The contest was opened by the Protestants submitting a statement of their belief, divided into two parts, the one devoted to points of faith, the other to matters of practice. Prepared principally by Melanchthon, it presents their tenets in the mildest and least objectionable form, and becoming the recognized standard of their creed, it has attained a world-wide renown under the name of the Confession of Augsburg. The questions of celibacy and monastic vows were ably and temperately argued; their post-scriptural origin was shown, and the reasons which induced the reformers to reject them were placed in a light as little offensive as possible.[1101] At first, a counter-statement was anticipated from the Catholics, and negotiations were expected to be carried on by a comparison of the two, but they took higher ground, and contented themselves with drawing up a refutation of the Confession. The emperor was firm. His aspirations for the universal monarchy, which ever eluded his grasp, did not comport with encouraging independence of thought and freedom of religious belief. In his theory, uniform subordination of religion was a necessary element of the political system which was to make him sovereign of Europe, and he would listen to no compromise. He was inclined to summary measures, but the Catholic princes were hardly prepared for the consequences of an immediate rupture, and, after a threatening interval, another effort was made to effect a reconciliation. Conferences between the leading theologians on both sides took place, and the Lutherans, warned of their danger, were more disposed than ever to make concessions and to accept such terms as the stronger party were willing to offer them. At length, on the 8th of September, the draft of a proposed plan of accord was laid before the Diet. In this the points in dispute were referred to that future œcumenic council which had so long been demanded as the panacea for all ecclesiastical ills, and which, after more than thirty years of continued expectation, was destined to fail so miserably in reconciling difficulties. Such monasteries as had not been destroyed were to be maintained in the exercise of the customary rites and observances of religion. Abbots and communities who had been ejected were to be allowed to return; and all religious houses which had been emptied of their occupants were to be placed in the hands of officers appointed by the emperor, who were to administer to their possessions until the future council should decide upon all the points relating to monachism; the Protestants thus relieving themselves of the accusation that they were actuated by motives of worldly gain. Similar proposals were made with regard to communion in the two elements and clerical marriage. These were left as open questions for the council to settle, while a phrase of doubtful import subjected them in the mean time to the governments of the several states.[1102] The concessions in this project, however, though they might suit the views of temperate doctors and princes in Germany, and though even the Roman curia might be willing to grant them in order to save its threatened temporal power over the Teutonic states, did not suit the policy of Charles, who regarded the church as simply one of the instruments with which he was to build up his universal empire.[1103] It was not difficult for him, therefore, to bring to naught all such schemes of conciliation. The restoration of all abbots and monks was ordered; restitution of church lands was commanded, or their delivery to the emperor to be held until the assembling of the future council; and when the Diet adjourned, Charles issued a decree enjoining on all married priests to abstain from their wives, to eject them, and to seek absolution from their ordinaries.[1104]
The threatening aspect of affairs warned the Protestant princes that no time was to be lost in making provision for mutual defence, and ere the year was out the famous League of Schmalkalden enabled them to present a united front to the powers which they had virtually defied. Into the political history of that eventful time it is not my province to enter. Suffice it to say that they were able to maintain their position, and in their own states to oppose the reactionary movement which at times seemed to be on the point of destroying all that had been accomplished.
In this their task was complicated by the extravagances of those whose enthusiasm, unbalanced by reason, carried them beyond restraint. If Luther had found it no easy task to break the chains which for so many ages had kept in check the spirit of free inquiry, he discovered that it was impossible to control that spirit once let loose; and the wild excesses of Anabaptism were at once the exaggeration and the opprobrium of Lutheranism. Originally earnest and self-denying, the primitive Anabaptists had captivated the fiery soul of Carlostadt, while Luther was in his Patmos of Wartburg, but the pure asceticism of Storck and Muncer gradually grew irksome to the followers who flocked to their standard, and, if we may believe contemporary writers, the unchaining of human passions in that lawless horde resulted in the igneum baptisma, or fiery baptism, by which at Munster John Mathison encouraged the most hideous licentiousness in the elect, to be followed up by his successor, John of Leyden, who, in imitation of the patriarchs, promulgated the law of polygamy.[1105]
Luther, however, was quite as resolute in setting limits to his movement as Rome had been in forbidding all progress, and the Anabaptists were to him enemies as detestable as Catholics. The Protestant princes, moreover, had too much worldly wisdom to imperil their dangerous career by any alliance with fanatics whose extravagances provoked abhorrence so general. The cause of the Reformation, therefore, although it suffered no little from so portentous an illustration of the dangers resulting from the destruction of the ancient barriers, escaped all contamination in itself, and its leaders pursued their course undeviatingly.
Meanwhile the League of Schmalkalden accomplished its purpose. Henry VIII. and Francis I. were eager to seize the opportunity of encouraging dissension in the empire. The Turk became more menacing than ever. Charles, always ready to yield for a time when opposition was impolitic, gracefully abandoned the position assumed at Augsburg; and the negotiations of Schweinfurth and Nürnberg resulted in the decree of the Diet of Ratisbon in 1532, by which, until the assembling of the future council, all religious disturbances were prohibited, and the imperial chamber was commanded to undertake no prosecutions on account of heresy. Toleration was thus practically established for the moment, but the abbots and monks who had been ejected, and who had been anticipating their restoration, became naturally restive. Charles cunningly sent from Italy full powers to the chamber to decide as to what causes arose from religious disputes, and what were simply civil or criminal. Thus intrusted with the interpretation of the Ratisbon decree, the chamber assumed that claims on church lands were not included in the forbidden class, while old edicts prohibiting the observances of Lutheranism brought all religious questions within the scope of criminal law. The promised toleration was thus practically denied, but, fortunately for the Protestants, Ferdinand was anxiously negotiating for their recognition of his dignity as king of the Romans, and by the Transaction of Cadam in 1533 he purchased the coveted homage by accepting their construction of the edict of Ratisbon.
Still the Protestants complained of persecution and the Catholics of proselytism. The ensuing fifteen years were filled with a series of bootless negotiations, pretended settlements, quarrels, recriminations, and mutual encroachments which year after year occupied the successive Diets, and kept Germany constantly trembling on the verge of a desolating civil war. It would be useless to disturb the dust that covers these forgotten transactions, which can teach us nothing save that the Protestants still refused to recognize that the schism was past human power to heal; that Rome, recovering from her temporary hesitation, would not abate one jot of her pretensions to save her supremacy over half of Christendom;[1106] and that Charles, as a wily politician, was always ready in adversity to abandon with a good grace that which he had arrogantly seized in prosperity.[1107] How eager, indeed, were the Protestants to effect some compromise which should relieve them from their exceptional position is strikingly manifest in the Articles which Melanchthon and his friends, in 1535, submitted to Francis I., after the Sorbonne had refused to enter into a disputation or conference with them. In this document all non-essentials were abandoned; doctrinal dissidences were skilfully evaded, and stress only was laid upon such regulations as should remove the external corruption of the church. Melanchthon proposed that the monastic orders should be continued, but that the vows should not be perpetual, so that religion might not be disgraced by the excesses of those who had mistaken their vocation. So, as regards priestly celibacy, he proposed that, as human nature rendered it impossible to supply the multitude of parishes with men able to live in continence, those who could not preserve their purity should be allowed to marry; while, to prevent the dilapidation of church property, the higher positions should be reserved to men of mature age, who could lead a single life.[1108] The Sorbonne, in reply, condescended to no argument, but contented itself with asserting that the Protestants desired the subversion of all religion, while, on the other hand, Melanchthon had the satisfaction of being proclaimed a traitor by the Germans.
In all this the only point which possesses special interest for us is another authoritative attempt at reconciling the irreconcilable which occurred in 1541. After a conference between Melanchthon and Dr. Eck at Worms, Charles himself presented to the Diet of Ratisbon a statement of the questions in dispute, with propositions for mutual concession and compromise. In the course of this, he reviewed the practice of the church in various ages with regard to sacerdotal celibacy, admitting that the enforcement of it was not in accordance with the ancient canons, and indicating a willingness to see it abrogated.[1109] The Protestants, who were ready to make many sacrifices for peace, hailed this intimation with triumph, stoutly insisting on the repeal of the obnoxious rule, which they stigmatized as unjust and pernicious.[1110] So nearly did the parties at length approach each other, that there appeared every reason to anticipate a successful result to the effort, when Paul III. again interfered and pronounced all the proceedings null and void, as the church alone had power to regulate its internal affairs. The expectations excited by these negotiations naturally stimulated the desire of the people for a change in the discipline of the church, and the next year we find Paul III. obliged to exhort the Bishop of Merseburg to resist the clamors of his subjects, who demanded the abrogation of priestly celibacy and the use of the cup for the laity, under threats of ejecting him. The pope evidently considered the Germans unduly impatient, since they objected to await the assembling of the Council of Trent, which was called to decide upon these matters.[1111]
Charles had long recognized that the perpetual menace of a powerful confederation such as the Schmalkaldic League, entertaining constant relations with the external enemies of the empire, was incompatible with the peace of Germany and with an imperial power such as he was resolved to wield. The time at last came for the development of his plans. The skill of Alva and the treachery of Maurice of Saxony were crowned with success. The battle of Muhlberg broke the power of the Protestants utterly, and laid them helpless at the feet of their bitterest foes. Yet the progress of the new ideas had already placed them beyond the control of even the triumphant Charles, though he had the Elector of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse in his dungeons. When, at the Diet of Augsburg, in 1548, he proposed the curious arrangement known as the Interim, by which he hoped to keep matters quiet until the final verdict of that œcumenic council which constantly vanished in the distance, he felt it necessary to permit all married priests to retain their wives until the question should be decided by the future council. A faint expression of a preference for celibacy, moreover, was significant both in what it said and what it left unsaid.[1112]