CHAPTER XI

Coronation of Charles V.—The Nuncio Aleander—Will Luther’s Books be burnt?—Aleander and the Emperor—The Nuncios and the Elector—The Son of Duke John pleads for Luther—Luther’s calmness—The Elector protects Luther—Reply of the Nuncios—Erasmus at Cologne—Erasmus with the Elector—Declaration of Erasmus—Advice of Erasmus—System of Charles V. The powerful words of the Reformer penetrated all minds, and contributed to their emancipation. The sparks of light which each word threw out were communicated to the whole nation. But a great question remained to be solved. Would the prince, in whose states Luther dwelt, favour the execution of the bull, or would he oppose it? The reply seemed doubtful. At that time the Elector and all the princes of the empire were at Aix-la-Chapelle where the crown of Charlemagne was placed upon the head of the youngest but most powerful monarch of Christendom. Unprecedented pomp and magnificence were displayed in the ceremony. Charles V, Frederick, the princes, ministers, and ambassadors, immediately after repaired to Cologne. Aix-la-Chapelle, where the plague was raging, seemed to empty itself into this ancient town on the banks of the Rhine.

Among the crowd of strangers who pressed into the city were the two papal nuncios, Marino Carracioli and Jerome Aleander. Carracioli, who had previously executed a mission to Maximilian, was appointed to congratulate the new emperor, and confer with him on matters of state. But Rome had become aware that, in order to succeed in extinguishing the Reformation, it was necessary to send into Germany a nuncio specially entrusted with the task, and with a character, address, and activity fitted to accomplish it. Aleander had been selected. This man, who was afterwards decorated with the cardinals’ purple, seems to have been of rather an ancient family, and not of Jewish parentage as has been said. The guilty Borgia called him to Rome to be secretary to his son, the Cesar, before whose murderous sword all Rome trembled.² “Like master like servant,” says a historian, who thus compares Aleander to Alexander VI. This judgment seems too severe. After the death of Borgia, Aleander devoted himself to study with new ardour. His skill in Greek, Hebrew, Chaldee, and Arabic, gave him the reputation of being the most learned man of his age. He threw his whole soul into whatever he undertook. The zeal with which he studied languages was not a whit stronger than that which he displayed in persecuting the Reformation. Leo X took him into his service. Protestant historians speak of his epicurean habits—Roman historians of the integrity of his life. He seems to have been fond of luxury, show, and amusement. “Aleander,” says his old friend Erasmus, “lived in Venice, in high office, but in low epicureanism.” He is admitted to have been violent in temper, prompt in action, full of ardour, indefatigable, imperious, and devoted to the pope. Eck is the blustering, intrepid champion of the school,—Aleander the proud ambassador of the arrogant court of the pontiffs. He seemed formed to be a nuncio.

Rome had made every preparation to destroy the monk of Wittemberg. The duty of assisting at the coronation of the emperor, as representative of the pope, was to Aleander only a secondary mission, fitted to facilitate his task by the respect which it secured to him. The essential part of his commission was to dispose Charles to crush the growing Reformation. In putting the bull into the hands of the emperor, the nuncio had thus addressed him:—“The pope, who has succeeded with so many great princes, will have little difficulty in bringing three grammarians to order.” By these he meant Luther, Melancthon, and Erasmus. Erasmus was present at this audience. No sooner had Aleander arrived at Cologne, than he proceeded in concert with Carracioli, to put everything in train for burning Luther’s heretical writings throughout the empire, but more especially under the eyes of the princes of Germany who were then assembled. Charles V had already consented to its being done in his hereditary states. The minds of men were greatly agitated. “Such measures,” it was said to the ministers of Charles, and to the nuncios themselves, “far from curing the evil, will only make it worse. Do you imagine that the doctrine of Luther exists only in the books which you throw into the flames? It is written where you cannot reach it—on the hearts of the population. If you will employ force, it must be that of innumerable swords, drawn to massacre an immense multitude.² Some billets of wood, collected for the purpose of consuming some bits of paper, will do nothing; such weapons become not the dignity either of the emperor or the pontiff.” The nuncio defended his faggot piles. “These flames,” said he, “are a sentence of condemnation written in gigantic letters, and understood alike by those who are near, and those who are at a distance, by the learned and the ignorant, by those even who cannot read.”

But, in reality the nuncio’s efforts were directed not against papers and books, but Luther himself. “These flames,” resumed her “are not sufficient to purify the infected air of Germany. If they deter the simple, they do not correct the wicked. The thing wanted is an edict from the emperor against Luther’s head.”⁴ Aleander did not find the emperor so complying on the subject of the Reformer’s person as on that of his books.

“Having just ascended the throne,” said he to Aleander, “I cannot, without the advice of my counsellors, and the consent of the princes, strike such a blow at an immense faction, surrounded by such powerful defenders. Let us first know what our father, the Elector of Saxony, thinks of the affair; after that, we shall see what answer to give to the pope.” On the Elector, therefore, the nuncios proceeded to try their wiles, and the power of their eloquence. On the first Sunday of November, after Frederick had attended mass in the convent of the Cordeliers, Carracioli and Aleander requested an audience. He received them in the presence of the Bishop of Trent, and several of his counsellors. Carracioli first presented the papal brief. Milder than Aleander, he thought it best to gain the Elector by flattery, and began to laud him and his ancestors. “In you,” said he, “we hope for the salvation of the Roman Church and the Roman empire.” But the impetuous Aleander, wishing to come to the point, came briskly forward, and interrupted his colleague, who modestly gave way to him. “It is to me,” said he, “and Eck, that Martin’s affair has been entrusted. See the immense perils to which this man exposes the Christian commonwealth. If a remedy is not speedily applied, the empire is destroyed. What ruined the Greeks if it was not their abandonment of the pope? You cannot remain united to Luther without separating from Jesus Christ.² In the name of his Holiness, I ask of you two things: first, to burn the writings of Luther; secondly, to punish him according to his demerits, or at least to give him up a prisoner to the pope. The emperor, and all the princes of the empire have declared their readiness to accede to our demands; you alone still hesitate …”

Frederick replied, by the intervention of the Bishop of Trent, “This affair is too grave to be decided on the spur of the moment. We will acquaint you with our resolution.”

Frederick’s position was difficult. What course will he adopt? On the one side are the emperor, the princes of the empire, and the chief pontiff of Christendom, from whose authority the Elector has as yet no thought of withdrawing; on the other, a monk, a feeble monk; for his person is all that is asked. The reign of the emperor has just commenced, and will discord be thrown into the empire by Frederick, the oldest and the wisest of all the princes of Germany? Besides, can he renounce that piety which led him as far as the sepulchre of Christ?…

Other voices were then heard. John Frederick, son of Duke John, and nephew of Frederick, the pupil of Spalatin, a young prince, seventeen years of age, who afterwards wore the electoral crown, and whose reign was marked by great misfortunes, had been inspired with a heartfelt love of the truth, and was strongly attached to Luther. When he saw him struck with the anathemas of Rome, he embraced his cause with the warmth of a young Christian and a young prince. He wrote to the doctor, he wrote also to his uncle, soliciting him to protect Luther against his enemies. At the same time, Spalatin, though indeed he was often very desponding, Pontanus, and the other counsellors who were with the Elector at Cologne, represented to him that he could not abandon the Reformer.⁵

Amid the general agitation, only one man remained tranquil—that man was Luther. While others were trying to save him by the influence of the great, the monk, in his cloister at Wittemberg, thought that the great stood more in need of being saved by him. Writing to Spalatin, he says, “If the gospel was of a nature to be propagated or maintained by the power of the world, God would not have entrusted it to fishermen. To defend the gospel appertains not to the princes and pontiffs of this world. They have enough to do to shelter themselves from the judgments of the Lord and his Anointed. If I speak, I do it in order that they may obtain the knowledge of the divine word, and be saved by it.”

Luther’s expectation was not to be deceived. The faith which a convent of Wittemberg contained exercised its influence in the palaces of Cologne. The heart of Frederick, shaken perhaps for an instant, became gradually stronger. He was indignant that the pope, notwithstanding of urgent entreaties to investigate the matter in Germany, had condemned it at Rome, on the demand of the Reformer’s personal enemy; and that in his absence that enemy should have dared to publish in Saxony a bull which threatened the existence of the university and the peace of his people. Besides, the Elector was convinced that Luther had been wronged. He shuddered at the thought of delivering an innocent man in to the cruel hands of his enemies. Justice, rather than the pope, such was the rule he adopted. He resolved not to yield to Rome. On the 4th November, when the Roman nuncios were in his presence with the Bishop of Trent, his counsellors announced to them, on the part of the Elector, that he was much grieved to see how Doctor Eck had taken the opportunity of his absence to involve in condemnation several persons not adverted to in the bull; that it might be that, since his departure, an immense number of the learned and the ignorant, the clergy and the laity, had united in adhering to the cause and the appeal of Luther; that neither his Imperial Majesty, nor any person, had shown him that the writings of Luther had been refuted, and that the only thing now necessary was to throw them into the fire, that he moreover demanded a safe conduct for Doctor Luther, to enable him to appear before learned, pious, and important judges.³

After this declaration, Aleander, Carracioli, and their suite, retired to deliberate. It was the first time the Elector had publicly declared his intentions with regard to the Reformer. The nuncios had anticipated a very different result. “Now,” thought they, “that the Elector, by persisting in playing his part of impartiality, would expose himself to dangers, the full extent of which cannot he foreseen, he will not hesitate to sacrifice the monk.” So Rome had reasoned. But her schemes were destined to fail before a power to which she had not adverted—the love of justice and truth. When again before the Elector’s counsellors, “I would fain know,” said the imperious Aleander, “what the Elector would think were one of his subjects to choose the King of France or some other foreign prince for judge?” Seeing at length that the Saxon counsellors were not to be shaken, he said, “We will execute the bull; we will prosecute and burn the writings of Luther. As to his person,” added he, affecting a disdainful indifference, “the pope has no anxiety to dip his hand in the blood of the wretch.”

News of the reply which the Elector had given to the nuncios having reached Wittemberg, Luther’s friends were overjoyed. Melancthon and Amsdorff, in particular, cherished the most flattering hopes. “The German nobility,” said Melancthon, “will shape their course by the example of a prince whom they follow in every thing as their Nestor. If Homer called his hero ‘the wall of the Greeks,’ why should not Frederick be called ‘the wall of the Germans?’ ”

Erasmus, the oracle of courts, the torch of the schools, the light of the world, was then at Cologne, having been invited thither by several princes who wished to consult him. At the period of the Reformation, Erasmus was at the head of the true middle (juste milieu) party, at least he thought he was, but erroneously; for when truth and error are in presence of each other, the right side is not the middle. He was the chief of that philosophical and university party, which had for ages aspired to correct Rome, without being able to do so; he was the representative of human wisdom; but this wisdom was too weak to repress the arrogance of the papacy. The wisdom of God was necessary—that wisdom which the world often calls folly, but at the bidding of which mountains are crushed. Erasmus was unwilling either to throw himself into the arms of Luther, or to seat himself at the feet of the pope. He hesitated, and often vibrated between these two powers, sometimes attracted towards Luther, and then suddenly repelled towards the pope. He had declared for Luther in a letter to the Archbishop of Mentz, in which he had said. “The last spark of Christian piety seems ready to be extinguished. It is this that has moved Luther’s heart; he cares neither for money nor honour.” The publication of this letter by the imprudent Ulric von Hütten, subjected Erasmus to so much annoyance that he resolved to act with more prudence in future. Besides, he was accused of being in concert with Luther whose unguarded speeches moreover offended him. “Almost all good people,” said he, “are for Luther, but I see that we are on the high way to a revolt. I would not have my name coupled with his. It hurts me and does him no good.”² “Be it so,” replied Luther, “since it pains you, I promise never to mention your name, nor that of any of your friends.” Such was the man to whom both the enemies and the friends of the Reformer applied. The Elector, aware that the opinion of a man so much respected as Erasmus would carry great weight, invited the illustrious Dutchman to come to him. Erasmus complied. This was on the 5th of December. The friends of Luther saw this step not without secret apprehension. The Elector was sitting before the fire, with Spalatin beside him, when Erasmus was introduced. “What think you of Luther?” immediately asked Frederick. The prudent Erasmus, surprised at the direct question, at first tried to evade it. He twisted his mouth, bit his lips, and said nothing. Then the Elector, opening his eyes (says Spalatin,) as he was wont to do when speaking to persons from whom he wished a precise answer, looked piercingly at Erasmus, who, not knowing how to disembarrass himself, at last said, half in jest, “Luther has committed two great faults; he has attacked the pope’s crown and the monks’ belly.” The Elector smiled, but gave Erasmus to understand that he was in earnest. Then Erasmus, laying aside his reserve, said, “The source of all this dispute is the hatred of the monks against letters, and the fear they have of seeing an end put to their tyranny.⁴ What have they put in operation against Luther? Clamour, cabal, hatred, libels. The more virtuous, and the more attached to the doctrines of the gospel a man is, the less is he opposed to Luther. The harshness of the bull has excited the indignation of all good men, and nobody has been able to discover in it the meekness of a vicar of Jesus Christ.⁶ Out of so many universities two only have attacked Luther, and even these have only condemned, not convicted him. Let not people deceive themselves; the danger is greater than some suppose. Things difficult and arduous are at hand. … To begin the reign of Charles with an act so hateful as the imprisonment of Luther would be of sad augury. The world is thirsting for evangelical truth. Let us beware of culpably resisting it. Let the affair be examined by grave men of sound judgment; this would be more accordant with the dignity of the pope himself.”

Thus spoke Erasmus to the Elector. The reader will perhaps be astonished at his frankness; but Erasmus knew to whom he was speaking. Spalatin was delighted, and going out with Erasmus, accompanied him as far as the house of the Count of Nuenar, provost of Cologne, where the illustrious scholar was residing. Erasmus, in a fit of frankness, went into his room, took up the pen and wrote down the substance of what he had said to the Elector, and gave it to Spalatin. But fear of Aleander soon took possession of the timid Erasmus, the courage which he had felt in the presence of the Elector and his chaplain vanished, and he begged Spalatin to send back his too bold writing lest it should fall into the hands of the terrible nuncio. It was too late. The Elector, feeling strong in the opinion of Erasmus, spoke in more decided terms to the emperor. Erasmus himself strove in nocturnal conferences, like Nicodemus of old, to persuade the counsellors of Charles that it was necessary to remit the whole affair to impartial judges. Perhaps he had some hope of being named arbiter in this cause which threatened to divide the Christian world. His vanity would have been flattered by the office. But, at the same time, not to lose himself at Rome, he wrote the most submissive letters to Leo, who replied in kind terms, and thereby put poor Aleander to the torture.³ From love to the pope, he could have sharply rebuked the pope. Erasmus communicated the pontiff’s letters because they added to his credit. The nuncio made a complaint at Rome: “Pretend,” was the answer, “that you do not observe the naughtiness of that man. Prudence requires it: it is necessary to leave the door open for repentance.”

Charles V himself embraced a vacillating system, which consisted in flattering both the pope and the Elector, and in seeming to incline alternately towards the one or the other according to the wants of the moment. One of his ministers, whom he had sent to Rome on certain Spanish matters, had arrived at the very time when Eck was loudly prosecuting Luther’s condemnation. The wily ambassador instantly saw the advantages which his master might derive from the Saxon monk, and on the 12th May, 1520, wrote the emperor, who was still in Spain: “Your Majesty should go into Germany, and there show some favour to one Martin Luther, who is at the Court of Saxony, and, by his discourses, is giving much uneasiness to the Court of Rome.” Such, at the outset, was the light in which Charles viewed the matter. His object was not to know on which side truth or error lay, or to ascertain what the great interest of Germany demanded. What does policy require, and by what means can the pope be induced to support the emperor? This was the whole question, and at Rome was well known to be so. The ministers of Charles gave Aleander a hint of the plan which their master meant to follow. “The emperor,” said they, “will act towards the pope as the pope acts towards the emperor: for he cares not to increase the power of his rivals, and in particular of the king of France.”

² At these words the imperious nuncio gave vent to his indignation: “What!” replied he, “even should the pope abandon the emperor must the emperor abandon religion? If Charles means thus to take his revenge … let him tremble! This unprincipled course will turn against himself.” The imperial diplomatists were not moved by the menaces of the nuncio.