Chapter 42. The Imperial Division
1549-1555; Germany & Spain.
“The wonderful inheritance of these provinces which passed into my hands
nearly forty years ago have been well governed by you for nearly twenty.
I now pass them unto you as agreed upon… know that no prince has
ever had as fine a brother as I ever had in your person.”
— Charles V’s Deathbed Testament, 1555.
Musical Accompaniment: Circumdederunt me Gemitus Mortis
Portrait of Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, c. 1548.
The defeat of the Protestant rebels in 1548 had placed Charles V at his most remarkable epoch. Not only had he sufficiently cowed the Protestant party and pressed for their inclusion into a general council, but he also succeeded in the dreams long harbored by his Burgundian ancestors. The imperial dominions of the Low Countries had been reorganized as the Kingdom of Burgundy. Burgundy was granted electoral status, while imperial authority in northern and central Germany had been reestablished after decades of reduction.
“The early years of Charles V are often remembered for their disasters,” one historian wrote in his biography of the emperor.
“The Spanish revolts, the Battle of Lodi, loss of Naples… all are remembered as low points of his reign—and the emperor is poorly regarded in most Spanish historiography as a monarch who ignored them for the pursuits of an empire. Despite these losses, the 1540s represented the high point of the emperor’s reign through his reforms within the Holy Roman Empire—rendering him better regarded among German and Italian historians.” The Diet of Augsburg closed in 1548 without issues—it would be followed in 1549 by the Diet of Frankfurt, where Charles’ son and heir, Maximilian of Bohemia, was formally elected as
King of the Romans. This recognized Maximilian formally as his father’s successor—and would allow him to succeed as Holy Roman Emperor upon his father’s demise.
In the summer of 1549, Charles returned to the Low Countries—accompanied by his son and his daughter-in-law. Maximilian had appointed Jan IV Popel as Bohemia’s Supreme Burgrave to serve as Bohemia’s viceroy and governor in his (and the queen’s) absence.
“His Majesty reached Brussels in July 1549,” one burgher wrote in a letter to his family.
“Accompanied by the King and Queen of the Romans, the emperor’s heir was granted a Joyous Entry into the capital… they proceeded to the Palace of Coudenburg, where the emperor had assembled the notables of Burgundy. Before them all, he declared that his son would be recognized as the Archduke of Brabant as heir to the Kingdom of Burgundy—among his more numerous (and prestigious) titles.” Though the
Reformatio Imperii, Charles V had used the
Privilegium Maius to name his children as Princes of Burgundy—but had also ensured that the heir to the kingdom would bear the title of Archduke of Brabant. Though the emperor was happily received in Brussels, one thorny issue remained unresolved—that of Empress Renée, still in exile at the
Hof van York in Mechelen.
“Empress Renée endured two difficult years in purgatory following the discovery of her Protestant faith,” one of Renée’s biographers wrote.
“Held incommunicado at the Hof van York, she was kept under scrutiny and forced to attend Catholic masses. During the emperor’s time abroad, she was regularly visited by Inquisitor Tapper, who encouraged her to recant.” Renée remained stubbornly defiant, declaring to Tapper:
“Here is where I stand, and where I shall always stand; I am as steadfast in my beliefs as you believe in yours.” Despite her bold declaration, matters would soon reach a crescendo.
Upon Charles’ return to Brussels, many within his council pressed him to deal with the matter of the empress, which had now become a festering wound. Some, such as Perrenot, argued that a formal complaint should be lodged before the Inquisition, allowing Renée to be charged and to let the emperor escape a marriage that had become odious to him. Others, such as Viglius van Ayatta and even his son Maximilian, argued that the emperor should practice leniency by seeking the empresses’ recantation without an ecclesiastical trial. Maximilian especially feared that any formal trial would only embolden the Protestant Party, who had, after all, been granted limited liberties before the general council could be convened. It was a complicated matter that split the council, though all of them agreed that issues could not continue as they had in the previous two years.
“Empress Renée’s imprisonment is the scandal of Europe and the Christendom,” Prince Arianitto Comène stated in an address to the council.
“All know of her imprisonment and the reasons, yet our ambassadors are asked for answers they cannot provide daily. We have dithered for too long, and a conclusion must be reached. His Majesty is seen as a monster, a brute, a fool—and worse, a man who cannot control his wife or household. We must regain the initiative and show the emperor is in full control of the situation, or else we lose all we have worked towards.” The matter worried Charles greatly—he poured his worries and frustrations into a letter to his brother, Ferdinand:
“This matter has weighed daily upon my head. I know it must be dealt with—and my waiting has not helped matters. Were she any other heretic, she would be dealt with as she ought to be. But this one is not any other—she is my lady wife and my empress.”
Renée of France, Holy Roman Empress; Woodcut c. 1570s.
Ferdinand encouraged his brother to trust his faith:
“You know within your heart of hearts, with God’s grace, what you must do. Trust in Christ, for he never gives us unnecessary burdens; all handed to us is given to overcome. Yes, she is your lady wife—but she has erred in the teachings of our Holy Church and has embraced the filth of Calvin and Luther. Allow the Inquisition to do its work, for all are equal before God… empress. Trust that God shall bring about the right resolution. Should you waver, think only of our august grandmother, Isabella of Castile—all she has done for our faith has fallen to us as her successors. We cannot err now—you must judge Renée as Isabella once judged Boabdil and his ilk.” In early 1550, Charles formally lodged an accusation against Renée with the Inquisition. Though Inquisitor Ruard Tapper had previously led the investigation against the empress, his methods were judged too soft. One letter from Charles to the Roman Curia said only:
“Ensure that Her Majesty is seen by Inquisitor Titelmans, not Tapper.” Compared to Tapper, who believed in spiritual solutions, Pieter Titelmans was a notorious inquisitor previously active in Flanders who considered rooting out heresy his top priority. In March 1550, Renée was arrested by Titelmans at the
Hof van York in Mechelen.
Titelmans ordered Renée transferred to Gravensteen, where she was imprisoned within the citadel. Titelmans conducted his first interrogation of the empress there sometime in April 1550. He wasted no time writing to the emperor:
“Your Majesty—it is with great sorrow that I must announce that the empress is a most notorious heretic. By this crime, she has not only forfeited all her possessions but your affection as well.” Renée had endured two years of danger since the discovery of her faith, and though she had not seen her children in all that time, it was Titelmans mocking jape that the empress would never see her children again that caused her to falter.
“I collapsed to the ground,” Renée would later write in her private journals—many years later.
“Two years of purgatory, danger, and fear had greatly weakened my resolve… made only worse when I was transferred to Gravensteen. I feared that I might die, and as much as I might have welcomed it, there remained a small speck within me that desired to live. My faith had been tested beyond all manner of things; when the awful inquisitor proclaimed that I would never see my children again, I could not help but cry out: ‘Do not allow me to be parted from my children any longer than I have been already monsieur!’ He said only what he had said from the beginning—that I must recant and accept the error of my ways… and so I did. On condition of being reunited with my children, I signed my confession and admitted my errors… all the while, within my mind and my heart, God spoke and urged me forward. Survive, he told me—survive, and all shall be well in five years. Five years of submission seemed but a small price to pay, so I closed my heart and mind to all that I knew and believed to be true. I allowed God, and only God, to guide me in the next six years going forward.”
Renée formally signed her confession in May 1550, returning (at least nominally) to the Catholic Church. While Renée would never again attend mass, her position was restored. Though Charles was pleased to put the matter behind him, the situation had completely altered the relationship that had hereto existed between the emperor and empress.
“I am most glad that you have seen the error of your ways, madam,” Charles wrote in a terse letter to Renée, dated from May 1550.
“But it cannot change that I have seen a piece of you that I wish had never seen. Your mischief has caused great trouble and pain—not only to me but to our children. Though you have recanted, I must be frank that my views have not changed: I continue to desire that you should live apart from me, and I am pleased to allow you to retain the Hof van York for your personal use. As for the children—I shall allow you to have custody of Adélaïde and Jean.” While Renée’s recantation could not fix that which had already been shattered, she was able to escape with her neck intact. For Renée’s children with the emperor, the situation was complicated. Her eldest daughter,
Anne (b. 1533), was a staunch Catholic who had been hastily wed to Theodor of Bavaria in 1548—she expressed no desire to speak or have contact with her mother, and Anne would never reconcile with her mother. Renée’s eldest son,
Charles (b. 1535), had been ripped from her household and placed into the care of Cardinal Waldburg, the Prince-Bishop of Augsburg, who was already grooming the young prince for a clerical career. Likewise,
Michèle (b. 1538), Renée’s youngest daughter with the emperor, had been placed into a convent—and out of her reach. This left only
Adélaîde and
Jean—Charles agreeing that rejoining their mother’s household was a small price to have peace within his dominions and to ensure the Protestants had no cannon fodder to use against him in this delicate time. Nevertheless, all knew that eyes were sat upon the
Hof van York, and both children retained their Catholic tutors, and Catholic religious services were regularly held, which they attended.
With the election of Adrian VI in 1550, Charles V’s concerns in the later portion of his reign would center around bringing the general council promised by Gelasius III to fruition. Initially opened in Bologna in 1549, problems in 1550 saw Adrian VI shift the council to Lucerne—along with the appointment of fresh legates who would oversee the council. Though Charles had aided in Adrian’s election, this did not mean that some concerns lingered among certain prelates and theologians attached to the imperial court.
“Cardinal Carafa spewed his venom far and wide across Europe, seeking an audience to all who might listen,” one theologian attached to the imperial court at Brussels wrote.
“While some saw him as a man who had been humbled, others perhaps saw half-truths amid his lies: certainly, there were concerns around the pope’s intentions at Lucerne—matters made little better by his first cardinal appointments and his legatine appointments.” Charles, at least, was prepared to trust the man he had helped elect—the emperor seeing Adrian VI as the only man perhaps capable of reunifying the splintered Christendom. While the Protestants remained wary of the church’s intentions, they had little choice following their military defeat. Charles allowed the Protestants relative freedom in assembling a delegation to Lucerne; he asked that the Elector Palatine and his son, the King of Romans, oversee the task, while final confirmation would be in his aegis. The Protestant delegation from Germany would include notable theologians such as Philipp Melanchthon, Johann Brenz, and Nicolaus von Amsdorf, among others.
Portrait of a member of the Cröy Family (Believed to be the Bishop of Cambrai), c. 1548.
Charles also assembled a Catholic delegation to represent his interests at Lucerne. Headed by Robert de Croÿ, the Bishop of Tournai, the Catholic deputation would include notable prelates such as Julius von Pflug, the Bishop of Naumburg, alongside the Archbishops of Cologne, Mainz, and Trier. This also included notable Catholic theologians: in the suite of the Bishop of Tournai was a fiery Dutch Jesuit known as
Cornelius Becanus, alongside men such as Johann Gropper and Franciscus Sonnius.
“His Majesty wasted no expense on his delegation to the council in Lucerne,” one chronicle of Charles’ court stated.
“He ordered that they should have the freshest and fastest horses available in their travels through the empire to Lucerne and arranged for his delegation to have a monthly subsidy to cover costs for lodging, food, and other expenses while staying in Lucerne.” Such generosity did not extend to the Protestant delegation—they were instead forced to raise funds from among the Protestant princes—the Saxon Estates alone agreed to provide some 6000 thalers to cover the delegation’s expenses despite protests from the newly entrenched elector Severin, who was a staunch Roman Catholic.
“Who can truly say how these matters may turn out?” one member of Melanchthon’s suite wrote in a letter to his brother.
“While the emperor prepares a most generous dowry for his Catholic envoys, we beg for crumbs. Shall we even be able to reach Leipzig, let alone Lucerne?” The King of Romans alleviated troubles among the Protestant delegation by asking that the Bohemian Diet extend funding, with a Hussite delegation to attend with the Protestants.
Despite Charles’ generosity, he was forced to confront his financial issues. By 1550, the emperor’s debts totaled 18 million ducats—mainly incurred from the numerous wars fought during his reign and owed primarily to German banking houses such as the Fuggers and Weslers. The 1530s saw a severance of the imperial administration from that of Spain. As Ferdinand took further control over the Spanish kingdoms, Charles’ own administration became increasingly Burgundian, with its outlook focused on the Low Countries and the empire. By the end of his reign, Charles received no financial support from the Spanish dominions he was nominally king of. He was supported wholly by the revenues of his hereditary dominions and what he received from the empire.
“By 1550, the imperial treasury was in a fractious state,” one financial historian wrote.
“Charles V borrowed enormous amounts from the German bankers who allowed him to do so because of his political situation… it was not uncommon for the emperor to defer payments rather than pay them back; he utilized short-term agreements where he leveraged future revenues and more long-term agreements. By the end of his reign, he had borrowed 29 million ducats from German banking houses… interest alone caused the total amount owed to swell to 38 million.” In some cases, Charles leveraged his outstanding debts to pay off more urgent debts. In 1553, Charles made his final £50,000 payment to England, which allowed him to redeem both Dunkirk and Gravelines—a payment made possible by Charles leasing out four years of Antwerp’s customs duties to the Brussels Branch of the
Cromwell Company, an English trading syndicate whose influence had begun to grow throughout the 1550s. This allowed Charles to clear his debts to his English cousin, dating back nearly forty years.
Maximilian and Elisabeth settled in the Low Countries following his crowning as King of the Romans. Maximilian’s marriage to Elisabeth had also proved quite fruitful. By 1555, Maximilian had five living children—
Marie (b. 1545),
Philippe (b. 1550),
Marguerite (b. 1551),
Frédéric (b. 1553) and
Catherine (b. 1554). Charles offered Maximilian and his growing family use of Coudenburg Palace, but by the mid-1550s, Maximilian desired to have his own seat as King of the Romans and Archduke of Brabant. The Estates General proved eager to aid Maximilian in these endeavors and provided funding for the building of a
Hôtel Particulier in the Sablon district of Brussels, which would become known as the
Hôtel de Saint-André, but more commonly known as the
Hôtel de l’Archiduc. Aside from this, Maximilian also began the construction of a palace of his own on the outskirts of Brussels known as the
Palais de Ixelles. The palace at Ixelles, a blend of Flemish, Italian, and German Mannerist architecture, was commonly known as the
Palais Romains in honor of the King of the Romans, who played a hand in laying its first stones.
The Antwerp Bourse, built in 1531.
Despite imperial financial issues, the Low Countries remained economically prosperous—a land of commerce and merchants that provided the bulk of imperial revenues. By the 1550s, Dutch merchants traded throughout Scandinavia and the Baltic, competing against Hanseatic merchants. Great wealth poured into the ports of the Low Countries—it included not only the grains and furs carried into port by Dutch merchants and sailors but also the exotic goods that flowed into the Low Countries through the Portuguese Feitoria in Antwerp—silk, spices, and the glories of East Asia. The Antwerp Bourse opened in 1531 as the world’s first commodities exchange and also served as a critical entrepot of foreign trade in the Low Countries, where merchants across Europe sold and traded goods. Imperial taxes were levied upon such trades, which also helped to restore coffers that had long been impoverished. Other occupations throughout the Low Countries were still strictly regulated through the long-existent guild system, and guilds existed for various groups, from tailors and bakers to even artists and sculptors.
Charles had begun to suffer from ill health starting in the 1540s. In 1544, Charles suffered an injury to his leg at Châtillion-sur-Marne 1544 that would cause him issues for the remainder of his life. Following the
Bruderkrieg and the emperor’s retirement to the Low Countries in 1549, he seldom traveled far beyond Brussels—and when he did, it was often by carriage or a sedan chair. The emperor’s health issues were further complicated by gout. Though the emperor had suffered such attacks as early as 1528, they became more frequent as he became older and primarily attacked his hands, legs, and shoulder.
“Summoned by His Majesty last night, as well as this morning and afternoon,” Cornelius van Baersdorp, personal physician to the emperor, wrote in his diary.
“He has suffered most terribly from this latest attack, made no better by his preferences for great feasts… despite my remonstrances, he continues to indulge himself in repasts of game, pastries, and wines and shows no interest in altering his diet… instead I have prescribed him a drachm of rhubarb, mushroom, and cassia and a poultice of lavender, valerian, and watermint.” Charles was not the best patient for a doctor to have—aside from often disobeying his doctor’s orders, he frequently sought quick fixes. Despite having the best medical care available, Charles would give an eager ear to any quack or charlatan who promised a quick recovery using panaceas, often exotic remedies brought to Europe from America and Asia. In one situation, Charles attempted to use the
guaiac bark from a West Indian tree to treat his gout; in another, he pressed for using China root over traditional remedies.
Death of Charles V, 19th Century Historical Painting.
Charles’ health declined drastically throughout the early 1550s, primarily due to his refusal to adhere to medical advice. Aside from gout, he became increasingly inflicted with neuralgia in his extremities. Doctors also noted a persistent sweet odor within the emperor’s urine—something which today might be recognized as a possible symptom of diabetes. In the summer of 1554, the emperor suffered a mild stroke; he was rendered bedridden for several months but could resume his state duties by the winter.
“We continue to remonstrate with His Majesty to be more mindful of matters,” van Baersdorp noted in another entry.
“Even the King of Romans has been asked to intercede, to no avail. The emperor continues to suffer from increasingly painful attacks of gout, and my remedies are increasingly ineffective… I have given him yet more concoctions, but I have also advised him of the reality of his situation.” By the beginning of 1555, the emperor’s health had not improved and continued to decline. Maximilian and Elisabeth had formally moved into the Coudenburg Palace to provide solace to the ailing emperor. Even Renée begged to see the emperor again in 1555—he finally agreed to meet her in April, shortly around their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.
“His Majesty was but a shell of his former self,” Renée wrote in her diary years later.
“At this juncture, I had not seen him in nearly seven years. I did not ask for his absolution—merely to provide his blessing to his children, who remained in my care—Adélaïde and Jean. This he readily provided… I stayed with him for some two hours, during which we discussed the recent death of his mother, Joanna, and reminisced over our earliest years together. I must admit that the meeting was sorrowful, and I shed tears on his behalf….” Charles begged Renée to continue to love their children—those in her care and those without—and to provide any guidance to Maximilian as future emperor. When Renée departed Brussels in late April 1555, Maximilian gave her permission for the empress and her children to take up residence at the Château of Corroy near Gembloux rather than returning to Mechelen. Up until the end, the emperor daily begged for news from Lucerne—where news regarding the possible reunification of the Catholic Christendom had become increasingly bleak.
Charles clung to life throughout the first weeks of May before expiring on June 5, 1555. Upon his death, the emperor’s will and testament was read out before the court at Coudenburg:
“As a young man, I stood for the candidacy of the imperial crown… not to increase my possessions, but to engage myself vigorously in procuring the welfare not only of Germany but of my other realms and dominions, in hopes of bringing peace to the Christendom and unifying our cause against the Ottoman Turks. I admit that I was too bogged down in pursuing glory against the King of France… against my enemies, I accomplished what I could. Still, success in war lies only in the hands of God, and though he has seen fit to have granted me victory in my old age, such victories were denied to me in my youth. I confess that I have not been an altogether perfect sovereign—in Spain, I know my name will likely be covered in ignominy for my youthful errors—only through the good work of my brother was my throne in that land saved and secured and that is why he shall succeed me there, as I agreed so many years before. I can only hope my reign has been more successful here in the Low Countries and in Germany. It is with great regret that I pass beyond the veil without knowing what we have wrought, but I hope that I shall leave behind dominions secure and more prosperous than they were when I inherited them. I beg all present that hear my words to know that I strived only to be a sovereign who would be well remembered and well beloved by his subjects—know that my errors and mistakes are my own and were made unknowingly and not out of malice. I leave behind my dominions in the Low Countries, the Kingdom of Burgundy, to my eldest son, Maximilian—King of the Romans and King of Bohemia. I beseech the electors to duly elect him as your emperor and hope he shall serve you better than I have. I remonstrate with my son… be mindful of your subjects, work only for their welfare, peace, and prosperity. If you must learn from my mistakes, I beg that you live peacefully amongst your neighbors and make war less than I had. I ask also that you be thriftier with your finances; do not seek to emulate me through great debt.”
