Posts Tagged ‘Charles V’

A Birthday Card for the Man Who Has Everything

Posted in General, On This Day on February 24th, 2010 by Eugene Finerman – Be the first to comment

February 24, 1500:  An Infant Inherits the Hapsburg Jaw and Europe

Monarchies do tend toward nepotism. Today, on the birthday of Charles V, I would hate to suggest that he did not deserve to be King of Spain and Southern Italy, Grand Duke of Burgundy, Duke of Austria and Holy Roman Emperor. However, his resume consisted of a birth certificate.  At least, he had the right parents at the right time.

His story begins in late 15th century Spain with the marriage of young Phil Hapsburg to Joan, the oldest daughter and heiress of Ferdinand and Isabella. The New York Times and People would have loved covering the events, but their reporters would have been burned as part of the festivities. (All the best Spanish weddings included an auto da fe.)

Phil was quite a catch. Besides being good looking, his family’s business included Austria and the Holy Roman Empire. Furthermore, his late mother had left him all Belgium and the Netherlands. His mother-in-law died in 1504; expelling most of the doctors from Spain proved unhealthy. Joan was supposed to inherit Mom’s kingdom of Castile, but Ferdinand hated to part with it.

The young Hapsburg may have cheated on his wife but he was loyal to Joan’s fortune; he protested against his father-in-law’s usurpation of Castile and even made vague threats. Then Philip suddenly died. (You can only imagine how surprised Ferdinand was.) Joan went mad and refused to have her husband buried; she transported his casket wherever she went.

Of course, Ferdinand was willing to rule Castile in his demented daughter’s name as well as regent for his young grandson Charles, who was being raised–safely–in the Low Countries. Ferdinand died in 1516 of undeservedly natural causes, so the 16-year-old Charles inherited Aragon and Sicily and finally got to rule Castille.

In 1519, his paternal grandfather died–leaving Charles the family estate of Austria and the job opening of Holy Roman Emperor. So a teenager now ruled all of Spain and its burgeoning colonial empire, Southern Italy and Sicily, the Low Countries and Austria. He was the most powerful man in Christendom since Charlemagne; so naturally the Pope had to pick a fight with him.

Leo X could ignore Luther and a Turkish army advancing into central Europe, but he was determined to annoy the young Hapsburg. He tried to prevent Charles’ election as Holy Roman Empire, a position that had long been regarded as a Hapsburg prerogative. Then, Leo refused to coronate Charles. (He was the fifth emperor Charles.) The Pope evidently thought that a 19 year-old was unworthy of such power and responsibility. Of course, Leo had been appointed a cardinal when he was 13, and the deMedici family had been bought their kid the papacy; but the young deMedici begrudged the even younger Hapsburg.

Not feeling terribly loyal to the Papacy, Charles proved initially quite tolerant of the fulminations of Professor Luther. After all, the Church definitely needed reform; and wasn’t that Luther’s sole aim? Yes, Charles was wrong; but by 1521, the heresy had proved so popular in Northern Germany that only a civil war could crush it. Charles needed the support of the German princes of the North; he intended to conquer Italy if only to make his point to the Pope.

Leo died without having the pleasure of meeting Charles. However, Pope Clement VII (and Leo’s cousin) was persuaded by the German sack of Rome in 1527 to coronate Charles. Being a Hapsburg hostage made Clement very considerate of Charles’ feelings. When Henry VIII wanted an annulment from Catherine of Aragon, the Pope naturally asked Charles if he wished his aunt Catalina declared a whore! Charles proved reluctant, so the Pope refused Henry’s request.

Henceforth, the Popes would proved deferential to Charles V. If brute force was not sufficiently persuasive, Charles was also contributing a tithe of the Aztec and Inca generosity to the Church. Although personally pious–especially as he got older, Charles was not a religious bigot. Yes, Spain burned anyone who showed a suspicious reluctance to pork but through the rest of his realm he proved ecumenical. He reached a political detente with the Lutherans of Germany; after the Turks had conquered Hungary and had cavalry patrols around Vienna, the Emperor really couldn’t afford to quibble over transubstantiation versus consubstantiation. And since the Dutch wanted to make money rather than trouble, Charles could turn a blind eye to Calvinism.

Charles abdicated all his thrones in 1557 and retired to a monastery where he died the following year. His younger brother Ferdinand inherited Austria and the imperial title. Charles’ son Philip received Spain and the Low Countries but none of his father’s prudence.

So, aside from bad taste in children, Charles V really did a pretty good job. Happy birthday.

A Fool and His Empire

Posted in General, On This Day on August 28th, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – Be the first to comment

August 28th On this day in 1619: Ferdinand Hapsburg Gets the Family Job

Charles V (1500-1558) was no fool.  Being King of Spain, Duke of the Low Countries, Holy Roman Emperor, and landlord of Italy obviously had its perks, but the job did come with enemies.  Occupying Hungary in the east and the Balkans in the South, the armies of the Ottoman Empire were nerve-wracking neighbors.  And France seemed always ready for another defeat.  So Charles really did not need the distraction and devastation of a civil war in Germany.  The Emperor never had difficulty ignoring Popes, so he disregarded the fulminating demands to eradicate Protestantism in Northern Europe.  Charles knew that the task was probably impossible and the cost certainly inconceivable.

Yes, when the Protestants princes forgot their deference to their Catholic Emperor, Charles could wage a humbling tutorial.  A recalcitrant Prince of Saxony found himself reduced to a country squire.  But Charles was not prepared to destroy northern Germany simply to reinstate bishoprics there.  Indeed,  in one of the last acts of his reign, Charles consented to the Treaty of Augsburg (1554) which guaranteed the status quo within Germany.   “Cuius regio, eius religio”:  the faith of the sovereign would be the official religion of his realm.  So Northern Germany was conceded as being irretrievably Protestant.

If the Princes of Germany were granted religious freedom, it did not necessarily mean that their subjects would have the same right.  The Catholic in Prussia and the Lutheran in Bavaria were wise to maintain a low profile on Sundays.  But most of the princes did not interpret the Treaty as their right to persecute alternative views of communion.  On the contrary, in the second half of the 16th century, an ecumenical peace prevailed throughout Germany.  This was while Catholics and Protestants were slaughtering each other in France and the Low Countries.

As I said, “most” princes; of course, there was one notable exception:  Ferdinand Hapsburg (1578-1637).  Unfortunately, he was more that just the terror of his archdiocese.  Ferdinand was the heir to Austria, Hungary, Bohemia and the Holy Roman Empire.  When all of 18, Ferdinand was entrusted with the rule of most 0f Austria.  Although Austria was predominantly Catholic, it was not homogenously so.  Ferdinand undertook to correct that, subjecting Protestants to the confiscation of their property and banishment.  (Well, he was named for his great-great-grandfather in Spain–although that involved a different minority group.)  Depending on your theology, Ferdinand’s policies were either acclaimed or condemned.  The Emperor Matthias did not actually approve of his cousin’s intolerance, but the laws of heredity can also be dogmatic.  Ferdinand was the indisputable heir, but it was hoped that practical responsibilities might temper the Archduke’s bigotry.  Bohemia was a Protestant enclave within the Hapsburg realm; assigning it to Ferdinand might prove an edifying experience.  After all, it is hard to persecute a majority.

Ferdinand was appointed King of Bohemia in 1617, and he did demonstrate some sense of tolerance by simply avoiding the province.  But he did choose Catholic administrators to rule in his place, and they evidently were not much more endearing than Ferdinand.  In 1618, a Protestant mob in Prague seized the two councilors, hurled them out a window and onto a manure pile.  What might seem a joke was in fact the beginning of a war.  The Bohemians rose against Ferdinand, declaring their independence and inviting a Protestant prince to be their king. Their defiance incited Protestant rebellions in Austria and Hungary.

On this day in 1619, Ferdinand did find a few supporters: the Catholic princes who elected him the Holy Roman Emperor.  The Catholic alliance crushed the Protestant rebellions by the end of 1620.  Alarmed by both Ferdinand’s reputation and the prospect of Hapsburg domination of Germany, the Netherlands and the northern German states formed an alliance.  Of course, the Spanish–good Catholics and Hapsburg cousins–were always happy to fight the Dutch; in fact, they had been doing so since 1568.  So, the Imperial armies concentrated on crushing Northern Germany.  The Hapsburg successes prompted the intervention of the Danes in 1625 and the Swedes in 1630 to  save their fellow Protestants.  The Swedish army was so good that it averted an almost certain Hapsburg victory.  Nonetheless, the Hapsburgs seemed to be ahead on body count, forcing Cardinal Richelieu to make a remarkable decision.  Thinking as a French statesman rather than a Prince of the Church, he had more to fear from victorious Hapsburgs than an irate God.  So in 1636 he had Catholic France intervene on the Protestant side.

Neither Richelieu nor Ferdinand would live to see the end of the war in 1648.  They both succumbed to natural causes; that cannot be said of the millions who died in the Thirty Years War.  An estimated one third of the German population was killed.  That reflected the nature of the war.  Both sides, but especially the Hapsburgs, employed armies of mercenaries whose pay was whatever they could loot. Since it is always easier to rob a corpse, the mercenaries were eager to cause those corpses.  Cities and towns in Germany were put to the sword simply to feed and pay the soldiers.

And after 30 years of slaughter, the Treaty of Westphalia largely repeated what the Treaty of Augsburg had established 94 years earlier.  The Church had gained little, although the Catholics were now the majority in Bohemia. The Protestant states had survived, and two–Sweden and Prussia– had emerged stronger from the war.   The Hapsburgs had lost, destroying any hope of creating a genuine empire in Germany, and they saw their rival France emerge as the greatest power in Europe.

The Thirty Years War was the disaster that Charles V had imagined:  an impossible cause at an inconceivable cost.   Ferdinand II was not so prescient.

The Waiting Game

Posted in General, On This Day on June 30th, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – 3 Comments

April 24, 1547.

Charlie Hapsburg redone

The Hapsburg Hipster

Charles V–Holy Roman Emperor, King of Spain, Archduke of Austria, Grand Duke of Burgundy and general landlord of Christendom–must have felt very good in 1547. Aside from his damn gout, everything was going his way.   His chronic enemy–Francis I–was preoccupied with dying of syphilis. His greatest threat–the Ottoman Empire–was pinned down in a war with the Persia. (The Turks had seized three of Persia’s western provinces, but discovered that it is easier to invade Mesopotamia than to hold it.) Yes, the Council of Trent was bugging Charles to crush the Protestant heresy–but so what! He had never been particularly fond of Popes and Cardinals; indeed, he had tolerated Luther for being less offensive than the Medici Popes. No, the Church’s most powerful parishioner would move against the Protestants only when–and if–he was ready; and Charles, having his father’s Flemish temperament rather than his Mother’s Spanish one, first had to be provoked.

But the Protestant princes of Northern Germany were flouting imperial authority. They were confiscating the Church’s property and appointing Protestants to bishoprics, defying Charles’ edicts to respect the rights and privileges of the Catholic Church. The Princes further aggravated the Emperor by forming a defensive alliance in 1531, the cacophonous named Schmalkaldic League. Charles was insulted but not endangered; so he could wait.

In fact, Charles waited 15 years; and in 1546, the timing was right. Saxony was the bastion of Protestantism. It had provided sanctuary and support to the young Professor Luther. Saxony’s prince Johan Frederick had founded the Schmalkaldic League. Now, however, Johan Frederick was threatened by the usurping designs of an ambitious cousin. And guess who Charles decided to support? Of course, the Schmalkaldic League rallied to the support of Johan Frederick and, in effect, declared war on the Emperor.

The Northern Princes may have had religion in common, but apparently little else. They were still trying to coordinate their forces when the Emperor’s much larger army descended upon them at Muhlberg in 1547. The battle was short, decisive, and not the most encouraging affirmation of the Reformation. The Schmalkaldic League proved to be as ridiculous as it sounded.  Johan Frederick of Saxony was captured, threatened with death and forced to cede his sovereignty and most of his lands to his annoying cousin.

The Protestant Princes once again were mindful of etiquette: the Emperor always takes precedence. Charles’ sovereignty was reestablished, but the Emperor sensed that his victory had limits. Any attempt to eradicate Protestantism would be prolonged, very bloody and probably impossible. (His great-great-nephews would fight a Thirty Years War to learn that.) Charles was happy with a political victory rather than a theological chimera.

Johan Frederick had to be content with his life. His cousin reigned in Saxony and that branch of the family would continue to do so until 1918. The dispossessed Prince–now a mere duke–and his descendants were reduced to ruling over a few motley towns and estates. Their little realm was known by its most prominent properties: the town of Coburg and the duchy of Gotha.

And in time, the family of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha would acquire a few more properties to alleviate the loss of Saxony. The job in Brussels helped, and the position in London is pretty prestigious.

Junk Mail of 1521

Posted in On This Day on January 3rd, 2009 by Eugene Finerman – Be the first to comment

Guess what was in Martin Luther’s junk mail on this day in 1521? It was a big envelope with the exclamation “You May Already Be a Heretic! Learn How You Can Get a Free Trip to HELL!” Yes, Martin Luther had just received his very own Excommunication.

Pope Leo X had finally noticed the loss of Northern Germany and Scandinavia, a mere three years after Luther ignited the Reformation. The Pope had been preoccupied with redecorating the Vatican. Aside from having the aesthetic standards of a De Medici, Leo had an unrequited crush on Raphael and was always finding projects to keep that attractive, personable young man around. Unfortunately, in 1520 Raphael died of syphilis (the consequences of being so attractive and personable) and the Pope lost his major distraction.

Finally, the Pope would deal with that dangerous young man who threatened the supremacy of the Church. Of course, Leo picked the wrong man. The Pope could not be bothered with Luther; Leo was not interested in theology and was not prepared to debate some ill-tempered professor over the standard of living in Purgatory. However, Leo was concerned with young Charlie Hapsburg. By the age of nineteen, Charlie had inherited most of Christendom: he was the King of Spain,Sicily and Southern Italy. And that was just on his mother’s side. Being a Hapsburg, Charles also ruled Austria, the Netherlands, Belgium and–for what it was worth in prestige–the nominal Holy Roman Empire.

The Pope tried to prevent Charles’ election as Holy Roman Emperor, a position that had long been regarded as a Hapsburg prerogative. Then, Leo refused to coronate Charles. The Pope evidently thought that a 19 year-old was unworthy of such power and responsibility. (Leo had been appointed a cardinal when he was 13, and the deMedici family had been bought their kid the papacy; but the young deMedici begrudged the even younger Hapsburg.)

By his futile and meaningless efforts, Leo had managed to offend his most powerful parishioner, the one man in Germany who was in a position to crush the nascent heresy. Not feeling terribly loyal to the Papacy, Charles proved initially quite tolerant of Luther. After all, the Church definitely needed reform; and wasn’t that Luther’s sole aim? Yes, Charles was wrong; but by 1521, the heresy had proved so popular in Northern Germany that only a civil war could crush it. Charles needed the support of the German princes of the North; he intended to conquer Italy if only to make his point to the Pope.

(Leo died without having the pleasure of meeting Charles. However, Pope Clement VII– Leo’s cousin–was persuaded by the German sack of Rome in 1527 to coronate Charles.)

So, after three years of ignoring the loss of northern Europe while alienating any support elsewhere, the Pope finally excommunicated Martin Luther. The most impact that Papal Bull might have had on Luther was a paper cut.

A Birthday Card for the Man Who Has Everything

Posted in On This Day on February 24th, 2008 by Eugene Finerman – Be the first to comment

Monarchies do tend toward nepotism. Today, on the birthday of Charles V, I would hate to suggest that he did not deserve to be King of Spain and Southern Italy, Grand Duke of Burgundy, Duke of Austria and Holy Roman Emperor. In fairness, he certainly did a better job than George Bush would have. Nevertheless, Charles’ resume consisted of a birth certificate. He certainly had the right parents at the right time.

His story begins in late 15th century Spain with the marriage of young Phil Hapsburg to Joan, the oldest daughter and heiress of Ferdinand and Isabella. The New York Times and People would have loved covering the events, but their reporters would have been burned as part of the festivities. (All the best Spanish weddings included an auto da fe.)

Phil was quite a catch. Besides being good looking, his family’s business included Austria and the Holy Roman Empire. Furthermore, his late mother had left him all Belgium and the Netherlands. His mother-in-law died in 1504; expelling most of the doctors from Spain proved unhealthy. Joan was supposed to inherit Mom’s kingdom of Castile, but Ferdinand hated to part with it.

The young Hapsburg may have cheated on his wife but he was loyal to Joan’s fortune; he protested against his father-in-law’s usurpation of Castile and even made vague threats. Then Philip suddenly died. (You can only imagine how surprised Ferdinand was.) Joan went mad and refused to have her husband buried; she transported his casket wherever she went.

Of course, Ferdinand was willing to rule Castile in his demented daughter’s name as well as regent for his young grandson Charles, who was being raised–safely–in the Low Countries. Ferdinand died in 1516 of undeservedly natural causes, so the 16-year-old Charles inherited Aragon and Sicily and finally got to rule Castille.

In 1519, his paternal grandfather died–leaving Charles the family estate of Austria and the job opening of Holy Roman Emperor. So a teenager now ruled all of Spain and its burgeoning colonial empire, Southern Italy and Sicily, the Low Countries and Austria. He was the most powerful man in Christendom since Charlemagne; so naturally the Pope had to pick a fight with him.

Leo X could ignore Luther and a Turkish army advancing into central Europe, but he was determined to annoy the young Hapsburg. He tried to prevent Charles’ election as Holy Roman Empire, a position that had long been regarded as a Hapsburg prerogative. Then, Leo refused to coronate Charles. (He was the fifth emperor Charles.) The Pope evidently thought that a 19 year-old was unworthy of such power and responsibility. Of course, Leo had been appointed a cardinal when he was 13, and the deMedici family had been bought their kid the papacy; but the young deMedici begrudged the even younger Hapsburg.

Not feeling terribly loyal to the Papacy, Charles proved initially quite tolerant of the fulminations of Professor Luther. After all, the Church definitely needed reform; and wasn’t that Luther’s sole aim? Yes, Charles was wrong; but by 1521, the heresy had proved so popular in Northern Germany that only a civil war could crush it. Charles needed the support of the German princes of the North; he intended to conquer Italy if only to make his point to the Pope.

Leo died without having the pleasure of meeting Charles. However, Pope Clement VII (and Leo’s cousin) was persuaded by the German sack of Rome in 1527 to coronate Charles. Being a Hapsburg hostage made Clement very considerate of Charles’ feelings. When Henry VIII wanted an annulment from Catherine of Aragon, the Pope naturally asked Charles if he wished his aunt Catalina declared a whore! Charles proved reluctant, so the Pope refused Henry’s request.

Henceforth, the Popes would proved deferential to Charles V. If brute force was not sufficiently persuasive, Charles was also contributing a tithe of the Aztec and Inca generosity to the Church. Although personally pious–especially as he got older, Charles was not a religious bigot. Yes, Spain burned anyone who showed a suspicious reluctance to pork but through the rest of his realm he proved ecumenical. He reached a political detente with the Lutherans of Germany; after the Turks had conquered Hungary and had cavalry patrols around Vienna, the Emperor really couldn’t afford to quibble over transubstantiation versus consubstantiation. And since the Dutch wanted to make money rather than trouble, Charles could turn a blind eye to Calvinism.

Charles abdicated all his thrones in 1557 and retired to a monastery where he died the following year. His younger brother Ferdinand inherited Austria and the imperial title. Charles’ son Philip received Spain and the Low Countries but none of his father’s prudence.

So, aside from bad taste in children, Charles V really did a pretty good job. Happy birthday.

The Waiting Game

Posted in General, On This Day on June 30th, 2007 by Eugene Finerman – Be the first to comment

In honor of the 456th birthday of  Johan Frederick, Elector of Saxony and “Champion of the Reformation”, let’s discuss the man who didn’t kill him. 

Charles V–Holy Roman Emperor, King of Spain, Archduke of Austria, Grand Duke of Burgundy and general landlord of Christendom–must have felt very good in 1547. Aside from his damn gout, everything was going his way.   His chronic enemy–Francis I–was preoccupied with dying of syphilis. His greatest threat–the Ottoman Empire–was pinned down in a war with the Persia. (The Turks had seized three of Persia’s western provinces, but discovered that it is easier to invade Mesopotamia than to hold it.) Yes, the Council of Trent was bugging Charles to crush the Protestant heresy–but so what! He had never been particularly fond of Popes and Cardinals; indeed, he had tolerated Luther for being less offensive than the Medici Popes. No, the Church’s most powerful parishioneer would move against the Protestants only when–and if–he was ready; and Charles, having his father’s Flemish temperament rather than his Mother’s Spanish one, first had to be provoked.

But the Protestant princes of Northern Germany were flouting imperial authority. They were confiscating the Church’s property and appointing Protestants to bishoprics, defying Charles’ edicts to respect the rights and privileges of the Catholic Church. The Princes further aggravated the Emperor by forming a defensive alliance in 1531, the cacophonously named Schmalkaldic League. Charles was insulted but not endangered; so he could wait.

In fact, Charles waited 15 years; and in 1546, the timing was right. Saxony was the bastion of Protestantism. It had provided sanctuary and support to the young Professor Luther. Saxony’s prince Johan Frederick (Happy Birthday) had founded the Schmalkaldic League. Now, however, Johan Frederick was threatened by the usurping designs of an ambitious cousin. And guess who Charles decided to support? Of course, the Schmalkaldic League rallied to the support of Johan Frederick and, in effect, declared war on the Emperor.

The Northern Princes may have had religion in common, but apparently little else. They were still trying to coordinate their forces when the Emperor’s much larger army descended upon them at Muhlberg in 1547. The battle was short, decisive, and not the most encouraging affirmation of the Reformation. The Schmalkaldic League proved to be as ridiculous as it sounded.  Johan Frederick of Saxony was captured, threatened with death and forced to cede his sovereignty and most of his lands to his annoying cousin.

The Protestant Princes once again were mindful of etiquette: the Emperor always takes precedence. Charles’ sovereignty was reestablished, but the Emperor sensed that his victory had limits. Any attempt to eradicate Protestantism would be prolonged, very bloody and probably impossible. (His great-grandsons would fight a Thirty Years War to learn that.) Charles was content with a political victory rather than a theological chimera.

Johan Frederick had to be content with his life. His cousin reigned in Saxony and that branch of the family would continue to do so until 1918. The dispossessed Prince–now a mere duke–and his descendants were reduced to ruling over a few motley towns and estates. Their little realm was known by its most prominent properties: the town of Coburg and the duchy of Gotha.

And in time, the family of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha would acquire a few more properties to alleviate the loss of Saxony. The job in Brussels helped, and the position in London is pretty prestigious.

Junk Mail of 1521

Posted in General, On This Day on January 3rd, 2007 by Eugene Finerman – 2 Comments

Guess what was in Martin Luther’s junk mail on this day in 1521? It was a big envelope with the exclamation “You May Already Be a Heretic! Learn How You Can Get a Free Trip to HELL!” Yes, Martin Luther had just received his very own Excommunication.

Pope Leo X had finally noticed the loss of Northern Germany and Scandinavia, a mere three years after Luther ignited the Reformation. The Pope had been preoccupied with redecorating the Vatican. Aside from having the aesthetic standards of a De Medici, Leo had an unrequited crush on Raphael and was always finding projects to keep that attractive, personable young man around. Unfortunately, in 1520 Raphael died of syphilis (the consequences of being so attractive and personable) and the Pope lost his major distraction.

Finally, the Pope would deal with that dangerous young man who threatened the supremacy of the Church. Of course, Leo picked the wrong man. The Pope could not be bothered with Luther; Leo was not interested in theology and was not prepared to debate some ill-tempered professor over the standard of living in Purgatory. However, Leo was concerned with young Charlie Hapsburg. By the age of nineteen, Charlie had inherited most of Christendom: he was the King of Spain,Sicily and Southern Italy. And that was just on his mother’s side. Being a Hapsburg, Charles also ruled Austria, the Netherlands, Belgium and–for what it was worth in prestige–the nominal Holy Roman Empire.

The Pope tried to prevent Charles’ election as Holy Roman Emperor, a position that had long been regarded as a Hapsburg prerogative. Then, Leo refused to coronate Charles. The Pope evidently thought that a 19 year-old was unworthy of such power and responsibility. (Leo had been appointed a cardinal when he was 13, and the deMedici family had been bought their kid the papacy; but the young deMedici begrudged the even younger Hapsburg.)

By his futile and meaningless efforts, Leo had managed to offend his most powerful parishioner, the one man in Germany who was in a position to crush the nascent heresy. Not feeling terribly loyal to the Papacy, Charles proved initially quite tolerant of Luther. After all, the Church definitely needed reform; and wasn’t that Luther’s sole aim? Yes, Charles was wrong; but by 1521, the heresy had proved so popular in Northern Germany that only a civil war could crush it. Charles needed the support of the German princes of the North; he intended to conquer Italy if only to make his point to the Pope.

(Leo died without having the pleasure of meeting Charles. However, Pope Clement VII– Leo’s cousin–was persuaded by the German sack of Rome in 1527 to coronate Charles.)

So, after three years of ignoring the loss of northern Europe while alienating any support elsewhere, the Pope finally excommunicated Martin Luther. The most impact that Papal Bull might have had on Luther was a paper cut.