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Faith & Reason Honors Program
SENIOR THESIS
Name
Robert Johnson
Thesis Title
The Holy Roman Empire and the Thirty Years’
War
Thesis Sub-Title
An Analysis of a Religious Conflict
Thesis Director
Brennan Pursell, Ph.D. (Department)
Year
2016
The Holy Roman Empire and the Thirty Years’ War: An Analysis of a Religious Conflict
Abstract: The Thirty Years’ War was a devastating conflict that engulfed most of Europe,
and was without question one of the most destructive wars in history. The role that
religion played in its beginnings has been the subject of constant analysis by scholars.
Because of the prominence of religious warfare in the Middle East today, this paper
analyzes the degree to which religion actually played a role in being responsible for the
conflict. It will argue that other factors – political problems, dynastic rivalries, and intercontinental competition – were truly to blame for the escalation of the war. Religion, in
itself, cannot be blamed alone for any war – rather, it is its use as a tool by figures of
authority that gives it such a reputation. To lend credence to this position, the history and
political structure of the Holy Roman Empire will be analyzed in depth, and will also
provide a critical look at the issues which spurred the Protestant Reformation.
(A map of the empire is attached at the end of this paper for reference).
Introduction: Religious Warfare and Its Relevance to Europe
The twenty-first century has so far characterized itself by nearly a decade and a half
of brutal warfare, the majority of it seemingly provoked by Islamic fundamentalism and
religious division. Battles have raged across the Middle East and Africa, from Afghanistan
to Iraq, Yemen to Libya, Syria to Lebanon, Israel to Pakistan, Tunisia to Somalia. A
significant portion of the world has been shaken to the core by untold strife and division.
For the Western individual, much of the fighting has taken place far away from home –
away from beating hearts of Europe and the Americas.
This is not to say that the West has gone untouched – the attacks on Paris and
Brussels stand as testament to this reality, and the migrant crisis alone has put significant
amounts of stress on the European Union. The war exists, surely, but nevertheless, it is
something distant – something far away. The majority of it takes place “over there” – the
armies are elsewhere, the bombing is elsewhere, and a great deal of the death is elsewhere.
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But there was a time when Europe suffered in a way that the Middle East very much
suffers now. The pinnacle of this suffering was experienced in the seventeenth century not long ago by the relative scale of history. It was a time where the continent groaned
tremendously under the weight of its own religious tensions and divisions, where millions
were killed, and millions more displaced. The struggle, without a doubt, defined the
century, and its outcome would forever reshape and redirect the fate of the powers of
Europe. This was the Thirty Years’ War - a brutal conflict that nearly shattered an empire,
caused unfathomable damage to the whole of Europe, and provoked a general struggle the
scale of which would not be matched until the rise of Napoleon nearly two hundred years
later.
In order to better understand the nature of so-called religious warfare, and the
reality behind the motivations of any religious conflict – contemporary or historical – the
Thirty Years’ War can be used as a model to draw some general conclusions. By examining
the destructive nature of the war in depth, along with a sufficient understanding of the
political realities and structure of the state in which it took place (in this case, the Holy
Roman Empire) one can see that while religious disagreement can lead to the start of a war,
it is religion’s use as a tool of the political that truly perpetuates the conflict. Religion itself
is not the primary driver of warfare.
What is the Thirty Years’ War?
The Thirty Years’ War has been generally forgotten by the American public at large,
barely given a passing mention in history curricula. It is confused with Hundred Years’
Wars and Seven Years’ Wars, given only passing mention in comparison to the Crusades,
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Napoleon, or the World Wars of the twentieth century. Yet the Thirty Years’ War is just as
crucial to the overall direction of world events, and every bit as violent.
The war began with largely religious motivations – the split between Catholicism
and Protestantism still a fresh scar on the sickly body of Christendom. What would begin
in the Holy Roman Empire would quickly become a general European conflict in a contest
for influence and power at the center of the continent – before the end, France and Spain,
Sweden and Denmark, the Netherlands and Croatia, Bohemia and Hungary, England and
Poland, among others, would all involve themselves in the conflict in some way – either
directly or indirectly.
Religious disagreement would give way to larger problems, as the war evolved from
a battle over belief to a contest to decide the balance of power between the great European
dynasties. In many ways, the Thirty Years’ War serves as a mirror to the conflicts of today
– perhaps religious in the onset, but largely driven, continued by, and expanded by other
means.
The Holy Roman Empire: What it Was (and What it Was Not)
The Holy Roman Empire has had an immense impact upon the history of Europe.
Despite being largely ignored or minimized in a great deal of curricula in favor of other
regional powers such as Great Britain, Spain, or France, it can rightly be said that the
history of all three of those states in particular have been undoubtedly shaped by the Holy
Roman Empire’s actions. A proper history of Europe, and is incomplete without a thorough
investigation of the Empire itself, and to understand the Thirty Years’ War, one should have
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a general idea of the background, structure, and purpose of the state in which the conflict
began.
Before continuing any further, it would be helpful to make a few clarifications, in
order to correct for some popular mistakes made by the public at large. The Holy Roman
Empire should not be confused with its ancient inspiration, the Imperial Rome of the
Caesars. Though related in name, roughly four centuries span the gap between the fall of
Western Rome to Odovacar’s army of Goths in AD 4761 and the establishment of
Charlemagne’s Empire on Christmas Day in the year 8002.
At its peak, the Empire did constitute a significant portion of the old holdings of old
Western Imperial Rome, along with additional holdings in Scandinavia and Europe. The
heart of the state was distinctly un-Roman – roughly present-day Germany, although
historian Peter H. Wilson is also quick to point out that the Empire also constituted “all, or
part of, ten other modern countries: Austria, Belgium, the Czech Republic, Denmark,
France, Italy, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Poland, and Switzerland.”3 For a time, Spain
would also come under its rule, while Hungary would also be significantly influenced and
shaped throughout its history. Therefore, it can be seen that the Holy Roman Empire is not
truly a direct continuation of Old Rome in any concrete way, other than in a “spiritual”
sense.
To further complicate the matter, for over six centuries of the Holy Roman Empire’s
existence, the remnants of the Eastern Roman Empire continued to survive, co-existing
with the above – though these inhabitants spoke Greek, they still considered themselves
“Romans,” and were commonly acknowledged as such by contemporary medieval powers
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and authorities. Known to history as the “Byzantines,” their emperors and empresses
would govern from the seat of the old Eastern Roman capital, Constantinople (modern-day
Istanbul) on the Bosporus Straits.
The direct inheritors to the remnants of Rome, the Byzantines ruled over
increasingly shrinking territories throughout the entirety of the Middle Ages,
encompassing Asia Minor, the Middle East, parts of Africa, and the Balkans, and considered
themselves the “true protectors of Christianity,” in the vein of the legendary Constantine
the Great.4 Their history generally follows a pattern of gradual decline that would end with
the fall of their capital to the Ottoman Turks on the 29th of May, 1453 – a date that some
consider to be the true “end” to the Roman Empire proper, and the end of Medieval Times.
The “Holy Roman Empire”, then, was also entirely unrelated to its Eastern Roman
step-cousin. The Byzantines nevertheless remain important to the story, however, as the
Holy Roman Empire was considered by the Church in Rome to be the Western equivalent to
the Byzantines in the East – serving a similar function (the protection of the Church and the
defense of civilization against all threats) and carrying on the old “Roman” cultural heritage
of Europe.
In fact, it was partially due to the failures and general collapses of the Byzantine
Empire that a “Holy Roman Empire” was even dreamed of as a necessary invention. This
was in large part because of the rise of Islam in the early 7th century, whose forces quickly
conquered the Byzantine Middle East and the whole of northern Africa by the year 709.5
Hereafter, generally instability rocked the continent as this comparatively new
threat threatened the Christian underpinnings of Europe itself. The Byzantines, being the
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only established power to that point with enough resources to resist, were unable to
project an effective response, and their own dynastic line of leadership was caught up in a
sordid affair of dynastic intrigue and politics, destined for what seemed like an uncertain
future. The situation continued to worsen.
Not long after the fall of Africa, Visigothic Spain had crumbled, and the south of
Europe appeared as though it might collapse, with France and Italy directly threatened.
The former was narrowly saved in a climactic battle at Tours, thanks to the Frankish
warlord Charles Martel.6
It was in the context of this increasingly grim scenario that Pope Leo III granted the
title of Emperor to Charles Martel’s descendant, Charlemagne, on Christmas Day, AD 800.
It is to this moment that the Holy Roman Empire could trace its origins. For the rest of its
existence, the members of the Empire preserved the memory of this heritage. It was born
amidst this bleak scenario in which it emerged triumphant – and would continue to
characterize itself as the principle defender of the faith and the crowning centerpiece of
Europe. From that Christmas Day in the early Middle Ages, the Empire would maintain
varying degrees of influence, prestige, and stability, until its final dissolution by Napoleon
Bonaparte over one thousand years later, in 1815.
As outlined above, the Empire was instituted with the general idea that it would be
the defender of the church against all outside worldly threats. The Emperor, theoretically
deriving his authority and origins not of himself, but from the Pope in Rome, was
subordinate to that pontiff, the leader of the Christian (and later, specifically Catholic)
Church. Not only did the Holy Roman Emperor consider himself the true inheritor of the
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glory of Old Rome, he was invested with the belief (justified or no) that he was the highest
of the lords of Christendom, principal defender of the True Faith, the right hand of the
successor of Saint Peter, and master of an empire greater than any neighboring kingdom or
power.
Whether these high ideal was consistently realized or achievable is entirely another
matter – the fact remained that, regardless, it gave both the Empire and its leaders
somewhat of a divine quality or mission that would characterize the spirit and image of the
state throughout its entire history.7
Often, over the course of the millennium in which the Empire existed, these
principles would prove almost laughable, to say the least, especially in later eras when the
Empire suffered steep decline. By the time of the Thirty Years’ War, the title of the
Emperor carried more prestige than raw power, though the individual who assumed the
throne still carried a great deal of influence. Even still, the stability and status of the Empire
was largely left to the mercy of the powerful nobles and church officials that operated
below him. The end of the war would bring changes to this reality.
An Empire’s Structure Unpacked
With some of the history and background of the Holy Roman Empire presented, the
next step necessary to understanding the outbreak of the Thirty Years’ War is an analysis of
the political structure of the Empire itself. It is because of the nature of that framework –
including its notable flaws - which directly contributed to the religious and political unrest
that sparked the conflict. It is little coincidence the Luther’s ideology found such a ready-
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made home in Germany and the Holy Roman Empire – and it is little surprise that such an
ideology might contribute to the political scenario that would lead to the war’s outbreak.
Roughly speaking, by 1600, historians believe the population of Germany to be
somewhere around 16 million, a significant number for the time, although it pales in
comparison to its modern population of roughly 81 million.8 By the year 1648, which
heralded the end of the war in the Empire with the Peace Treaty of Westphalia,
approximately 20% of that population is thought to have perished. These people were
either directly murdered or killed in the course of the war, or from other causes, such as
famine, sickness, disease, and other incidences brought on indirectly by the fighting.
Some historians have gone even farther in their calculations, proposing that perhaps
even 40% of Germany’s population met their end by the half-century mark – a chilling
statistic, implying that over six million would meet their deaths.9 The exact figures will
never be known for certain, but regardless of the fact, nothing more needs to be said
regarding the Thirty Years’ War’s absolutely devastating effects upon the German populace.
The world of the 17th century world was a pre-industrial society, still making great
shifts politically, religiously and socially, but its landscape was largely unchanged since the
Middle Ages. More than 85% of the population subsisted in rural areas, away from the
bustle of cities and hubs of commerce.10 While there were still thousands of cities scattered
across Germany’s expanse, their names still familiar to the general reader today – for
example, Berlin, Heidelberg, Cologne, Munich – they simply were not what they are at
present. In fact, writes historian John Gagliardo, 90% of them could hardly be called
“cities” at all, being home to less than a thousand people.11 The largest had at most 50,000
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inhabitants, but even still, this is hardly a fact to marvel at. After all, the Roman historian
Procopius estimates that Ancient Rome, at its peak, was estimated to have over one million
residents.12 Sixteen hundred years later, the Holy Roman Empire couldn’t claim an urban
center with even a fraction of that number.
It goes without saying that the Empire matured, developed, changed and grew
throughout the course of its one thousand year history – the Empire in the 19th century was
hardly comparable to the feudal realm over which Charlemagne held court in the 9th
century. Even still, by the mid-1300s, in the later Middle Ages, the Empire began to take
the form, roughly, that it would maintain until its dissolution.
The Holy Roman Empire was unique among its European neighbors and rivals in the
sense that its leader was determined not by a hereditary dynastic line, but by elected vote.
Once elected king, the Pope was charged with officially crowning the emperor – making the
Imperial throne, at least on paper, directly subservient to the Bishop of Rome, and, though
this would only become relevant later – a inherently Catholic position.
The Emperor had varying degrees of control and authority over his subjects, though
even the strongest of emperors had comparatively little authority compared to other kings,
such as those of Spain, or France (this difference especially noticeable by the outbreak of
war in 1618, by which time both of those monarchies had become exponentially
strengthened compared to the Middle Ages.)
By the beginning of the seventeenth century, the vast expanse of the Holy Roman
Empire was divided up into approximately 2500 smaller territories, each with a varying
degree of influence, prestige, autonomy and power.13 The size of each individual
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principality could range in scale from a wealthy, expansive region the size of Bavaria, to a
small castle or manor. Two thousand of these territories belonged to this latter category miniscule in size, these tiny estates and properties were under the control of Imperial
knights. In total, all their holdings combined would only comprise about 250 square miles
of land, writes Gagliardo, and despite the staggering number of these territories, none of
them carried any real political power. Largely, they were not figured in terms of general
representation or political maneuvering, and in reality pertained to division of property.
The remaining four hundred or so principalities were the territories with real
influence and power, divided into ecclesial/church lands (136 of these), secular states (173
in number) and 85 “free cities,” or imperial cities, not under the control of any lord. These
principalities had the power to vote, debate, and make laws and direct policy in the Empire,
forming a sort of congress known as a “diet,” which was divided into three separate
councils, each with varying degrees of influence.14
The most powerful council in the Empire, and the one which would figure a great
deal in the struggle to come, was the Council of Electors. Not only were these seven of the
most influential lords in the Empire, they were also tasked with the critical mission of
selecting the Imperial Leader, the “king of the Romans.”15 For centuries, the seven electors
– the Duke of Saxony, Margrave of Brandenburg, the Archbishops of Mainz, Trier, and
Cologne, the King of Bohemia and the Count Palatine of the Rhine – had exercised this task.
Because of their influence, the Council of Electors also was a major force that guided the
general opinions and legislations of a diet.
10
Below the Council of Electors was the Council of Princes, who of course formed the
largest group overall, and the Council of Cities formed the third section of the diet. In order
for a law to be passed, two out of three of the councils needed to approve it individually,
after which the Emperor would either institute the law or reject it. Despite the medieval
hierarchical structure, the system itself should seem very familiar in many ways to any
modern Westerner. Though it had significant weaknesses and flaws (which will soon be
revealed in the events of history) the representative, democratic system of the Empire was
unique among the major European powers of the age.
Luther, Protestantism and Catholicism: Religious Tensions in Christendom
Before considering the war in question, it would be beneficial to step backwards
again in the timeline for a moment, in order to consider the religious conflict itself which
had been raging in the background for decades. Prior to the appearance of Martin Luther’s
Ninety Five Theses in 1517, a series of protests against the Catholic Church, Western
Christendom was largely united under one banner in Rome. Church power was largely
consolidated at this point under the Pope, the bishop of Rome, whose temporal and
spiritual powers had continuously increased throughout the Middle Ages following a series
of challenges (both internal to the Church and external) to papal supremacy.
Prior to this event, Medieval Christianity had suffered only one other catastrophic
separation – the schism of 1054, in which the Eastern (Greek) Church, based out of
Constantinople and the Western (Latin) Church based out of Rome ceased to be in
communion with one another, following a series of complex theological and political
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disagreements. Nearly 500 years later, the Reformation would prove even more
devastating.
The man many consider to be the father of the Reformations, Martin Luther, was
born in Germany in 1483, in the midst of a tumultuous time in history – the late fifteenth
century was an especially crucial turning point for Europe. The Medieval Era, by the
reckoning of nearly all historians, had come to a close, the Renaissance flourished in Italy,
the Spanish Empire was about to born, and Christopher Columbus was only nine years
away from accidentally stumbling upon Hispaniola. Only three decades earlier, the bloody
dynastic affair of the Hundred Years’ War between England and France had come to a close,
Constantinople had fallen, and the Papacy in Rome was at the height of its power.
A theologian, scholar, and Augustinian monk, Luther’s actions in life would have a
devastating effect upon the status quo of Christendom. This is not because his ideas were
necessarily unique, or even original to him. The Church had been struggling to quell
reformist-minded individuals for as long as it had existed, and the several centuries leading
up to Luther’s life were no exception to that rule.
Luther’s contributions to the history of the West would extend far beyond “merely”
the theological. It goes without question that ideologies of Luther, and the Reformation as
a whole, had a direct effect upon the political order of the day – specifically that of the Holy
Roman Empire – and to acknowledge anything otherwise would be to greatly
underestimate the role that religious thought had on the whole of Western history.
The Catholic Church by Luther’s day – specifically, its leadership in Rome – had
become a bloated, corrupt mess of worldly power, severely erring in both the political
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realm and the spiritual. It was for certain one of the bleakest periods of Catholic history – a
point in which the Institution had the most worldly power it had ever wielded in its
existence, but also a time in which it had wandered almost disastrously off course from its
original message laid out in the Scriptures. Luther himself made this clear in a letter to
Pope Leo X: “Whereas it was once a gate of heaven,” he wrote, it is now an open mouth of
hell….perchance we may be able to call back a few from that yawning chasm of Rome and
save them…they are Christians who are not Romans.”16
Recent centuries’ worth of protests against the church, conflict between kings and
popes, and internal struggles between local authorities and the broader structure in Rome
had taken its toll on Christendom. The sale of church offices and indulgences was rampant,
five centuries of crusading and holy wars run amuck had turned the idea into near selfparody, and the Petrine office’s validity and dignity (which of course had always had
scandals throughout its existence) had been severely marred thanks to string of less-thanoutstanding popes, including two, at this point in history, from the Medici family (with a
third to follow in later years).17
In the face of this situation, theologian Chad Pecknold writes that “Luther desired a
return to what he imagined the early church to be: free of scholasticism’s speculative
doctrine, free of philosophy, free of ecclesiastical authority and hierarchy, free of
complexity, and most importantly of all, free of politics”.18 The papacy itself was one of
Luther’s chief targets – for him, the summit of all Christendom’s problems sat in Rome.
This struggle or critique of papal power was nothing new in Luther’s day – ever since its
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inception, various lords and kings had struggled vigorously against the power of the
Papacy, and the Emperors of the Holy Roman Empire had been no exception.
And so, centuries of efforts against church structures, coupled with steadily
increasing corruption, added force to Luther’s claims. It should be pointed out that,
initially, Luther did not seek to entirely “eliminate” the entire “office” of the Pope, or the
structures of Rome itself.
Rather, Pecknold explains, Luther wished to bring the Church back onto what he
believed the proper course – and the only way he considered that achievable was by
tearing down the authority figures of the Church, at least temporarily.19 In a way that is
hard to fathom today, Rome and the Pope were still extraordinarily powerful in the
political sphere, commanding an awesome amount of worldly power, even in the postMedieval Age, and their theological importance or significance was marginalized or unclear
in the eyes of many.
By calling for a church of “the people,” a concept which Luther coined as “priesthood
of all believers”20 rather than a “church of Rome,” limited from the outside and subject to
man, Luther believed that his idealism would prove effective in restoring the church to its
original, apostolic glory. By tossing aside the trappings that had accumulated in the Church
in the past 1500 years, the slate might be wiped clean, so to speak – Christendom would be
reborn, and renewed, free of worldly power, worldly sin and corruption, and free of the
concerns of dynastic and state politics. A lack of hierarchy, and a focus on the common
individual, would necessarily result in the disconnection of Christian life from politics.
Rather, instead of meddling in the affairs of the world, Christianity could once again
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concern itself with its original goal – serving Christ and spreading the good news of
salvation.
The Catholic Church and its Role in Politics
To put the matter somewhat bluntly, Luther’s idealism would prove naïve. By
“denying the ecclesial any significant political structure,” Pecknold writes, “Luther
transferred it instead to the state, effectively granting the “temporal authority” a monopoly
on power. For fifteen hundred years the church itself had been a counter-weight to
temporal authority in the church…his reforms effectively handed all power to emerging
national authorities – the early modern nation states.21
This is crucial to understanding the course of religion in the Holy Roman Empire
and beyond. Though flawed, corrupt, and at times ineffective, the Catholic Church was
nevertheless designed and structured in such a way that the powers of the church would be
balanced with those of the state. While it is true that the scales that measured the power
between the church and state were often left unbalanced or worse throughout the Church’s
history, this has less to do with the theory behind the structure and more to do with the
actual application of the institution of the Church.
Key within Catholicism was a physical, very concrete, very real check against the
state making use of the Church. Because the institution of the Church had at least some
worldly sway and at least some temporal power, it was in theory able to resist the
temptations of the state in which it resided, the leaders of which often sought to make use
of the institution for their own gains.
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Often, this did not unfold effectively for the Church throughout the course of history,
but nevertheless it remains a fact that in theory the Church could stand above the political if
it so desired, and not necessarily be used as an instrument for political advancement. In
other words, there is nothing clear in the teachings or doctrine of the Catholic Church that
would support such a maneuver. The corrupted nature of mankind, however, and its
general tendency for greed and power, would of course attempt to dictate otherwise.
The problem with Protestantism, and Luther’s thought in general, is that its
doctrines by their very nature support that kind of state manipulation. With ecclesial
authority stripped away and the governance of the church left to “the priesthood of all
believers,” the direction of the church became much more malleable and much more
susceptible to the will of the individual. Lutheranism promoted two key doctrines as the
focus of all its thought – man was saved sola fide (by faith alone, not through works or the
sacraments of the church) and that Christianity’s authority was found sola scriptura – in
“Scripture alone.”
If an individual’s salvation could be attained without any assistance or guidance
whatsoever from a church institution, and that all authority could be derived by an
individual from a given book (the origins of which Lutherans glossed over), then
Christianity truly became the religion of the individual man, who now need only worry
about improving his soul, rather than managing or following an abstract, man-made,
institutionalized, and apparently un-scriptural Church.
Regardless of this, Luther nevertheless believed it the responsibility of the faithful
Christian to support his government, “which restrains the un-Christian and wicked so that
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- no thanks to them – they are obliged to keep still and maintain an outward peace”22 It
was this dynamic which helped to promote and support the decades of religious-inspired
violence and conflict in the coming decades.
A Solution? – The Peace of Augsburg, 1555
Long after Luther had passed, varying waves of religious unrest throughout the
Empire continued to plague Imperial authorities, as Catholic Emperors wrangled with the
question of Protestant belief in an inherently, nominally Catholic realm. Naturally, conflict
and violence erupted within Germany and its neighboring regions as adherents of both
faiths struggled to impose and defend their version of Truth against their enemies.
Following an extensive period of religious conflict which plagued the entirely of the
first half of the sixteenth century, Imperial lawmakers finally came to an agreement after
two years of deliberation. Offered by Emperor Charles V, this broad reform of the
constitutional law of the Empire became known as “The Religious and Profane Peace of
Augsburg,” which attempted to settle the matter in legal terms for good.
Under the religious terms of the agreement, members of both the Catholic and
Lutheran faiths were granted full political and legal rights within the Empire.23 The
phrasing and words within the religious segment of the document itself was kept
theologically neutral, in order to be agreeable enough to bring both parties to the table.
This was to be both a weakness and a strength of the Peace of Augsburg.
Powers Granted By Augsburg
Within each state in the Empire itself, the prince or ruler of each respective
province was to determine the official religion of the state – popularly known to historians
17
as “cuius regio, eius religio,” or “his realm, his religion,” a phrase not found in the official
documents themselves, but developed in the following decades.24 Regardless, this common
historical terminology is far too flippant or basic to do justice to the intentions of the
authors. The reality of the document is somewhat more nuanced. In the language of the
treaty itself, the concept was known as ius Reformandi, or the “right to Reformation.”
Lutheranism was made legal alongside Catholicism.25 Notably, Calvinism was
excluded (a fact which would later have consequences for the Empire) along with any other
denomination or Protestant variation or radical sect that had arisen out of the
Reformation.26 Those who lived in a particular state who practiced the opposing religion
could relocate to another territory.
Regardless of the apparent elegant simplicity of the solution, the peace did little
more than weaken the powers of the Emperor, strengthen the authority of the princes
below him, and in fact increase the strength of religious divisions among states, while
maintaining an apparent spiritual and political ceasefire within the borders of the Empire
itself.
The Peace of Augsburg’s fatal flaw was written into its very ideological foundations.
While a sort of freedom of religion was now made possible in terms of the law, this would
lie almost entirely at the mercy of the ruler in charge of each individual state. It would also
nearly guarantee that both sides of the religious divide – whose very creeds were
inherently opposed to each other – would redouble and re-strengthen their positions. With
the question of the matter of religious faith now legally tied to the whim of individual lords,
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that same question of faith could be utilized as a political weapon and a way to project and
maintain influence within the Empire.
Therefore, religious freedom and belief was tied to particular provinces, not so
much to the will of individuals or the masses, and those individuals were at the mercy of
the ruler of that province. Religious faith in the Empire was tied without question to those
with power, a recipe for disaster in the coming century. In short, writes Wilson, “a modern
separation of church and state was impossible, and religion remained integral to imperial
politics.”27
Augsburg’s Theoretical Checks on the Power of Princes
The concept of Ius Reformandi was not intended to be a power that allowed for the
flipping of religious belief on the whim of the ruler, granting him extreme powers over
matters of faith. Instead, it was intended to reflect more of a prince’s explicit “protector’s
status” of faith more than anything else, giving him express rights and responsibility over
maintaining the future of Christianity in his province, rather than the whims or attitudes of
the people.
Rather than something to help promote religious instability, ius Reformandi was
truly supposed to reflect a balance.28 It also sought to expand religious freedom outside of
the bounds of the Church, giving non-church (secular) leadership of both denominations
responsibility over the faith rather than putting that responsibility in the hands of the state.
In addition to this, it is notable to point out that the law now especially stressed the
fact that the spiritual leaders of the Catholic Church, its bishops, no longer had any power
to take any action in any part of the Empire that was deemed Protestant. There was no
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“loophole” or gap in which they could operate by “right of the church,” or call Protestantism
in a particular area into question by way of bringing forward charges of heresy. This was a
significant step for secular authority in the Holy Roman Empire and in Europe as a whole,
which had always traditionally bowed to Church authorities in terms of recognizing greater
authorities (at least, in theory).
To balance this idea, the parallel right to the right of Reformation given to the ruler
of a particular province was the concept of jus emigrandi, which ensured individual free
Germans of either faith of their ability to move from one province to another that would
practice their faith. This was seen as a significant step in reducing the amount of religious
interference or meddling that would take place among the elite. If a leader of either faith
was overly zealous or unjust in applying his principles, the people over which he governed
were no longer bound to live under his rule.
Protestants living in Catholic Bavaria, for instance, could freely move to a more
Lutheran friendly Rhineland without harm done by their leaders, while the opposite was
also to be absolutely true. Rather than overstress a provincial leader’s powers, the
document was attempting to do just the opposite by giving individuals the opportunity to
escape their domain.
Additionally, the wording of the Peace of Augsburg allowed for the current
theological map of 1555 to be maintained – where there were now Protestants, there could
be Protestants, and where there were Catholics, there could remain Catholics. Both faiths,
as legally allowed in the Empire, were to be equal in the eyes of the law. This was
absolutely different than the Empire “tolerating” Lutheranism while officially promoting a
20
state religion of Catholicism. Such a practice would never bring about true equality,
Catholicism would then always be favored on a state level, and unrest and persecution
would undoubtedly follow.
The stories of other European states, such as France and England, go far to prove
this fact. Rather, the idea behind the Empire’s solution was especially unique from its
neighbors. From this point forward, the Holy Roman Empire would theoretically remain a
blank framework or structure, around which limited Christian freedom of thought could be
exercised. There was no part of the treaty that officially attempted to detail or expound
upon what “faith” was, or that had any mention of the details of “the faith”.
The legislation passed at Augsburg was not purely religious. To additionally
promote stability and prevent opponents from framing the solution as a matter of the
Crown favoring one faith over the other, these reforms were placed in the larger context of
much more broad legislation promoting constitutional reform (hence the “Profane” in the
title. The Religious solutions were inserted into much more lengthy reforms which
modified the Empires economic laws, societal structure, and defensive and military policies
– the consequences of which are not especially relevant to the argument being presented
here.
This, says historian Diarmaid MacCulloch, was a significant blow to the Empires
“medieval unity of Law and faith,” where the Truth of the Faith reflected the Law, because
the Law was theoretically employed with the Truth in mind.29 Rather, that Truth was to be
personally and privately decided throughout the empire. Of course, ideas always sound
better on paper than they are applied in practice.
21
As far as the Imperial Cities were concerned, lacking singular leadership the way the
other states could claim, their faith at the time of 1555 needed to be maintained. Lutheran
cities would remain Lutheran cities, and Catholic cities the same. In terms of lesser leaders,
Augsburg only especially asserted that a man with the rank of prince had the right of ius
Reformandi. As such, the power of lesser nobles, such as that of count, was left up to some
doubt and debate.
Augsburg’s Potential Weakness: A Bias Towards Rome?
Within the documents themselves, there was also some favor given to the Roman
Catholic Church by way of a series of clauses known as the “Ecclesiastical Reservation.”
This part of the legislation guaranteed the catholicity of Church owned ecclesial territories,
and mandated that any converted, formerly Catholic bishop who led a province must “stand
down” and submit to the Church.30
This kept a great deal of provinces from turning over to the Lutheran side. It also
made a significant number of provinces that were factually Protestant at the time revert
nominally back to Catholicism in terms of their legal status, which would only go on to be
the foundation for religious issues at a later time. In name, however, Catholicism still
remained the official religion in roughly 200 of the Empire’s principalities. This was a
significant number, and it gave Catholicism the majority.31
Catholic opinion naturally went on to assume that the wording of the Peace of
Augsburg implied that those ecclesial or church territories that had begun Catholic in 1555
would always remain Catholic. As the number of these types of territories outnumbered
those of the secular by a significant number, they were comfortable with this majority and
22
sought to maintain it. Because church leadership was consistently replaced by church
leadership, it seemed as if there was no way for Protestants to ever infiltrate and overtake
church lands. On its face, then, Augsburg looked as though it was partial to Catholicism.
Lutherans however, would argue that it was indeed possible for an ecclesial
territory to change its confession, as Charles V’s son, Ferdinand I, had made promises
(outside of the official agreement) that the faith of Lutherans living within territories of the
Catholic Church would be given limited toleration and rights.
These sorts of arguments began to form the framework for challenges to overall
effectiveness of the peace of Augsburg itself. The status of Church territories was already
called into question, and, additionally, the even more technical question of what to do with
particular Church territories within a Protestant state was also nuanced and left unclear.
What, for instance, was the legal status of an abbey within the Protestant Palatinate? What
was the legal status of the abbot of that abbey? This was a problem that was never fully
solved.
Protestant Challenges to the Catholic Majority
Of course, Protestant leaders wanted to control of church territory and Church
property because of the obvious political and economic benefits associated with it. In the
empire, there were fifty bishoprics alone, around 80 abbeys (read: convents or
monasteries) and about one thousand “benefices.”32 A benefice, broadly speaking, was an
appointment by the church that carried with it some kind of “benefit” – such as property, or
wealth – potentially lucrative sources of influence.
23
So, naturally, ecclesial territories that became de facto Protestant began to elect
their own choices to serve in a capacity as a Lutheran “bishop.” Individuals argued that
they could exercise this power thanks to the limited rights that had been unilaterally
granted them earlier in the 1500s by Ferdinand I, outside of the Augsburg agreement.
Naturally, later emperors were reluctant to allow this to continue, or else risk losing the
Catholic majority, and so Ferdinand I’s successors, Maximilian II and Rudolf II, found
somewhat of a middle ground. Instead of allowing for Protestant leaders of ecclesial
territories to label themselves as “princes” in an official capacity, they allowed them to
remain as “administrators.” This hardly resolved the problem in a permanent sense, but
peace was preserved for the moment.
The notion and nature of an individual’s freedom of religion proved to be the
greatest weakness of the peace. If a territory was labeled as expressly Catholic, it seemed
to Catholics as though this implied the legal right to “expel” heretical Lutheran believers
from their domain33 For the Lutheran, the law seemed to imply the opposite right – a
broader freedom to worship within the territory regardless of belief. Either way, these
opposing viewpoints would only serve to increase tensions as time continued to pass. On
the one hand, the law seemed to protect the Church. On the other hand, it seemed as
though the law allowed for a further expansion of it in terms of individual freedom.
In the end, it seems that little thought, or at the very least, not enough foresight, was
given by any party of faith to the idea that the concept of ius Reformandi could ever spin out
of control, or at the very least, end with one version of Christianity absolutely dominating
24
the other. But that is not to say that the Peace of Augsburg did not prove successful. It does
not do history justice to call the peace a mere “temporary” solution.
It would be another sixty three years before another major war threatened the
stability and future of the Empire.34 That, in itself, is an impressive achievement and does
highlight the strength of the document overall. It is a tragedy that in the end political and
religious and political tensions continued to rise in the buildup to war, but the Peace of
Augsburg can hardly be called a legislative failure, or the document directly responsible for
the coming battle.
Nevertheless, Protestants had some distinct advantages in the coming years. In
terms of powerful dynasties, Brandenburg, the Palatinate, and Saxony all had converted to
Protestantism, and it should be remembered that these three territories were also three of
the electors that were held responsible for the election of the emperor. Other significant
aristocratic dynasties would also convert, including the house of Hohenzollern, the family
of the future Kaiser Wilhelm.
Moving Closer to Conflict: Catholicism Faces Challenges
There were additional problems for the Roman Catholic Church as time passed.
Besides holding a significant fraction of the Council of Electors, Protestants also maintained
a majority of the prestigious imperial titles – that of the elector palatine, and that of the
Reichsverweser.35 This latter position was especially important, as it referred to the
individual who would assume power in the case that no emperor was on the throne. The
Imperial version of the Vice Presidency, essentially, was in the hands of a Protestant
individual – unthinkable for an institution so closely linked with the Catholic Church.
25
On the Catholic side of affairs, outside of the nominal ecclesial majority, things did
appear somewhat grim. Bavaria and Austria were Catholic, and this was a significant boost
to the Habsburg Imperial cause. But other than these two, few other regions of significance
retained their Catholicism – other than Lorraine, which was on the border with France, and
by way of complex imperial laws, was in itself nearly separate from the Empire and not of
much practical use. The southwest of the Empire largely retained its Catholicity, along with
little less than half of the Imperial free cities.
In the background of all of the domestic religious and political debates mentioned
above, the Empire had been dealing with the Ottoman Turkish threat to its east. The
Ottoman Empire, having expanded into Eastern Europe over the course of the preceding
centuries following the utter collapse of the Byzantines, frequently clashed with the Holy
Roman Empire and its allies. In the wake of the Peace of Augsburg, Emperors Ferdinand I
and Maximilian II both did their best to maintain the status quo in order to muster enough
national unity and strength to deal with this outside enemy. Maintaining their capability to
defend Europe was key – if the Ottoman Empire was to ever make significant headway into
Central Europe, the implications could be disastrous.
In some ways, thanks to this, Imperial policies and attitudes towards Protestants
remained relatively even thanks to political necessity. Because the most powerful princes
in the Empire were Protestant, and their support was ultimately necessary to project
strength and maintain military superiority, political dealings with those princes was kept
cordial. This allowed the Holy Roman Empire to remain relatively stable in terms of
26
religious unrest, even as places like France and the Netherlands were shaken to their
foundations by religious revolt and civil war in the 1560s and beyond.
Even still, religious developments were fast occurring that would challenge this
stability. One of the primary factors was the emergence of Calvinism in 1560, a reformed
version of Luther’s ideals, much more severe, and to the eyes of many in the Empire, too
extreme. It was not accounted for in the text of the Peace of Augsburg, and its emergence
and rising popularity among Imperial nobility had a major effect upon the course of events.
The most notable of the multiple converts to Calvinism was the Elector Palatine in
1559, whose high status in the empire and significant influence did much to challenge the
Imperial order. His policies and conduct did much to upset the order of peace. Little
toleration and respect of religious rights occurred within the borders of the Palatinate, as
even Lutherans were oppressed and any reconciliatory dialogue with Catholics was
immediately dismissed. To make matters worse, and to solidify support within the estate
for Calvinism, the government purported that Roman Catholic plots were occurring to
interfere with, corrupt and dismantle their Protestant faith. This hardly helped in terms of
diplomacy.
Despite its violent policies, the Elector Palatine continued to struggle for equal
religious rights in the Empire, a movement he found little support for among both
Lutherans and Catholics. Calvinism never proved to be a tremendously popular idea in
Germany – by 1618 and the outbreak of the war, only twenty eight provinces of varying
sizes considered themselves Calvinist – but the actions of the Elector Palatine alone was
enough to seriously stir the political pot.
27
At its heart, though, the efforts of the Palatinate was not merely a religious struggle
but a dynastic one. Calvinism set the Elector Palatine in sharp contrast to the faithful
Roman Catholic Duke of Bavaria. Both the Elector and the Duke were cousins, of the same
dynasty – the prestigious Wittlesbachs. The Bavarians had managed to seize significant
amounts of Palatine territory during a war in the early 1500s, cementing the rivalry
between the two parts of the family, and following the Reformation had chosen to stay in
the Church, becoming staunch defenders of the Catholic Faith. Despite not being one of the
seven electors, Bavaria continued to do all it could to rise in prominence, checking
Protestant influences on Free Cities (a notable example of which occurred in Cologne).
“The Cologne War”: Imperial Peace is Tested
There are numerous examples which help to highlight the tensions which led to the
outbreak of the Thirty Years’ War in 1618. Now that a proper background has been
provided highlighting the nature of the religious questions involved, the political
consequences of supporting one side or the other, and the potential fragility of the Holy
Roman Empire’s political system, it can readily be demonstrated how all of this ideology
translated into action in a real, concrete sense.
It will also be rapidly seen that the religious excuses for beginning the war were
more often than not in reality merely the justification for starting the fighting. Once
combat began, politics and wider concerns took center stage. Still, these religious
differences remain critical to understanding the overall picture, as faith was very much
linked with politics, part of the very essence of the Imperial system.
28
“The Cologne War,” or “The War of Cologne,” briefly lasted from 1583 to 1588.
Despite its comparatively miniscule scale compared to the size of the coming war, the
unfolding of its events nevertheless very much demonstrates the points highlighted above.
It also will lend support to the realization that the destruction of the Thirty Years’ War did
not begin in a vacuum, nor were its reasons for beginning necessarily unique to or
unprecedented in European history.
The War of Cologne is particularly significant because it marks the Empire’s first
victory in halting the conversion of an ecclesiastical (church) territory to Catholicism.36
This was especially vital as the electorate of Cologne was one of the seven princes
referenced above that was responsible for the election of the Holy Roman Empire. It goes
without saying that keeping a Catholic balance of electors was absolutely vital to
maintaining the Catholicity of the Empire itself, the tradition of the Empire, and its broader
relationship with the Catholic Church. To succeed the previous ruler, several candidates
had been proposed to replace the prince-archbishop, and the majority of support fell
behind a man named Gebhard Truchsess von Waldberg – shortened hereafter as
“Truchsess.”
Truchsess had appeared at first glance to be a solid candidate – a Catholic in good
standing with the Church, with ties to the Society of Jesus (the Jesuits) and an ordained
man. The neighboring power of Catholic Spain also approved. Again, as Cologne was a
major center of power in the Empire, it was vital that the city and region remain stable.
It was not long before problems began to arise. Truchsess, despite appearances,
was not quite the upstanding Catholic he had been perceived to be, as he fell in love with a
29
woman, named Agnes von Mansfeld.37 Unfortunately for the Empire, this was not even
remotely the end of the issue. Agnes von Mansfeld was a nun – and Archbishop Truchsess
married her in February of 1582.
Unsurprisingly, the Catholic population revolted, Truchsess decided to respond with
force, and within the year, the archbishop had levied an army, taken control of the city of
Bonn, and then became a Calvinist convert. Recall once again that the Peace of Augsburg
did not allow for such a conversion – Calvinism, along with any Protestant denomination
other than the accepted form of Lutheranism detailed in the law, was strictly forbidden.
This had not necessarily stopped others from converting to Calvinism, but given the
outlandish and extreme nature of Truchsess’ situation, it only complicated issues further –
Truchsess had entirely alienated himself, with both (Lutheran) Protestants and Roman
Catholics angered at the situation.
The incident, then, began on rough religious grounds, and might have stayed there,
had the pope not deposed the archbishop from his post the following year.38 The other six
electors, who were variably Catholic or Protestant, now were unanimously concerned over
the Pope’s political maneuvering – whose action had directly interfered with one of the key
elements of the Imperial system. Even still, most Lutherans were less than excitable
regarding the situation, reluctant to support a Calvinist and therefore risk worsening the
situation of Protestants in a still nominally Catholic Empire.
The situation escalated quickly from this point, the deposition only sparking major
tensions. Despite some major regions’ reluctance to join in on the fighting, thousands of
troops were mustered to support Truchsess’ cause in Bonn, with Calvinist nobles and the
30
Protestant Dutch throwing their weight behind the cause. What had begun as a local
scandal between an archbishop and a nun was fast growing into an international incident.
On the Catholic end of the spectrum, the Bavarians wasted no time in mobilizing
their own forces – calling for Truchsess to be replaced. Meanwhile, the Catholic Spanish
(allies of the Emperor and sworn enemies of the Dutch) took action of their own, supplying
a sizeable force to take place in the fighting. Even still, just as on the Lutheran side of the
conflict, the majority of Catholics were uneager to provoke the opposition and further
escalate the conflict, though they still no doubt vehemently disagreed with Truchsess and
his allies on nearly every religious issue imaginable. The politics of the situation demanded
patience, and this inherent reluctance by both opposing creeds to immediately participate
only goes to show that Europe was in no mood for a faith-based, idealistic religious war.
Tensions Rise: Religious Convictions Harden
Across the Empire, policies broadly known as “confessionalization” took place, as
leaders sought to reinforce the religious belief systems already established. This was done
largely by education and priests/ministers, and only served to harden borders and
religious divisions and lines. As the situation continued to worsen, the peace began to
fragment. Notably, Catholic Bavaria sent soldiers to occupy and garrison the Protestant
Imperial City of Donauwörth when Catholics had resistance to their worship there. This
greatly unsettled a great number of individuals in the Empire.
Cooler heads did not seem to prevail. During the early 1600s, the ducal territory of
Cleves-Jülich was the center of a flashpoint between Catholic and Protestant leaders who
argued over the succession to the territory. Protestant frustrations over their states’ lack of
31
ability to properly project power had led to the formation of a pseudo-alliance known as
the Protestant Union in 1608, the members of which nominally promised mutual support
and assistance to one another and the Protestant cause. It is hardly a surprise that a year
later, in 1609, Bavaria responded with the creation of its own “Catholic League” in order to
keep Protestantism in check.
More political theater than a sign of real religious devotion, the Union simply
reflected a lack of Protestant coordination, and the League was more an instrument of
Bavarian policy than anything else. Yet, despite the formation of this group and its
“counter group,” no real step was taken towards general armed conflict. The prospect of a
general war, yet alone a Thirty Year’s War, was not yet a forgone conclusion, yet this reality
was soon about to change. Political events would soon be set in motion that significantly
altered the course of the Empire towards war.
Political Maneuvering: Intrigue and Interference
Protestant leaders continued to build up their diplomatic ties. Notably, Frederick V
of the Palatinate was married to Elizabeth, daughter of the Protestant King of England,
James I. This seemed to assure the Union a powerful ally in the form of the English throne.
But this proved to be somewhat of a false hope, as King James, ever the cautious leader,
secured ties with Catholic Spain at the same time, arranging a marriage for his son, Charles.
Spain, with their King Phillip being a member of the Habsburg line and an ally of the
Empire, served as the effective counterweight to an alliance with Protestant Germans.
This would in essence neutralize whatever threat England might pose to the
Emperor and whatever aid he might provide the Palatinate in the event of a conflict.
32
Elsewhere, a tremendous opportunity for the Protestant cause was lost when the Calvinist
King of France, Henry IV, was killed by an assassin in 1610.
While it is true that religious tension and unrest would be the cause for the outbreak
of the Thirty Years’ War, that unrest might not have occurred had political developments
not gone so poorly. Whatever stresses may have been caused by the unanswered questions
in the documentation of the Peace of Augsburg were tremendously enhanced and
accelerated by these problems in the Habsburg line. A year after the Peace, in 1556, the
Holy Roman Emperor Charles V abdicated the throne, returning back to his home in Spain.
However, before he did this, he made arrangements to split the inheritance of his kingdom,
dividing the Empire and effectively removing Spain from Imperial control, which had been
part of the Empire until that point (see Fig. 1). The Austrian branch of the Habsburg family
was intended to receive the German territories and its surrounding European lands.
This arrangement proceeded smoothly enough until the rise of Rudolf II several
decades later, who refused to be married and would have no successor. In the early 1600s,
the Emperor Rudolf II was growing unfit to effectively rule. Ill, and increasingly unpopular
due to failures of internal and foreign policy, a move was made to have him surrender his
power and give the throne to another Hapsburg. This would prompt a succession crisis for
the Imperial throne. In addition to being childless, Rudolf II had also bankrupted the
Empire in his fight against the Ottomans in the Long Turkish War of 1593 to 1606, which
had accomplished very little in terms of furthering Imperial influence. Though the Sultan
had recognized the Emperor’s leadership in the course of peace talks, he had managed to
33
position himself so as to force the Empire to give him tribute, in addition to surrendering a
significant portion of Hungarian territory.
It was a severe blow to Imperial pride and prestige, especially for the Habsburg
family, who were forced to submit to the Empire’s archrival and sworn nemesis – the
enemy of Christendom. It was in the course of this lapse of influence and power that the
lesser states began to make power plays to increase their influence – both the Protestant
Union and the Catholic League were born during the reign of Rudolf II. When imperial
power lapsed, local power surged, and when local power surged, religious tensions
naturally increased as well. It was a crucial misstep for the Empire.
Before events could deteriorate too quickly, numerous parties moved to nominate a
new successor to the throne – Spain among them – supporting Rudolf’s brother, Matthias.
Still, no direct action could be taken as of yet, but Matthias still did what he could to
manipulate his position in the government and remove his inept brother from power. In
the process of attempting to win support, both men made heavy concessions to Protestants
in the Empire, severely weakening the Imperial Catholic position, and damaging the
stability of the order.
Notably, Matthias gave Bohemia (whose king, recall, was one of the electors) a
Letter of Majesty, which essentially greatly expanded their rights and significantly
increased their power. This was especially important, as Bohemia was home to a preReformation Christian sect known as the Hussites – a group with beliefs in many ways
antithetical to Catholicism. Naturally, their new powers emboldened the Bohemian people,
and they, along with other Protestant groups, began to become more vocal in their
34
criticisms of imperial policy. This is only one of many maneuvers undertaken during the
succession crisis, but the matter of Bohemia would especially haunt the empire for years to
come.
The Rise of Ferdinand II, Problems in Bohemia, and the Defenestration of
Prague
But by 1611, all of Rudolf’s lands had effectively been removed from his possession,
and so, powerless, the Emperor died the next year at his home in Prague. Matthias seized
power soon afterwards, and would prove a somewhat more effective ruler, stabilizing
ambitious Bavaria, but he would provide little more hope for the Habsburg family than
Rudolf, as he was also unable to produce any children for himself.
It was here that Matthias’ cousin, Ferdinand II, would assume power, and it was
Ferdinand’s policies, in light of his strong beliefs, that would be especially critical to
speeding up the journey to war. Many nobles and politicians in the Holy Roman Empire
kept up the façade of faith for show, in order to manipulate and maneuver the masses. Not
so with Ferdinand. A devoted orthodox Catholic with strong faith, an iron will, and
connections to the Jesuits, Ferdinand established his reputation as a staunch opponent of
Protestantism. He was a devoted attendee Mass and prayer, and made regular pilgrimages
to saints’ shrines around the Empire.
Ferdinand had little patience for non-Catholic beliefs, and as one his first orders of
business, was determined to bring Bohemia’s rebellion to a swift end. The Emperor
nullified Matthias’ Letter of Majesty, and had imperial agents work to censor the Bohemian
press. Naturally, with Bohemia a center not only for Hussites but also Lutherans and
35
Calvinists, the action was a political disaster. Ferdinand’s policies acted as the match that
lit Europe on fire, a fire that would combust on the 23rd of May, 1618.
When several of Ferdinand’s representatives arrived in Prague to inform the
Bohemians that their letter had been revoked, and that all non-Catholics would in turn be
removed from their leadership positions. In reply, historian David MacCulloch writes, “the
[Bohemian] delegates seized the palace, rounded up two of Ferdinand’s regents and a
secretary, and…threw them out of a window.”39 Luckily for Ferdinand’s men, they fell
straight into a compost heap. This incident would become known, famously, as “The
Defenestration of Prague.” Through this action, the Bohemians hoped to rally the whole of
Protestant Europe to their cause in order to battle their tyrannical oppressors. But, to their
dismay, their hopes were quickly dashed. Again, because alliances between states tended
to be based on other factors – such as political influence, economics, or power – and not
religion, there was little appetite for a general, Europe-wide religious war. Almost no one
made a move. The world waited.
The Match is Struck: War Begins
What Bohemia would do next would alter the scenario significantly. Reaching out to
the Elector Palatine, Frederick V, the Bohemians promised him the crown if he would rally
to their cause. Frederick naturally accepted, and so war became inevitable. If Frederick V
were successful in his bid to become both King of Bohemia and the Elector Palatine, he
would hold two of the seven seats on the Council of Electors. This would also put the
Protestants in the majority for the first time in history, making the prospect of a Protestant
Emperor very much possible. Ferdinand wasn’t willing to risk such a thing happening.
36
Frederick’s maneuvers emboldened other Protestant lords across the Empire,
significantly the Calvinist prince of Transylvania, who seized the opportunity launch to
launch attacks into Hungary. The Protestant Union, however, was hardly enthused – as
Frederick was a Calvinist, he hardly represented the Lutheran cause, which had significant
theological disagreements. King James of England, Frederick’s father-in-law, also opted to
try and maintain peace, and the Protestant Dutch Republic, having just finished its own
religious Civil War, was hardly in the mood to take sides in a foreign one. This example
alone speaks volumes about the nature of the Thirty Years’ War – perhaps religious in its
conception, but surely not escalated because of it. If it truly was a “confessional war” – a
war of Catholics verse Protestants in a bloody contest for religious truth where religion
was the motivating factor – now would have been the moment to act, when the Catholic
Holy Roman Emperor was challenged by one of his most powerful subordinates. Yet no
one budged.
Ferdinand II, able to drum up his own support and cause by casting the Bohemians
as Imperials in rebellion, acted swiftly, and at the Battle of White Mountain in November of
1620, the Bohemian revolt met its end, its armies nearly annihilated.40 Frederick V fled for
his life, finally managing to exile himself to friendly Protestant territory in the Netherlands.
Meanwhile, the Catholic League under the Bavarians finally took the opportunity to take up
arms, descending upon Frederick’s city of Heidelberg, and looting, pillaging and sacking
with a vengeance. In Bohemia, Protestant churches were removed from existence and
Catholicism was replaced in its stead. After some deliberation, Ferdinand II made the
37
decision to destroy a sect of Hussites known as the Utraquists, brutally converting some
and eliminating the rest.
The War Escalates: Foreign Intervention
In 1625, as sporadic conflicts still continued across Germany, Christian IV, the
Protestant King of Denmark and the holder of a duchy in the north of Germany that
bordered his kingdom (Holstein - which was in the Empire proper) rallied to the cause of
the Lutheran Germans in the North. He was met with stiff resistance from Imperial armies,
and Denmark was completely crushed by 1629. Overall, it seemed as if the Catholic Empire
would emerge surprisingly triumphant, and the war looked to be coming to its end.
Continuing his policies while he had the upper hand, Ferdinand continued to
reassert Catholicism in the empire and promote his own authority. In the key Habsburg
province of Inner Austria, for instance, the emperor ordered all Protestants who owned
land out of the state.41 While actions such as these were surely done out of religious fervor,
it also had the doubled effect of increasing Ferdinand’s own power and firmly asserting the
old Imperial Order. It was a very real possibility that Catholicism could be re-asserted by
force.
In 1629, however even as the Danish intervention met its end, the Emperor
overstepped his bounds, issuing a document known as “The Edict of Restitution.” It was an
attempt to essentially re-Catholicize the Empire in one swift stroke, and deal a crushing
blow to Protestantism. Under it, Calvinists still had no rights, and Protestants would be
forced to return all church lands that they had gained from the church since the year
1552.42 Needless to say, it sparked outrage across the Empire, even from Catholics, who
38
saw the action as a complete overreach and an attempt to turn the Empire into a
centralized monarchy like one of their neighboring European powers.43
With Catholics and Protestants united once again (proving once more that
confessional divides mattered, but the political still took priority) the Imperial Diet blocked
Ferdinand’s choice for his successor, made significant cuts to the Imperial Army, and
negotiated settlements to stabilize the situation. Once again, the war should have ended
here – and then Sweden decided to intervene in June of 1630, under the leadership of the
legendary Gustavus Adolphus.
Though Sweden had stated intervention was necessary to aid the cause of German
Protestantism, in reality this was a sly political maneuver on the part of the Swedes, in
order to expand their empire, boost their economy, secure their borders, and promote their
overall standing among the great European powers. To support the German Protestants
meant to fight for a cause that would entail a weaker, decentralized Holy Roman Empire if
victory was won, and that could only be good for Sweden. Religion, then, was a front – an
excuse, to win the sway of popular opinion and mythologize the character of Adolphus.
For a time, it seemed as if the balance could tip in favor of the Protestant cause as
Sweden had great successes on the battlefield. But in a dire turn of events at the Battle of
Lützen in November of 1632, Gustavus died in battle. While Swedish intervention would
continue for the duration of the war, their effectiveness, and their role in the fighting,
would be greatly reduced.
The war became increasingly brutal in scope and scale as the fighting intensified
and the war broadened. In one notable example in 1631, Catholic armies razed the city of
39
Magdeburg (a major Protestant hub) to the ground, slaughtering or burning alive over
20,000 inhabitants.44 Meanwhile, on the political front, Ferdinand attempted to walk back
his initial hostile legislation, promising more favorable outcomes for Lutherans and
attempting to come to a better, more agreeable solution to the religious problem as war
raged.
Religious Peace, General War: France against Spain and the Final Peace
Finally in 1635, a more concrete agreement was hammered out at the Peace of
Prague, a more recent year (1627) being set as the standard by which Lutherans could
keep their ecclesial lands. All parties in agreement, the conflict might have ended here, if
not for the fact that the war was becoming more and more of a general European conflict
by the day. The Catholic Spanish Empire at this time was engaged in its own dynastic
struggle with the Catholic Kingdom of France. The Empire, in a sense, was trapped.
On the one hand, Spain had been assisting the Empire both directly and indirectly
throughout the majority of the war. It had especially become involved by 1621, when a
twelve year peace treaty with its old enemy and former European possession, the
Netherlands, expired. The Dutch, fighting jointly on the side of the German Protestants and
to maintain their own independence, and the Catholic Spanish, fighting both for its Imperial
prestige and to support their Austrian Habsburg cousins, had been exchanging blows since
that hour.
The French, meanwhile, had been supporting the Habsburg’s enemies with money
and materiel since 1625. Though both the Empire and France were Catholic, a powerful
Empire was a threat to France, and France could not afford to be weaker than its neighbor.
40
So, when war officially broke out in 1635 between France and the Empire’s key ally of
Spain, Ferdinand believed the only option would be to offer his support. And so the Thirty
Years’ War continued – despite the fact that the Empire had managed to maintain victory
twice. Now, religious pretenses were largely dropped, and a war for Christendom
transformed into a war for European political power.
In reaction to the Holy Roman Empire’s declaration of Spanish support, France in
turn declared war on the Empire, aligning itself with Sweden and coordinating their
military strategies. It is during this last stage of the fighting that the war saw its bloodiest
battles and its most horrifying disasters. It was also during this last stage that the war was
at its most senseless. Fighting continued on for eight more years.
Finally in, 1643, Catholics and Protestants from the remaining foreign powers,
meeting separately in two different towns in the neutral province of Westphalia, came to a
final agreement. The new standard for the territorial layout of the Empire was to match
that of 1624, and this time, Calvinists would be allowed representation in the government
and through the law. Most importantly, the Estates were no longer allowed to change their
religion. The structure of the Empire would be set.
Concluding Thoughts
In the centuries that have followed the Peace of Westphalia, the world had struggled
to interpret the titanic conflict that had played out in Central Europe. In terms of its
themes and inspirations, in one sense it is just as much a “war of religion” as the war raging
in the Middle East and Africa today. No one can deny the Thirty Years’ War was a conflict
41
which involved matters of faith and religious creeds, and religion certainly did serve as a
catalyst for some of its violence.
But in general, it was the dynastic power struggles of the various lords that
propelled it forward – the scheming of electors and princes, the posturing of cousins
against cousins, the instability inherent in the Imperial title and the structure of the Holy
Roman Empire itself. Notably, the involvement of some of the most powerful players in the
war had little to do with the religious debate in the Empire at all – France fought to check
Spain, Spain fought to reassert control over the Netherlands, Sweden attacked to maintain
its own imperial interests, and Denmark’s brief foray into the war did little to advance the
cause of either side. The Thirty Years’ War might have been settled several times on its
religious grounds, if not for the repeated interruption of peace by outside powers.
Therefore, it is inaccurate to say that “religion” in itself is responsible for the
bloodshed. Religion was merely used as a tool to advance the power of the nobles of
Europe. Certain aspects of a religion might make it easier for it to be instrumentalized by
the state – Lutheranism was certainly suited for the task, as demonstrated above – but it
was hardly the cause for it. At best it was used as a tool for political convenience – as a
causus belli for Gustavus Adolphus and the Swedes, for instance, or in order to consolidate
imperial power, in the case of Emperor Ferdinand II. But religion itself was not the culprit
– the empire remained stable for decades under two religions until political failure eroded
the peace.
42
Fig. 1: The Holy Roman Empire, ca. 1618
43
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Civilization: The Renaissance. Vol. 5. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986.
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Caesariensis, Procopius. History of the Wars, Books V and VI:. Translated by H.B Dewing.
London: Heinemann, 1961.
Gagliardo, John G. Germany under the Old Regime: 1600-1790. London: Longman, 1991.
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MacCulloch, Diarmaid. The Reformation. New York: Viking, 2004.
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44
1
Peter H. Wilson, Heart of Europe: A History of the Holy Roman Empire. (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard
University Press, 2009), 700.
2
Brian Tierney, Western Europe in the Middle Ages: 300-1475. (The McGraw Hill Companies, Inc, 1992), 139.
3
Wilson, Heart of Europe, 1
4
Tierney, Western Europe, 17.
5
Wilson, Heart of Europe, 702
6
Tierney, Western Europe 126.
7
Wilson, Heart of Europe, 19.
8
CIA World Factbook. “Country Comparison: Population.” https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-worldfactbook/rankorder/2119rank.html
9
Diarmaid MacCulloch. The Reformation. (New York: Viking, 2004), 469
10
John Gagliardo, Germany under the Old Regime: 1600-1790. (London: Longman, 1991),
4.
11
Ibid, 4.
12
Procopius. History of the Wars, Books V and VI.
13
Gagliardo, Germany under the Old Regime, 2.
14
Ibid, 2.
15
Tierney, Western Europe, 536.
16
Martin Luther, “Letter to Pope Leo X” In Readings in Western Civilization Volume 5: The Rennaissance, (University
of Chicago Press, 1986), 329.
17
George L. Williams, Papal Geneaology: The Family and the Descendents of the Popes (McFarland, 2004), 71-75 .
18
C.C. Pecknold, Christianity and Politics: A Brief Guide to the History (Cascade Books, 2010), 85.
19
Ibid, 86.
20
Ibid, 87
21
Ibid, 86-87
22
Martin Luther, Luther’s Works, 45:95.
23
Geoffrey Parker, The Thirty Years’ War. (Routledge, 1987), 16-17.
24
Ibid, 17.
25
Donald K. McKim, The Cambridge Companion to Martin Luther. (Cambridge University Press, 2003), 273.
26
Gagliardo, Germany under the Old Regime, 14.
27
Wilson, Heart of Europe, 117.
28
Ibid, 116.
29
MacCulloch, The Reformation, 41.
30
Ibid 41.
31
Wilson, Heart of Europe, 120
32
Ibid, 122.
33
Peter Wilson, The Thirty Years’ War: Europe’s Tragedy, (Cambridge: Belknap Press, 2009), 45.
34
Ibid, 43.
35
MacCulloch, The Reformation, 472.
36
Parker, Thirty Years’ War, 18
37
Wilson, The Thirty Years War, 208.
38
Ibid, 208.
39
MacCulloch, The Reformation, 476.
40
Parker, Thirty Years’ War, 75.
41
MacCulloch, The Reformation, 480
42
Gagliardo, Germany UUnder the Old Regime, 54.
43
Wilson, Heart of Europe
44
MacCulloch, The Reformation, 482
45