of these wealthy fraternities, was solicitous to wrest it out of their hands, and to vest it in the crown. His measures for accomplishing this were wisely planned, and executed with vigor [AD 1476 and 1493]. By addresses, by promises, and by threats, he prevailed on the knights of each order to place Isabella and him at the head of it. Innocent VIII and Alexander VI gave this election the sanction of papal authority; and subsequent pontiffs rendered the annexation of these masterships to the crown perpetual.

While Ferdinand, by this measure, diminished the power and influence of the nobility, and added new luster or authority to the crown, he was taking other important steps with a view to the same object. The sovereign jurisdiction, which the feudal barons exercised within their own territories, was the pride and distinction of their order. To have invaded openly a privilege which they prized so highly, and in defence of which they would have run so eagerly to arms, was a measure too daring for a prince of Ferdinand’s cautious temper. He took advantage, however, of an opportunity which the state of his kingdoms and the spirit of his people presented him, in order to undermine what he durst not assault. The incessant depredations of the Moors, the want of discipline among the troops which were employed to oppose them, the frequent civil wars between the crown and the nobility, as well as the undiscerning rage with which the barons carried on their private wars with each other, filled all the provinces of Spain with disorder. Rapine, outrage, and murder, became as common as not only to interrupt commerce, but in a great measure to suspend all intercourse between one place and another. That security and protection, which men expect from entering into civil society, ceased in a great degree. Internal order and police, while the feudal institutions remained in vigour, were so little objects of attention, and the administration of justice was so extremely feeble, that it would have been vain to have expected relief from the established laws or the ordinary judges. But the evil became so intolerable, and the inhabitants of cities, who were the chief sufferers, grew so impatient of this anarchy, that self-preservation forced them to have recourse to an extraordinary remedy. About the middle of the thirteenth century (1260), the cities in the kingdom of Aragon, and after their example, those in Castile, formed themselves into an association distinguished by the name of the Holy Brotherhood. They exacted a certain contribution from each of the associated towns: they levied a considerable body of troops, in order to protect travelers, and to pursue criminals: they appointed judges, who opened their courts in various parts of the kingdom. Whoever was guilty of murder, robbery, or of any act that violated the public peace, and was seized by the troops of the Brotherhood, was carried before judges of their nomination, who, without paying any regard to the exclusive and sovereign jurisdiction, which the lord of the place might claim, tried and condemned the criminals. By the establishment of this fraternity, the prompt and impartial administration of justice was restored; and, together with it, internal tranquility and order began to return. The nobles alone murmured at this salutary institution. They complained of it, as an encroachment on one of their most valuable privileges. They remonstrated against it in a high tone; and, on some occasions, refused to grant any aid to the crown, unless it were abolished. Ferdinand, however, was sensible not only of the good effects of the Holy Brotherhood with respect to the police of his kingdoms, but perceived its tendency to abridge, and at length to annihilate, the territorial jurisdiction of the nobility. He countenanced it on every occasion. He supported it with the whole force of royal authority; and besides the expedients employed by him in common with the other monarchs of Europe, he availed himself of this institution, which was peculiar to his kingdom, in order to limit and abolish that independent jurisdiction of the nobility, which was no less inconsistent with the authority of the prince, than with the order of society.

But though Ferdinand by these measures considerably enlarged the boundaries of prerogative, and acquired a degree of influence and power far beyond what any of his predecessors had enjoyed, yet the limitations of the royal authority, as well as the barriers against its encroachments, continued to be many and strong. The spirit of liberty was vigorous among the people of Spain; the spirit of independence was high among the nobility; and though the love of glory, peculiar to the Spaniards in every period of their history, prompted them to support Ferdinand with zeal in his foreign operations, and to afford him such aid as enabled him not only to undertake but to execute great enterprises; he reigned over his subjects with a jurisdiction less extensive than that of any of the great monarchs in Europe. It will appear from many passages in the following history, that during a considerable part of the reign of his successor Charles V the prerogative of the Spanish crown was equally circumscribed.

The Kingdom of France

The ancient government and laws in France so nearly resembled those of the other feudal kingdoms, that such a detail with respect to them as was necessary, in order to convey some idea of the nature and effects of the peculiar institutions which took place in Spain, would be superfluous. In the view which I have exhibited of the means by which the French monarchs acquired such a full command of the national force of their kingdom, as enabled them to engage in extensive schemes of foreign operation, I have already pointed out the great steps by which they advanced towards a more ample possession of political power, and a more uncontrolled exercise of their royal prerogative. All that now remains is to take notice of such particulars in the constitution of France, as serve either to distinguish it from that of other countries, or tend to throw any light on the transactions of that period, to which the following history extends.

Under the French monarchs of the first race, the royal prerogative was very inconsiderable. The general assemblies of the nation, which met annually at stated seasons, extended their authority to every department of government. The power of electing kings, of enacting laws, of redressing grievances, of conferring donations on the prince, of passing judgment in the last resort, with respect to every person and to every cause, resided in this great convention of the nation. Under the second race of kings, notwithstanding the power and splendor which the conquests of Charlemagne added to the crown, the general assemblies of the nation continued to possess extensive authority. The right of determining which of the royal family should be placed on the throne, was vested in them. The princes, elevated to that dignity by their suffrage, were ac­customed regularly to call and to consult them with respect to every affair of importance to the state, and without their consent no law was passed, and no new tax was levied.

But, by the time that Hugh Capet, the father of the third race of kings, took possession of the throne of France, such changes had happened in the political state of the kingdom, as considerably affected the power and jurisdiction of the general assembly of the nation. The royal authority, in the hands of the degenerate posterity of Charlemagne, had dwindled into insignificance and contempt. Every considerable proprietor of land had formed his territory into a barony, almost independent of the sovereign. The dukes or governors of provinces, the counts or governors of towns and small districts, and the great officers of the crown, had rendered these dignities, which originally were granted only during pleasure or for life, hereditary in their families. Each of these had usurped all the rights which hitherto had been deemed the distinctions of royalty, particularly the privileges of dispensing justice within their own domains, of coining money, and of waging war. Every district was governed by local customs, acknowledged a distinct lord, and pursued a separate interest. The formality of doing homage to their sovereign, was almost the only act of subjection which those haughty barons would perform, and that bound them no farther than they were willing to acknowledge its obligations.

In a kingdom broken into so many independent baronies, hardly any common principle of union remained; and the general assembly, in its deliberations, could scarcely consider the nation as forming one body, or establish common regulations to be of equal force in every part. Within the immediate domains of the crown, the king might publish laws, and they were obeyed, because there he was acknowledged as the only lord. But if he had aimed at rendering these laws general, that would have alarmed the barons as an encroachment upon the independence of their jurisdiction. The barons, when met in the great national convention, avoided, with no less care, the enacting of general laws to be observed in every part of the kingdom, because the execution of them must have been vested in the king, and would have enlarged that paramount power, which was the object of their jealousy. Thus, under the descendants of Hugh Capet, the States General (for that was the name by which the supreme assembly of the French nation came then to be distinguished) lost their legislative authority, or at least entirely relinquished the exercise of it. From that period, the jurisdiction of the States General extended no farther than to the imposition of new taxes, the determination of questions with respect to the right of succession to the crown, the settling of the regency when the preceding monarch had not fixed it by his will, and the presenting remonstrances enumerating the grievances of which the nation wished to obtain redress.

As, during several centuries, the monarchs of Europe seldom demanded extraordinary subsidies of their subjects, and the other events, which required the interposition of the States, rarely occurred, their meetings in France were not frequent. They were summoned occasionally by their kings, when compelled by their wants or their fears to have recourse to the great convention of their people; but they did not, like the Diet in Germany, the Cortes in Spain, or the Parliament in England, form an essential member of the constitution, the regular exertion of whose powers was requisite to give vigour and order to government.

When the states of France ceased to exercise legislative authority, the kings began to assume it. They ventured at first on acts of legislation with great reserve, and after taking every precaution that could prevent their subjects from being alarmed at the exercise of a new power. They did not at once issue their ordinances in a tone of authority and command. They treated with their subjects; they pointed out what was best; and allured them to comply with it. By degrees, however, as the prerogative of the crown extended, and as the supreme jurisdiction of the royal courts came to be established, the kings of France assumed more openly the style and authority of lawgivers; and, before the beginning of the fifteenth century, the complete legislative power was vested in the crown.

Having secured this important acquisition, the steps which led to the right of imposing taxes were rendered few and easy. The people, accustomed to see their sovereigns issue ordinances, by their sole authority, which regulated points of the greatest consequence with respect to the property of their subjects, were not alarmed when they were required, by the royal edicts, to contribute certain sums towards supplying the exigencies of government, and carrying forward the measures of the nation. When Charles VII and Louis XI first ventured to exercise this new power, in the manner which I have already described, the gradual increase of the royal authority had so imperceptibly prepared the minds of the people of France for this innovation, that it excited no commotion in the kingdom, and seems scarcely to have given rise to any murmur or complaint.

When the kings of France had thus engrossed every power which can be exerted in government; when the right of making laws, of levying money, of keeping an army of mercenaries in constant pay, of declaring war, and of concluding peace, centered in the crown, the constitution of the kingdom, which, under the first race of kings, was nearly democratical; which, under the second race, became an aristocracy; terminated, under the third race, in a pure monarchy. Everything that tended to preserve the appearance or revive the memory of the ancient mixed government, seems from that period to have been industriously avoided. During the long and active reign of Francis I the variety as well as extent of whose operations obliged him to lay many heavy impositions on his subjects, the States General of France were not once assembled, nor were the people once allowed to exert the power of taxing themselves, which, according to the original ideas of feudal government, was a right essential to every freeman.

Two things, however, remained, which moderated the exercise of the regal prerogative, and restrained it within such bounds as preserved the constitution of France from degenerating into mere despotism. The rights and privileges claimed by the nobility, must be considered as one barrier against the absolute dominion of the crown. Though the nobles of France had lost that political power which was vested in their order as a body, they still retained the personal rights and pre-eminence which they derived from their rank. They preserved a consciousness of elevation above other classes of citizens; an exemption from burdens to which persons of inferior condition were subject; a contempt of the occupations in which they were engaged; the privilege of assuming ensigns that indicated their own dignity; a right to be treated with a certain degree of deference during peace; and a claim to various distinctions when in the field. Many of these pretensions were not founded on the words of statutes, or derived from positive laws; they were defined and ascertained by the maxims of honor, a title more delicate, but no less sacred. These rights, established and protected by a principle equally vigilant in guarding, and intrepid in defending them, are to the sovereign himself objects of respect and veneration. Wherever they stand in its way, the royal prerogative is bounded. The violence of a despot may exterminate such an order of men; but as long as it subsists, and its ideas of personal distinction remain entire, the power of the prince has limits.

As in France the body of nobility was very numerous, and the individuals of which it was composed, retained a high sense of their own pre­eminence, to this we may ascribe, in a great measure, the mode of exercising the royal prerogative which peculiarly distinguishes the government of that kingdom. An intermediate order was placed between the monarch and his other subjects; in every act of authority it became necessary to attend to its privileges, and not only to guard against any real violation of them, but to avoid any suspicion of supposing it to be possible that they might be violated. Thus a species of government was established in France, unknown in the ancient world, that of a monarchy, in which the power of the sovereign, though unconfined by any legal or constitutional restraint, has certain bounds set to it by the ideas which one class of his subjects entertain concerning their own dignity.

The jurisdiction of the parliaments in France, particularly that of Paris, was the other barrier which served to confine the exercise of the royal prerogative within certain limits. The parliament of Paris was originally the court of the kings of France, to which they committed the supreme administration of justice within their own domains, as well as the power of deciding with respect to all cases brought before it by appeals from the courts of the barons. When in consequence of events and regulations which have been mentioned formerly, the time and place of its meeting were fixed, when not only the form of its procedure, but the principles on which it decided, were rendered regular and consistent, when every cause of importance was finally determined there, and when the people became accustomed to resort thither as to the supreme temple of justice, the parliament of Paris rose to high estimation in the kingdom, its members acquired dignity, and its decrees were submitted to with deference. Nor was this the only source of the power and influence which the parliament obtained. The kings of France, when they first began to assume the legislative power, in order to reconcile the minds of their people to this new exertion of prerogative, produced their edicts and ordinances in the parliament of Paris, that they might be approved of and registered there, before they were published and declared to be of authority in the kingdom. During the intervals between the meetings of the States General of the kingdom, or during those reigns in which the States General were not assembled, the monarchs of France were accustomed to consult the parliament of Paris with respect to the most arduous affairs of government, and frequently regulated their conduct by its advice, in declaring war, in concluding peace, and in other transactions of public concern. Thus there was erected in the kingdom a tribunal which became the great depository of the laws, and by the uniform tenor of its decrees established principles of justice and forms of proceeding which were considered so sacred, that even the sovereign power of the monarch durst not venture to disregard or to violate them.

The members of this illustrious body, though they neither possess legislative authority, nor can be considered as the representatives of the people, have availed themselves of the reputation and influence which they had acquired among their countrymen, in order to make a stand to the utmost of their ability, against every unprecedented and exorbitant exertion of the prerogative. In every period of the French history, they have merited the praise of being the virtuous but feeble guardians of the rights and privileges of the nation.

The German Empire

After taking this view of state of France, I proceed to consider that of the German empire, from which Charles V derived his title of highest dignity. In explaining the constitution of this great and complex body at the beginning of the sixteenth century, I shall avoid entering into such a detail as would involve my readers in that inextricable labyrinth, which is formed by the multiplicity of its tribunals, the number of its members, their interfering rights, and by the endless discussions or refinements of the public lawyers of Germany, with respect to all these.

The empire of Charlemagne was a structure erected in so short a time, that it could not be permanent. Under his immediate successor it began to totter; and soon after fell to pieces. The crown of Germany was separated from that of France, and the descendants of Charlemagne established two great monarchies so situated as to give rise to a perpetual rivalship and enmity between them. But the princes of the race of Charlemagne who were placed on the Imperial throne, were not altogether so degenerate, as those of the same family who reigned in France. In the hands of the former the royal authority retained some vigor, and the nobles of Germany, though possessed of extensive privileges as well as ample territories, did not so early attain independence. The great offices of the crown continued to be at the disposal of the sovereign, and during a long period, fiefs remained in their original state, without becoming hereditary and perpetual in the families of the persons to whom they had been granted.

At length the German branch of the family of Charlemagne became extinct, and his feeble descendants who reigned in France had sunk into such contempt, that the Germans, without looking towards them, exercised the right inherent in a free people; and in a general assembly of the nation elected Conrad count of Franconia emperor [911]. After him Henry of Saxony, and his descendants the three Othos, were placed, in succession, on the Imperial throne, by the suffrages of their countrymen. The extensive territories of the Saxon emperors, their eminent abilities and enterprising genius, not only added new vigour to the Imperial dignity, but raised it to higher power and preeminence. Otho the Great marched at the head of a numerous army into Italy [952], and after the example of Charlemagne, gave law to that country. Every power there acknowledged his authority. He created popes, and deposed them by his sovereign mandate. He annexed the kingdom of Italy to the German empire. Elated with his success, he assumed the title of Cesar Augustus. A prince, born in the heart of Germany, pretended to be the successor of the emperors of ancient Rome, and claimed a right to the same power and prerogative.

But while the emperors, by means of these new titles and new dominions, gradually acquired additional authority and splendor, the nobility of Germany had gone on at the same time, extending their privileges and jurisdiction. The situation of affairs was favorable to their attempts. The vigour which Charlemagne had given to government quickly relaxed. The incapacity of some of his successors was such, as would have encouraged vassals less enterprising than the nobles of that age, to have claimed new rights, and to have assumed new powers. The civil wars in which other emperors were engaged, obliged them to pay perpetual court to their subjects, on whose support they depended, and not only to connive at their usurpations, but to permit, and even to authorize them. Fiefs gradually became hereditary. They were transmitted not only in the direct, but also in the collateral line. The investiture of them was demanded not only by male but by female heirs. Every baron began to exercise sovereign jurisdiction within his own domains; and the dukes and counts of Germany took wide steps towards rendering their territories distinct and independent states. The Saxon emperors observed their progress, and were aware of its tendency. But as they could not hope to humble vassals already grown too potent, unless they had turned their whole force as well as attention to that enterprise, and as they were extremely intent on their expeditions into Italy, which they could not undertake without the concurrence of their nobles, they were solicitous not to alarm them by any direct attack on their privileges and jurisdictions. They aimed, however, at undermining their power. With this view, they inconsiderately bestowed additional territories, and accumulated new honors on the clergy, in hopes that this order might serve as a counterpoise to that of the nobility in any future struggle.

The unhappy effects of this fatal error in policy were quickly felt. Under the emperors of the Franconian and Suabian lines, whom the Germans, by their voluntary election, placed on the Imperial throne, a new face of things appeared, and a scene was exhibited in Germany, which astonished all Christendom at that time [1024], and in the present age appears almost incredible. The popes, hitherto dependent on the emperors, and indebted for power as well as dignity to their beneficence and protection, began to claim a superior jurisdiction; and, in virtue of authority which they pretended to derive from heaven, tried, condemned, excommunicated, and deposed their former masters. Nor is this to be considered merely as a frantic sally of passion in a pontiff intoxicated with high ideas concerning the extent of priestly domination, and the plenitude of papal authority. Gregory VII was able as well as daring. His presumption and violence were accompanied with political discernment and sagacity. He had observed that the princes and nobles of Germany had acquired such considerable territories and such extensive jurisdiction, as rendered them not only formidable to the emperors, but disposed them to favor any attempt to circumscribe their power. He foresaw that the ecclesiastics of Germany, raised almost to a level with its princes, were ready to support any person who would stand forth as the protector of their privileges and independence. With both of these Gregory negotiated, and had secured many devoted adherents among them, before he ventured to enter the lists against the head of the empire.

He began his rupture with Henry IV upon a pretext that was popular and plausible. He complained of the venality and corruption with which the emperor had granted the investiture of benefices to ecclesiastics. He contended that this right belonged to him as head of the church; he required Henry to confine himself within the bounds of his civil jurisdiction, and to abstain for the future from such sacrilegious encroachments on the spiritual dominion. All the censures of the church were denounced against Henry, because he refused to relinquish those powers which his predecessors had uniformly exercised. The most considerable of the German princes and ecclesiastics were excited to take arms against him. His mother, his wife, his sons, were wrought upon to disregard all the ties of blood as well as of duty, and to join the party of his enemies. Such were the successful arts with which the court of Rome inflamed the superstitious zeal, and conducted the factious spirit of the Germans and Italians, that an emperor, distinguished not only for many virtues, but possessed of considerable talents, was at length obliged to appear as a suppliant at the gate of the castle in which the pope resided, and to stand there three days, barefooted, in the depth of winter, imploring a pardon, which at length he obtained with difficulty.

This act of humiliation degraded the Imperial dignity. Nor was the depression momentary only. The contest between Gregory and Henry gave rise to the two great factions of the Guelfs and Ghibellines; the former of which supporting the pretensions of the popes, and the latter defending the rights of the emperor, kept Germany and Italy in perpetual agitation during three centuries. A regular system for humbling the emperors and circumscribing their power was formed, and adhered to uniformly throughout that period. The popes, the free states in Italy, the nobility and ecclesiastics of Germany, were all interested in its success: and notwithstanding the return of some short intervals of vigor, under the administration of a few able emperors, the Imperial authority continued to decline. During the anarchy of the long interregnum, subsequent to the death of William of Holland [1256], it dwindled down almost to nothing. Rudolph of Hapsburg, the founder of the House of Austria, and who first opened the way to its future grandeur, was at length elected emperor [1271], not that he might reestablish and extend the Imperial authority, but because his territories and influence were so inconsiderable as to excite no jealousy in the German princes, who were willing to preserve the forms of a constitution, the power and vigor of which they had destroyed. Several of his successors were placed on the Imperial throne from the same motive; and almost every remaining prerogative was rescued out of the hands of feeble princes unable to exercise or to defend them.

During this period of turbulence and confusion, the constitution of the Germanic body underwent a total change. The ancient names of courts and magistrates, together with the original forms and appearance of policy, were preserved; but such new privileges and jurisdiction were assumed, and so many various rights established, that the same species of government no longer subsisted. The princes, the great nobility, the dignified ecclesiastics, the free cities, had taken advantage of the interregnum, which I have mentioned, to establish or to extend their usurpations. They claimed and exercised the right of governing their respective territories with full sovereignty. They acknowledged no superior with respect to any point, relative to the interior administration and police of their domains. They enacted laws, imposed taxes, coined money, declared war, concluded peace, and exerted every prerogative peculiar to independent states. The ideas of order and political union, which had originally formed the various provinces of Germany into one body, were almost entirely lost; and the society must have dissolved, if the forms of feudal subordination had not preserved such an appearance of connection or dependence among the various members of the community, as preserved it from falling to pieces.

This bond of union, however, was extremely feeble and hardly any principle remained in the German constitution, of sufficient force to maintain public order, or even to ascertain personal security. From the accession of Rudolph of Hapsburg, to the reign of Maximilian, the immediate predecessor of Charles V, the empire felt every calamity which a state must endure, when the authority of government is so much relaxed as to have lost its proper degree of vigor. The causes of dissension among that vast number of members, which composed the Germanic body, were infinite and unavoidable. These gave rise to perpetual private wars, which were carried on with all the violence that usually accompanies resentment, when unrestrained by superior authority. Rapine, outrage, exactions, became universal. Commerce was interrupted; industry suspended; and every part of Germany resembled a country which an enemy had plundered and left desolate. The variety of expedients employed with a view to restore order and tranquility, prove that the grievances occasioned by this state of anarchy had grown intolerable. Arbiters were appointed to terminate the differences among the several states. The cities united in a league, the object of which was to check the rapine and extortions of the nobility. The nobility formed confederacies, on purpose to maintain tranquility among their own order. Germany was divided into several circles, in each of which a provincial and partial jurisdiction was established, to supply the place of a public and common tribunal.

But all these remedies were so ineffectual, that they served only to demonstrate the violence of that anarchy which prevailed, and the insufficiency of the means employed to correct it. At length Maximilian re-established public order in the empire, by instituting the imperial chamber [1495], a tribunal composed of judges named partly by the emperor, partly by the several states, and vested with authority to decide filially concerning all differences among the members of the Germanic body. A few years after [1512] by giving a new form to the Aulic council, which takes cognizance of all feudal causes, and such as belong to the emperor’s immediate jurisdiction, he restored some degree of vigor to the imperial authority.

But notwithstanding the salutary effects of these regulations and improvements, the political constitution of the German empire, at the commencement of the period of which I propose to write the history, was of a species so peculiar, as not to resemble perfectly any form of government known either in the ancient or modern world. It was a complex body, formed by the association of several states, each of which possessed sovereign and independent jurisdiction within its own territories. Of all the members which composed this united body, the emperor was the head. In his name, all decrees and regulations, with respect to points of common concern, were issued; and to him the power of carrying them into execution was committed. But this appearance of monarchical power in the emperor was more than counterbalanced by the influence of the princes and states of the empire in every act of administration. No law extending to the whole body could pass, no resolution that affected the general interest could be taken, without the approbation of the diet of the empire. In this assembly, every sovereign prince and state of the Germanic body had a right to be present, to deliberate, and to vote. The decrees or recesses of the diet were the laws of the empire, which the emperor was bound to ratify and enforce.

Under this aspect, the constitution of the empire appears a regular confederacy, similar to the Achaean league in ancient Greece, or to that of the United Provinces and of the Swiss Cantons in modern times. But if viewed in another light, striking peculiarities in its political state present themselves. The Germanic body was not formed by the union of members altogether distinct and independent. All the princes and states joined in this association, were originally subject to the emperors, and acknowledged them as sovereigns. Besides this, they originally held their lands as Imperial fiefs, and in consequence of this tenure owed the emperors all those services which feudal vassals are bound to perform to their liege lord. But though this political subjection was entirely at an end, and the influence of the feudal relation much diminished, the ancient forms and institutions, introduced while the emperors governed Germany with authority not inferior to that which the other monarchs of Europe possessed, still remained. Thus an opposition was established between the genius of the government, and the forms of administration in the German empire. The former considered the emperor only as the head of a confederacy, the members of which, by their voluntary choice, have raised him to that dignity; the latter seemed to imply, that he is really invested with sovereign power. By this circumstance, such principles of hostility and discord were interwoven into the frame of the Germanic body, as affected each of its members, rendering their interior union incomplete, and their external efforts feeble and irregular. The pernicious influence of this defect inherent in the constitution of the empire is so considerable, that, without attending to it, we cannot fully comprehend many transactions in the reign of Charles V or form just ideas concerning the genius of the German government.

The emperors of Germany, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, were distinguished by the most pompous titles, and by such ensigns of dignity, as intimated their authority to be superior to that of all other monarchs. The greatest princes of the empire attended, and served them, on some occasions, as the officers of their household. They exercised prerogatives which no other sovereign ever claimed. They retained pretensions to all the extensive powers which their predecessors had enjoyed in any former age. But, at the same time, instead of possessing that ample domain which had belonged to the ancient emperors of Germany, and which stretched from Basil to Cologne, along both banks of the Rhine, they were stripped of all territorial property, and had not a single city, a single castle, a single foot of land, that belonged to them, as heads of the empire. As their domain was alienated, their stated revenues were reduced almost to nothing; and the extraordinary aids, which on a few occasions they obtained, were granted sparingly and paid with reluctance. The princes and states of the empire, though they seemed to recognize the Imperial authority, were subjects only in name, each of them possessing a complete municipal jurisdiction within the precincts of his own territories.

From this ill-compacted frame of government, effects that were unavoidable resulted. The emperors, dazzled with the splendor of their titles, and the external signs of vast authority, were apt to imagine themselves to be the real sovereigns of Germany, and were led to aim continually at recovering the exercise of those powers which the forms of the constitution seemed to vest in them, and which their predecessors, Charlemagne and the Othos, had actually enjoyed. The princes and states, aware of the nature as well as extent of these pretensions, were perpetually on their guard, in order to watch all the motions of the Imperial court, and to circumscribe its power within limits still more narrow. The emperors, in support of their claims, appealed to ancient forms and institutions, which the states held to be obsolete. The states founded their rights on recent practice and modern privileges, which the emperors considered as usurpations.

This jealousy of the Imperial authority, together with the opposition between it and the rights of the states, increased considerably from the time that the emperors were elected, not by the collective body of German nobles, but by a few princes of chief dignity. During a long period, all the members of the Germanic body had a right to assemble, and to make choice of the person whom they appointed to be their head. But amidst the violence and anarchy which prevailed for several centuries in the empire, seven princes who possessed the most extensive territories, and who had obtained a hereditary title to the great offices of the state, acquired the exclusive privilege of nominating the emperor. This right was confirmed to them by the Golden Bull: the mode of exercising it was ascertained, and they were dignified with the appellation of Electors. The nobility and free cities being thus stripped of a privilege which they had once enjoyed, were less connected with a prince, towards whose elevation they had not contributed by their suffrages, and came to be more apprehensive of his authority. The electors, by their extensive power, and the distinguishing privileges which they possessed, became formidable to the emperors, with whom they were placed almost on a level in several acts of jurisdiction. Thus the introduction of the electoral college into the empire, and the authority which it acquired, instead of diminishing, contributed to strengthen, the principles of hostility and discord in the Germanic constitution.

These were further augmented by the various and repugnant forms of civil policy in the several states which composed the Germanic body. It is no easy matter to render the union of independent states perfect and entire, even when the genius and forms of their respective governments happen to be altogether similar. But in the Germanic empire, which was a confederacy of princes, of ecclesiastics, and of free cities, it was impossible that they could incorporate thoroughly. The free cities were small republics, in which the maxims and spirit peculiar to that species of government prevailed. The princes and nobles, to whom supreme jurisdiction belonged, possessed a sort of monarchical power within their own territories, and the forms of their interior administration nearly resembled those of the great feudal kingdoms. The interests, the ideas, the objects of states so differently constituted, cannot be the same. Nor could their common deliberations be carried on with the same spirit, while the love of liberty, and attention to commerce, were the reigning principles in the cities; while the desire of power, and ardor for military glory, were the governing passions of the princes and nobility.

The secular and ecclesiastical members of the empire were as little fitted for union as the free cities and the nobility. Considerable territories had been granted to several of the bishoprics and abbeys, and some of the highest offices in the empire having been annexed to them inalienably, were held by the ecclesiastics raised to these dignities. The younger sons of noblemen of the second order, who had devoted themselves to the church, were commonly promoted to these stations of eminence and power; and it was no small mortification to the princes and great nobility, to see persons raised from an inferior rank to the same level with themselves, or even exalted to superior dignity. The education of these churchmen, the genius of their profession, and their connection with the court of Rome, rendered their character as well as their interest different from those of the other members of the Germanic body, with whom they were called to act in concert. Thus another source of jealousy and variance was opened, which ought not to be overlooked when we are searching into the nature of the German constitution.

To all these causes of dissension may be added one more, arising from the unequal distribution of power and wealth among the states of the empire. The electors, and other nobles of the highest rank, not only possessed sovereign jurisdiction, but governed such extensive, populous, and rich countries, as rendered them great princes. Many of the other members, though they enjoyed all the rights of sovereignty, ruled over such petty domains, that their real power bore no proportion to this high prerogative. A well compacted and vigorous confederacy could not be formed of such dissimilar states. The weaker were jealous, timid, and unable either to assert or defend their just privileges. The more powerful were apt to assume and to become oppressive. The electors and emperors, by turns, endeavored to extend their own authority, by encroaching on those feeble members of the Germanic body, who sometimes defended their rights with much spirit, but more frequently, being overawed or corrupted, they tamely surrendered their privileges, or meanly favored the designs formed against them.

After contemplating all these principles of disunion and opposition in the constitution of the German empire, it will be easy to account for the want of concord and uniformity, conspicuous in its councils and proceedings. That slow, dilatory, distrustful, and irresolute spirit, which characterizes all its deliberations, will appear natural in a body, the junction of whose members was so incomplete, the different parts of which were held together by such feeble ties, and set at variance by such powerful motives. But the empire of Germany, nevertheless, comprehended countries of such great extent, and was inhabited by such a martial and hardy race of men, that when the abilities of an emperor, or zeal for any common cause, could rouse this unwieldy body to put forth its strength, it acted with almost irresistible force. In the following history we shall find, that as the measures on which Charles V was most intent, were often thwarted or rendered abortive by the spirit of jealousy and division peculiar to the Germanic constitution; so it was by the influence which he acquired over the prices of the empire, and by engaging them to co-operate with him, that he was enabled to make some of the greatest efforts which distinguish his reign. 

THE TURKISH EMPIRE

The Turkish history is so blended, during the reign of Charles V with that of the great nations in Europe, and the Ottoman Porte interposed so often, and with such decisive influence, in the wars and negotiations of the Christian princes, that some previous account of the state of government in that great empire is no less necessary for the information of my readers, than those views of the constitution of other kingdoms which I have already exhibited to them.

It has been the fate of the southern and more fertile parts of Asia, at different periods, to be conquered by that warlike and hardy race of men, who inhabit the vast country known to the ancients by the name of Scythia, and among the modern by that of Tartary. One tribe of these people, called Turks or Turcomans, extended its conquests, under various leaders, and during several centuries, from the Caspian Sea to the straits of the Dardanelles. Towards the middle of the fifteenth century, these formidable conquerors took Constantinople by storm, and established the seat of their government in that imperial city. Greece, Moldavia, Walachia, and the other provinces of the ancient kingdoms of Thrace and Macedonia, together with part of Hungary, were subjected to their power.

But though the seat of the Turkish government was fixed in Europe, and the sultans obtained possession of such extensive dominions in that quarter of the globe, the genius of their policy continued to be purely Asiatic; and may be properly termed a despotism, in contradistinction to those monarchical and republican forms of government which we have been hitherto contemplating. The supreme power was vested in sultans of the Ottoman race, that blood being deemed so sacred, that no other was thought worthy of the throne. From this elevation, these sovereigns could look down and behold all their subjects reduced to the same level before them. The maxims of Turkish policy do not authorize any of those institutions, which in other countries, limit the exercise, or moderate the rigor of monarchical power; they admit neither of any great court with constitutional and permanent jurisdiction to interpose, both in enacting laws, and in superintending the execution of them; nor of a body of hereditary nobles, whose sense of their own pre-eminence, whose consciousness of what is due to their rank and character, whose jealousy of their privileges circumscribe the authority of the prince, and serve not only as a barrier against the excesses of his caprice, but stand as an intermediate order between him and the people. Under the Turkish government, the political condition of every subject is equal. To be employed in the service of the sultan is the only circumstance that confers distinction. Even this distinction is rather official than personal, and so closely annexed to the station in which any individual serves, that it is scarcely communicated to the persons of those who are placed in them. The highest dignity in the empire does not give any rank or pre-eminence to the family of him who enjoys it. As every man, before he is raised to any station of authority, must go through the preparatory discipline of a long and servile obedience, the moment he is deprived of power, he and his posterity return to the same condition with other subjects, and sink back into obscurity. It is the distinguishing and odious characteristic of Eastern despotism, that it annihilates all other ranks of men, in order to exalt the monarch; that it leaves nothing to the former, while it gives everything to the latter; that it endeavors to fix in the minds of those who are subject to it, the idea of no relation between men, but that of a master and of a slave, the former destined to command and to punish, the latter formed to tremble and to obey.

But as there are circumstances which frequently obstruct or defeat the salutary effects of the best regulated governments, there are others which contribute to mitigate the evils of the most defective forms of policy. There can, indeed, be no constitutional restraints upon the will of a prince in a despotic government; but there may be such as are accidental. Absolute as the Turkish sultans were, they felt themselves circumscribed both by religion, the principle on which their authority is founded, and by the army, the instrument which they must employ in order to maintain it. Wherever religion interposes, the will of the sovereign must submit to its decrees. When the Koran hath prescribed its religious rite, hath enjoined any moral duty, or bath confirmed by its sanction any political maxim, the command of the sultan cannot overturn that which a higher authority hath established. The chief restriction, however, on the will of the sultans, is imposed by the military power. An armed force must surround the throne of every despot, to maintain his authority, and to execute his commands. As the Turks extended their empire over nations which they did not exterminate, but reduce to subjection, they found it necessary to render their military establishment numerous and formidable. Amurath, their third sultan, in order to form a body of troops devoted to his will, that might serve as the immediate guards of his person and dignity, commanded his officers to seize annually as the Imperial property, the fifth part of the youth taken in war [AD 1362]. These, after being instructed in the Mahometan religion, inured to obedience by severe discipline, and trained to warlike exercises, were formed into a body distinguished by the name of Janizaries, or new soldiers. Every sentiment which enthusiasm can inspire, every mark of distinction that the favor of the prince could confer, were employed in order to animate this body with martial ardor, and with a consciousness of its own pre-eminence. The Janizaries soon became the chief strength and pride of the Ottoman armies; and, by their number as well as reputation, were distinguished above all the troops whose duty it was to attend on the person of the sultan.

Thus, as the supreme power in every society is possessed by those who have arms in their hands, this formidable body of soldiers, destined to be the instruments of enlarging the sultan’s authority, acquired at the same time, the means of controlling it. The Janizaries in Constantinople, like the Praetorian bands in ancient Rome, quickly perceived all the advantages which they derived from being stationed in the capital; from their union under one standard; and from being masters of the person of the prince. The sultans became no less sensible of their influence and importance. The Capiculy, or soldiery of the Porte, was the only power in the empire that a sultan or his vizier had reason to dread. To preserve the fidelity and attachment of the Janizaries, was the great art of government, and the principal object of attention in the policy of the Ottoman court. Under a monarch, whose abilities and vigor of mind fit him for command, they are obsequious instruments; execute whatever he enjoins; and render his power irresistible. Under feeble princes, or such as are unfortunate, they become turbulent and mutinous; assume the tone of masters; degrade and exalt sultans at pleasure; and teach those to tremble, on whose nod, at other times, life and death depend.

From Mahomet II who took Constantinople, to Solyman the Magnificent, who began his reign a few months after Charles V was placed on the Imperial throne of Germany, a succession of illustrious princes ruled over the Turkish empire. By their great abilities, they kept their subjects of every order, military as well as civil, submissive to government; and had the absolute command of whatever force their vast empire was able to exert. Solyman in particular, who is known to the Christians chiefly as a conqueror, but is celebrated in the Turkish annals, as the great law­giver who established order and police in their empire, governed, during his long reign, with no less authority than wisdom. He divided his dominions into several districts; he appointed the number of soldiers which each should furnish; he appropriated a certain proportion of the land in every province for their maintenance; he regulated, with a minute accuracy, everything relative to their discipline, their arms, and the nature of their service. He put the finances of the empire into an orderly train of administration; and, though the taxes in the Turkish dominions, as well as in the other despotic monarchies of the East, are far from being considerable, he supplied that defect by an attentive and severe economy.

Nor was it only under such sultans as Solyman; whose talents were no less adapted to preserve internal order than to conduct the operations of war, that the Turkish empire engaged with advantage in its contests with the Christian states. The long succession of able princes, which I have mentioned, had given such vigor and firmness to the Ottoman government, that it seems to have attained, during the sixteenth century, the highest degree of perfection of which its constitution was capable. Whereas the great monarchies in Christendom were still far from that state, which could enable them to act with a full exertion of their force. Besides this, the Turkish troops in that age possessed every advantage which arises from superiority in military discipline. At the time when Solyman began his reign, the Janizaries had been embodied near a century and a half; and, during that long period, the severity of their military discipline had in no degree relaxed. The other soldiers, drawn from the provinces of the empire, had been kept almost continually under arms, in the various wars which the sultans had carried on with hardly any interval of peace. Against troops thus trained and accustomed to service, the forces of the Christian powers took the field with great disadvantage. The most intelligent as well as impartial authors of the sixteenth century acknowledge and lament the superior attainments of the Turks in the military art. The success which almost uniformly attended their arms, in all their wars, demonstrates the justness of this observation. The Christian armies did not acquire that superiority over the Turks, which they now possess, until the long establishment of standing forces had improved military discipline among the former; and until various causes and events, which it is not my province to explain, had corrupted or abolished their ancient warlike institutions among the latter.

Book 1

1.

The Fight of King Ferdinand for his Kingdom. Regency of Cardinal Ximenes