and Spain owed their unity in the sixteenth century. It was the most potent political principle then fermenting in Europe; destroying the old, it led to the construction of the new.
The failure of the attempt at political reform involved the ruin of all hopes of a religious settlement which should be either peaceful or national, for the only instrument by which such an object could have been achieved was broken in pieces. Each political organism within the Empire was left to work out its own salvation at its own option without the stimulus or control of a central government; and the contrast between the course of the Reformation in Germany and its development in England affords some facilities for comparing the relative advantages and disadvantages of a strong national monarchy. In Germany at all events there can be no pretence that the whole movement was due to the arbitrary caprice of an absolute King. To whatever extent it may have had its roots in the baser passions of mankind, it was at least a popular manifestation. It came from below, and not from above. Charles V was hostile from conviction and from the exigencies of his personal position; the ecclesiastical Princes were hostile from interest if not from conviction; of the temporal Princes only one could be described as friendly, and even Frederick of Saxony was not yet a Lutheran. He was still treasuring a collection of relics and he had spoken severely of Luther's Babylonish Captivity. His attitude towards all religious movements, however extravagant, was rather that of Gamaliel, on whose advice to the Sanhedrim he seems to have modelled his action; if they were of men they would come to nought of themselves, and rather than be found fighting against God he would take his staff in his hand and quit his dominions forever.
But whatever animosity the authorities may have entertained against the movement was neutralised by their impotence. The Edict of Worms left nothing to be desired in the comprehensiveness of its condemnations or in the severity of its penalties, and the Roman hierarchy was particularly gratified by the subjection of the press to rigid censorship and by the relegation of its exercise to the Church. But, while the Edict had been sanctioned by the national Diet, its execution depended entirely upon local authorities who were reluctant to enforce it in face of the almost universal disapproval. The Primate himself, the Archbishop of Mainz, for fear of riots refused his clergy licence even to preach against the outlawed monk; and at Constance, for instance, not only was the publication of the Edict refused, but the imperial commissioners who came to secure its execution were driven out of the city with threats. Both the Edict of Charles and the Bull of Leo remained dead letters in Germany outside the private domains of the House of Habsburg; and the chief effect of the campaign of the allied Pope, Emperor, and King
