CHAPTER II.
A REFORMATION ESTABLISHED UNDER THE REIGN OF LIBERTY.
(1524-1527.)
Frederick, Duke Of Holstein.
Christian I. of Denmark, the first king of the house of Oldenburg, grandfather of Christian II., had left two sons, John and Frederick. John succeeded him in the sovereignty of the three kingdoms. Frederick, for whom the queen Dorothea, wife of Christian I., felt a warm predilection, had not the genius of his nephew Christian II. He was destitute of the intelligence which embraced at once so many objects, the swift and accurate glance, and the indefatigable activity which distinguished that strange monarch. Frederick had a tranquil soul, a prudent and moderate temper, a serenity and liveliness which charmed his mother and his connections, but which were not qualifications sufficient for a king. Now, if he did not possess the good qualities of his nephew, he was at the same time without his cruelty or his violence; or at least he showed these only towards that unfortunate prince. The queen Dorothea had a passionate longing to give a throne to her favorite son, and urged her husband to assign to him Holstein and Schleswig. Christian yielded to her wishes and gave the sovereignty of these duchies to her second son, then of the age of eleven. He did this only by word of mouth, having left no will.[[245]] The inhabitants of these provinces were satisfied, preferring a sovereign of their own to dependence on the king of the three northern realms.
It was otherwise with King John. As he was unwilling to renounce these provinces, he resolved to get his brother to enter the Church. He therefore sent him to study at Cologne and procured him a canonry in that town. But Frederick was not inclined for this. The barrenness of the scholastic theology disgusted him and the Reformation attracted him. Instigated by the queen, his mother, he quitted Cologne, renouncing his canonry, his office, his prebend, his breviary, and his easy life. He preferred a crown, even with its toils and weariness, and demanded of his brother, the king, his portion of the duchies, which, said he, ought at least to be divided between them. The king consented. Frederick settled in Holstein and ruled his subjects in peace. He held intercourse with some disciples of Luther, took an interest in their evangelical labors, and gave them permission to diffuse the doctrine of the Reformation among the Cimbri.[[246]]
His brother being dead, and his nephew Christian having succeeded to the three Scandinavian kingdoms, the peaceful Frederick found himself called to higher destinies. His gentleness was as widely known as his nephew’s violence. Could the Danes find a better king?
At the time of Christian’s misfortunes, the bishops of Jutland, as we have stated, actually offered the crown to Frederick. The Council of the Kingdom did the same and declared that if he rejected it they would invite a foreign prince. The duke, at this time fifty-two years of age, foresaw the anxieties and the struggles to which he was about to expose himself. Nevertheless, the kingdoms of his father were offered to him, and he could not bear the thought of seeing them pass to another dynasty. He therefore accepted the crown. Some portions of the kingdom, and particularly Copenhagen, remained in the power of the former king.
No sooner had Frederick received the crown than he tasted the bitterness of the golden cup which had just been offered him. The priests and the nobles required of him the maintenance and even the enlargement of the privileges of which Christian had intended to deprive them. Frederick had to promise ‘that he would never permit a heretic, whether a disciple of Luther or not, to preach or teach secretly or publicly doctrines contrary to the God of heaven or to the Roman Church,’ and to add ‘that if any were found in his kingdom he would deprive them of life and goods.’[[247]] This was hard. Frederick inclined to the evangelical doctrines, and he knew that many of his subjects did the same. Should he forbid them? But the crown was only to be had at this price.
Henry IV. paid dearer for Paris; he abandoned his creed and professed himself a Roman Catholic. Frederick meant to keep his faith; it is even possible that, full of confidence in the power of truth, he hoped to see it, in spite of the bishops, win the victory. However this might be, he confined himself, when writing to the Pope, to a brief announcement of his accession, without making any promise. Clement VII., offended at this silence, reminded him of the promise which he had made at the time of his election, adding a grain of flattery to his exhortations. ‘I am well acquainted,’ he said, ‘with that royal virtue of which you gave proof by avowing your resolution to persecute with fire and sword the heresy of Luther.’[[248]] This was a thoroughly papal speech.
Frederick’s Liberal Leanings.
Frederick felt the difficulty of his position; and after a thorough investigation he came to a decision in favor of religious liberty. Must we suppose that he repented of the engagement which he had made? Did he believe that if a man has taken an oath to commit a crime (persecution assuredly would have been one), it is a sin to fulfil it? We cannot tell. Naturally circumspect and reflective, Frederick would require time to pass from the first doubts excited in him by the Romish doctrines to a firm belief in evangelical truth.