Chapter 21. Scourge of Mars
Chapter 21. Scourge of Mars
1531-1533; France, Germany, Hungary, Italy & Ottoman Empire.
“God the Almighty has made our rulers mad; they actually think they can do—and order their subjects to do—whatever they please.”
— Martin Luther, To Temporal Authority: What Extent Should It Be Obeyed
Music Accompaniment: Muhayyer Pesrev
The Story of Virginia, Botticelli.
Though the Treaty of Longwy had brought peace to Europe, issues remained between the Houses of Habsburg and Valois. France was now the preeminent power in Italy—controlling the Duchy of Milan, while Naples was held by Louis IV, a member of the House of Lorraine who maintained close relations with France. Florence maintained its alliance with France, as did Montferrat and Saluzzo—with the Pope having friendly relations with the French crown more out of need than want. Despite this, the issue of the growth of Protestantism remained an issue in Germany and throughout Europe—no longer was it limited to a few rowdy preachers; it was a movement that threatened the unity of both Christendom and the Church. There were calls from the German Princes—as well as Emperor Charles V that a general council should be summoned to deal with the outward growth of the Protestant faith. Though Martin Luther and other reformers were open to the idea of a council, they were adamantly against the idea of a Papal Council, demanding that the council should be held in Germany and should exclude the Pope. King François had also been wary of such a council—he was friendly with the German Protestants and saw them as a useful ally against the emperor. With Pius IV having been concerned with the political rivalry between the King of France and the Emperor, he made no move to summon a council—allowing Protestantism to grow further during his pontificate, with more radical sects, such as the Anabaptists, while Ulrich Zwingli preached his theology in Switzerland.
Pius V recognized the need to deal with the reformers—and he looked to King François as an ally to deal with it. Though François remained tolerant of the Protestant movements, his holdings in Italy now meant that he must pay more heed to the Italian princes and allies. If he wished to maintain France’s position in Italy, that meant an alliance with the Pope and Catholic Church—not with the Protestants. Charles V had lost his main foothold in Italy, the crown of Naples. Though he still maintained Sicily by the Spanish crown, his influence in the peninsula was now at its lowest ebb; if the emperor could not curb the religious controversies that were riven through Europe, most especially in his dominions within the Holy Roman Empire, then it to François it was obvious. The King of France, as Most Christian King must safeguard the church. François offered his support to Pius V, who issued a decree for a council to be held in Bologna beginning in the spring of 1531. So began the Council of Bologna. The summoning of the council marked a period of closer cooperation between François and the Pope—even as the Protestant began to grow further within France, with both the king’s sister, the Queen of Navarre, and his mistress, Anne de Boullan, recently named the Duchess of Plaisance were both known for their Protestant sympathies. François also did not alter his foreign policies—while pressing the Pope to summon a council, he remained friendly towards the German Protestants and hoped for their inclusion in such a council.
Emperor Charles V was meanwhile dealing with his concerns—though grateful to hear that Pius V was finally to embark on a much-needed course, he was suspicious of François’ involvement—especially given his previous opposition to the calling of a council. The emperor also suffered from personal issues in the aftermath of his death, Empress Mary. “The emperor was gravely depressed at the death of the empress—for several days, he refused to eat, and we feared that he might expire as well,” Nicolas Perrenot de Granvelle wrote in a private letter to his wife. “He has recovered, but with great difficulty. The Treaty of Longwy is a humiliation to him—even more so is his betrothal to the Princess Renée.” Charles suffered further losses in 1530—his beloved chancellor, Mercurio Gattinara died, and he was succeeded by Nicolas Perrenot de Granvelle—who pressed Charles to lean away from the universalist policies pursued by Gattinara, to follow a foreign policy that would benefit most of his domains in the Low Countries and within the empire. It was in 1530 that the Spanish contingent within the emperor’s court began to disappear completely—with more Spanish courtiers and ministers giving their allegiance to the Prince of Asturias—their future king. 1530 marks the definite division between Charles V as a ‘universal monarch’ and beyond 1530—where the emperor increasingly emphasized his role as Duke of Burgundy as sovereign of the Low Countries and Holy Roman Emperor.
Portrait of a Lady by Girolamo di Carpi.
Believed to be of Renée of France following her marriage to Charles V.
Charles V was married to Princess Renée of France in April 1530—scarcely eight months following the death of Mary. “It is not a marriage that I wish to embark upon,” Charles wrote in a private letter to his brother Ferdinand. “It is not of passion—but of politics, and in honor of the late empress—who beseeched that I must remarry.” The marriage was one of state—made in hopes of preserving the peace made at Longwy and giving the emperor time to plan his next move. There was also the matter of children—at thirty-one and with just one surviving son, Charles knew that he must remarry. Must he do it so soon? Perhaps not—but it was a match that he must pursue. The handover of the Princess Renée occurred at Cateau-Cambrésis. Before she departed from France, François had pressed upon Renée, as the sole remaining daughter of Anne of Brittany to renounce any claims to the Duchy of Brittany—in return, she was given the Duchy of Chartres—with the king promising that the appanage could be inherited by any future children she might have. Renée’s suite had a large Breton contingent, this included her governess and confidant, Michelle de Saubonne, who had been put in charge of her household. There was also Jacqueline de Rohan as a maid of honor, while Jean de Brosse, son of the Count of Penthièvre was to be her secretary. Renée was met at the border by Charles Brandon, the Viscount of Strêye—who introduced her to the high members of her household, which included many former women and men who had served the Empress Mary. “The Princess of France is very pretty…” Anne de Croÿ wrote in a letter to her husband. “She gave the viscount a pretty speech and received his allegiance as if she had been a queen or empress for years. She will manage well—but she is not Empress Mary.” Renée formally met the emperor at Mechelen—when she bowed low to him, he raised her, before planting two kisses upon her cheek. They were wed within the chapel of Mechelen by the Bishop of Cambrai—so began the emperor’s second marriage.
Charles V also had to contend with issues within the empire—the Protestant faith had continued to grow, and his attempts to impede it throughout the 1520s had proved a complete failure. It was in 1530 that Charles issued letters for the Diet of Regensburg, for the Diet to deal with three issues: defense of the frontiers, issues relating to the currency and public wellbeing, and third being religious disagreements within Christianity. The emperor hoped to find some solution and ensure that Germany did not devolve into chaos. The calling for the Diet of Regensburg overlapped with the Pope’s decree for the opening of the Council of Bologna. This caused great unease amongst the Protestants—they flatly refused to attend any such council headed by the Pope and pressed for a general council to be held in Germany—without the Pope’s presence. Even amongst the Catholics, this idea was not viewed with total distaste—the idea of Conciliarism remained popular in some segments, where it was believed that general councils had supreme authority—even over the Pope. One German writer, writing under the pseudonym of Titus Honorius published a treatise named Sanctae Germaniae Ecclesiae in 1528 which covered the history of the church in Germany, while arguing that the Holy Roman Emperor by right held the power of Jura Regalia that had been reduced in the preceding centuries—and that the emperor could summon a General Council without the authority of the Pope. This treatise combined the thought of contemporary conciliarism with those on imperial reform—resulting in a movement that would become known as Honorianism, which sought to maintain the future of the Catholic Church in Germany while limiting papal power in favor of the emperor. Many others viewed the Council of Bologna with suspicions as well—especially with the King of France’s ardent backing and the idea that many French prelates would attend when previously the French had opposed any such council. The emperor asked that the Protestants prepare a document outlining their beliefs—in the hope that a compromise could be reached between both parties. The Diet of Regensburg was opened in July of 1530—and a few days after the opening, the Regensburg Confession was presented to the emperor. This outlined the beliefs of the Lutheran party—and had been created at the behest of the Elector of Saxony by Philip Melanchthon and Johannes Brenz, as well as Martin Luther—though Luther was not present at the diet, owing to his status as an outlaw.
It was during this time that there was a growing crisis among the marches of the empire. Though the Treaty of Longwy had secured peace between France and the empire, it did not include Bohemia or Hungary as signatories. Though John Zápolya had been forced from Bohemia, he continued to cause trouble along the borders, sending raiders into both Moravia and Austria. “So long as Zápolya does as he pleases, he causes chaos—both in my daughter’s realm and your own,” Mary of Austria wrote in a terse letter to her brother. “If Hungary acts against us, and not with us—it is no better than having the Turks upon our doorstep.” Zápolya’s reign had seen him use his vast private wealth and the support of the lower nobility to increase the power of the crown—to the chagrin of the great magnates, who feared the resurgence of a powerful crown. The Treaty of Longwy had seen French support dwindle; François no longer paid the Hungarian king’s pension and had recalled the artillerymen he had dispatched, too. Poland too, could not offer Zápolya much support, with the King of Poland licking his wounds in the aftermath of his loss in Germany, and the Sejm in little mood to condone yet another foreign adventure. The Ottoman scourge remained a threat—and in 1530 Suleiman demanded tribute from the King of Hungary. The Ottoman emissary, Malkoç Bey demanded a sum of 200,000 florins—with another 30,000 years to be paid yearly, with Zápolya to recognize Suleiman as his father and suzerain. “The choice is yours,” Malkoç stated boldly to Zápolya in a private audience. “You and your kingdom may live under the largesse of Sultan Suleiman, Sultan of Sultans, and Khan of Khans—or you may die by his sword and be trampled underneath his boot.” Malkoç Bey’s demands were odious—but not without advantages. The Bey promised that the Ottoman Sultan would provide the King of Hungary as his loyal ally with whatever troops, supplies, and munitions he might need to deal with the Habsburgs.
Duel before the Battle of Bár.
“The Franks have failed you,” Malkoç supposedly whispered to Zápolya in another meeting—pouring poisons into his ear like the sweetest honey. “You must look to us for your salvation and victory—or else your demise and defeat.” John Zápolya was utterly anguished over the decision—200,000 florins was money he did not have; despite his troubles with the Queen Dowager of Hungary, his sincerest wish had been an alliance with the Habsburgs to deal with the Ottomans and their threat to Europe. If the emperor and his sister should be too blind to work with him because of their shortsightedness, then they must forever be his enemies—and the Turks must be his new friends. Zápolya agreed to Malkoç Bey’s demands after several days of consideration, in grave secrecy. “The king made a show before all the court of dismissing Malkoç in great anger,” Pavle Bakic wrote in his private diaries. “But in truth, it was a farce—Malkoç’s baggage train was loaded down with wealth as he left—with the promise of more.” Zápolya then summoned the Hungarian diet to raise funds for the tribute—but under the guise of raising funds for the army. With the support of the lower gentry, Zápolya levied a fresh round of taxes primarily upon the magnates. This new program of taxation caused alarm among the magnates—most especially the small circle that remained who championed the claims of Elizabeth Jagiellonica, Queen of Bohemia and daughter and heir of Louis II. A group of magnates met at Sopron, where a rival diet called the Diet of Sopron was held. They signed a deed declaring their support for Elizabeth as Queen of Hungary—and naming John Zápolya as a usurper. Once more Hungary was threatened with the possibility of chaos.
The Diet of Regensburg ultimately adjourned without finding a solution. The Protestants remained adamant that there were certain issues that they could not compromise upon—and their faith continued to grow and spread throughout the empire. Though the Council of Bologna opened in 1531, its attendance was primarily limited to Italian and French prelates. Pius V endured opposition from the Cardinals and the Curia for summoning the council—and the antipathy of the emperor to the council was well known, resulting in low attendance from the German prelates. Spanish prelates boycotted the assembly with the support of Prince Ferdinand, who believed any council within Italy would remain under the thumb of the French—especially he learned that French troops from the Armée d’Italie would serve as protection for the council while it was in Bologna. English clergy showed little interest in attending as well. “We have grave concerns of the outcome of this council—and fear that the French may press you into a course that will undermine our Holy Church,” Prince Ferdinand wrote in a private letter to Pius V. “We ask only that you consider holding the next sessions of the council outside the confines of Italy…” The Doge of Venice offered up Verona as an alternative location, while the burghers of Lucerne offered to host the council in Switzerland. Pius V answered that he would consider all possibilities carefully—but that the Council of Bologna would remain open and begin its work regardless—and that all were welcome to attend.
Martin Luther and the Wittenberg Reformers.
Troubles in Germany amongst the Protestant princes continued; Philip of Hesse and John, the Elector of Saxony met at Mühlhausen in Thuringia. Both had been disappointed with the collapse of the League of Zwickau, and the two princes negotiated the creation of a new religious league, the League of Mühlhausen. Compared to Zwickau, the League of Mühlhausen was organized as a defensive religious alliance, with its members pledging to defend each other if their territories were attacked by Emperor Charles V. The Elector of Saxony was intent to mold the new alliance into a religious alliance—it was stipulated that any potential member states had to adhere to either the Lutheran Regensburg Confession or the Pentapolitan Confession, better known as the Swabian Confession, which had been presented to the emperor at Regensburg by the southern German cities of Konstanz, Lindau, Memmingen, Strasbourg, and Tübingen. The formation of yet another Protestant league within the confines of the empire-especially one aimed at the emperor himself caused Charles V great unease. “With each moment, the Protestants grow bolder—and they slip further away from our church.” A Papal diplomat in Germany wrote back to Pope Pius V. “How can our differences be resolved when what divides us grows deeper by the day?” Pius V attempted in aim to induce both German prelates to attend the Council of Bologna—as well as Protestants, with Pius V even sending a Papal Nuncio, Pier Paolo Vergerio to Wittenburg to negotiate with Martin Luther personally—an idea that would have been an anathema to the Popes nearly a decade before. “I do not quarrel with Vergerio,” Luther wrote to his wife, Katharina von Bora. “But in this, we cannot be swayed. A council in Italy, headed by the Pope and his lackeys would only do damage to our cause. If a council must be held, let it be held here in Germany—let the Catholics decide as they must, but us Protestants must have our due—official recognition of our creed.”
The first sessions of the Council of Bologna in the spring of 1531 accomplished little—despite the King of France’s newfound strength in Italy, there remained great division within the Papal curia regarding holding such a council; reformists thought it a useless course to consider without Protestant attendance, while conservatives believed it to be mere pandering. The issue of French influence over the council hung heavy as well, with squabbles between the Italian and French prelates taking precedence over religious, doctrinal, or theological discussions. The Papal treasury also remained in a desperate situation—the payment of indemnities to the French had placed papal finances into such a dire strait that the Pope was in little position to fund such an endeavor. “His Holiness is reduced to beggaring himself for this council,” Cardinal Pucci, a member of the curia wrote scathingly. “He begs for scraps from the tables of the King of France while holding his hand out for alms for the King of Naples…neither which show little interest in aiding him. King François has no true desire for this council… he merely wishes to be in control of it.” Financial difficulties ultimately forced the closure of the council at Bologna in October of 1531. Pius V reached an agreement with the Republic of Venice for the council to be moved to Verona—but participation plummeted even further and would remain poor. In 1533, the council would be shuttered completely—without completing its task.
Meanwhile, the chaos in Hungary continued. The magnates at the Diet of Sopron were encouraged in their rebellion by Mary of Austria—she provided aid to the rebels surreptitiously—through both her Bohemian privy purse and from Austrian revenues allocated to her by her position as Governor of Austria. Hungary’s army remained in a precarious condition, with John Zápolya’s private troops providing the backbone of the new royal force, with his own private wealth going to fund it. He relied heavily upon irregular troops, who carried out the raids across the borders into Bohemia and Austria. The magnate’s army clashed with royal troops near Györ and succeeded in occupying the city—burnishing the cause of the rebels. When news reached Zápolya in Buda, he ordered the raising of further levies from his private estates to fortify the areas to the capital. Petrus de Monte Libano, a Maronite friar who had served Louis II as a diplomat in Persia was dispatched to Constantinople. Petrus was ordered not only to remit the remaining tribute that was owed—but was given a sealed letter to be directed into the hands of the Sultan. In it, Zápolya requested the sultan’s aid in dealing with the Habsburgs.
Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, c. 1538.
Suleiman the Magnificent received the Hungarian envoy with pleasantries at Topkapi Palace. Aside from the Sultan, his Grand Vizier, Pargali Ibrahim Pasha was present, as was the Greek Patriarch, Jeremiah. From behind a screen, the Sultan’s premier concubine watched—a maiden from Ruthenia known as Hürrem, while Venetian diplomats called her Roxelana—maiden from Ruthenia. “Petrus was received in the second courtyard—with the Sultan seated upon his gilded throne,” an anonymous participant of the Hungarian mission wrote. “The palace dwarfed anything that could be found in Hungary… peacocks roamed about the courtyard along with gazelle… and the meanest courtier was dressed more extravagantly than the richest magnate… this great palace, built upon the grounds of the vanquished corpse of Rome—it was here that Hungary’s destiny seemed to lie.” When the Sultan received the request of John Zápolya of Hungary, his declaration before his court was bolder than anything they had ever heard in the past: “I am the shadow of Allah on this Earth—Sultan of Sultans, Khan of Khans… I am the Lord of the Universe; kingdoms have crumbled to dust before my ancestors—and I shall do the same. Let Europe tremble before my blade: Vienna shall molder; Prague shall rot. The crescent will hang over Aachen, and I shall dine in the hall of false kings and prophets, and our son in Hungary shall reign supreme.” All the court was in awe—including the Hungarian diplomats, who soon realized what they had been asked to do. They had not merely come bearing money—they had given the Ottomans an open invitation to ravage further into Europe, with their king’s full approval.
By the spring of 1532, Suleiman mustered an army in Bulgaria of 120,000 men. Aside from the elite Siphai and Janissaries, the army incorporated troops from Moldavia and Wallachia. Sultan Suleiman himself took supreme command of the forces with the Grand Vizier, Pargali Pasha named Serasker—a position that gave the Grand Vizier the power to give orders in the sultan’s name. The weather was fair and allowed the Ottoman army to arrive in Hungarian territory in the summer—one of the hottest, which caused issues amongst horses in the baggage train—though not the camels. John Zápolya met Suleiman near the village of Bár where Louis II had been slain almost six years before, to the day. Zápolya and Suleiman toured the battlefield—and Zápolya soon added his forces to the Ottoman army, which included some 12,000 cavalrymen. The Sultan was given a magnificent entry into Buda—with his army camped outside the city walls. “Overnight, a city sprung up outside of Buda,” one unnerved burgher wrote to a friend. “Foreign smells, foreign people—a slice of Arabia in the middle of Hungary.” John Zápolya hosted Suleiman at Buda Castle, where he was treated to grand entertainments—they were entertainments that Zápolya could seldom afford, but he knew that they must be given. Sultan Suleiman was also introduced to Queen Anne—one of the first recorded meetings between an Ottoman Sultan and a foreign consort. “Gracious queen—all that you and your husband desire shall soon be yours,” Suleiman was reported to have said upon their meeting.
The march into Hungary had thrown Europe into chaos—and mayhem reigned along the border that Hungary shared with the Holy Roman Empire. When news spread of Suleiman’s reception at Buda, Mary was one of the first to write to Charles V. “The Turks are preparing for another campaign—they do not seek to vanquish Hungary… it is already theirs. What they seek is what is rightfully ours.” Charles V ordered Landsknechts dispatched to the Austrian frontier—while Prince Ferdinand sent a contingent of 1000 harquebusiers. Mary too did her part—bargaining with the Bohemian Diet for funding to reinforce fortresses along the Bohemian border—while dispatching 800 men under Ulrich of Hardegg, the hereditary Cupbearer of Austria who held the County of Glatz in Bohemia. The Imperial Diet was held in September of 1532—as Turkish troops bore down on holdings held by the Sopronist rebels within Hungary. The Diet was held at Trier—where the possible Turkish invasion was the primary subject—yet religious troubles also dominated the discussion, as the Mühlhausen League’s influence continued to grow. The Diet of Trier was also the first diet that Empress Renée attended—and the first showing of her possible religious tendencies. She met with Philipp Melanchthon and Justus Jonas, as well as Martin Bucer and Wolfgang Capito. The Protestants of the Diet were firm in their demands—they still had no interest in attending the council headed by the Papacy and pointed to the hypocrisy of the Catholic party—they resisted a general council held in Germany while refusing resolutely to attend the Council of Bologna—or Council of Verona, as it now was known. The proceeding years had seen significant growth of the Honorian party among the Catholics, who firmly believed that the emperor held the right to call such a proceeding. “The emperor was held in a vice between the vying the parties—the Honorians wished for the emperor to call a general council; the Protestants remained open to attending such a council, without papal interference…” one attendee to the Diet of Trier wrote in a letter. “…which a council summoned by the emperor would ensure. There remained a large segment of Catholics who believed such an idea tantamount to blasphemy… but the emperor was in desperate straits; the Turks would maraud Germany in due course… he knew that he would need to work with the Protestants, and not against them. The emperor had always been devout—and though he certainly had not been swayed by the ideas of Honorian, he was not averse to any idea that promised him more authority. More than that, he truly wished to bridge the divide between the Protestants and Catholics… if it took him summoning a council, was that not a worthy cause?” Charles V was finally pressed into agreeing to the demands put before him—in exchange for the support of the imperial army and the princes, he agreed that a council—which he termed a synod—should be summoned to discuss the religious issues plaguing the empire. While the Council of Verona devolved into further bickering, Charles V announced that the Synod of Trier would open in April of 1533; those who supported the reformation were given religious liberty[1] until the meeting of the synod, while all matters of religion placed before the imperial court were paused as well. A final article lifted Martin Luther’s outlaw status and granted him free passage to the synod should he wish to attend.
[1] In effect, like the Nuremburg Religious Peace of 1532.
1531-1533; France, Germany, Hungary, Italy & Ottoman Empire.
“God the Almighty has made our rulers mad; they actually think they can do—and order their subjects to do—whatever they please.”
— Martin Luther, To Temporal Authority: What Extent Should It Be Obeyed
Music Accompaniment: Muhayyer Pesrev
The Story of Virginia, Botticelli.
Though the Treaty of Longwy had brought peace to Europe, issues remained between the Houses of Habsburg and Valois. France was now the preeminent power in Italy—controlling the Duchy of Milan, while Naples was held by Louis IV, a member of the House of Lorraine who maintained close relations with France. Florence maintained its alliance with France, as did Montferrat and Saluzzo—with the Pope having friendly relations with the French crown more out of need than want. Despite this, the issue of the growth of Protestantism remained an issue in Germany and throughout Europe—no longer was it limited to a few rowdy preachers; it was a movement that threatened the unity of both Christendom and the Church. There were calls from the German Princes—as well as Emperor Charles V that a general council should be summoned to deal with the outward growth of the Protestant faith. Though Martin Luther and other reformers were open to the idea of a council, they were adamantly against the idea of a Papal Council, demanding that the council should be held in Germany and should exclude the Pope. King François had also been wary of such a council—he was friendly with the German Protestants and saw them as a useful ally against the emperor. With Pius IV having been concerned with the political rivalry between the King of France and the Emperor, he made no move to summon a council—allowing Protestantism to grow further during his pontificate, with more radical sects, such as the Anabaptists, while Ulrich Zwingli preached his theology in Switzerland.
Pius V recognized the need to deal with the reformers—and he looked to King François as an ally to deal with it. Though François remained tolerant of the Protestant movements, his holdings in Italy now meant that he must pay more heed to the Italian princes and allies. If he wished to maintain France’s position in Italy, that meant an alliance with the Pope and Catholic Church—not with the Protestants. Charles V had lost his main foothold in Italy, the crown of Naples. Though he still maintained Sicily by the Spanish crown, his influence in the peninsula was now at its lowest ebb; if the emperor could not curb the religious controversies that were riven through Europe, most especially in his dominions within the Holy Roman Empire, then it to François it was obvious. The King of France, as Most Christian King must safeguard the church. François offered his support to Pius V, who issued a decree for a council to be held in Bologna beginning in the spring of 1531. So began the Council of Bologna. The summoning of the council marked a period of closer cooperation between François and the Pope—even as the Protestant began to grow further within France, with both the king’s sister, the Queen of Navarre, and his mistress, Anne de Boullan, recently named the Duchess of Plaisance were both known for their Protestant sympathies. François also did not alter his foreign policies—while pressing the Pope to summon a council, he remained friendly towards the German Protestants and hoped for their inclusion in such a council.
Emperor Charles V was meanwhile dealing with his concerns—though grateful to hear that Pius V was finally to embark on a much-needed course, he was suspicious of François’ involvement—especially given his previous opposition to the calling of a council. The emperor also suffered from personal issues in the aftermath of his death, Empress Mary. “The emperor was gravely depressed at the death of the empress—for several days, he refused to eat, and we feared that he might expire as well,” Nicolas Perrenot de Granvelle wrote in a private letter to his wife. “He has recovered, but with great difficulty. The Treaty of Longwy is a humiliation to him—even more so is his betrothal to the Princess Renée.” Charles suffered further losses in 1530—his beloved chancellor, Mercurio Gattinara died, and he was succeeded by Nicolas Perrenot de Granvelle—who pressed Charles to lean away from the universalist policies pursued by Gattinara, to follow a foreign policy that would benefit most of his domains in the Low Countries and within the empire. It was in 1530 that the Spanish contingent within the emperor’s court began to disappear completely—with more Spanish courtiers and ministers giving their allegiance to the Prince of Asturias—their future king. 1530 marks the definite division between Charles V as a ‘universal monarch’ and beyond 1530—where the emperor increasingly emphasized his role as Duke of Burgundy as sovereign of the Low Countries and Holy Roman Emperor.
Portrait of a Lady by Girolamo di Carpi.
Believed to be of Renée of France following her marriage to Charles V.
Charles V was married to Princess Renée of France in April 1530—scarcely eight months following the death of Mary. “It is not a marriage that I wish to embark upon,” Charles wrote in a private letter to his brother Ferdinand. “It is not of passion—but of politics, and in honor of the late empress—who beseeched that I must remarry.” The marriage was one of state—made in hopes of preserving the peace made at Longwy and giving the emperor time to plan his next move. There was also the matter of children—at thirty-one and with just one surviving son, Charles knew that he must remarry. Must he do it so soon? Perhaps not—but it was a match that he must pursue. The handover of the Princess Renée occurred at Cateau-Cambrésis. Before she departed from France, François had pressed upon Renée, as the sole remaining daughter of Anne of Brittany to renounce any claims to the Duchy of Brittany—in return, she was given the Duchy of Chartres—with the king promising that the appanage could be inherited by any future children she might have. Renée’s suite had a large Breton contingent, this included her governess and confidant, Michelle de Saubonne, who had been put in charge of her household. There was also Jacqueline de Rohan as a maid of honor, while Jean de Brosse, son of the Count of Penthièvre was to be her secretary. Renée was met at the border by Charles Brandon, the Viscount of Strêye—who introduced her to the high members of her household, which included many former women and men who had served the Empress Mary. “The Princess of France is very pretty…” Anne de Croÿ wrote in a letter to her husband. “She gave the viscount a pretty speech and received his allegiance as if she had been a queen or empress for years. She will manage well—but she is not Empress Mary.” Renée formally met the emperor at Mechelen—when she bowed low to him, he raised her, before planting two kisses upon her cheek. They were wed within the chapel of Mechelen by the Bishop of Cambrai—so began the emperor’s second marriage.
Charles V also had to contend with issues within the empire—the Protestant faith had continued to grow, and his attempts to impede it throughout the 1520s had proved a complete failure. It was in 1530 that Charles issued letters for the Diet of Regensburg, for the Diet to deal with three issues: defense of the frontiers, issues relating to the currency and public wellbeing, and third being religious disagreements within Christianity. The emperor hoped to find some solution and ensure that Germany did not devolve into chaos. The calling for the Diet of Regensburg overlapped with the Pope’s decree for the opening of the Council of Bologna. This caused great unease amongst the Protestants—they flatly refused to attend any such council headed by the Pope and pressed for a general council to be held in Germany—without the Pope’s presence. Even amongst the Catholics, this idea was not viewed with total distaste—the idea of Conciliarism remained popular in some segments, where it was believed that general councils had supreme authority—even over the Pope. One German writer, writing under the pseudonym of Titus Honorius published a treatise named Sanctae Germaniae Ecclesiae in 1528 which covered the history of the church in Germany, while arguing that the Holy Roman Emperor by right held the power of Jura Regalia that had been reduced in the preceding centuries—and that the emperor could summon a General Council without the authority of the Pope. This treatise combined the thought of contemporary conciliarism with those on imperial reform—resulting in a movement that would become known as Honorianism, which sought to maintain the future of the Catholic Church in Germany while limiting papal power in favor of the emperor. Many others viewed the Council of Bologna with suspicions as well—especially with the King of France’s ardent backing and the idea that many French prelates would attend when previously the French had opposed any such council. The emperor asked that the Protestants prepare a document outlining their beliefs—in the hope that a compromise could be reached between both parties. The Diet of Regensburg was opened in July of 1530—and a few days after the opening, the Regensburg Confession was presented to the emperor. This outlined the beliefs of the Lutheran party—and had been created at the behest of the Elector of Saxony by Philip Melanchthon and Johannes Brenz, as well as Martin Luther—though Luther was not present at the diet, owing to his status as an outlaw.
It was during this time that there was a growing crisis among the marches of the empire. Though the Treaty of Longwy had secured peace between France and the empire, it did not include Bohemia or Hungary as signatories. Though John Zápolya had been forced from Bohemia, he continued to cause trouble along the borders, sending raiders into both Moravia and Austria. “So long as Zápolya does as he pleases, he causes chaos—both in my daughter’s realm and your own,” Mary of Austria wrote in a terse letter to her brother. “If Hungary acts against us, and not with us—it is no better than having the Turks upon our doorstep.” Zápolya’s reign had seen him use his vast private wealth and the support of the lower nobility to increase the power of the crown—to the chagrin of the great magnates, who feared the resurgence of a powerful crown. The Treaty of Longwy had seen French support dwindle; François no longer paid the Hungarian king’s pension and had recalled the artillerymen he had dispatched, too. Poland too, could not offer Zápolya much support, with the King of Poland licking his wounds in the aftermath of his loss in Germany, and the Sejm in little mood to condone yet another foreign adventure. The Ottoman scourge remained a threat—and in 1530 Suleiman demanded tribute from the King of Hungary. The Ottoman emissary, Malkoç Bey demanded a sum of 200,000 florins—with another 30,000 years to be paid yearly, with Zápolya to recognize Suleiman as his father and suzerain. “The choice is yours,” Malkoç stated boldly to Zápolya in a private audience. “You and your kingdom may live under the largesse of Sultan Suleiman, Sultan of Sultans, and Khan of Khans—or you may die by his sword and be trampled underneath his boot.” Malkoç Bey’s demands were odious—but not without advantages. The Bey promised that the Ottoman Sultan would provide the King of Hungary as his loyal ally with whatever troops, supplies, and munitions he might need to deal with the Habsburgs.
Duel before the Battle of Bár.
“The Franks have failed you,” Malkoç supposedly whispered to Zápolya in another meeting—pouring poisons into his ear like the sweetest honey. “You must look to us for your salvation and victory—or else your demise and defeat.” John Zápolya was utterly anguished over the decision—200,000 florins was money he did not have; despite his troubles with the Queen Dowager of Hungary, his sincerest wish had been an alliance with the Habsburgs to deal with the Ottomans and their threat to Europe. If the emperor and his sister should be too blind to work with him because of their shortsightedness, then they must forever be his enemies—and the Turks must be his new friends. Zápolya agreed to Malkoç Bey’s demands after several days of consideration, in grave secrecy. “The king made a show before all the court of dismissing Malkoç in great anger,” Pavle Bakic wrote in his private diaries. “But in truth, it was a farce—Malkoç’s baggage train was loaded down with wealth as he left—with the promise of more.” Zápolya then summoned the Hungarian diet to raise funds for the tribute—but under the guise of raising funds for the army. With the support of the lower gentry, Zápolya levied a fresh round of taxes primarily upon the magnates. This new program of taxation caused alarm among the magnates—most especially the small circle that remained who championed the claims of Elizabeth Jagiellonica, Queen of Bohemia and daughter and heir of Louis II. A group of magnates met at Sopron, where a rival diet called the Diet of Sopron was held. They signed a deed declaring their support for Elizabeth as Queen of Hungary—and naming John Zápolya as a usurper. Once more Hungary was threatened with the possibility of chaos.
The Diet of Regensburg ultimately adjourned without finding a solution. The Protestants remained adamant that there were certain issues that they could not compromise upon—and their faith continued to grow and spread throughout the empire. Though the Council of Bologna opened in 1531, its attendance was primarily limited to Italian and French prelates. Pius V endured opposition from the Cardinals and the Curia for summoning the council—and the antipathy of the emperor to the council was well known, resulting in low attendance from the German prelates. Spanish prelates boycotted the assembly with the support of Prince Ferdinand, who believed any council within Italy would remain under the thumb of the French—especially he learned that French troops from the Armée d’Italie would serve as protection for the council while it was in Bologna. English clergy showed little interest in attending as well. “We have grave concerns of the outcome of this council—and fear that the French may press you into a course that will undermine our Holy Church,” Prince Ferdinand wrote in a private letter to Pius V. “We ask only that you consider holding the next sessions of the council outside the confines of Italy…” The Doge of Venice offered up Verona as an alternative location, while the burghers of Lucerne offered to host the council in Switzerland. Pius V answered that he would consider all possibilities carefully—but that the Council of Bologna would remain open and begin its work regardless—and that all were welcome to attend.
Martin Luther and the Wittenberg Reformers.
Troubles in Germany amongst the Protestant princes continued; Philip of Hesse and John, the Elector of Saxony met at Mühlhausen in Thuringia. Both had been disappointed with the collapse of the League of Zwickau, and the two princes negotiated the creation of a new religious league, the League of Mühlhausen. Compared to Zwickau, the League of Mühlhausen was organized as a defensive religious alliance, with its members pledging to defend each other if their territories were attacked by Emperor Charles V. The Elector of Saxony was intent to mold the new alliance into a religious alliance—it was stipulated that any potential member states had to adhere to either the Lutheran Regensburg Confession or the Pentapolitan Confession, better known as the Swabian Confession, which had been presented to the emperor at Regensburg by the southern German cities of Konstanz, Lindau, Memmingen, Strasbourg, and Tübingen. The formation of yet another Protestant league within the confines of the empire-especially one aimed at the emperor himself caused Charles V great unease. “With each moment, the Protestants grow bolder—and they slip further away from our church.” A Papal diplomat in Germany wrote back to Pope Pius V. “How can our differences be resolved when what divides us grows deeper by the day?” Pius V attempted in aim to induce both German prelates to attend the Council of Bologna—as well as Protestants, with Pius V even sending a Papal Nuncio, Pier Paolo Vergerio to Wittenburg to negotiate with Martin Luther personally—an idea that would have been an anathema to the Popes nearly a decade before. “I do not quarrel with Vergerio,” Luther wrote to his wife, Katharina von Bora. “But in this, we cannot be swayed. A council in Italy, headed by the Pope and his lackeys would only do damage to our cause. If a council must be held, let it be held here in Germany—let the Catholics decide as they must, but us Protestants must have our due—official recognition of our creed.”
The first sessions of the Council of Bologna in the spring of 1531 accomplished little—despite the King of France’s newfound strength in Italy, there remained great division within the Papal curia regarding holding such a council; reformists thought it a useless course to consider without Protestant attendance, while conservatives believed it to be mere pandering. The issue of French influence over the council hung heavy as well, with squabbles between the Italian and French prelates taking precedence over religious, doctrinal, or theological discussions. The Papal treasury also remained in a desperate situation—the payment of indemnities to the French had placed papal finances into such a dire strait that the Pope was in little position to fund such an endeavor. “His Holiness is reduced to beggaring himself for this council,” Cardinal Pucci, a member of the curia wrote scathingly. “He begs for scraps from the tables of the King of France while holding his hand out for alms for the King of Naples…neither which show little interest in aiding him. King François has no true desire for this council… he merely wishes to be in control of it.” Financial difficulties ultimately forced the closure of the council at Bologna in October of 1531. Pius V reached an agreement with the Republic of Venice for the council to be moved to Verona—but participation plummeted even further and would remain poor. In 1533, the council would be shuttered completely—without completing its task.
Meanwhile, the chaos in Hungary continued. The magnates at the Diet of Sopron were encouraged in their rebellion by Mary of Austria—she provided aid to the rebels surreptitiously—through both her Bohemian privy purse and from Austrian revenues allocated to her by her position as Governor of Austria. Hungary’s army remained in a precarious condition, with John Zápolya’s private troops providing the backbone of the new royal force, with his own private wealth going to fund it. He relied heavily upon irregular troops, who carried out the raids across the borders into Bohemia and Austria. The magnate’s army clashed with royal troops near Györ and succeeded in occupying the city—burnishing the cause of the rebels. When news reached Zápolya in Buda, he ordered the raising of further levies from his private estates to fortify the areas to the capital. Petrus de Monte Libano, a Maronite friar who had served Louis II as a diplomat in Persia was dispatched to Constantinople. Petrus was ordered not only to remit the remaining tribute that was owed—but was given a sealed letter to be directed into the hands of the Sultan. In it, Zápolya requested the sultan’s aid in dealing with the Habsburgs.
Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, c. 1538.
Suleiman the Magnificent received the Hungarian envoy with pleasantries at Topkapi Palace. Aside from the Sultan, his Grand Vizier, Pargali Ibrahim Pasha was present, as was the Greek Patriarch, Jeremiah. From behind a screen, the Sultan’s premier concubine watched—a maiden from Ruthenia known as Hürrem, while Venetian diplomats called her Roxelana—maiden from Ruthenia. “Petrus was received in the second courtyard—with the Sultan seated upon his gilded throne,” an anonymous participant of the Hungarian mission wrote. “The palace dwarfed anything that could be found in Hungary… peacocks roamed about the courtyard along with gazelle… and the meanest courtier was dressed more extravagantly than the richest magnate… this great palace, built upon the grounds of the vanquished corpse of Rome—it was here that Hungary’s destiny seemed to lie.” When the Sultan received the request of John Zápolya of Hungary, his declaration before his court was bolder than anything they had ever heard in the past: “I am the shadow of Allah on this Earth—Sultan of Sultans, Khan of Khans… I am the Lord of the Universe; kingdoms have crumbled to dust before my ancestors—and I shall do the same. Let Europe tremble before my blade: Vienna shall molder; Prague shall rot. The crescent will hang over Aachen, and I shall dine in the hall of false kings and prophets, and our son in Hungary shall reign supreme.” All the court was in awe—including the Hungarian diplomats, who soon realized what they had been asked to do. They had not merely come bearing money—they had given the Ottomans an open invitation to ravage further into Europe, with their king’s full approval.
By the spring of 1532, Suleiman mustered an army in Bulgaria of 120,000 men. Aside from the elite Siphai and Janissaries, the army incorporated troops from Moldavia and Wallachia. Sultan Suleiman himself took supreme command of the forces with the Grand Vizier, Pargali Pasha named Serasker—a position that gave the Grand Vizier the power to give orders in the sultan’s name. The weather was fair and allowed the Ottoman army to arrive in Hungarian territory in the summer—one of the hottest, which caused issues amongst horses in the baggage train—though not the camels. John Zápolya met Suleiman near the village of Bár where Louis II had been slain almost six years before, to the day. Zápolya and Suleiman toured the battlefield—and Zápolya soon added his forces to the Ottoman army, which included some 12,000 cavalrymen. The Sultan was given a magnificent entry into Buda—with his army camped outside the city walls. “Overnight, a city sprung up outside of Buda,” one unnerved burgher wrote to a friend. “Foreign smells, foreign people—a slice of Arabia in the middle of Hungary.” John Zápolya hosted Suleiman at Buda Castle, where he was treated to grand entertainments—they were entertainments that Zápolya could seldom afford, but he knew that they must be given. Sultan Suleiman was also introduced to Queen Anne—one of the first recorded meetings between an Ottoman Sultan and a foreign consort. “Gracious queen—all that you and your husband desire shall soon be yours,” Suleiman was reported to have said upon their meeting.
The march into Hungary had thrown Europe into chaos—and mayhem reigned along the border that Hungary shared with the Holy Roman Empire. When news spread of Suleiman’s reception at Buda, Mary was one of the first to write to Charles V. “The Turks are preparing for another campaign—they do not seek to vanquish Hungary… it is already theirs. What they seek is what is rightfully ours.” Charles V ordered Landsknechts dispatched to the Austrian frontier—while Prince Ferdinand sent a contingent of 1000 harquebusiers. Mary too did her part—bargaining with the Bohemian Diet for funding to reinforce fortresses along the Bohemian border—while dispatching 800 men under Ulrich of Hardegg, the hereditary Cupbearer of Austria who held the County of Glatz in Bohemia. The Imperial Diet was held in September of 1532—as Turkish troops bore down on holdings held by the Sopronist rebels within Hungary. The Diet was held at Trier—where the possible Turkish invasion was the primary subject—yet religious troubles also dominated the discussion, as the Mühlhausen League’s influence continued to grow. The Diet of Trier was also the first diet that Empress Renée attended—and the first showing of her possible religious tendencies. She met with Philipp Melanchthon and Justus Jonas, as well as Martin Bucer and Wolfgang Capito. The Protestants of the Diet were firm in their demands—they still had no interest in attending the council headed by the Papacy and pointed to the hypocrisy of the Catholic party—they resisted a general council held in Germany while refusing resolutely to attend the Council of Bologna—or Council of Verona, as it now was known. The proceeding years had seen significant growth of the Honorian party among the Catholics, who firmly believed that the emperor held the right to call such a proceeding. “The emperor was held in a vice between the vying the parties—the Honorians wished for the emperor to call a general council; the Protestants remained open to attending such a council, without papal interference…” one attendee to the Diet of Trier wrote in a letter. “…which a council summoned by the emperor would ensure. There remained a large segment of Catholics who believed such an idea tantamount to blasphemy… but the emperor was in desperate straits; the Turks would maraud Germany in due course… he knew that he would need to work with the Protestants, and not against them. The emperor had always been devout—and though he certainly had not been swayed by the ideas of Honorian, he was not averse to any idea that promised him more authority. More than that, he truly wished to bridge the divide between the Protestants and Catholics… if it took him summoning a council, was that not a worthy cause?” Charles V was finally pressed into agreeing to the demands put before him—in exchange for the support of the imperial army and the princes, he agreed that a council—which he termed a synod—should be summoned to discuss the religious issues plaguing the empire. While the Council of Verona devolved into further bickering, Charles V announced that the Synod of Trier would open in April of 1533; those who supported the reformation were given religious liberty[1] until the meeting of the synod, while all matters of religion placed before the imperial court were paused as well. A final article lifted Martin Luther’s outlaw status and granted him free passage to the synod should he wish to attend.
[1] In effect, like the Nuremburg Religious Peace of 1532.
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Very interesting update!