CHAPTER X.
It was the invincible march of Protestantism in the land of its birth which brought about this buttressing of the old belief and this adopting of fresh methods for its efficiency.
When Ferdinand died in 1564 the great majority of the German people had become Protestants. The Empire was honeycombed with the new faith. Even in Austria, that everlasting stronghold of Papacy, the Catholics were in a minority. True to the traditions of the past, Bavaria, the home of the ancient Welfs, was the one thoroughly zealous and obedient champion of the Pope in all Germany.
It seemed as if the great conflict was almost over. But it had not even commenced!
The history of this great movement would have been very different, had it been carried on steadily under one leader. But it had four! Those devout souls who believed they had found in the simple gospel truths of Protestantism a religion in which all might unite were soon convinced of their mistake.
Lulled by the apparent triumph of the new faith, reformers set about the task of defining the belief and correcting the errors of Protestant doctrine. To the followers of Calvin the belief of the Lutherans became almost as abhorrent as Papacy itself, while the Lutherans were again subdivided into an extreme and a moderate party; the one following to the letter the doctrines of Luther, and the other the more modified views of Melancthon. Not only men but states were divided and in bitter strife over these differences, so that the Emperor Ferdinand had said, "Instead of being of one mind they are so disunited, have so many different beliefs, the God of truth surely cannot be with them!"
It is apparent now that the issue underlying all this upheaval was deeper than anyone then knew. The real struggle was not for the supremacy of Romanist or Protestant; not to determine whether this dogma or that was true and should prevail, but to establish the right of every human soul to choose its own faith and form of worship. The great battle for human liberty had commenced, and the Romish Church had been shaken to its foundations not because its doctrine was false, but because it was a despotism!
From the abdication of Charles V. to 1600 was a period of political tranquillity in Germany. The reign of two conciliatory sovereigns, Ferdinand I., and his son Maximilian II., tended to produce a surface-calm, which, although ruffled, was not broken by the stern and despotic reign of Rudolf II., who succeeded in 1576.
It was a half century of unfruitful and sullen waiting—waiting for a future which no one could divine. Protestantism was not blossoming; but the seed was germinating amid elements good and evil, strangely mingled together.
While the Reformation was the leading fact in Europe at this period, another event had created a new and pervading atmosphere, in which all else existed. The impulse given to civilization by the taking of Constantinople by the Turks (1452), and the consequent disseminating of Greek culture throughout Europe, was a transforming event in the history of civilization. Literature, art, music, took on new forms and thrilled with a new life. The activity of the human mind manifested itself in everything. It was an age of great men and great things. Copernicus, followed by Tycho Brahe, Galileo, and Kepler, brought order into the heavens. The Medici in Italy, who were guiding these new and enriching streams which had set in from the East, helped to produce a wonderful art period, which swept in successive tides over Europe. Fainting and sculpture reached their climacteric. Music, still in its infancy, developed into the new forms of opera and oratorio.[[1]] And while these things were happening, a mysteriously inspired man—seeming to hold as in a crucible the wisdom distilled from all ages and all human experiences—was writing immortal plays in England!
The Teuton race does not take on the graces of life very quickly. The serious and sincere German mind must inspect the idea first, and then become thoroughly imbued with it, before the hand will act! But when the Teuton roots do begin to draw upon the soil, they strike deep and hold firmly, and know just what they are going to do with the rising sap; concerning themselves much more about that than the foolish branches and leaves!
So this new light did not at once flood Germany, but its influence was felt there. Thought was quickened, knowledge increased, art and science began to flourish, wealth accumulated, and the people became less simple and more luxurious in their ways of living. The King of Spain was occupied in his hopeless attempt to subdue the Netherlands, and Hungary and Austria were still struggling with the Turkish invasion.
Such was the condition at the beginning of the seventeenth century. In spite of the material advance there was a feeling of impending misfortune. But the magnitude of the coming disaster none then could have imagined or dreamed.
The fatal circumstance was that the Protestants were divided into two angry and hostile camps, at the very time when the Catholics, under the teachings of the Jesuits, were uniting with solid front against them. The Thirty Years' War would never have been undertaken against a united adversary who held four-fifths of Germany!
During the despotic reign of Rudolf II. the Protestants for their protection formed a Union with the Elector Palatine Frederick at its head. Thereupon the Catholic princes also united in a Catholic League under Maximilian of Bavaria. The forces were now gathering for the great explosion. Matthias had succeeded his brother Rudolf as Emperor.
When a great storm is impending, it takes only a trifling disturbance in equilibrium to precipitate it.
Such a disturbance occurred in Prague (1618) over a church which the Protestants were erecting. An angry mob armed itself, burst into the Imperial Castle at Prague, and flung out of the window two Catholic Bohemian nobles.
With this act of violence commenced the Thirty Years' War, which lasted through three reigns, those of Matthias, Ferdinand II., and Ferdinand III., and caused unparalleled misery in Germany.
Two years from that day the Protestant faith was obliterated in the realm of Austria, and the progress of a hundred years was wiped out. In three years more, not only Austria, but Germany, was in a worse condition than she had known for centuries—the wretched people, a prey to both parties, were slaughtered, robbed, driven hither and thither, and a country only recently rejoicing in its material prosperity was a waste and a ruin.
The Imperial troops were splendidly led by two great generals—Tilly and Wallenstein. The Protestant nations—England, Holland, Denmark, and Sweden—looked on in dismay as they saw a powerful and triumphant Protestantism being wiped out of existence in the land of its birth.
By 1629 Ferdinand II. considered his power re-established absolutely over all Germany. He issued what was called the "Edict of Restitution," which ordered the restoration of all Protestant territory to Catholic hands. Wallenstein, in addition to this, declared that reigning princes and a national diet should be abolished and all power centered in the Emperor! Indeed this Wallenstein was minded to play the dictator as well as general. He traveled in regal state, with his one hundred carriages, one thousand horses, fifteen cooks, and fifteen young nobles for his pages!
This taste for splendor was, like Wolsey's, his undoing. People began to fear the ambitious leader, and Ferdinand dismissed him. With rage and hate in his heart he retired to Prague to await developments.
Twelve years of war in horrible form had wrought utter ruin and broken the spirit of the Protestants. But help and hope suddenly came in 1630.
Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, with his heart all aflame with zeal to defend the falling cause of Protestantism in Germany, is the knightliest figure which adorns the pages of history.
We in this present age have reached a point of development when, without the quivering of an eyelash, we can hear of the destruction of suffering peoples, even if it involves the principles and things most sacred to us. Whether it be the effacing of Christianity in Crete, or of liberty in Cuba, the motto of practical men and nations is—"hands off."
Gustavus Adolphus had not learned that potent phrase. He was still in that undeveloped condition when the elemental impulses of the heart sway men's action. And without a regret, without an enfeebling doubt, he could turn his back upon a throne and an adoring people, in defense of an imperiled Protestantism in another land.
From the moment his foot touched the soil of Germany on that 4th of July, 1630, life and hope revived. The Emperor Ferdinand laughed and called him the "Snow King," who would melt away after one winter. But when one city after another was stormed and taken, when he left behind him a path of religious liberty and rejoicing—when Tilly was no longer able to cope with this Snow King and Wallenstein had to be recalled, and when it looked as if the work of twelve years might be undone, then Ferdinand no longer laughed!
Wallenstein would only return upon conditions which actually made him the lord and Ferdinand the subject. Having thus become absolute master of the Imperial cause, he confidently set about the task of defeating Gustavus.
The Queen of Sweden had joined her husband in Germany. On the 27th of October, 1632, he took leave of her. As he passed through the country, the people fell on their knees, kissing his garments, calling him Deliverer. He exclaimed, "I pray that the wrath of the Almighty may not be visited upon me, on account of this idolatry toward a weak and sinful mortal."
Before the great conflict began he made an address to his Swedes, and then the whole army united in singing Luther's grand hymn, "A tower of strength is our Lord!"
For hours the battle raged furiously, and while the issue was trembling in the balance, the sight of the riderless horse of the Swedish King, covered with blood and wildly galloping to and fro, told the awful story. The terrified animal had carried him with a shattered arm right into the enemy's ranks, where he was instantly shot.
While Wallenstein was retreating to Leipzig, the body of this most royal of kings was lying under a heap of dead, so mutilated by the hoofs of horses as to be almost unrecognizable.
The Protestant cause had lost its soul and inspiration. But, in falling, the heroic king had so broken the enemy that there was a long pause in hostilities. And the wily general retired again to Prague, there to evolve new plans for his own aggrandizement.
At this crisis a new champion arose. It was not to be expected that Richelieu, who had been putting down Protestantism with an iron hand in France, would feel sympathy for the Protestant cause in Germany! But that wary primate and minister was not going to stand on a little matter of religion, when he saw an advantage to be gained for France!
He had long ago determined how this conflict should end. He did not intend to permit Imperial Germany under Ferdinand to rise to ascendancy in Europe.
With the weight of France thrown into the scale when the Imperial cause was already so shattered by Gustavus, it was easy to see how it must end.
Wallenstein secretly opened negotiations from Prague with the French ambassador, and steadily disregarded the Emperor's orders to return to his command. The project was that he should go over to the Protestant side in return for the crown of Bohemia.
A general whom the traitor trusted, in turn betrayed him to the Emperor. Six soldiers, under the pretense of bearing dispatches, entered his room.
"Are you the traitor who is going to deliver your Emperor's troops to the enemy?" shouted one of the men.
Wallenstein realized that his hour had come. He said not a word, but stretched out his arms and silently received his death-blow.
With an invading French army in Germany, under the famous Marshals Turenne and Condé, looking about for choice bits of territory for France, a religious war had become a political one. It lasted until 1648, when the "Peace of Westphalia" concluded the most desolating struggle in the history of wars.
And what had been gained? The very principle for which it was undertaken was surrendered. Entire religious freedom was granted to Protestants (excepting in Austria); four great states were lost to the empire; a population of seventeen millions was reduced to four millions, with Imperial authority abridged and broken.
France took Alsace, and Sweden Pomerania. Holland and Switzerland were recognized as independent States. The supreme power was invested in the Reichstag, and the several German princes were made almost independent. The empire, as a unity, had been reduced to a shadow.
The devastation which had been wrought by those thirty terrible years cannot be described. Its details are too awful to be dwelt upon. Famine had converted men into wild beasts, who formed themselves into bands, and preyed on those they caught.
Such a band was attacked near Worms and was found cooking in a great caldron human legs and arms!
The spirit of the people was broken. Germany had been set back two hundred years. And for what? Not to accomplish any high purpose, not even from mistaken Christian zeal, but simply to carry out the despotic resolve of the Catholic Church to rule the minds and consciences of all men through its Popes and priesthood. It was the old battle commenced six centuries before. Had Henry not gone to Canossa in 1073, there had been no Thirty Years' War in 1618!
[[1]] For a comprehensive understanding of this period see Chart of Civilization in Six Centuries, "Who, When, and What."