ALEANDER’S ACTIVITY AND ACCUSATIONS

BUT ALL THIS was of little consequence to politicians. However noble might have been the idea Charles had formed of the imperial dignity, Germany was not the center of his interests and of his policy. He understood neither the spirit nor the language of Germany. He was always a Duke of Burgundy who to many other scepters had united the first crown of Christendom. It was a remarkable circumstance that, at the moment of its most intimate transformation, Germany should elect a foreign prince, to whom the necessities and tendencies of the nation were but of secondary importance. Undoubtedly the emperor was not indifferent to the religious movement, but it had no meaning in his eyes, except so far as it threatened the pope.

War between Charles and Francis I was inevitable; the principal scene of that war would be Italy. The alliance of the pope became therefore daily more necessary to Charles’s projects. He would have preferred detaching Frederick from Luther, or satisfying the pope without offending Frederick. Many of his courtiers manifested in the affair of the Augustine monk that disdainful coldness which politicians generally affect when there is any question of religion. "Let us avoid all extreme measures," said they. "Let us entangle Luther by negotiations, and reduce him to silence by some trifling concessions. The proper course is to stifle and not to fan the flame. If the monk falls into the net, we are victorious! By accepting a compromise, he will silence himself and ruin his cause. For form’s sake we will decree certain exterior reforms; the elector will be satisfied: the pope will be gained; and matters will resume their ordinary course."

Such was the project formed by the emperor’s confidants. The Wittenberg doctors seem to have divined this new policy. "They are trying to win men over secretly," said Melancthon, "and are working in the dark." Charles’s confessor, John Glapio, a man of great weight, a skillful courtier, and a wily monk, took upon himself the execution of the scheme. Glapio possessed the full confidence of Charles; and this prince, imitating the Spanish customs in this particular, intrusted him almost entirely with the care of matters pertaining to religion. As soon as Charles had been named emperor, Leo hastened to win over Glapio by favors which the confessor very gratefully acknowledged. He could make no better return to the pontiff’s generosity than by crushing this heresy, and he applied himself to the task.

Among the elector’s councilors was Gregory Bruck, or Pontanus, the chancellor, a man of intelligence, decision, and courage, who was a better theological scholar than many doctors, and whose wisdom was capable of resisting the wiles of the monks in Charles’s court. Glapio, knowing the chancellor’s influence, requested an interview with him, and introducing himself as if he had been a friend of the reformer, said with an air of kindness: "I was filled with joy, in reading Luther’s first writings; I thought him a vigorous tree, which had put forth goodly branches, and gave promise to the Church of the most precious fruit. Many people, it is true, have entertained the same views before his time; yet no one but himself has had the noble courage to publish the truth without fear. But when I read his book on the Captivity of Babylon, I felt like one overwhelmed with blows from head to foot. I do not think," added the monk, "that brother Martin will acknowledge himself to be the author of it; I do not find in it either his usual style or leaming." After some discussion, the confessor continued: "Introduce me to the elector, and in your presence I will show him Luther’s errors."

The chancellor replied that the business of the diet left his highness no leisure, and besides he did not mix himself up with this matter. The monk was vexed at seeing his demand rejected. "Nevertheless," continued the chancellor, "since you say there is no evil without a remedy, explain yourself."

Assuming a confidential air, the confessor replied: "The emperor earnestly desires to see a man like Luther reconciled with the Church; for his books (previous to the publication of the treatise on the Captivity of Babylon) were rather agreeable to his majesty. . . . The irritation caused by the bull no doubt excited Luther to write the latter work. Let him then declare that he had no intention of troubling the repose of the Church, and the learned of every nation will side with him. Procure me an audience with his highness."

The chancellor went to Frederick. The elector well knew that any retractation whatsoever was impossible: "Tell the confessor," answered he, "that I cannot comply with his request; but continue your conference."

Glapio received this message with every demonstration of respect; and changing his line of attack, he said: "Let the elector name some confidential persons to deliberate on this affair."

The Chancellor – "The elector does not profess to defend Luther’s cause."

The Confessor – "Let Luther deny that he wrote the Captivity of Babylon."

The Chancellor – "But the pope’s bull condemns all his other writings."

The Confessor – "That is because of his obstinacy. If he disclaims this book, the pope in his omnipotence can easily pardon him. What hopes may we not entertain now that we have so excellent an emperor!"

Perceiving that these words had produced some effect on the chancellor, the monk hastily added: "Luther always desires to argue from the Bible. The Bible . . . it is like wax, you may stretch it and bend it as you please. I would undertake to find in the Bible opinions more extravagant even than Luther’s. He is mistaken when he changes every word of Christ into a commandment." And then, wishing to act upon the fears of his hearer, he added: "What would be the result if today or tomorrow the emperor should have recourse to arms? Reflect upon this." He then permitted Pontanus to retire.

The confessor laid fresh snares. "A man might live ten years with him, and not know him at last," said Erasmus.

"What an excellent book is that of Luther’s on Christian Liberty," said he to the chancellor, whom he saw again a few days after; "what wisdom! what talent! what wit! It is thus that a real scholar ought to write. . . . Let both sides choose men of irreproachable character, and let the pope and Luther refer the whole matter to their decision. There is no doubt that Luther would come off victorious on many points. I will speak about it to the emperor. Believe me, I do not mention these things solely on my own authority. I have told the emperor that God would chastise him and all the princes if the Church, which is the Spouse of Christ, be not cleansed from all the stains that defile her. I added, that God Himself had sent Luther, and commissioned him to reprove men for their offenses, employing him as a scourge to punish the sins of the world."

The chancellor, on hearing these words (which reflected the feelings of the age, and showed the opinion entertained of Luther even by his adversaries), could not forbear expressing his astonishment that his master was not treated with more respect. "There are daily consultations with the emperor on this affair," said he, "and yet the elector is not invited to them. He thinks it strange that the emperor, who is not a little indebted to him, should exclude him from his councils."

The Confessor – "I have been present only once at these deliberations, and then heard the emperor resist the solicitations of the nuncios. Five years hence it will be seen what Charles has done for the reformation of the Church."

"The elector," answered Pontanus, "is unacquainted with Luther’s intentions. Let him be summoned and have a hearing."

The confessor replied with a deep sigh: "I call God to witness how ardently I desire to see the reformation of Christendom accomplished."

To protract the affair and to keep the reformer silent was all that Glapio proposed. In any case, Luther must not come to Worms. A dead man returning from the other world and appearing in the midst of the diet would have been less alarming to the nuncios, the monks, and all the papal host, than the presence of the Wittenberg doctor.

"How many days does it take to travel from Wittenberg to Worms?" asked the confessor with an assumed air of indifference; and then, begging Pontanus to present his most humble salutations to the elector, he retired.

Such were the maneuvers resorted to by the courtiers. They were disconcerted by the firmness of Pontanus. That just man was immovable as a rock during all these negotiations. The Roman monks themselves fell into the snares they had laid for their enemies. "The Christian," said Luther in his figurative language, "is like a bird tied near a trap. The wolves and foxes prowl round it, and spring on it to devour it; but they fall into the pit and perish, while the timid bird remains unhurt. It is thus the holy angels keep watch around us, and those devouring wolves, the hypocrites and persecutors, cannot harm us." Not only were the artifices of the confessor ineffectual, but his admissions still more confirmed Frederick in his opinion that Luther was right, and that it was his duty to protect him.

Men’s hearts daily inclined more and more towards the gospel. A Dominican prior suggested that the emperor, the kings of France, Spain, England, Portugal, Hungary, and Poland, with the pope and the electors, should name representatives to whom the arrangement of this affair should be confided. "Never," said he, "has implicit reliance been placed on the pope alone." The public feeling became such that it seemed impossible to condemn Luther without having heard and confuted him.

Aleander grew uneasy, and displayed unusual energy. It was no longer against the elector and Luther alone that he had to contend. He beheld with horror the secret negotiations of the confessor, the proposition of the prior, the consent of Charles’s ministers, the extreme coldness of Roman piety, even among the most devoted friends of the pontiff, "so that one might have thought," says Pallavicini, "that a torrent of iced water had gushed over them." He had at length received from Rome the money he had demanded; he held in his hand the energetic briefs addressed to the most powerful men in the empire. Fearing to see his prey escape, he felt that now was the time to strike a decisive blow. He forwarded the briefs, scattered the money profusely, and made the most alluring promises; "and, armed with this threefold weapon," says the historian, Cardinal Pallavicini, "he made a fresh attempt to bias the wavering assembly of electors in the pope’s favor." But around the emperor in particular he laid his snares. He took advantage of the dissensions existing between the Belgian and Spanish ministers. He besieged the monarch unceasingly. All the partisans of Rome, awakened by his voice, solicited Charles. "Daily deliberations," wrote the elector to his brother John, "are held against Luther; they demand that he shall be placed under the ban of the pope and of the emperor; they endeavor to injure him in every way. Those who parade in their red hats, the Romans, with all their followers, display indefatigable zeal in this task."

Aleander did in reality urge the condemnation of the reformer with a violence that Luther characterizes as marvelous fury. The apostate nuncio, as Luther styles him, transported by anger beyond the bounds of prudence, one day exclaimed: "lf you Germans pretend to shake off the yoke of obedience to Rome, we will act in such a manner that, exterminated by mutual slaughter, you shall perish in your own blood."

But such was not Luther’s language. He asked nothing for himself. "Luther is ready," said Melancthon, "to purchase at the cost of his own life the glory and advancement of the gospel." But he trembled when he thought of the calamities that might be the consequence of his death. He pictured to himself a misled people revenging perhaps his martyrdom in the blood of his adversaries, and especially of the priests. He shrank from so dreadful a responsibility. "God," said he, "checks the fury of His enemies; but if it breaks forth . . . then shall we see a storm burst upon the priests like that which has devastated Bohemia. . . . My hands are clear of this, for I have earnestly entreated the German nobility to oppose the Romans by wisdom, and not by the sword. To make war upon the priests, – a class without courage or strength, – would be to fight against women and children."

Charles V could not resist the solicitations of the nuncio. His Belgian and Spanish devotion had been developed by his preceptor Adrian, who afterwards occupied the pontifical throne. The pope had addressed him in a brief, entreating him to give the power of law to the bull by an imperial edict. "To no purpose will God have invested you with the sword of the supreme power," said he, "if you do not employ it, not only against the infidels, but against the heretics also, who are far worse than they." Accordingly, one day in the beginning of February, at the moment when every one in Worms was making preparations for a splendid tournament, and when the emperor’s tent was already erected, the princes who were arming themselves to take part in the brilliant show were summoned to the imperial palace. After listening to the reading of the papal bull, a stringent edict was laid before them, enjoining its immediate execution. "If you can recommend any better course," added the emperor, following the usual custom, "I am ready to hear you."

An animated debate immediately took place in the assembly. "This monk," wrote a deputy from one of the free cities of Germany, "gives us plenty of occupation. Some would like to crucify him, and I think that he will not escape; only it is to be feared that he will rise again the third day." The emperor had imagined that he would be able to publish his edict without opposition from the states; but such was not the case. Their minds were not prepared. It was necessary to gain over the diet. "Convince this assembly," said the youthful monarch to the nuncio. This was all that Aleander desired; and he was promised a hearing before the diet on the thirteenth of February.

The nuncio prepared for this solemn audience. This was an important duty, but Aleander was not unworthy of it. He was not only ambassador from the sovereign pontiff, and surrounded with all the splendor of his high office, but also one of the most eloquent men of his age. The friends of the Reformation looked forward to this sitting with apprehension. The elector, pretending indisposition, was not present; but he gave some of his councilors orders to attend, and take notes of the nuncio’s speech.

When the day arrived, Aleander proceeded toward the assembly of the princes. The feelings of all were excited; many were reminded of Annas and Caiaphas going to Pilate’s judgment-seat and calling for the death of this Fellow who perverted the nation. "Just as the nuncio was about to cross the threshold, the usher of the diet," says Pallavicini, "approaching him rudely, thrust him back by a blow on the breast." "He was a Lutheran at heart," adds the Romanist historian. If this story be true, it shows no doubt an excess of passion; but at the same time it furnishes us with a standard by which to measure the influence that Luther’s words had excited even in those who guarded the doors of the imperial council. The proud Aleander, recovering himself with dignity, walked forward and entered the hall. Never had Rome been called to make its defense before so august an assembly. The nuncio placed before him the documents that he had judged necessary, namely, Luther’s works and the papal bulls; and, as soon as the diet was silent, be began:

"Most august emperor, most mighty princes, most excellent deputies! I appear before you in defense of a cause for which my heart glows with the most ardent affection. It is to retain on my master’s head that triple crown which you all adore: to maintain that papal throne for which I should be willing to deliver my body to the flames, if the monster that has engendered this growing heresy that I am now to combat, could be consumed at the same stake and mingle his ashes with mine.

"No! the whole difference between Luther and the pope does not turn on the papal interests. I have Luther’s books before me, and a man only needs have eyes in his head to see that he attacks the holy doctrines of the Church. He teaches that those alone communicate worthily whose consciences are overwhelmed with sorrow and confusion because of their sins, and that no one is justified by baptism if he has not faith in the promise of which baptism is the pledge. He denies the necessity of works to obtain heavenly glory. He denies that we have the liberty and power of obeying the natural and divine law. He asserts that we sin of necessity in every one of our actions. Has the arsenal of hell ever sent forth weapons better calculated to break the bonds of decency? . . . He preaches in favor of the abolition of monastic vows. Can we imagine any greater sacrilegious impiety? . . . What desolation should we not witness in the world, were those who are the salt of the earth to throw aside their sacred garments, desert the temples that re-echo with their holy songs, and plunge into adultery, incest, and every vice! . . .

"Shall I enumerate all the crimes of this Augustine monk? He sins against the dead, for he denies purgatory; he sins against heaven, for he says that he would not believe even an angel from heaven; he sins against the Church, for he maintains that all Christians are priests; he sins against the saints, for he despises their venerable writings; he sins against councils, for he designates that of Constance an assembly of devils; he sins against the world, for he forbids the punishment of death to be inflicted on any who have not committed a deadly sin. Some of you may say that he is a pious man. . . . I have no desire to attack his private life, but only to remind this assembly that the devil often deceives people in the garb of truth."

Aleander, having spoken of the doctrine of purgatory condemned by the Council of Florence, laid at the emperor’s feet the papal bull on this council. The Archbishop of Mentz took it up, and gave it to the Archbishops of Treves and Cologne, who received it reverently, and passed it to the other princes. The nuncio, after having thus accused Luther, proceeded to the second point, which was to justify Rome:

"At Rome, says Luther, the mouth promises one thing, the hand does another. If this were true, must we not come to the very opposite conclusion? If the ministers of a religion live conformably to its precepts, it is a sign that the religion is false. Such was the religion of the ancient Romans. . . . Such is that of Mahomet and of Luther himself; but such is not the religion which the Roman pontiffs teach us. Yes, the doctrine they profess condemns them all, as having committed faults; many, as guilty; and some (I will speak frankly) as criminal. . . . This doctrine exposes their actions to the censure of men during their lives, to the brand of history after their death. Now, I would ask what pleasure or profit could the popes have found in inventing such a religion?

"The Church, it may be said, was not governed by the Roman pontiffs in the primitive ages. What conclusion shall we draw from this? With such arguments we might persuade men to feed on acorns, and princesses to wash their own linen."

But his adversary – the reformer – was the special object of the nuncio’s hatred. Boiling with indignation against those who said that he ought to be heard, he exclaimed: "Luther will not allow himself to be instructed by anyone. The pope had already summoned him to Rome, and he did not comply. Next, the pope cited him before the legate at Augsburg, and he did not appear until he had procured a safe-conduct, that is to say, after the legate’s hands were tied, and his tongue alone was left unfettered. . . . Ah!" said Aleander, turning towards Charles V, "I entreat your imperial Majesty to do nothing that may lead to your reproach. Do not interfere in a matter which does not concern the laity. Perform your own duties! Let Luther’s doctrines be interdicted by you throughout the length and breadth of the empire: let his writings be burned everywhere. Fear not! In Luther’s errors there is enough to burn a hundred thousand heretics. . . . And what have we to fear? The multitude? . . . Its insolence makes it appear terrible before the conflict, but in the battle its cowardice renders it contemptible. Foreign princes? . . . But the King of France has forbidden the introduction of Luther’s doctrines into his kingdom; and the King of England is preparing an assault with his own royal hand. You know what are the sentiments of Hungary, Italy, and Spain, and there is not one of your neighbors, however much he may hate you, who wishes you so much evil as this heresy would cause you. For if our adversary’s house adjoins our own, we may desire it to be visited with fever, but not with the plague. . . .

"What are all these Lutherans? A crew of insolent pedagogues, corrupt priests, dissolute monks, ignorant lawyers, and degraded nobles, with the common people, whom they have misled and perverted. How far superior to them is the Catholic party in number, ability, and power! A unanimous decree from this illustrious assembly will enlighten the simple, warn the imprudent, decide the wavering, and give strength to the weak. . . . But if the axe is not laid to the roots of this poisonous tree, if the death-blow is not struck, then . . . I see it overshadowing the heritage of Jesus Christ with its branches, changing our Lord’s vineyard into a gloomy forest, transforming the kingdom of God into a den of wild beasts, and reducing Germany to that frightful state of barbarism and desolation which has been brought upon Asia by the superstition of Mahomet."

The nuncio was silent. He had spoken for three hours. The enthusiasm of his language had produced a deep impression on the assembly. The princes looked at each other, excited and alarmed, says Cochloeus, and murmurs soon arose from every side against Luther and his partisans. If the eloquent Luther had been present; if he had been able to reply to this speech; if, profiting by the avowals extorted from the Roman nuncio by the recollection of his former master, the infamous Borgia, he had shown that these very arguments, intended to defend Rome, were of themselves its condemnation; if he had shown that the doctrine which proved its iniquity was not invented by him, as the orator said, but was that religion which Christ had given to the world, and which the Reformation was re-establishing in its primitive splendor; if be had presented a faithful and animated picture of the errors and abuses of the papacy, and had shown how the religion of Christ had been made an instrument of self-interest and rapacity; the effect of the nuncio’s harangue would have been instantly nullified. But no one rose to speak. The assembly remained under the impression produced by this speech; and, agitated and transported, showed itself ready to extirpate Luther’s heresy by force from the soil of the empire.

Nevertheless, it was a victory only in appearance. It was among the purposes of God that Rome should have an opportunity of displaying her reasons and her power. The greatest of her orators had spoken in the assembly of the princes; he had given utterance to all that Rome had to say. But it was precisely this last effort of the papacy that became a signal of defeat in the eyes of many who had listened to it. If a bold confession is necessary for the triumph of truth, the surest means of destroying error is to make it known without reserve. Neither the one nor the other, to run its course, should be concealed. The light tests all things.

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