The strange inactivity and want of interest, which Maximilian would at first sight seem to have displayed, while such grave issues were at stake, must be attributed to an event of great importance in the history of his own dominions. This was no less than his reception, at Vienna, of the Kings of Hungary and Poland, which set a seal to the negotiations and labours of many years by a final understanding between the two dynasties.[[86]] Under the terms of the Treaty of Vienna (July 22), Prince Louis of Hungary was definitely betrothed to Mary of Austria, while his sister Anne was delivered over to the Emperor to be educated, in view of her marriage with the young Archduke Ferdinand. The flattery and congratulations which surrounded these proceedings included the adoption of Louis by Maximilian as his successor in the Empire. But this was merely a formal move in the diplomatic game, calculated to win the support of the young Prince. The Emperor well knew that the Electors cared little for any wishes which he might express; otherwise we may be sure that Charles, not Louis, would have been designated.[[87]]
The completeness of Francis's success, and his efforts to rouse the Scots against England drove Henry VIII. into the arms of Ferdinand. (October 19.) English gold was liberally expended among the Confederates; and in February, 1516, 17,000 Swiss mercenaries moved on Verona, to join the Imperialists. Maximilian, whose forces were further swelled by levies of Tyrol and the Swabian League, was thus enabled to take the offensive in North Italy, with better prospects of success than on any previous occasion. In March he led a well-appointed army of 30,000 men across the Mincio, and forced the French and Venetians to raise the siege of Brescia and fall back upon their respective bases. Maximilian continued to advance rapidly beyond the Oglio and the Adda, until he was within nine miles of Milan itself. But now, when Bourbon was well-nigh incapable of any prolonged resistance, and when fortune, after so many rebuffs, seemed at length about to crown the Imperial arms with victory, Maximilian, for some inexplicable reason, hesitated to strike home, and withdrew his army once more behind the Adda. His motives for so extraordinary a step have never been discovered; and today we are as completely in the dark as were his own allies at the time. Pace, who, as English envoy in Maximilian's camp, had peculiar opportunities for clearing up the mystery, writes in his report to Wolsey, "that no man could, ne can, conject what thing moved him to be so slack at that time, when every man did see the victory in his hands, and the expulsion of the Frenchmen out of Italy."[[88]] Maximilian's own version—that the difficulties of foraging, the enemy's superiority in cavalry, and the stoppage of English money necessitated a retreat—is, in the face of incontestable facts, most improbable; and the only plausible suggestion—that the Emperor's change of policy was produced by a liberal outlay of French gold—is pure conjecture, unsupported by proofs. If we may believe the testimony of Pace in a matter which concerned his own person (and there is no reason to suspect his honesty), the Emperor, in his straits for money, actually profited by the English envoy's helpless condition, to extort a large sum of money from him, declaring that in case of a refusal he would make terms with France and would inform Henry that Pace had been responsible for his defection.[[89]]
The universal indignation which Maximilian's withdrawal aroused among the troops is shown by the nicknames of "Strohkönig" and "Apfelkönig" which were levelled at him.[[90]] The army rapidly melted away, and, after struggling through the Val Camonica in deep snow, he reached Innsbruck with but a few hundred Tyrolese troops. On May 26 Brescia surrendered to the French and Venetians, and of all the Emperor's conquests Verona alone continued its resistance.
The sorry outcome of Maximilian's last Italian expedition seriously impaired his credit, alike within the Empire and abroad. He now found it advisable to give heed to the counsellors of his grandson Charles, whose position had been materially altered by recent events. On January 23, 1516, the arch-intriguer Ferdinand had passed from the scene of his questionable triumphs; and the young Archduke was left master of the entire Spanish dominions, with all their boundless possibilities. In spite of Francis' intrigues in Gueldres and Navarre, and his scarcely veiled designs upon the throne of Naples, Charles persisted in a policy of friendship towards France. On August 13 he concluded the Treaty of Noyon, by which Francis was unquestionably the greater gainer. Charles' betrothal to the French king's infant daughter not only put in question his rights to Naples, but also condemned him to remain a bachelor for many years, until the bride should attain a marriageable age. He further undertook to win Maximilian's consent to the restoration of Verona to the Republic, for a sum of 200,000 ducats.
The Emperor at first repudiated an agreement which implied such a lowering of self-esteem, and again sought subsidies from Henry VIII. But the conclusion of the Perpetual Peace between Francis I. and the Swiss (November 29, 1516) left him entirely unsupported, and revealed to him the hopelessness of further resistance. By a treaty at Brussels, Maximilian agreed to surrender Verona and to conclude a six months' truce with the enemy. But wounded pride still kept him from consenting to a permanent peace with Venice, and it was not till July 1518 that he finally acknowledged his discomfiture. A five years' truce was concluded, under the terms of which Maximilian retained Roveredo and the district known as "the four Vicariates."[[91]] But these small acquisitions were completely outbalanced by the extensive pledging of domains, tolls and other sources of revenues, which the long-drawn-out war had rendered necessary, and by the further accumulation of an enormous debt. The dream of restoring Imperial influence in Italy was thus finally and completely dissolved.[[92]] While the French ruled supreme in the North of Italy and the Spaniards in the South, Germany alone saw herself excluded from the scenes of her former predominance. The blame of this failure must rest largely with the Imperial Diet, which hardly once throughout Maximilian's reign allowed itself to be moved by considerations of patriotism, and which by a studied neglect of the demands of foreign policy clearly thwarted the true interests of Germany. Yet, while there were several occasions on which the effective assistance of the Estates would have crowned the Imperial arms with success, it cannot be denied that on the whole Maximilian displayed an incapacity and want of decision which forms a striking contrast to his earlier record. The plain truth is that Maximilian lacked the distinguishing features of a great general, combining, if we may use a modern comparison, the qualities of a drill-sergeant and a cavalry-colonel. Brave as a lion himself,[[93]] he was apt to forget the duties of a commander in the fierce delights of the melée; and the dashing successes of his tactics were often neutralized by the want of a connected plan for the whole campaign. But we cannot review his military failings without bestowing the highest praise on his organizing and disciplinary talents. The landsknechts, who spread the fame of the German arms throughout Europe, were mainly his creation. His eager care for their welfare, and his readiness to share their fatigues and privations, won him the entire devotion, nay adoration of his soldiers; and a personal bond of union was thus established between them, which accounts for their willingness to submit to a continual discipline, such as was still contrary to the practice of the age. Among his many other accomplishments he possessed a practical knowledge of the founder's trade, which enabled him to invent several kinds of siege- and field-pieces, and to introduce various minor improvements in the art of war.
In the summer of 1518, while the settlement with Venice was still pending, Maximilian met the Estates of the Empire for the last time, at the Diet of Augsburg. His two main objects—the election of Charles as his successor, and a permanent military organization with a view to a crusade against the Turks,—met with little encouragement from the Estates, whose minds were filled with religious grievances and dreams of a national German Church. Hence they were scarcely likely to assist the Emperor, when they realized that his present policy involved entire dependence upon the Pope.[[94]] The endless complaints and proposals which characterized the Diet, "showed clearly that the highest power in the Empire no longer fulfilled its office, but also that the possibility of doing so had been removed from its hands." But Maximilian's comparative lifelessness at this time admits of another explanation, apart from his pre-occupation with the Venetian Treaty. Throughout the year he had been in failing health, and the pathetic words in which he bade farewell to his beloved Augsburg suggest that he was conscious of his approaching end. "God's blessing rest with thee, dear Augsburg, and with all upright citizens of thine! Many a happy mood have we enjoyed within thy walls; now we shall never see thee more!" Possibly at the prompting of Cajetan, the Papal Legate, Maximilian gave a most pointed proof of his lack of sympathy with Luther, by leaving the city only two days before the monk arrived.
The closing months of his life were troubled by the uncertainty of the succession to the Empire. His efforts to secure Charles' election as King of the Romans had almost been crowned with success. The day before he left Augsburg, he induced four of the Electors to meet him and to give their consent to the scheme. But his hopes were dashed to the ground by the opposition of Frederick of Saxony and Richard von Greifenklau, Elector of Trier, who contended that no election for the crown of the Romans was possible, while Maximilian himself still remained uncrowned as Emperor, and that Charles, as King of Naples, was expressly debarred from the Imperial dignity. The cup of his disappointment was full, and the Emperor retired wearily to Innsbruck, hoping to end his days in peace beneath the shadow of his beloved Alps. But one final indignity awaited him. The burghers of Innsbruck, who had suffered severely on former occasions from the Emperor's insolvency, resolutely closed their gates upon him; and he was obliged to retire to Lower Austria. On January 12, 1519, Maximilian's adventurous career closed at the little town of Wels, not far from Linz. The body was interred without pomp in the Church of St. George at Wiener Neustadt; but his heart was removed to Bruges and buried beside the remains of the consort, whose early loss had robbed him of life's brightest joy. Thus, amid disillusionment and humiliation, ends the career which had opened so full of rich promise. With Maximilian passed away the last Holy Roman Emperor, in the true mediaeval sense. The dominion of Charles V. was doubtless more universal than any which Europe had seen since the days of Charles the Great, but its universality was essentially modern rather than mediaeval—dynastic and personal, not founded on the old dreams of an united Christian commonwealth. "Henceforth the Holy Roman Empire is lost in the German, and after a few faint attempts to resuscitate old-fashioned claims nothing remains to indicate its origin save a sounding title and a precedence among the States of Europe."[[95]]
MAXIMILIAN IN 1518
From a Chalk Drawing by Dürer