After the Diet of Worms, Charles had returned to Spain. To conduct the affairs of state during his absence, had had appointed a Diet of Regency to administer from Nuremberg. The main business which brought the diet together was the inroads of the Turks. Soliman’s armies had made progress to a degree that it struck terror to the nations of Europe. At the diet, Chieregato, the papal nuncio, presented himself. Through Adrian VI, in common with the rest of Europe, was concerned about the Turks, his greater concern, and the one he sought to share with the diet, was for the rapid spread of Luther ‘s ideas in Germany. He longed to see them deal with Luther as Peter had struck Ananias and Sapphira with sudden death for lying against God.
On entering Germany, the nuncio found himself met with less than overwhelming enthusiasm. As Chieregato passed along, he raised his two fingers, after the usual manner, to bless the people, only to have them respond by raising theirs, to show how little they cared for either himself or his benediction. Though this was mortifying, greater mortifications awaited him.
Arriving in Nuremberg, he found, to his great dismay, that the pulpits were occupied by Protestant preachers and the churches were filled with attentive listeners. Upon presenting the diet with his concerns, they informed him that Nuremberg was a free city and that the magistrates were largely Lutheran. Frustrated, he next intimated that he might take matters into his own hands and, on his own authority, apprehended the ministers himself, in the pontiff’s name. The Archbishop of Mainz, and others, informed him that if he embarked on such a risky course, they would immediately quit the city and leave him to deal with the indignant burghers as best he could.
Greatly baffled and humiliated by the little reverence that he had received, the nuncio approached the diet. He admitted to past abuses by the Church but pointed out that Adrian was sincere in his desire to work reform. He was even ready to admit that corruption extended throughout the whole church; but he went to great lengths to urge that those who would push for reforms with too great haste should have nothing but the stake. He therefore urged the diet to execute the imperial edict of death for heresy upon Luther . As regarding the reforms that Adrian proposed to work out, he would neither move too precipitously nor too extremely; it must be done gently, and by degrees. Luther , in translating the papal brief into German, with marginal notes, interpreted this to mean a few centuries between each step.
The Diet Favors Reform
The diet responded by telling Adrian that the idea of executing the Edict of Worms against Luther would be madness. To put to death the Reformer for advocating the very changes that Adrian admitted of being necessary would be no less unjust than dangerous, as it would certainly deluge Germany in blood. Luther must be refuted from the Scriptures, since Luther ‘s writings were in the hands of the people. They knew of only one way that his controversy could be settled, and that was by a General Council. They therefore called for such a council to be held in a neutral town in Germany within the year and included a demand that both laity, as well as clergy, would have a seat and voice in it. Such an unpalatable request was made even more odious by the addition of “Hundred Grievances,” a terrible catalogue of the exactions, frauds, oppressions, and wrongs that Germany had suffered at the hands of the popes.
Chieregato, sensing that he had overstayed his welcome, promptly left Nuremberg, leaving it with someone else to be the bearer of the unwelcome tidings to the pontiff.
In due time, the decree of the diet reached Rome. The otherwise meek Adrian was beside himself with rage. Not only had the diet refused to execute the Edict of Worms and burn Luther and called for a General Council, but they had enumerated a hundred grievances that needed to be addressed. Only thinly veiled was the threat that if the pope failed to act, there were others who would. Seating himself, Adrian poured forth a torrent of threatenings that was more bitter than anything yet to have emanated from the Vatican. Frederick of Saxony, against whom the denunciation was aimed, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword when he read it. Luther, however, who was the only one of the three who was fully in control of his temper, quietly but firmly insisted that no one was to fight for the gospel. The peace was preserved.
Charles V would gladly have brought luther to the stake, had he the power to do so; but in Germany, he could act only so far as the princes would go with him. Consequently, it was the low countries to which he directed his displeasure. In Brussels, on July 1, 1523, three stakes were erected and the first of many martyrs were burned for their faith. This apparent victory for the powers of darkness was but the signal for its defeat. Luther received the news of their death with thanksgiving, knowing that a cause which had produced martyrs bore the seal of Divine authentication and was sure of victory. In the words of Erasmus, “Wherever the smoke of their burning blew, it bore with it the seeds of heretics.” Wylie, History of Protestantism, book 1, 490
Adrian’s Policies Reversed
Adrian lived to hear of the death of these youths, but in September of the same year, he died; and with him passed all interest in reforming the Church. Cardinal Guilio de Medici, an unsuccessful contender for the papal crown in the previous election, was more successful this time. Ascending to the pontifical throne under the name of Clement VII, he hastily reversed the policy of his predecessor.
As Clement assumed his duties, wherever the eye might turn, there was trouble. Two powerful kings were fighting in Italy; the Turks were threatening the Austrian frontier; but the most troublesome, and that which caused the greatest concern, was the situation in Wittenberg. Leo X had underestimated the threat. Adrian had thought to blunt it by working reforms in the church, but both had met with signal failure. Clement determined that for his part, he would prove himself an abler pilot; he would act as a statesman and a pope.
In the spring of 1524, Nuremberg was the scene of the second Imperial Diet. The pope’s first concern was to choose the right man to represent the interests of the Church. The man of his choosing was Cardinal Campeggio. An astute envoy, his great ability and experience seemed to qualify him as best. His journey to the northern Italian border was like a triumphal march; but upon crossing the German border, all tokens of public enthusiasm forsook him. Upon his arrival at Nuremberg, he looked in vain for the usual procession of magistrates and clergy to bid him welcome. As an ordinary traveler, the proud representative of Clement made his way, unescorted, through the streets and entered his hotel.
Campeggio’s instructions were to first of all soothe the Elector of Saxony, who was still smarting from Adrian’s furious letter. Second, he was to make any promise necessary and use whatever diplomacy that was required to bring the diet into submission. Having accomplished these preliminary tasks, he was to attend to Luther. If only the monk could be brought to the stake, all would be well.
A Plea for Loyalty to Rome
The papal nuncio presented himself to the diet. In addressing the princes, he alluded to his devotion to Germany, which had led him to accept this difficult mission when all others had declined. He described the tender solicitude of the pope for his flock. He could not, however, refrain from expressing wonderment that so many great and honorable princes should suffer the religion wherein they were born and in which their father’s had died, to be ill-treated and trampled upon. He begged them to consider what the end of such a course must be, namely, a universal uprising by the people against their rulers and the destruction of Germany. As for the Turks, it did not seem necessary that he should say much, as all knew of the threat that they posed to Christianity.
The princes listened with respect and thanked him for his goodwill and kindly counsel. The matter most pressing, however, and that for which they desired an answer, was the matter of the list of grievances which they had submitted to Rome; they would like to know if the pope had returned an answer and what that answer might be.
Feigning surprise, Campeggio replied that, “As to their demands, there had been only three copies of them brought privately to Rome, whereof one had fallen into his hands; but the pope and college of cardinals could not believe that they had been framed by the princes; they thought that some private persons had published them in hatred of the court of Rome; and thus he had no instructions in that particular.” Ibid., 491. Campeggio’s answer was met with mixed indignation and anger.
Charles had been prevented from attending because of his war with France, but he sent his ambassador, John Hunnaart, to complain that the diet had not enforced the Edict of Worms and to demand that it be put to execution—in other words, that Luther be put to death and the gospel proscribed in Germany.
The deputies, realizing the impossibility of such a thing, dissented; but Campeggio and Hunnaart insisted that they should put into effect the edict to which they had been consenting parties. The diet was in a quandary as to what course to pursue.
The Edict of Worms Nullified
Though they did not dare to repeal the edict, they finally hit upon a clever device for appeasing the pope without arousing the wrath of the people. They passed a decree saying that the Edict of Worms should be rigorously enforced as far as possible. For all practical purposes, it was a repeal of the edict, for the majority of the German states had already declared that it was not possible to enforce. While seeming to have gained a victory, Campeggio and Hunnaart had in reality met defeat, the first of more to come.
Undaunted by the signal failure of past councils to be an end in settling abuses and ending all controversies, the princes, haaving successfully nullified the emperor’s ban, next moved to demand a General Council. The papal legate and the envoy of Charles V both offered stout resistance, but to no avail. They presented to the princes what an affront such a resolve would be to papal authority, what an attack on the prerogatives of the pontiff. The princes, however, remained unchanged in their determination to call for a council and decreed that a diet should assemble at Spires in November. In the mean time, the free towns of Germany were encouraged to express their minds relative to the abuses to be corrected and the reforms to be instituted so that when the council met, the diet might be able to speak in the name of the Fatherland, demanding the reforms that the nation wished.
Sensing a political climate that favored the spread of the gospel, the Protestant preachers continued to preach the gospel with increased zeal. There were two cathedrals in Nuremberg and both were filled to overflowing with attentive audiences. The mass was forsaken, as were images, and the Scriptures were explained according to the early church fathers. The papal legate had the humiliating experience of being jostled in the streets by the throngs hurrying to the Protestant meetings, but there was nothing he could do about it. Germany seemed closer than at any previous time to a national reformation.
It was not only Clement’s authority that was tottering in Germany for if the German states should break away from the Roman faith, the emperor’s influence would be so greatly weakened as to be irreparable damaged. The imperial dignity would be so shorn of its splendor as to threaten the emperor’s schemes, leaving their implementation impracticable.
As alarmed as were the papal nuncio and Charles’s representative, it paled relative to the concern in the Vatican. Clement comprehended at a glance the full extent of the disaster that was threatening the full extent of the disaster that was threatening the papal throne; the half of his kingdom was about to be torn from him. He determined to leave no stone unturned to prevent at all costs the meeting scheduled to take place at Spires. Meanwhile, all eyes now turned to Spires where the fate of popedom was to be decided.
As preparations for the fateful meeting were in progress, the consternation of the Romish party was in proportion to the success of the princes friendly to the Reformed faith. To meet the challenge, Campeggio adopted the old policy of “divide and conquer.”
The Ratisbon Reformation
Withdrawing from the diet, Campeggio retired to Ratisbon where he set to work to form a party among the princes of Germany. Drawing around him Ferdinand, Archduke of Austria; the Dukes of Bavaria; the Archbishop of Salzburg; the Bishops of Trent and Ratisbon; and later the princes of southern Germany; he represented to them that should Wittenberg triumph, it would spell the end of their power as well as the dissolution of the existing order of things. He assured them that the prosperity of the papacy was closely linked with their own welfare. To avert these terrible evils, the princes passed a resolution that called for a ban on the printing of all of Luther’s books, the recall of all youth from their dominions, and no toleration for changes in the mass or public worship. In short, they determined to wage a war of extermination against the new faith. Offsetting these stern measures, they promised a few mind reforms.
The legate had done his work well, and now the pope urged Charles to act against a threat that was a greater detriment to the throne than was Rome. Charles needed no urging, having been stung to the quick by what he viewed as a usurpation of his authority by the princes in seeking to convene a diet. He informed them in sharp terms that it belonged to him as emperor to demand of the pope that a council be convoked and that he and the pope alone were the judge as to a fitting time to convoke such an assembly. Furthermore, he informed them that until such a council should be summoned, it was their responsibility to confine themselves to enforcing the previous Edict of Worms. He further forbade the meeting of the diet at Spires under penalty of high treason and the ban of the empire. The princes eventually submitted, and the proposed diet never met.
Persecution Renewed
Archduke Ferdinand and the papal legate, journeying together to Vienna, determined that to successfully carry out the league, the sword must be unsheathed. Gaspard Tauber of Vienna was charged with the crime of circulating Luther’s books. The idea was circulated that he was disposed to recant. Two pulpits were erected in the churchyard of St. Stephen’s. From the one Tauber was to read his recantation, while from the other a priest was to magnify the act as a new triumph for the Roman Church. Tauber arose and to the amazement of the waiting crowd, made a bolder confession of his faith than ever before. He was immediately dragged to execution, decapitated, and his body thrown to the flames.
This fanatical rage continued for some time and extended even to some parts of northern Germany. From the humble peasant to magistrate on his bench, there was no safety to be found. The countryside swarmed with spies.
While its enemies were forming leagues against the Reformation, new friends were stepping out of the ranks of the Romanists to place themselves on its side. No sooner had the members of the league left Ratisbon, than the deputies of the towns, whose bishops had taken part in the alliance, in surprise and indignation, met at Spires, declaring that their ministers, in spite of the prohibition of the bishops, should preach the gospel. Before the end of the year, the deputies of these cities, with many nobles, met and swore a mutual defense pact.
While the cities were aligning themselves with the Reformation, many princes were also joining the cause.
In early June of 1924, as Melancthon was returning from a visit to his mother, he met a brilliant train near Frankfort. It was Philip, the landgrave of Hesse, who three years earlier had met Luther at Worms. Philip was on his way to Heidelberg, where all the princes of Gemany were to be present at a tournament. Being informed by one of his attendants that it was Melancthon approaching, the young prince quickly rode up to the doctor and asked, “Is your name Philip?” “It is,” replied the surprised scholar. Somewhat intimidated, Melancthon prepared to dismount. “Keep your seat,” said the prince; “turn around, and come and pass the night with me; there are some matters on which I desire to have a little talk with you.” D’Aubigne’s History of the Reformation, book 10, chap. 8
The two Philips rode side by side, the prince asking questions, and the doctor answering them. The landgrave was impressed by the clear answers he received. Upon parting, the landgrave asked that Melancthon, upon further study, send him a replay to his questions in writing.
Shortly after returning from the tournament at Heidelberg, the prince published an edict, in opposition to the league of Ratisbon, allowing the free preaching of the gospel in his territory.
Other princes, including the King of Denmark soon followed in the same direction, lending their influence to the Reformation.
Charles V and the pope had opposed a national assembly at Spires for fear that it would release the Word of God, but, like the dawn spreading across the land, it made itself manifested in every part of the empire, attesting to the truth that the Word of God cannot be bound.