It was in the beginning of September 1529 that Charles V., the victor by battles or by treaties over the Pope and the King of France, had landed at Genoa. The shouts of the Spaniards had saluted him as he quitted the Iberian peninsula; but the dejected eyes, the bended heads, the silent lips of the Italians given over to his hands, alone welcomed him to the foot of the Apennines. Everything led to the belief that Charles would indemnify himself on them for the apparent generosity with which he had treated the Pope.

CHARLES THE FIFTH.

They were deceived. Instead of those barbarous chiefs of the Goths and Huns, or of those proud and fierce emperors, who more than once had crossed the Alps and rushed upon Italy, sword in hand and with cries of vengeance, the Italians saw among them a young and graceful prince, with pale features, a delicate frame, and weak voice, of winning manners, having more the air of a courtier than a warrior, scrupulously performing all the duties of the Romish religion, and leading in his train no terrible cohorts of German barbarians, but a brilliant retinue of Spanish grandees, who complacently paraded the pride of their race and the splendour of their nation. This prince, the victor of Europe, spoke only of peace and amnesty; and even the Duke of Ferrara, who of all the Italian princes had most cause of fear, having at Modena placed the keys of the city in his hands, heard from his friendly lips the most unexpected encouragements.

Whence did this strange conduct proceed? Charles, had shown plainly enough, at the time of the captivity of Francis I., that generosity towards his enemies was not his dominant virtue. It was not long before this mystery was explained.

Almost at the same time with Charles there arrived in Italy, by way of Lyons and Genoa, three German burgesses, whose whole equipage consisted of six horses.[310] These were John Ehinger, burgomaster of Memmingen, who carried his head high, scattered money around him, and did not pride himself on great sobriety; Michael Caden, syndic of Nuremberg, a worthy, pious, and brave man, but detested by the Count of Nassau, the most influential of Charles's ministers; and, lastly, Alexis Frauentraut, secretary to the Margrave of Brandenburg, who, having married a nun, was in very bad esteem among the Roman-catholics. Such were the three men whom the Protestant princes, assembled at Nuremberg, commissioned to bear to the Emperor the famous Protest of Spire. They had purposely chosen these deputies from a middle station, under the impression that they would incur less danger.[311] To carry such a message to Charles V. was, to say the truth, a mission which few persons cared to execute. Accordingly a pension had been secured to the widows of these envoys in case of misfortune.

BOLDNESS OF THE ENVOYS.

Charles was on his way from Genoa to Bologna, and staying at Piacenza, when the three Protestant deputies overtook him. These plain Germans presented a singular contrast in the midst of that Spanish pomp and Romish fervour by which the young prince was surrounded. Cardinal Gattinara, the Emperor's chancellor, who sincerely desired a reform of the Church, procured them an audience of Charles V. for the 22d of September; but they were recommended to be sparing in their words, for there was nothing the Emperor so much disliked as a Protestant sermon.

The deputies were not checked by these insinuations and after having handed the protest to Charles, Frauentraut began to speak: "It is to the Supreme Judge that each one of us must render an account," said he, "and not to creatures who turn at every wind. It is better to fall into the most cruel necessity, than to incur the anger of God. Our nation will obey no decrees that are based on any other foundation than the Holy Scriptures."[312]

Such was the proud tone held by these German citizens to the Emperor of the West. Charles said not a word—it would have been paying them too much honour; but he charged one of his secretaries to announce an answer at some future time.