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In between the Karlstadt-Luther split, a middle ground began to form in Protestantism. David Vinter, one of the correspondents and, now, coreligionists of Luther and Karlstadt, had taken it upon himself to begin preaching in his homeland of Denmark. What set Vinter apart from both Karlstadt and Luther was that, unlike Karlstadt, he believed the Protestant movement needed to be carried out by the middle and upper classes - transforming a Christian nation into a more godly society from the top down rather than vice versa, while serving to instruct the more “ignorant” classes - and, unlike Luther, Vinter believed that Imperial government violated the right of lords and that reconciliation with the Papists was impossible - any Protestant’s compromise with them would almost certainly require a violation of his or her conscience. These standpoints made Vinter’s particular brand of Protestantism much more palatable to the burghers, clergy, and nobility, while retaining the down-to-earth, uncompromising, fundamental-oriented exegesis that gave Protestantism its spiritual appeal. Beginning in 1518, Vinter had tremendous success in Denmark, and established a “Selskab for Kristne Breve” - a “Society of Christian Letters” - which wrote and printed a prodigious amount of proselytizing literature to be dispersed throughout Denmark and the cities of the Hanseatic League. Vinter would take up correspondence in turn with a number of leading Danish theologians, such as Hans Tausen, a monk from the monastery of Antvorskov, as well as the Pommeranian Johannes Bugenhagen, but the two most influential figures to lend their ears to Vinter were the bishops of Aarhus, Niels Clausen and his successor Ove Bille. Clausen had been bishop since 1490, and was consequently set in his ways, but he refused to jail Vinter despite his outspokenness. Bille was more conciliatory, discussing with Vinter what kind of society he hoped to achieve and his stances on the most important tenets of Christian doctrine. Bille was intrigued by Vinter’s belief in an organized clergy that no longer required a vow of chastity (and therefore also meant no more monasticism), as well as his (one might say) softening of “harder” Christian beliefs - such as the removal of the Sacrament of Reconciliation and a more “symbolicized” understanding of Holy Communion, with an emphasis on its communal aspect. Both Clausen and Bille (as well as the disinterest of Kings Christian II and Frederick I) protected Vinter for long enough to allow his teachings to disseminate sufficiently in Denmark for Frederick I to find himself waking up to a very different realm in the late 1520s.

Frederick I and the Danish nobility had already heard all the lurid details of the disastrous Bauernkrieg in Germany, and also had firsthand experience with such social upheaval when they were driven out of a peasants’ republic in Dithsmarchen at the battle of Hemmingstedt in 1500. Frederick I consulted his leading bishops and court theologians, and condemned any and all Protestant sects in 1525. However, Denmark was no Spain or Holy Roman Empire - there was no apparatus like the Inquisition, and the Danish bishops, while influential, were nowhere near as important to the legitimacy and administration of the monarchy. Despite his proclamation, Frederick I elected to do nothing about these “Vinteringer” (or Vinterans/Winterans, as they came to be known in English), partly due to the fact that Denmark had lost nearly one-third of its military age knights at the battle of Hemmingstedt, and now lacked the expansive nobility necessary to counter a large peasant uprising. When Frederick I died in 1528 (at the age of 57), and was succeeded by his 24 year old son, Christian III, the official state conversion to Protestantism was inevitable. The youth of Christian III and his rumored proclivity for Protestantism combined with fears of the cementing of a dynasty in Denmark’s elective monarchy to cause a revolt amongst the Catholic nobility. However, what seemed to be a sure victory for the Catholic opposition quickly turned into disintegration, as the Catholic nobility further distanced the burgher and peasant class with wanton brutality while Catholic zealots soured their cause with acts of unprovoked violence against Protestants, all of which prompted a wave of anti-Catholic fervor, filled with acts of iconoclasm and revenge killings, the chaos in which the monarchy found it very easy to ransack the realm’s monasteries. By 1532, a “state church” - the first of its kind - following Vinteran theology had been founded in Denmark: “Den Danske Kirke,” headed by a (non-celibate) “Kongelig Bispesæde,” a “Royal Episcopate” selected directly by the king. This was a landmark event: while there were several princes and polities that had already adopted Protestantism, Denmark was the first major Christian kingdom to formally adopt Protestantism as its official religion, and in doing so had also practically turned religion into a department of the state. The failure of Protestantism to revolutionize the Holy Roman Empire, its consequent weakening, and its resurgence in Denmark meant that it would begin to take on a distinctively Northern appearance. The diffusion of Protestant missionaries and tracts now came primarily from Nordic cities as opposed to German farms and villages, spreading to coasts and ports it had not yet been able to reach - in the Netherlands, Livonia, Pommerania, England, Scotland, and elsewhere. As the other Scandinavian countries followed quickly in Denmark’s steps, with Sweden forming its own church under the king Gustav I Vasa in 1533, and Norway and Finland - as they were subjects of Denmark and Sweden, respectively - following suit. Karlstadt’s exile in Norway had brought Protestantism to its vibrant maritime culture, which now imported its newfound faith into the North Sea at large.


Meanwhile, the German Protestants, still licking their wounds, were beginning to re-organize. The death of Maximilian I - an excellent arbitrator to some and a feared opponent to others - was of no comfort to either the Protestants or the Catholics of the Empire. However, while Philip IV was deemed “the Handsome” by contemporaries - implying he possibly inherited Maximilian’s stately stature - he was unable to project quite as much authority as his late father. Preferring French over German and spending the vast majority of his time in his native Netherlands, Philip IV - now, as Emperor, Philip I - supplied little confidence to his primarily German-speaking subjects, who were in desperate need of Imperial mediation. Philip the I & IV was not quite as incompetent as his detractors thought, while he lacked the same caliber of charisma as his father, the effectiveness of his rule in the Empire was greatly hampered by another war against the French (from 1524 to 1528). A number of Imperial princes used this temporary vacuum to continue their anti-Hapsburg designs, with Ernst I, Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg, John III, Duke of Cleves, and Henry V, Duke of Mecklenburg all converting (either out of genuine belief or acquiescence to their subjects) to Vinteran Protestantism by 1535 - while Frederick III, the elector of Saxony, his heir Johann, and Philip I, landgrave of Hesse, all formally announced their support for Luther and Scheurl (not necessarily belief in the entirety of their teachings, however) and demanded the Emperor attend to the Church’s much-needed reform. Luckily for the Hapsburgs, while Philip the Handsome might have neglected the outcry of his German princes, his attentiveness to the Netherlands worked a multitude of benefits: while possibly reducing his effective authority in the Netherlands by allowing the Estates more privileges, Philip is otherwise known as a just and clement ruler amongst the inhabitants of Belgium to this day, as was his wife, Juana, who was infatuated with her Burgundian husband, and would consequently be known to his subjects as “Juana the Faithful” (Jeanne la Fidèle/Johanna de Getrouw).



Louis XII was content to walk away with Savoy, his hegemony being untouched there and still very much in need of consolidation. But Louis XII was not king of France anymore. Having died in May of 1519 (aged 56), Louis XII passed the scepter to his only son, the 15 year old Charles IX. Luis XII had not endeavored to instruct his son in checking France’s aggressive activity against the capabilities of her enemies or the resolve of her people or (more importantly) her coffers - thus Charles IX grew up to be as pugnacious as any of his successors, and practically as soon as he felt comfortable on a horse he was leading an invasion of the Hapsburg possessions in the Franche-Comte and the Netherlands, while instructing Charles III, the Duke of Savoy, to begin organizing harrying activities into the duchy of Milan. On July 1st of 1524, the fourth war over Italy had begun. Unlike his father, Charles IX was not quite as caught up on the familial claim to Milan, and instead focused a good deal of his energies on attempting to seize territories which he felt were French by default (e.g. the remnants of the duchy of Burgundy), leading to this war’s oftentimes designation as the “Burgundian War.” This was a strategy that worked well for Charles IX, leading to a quick string of victories in Franche-Comte at Dole, Poligny, and (the most significant) Vesoul - wherein Charles IX personally led the charge, leaving 5,000 enemy troops dead and even succeeding in routing the feared Swiss pikemen. Nonetheless, Charles IX was still young and untested, failing to take Besançon when he had the chance, neglecting to send much-needed reinforcements to Artois, and never doing much of any consequence in Northern Italy, leaving the task almost entirely to his Venetian allies. Charles IX’s bombastic initial success ended - like each of the Italian Wars up to this point - in failure, with each front grinding to a halt and Charles IX only suing for peace in 1528 (long after any important action had taken place). Charles IX was lucky that the Hapsburgs had a very full plate at the time, as any aggressive action on their part would have ensured a French defeat, rather than the stalemate they received. Despite this disappointing and costly outing, Charles IX’s vigor for conquest had not abated. This was, in his eyes, an excellent opportunity to learn, and he would recoup his losses and try again in good time, yet the French lower classes increased their grumbling - Louis XII’s reforms could keep the realm afloat, but only for so long.