Fair enough.
Still, you can safely expect someone to cause trouble.
There seem to be a lot of Saxons in the armies of his enemies, for one cause or another.
"Now Blooms the Tudor Rose."
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Fair enough.
Still, you can safely expect someone to cause trouble.
There seem to be a lot of Saxons in the armies of his enemies, for one cause or another.
ThanksYou just made me choke on my cake.
Perhaps ITTL we won't have to put up with long chains of Louis in France?
R
I think so, since at least the Valois used names other than Louis. They preferred Charles, what with five of the ten kings named Charles coming from the Valois, and only two Valois kings were named Louis.
Assuming the Valois manage to survive. Which they may. Or they may not. I'm not telling.
Meanwhile--next update, prepare to enjoy the stirring end of the first Schmalkaldic War. It's got music in it!
Thespitron
I hesitate to ask what happened to 0001 to 5997.
Not to mention whether you have/had any younger brothers.Steve
Thespitron
I hesitate to ask what happened to 0001 to 5997.
Steve
They're presumably the previous generations.
Awesome it seems like the 9th Henry,its starting to flex abit of his regal muscle in his privy council meetings. Although he's only thirteen, if he gets his cunning from his mother and the libido of his father, It will make for a very interesting Tudor Court for the next five years till his majority. Keep it coming Space
Awesome it seems like the 9th Henry,its starting to flex abit of his regal muscle in his privy council meetings. Although he's only thirteen, if he gets his cunning from his mother and the libido of his father, It will make for a very interesting Tudor Court for the next five years till his majority. Keep it coming Space
Historico
Would it be five years? I thought they recognised the transfer to adulthood somewhat earlier?
Steve
From my understanding, things were a lot more fluid back then. It could be shorter, or longer, depending on all sorts of factors.
Okay, I read through about the first half of this. I like it, but I have some criticsms.
The one point at which I really gasped at the implausibility was Mary’s recognition of the King’s marriage to Anne. I understand you would want to do this to further the story but it’s just not going to happen. Mary recognising the marriage destroys the reputation of her mother, tacitly accepts all the slanders that were made against her, and incidentally destroys her own claim to the throne. She is essentially saying ‘I am a bastard child, and my mother was a liar.’ Sorry, but that’s not coming off, even if it’s not sincere, because even to do it insincerely but openly is to make a very big statement.
And if she’s facing beheading, so what? Her mother was prepared for it, so Mary would demand of herself that she be as well. Such is the destiny of holy Catholic martyrs; recognising the marriage is to perjure her soul, and that is more of a fear than death. But as it would be both diplomatic and domestic political suicide for Henry if he did it, I doubt Mary would be that worried – more likely is the prospect of being poisoned or done away with quietly, which the anti-court faction suspected had happened with Catherine. Which brings us onto:
It’s not impossible that Henry or Anne, or both, would move against Mary, but I doubt it. If Anne has sons, then she’s going to feel as secure as anyone married to Henry VIII humanly can be. However originally debatable the marriage of their mother to the King, people are not going to repudiate Anne’s sons in favour of Mary. (Least of all because it's treason) This is not an Elizabeth-Mary situation; this is a multiple male children-Mary situation. People – at least, lots of people in England - are going to conclude that, as you have pointed out, the King was basically right. Mary is a political threat, but not the serious one that Anne (rightly) concluded she was to Elizabeth IOTL. Nor is Mary a serious alternative source of power for the present, beyond ultra-Catholic fanatics, (who are not going to be concilliated at this stage whatever the king does) for the simple reason that her father lives.
Best bet here is to just a) leave her to grow beyond child-bearing age/wait for her to do something actually treasonable or b) actually poison her. A c) choice might be to suggest retirement to a nunnery, but I can't see her accepting that any more than Catherine did. Tbh I think that a regime of constant possibility of poisoning and political reverses would do wonders for destroying Mary's health and overall state of mind by itself.
And if Mary is recognised as a royal bastard, by her own admission, (and has therefore disclaimed her succession rights) why exactly would any non-Catholic want to marry her? Why would even any Catholic? Well, some well-off count or earl would love it for the prestige alone - but royalty?
I'm also a bit worried about Anne's deliveries ITTL. I'm not sure I accept the Rhesus Negative argument, but she had, what, three (? I think it was three, it may have been four though) miscarriages/stillbirths IOTL to one live birth. Whatever the reason, this doesn't augur well for the kind of flawless fecundity you have going on here.
Not sure how you take this in the second part, but I can see Henry tiring of Anne's bitchy political assertiveness at some stage as well. Not to the point of beheading or divorce, but estrangement and removal from political influence, yes. Anne loved making enemies - not least IOTL her own husband - and at some stage that would bite her in the arse.
Henry VIII's will specified that Edward VI would reach his majority at eighteen, but royal wills didn't have the force of law. Regencies were done on an ad hoc basis and ultimately Kings, being supreme, could declare their majority essentially when they wanted to. Henry VI declared himself of age when he was sixteen.
The one point at which I really gasped at the implausibility was Mary’s recognition of the King’s marriage to Anne. I understand you would want to do this to further the story but it’s just not going to happen. Mary recognising the marriage destroys the reputation of her mother, tacitly accepts all the slanders that were made against her, and incidentally destroys her own claim to the throne. She is essentially saying ‘I am a bastard child, and my mother was a liar.’ Sorry, but that’s not coming off, even if it’s not sincere, because even to do it insincerely but openly is to make a very big statement.
And if she’s facing beheading, so what? Her mother was prepared for it, so Mary would demand of herself that she be as well. Such is the destiny of holy Catholic martyrs; recognising the marriage is to perjure her soul, and that is more of a fear than death. But as it would be both diplomatic and domestic political suicide for Henry if he did it, I doubt Mary would be that worried – more likely is the prospect of being poisoned or done away with quietly, which the anti-court faction suspected had happened with Catherine. Which brings us onto:
It’s not impossible that Henry or Anne, or both, would move against Mary, but I doubt it. If Anne has sons, then she’s going to feel as secure as anyone married to Henry VIII humanly can be. However originally debatable the marriage of their mother to the King, people are not going to repudiate Anne’s sons in favour of Mary. (Least of all because it's treason) This is not an Elizabeth-Mary situation; this is a multiple male children-Mary situation. People – at least, lots of people in England - are going to conclude that, as you have pointed out, the King was basically right. Mary is a political threat, but not the serious one that Anne (rightly) concluded she was to Elizabeth IOTL. Nor is Mary a serious alternative source of power for the present, beyond ultra-Catholic fanatics, (who are not going to be concilliated at this stage whatever the king does) for the simple reason that her father lives.
Best bet here is to just a) leave her to grow beyond child-bearing age/wait for her to do something actually treasonable or b) actually poison her. A c) choice might be to suggest retirement to a nunnery, but I can't see her accepting that any more than Catherine did. Tbh I think that a regime of constant possibility of poisoning and political reverses would do wonders for destroying Mary's health and overall state of mind by itself.
And if Mary is recognised as a royal bastard, by her own admission, (and has therefore disclaimed her succession rights) why exactly would any non-Catholic want to marry her? Why would even any Catholic? Well, some well-off count or earl would love it for the prestige alone - but royalty?
I'm also a bit worried about Anne's deliveries ITTL. I'm not sure I accept the Rhesus Negative argument, but she had, what, three (? I think it was three, it may have been four though) miscarriages/stillbirths IOTL to one live birth. Whatever the reason, this doesn't augur well for the kind of flawless fecundity you have going on here.
Not sure how you take this in the second part, but I can see Henry tiring of Anne's bitchy political assertiveness at some stage as well. Not to the point of beheading or divorce, but estrangement and removal from political influence, yes. Anne loved making enemies - not least IOTL her own husband - and at some stage that would bite her in the arse.
Henry VIII's will specified that Edward VI would reach his majority at eighteen, but royal wills didn't have the force of law. Regencies were done on an ad hoc basis and ultimately Kings, being supreme, could declare their majority essentially when they wanted to. Henry VI declared himself of age when he was sixteen.
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Two confirmed miscarriages. Very likely stress-related. I could be fudging things here. Or not. It's all speculation on our part.
As for Mary's acceptance--she did in fact publicly accept her status as illegitimate in the end IOTL--admittedly, Anne was dead and Elizabeth illegimate as well at the time, which probably softened in the blow--to threats from Henry that were slightly less severe, but still included the possibility of getting killed. Popular as it is to see her as a Catholic fanatic even Mary Tudor was human in the end. As for who would want her as a marriage--people were looking at Mary as a marriage connection IOTL despite the fact that she was still not in the line of succession. Finally, as to her as a threat to the succession of this Henry IX. I do intend that reaction to have an element of panic in it--but another thing to remember is that things that seem cut-and-dried to us seemed less so to people at the time. No one is going to accept a queen regnant over a king. Unless they do.
Finally, just to make it obvious--this is a story I'm telling, and while I'm trying to stay within the boundaries of the plausible, those boundaries are shifting lines, especially in areas like this. All I can hope is that if some feel I am over the line, I never step TOO over it in their eyes.
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More Catholic, and less human, than you're suggesting in this instance. She only consented after being assured by Charles, through Chapuys, that she would be given papal absolution for signing up to Henry's political settlement against her will. I.E, she had a specific spiritiual get-out-clause for doing what she did - and even then, she apparently never forgave herself for doing so. It doesn't seem to have had anything to do with what were actually relatively mild threats of violence, (all I can remember was the Duke of Norfolk saying he would have boxed her ears if he had been King, correct me if I'm wrong) it was specifically based on her partisans advising her to take that course after the fall of Anne, and when there was a favourable diplomatic situation between Charles and Henry. Now, you have appaling relations between the Empire and England here at the time, so why would Marian partisans be advising her to submit? No - more likely they'd be advising her to resist absolutely, with the slight hope, at the back of their minds, that Henry does do something politically stupid to her.
This is what makes this situation specific, and sets it apart from her OTL post-Anne reconcillation (which I do regard as another signifigant factor here; IOTL she did not recognise Anne's marriage, she simply recognised that her mother's was invalid and Henry was Supreme Head) - Mary has absolutely no spiritual wiggle-room on this, and the political stars just aren't aligned to advise her otherwise. This is pure, unmitigated self-defeat for Mary. This is waving the white flag and giving up the field of battle to the King's Whore, with the nigh-on certainty of hellfire in the process. And I don't think the daughter of Henry and Catherine does that.
You're doing great so far, on the whole.
You've clearly got a good grip of this era, and I'm hoping for more.
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Believe me, I debated the matter myself. In the end, it's a tough call, especially as it involves so many odd variables--how willing is Charles to let Mary die? How emotionally battered is Mary at any given moment? I went with what I thought worked.
You're doing great so far, on the whole.
Well, thank you.
1547
--The Life of Luther is published in Germany. It paints Luther's life, theology, and struggle in glowing terms, and is dedicated by Philip Melanchthon to John Frederick, "our Joshua." Needless to say, it quickly spreads over Germany encouraging Protestant hearts. Many feel that they shall soon see the triumph of Lutheranism over Catholicism. Others worry that the sect will be crushed. But everyone is very engaged.
--The Earl of Lennox opens the year by becoming a father to twins--two boys, named Henry and Charles Stewart. Henry, seeming to realize the awful inconvience he poses to both Stuart and Tudor lines, obligingly dies a few days after his birth. Charles Stewart on the other hand, demonstrates what a troublemaker he's going to be by insisting on living. It is the beginning of a tremendously bothersome career.[1]
The birth of Charles Stewart is not the only event of note in Scotland--the factional skirmishing is continuing with increasing intensity especially between Arran and Lennox, each of whom charges the other with wrongdoing, and being the plaything of foreign powers. Both are right, naturally, which makes the whole thing worse. (Arran is actually having a foreign title dangled in front of him by the Imperial ambassador, though he hasn't actually gotten it yet.) [2] The situation is tense.
--In London, the Convocation carries on, and to Cramner's pleasure, people seem to be a great deal in favor of a more Protestant direction. Norfolk in particular is increasingly sympathetic to the Reform, his general hostility to the Papacy having been the doorway to further innovations. This is very good news--as goes Norfolk, goes much of the Peerage. Largely because he terrifies people. But still, clerical marriage is a-go, with quite a few other Protestant reforms on their way. The Church of England is starting to stake out its place--moderately Lutheran, with a pinch of Calvinism, and a certain amount of Catholic dress-up.
--The Irish matter continues to be a matter of major interest. A military expedition is prepared for Ireland to assist the Lord Deputy--among its officers are Cromwell's son's in-laws, the Seymours. Anne is more interested in the Reformation in Ireland, which she discovers is being very badly done. An entire church whose upper orders are foreigners, and whose members are being preached to in a foreign language? That seems almost--papist. In addition, while their loyalty to the Holy See is debatable, most Irish were exceptionally fond of their monastic tradition, which under Henry VIII's aegis was bludgeoned painfully to death. Much nostalgia for the Church is for that, not the Pope, though he is at the moment the major beneficiary from it. But not the only one--Anne herself is surprisingly popular due to her support of the Queen's Hospitals and Schools, which many Irish take as a sign of secret sympathy to their plight. (They don't like the schools that much, mind you, but they enjoy the intent.) Anne decides to exploit that, and try to create a NATIVE Irish Reformation. And so--there will be a Gaelic Bible printed! This will require the Bible to be translated to Gaelic, and a printing press created that can print Gaelic--but these are small prices to pay for spreading the True Faith! She also comissions the translation and publication of Protestant theology tracts into Gaelic. Much of the work ironically will be done by ex-monks, but most of them are happy to get the extra cash.
--In France, Henri and Catherine have another son--Charles.[3] The young prince is hunchbacked, with a clubfoot--but he's still a French Prince of the Blood. This is a relief. Dauphine Francois may be young, but his health is proving somewhat suspect. An extra heir is always nice, even if he is hunchbacked.
--The Imperial army sets out to face John Frederick's forces. However, before it can do so, it finds itself facing a vicious attack from rallying Schmalkaldic League forces. This attack is lead by a member who has in fact stayed out of the war until now--the nominally Catholic Joachim, Elector of Brandenburg. A closet Lutheran, he has been long torn between his loyalty to the Empire and his loyalty to his faith, but the Emperor's increasingly explicit anti-Protestant bent in the war has, to his mind, forced his hand. And that is not all--many Protestant princes not even in the League join in this attack, including Duke Maurice and his friend Duke Albert. Maurice's motives are close to Joachim's, coupled with a burning need to redeem himself--many Protestant Princes view him as a Judas--and a feeling that he has been used by the Emperor.[4] Maurice was fine with a move against his hated cousin, but the actions against his father-in-law and dear friend Philip of Hesse have enraged him. The attack is repulsed, the Schmalkaldic League troops retreating. Casualties are high on both sides, and include men of rank--Duke Maurice is among those killed, as is Charles' nephew, Maximilian.[5] While the attack cannot be called a success, it has managed to take the initiative away from the Imperial army, allowing John Frederick's force more time to prepare. The upcoming clash between their armies will be more even than Charles would like.
--In Scotland, the recently-released Cardinal Beaton attempts to engineer a meeting between Lennox and Arran at St. Andrews Cathedral where the two will iron out their differences. Beaton has long viewed himself as the rightful leader of the Catholics--in fact, he views himself as rightful Regent, which is why he wound up imprisoned by Arran for the last few years. He's been forced to sit by and watch as the situation went very much to his distaste, while first one side then the other picked up, then dropped the matter of his release. (Arran has finally given it to him with significant strings attached.) Beaton hopes that by getting Lennox and Arran to see reason and unite, he can then make Marie of Guise see sense, and then--AULD ALLIANCE AHOY! Needless to say, things do not go according to plan.
In fact, they go VERY not according to plan, as is discovered when the sounds of screams and curses bring people to the Cathedral. What they find is a bloodbath. Beaton is dead. Lennox is dead. Arran is wounded and dying. And there are a small crowd of people in these two states, who are for the most part, somewhat less important.
Exactly what happened is... hard to make out, but from the story of a few dying witnesses, Arran and Lennox both brought armed guards to the meeting, and then--well, somebody did something, and suddenly, Arran and Lennox started accusing each other of planning something untoward, at which point all hell broke loose. So runs the official version, anyway. Some aren't so sure Arran and Lennox were so obliging as to neatly kill each other, while considerately taking Beaton out with them. They think a third party arranged a massacre. Just who is subject to debate. Maybe Marie of Guise, who has now had all her opponents conveniantly eliminated. Maybe the English, who are roughly in the same boat. This opinion does not seem to be shared by either Marie or England, both of whom actually suspect the other of having a hand in this. They both prefered having Arran and Lennox running around, weakening each other--dead Catholics have a way of becoming martyrs and rallying points. Marie of Guise--whose alliance with English interests, remember, has always been one of conveniance--begins to back away. Aside from the atmosphere of mutual suspicion, she now thinks she has a good chance of getting a French alliance WHILE keeping good relations with England. And that is the best possible outcome to her mind.
--The forces of Charles, under the leadership of the Duke of Alba, and John Frederick clash in Coburg. (Charles, despite his gout, is present on the battlefield, though he of course, takes no part in the actual fighting.) The battle is fierce. Alba is the better commander, with a larger army, and arguably better troops--but John Frederick is competent, his troops are fresh, and they are fighting on their home ground. The result is neither the rout of the Elector's forces Charles hoped for, nor the righteous thrashing of the Emperor some Protestants wished for, but a stalemate. As evening falls, the Elector's troops, overjoyed at having survived everything the Emperor has thrown at them, begin to sing 'A Mighty Fortress Is Our God'. Charles, hearing them, is said to have burst into tears, and declared loudly to his entourage 'What can be done to such men?' Charles is exhausted by his wars. Despite his successes, the Protestant Princes seem to be no closer to defeat as a whole--indeed, he is watching men who were allied to him when the war began turn on him. His finances are a mess, even by his standards, and he is increasingly worried about being caught unprepared for a future conflict with France. He can destroy the Elector, he knows--but doing so would likely destroy him. Emissaries are sent to the Elector. John Frederick, as eager to end the fighting as Charles, agrees to a truce. The next day, seated on their horses--a painful act for Charles, but one he views as necessary--Emperor and Elector meet and pledge the peace. The first Schmalkaldic War is over. The Imperial army has won every battle it fought but one, which was not a defeat--and yet that was the one where a clear victory was absolutely needed.
--The Council of Mantua watches the end of the war with alarm. Luther's little schism has grown in force and power so that even the Holy Roman Emperor is forced to deal with them. This is a problem, even if neither Pope Paul, or most of his fellow council members can be called fans of Emperor Charles. The need to make it clear that Luther's followers are wrong, wrong, WRONG has become even more evident...
------------------------------------------
[1] Yes, it's TTL's Darnley. Though he's never going to get that title.
[2] IOTL, it was the French doing the dangling--and Arran got it. Then lost it after one of his customary about-faces.
[3] IOTL, this was daughter, Claude. Though the poor girl still had a hunchback and a clubfoot.
[4] Maurice turned against Charles for similar reasons--with a few others--at a later date IOTL.
[5] Yes, this is THAT Maximilian. He actually served with his uncle's troops during the Italian War, and the Schmalkaldic War IOTL. Needless to say, this is a big deal--from our point of view.
--The Life of Luther is published in Germany. It paints Luther's life, theology, and struggle in glowing terms, and is dedicated by Philip Melanchthon to John Frederick, "our Joshua." Needless to say, it quickly spreads over Germany encouraging Protestant hearts. Many feel that they shall soon see the triumph of Lutheranism over Catholicism. Others worry that the sect will be crushed. But everyone is very engaged.
--The Earl of Lennox opens the year by becoming a father to twins--two boys, named Henry and Charles Stewart. Henry, seeming to realize the awful inconvience he poses to both Stuart and Tudor lines, obligingly dies a few days after his birth. Charles Stewart on the other hand, demonstrates what a troublemaker he's going to be by insisting on living. It is the beginning of a tremendously bothersome career.[1]
The birth of Charles Stewart is not the only event of note in Scotland--the factional skirmishing is continuing with increasing intensity especially between Arran and Lennox, each of whom charges the other with wrongdoing, and being the plaything of foreign powers. Both are right, naturally, which makes the whole thing worse. (Arran is actually having a foreign title dangled in front of him by the Imperial ambassador, though he hasn't actually gotten it yet.) [2] The situation is tense.
--In London, the Convocation carries on, and to Cramner's pleasure, people seem to be a great deal in favor of a more Protestant direction. Norfolk in particular is increasingly sympathetic to the Reform, his general hostility to the Papacy having been the doorway to further innovations. This is very good news--as goes Norfolk, goes much of the Peerage. Largely because he terrifies people. But still, clerical marriage is a-go, with quite a few other Protestant reforms on their way. The Church of England is starting to stake out its place--moderately Lutheran, with a pinch of Calvinism, and a certain amount of Catholic dress-up.
--The Irish matter continues to be a matter of major interest. A military expedition is prepared for Ireland to assist the Lord Deputy--among its officers are Cromwell's son's in-laws, the Seymours. Anne is more interested in the Reformation in Ireland, which she discovers is being very badly done. An entire church whose upper orders are foreigners, and whose members are being preached to in a foreign language? That seems almost--papist. In addition, while their loyalty to the Holy See is debatable, most Irish were exceptionally fond of their monastic tradition, which under Henry VIII's aegis was bludgeoned painfully to death. Much nostalgia for the Church is for that, not the Pope, though he is at the moment the major beneficiary from it. But not the only one--Anne herself is surprisingly popular due to her support of the Queen's Hospitals and Schools, which many Irish take as a sign of secret sympathy to their plight. (They don't like the schools that much, mind you, but they enjoy the intent.) Anne decides to exploit that, and try to create a NATIVE Irish Reformation. And so--there will be a Gaelic Bible printed! This will require the Bible to be translated to Gaelic, and a printing press created that can print Gaelic--but these are small prices to pay for spreading the True Faith! She also comissions the translation and publication of Protestant theology tracts into Gaelic. Much of the work ironically will be done by ex-monks, but most of them are happy to get the extra cash.
--In France, Henri and Catherine have another son--Charles.[3] The young prince is hunchbacked, with a clubfoot--but he's still a French Prince of the Blood. This is a relief. Dauphine Francois may be young, but his health is proving somewhat suspect. An extra heir is always nice, even if he is hunchbacked.
--The Imperial army sets out to face John Frederick's forces. However, before it can do so, it finds itself facing a vicious attack from rallying Schmalkaldic League forces. This attack is lead by a member who has in fact stayed out of the war until now--the nominally Catholic Joachim, Elector of Brandenburg. A closet Lutheran, he has been long torn between his loyalty to the Empire and his loyalty to his faith, but the Emperor's increasingly explicit anti-Protestant bent in the war has, to his mind, forced his hand. And that is not all--many Protestant princes not even in the League join in this attack, including Duke Maurice and his friend Duke Albert. Maurice's motives are close to Joachim's, coupled with a burning need to redeem himself--many Protestant Princes view him as a Judas--and a feeling that he has been used by the Emperor.[4] Maurice was fine with a move against his hated cousin, but the actions against his father-in-law and dear friend Philip of Hesse have enraged him. The attack is repulsed, the Schmalkaldic League troops retreating. Casualties are high on both sides, and include men of rank--Duke Maurice is among those killed, as is Charles' nephew, Maximilian.[5] While the attack cannot be called a success, it has managed to take the initiative away from the Imperial army, allowing John Frederick's force more time to prepare. The upcoming clash between their armies will be more even than Charles would like.
--In Scotland, the recently-released Cardinal Beaton attempts to engineer a meeting between Lennox and Arran at St. Andrews Cathedral where the two will iron out their differences. Beaton has long viewed himself as the rightful leader of the Catholics--in fact, he views himself as rightful Regent, which is why he wound up imprisoned by Arran for the last few years. He's been forced to sit by and watch as the situation went very much to his distaste, while first one side then the other picked up, then dropped the matter of his release. (Arran has finally given it to him with significant strings attached.) Beaton hopes that by getting Lennox and Arran to see reason and unite, he can then make Marie of Guise see sense, and then--AULD ALLIANCE AHOY! Needless to say, things do not go according to plan.
In fact, they go VERY not according to plan, as is discovered when the sounds of screams and curses bring people to the Cathedral. What they find is a bloodbath. Beaton is dead. Lennox is dead. Arran is wounded and dying. And there are a small crowd of people in these two states, who are for the most part, somewhat less important.
Exactly what happened is... hard to make out, but from the story of a few dying witnesses, Arran and Lennox both brought armed guards to the meeting, and then--well, somebody did something, and suddenly, Arran and Lennox started accusing each other of planning something untoward, at which point all hell broke loose. So runs the official version, anyway. Some aren't so sure Arran and Lennox were so obliging as to neatly kill each other, while considerately taking Beaton out with them. They think a third party arranged a massacre. Just who is subject to debate. Maybe Marie of Guise, who has now had all her opponents conveniantly eliminated. Maybe the English, who are roughly in the same boat. This opinion does not seem to be shared by either Marie or England, both of whom actually suspect the other of having a hand in this. They both prefered having Arran and Lennox running around, weakening each other--dead Catholics have a way of becoming martyrs and rallying points. Marie of Guise--whose alliance with English interests, remember, has always been one of conveniance--begins to back away. Aside from the atmosphere of mutual suspicion, she now thinks she has a good chance of getting a French alliance WHILE keeping good relations with England. And that is the best possible outcome to her mind.
--The forces of Charles, under the leadership of the Duke of Alba, and John Frederick clash in Coburg. (Charles, despite his gout, is present on the battlefield, though he of course, takes no part in the actual fighting.) The battle is fierce. Alba is the better commander, with a larger army, and arguably better troops--but John Frederick is competent, his troops are fresh, and they are fighting on their home ground. The result is neither the rout of the Elector's forces Charles hoped for, nor the righteous thrashing of the Emperor some Protestants wished for, but a stalemate. As evening falls, the Elector's troops, overjoyed at having survived everything the Emperor has thrown at them, begin to sing 'A Mighty Fortress Is Our God'. Charles, hearing them, is said to have burst into tears, and declared loudly to his entourage 'What can be done to such men?' Charles is exhausted by his wars. Despite his successes, the Protestant Princes seem to be no closer to defeat as a whole--indeed, he is watching men who were allied to him when the war began turn on him. His finances are a mess, even by his standards, and he is increasingly worried about being caught unprepared for a future conflict with France. He can destroy the Elector, he knows--but doing so would likely destroy him. Emissaries are sent to the Elector. John Frederick, as eager to end the fighting as Charles, agrees to a truce. The next day, seated on their horses--a painful act for Charles, but one he views as necessary--Emperor and Elector meet and pledge the peace. The first Schmalkaldic War is over. The Imperial army has won every battle it fought but one, which was not a defeat--and yet that was the one where a clear victory was absolutely needed.
--The Council of Mantua watches the end of the war with alarm. Luther's little schism has grown in force and power so that even the Holy Roman Emperor is forced to deal with them. This is a problem, even if neither Pope Paul, or most of his fellow council members can be called fans of Emperor Charles. The need to make it clear that Luther's followers are wrong, wrong, WRONG has become even more evident...
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[1] Yes, it's TTL's Darnley. Though he's never going to get that title.
[2] IOTL, it was the French doing the dangling--and Arran got it. Then lost it after one of his customary about-faces.
[3] IOTL, this was daughter, Claude. Though the poor girl still had a hunchback and a clubfoot.
[4] Maurice turned against Charles for similar reasons--with a few others--at a later date IOTL.
[5] Yes, this is THAT Maximilian. He actually served with his uncle's troops during the Italian War, and the Schmalkaldic War IOTL. Needless to say, this is a big deal--from our point of view.
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It's a big deal, since that means Ferdinand of Bohemia's heir would be OTL Ferdinand II of Austria, right?
Space Oddity
Well both Scotland and Germany continued to be a mess, although the bloody mutual annihilation in Scotland could cause problems for England if the country unites under a possibly hostile leader.
With Germany it sounds like Charles could find himself trying to be the force of moderate, straddled between the Protestant lords and an earlier and possibly more desperate counter-reformation. I'm wondering what is happening in other areas where the reformation made progress before being rolled back, Hungary, Poland etc. Also how the French Huguenot are doing? OTL things got pretty bloody in France about this period over religion.
Anne's ideas on Ireland could be very influential. Not likely to make the Irish happy with English rule but could take a lot of the venom out of things. This of course assumes its successful and it could easily prompt a very strong reaction if they start getting a lot of converts. I love the "An entire church whose upper orders are foreigners, and whose members are being preached to in a foreign language? That seems almost--papist"
Steve
Well both Scotland and Germany continued to be a mess, although the bloody mutual annihilation in Scotland could cause problems for England if the country unites under a possibly hostile leader.
With Germany it sounds like Charles could find himself trying to be the force of moderate, straddled between the Protestant lords and an earlier and possibly more desperate counter-reformation. I'm wondering what is happening in other areas where the reformation made progress before being rolled back, Hungary, Poland etc. Also how the French Huguenot are doing? OTL things got pretty bloody in France about this period over religion.
Anne's ideas on Ireland could be very influential. Not likely to make the Irish happy with English rule but could take a lot of the venom out of things. This of course assumes its successful and it could easily prompt a very strong reaction if they start getting a lot of converts. I love the "An entire church whose upper orders are foreigners, and whose members are being preached to in a foreign language? That seems almost--papist"
Steve
1548
--The Council of Mantua issues its first decrees, a withering rejection of the precepts of Lutheranism that have in fact been held back to make them as combative as possible. It also sets forth a program to handle church corruption. Having done this, Pope Paul then proceeds to spend his time on his other major interest, indeed, one he feels he's neglected for too long of late--furthering his family's interests in Italian politics. This does undercut the entire 'handle church corruption' issue, but Paul seems fairly oblivious to this.
--England, France and Scotland unveil a web of marriage alliances that it is hoped will keep everybody happy. King Henry IX will wed the Princess Elizabeth Valois when she comes of age. Queen Mary Stuart will wed the Prince Charles Valois when they both come of age. Thus the three nations shall all be tied to one another, while simultaneously avoiding any messy personal unions, to the satisfaction of all, and disappointment of none--in theory. True, there are a few rough patches, such as the fact that aside from Henry, all these children have ages in the single digits. But this is nobility. It's how things go. Anne in particular is thrilled that her long-standing dream to wed her son to a French princess is coming true. Others are less thrilled.
--For Henri II of France, the marriage contract with England is all part of the ongoing prepartions for the next conflict with the Hapsburgs. (The one he hopes will settle who's the Duke of Milan good and proper.) While France's position in Italy is probably the strongest it's been in decades, the fact remains they've watched all this slip from their hands before. Indeed, after watching the end of the Schmalkaldic war, Henri has been alternating between kicking himself for letting a golden opportunity escape, and reminding himself that France needed an opportunity to replenish its resources. This sort of inner conflict is pretty much par for the course for Henri, a man whose pragmatic nature is often at odds with his romantic upbringing. His influential mistress, Diane de Poitiers, doesn't help this--she regularly steers him towards grandiose projects, and away from the practical steps needed to achieve them. Henri realizes that the good will of England, Denmark and Germany's Protestant Princes is essential for a victory against the Hapsburg Empire, and that means acting as the more tolerant major Catholic monarch. And yet this rankles him--and Diane encourages this rancor, bidding Henri to take a harder line with France's growing Calvinist population, commonly referred to as the Huguenots. And there is another aspect to this religious struggle--the rivalry of the Guise and the Bourbons. Relative newcomers to the French political scene, the Guises have staked out a place for themselves as defenders of the Catholic orthodoxy--the Bourbons, old Princes of the Blood, are heavily inclined towards the cause of Reform. All of this is going to get very unpleasant in the future. But that is the future. For the present, Henri is a relative moderate--he has reopened a court on heresy, but as yet, this seems to be little more than a sop to the Papacy. As yet.
--At the next Reichstag, Emperor Charles and the Schmalkaldic League create a little something called the Peace of Augsburg, an agreement that will allow Protestant Princes to be Protestant Princes. It also allows the Schmalkaldic League to still exist, on the understanding that it won't be actively pursuing treachery anymore, by say, allying with foreign nations. Of course, Charles doesn't expect that proviso to be honored that much--the Holy Roman Empire of the Germans has a centuries-old tradition of backstabbing to continue, after all--but it will hopefully keep things under some semblance of control. Charles cannot be said to be that thrilled by the whole thing, but it is, he hopes, the framework to peaceable coexistance with the Lutherans, who he now knows are not going to curl up and die simply because he wants them to. His brother Ferdinand is also less thrilled--he's less doctrinaire than Charles, but he lost his beloved eldest son in this war, and he naturally blames the League. As he is presently the King of the Romans and thus, heir presumptive to the title of Holy Roman Emperor, this will prove a problem in the future. But even he knows that there is little that can be done--Protestants are everywhere--indeed their prevalence in Ferdinand's kingdoms are one reason why he wasn't able to mount an effective military response to the Elector. For the moment, the brothers agree that this is a peace that, if it doesn't pry victory from the jaws of defeat, pries acceptable loss from the jaws of total disaster, which is almost as good.
Sadly, one person does not agree with them. Pope Paul angrily denounces the agreement, and refuses to accept it. Heretics, he states, are to be fought until they are defeated. While this has limited direct effect--both Charles and Ferdinand signal everyone that they consider the deal to be in effect, even if the Pope is having a hissy--it does help make everything just a tad more tense throughout the Empire. Still, Paul is an old man. He probably won't be around much longer, and the next Pope will probably prove more reasonable. Hopefully.
--In other Hapsburg news, Ferdinand's second son, Ferdinand II, finds himself forced to take up his brother's place in all sorts of things--he not only finds himself sent to Spain to govern it in his uncle's place, as Charles had planned to have Maximillian do, but he winds up marrying his brother's betrothed, Charles' daughter Maria, as well. He is less than pleased with all this, but he's a Hapsburg. You do what you have to for the family's sake.
While this is going on, Charles broaches the idea of his son Philip succeeding him as Holy Roman Emperor to his brother. Ferdinand does not take it well--he views the position as promised to him--and Charles drops the matter, though it does result in a certain level of bitterness between the brothers. Meanwhile, in an effort to prepare his son for rule--and also get him to get out of the funk his wife's death has caused--Charles has Philip come to govern the Duchy of Burgundy. It does not go well--the Burgundians, Dutch, Wallonian, and Flemish alike find the austere, Spanish-speaking and incredibly narrow-minded Philip... rather unsettling.
--While walking about on government business, Thomas Cromwell suddenly keels over, dying of a heart attack. This makes Anne miss her dearly-departed brother George more intensely--with her old foe/ally Cromwell gone, she has lost her strongest supporter on the Council outside of Paulet, the bastion of opportunism. Cromwell's son Gregory is a member, true, but he is a charming nonentity, in no way capable of taking his father's place. And Anne's position is less sure than it would appear. In the immediate aftermath of her husband's death, the Council was willing to accept her, partially because of a need for strong leadership, and partially because they were used to her. But now things are settling down, and people are starting to rankle. Anne can be abrasive at times, after all. This was not a problem when they needed someone capable of calming down Henry VIII during one of his bad moments, such as the time when he apparently thought England was still in the League of Cambrai, and wondered why they weren't attacking France. But now that's not an issue, and every man who thinks he should be the big man on the Council is starting to bristle. And they aren't alone. Henry IX may only be fourteen, with a fifteenth birthday fast approaching, but he is an exceptionally clever young boy. He is beginning to strike out on his own, and much as he loves his mother, he resents being seen as under her thumb. Anne realizes she may have to step down from the Council earlier than she expected to...
--Turning to the Schmalkaldic League--its mood is celebrant. Closet Lutherans--like Elector Joachim--are becoming open Lutherans. Protestant Princes who refused to join are now begging for admission. William, Duke of Bavaria, who's long had Lutheran sympathies, joins the faith--though this involves politics as much as religion. (Simply put, William suspects that it may prove more important for his family to stay on the Wettins' good side than the Hapsburgs' in the near future.) Yes, things are looking up. Or are they? *dramatic music sting*
John Frederick has naturally emerged the big winner from the war--he has expanded his holdings considerably, and even recieved the Emperor's blessing to do so, in return for agreeing to support the Hapsburg candidate following the end of Charles' reign and giving up any claim to Gelre. Indeed, the late Maurice's side of the family have been downgraded to the mere Dukes of Saxe-Weisenfals. (Presently, as Maurice left only a young daughter behind, the position has passed to his younger brother, Augustus.) Further, John Frederick's eldest son, John Frederick, is now betrothed to England's Princess Elizabeth in a move to connect two of Europe's most prominent Protestant families. The Ernestine line of Wessen is well on its way to become the unofficial head of the Empire's Protestant nobles. And that is what the Emperor is hoping for. Charles has long been the victim of the German Princes crabpot nature, and frankly he wants to spread the love. As he hasn't been able to peel the Elector down, he's decided he'll just help him puff up, and then let nature take its course.
And it's working. John Frederick has come out of the war with two fixed ideas--that the Schmalkaldic League needs to reform if it is to remain an effective counterweight to Imperial might, and that he is its essential man. Needless to say, neither belief, no matter how justified, endears him to his fellows. In addition the League is burdened by old dynastic rivalries. The Wettins and the Hohenzollerns have long competed with each other for influence--indeed, that competition wound up inadvertantly jumpstarting up the Reformation. While they're getting used to working on the same side now, it's an uneasy alliance at the best of times. Then there's the House of Hesse--Philip is feeling somewhat resentful at being eclipsed by John Frederick and is thus making himself into something of an unofficial leader of the opposition. And then John Frederick makes matters worse by picking a fight with Philip Melanchthon.
It all comes down to the the Real Presence. While Luther didn't believe in transubstantiation--that is that the priest more or less transforms the substance of the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ--he did believe that the body and blood are there--somehow--and saw Zwingli and Calvin's denial of this as fanatical. Melanchthon came to disagree with him on this, but kept quiet while his teacher lived to keep the peace. But since Luther's death, he's moved to bring the Lutheran faith somewhat closer to the rest of Protestantism. Unfortunately for him, John Frederick doesn't appreciate this. John Frederick's brand of Protestantism always included just a dose of hero worship for Luther, and thus he does not react well to what he sees as an attack on the great man's works when Luther is no longer able to defend them. There is a political element to this as well--John Frederick is hoping to make sure the Peace holds, and he feels the Lutheran Church becoming LESS Catholic isn't the best way to do this. Besides, this sounds suspiciously like an effort to bring in Calvinism into the church through the backdoor. It starts with suggesting that the Lord's Supper is largely symbolic--it ends with proclaiming kooky doctrines like the nonexistance of free will, or God's chosen elect.
The argument continues throughout the year, with Melanchthon cursing the stubborness of the man who he was painting in near-Messianic terms only recently, and John Frederick muttering about that damned priest. Finally, Melanchthon threatens to resign from his position at Wittenberg University. John Frederick accepts his resignation. Though none realize it at the time, this "little matter" is going to cause the League a great deal of trouble in the years ahead.
--In Scotland, most of the Catholic opposition retires to their respective corners. They're weak, disorientated, and leaderless--with Arran, Lennox, and Beaton gone, they've lost any strong unifying figures outside of Marie of Guise, who of course, wants everyone to just get along. But they're not out of people who think they could be such a figure, and those folks are quietly duking it out, with, as per usual for Scotland, a lot of old feuds starting up again. The Protestants are also less than thrilled by the deal--some feel that England has sold them out--but many understand at least some of the reasoning behind it, and hope that the knowledge that they have England's backing will keep Marie of Guise from attempting a Counter-Reformation. Meanwhile, rumors continue to circulate about the Bloody Night, with various nobles being placed as the third--or rather fourth--party who actually did the deed. Archibald Douglas, the Earl of Angus, is a popular choice--while he was Lennox's father-in-law, he is a notably self-serving, unscrupulous man. Young James Hamilton, the new Earl of Arran, hears these stories, and is profoundly affected by them, though he is unable to do anything at the moment--the English Ambassador also hears them, but dismisses them. Angus, he writes the Council, is an old, tired man more interested in the pretty young wife he recently married than politics these days. Still, this shows how things stand in Scotland. It's not horrifically violent at the moment, but it's a nasty and unstable powderkeg with rumors flying everywhere and people on edge.
--England's Convocation comes to an end. It has been, on the whole, a triumph for Cramner, the primary author of England's new Forty-Three Articles of the Faith, which place the country's church firmly in the Protestant camp. True, he had to scale back some articles to gain the approval of the more conservative members--personally, he considers the compromise on saints he made a little dubious--but on the whole, he is justly proud of it. It is also something of a feather in John Frederick's cap--the Church of England's formulation of the Last Supper is pretty much a gloss on Luther's stance. Yes, everybody's a winner--except for England's Catholics, but by this stage in the game, most people assume they've learnt their lesson.
--In Poland, King Sigismund the Old dies early in the year. The throne passes to his son Sigismund Augustus. At his first Sejm, the king faces a challenge from a group of deputies who call for him to renounce his wife, Barbara Radizwell. Sigismund refuses, setting up a lengthy fight over Barbara's coronation as Queen. This matter is more than simply the Sejm feeling slighted by a prince's hasty marriage--Barbara's family are major Lithuanian magnates, and Protestants to boot. (Barbara herself is Catholic, but sympathetic to reform.) Many Poles distrust such a family gaining ready access to the throne. In addition, the Hapsburgs have quite a bit of pull in the Sejm, and their distrust of the Radizwells is if anything even deeper. And so, by the end of the year, battle lines are set...
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--The Council of Mantua issues its first decrees, a withering rejection of the precepts of Lutheranism that have in fact been held back to make them as combative as possible. It also sets forth a program to handle church corruption. Having done this, Pope Paul then proceeds to spend his time on his other major interest, indeed, one he feels he's neglected for too long of late--furthering his family's interests in Italian politics. This does undercut the entire 'handle church corruption' issue, but Paul seems fairly oblivious to this.
--England, France and Scotland unveil a web of marriage alliances that it is hoped will keep everybody happy. King Henry IX will wed the Princess Elizabeth Valois when she comes of age. Queen Mary Stuart will wed the Prince Charles Valois when they both come of age. Thus the three nations shall all be tied to one another, while simultaneously avoiding any messy personal unions, to the satisfaction of all, and disappointment of none--in theory. True, there are a few rough patches, such as the fact that aside from Henry, all these children have ages in the single digits. But this is nobility. It's how things go. Anne in particular is thrilled that her long-standing dream to wed her son to a French princess is coming true. Others are less thrilled.
--For Henri II of France, the marriage contract with England is all part of the ongoing prepartions for the next conflict with the Hapsburgs. (The one he hopes will settle who's the Duke of Milan good and proper.) While France's position in Italy is probably the strongest it's been in decades, the fact remains they've watched all this slip from their hands before. Indeed, after watching the end of the Schmalkaldic war, Henri has been alternating between kicking himself for letting a golden opportunity escape, and reminding himself that France needed an opportunity to replenish its resources. This sort of inner conflict is pretty much par for the course for Henri, a man whose pragmatic nature is often at odds with his romantic upbringing. His influential mistress, Diane de Poitiers, doesn't help this--she regularly steers him towards grandiose projects, and away from the practical steps needed to achieve them. Henri realizes that the good will of England, Denmark and Germany's Protestant Princes is essential for a victory against the Hapsburg Empire, and that means acting as the more tolerant major Catholic monarch. And yet this rankles him--and Diane encourages this rancor, bidding Henri to take a harder line with France's growing Calvinist population, commonly referred to as the Huguenots. And there is another aspect to this religious struggle--the rivalry of the Guise and the Bourbons. Relative newcomers to the French political scene, the Guises have staked out a place for themselves as defenders of the Catholic orthodoxy--the Bourbons, old Princes of the Blood, are heavily inclined towards the cause of Reform. All of this is going to get very unpleasant in the future. But that is the future. For the present, Henri is a relative moderate--he has reopened a court on heresy, but as yet, this seems to be little more than a sop to the Papacy. As yet.
--At the next Reichstag, Emperor Charles and the Schmalkaldic League create a little something called the Peace of Augsburg, an agreement that will allow Protestant Princes to be Protestant Princes. It also allows the Schmalkaldic League to still exist, on the understanding that it won't be actively pursuing treachery anymore, by say, allying with foreign nations. Of course, Charles doesn't expect that proviso to be honored that much--the Holy Roman Empire of the Germans has a centuries-old tradition of backstabbing to continue, after all--but it will hopefully keep things under some semblance of control. Charles cannot be said to be that thrilled by the whole thing, but it is, he hopes, the framework to peaceable coexistance with the Lutherans, who he now knows are not going to curl up and die simply because he wants them to. His brother Ferdinand is also less thrilled--he's less doctrinaire than Charles, but he lost his beloved eldest son in this war, and he naturally blames the League. As he is presently the King of the Romans and thus, heir presumptive to the title of Holy Roman Emperor, this will prove a problem in the future. But even he knows that there is little that can be done--Protestants are everywhere--indeed their prevalence in Ferdinand's kingdoms are one reason why he wasn't able to mount an effective military response to the Elector. For the moment, the brothers agree that this is a peace that, if it doesn't pry victory from the jaws of defeat, pries acceptable loss from the jaws of total disaster, which is almost as good.
Sadly, one person does not agree with them. Pope Paul angrily denounces the agreement, and refuses to accept it. Heretics, he states, are to be fought until they are defeated. While this has limited direct effect--both Charles and Ferdinand signal everyone that they consider the deal to be in effect, even if the Pope is having a hissy--it does help make everything just a tad more tense throughout the Empire. Still, Paul is an old man. He probably won't be around much longer, and the next Pope will probably prove more reasonable. Hopefully.
--In other Hapsburg news, Ferdinand's second son, Ferdinand II, finds himself forced to take up his brother's place in all sorts of things--he not only finds himself sent to Spain to govern it in his uncle's place, as Charles had planned to have Maximillian do, but he winds up marrying his brother's betrothed, Charles' daughter Maria, as well. He is less than pleased with all this, but he's a Hapsburg. You do what you have to for the family's sake.
While this is going on, Charles broaches the idea of his son Philip succeeding him as Holy Roman Emperor to his brother. Ferdinand does not take it well--he views the position as promised to him--and Charles drops the matter, though it does result in a certain level of bitterness between the brothers. Meanwhile, in an effort to prepare his son for rule--and also get him to get out of the funk his wife's death has caused--Charles has Philip come to govern the Duchy of Burgundy. It does not go well--the Burgundians, Dutch, Wallonian, and Flemish alike find the austere, Spanish-speaking and incredibly narrow-minded Philip... rather unsettling.
--While walking about on government business, Thomas Cromwell suddenly keels over, dying of a heart attack. This makes Anne miss her dearly-departed brother George more intensely--with her old foe/ally Cromwell gone, she has lost her strongest supporter on the Council outside of Paulet, the bastion of opportunism. Cromwell's son Gregory is a member, true, but he is a charming nonentity, in no way capable of taking his father's place. And Anne's position is less sure than it would appear. In the immediate aftermath of her husband's death, the Council was willing to accept her, partially because of a need for strong leadership, and partially because they were used to her. But now things are settling down, and people are starting to rankle. Anne can be abrasive at times, after all. This was not a problem when they needed someone capable of calming down Henry VIII during one of his bad moments, such as the time when he apparently thought England was still in the League of Cambrai, and wondered why they weren't attacking France. But now that's not an issue, and every man who thinks he should be the big man on the Council is starting to bristle. And they aren't alone. Henry IX may only be fourteen, with a fifteenth birthday fast approaching, but he is an exceptionally clever young boy. He is beginning to strike out on his own, and much as he loves his mother, he resents being seen as under her thumb. Anne realizes she may have to step down from the Council earlier than she expected to...
--Turning to the Schmalkaldic League--its mood is celebrant. Closet Lutherans--like Elector Joachim--are becoming open Lutherans. Protestant Princes who refused to join are now begging for admission. William, Duke of Bavaria, who's long had Lutheran sympathies, joins the faith--though this involves politics as much as religion. (Simply put, William suspects that it may prove more important for his family to stay on the Wettins' good side than the Hapsburgs' in the near future.) Yes, things are looking up. Or are they? *dramatic music sting*
John Frederick has naturally emerged the big winner from the war--he has expanded his holdings considerably, and even recieved the Emperor's blessing to do so, in return for agreeing to support the Hapsburg candidate following the end of Charles' reign and giving up any claim to Gelre. Indeed, the late Maurice's side of the family have been downgraded to the mere Dukes of Saxe-Weisenfals. (Presently, as Maurice left only a young daughter behind, the position has passed to his younger brother, Augustus.) Further, John Frederick's eldest son, John Frederick, is now betrothed to England's Princess Elizabeth in a move to connect two of Europe's most prominent Protestant families. The Ernestine line of Wessen is well on its way to become the unofficial head of the Empire's Protestant nobles. And that is what the Emperor is hoping for. Charles has long been the victim of the German Princes crabpot nature, and frankly he wants to spread the love. As he hasn't been able to peel the Elector down, he's decided he'll just help him puff up, and then let nature take its course.
And it's working. John Frederick has come out of the war with two fixed ideas--that the Schmalkaldic League needs to reform if it is to remain an effective counterweight to Imperial might, and that he is its essential man. Needless to say, neither belief, no matter how justified, endears him to his fellows. In addition the League is burdened by old dynastic rivalries. The Wettins and the Hohenzollerns have long competed with each other for influence--indeed, that competition wound up inadvertantly jumpstarting up the Reformation. While they're getting used to working on the same side now, it's an uneasy alliance at the best of times. Then there's the House of Hesse--Philip is feeling somewhat resentful at being eclipsed by John Frederick and is thus making himself into something of an unofficial leader of the opposition. And then John Frederick makes matters worse by picking a fight with Philip Melanchthon.
It all comes down to the the Real Presence. While Luther didn't believe in transubstantiation--that is that the priest more or less transforms the substance of the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ--he did believe that the body and blood are there--somehow--and saw Zwingli and Calvin's denial of this as fanatical. Melanchthon came to disagree with him on this, but kept quiet while his teacher lived to keep the peace. But since Luther's death, he's moved to bring the Lutheran faith somewhat closer to the rest of Protestantism. Unfortunately for him, John Frederick doesn't appreciate this. John Frederick's brand of Protestantism always included just a dose of hero worship for Luther, and thus he does not react well to what he sees as an attack on the great man's works when Luther is no longer able to defend them. There is a political element to this as well--John Frederick is hoping to make sure the Peace holds, and he feels the Lutheran Church becoming LESS Catholic isn't the best way to do this. Besides, this sounds suspiciously like an effort to bring in Calvinism into the church through the backdoor. It starts with suggesting that the Lord's Supper is largely symbolic--it ends with proclaiming kooky doctrines like the nonexistance of free will, or God's chosen elect.
The argument continues throughout the year, with Melanchthon cursing the stubborness of the man who he was painting in near-Messianic terms only recently, and John Frederick muttering about that damned priest. Finally, Melanchthon threatens to resign from his position at Wittenberg University. John Frederick accepts his resignation. Though none realize it at the time, this "little matter" is going to cause the League a great deal of trouble in the years ahead.
--In Scotland, most of the Catholic opposition retires to their respective corners. They're weak, disorientated, and leaderless--with Arran, Lennox, and Beaton gone, they've lost any strong unifying figures outside of Marie of Guise, who of course, wants everyone to just get along. But they're not out of people who think they could be such a figure, and those folks are quietly duking it out, with, as per usual for Scotland, a lot of old feuds starting up again. The Protestants are also less than thrilled by the deal--some feel that England has sold them out--but many understand at least some of the reasoning behind it, and hope that the knowledge that they have England's backing will keep Marie of Guise from attempting a Counter-Reformation. Meanwhile, rumors continue to circulate about the Bloody Night, with various nobles being placed as the third--or rather fourth--party who actually did the deed. Archibald Douglas, the Earl of Angus, is a popular choice--while he was Lennox's father-in-law, he is a notably self-serving, unscrupulous man. Young James Hamilton, the new Earl of Arran, hears these stories, and is profoundly affected by them, though he is unable to do anything at the moment--the English Ambassador also hears them, but dismisses them. Angus, he writes the Council, is an old, tired man more interested in the pretty young wife he recently married than politics these days. Still, this shows how things stand in Scotland. It's not horrifically violent at the moment, but it's a nasty and unstable powderkeg with rumors flying everywhere and people on edge.
--England's Convocation comes to an end. It has been, on the whole, a triumph for Cramner, the primary author of England's new Forty-Three Articles of the Faith, which place the country's church firmly in the Protestant camp. True, he had to scale back some articles to gain the approval of the more conservative members--personally, he considers the compromise on saints he made a little dubious--but on the whole, he is justly proud of it. It is also something of a feather in John Frederick's cap--the Church of England's formulation of the Last Supper is pretty much a gloss on Luther's stance. Yes, everybody's a winner--except for England's Catholics, but by this stage in the game, most people assume they've learnt their lesson.
--In Poland, King Sigismund the Old dies early in the year. The throne passes to his son Sigismund Augustus. At his first Sejm, the king faces a challenge from a group of deputies who call for him to renounce his wife, Barbara Radizwell. Sigismund refuses, setting up a lengthy fight over Barbara's coronation as Queen. This matter is more than simply the Sejm feeling slighted by a prince's hasty marriage--Barbara's family are major Lithuanian magnates, and Protestants to boot. (Barbara herself is Catholic, but sympathetic to reform.) Many Poles distrust such a family gaining ready access to the throne. In addition, the Hapsburgs have quite a bit of pull in the Sejm, and their distrust of the Radizwells is if anything even deeper. And so, by the end of the year, battle lines are set...
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Space Oddity
So it sounds like its all just a breathing space before the next round of chaos and destruction. Hopefully the current pope won't last much longer and his successor will be less doctrinaire but I'm not relying on it.
The one bit that sticks out to me is William, Duke of Bavaria, becoming Protestant. Is this OTL or a change as I know that Bavaria was the other great stronghold of Catholicism in Germany OTL. If the family did convert and especially take the population with them then how many electors would be non-Catholic? Which could really make things awkward for the Hapsburg's and the Papacy, if the various factions ever stopped squabbling with each other.
Steve
So it sounds like its all just a breathing space before the next round of chaos and destruction. Hopefully the current pope won't last much longer and his successor will be less doctrinaire but I'm not relying on it.
The one bit that sticks out to me is William, Duke of Bavaria, becoming Protestant. Is this OTL or a change as I know that Bavaria was the other great stronghold of Catholicism in Germany OTL. If the family did convert and especially take the population with them then how many electors would be non-Catholic? Which could really make things awkward for the Hapsburg's and the Papacy, if the various factions ever stopped squabbling with each other.
Steve
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