"Now Blooms the Tudor Rose."

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Of course.



So does this mean we will see him going mad and violent, or...?

That might be a spoiler, but I like Charles the Slightly Madcap as opposed to the Raving. :(

He's better socialized than OTL Charles, and he's not going to have the accident that broke his skull and made him completely unmanagable. (Plus, he may have gotten a slightly better draw of the genetic deck.) So rest assured, he's not going to be lunging at servants with knives ITTL.
 
He's better socialized than OTL Charles, and he's not going to have the accident that broke his skull and made him completely unmanagable. (Plus, he may have gotten a slightly better draw of the genetic deck.) So rest assured, he's not going to be lunging at servants with knives ITTL.

Whew.

Still, I imagine he's going to be one of those people who is...dangerous to be around.

Peter the Great being a Russian example, Charles XII for Sweden. Some monarchs are more likely to be into stuff that gets you killed.

Battle being its own sort of problem, but I'm just looking at their hobbies. :eek::D


Speaking of which, large ego or no, Henry seems to be a chap with a fairly realistic sense of what he can and can't do so far, or am I misreading?
 
Whew.

Still, I imagine he's going to be one of those people who is...dangerous to be around.

Peter the Great being a Russian example, Charles XII for Sweden. Some monarchs are more likely to be into stuff that gets you killed.

Battle being its own sort of problem, but I'm just looking at their hobbies. :eek::D


Charles will be an interesting monarch. I'll leave it at that.

Also, it's interesting you mentioning the last Vasa King as as the present Vasas are going to be stepping onto the stage soon.


Speaking of which, large ego or no, Henry seems to be a chap with a fairly realistic sense of what he can and can't do so far, or am I misreading?

Henry is fundamentally pragmatic, though naturally, he can get carried away by his own self-image.

Also, 1555 is proving to be very busy--part of this is simply the ever-expanding scope, as things go on, naturally--and as a result, I'm splitting it into two parts.

Which means that I'm publishing the first part... today.
 
"O'Farrell was mighty man,
Whose power was the Lord.
His faith it was his armor,
The Gospel was his sword."

--"Daniel O'Farrell's Army", (Trans. Robert Wilde)
traditional Irish Originalist Hymn

1555--Part 1

--As the year begins, Spain is forced to sheepishly acknowledge that it is now bankrupt. To the surprise of all, France winds up acknowledging that it is also bankrupt, the ever-mounting war costs having sapped its funds. [1] And with that the great Hapsburg-Valois war stalls. The mighty armies of France and Spain pause in their fighting, lacking the money to go on. While a few of their allies fight a handful of desultory battles, especially in Italy, this is on the whole a quiet time. The two mightiest kingdoms in Europe have exhausted each other. And so, despite misgivings on both sides, feelers are sent out to try and reach a peace agreement, largely on the basis that neither of nation can afford to fight any more. In every meaning of the phrase.

--In Scotland, the discovery that they aren't going to be paid for the time being causes many of the French soldiers to essentially quit. This has NOT been a profitable expedition, lootwise, and losing their promised payment destroys any incentive to fight they have left. This is a more dangerous action than they realize--the Douglases are increasingly convinced that this whole alliance was a mistake, and this provides just the advantage that they need to make an end of it. And quite a few French soldiers--simply put, Clan Douglas realizes that the best way to have their changing sides be accepted is to offer an unmistakable demonstration of their new loyalty. James Douglas, Earl of Angus is among those thinking along this line, and he decides to do it in the largest way possible--capturing the Duke of Aumale. Unfortunately for Angus, Aumale is fairly formidable soldier, and his personal guard are quite loyal--Angus' attempt fails badly, with the Earl being dispatched by Aumale himself. However, this assault marks the end of Aumale's ability to mount an effective resistance--the Duke, realizing that he no longer has much in the way of loyal forces, decides to flee the country. To the surprise of everyone, he succeeds, though as often happens in these cases his fleeing forms a rumor that he disguised himself--either as a woman or a priest, depending on who one talks to. Needless to say, everyone agrees it's shameful that he didn't let himself get captured and killed. Where has honor gone?

With the Duke gone, the Lords and Queen Mary are able to regain control of Scotland--though there are a few bands of French soldiers essentially having gone into banditry traipsing around the countryside, as well as a few rogue Douglases that haven't gotten the message that the fighting's over. Mary is able to stage her triumphant return to Stirling Castle, the Lords and Arthur Fitzroy with her. They've won. Now comes the hard part--running Scotland.

--Pius IV has now been Pope for five years, and the Council of Mantua has been in constant session the entire time, with no side of ending soon. Indeed, there are increasing rumors that Pius plans to make the Council a permanent body, the Papacy's answer to Sorbonne, as well as the fulfillment of the long-standing dream of the so-called conciliar Catholics. Cardinals come from Italy, from Germany, from Spain, and yes, from France, to discuss Church Doctrine in a surprisingly open atmosphere, with no fears of any Papal shenanigans regarding dioceses. 'There are no nations here' writes the newly minted--and very idealistic--Abbot Carlo Borromeo.[2] 'There is only the Church, and those who wish to serve her.' Borromeo's gushings aside, most of those involved in the Council are in fact growing increasingly enthusiastic about its direction, and uniting under what historians will call the Pietian Program. Pius favors a largely internal approach to the Counter-Reformation, working on ending the abuses that result in most Protestant complaints, while creating a doctrine flexible enough to appear sympathetic to Protestant aims, while rebutting most of their theological stances. Protestants themselves are to be left alone if they keep to themselves, arrested and then dealt with by secular authorities if they cause trouble. And here is the cagiest, most subtle part of Pius' plan. People who have had doubts, who have questions are coming to understand that this is all right, as long as certain reasonable parameters are kept to--and Protestantism is increasingly looking like the place for those who simply won't stay in those perfectly legitimate boundries. In Italy, where it will be followed most faithfully, the results are definite--Protestantism becomes viewed as fanatical and disruptive, while the Church is seen as thoughtful and tolerant.

But there is the rub. Pius must rely on secular authorities to achieve his ends, and not all see the wisdom of his far-sighted approach. Most notably, Philip of Spain and Henri of France both favor dealing with heretical Protestants more violently, and Pius is unable to do anything but advise a more tolerant course. Philip will adopt the Council's rulings piecemeal, based on whether he approves of them or not--Henri will most often not adopt them at all. And then there is the matter of the German states, the wellspring of the Protestant faith. They simply refuse to reform, citing ancient privileges, and thus remain a horribly corrupt cesspool. German bishops and archbishops are elected by their church councils, and thus are dominated by incompetent, loose-living noblemen, most of whom keep concubines on the side. The victory of the Lutheran Church--or increasingly, Churches--is due to this. People see the well-trained Lutheran priests--almost always happily married--compare them to the local bishop, and gradually, they become Protestants. Pius knows that this could be turned around if some of the old practices could be changed, but there is little he can do--at least not without violating the carefully constructed image of neutrality that is making Mantua work. He needs allies in the German Principalities, but they're scarce on the ground. The Austrian Hapsburgs are the closest thing he has, and they remain suspicious of a Pope they have no hold on, as well as highly uneven in their approach to Protestantism. Where numbers and custom restrain them--such as Bohemia or Royal Hungary--they are fairly tolerant--but where they have a free hand---such as Tyrol or Carinthia--they are merciless. With a situation like that, Pius acidly notes to his allies, he sometimes feels that the Lutherans are welcome to the damn Empire. Or at least the German sections of it.

--In Prague, the city to which he has returned after a long absence, Archduke Ferdinand II has yet another daughter--his fifth, named Maria. His marriage to Maria of Spain is fairly unhappy now--Ferdinand has no love for his wife, and she has little for him. He performs his duties as a husband as he performs his duties as governor of Bohemia--competently, but mechanically. About the only things he seem to enjoy are his art collection, and the occasional witty letter from his cousin Charles about the going-ons at the Spanish Court. And so goes the life of Ferdinand--a man who has everything, and nothing.

--Turning to Vienna, and the Archduke's father, the Emperor Ferdinand finds himself in a tangle. Like much of Christendom, he was gladdened to hear of the Schmalkaldic League's successful taking of Esztergom two years ago, the first significant offensive victory against the Turk in... well, a while. True, he still wound up paying off Suleiman, but NOT as much as he'd thought he'd have to. Plus--another city for Royal Hungary. Always nice.

At least, so he thought. But much of the League is rather unwilling to hand the city over to him. Not only did they fight for it, with John Frederick I, their beloved leader, dying as a result, but like much of Hungary, the city is full of Protestants, and the thought of putting corelgionists into Ferdinand's power does not fill the League with warm fuzzies, no matter how much the Emperor promises to be nice. John Frederick II is particularly adamant on it--he increasingly views Esztergom as his father's final legacy, the future starting point of the PROTESTANT reclamation of Hungary from the Turk.

And there's another complication--the OTHER King of Hungary has suggested he'd like it. Janos II Sigismund Zapolya, the King of Eastern Hungary has indicated he'd like the city. Or rather the nobles that surround the young king, which is more or less the same thing. The League is far more amiable to this idea than one would imagine--while being a de facto vassal of the Turk, Zapolya is a Protestant, even if he isn't quite the right sort. Ferdinand is, needless to say, significantly less fond of the idea--he views Zapolya as a pretender, as Ferdinand had an agreement with his father that on Janos Zapolya I's death, Ferdinand would become sole King of Hungary, which the Transylvanian nobles proceeded to ignore on the ground that they could. And so the affair drags on, with Philip of Hesse doing his level best to spread oil on the waters. Ferdinand sighs and assumes that Suleiman is laughing hysterically to himself in Constantinople.

--In Constantinople, Suleiman grumbles bitterly as his war with Persia ends. His treacherous son Bayezid remains the honored guest of the Shah, (as well as Bayezid's five sons), at least until Suleiman can pay the man enough money to convince him to hand the Prince over to be... dealt with. (Bayezid thought allying with Persia was a good way to supplant his father's favorite Selim. The fact that he thought this is a good demonstration of why Selim is the favorite and designated successor, and Bayezid is presently trying to avoid the House of Osman's traditional way of handling redundant heirs.) As is par for the course in the Ottoman Empire, the ending of one war is time to begin plotting the next. And so, Suleiman tiredly does so. He has no choice. The Last Days are coming within a few decades--he is certain of this--and his dynasty must greet them by achieving a world-encompassing Caliphate--or as close to that as they can manage. Even though he is weary--and cursing himself for his weariness. His father, Selim the Grim--the man Suleiman lives in awe of, even as his son will live in awe of him--he would not feel this way, Suleiman is certain. He never felt any regrets, any hesitation--not even when he deposed his own father, the amiable Bazyezid II! If he had only lived longer--imagine what he could have done! But he died--of a boil--A BOIL!--and Suleiman has spent his entire life trying to make up the difference. And so, Suleiman listens to his generals and advisors and plans further conquests for an Empire that is already approaching the limit of what it can hold. He has to. It's destiny.

--The Duke of Richmond's return to England is hailed with celebration--Anne from her semiretirement notes that one would think England had just won a major war. At a royal fete to commemorate both this and the signing of peace treaties with Spain and the Empire, the court enjoys a performace of Aristophanes Peace by the Fellows of Trinity College. The play is a great success, no small thanks to Founding Fellow John Dee, who provides special effects--most notably, the flight of the dung beetle. [3] Henry especially likes the play, rewarding the Fellows--and Dee in particular, who recieves a sizable purse.

--In France, Henri, "celebrating" the birth of another son, Hercule, has had one of his epic failures of nerve, watching his foreign policy collapse upon itself. He makes desperate efforts to salvage his relationships with England, with Scotland, and with the Pope.

Pius proves fairly easy. The entire point of this was to show Henri that the Papacy is not his puppet, and Pius feels that the point's been made. Besides, he needs the eternal threat of France to keep Spain and the Empire compliant. And vice versa of course. Of course, he has a few... requests to make, but Henri is in such a low state that they all seem rather reasonable.

Henry IX appears to warm to his entreaties. In truth, while he's having second thoughts about his engagement to Elizabeth Valois, he's still attracted to what a marriage to the French Throne represents, even as Emperor Ferdinand floats marriage suggestions to one of his daughters or granddaughters towards the English King. And more than that, Henry realizes that having Henri imagine that England can be lured back into a full alliance is good for the nation's security. And so he continues to appear amenable to reconciliation, even as he notes he trusts the man no nearer than across the Channel--and frankly thinks that's cutting it a bit close.

Mary Stuart--or rather, these days, Stewart--of Scotland likewise plays a double game. Scotland remains fairly disorganized, and while she has a loathing for Henri by this time which actually makes Henry's look mild, she knows that an angry France can cause all sorts of trouble at the moment. And so she smiles and nods, and pretends that of course, everything is all right, and that she knows that Aumale was acting completely on his own, with no sanction from the French Throne, and listens to Henri's suggestion that her fiance pay a visit. Meanwhile, plans of a formal alliance with England are made, and talk of figuring out some way out of that annoying little marriage contract continues.

--In Germany, two seemingly minor events occur. Reichart von Simmern is elected Archbishop of Mainz by a majority of a single vote, despite being a Lutheran. [4] Emperor Ferdinand is annoyed, but decides to move carefully for the moment--despite being an Elector, Reichart is only one of many Prince-Bishops who are either openly or secretly Protestant. The Emperor cannot afford to antagonize them, especially as most are related to the various powerful German dynasties. Indeed, finding them all would be difficult--some of the most prominent Protestant families--most notably the Wittelbachs and the Hohenzollerns--have a Catholic members and even Catholic branches floating around, that they frequently back for the Prince-Bishophorics. The loyalty of such individuals is often suspect--and yet, many are devout. It all must be handled... delicately.

The other is more obviously colorful, and yet, arguably even more indisputably minor to the casual onlooker. The Prince-Bishop of Wurzberg, Melchior Zobel is approached by two men who claim they have a message for him, and bid him to accompany them. He does so, is taken to a small forest, and murdered. Everyone smells a plot, and the most obvious suspect is Imperial Knight--and Zobel's vassal--Wilhelm von Grumbach, who has a long-standing dispute with Zobel over a monetary gift that Zobel's predecessor gave to Grumbach. This would be barely worth a moment's notice--the Holy Roman Empire of the Germans sees feuds of this sort between petty nobles quite frequently--if not for one fact: Wilhelm von Grumbach is John Frederick's right hand man. (Historians will later debate the Elector's knack to pick up questionable supporters, such as Margrave Albert and von Grumbach. Is this a sign of John Frederick's naivete? A clever tactic for a man who realises it will allow him to have servicable villains to perform actions that 'the Rose of Chivalry' cannot be seen as actively participating in? Or does the answer lie with both at once, somehow?) Wilhelm loudly protests his innocence, but this isn't the first time he's been connected with this sort of killing, and one of the two men is identified as his aide de camp. While the Elector is able to shield his prize general somewhat, Grumbach ultimately chooses to go into exile for a while. Traditionally, France would be the place for a German in legal trouble to spend some time, but as they are rather unpopular there at the moment--and Grumbach is doubly so, having lead troops against the nation--he opts instead for Denmark. And that is apparently that, at least for the moment. [5]

Two seemingly minor events. No one even realizes that the seeds of the Revolt of the Bishops and the Knights, the first event of the Second Schmalkaldic War, have just been planted.

--Turning to the matter of Ireland, the first rumors of the preaching of Donal Fearghail and his apostles reach English authorities on the island. They are startling, to the say the least. In one town, Fearghail performs the Eucharist in a field, with simple baked bread and black beer to stand for the body and blood of Christ, in a demonstration that of the rite's purely symbolic nature. In another, one of his "Apostles" rebaptises converts en masse in a river. Hearing these rumors--the authorities mutter about how mad these damned Protestants are and rush to their secret masses. Henry has taken a cautious approach with the island since the revolts, and this means that much of the power in Ireland rests with native Old English officials--who are, as a rule, Catholic. To them, Protestantism is Protestantism. They put NOTHING past these people. If these rumors were getting back to people who know their Protestant factions--well, they'd be getting alarmed.

As well they should be. Fearghail may admire Luther, but he is not a Lutheran, either Evangelical, or Reformed--nor can he be said to intellectually belong to the tradition of the Reformed Churches of Geneva and Strasburg. He has sampled these arguments, and taken from them what he wants--but ultimately, he has come to view them as weak and wanting. No, most of Fearghail's theology comes from Anabaptism, the black tar heroin of Protestant faiths. Fearghail rejects virtually the entire Catholic liturgy, replacing it with striking new rites that he feels are more scriptural, most notably adult baptism. "I shall not rest," he says "until each Irish man and woman may be restored to the original Irish Church." For this is the vital facet of Fearghail's preaching--it is highly nationalistic. Fearghail teaches his followers that the Irish were, for the longest time, the preservers of the true traditions of Christianity, until the English--at the behest of their Roman master the Pope--choked it to death. But did not Christ say that the Spirit of Truth would always be with his followers? And lo! The time of the Restoration of the Original Irish Church is at HAND!

It is a blend of history, myth, and Fearghail's rather fevered imaginings, all of it bound up by a very extreme Protestant doctrine. And it is spreading--though the Irish Originalists' later claims undoubtedly exaggerate the accomplishments of Fearghail and his Apostles. As yet, the Originalists are a fervent minority. But they possess several advantages over the Anglicans. First, the Church of England has been a theological muddle for some time, and though it is at last moving towards a coherant, firmly Protestant position, in Ireland, this movement has been retarded. To most Irishmen, it seems as if they are being asked to stop doing something they've done their entire lives, so they can instead do something slightly different, for reasons that are... nebulous. Fearghail on the other hand, demands a complete break with custom for reasons that are clearly articulated. This dramatic change and clarity aid his cause considerably. Secondly, Fearghail's message is unabashedly nationalistic, painting itself as a restoration of ancient customs. The Irish, he claims, were doing it right when everyone else was wrong--and had to be FORCED into error by dirty foreigners. For many, there is a natural appeal to this sort of thought, especially as Fearghail throws in quite a bit of old-fashioned rabble-rousing populism into the mix. And it is delivered by charismatic and capable preachers, most notably Fearghail himself. Anglicanism on the other hand, is seen as foreign intrusion masquerading as religion, and presided over by limp and incapable prelates, many of whom don't even believe their own doctrine.

Of course, while the Originalists can beat Anglicanism in terms of appeal, that still doesn't mean that they can supplant Catholicism in Ireland. Unless they achieve something... dramatic... in the future. And, to make it clear, they aren't in a position to do anything of the sort.

Yet.

-------------------------
[1] IOTL, the Double Default happened in 1557. I've already covered why Spain's bankruptcy comes sooner--France's does because they've been financing a broader war, earlier, AND the fact that they're still recovering from the earlier Italian War, which likewise saw them paying for a much broader war, longer, than OTL.

[2] IOTL, Borromeo was the Cardinal-nephew of OTL Pius IV. Fascinatingly enough, he was one of the rare competant ones, and actually became a saint. Here, a combination of family connections and dedication have put him on the fast track to the inner circle

[3] Both IOTL and ITTL, he's done this for an earlier, less prominent production. Indeed, he's actually been called up by his fellows on account of this.

[4] IOTL, he lost the election by a single vote.

[5] And so kicks off TTL's version of the Grumbach Feuds, a rather murky minor affair that settled the question once and for all of what the Wettin policy towards the Empire would be. (The answer, by the way, was 'Keep quiet, and don't cause any trouble'.) Needless to say, here, things are a bit more... dangerous. IOTL, Melchior was killed in 1559--here, Grumbach--or his followers--figure that with the Elector's protection Zobel's murder can be gotten away with. As noted, originally, Grumbach lighted off for France--on several occasions, actually, as his feud with Melchior rather regularly got him into trouble.
 
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Space Oddity

Well France and Spain are economically exhausted so have made peace, for the moment. The Austrian Hapsburg's and German Protestants not yet so their building up for another round. With the Sultan also preparing to hit someone.[Could be the empire, or the Poles or even another bash at Persia or a bid for southern Italy].

As to Ireland, not so much lighting the blue touch paper as who the hell left that nitroglycerine there!:eek: Fervent if not fanatical Irish nationalism bounded to hard line Protestantism clashing with both the ruling powers [once London starts to realise what's happening] and the resident Catholics, both 'old English' and Gaelic Irish. Just wondering what the Pope will think of this? As is not unusual you could have some strange alliances developing here.

Steve
 
Another update so soon? I'll take it!

Mary is able to stage her triumphant return to Stirling Castle, the Lords and Arthur Fitzroy with her. They've won. Now comes the hard part--running Scotland.
I can't imagine she'll do any worse than OTL Mary, Queen of Scots did. I look forward to seeing how her reign progresses.

Mary Stuart--or rather, these days, Stewart
Indeed, I wonder if the French spelling would have seen formal use at all in this timeline. Oh well, if it did, at least it didn't stick.

Meanwhile, plans of a formal alliance with England are made, and talk of figuring out some way out of that annoying little marriage contract continues.
Perhaps she and Henry IX should meet in person to discuss the potential alliance. And share their mutual distaste about the Valois betrothal situation, while they're at it.

Reichart von Simmern is elected Archbishop of Mainz by a majority of a single vote, despite being a Lutheran.
Things are looking really bad for the Catholics. An ecclesiastical elector going Lutheran? Doesn't that put the Protestants in control of the Imperial electorate? That should make the next election very interesting...

No, most of Fearghail's theology comes from Anabaptism, the black tar heroin of Protestant faiths.
Does that include pacifism? Somehow I doubt it.

Of course, while the Originalists can beat Anglicanism in terms of appeal, that still doesn't mean that they can supplant Catholicism in Ireland. Unless they achieve something... dramatic... in the future. And, to make it clear, they aren't in a position to do anything of the sort.

Yet.
There's the foreboding ending! I was wondering where it had gotten to.

Well, in addition to Margaret Tudor and the Earl of Lennox, someone else I'm interested in hearing from is little Antoinette Stewart. She may still be fairly young, but from what I remember, she and Mary did not get along. She is still Heiress Presumptive, and her views on relations with England and France may prove interesting.

And it is looking really bad for the Catholics. I realize it did in OTL, as well, before the Counter-Reformation turned things around. They'll have to hope they can do it in TTL as well. They've certainly got the best possible man for the job at the helm, so we'll see.

Looking forward to part 2!
 
After plowing through all of this in one go, I must say that this is now one of my favorite timelines on these boards :D Keep up the good work!
 
Space Oddity

Well France and Spain are economically exhausted so have made peace, for the moment.

That's a bit of an overstatement--they've started to make peace. But when France and Spain 'start' to do things, it often takes them a while to finish. And in peace talks, that can make quite the difference.


The Austrian Hapsburg's and German Protestants not yet so their building up for another round. With the Sultan also preparing to hit someone.[Could be the empire, or the Poles or even another bash at Persia or a bid for southern Italy].

Don't get too distracted by the Ottomans. They're planning a war, but at this time, they're ALWAYS planning a war. It may be years before they move on it.


As to Ireland, not so much lighting the blue touch paper as who the hell left that nitroglycerine there!:eek: Fervent if not fanatical Irish nationalism bounded to hard line Protestantism clashing with both the ruling powers [once London starts to realise what's happening] and the resident Catholics, both 'old English' and Gaelic Irish. Just wondering what the Pope will think of this? As is not unusual you could have some strange alliances developing here.

Like you wouldn't believe. ;)

Also, BWAHAHAHAHA!

I can't imagine she'll do any worse than OTL Mary, Queen of Scots did. I look forward to seeing how her reign progresses.

To give our Mary credit, she started well, but then she made the most disasterous marriage possible. And things sort of spiraled out of control from there.


Things are looking really bad for the Catholics. An ecclesiastical elector going Lutheran? Doesn't that put the Protestants in control of the Imperial electorate? That should make the next election very interesting...

Believe it or not, things like that actually happened IOTL. And yes, now four out of seven Electors are Protestant. That stated, the effect it might have is... debatable. First, Ferdinand II is King of the Romans. Second, the ability of those four Protestants to unite around a single candidate is rather... limited. Indeed, an attempt at the moment would probably look something like this...

KING OF BOHEMIA: Right. So, Imperial election. I vote for me.

COLOGNE: I also vote for him.

TRIER: Ditto.

SAXONY: Ha! Not so fast, Hapsburg scum! I VOTE FOR ME!

BRANDENBURG: And I also vote for the Elector of Saxony! Go Lutheranism!

PALINTINATE: And I vote--FOR ME! REFORMED LUTHERANISM! John Calvin is right!

MAINZ: I'm backing the Count-Paltinate! REFORM!

PALINTINATE: Thanks, cuz.

MAINZ: Hey, don't mention it. See you at the reunion next year?

PALINTINATE: You bet.

BOHEMIA: ... Well, here's a pretty situaton.

Of course, this is assuming it ever happened, which, due to the personalities of those involved, it probably wouldn't.

Does that include pacifism? Somehow I doubt it.

I will be detailing this later--but for now, allow me to say, your doubts are absolutely correct. (Though OTL's Anabaptists only became pacifists after the whole 'take over by force' method didn't pan out.) Also, most Anabaptist faiths tend to insist that they are not affiliated with Irish Originalism--and vice versa.

Well, in addition to Margaret Tudor and the Earl of Lennox, someone else I'm interested in hearing from is little Antoinette Stewart. She may still be fairly young, but from what I remember, she and Mary did not get along. She is still Heiress Presumptive, and her views on relations with England and France may prove interesting.

Margaret and Antoinette will show up soon. As for Lennox--he's still a little, little boy at the moment. But rest assured--I have plans for him.

And it is looking really bad for the Catholics. I realize it did in OTL, as well, before the Counter-Reformation turned things around. They'll have to hope they can do it in TTL as well. They've certainly got the best possible man for the job at the helm, so we'll see.

Their situaton is worse in most ways ITTL--as opposed to OTL, the Schmalkaldic League has not failed, which means that militant Lutheranism remains very formidable. Of course, as noted above, the Protestants have taken advantage of their good fortune by splintering over doctrinal matters--still, they're even tougher to suppress than IOTL.

Also, as for whether Pius' approach will work well I of course, cannot say at the moment--however, I will add it will work differently that OTL, which wound up being something of a 'destroyed the village to save it' affair. Especially for northern Italy, where the success involved strangling all the things that had made the area such an intellectual powerhouse during the Renaissance. (Not that the Counter-Reformation was alone responsible for all this, but it didn't help.)

I am a great fan of your work, and I hope you continue. When's the next update?

Thank you. Welcome to the board. And to answer your question--when I finish it. :D
 
KING OF BOHEMIA: Right. So, Imperial election. I vote for me.

COLOGNE: I also vote for him.

TRIER: Ditto.

SAXONY: Ha! Not so fast, Hapsburg scum! I VOTE FOR ME!

BRANDENBURG: And I also vote for the Elector of Saxony! Go Lutheranism!

PALINTINATE: And I vote--FOR ME! REFORMED LUTHERANISM! John Calvin is right!

MAINZ: I'm backing the Count-Paltinate! REFORM!

PALINTINATE: Thanks, cuz.

MAINZ: Hey, don't mention it. See you at the reunion next year?

PALINTINATE: You bet.

BOHEMIA: ... Well, here's a pretty situaton.

This is why I love this timeline. :D

Not the situation, but the writing is great.
 
Do we have four DEVOUT Protestant electors now, then? Because the Habsburgs faced that situation before, and could always find ONE of the four bribable. Four non-bribable, fractious Protestant electors would indeed be interesting.
 
Do we have four DEVOUT Protestant electors now, then? Because the Habsburgs faced that situation before, and could always find ONE of the four bribable. Four non-bribable, fractious Protestant electors would indeed be interesting.

Actually, you have nailed it. The situation I described was what would happen if the Protestants actually DID make a bid now, and were planning to stick to it. In truth, the only difficulty Ferdinand II would face if his father keeled over unexpectedly around now is the Protestants engaging in some mild arm-twisting to gain concessions.
 
"Wars are fought in fields of battle, with the sword and the spear and the musket, by soldiers and generals. They are won at negotiation tables, with the promise, and the plot, and the lie, by politicians and diplomats.

"The fact that these two things are so connected and yet bear so little resemblence to one another explains much of the ills that afflict this world."

--Prince Charles von Hapsburg, 1578 (possibly apocrophyal)

1555--Part 2

--Peace talks between France, Spain and the Empire continue throughout the year, under Papal mediation. Henri, as noted earlier, has lost his nerve, and as a result, France is soaked. For a truce to be signed--not a treaty, mind you, but a truce--France must remove its troops from Milan. This is certain to be the prelude of the loss of all of his father's gains in the Duchy--perhaps even a formal renounciation of his claims. And yet, Henri sees no choice. He accepts.

His brother-in-law, Emmanuel Philibert de Savoie, is furious. He has been writing constantly to Henri, trying to get him to see that the French position on the ground is actually quite good. True, they've been put to the retreat in Milan, but they still hold more of the Duchy than they did when the war started. France has no reason to accept anything less than a white peace--perhaps even a mild increase of territory there. But again, Henri's nerves are shot, and Pope Pius has rather adroitly twisted his arm on the subject. The French and Savoyard forces are leaving Milan.

Of course, it is not a total loss for France--the territory gained in Lorraine at the war's start remains in their hands, for the price of betrothing young Princess Claude to Charles III, Duke of Lorriane,[1] and Corsica remains their new vassal. Further, the Fieschi government of the Genoa Republic has stayed in power, much to the endless fury of the Dorias. Still, when looking at what has been expended to achieve such ends, it's hard for Henri--or any Frenchman--to consider this anything but a loss.

--June sees the death of Johanna the Mad, the great matriarch of the Hapsburg line that they don't like to talk about. [2] Former Emperor Charles and present Emperor Ferdinand are both rather hurt by the death of their mother. Young Charles, hearing of it, decides to make another attempt to visit his ailing grandfather. He concocts an elaborate plot to let him do so, involving forged orders, duplicate keys, and a very large hat.

It almost works.

--Young Charles' father, Philip of Spain, decides to use the peace to get his affairs in order in the chaotic Duchy of Burgundy. This is difficult--as many historians will note, at this time, the Duchy is not so much an actual political unit, as it is a loosely connected group of provinces that Philip's Burgundian ancestors gathered together through a combination of conquest and inheritance, most of which jealously guard their rights and customs. The Spanish King's initial efforts to get things in order involves first investing the various stadtholderships--a position roughly equivalent to a governor--in proven men he feels he can trust, most notably Count Egmont, Count Horn, and of course, William of Orange.[3] The next step is buying further loyalty from them and the local notables with memberships in the Order of the Golden Fleece. This is an especially clever maneuver, as it allows Philip to turn the Order's meetings into a chance to unofficially pursue policy. (This is especially vital, as the Seventeen Provinces' various state bodies are slow and unwieldy in the extreme.)

And yet despite all this, there is an uneasiness in Burgundy with Philip's rule. He is too... Spanish, an austere and remote stranger ruling a people famed for their friendliness and celebratory ways. And then there is the matter of the local Inquisition. Philip has somewhat stepped up the persecution of Protestants, much to the discomfort of the fairly tolerant Burgundians. Many whisper that he plans to bring the fearsome Spanish Inquisition--a nonsensical rumor, actually. Philip has no such plans, and, as he notes, his subjects would probably be surprised to discover themselves in the hands of easier masters--the Burgundian Inquistion is on the whole rather worse than its Spanish sibling.[4] And yet Philip is underestimating the danger. The Seventeen Provinces could accept such treatment from his father because he was one of them--Philip is not, and is managing to cross an almost imperceptible line in his Protestant persecutions. Men are being arrested who are not wide-eyed radicals, but solid citizens whose only fault is a difference of opinion on matters the average Burgundian sees as rather... minor actually. And yet, one must not overestimate all this. Philip has just won a war, and the memory of his majestic and beloved father is still green for most of his subjects. The cracks are there--but they are hairline cracks, at the moment. For now, as Philip heads off to Italy for an important bit of diplomatic business, he is certain he's gotten this whole 'Burgundy' matter down pat.

--As the nation finally recovers from "the Bloody Years," Scotland's Parliament meets again after what has been one long interval. Needless to say, the Lords of the Congregation are running the show--the resulting Parliament is thus dominated by Protestants. The first issue--Mary Stewart's new Regent. While there is some talk of making her elder half-brother James Regent, both he and Mary are rather apprehensive about the idea--they both worry that this will likely prove the first step in setting Mary aside and making James King. This is not pure selfishness on Mary's part, or pure altruism on James'--such a move would likely destablize a nation that has just begun to steady itself, likely starting an outright civil war, and bringing the French back into the picture. Further, while James is an ambitious man, he is also a smart one--James suspects such a move will fail. It is better for him to serve his younger sister loyally, and thus be granted power and authority securely, instead of making a desperate gamble to usurp the throne. And that settles the matter--as neither James nor Mary want him in the position, he is out of the running.

But this creates a new problem--James Stewart is the only candidate with a broad range of support. Everyone else has as many dedicated detractors as fervant advocates, as nobody wants to give their rivals that amount of power. Mary finally manages to square the circle by having her majority declared. While this is largely a formality--the Lords and Parliament are going to be the real powers running the realm--it does remove one contentious little plumb from the table. Of course, there are plenty more.[5]

With that out of the way, Parliament gets on to the minor matter of breaking with Rome. Legislation is drafted to form the Scottish Kirk, the Kingdom's new very much Reformed Protestant Church. This is largely the brainchild of 'the two Johns', Knox and Willock. Mary signs all this into law, and it's done--Scotland is now officially Protestant, albeit with a certain level of toleration extended to Catholics. Hearing of his niece's actions, her uncle, France's champion of the ultraorthodoxy, Duke Francois de Guise, writes Mary a stern letter upbraiding her for indulging the Protestant heretics. Mary sends a reply wherein she protests that she has little choice in the matter. She rules on the whim of Parliament--'They put it before me, and I must sign.' De Guise should be happy that she managed to keep them from making it a crime to take Catholic mass. She really is doing her all for the True Faith in difficult circumstances. Trust her.

Duke Francois is still puzzling that out when he gets a letter from Mary's little sister, Princess Antoinette--who still goes by 'Stuart', thank you very much. Her sister, she declares is "a lying hinny", and any claims she has to be opposing the Protestants are lies. Antoinette knows for a fact that she has spent "long hours talking with the scoundrel Knox," AND that she 'takes great delight in the blasphemies he tells her". Clearly, her sister is far, FAR more sympathetic to the Protestants than any proper Catholic monarch has any right to be. Of course, some might suggest that this invalidate Mary's claim to the throne, but Antoinette insists she is far too merciful and kind-hearted to ever consider such a thing. Trust her. As Francois notes to his little brother Rene, he does not envy his niece her viper of a little sister. Of course, figuring out which sibling has given him the more accurate picture of Mary's actions is all but impossible, especially as the de Guises do not have many agents on the ground thanks to Claude's little... misadventure. (Aumale, for those who are wondering, is presently a persona non grata in France, and is thus cooling his heels in Genoa.) And so the question remains--where does Mary Stewart stand on the vital matter of the age--Catholic, or Protestant?

The answer is 'neither'. An often patchy religious education and an extremely pragmatic nature has resulted in young Mary having no strong religious convictions, save perhaps, one--that God wants Mary Stewart to stay alive and Queen of Scotland. While she is kindly desposed to the Protestants--these are the men who risked their lives to save her from her horrid uncle, after all--this is a political affiliation, not a religious one. (She has been having conversations with Knox on the matter, largely to get on his good side, but they have made little impression on her--save that Knox is 'a vulgar, vulgar man'.) She is also cagy enough to realize that Scotland still has quite a few Catholics left in it, and now that the bogey of Aumale is gone, they are probably going to start realizing that this present situation may be worse for them in the long run. Mary knows Scotland cannot take another bit of intercine bloodletting at the moment--her hopes are that she can present herself as a figure above religious disputes, and thus keep the peace. (Well, as much as that is possible--this is Scotland, after all.) For the moment, she is succeeding, aided in no small part by her half-brother, who may be a Protestant, but is also as pragmatic as his little sister.

--In Italy, the Republic of Sienna falls to an army of Florentine and Papal troops--of course, preventing the Imperial troops from doing just this is what brought Florence and the Papal States into the war in the first place, but that was then.[6] NOW, the Siennese are dangerous allies of the shifty French who must be taken care of. In Savoie, Italo-French commander Piero Strozzi, who was in charge of Siennese forces, weeps bitter tears. He was charged with assisting the Republic, France's last true ally in Italy, and now, as things have fallen out, he cannot even be there to defend it in its final hour of need. Emmanuel Philibert bids him recover himself--it's not his fault. "Things have been badly handled," notes the Duke of Savoie, "by one greater than ourselves."

Cosimo de Medici is created Grand Duke of Tuscany by Pope Pius, who then goes on to recognize Philip of Spain Duke of Milan, and King of Naples, Sicily, and Sardinia in a ceremony designed to be a slightly less humiliating version of his uncle Ferdinand's crowning as Emperor--but only slightly. Philip accepts it with as much grace as he can manage, which is actually an incredible amount. He sees this for what it is, of course--Pius is quietly declaring the Pope the supreme arbiter of Italian politics. The power to recognize is the power to deny--possibly even to cast down. And yet he goes through with this. He knows that Pius is able to do this because of the present weakness of the Spanish position in Italy. And he knows that things change--if he accepts this present humiliation, and rides out the storm, than Pius--or at least, his successors--stand a pretty good chance of finding their positions reversed, one of these days. Of course, Pius also knows this--which is why he's determined to strike while the iron is hot. If he establishes and strengthens precedent it could come in very handy in the future.

The sight of the Spanish and their Hapsburg masters being humbled brings joy to many Italians, including Cardinal Carafa who is starting to wonder if perhaps Pius isn't so bad. (Hatred of the Spanish is one of Carafa's OTHER defining drives.) And so, he decides on a peace offering, a plan he feels is so great that even Pius will have to thank him for it. He floats his idea to the Pope through one of Theantine followers. [7] The Jews, he notes, have been living in Rome for a few decades now, and Carafa for one thinks it's rather awkward. So he proposes making them all live in a single neighborhood. Oh, and also have them wear big yellow hats, so that people can see that these are Jews![8] To Carafa's mind, this baby is perfect--an issue no sensible Pope can refuse.

Pius does not deign to even grant Carafa's proposal a reply. And so, the ex-head of the Roman Inquisition continues in his huff. As he is also a Cardinal of the Church, and the founder and head of his own holy order, this is a fairly significant matter, for all that Pius has managed to marginilize the man.

--The University of Wittenburg publishes the first edition what will become known as Table Talk, all part of their ongoing efforts to extract every bit of Luther's wisdom--even the jokes he told over dinner.[9] Yes, Wittenburg wants to make sure everyone knows they're the real heir to Martin Luther, and that Philip Melanchthon's efforts over at Marburg are a fraud by those heretical Reformed Lutherans. And so things remain... testy between the two factions.

--The penalty for heresy in France is stepped up to death. Huguenots begin to quietly panic. A few begin to throw around the idea of heading to the New World, there to found a colony based on the free practice of their religion. After all--what could go wrong?[10]

That stated Henri's plan to make France so Catholic a nation that the Spanish Thrones wind up looking like a bunch of lukewarm moderates runs into a serious snag. His efforts to create a new heresy court that will function as an Inquisition in all but name--well, and without an official seal of Papal approval--does not go over well with the Parlement, who note that Henri is in essence asking them to curtail the Royal authority.[11] And Huguenots are not the only people who are alarmed by all these developments. Queen Catherine and Cardinal Charles de Guise both think that Henri is naively courting civil disturbance out of a combination of spite and religious fervour. And so, though neither can be said to be a real fan of the other, the pair begin an unoffical political alliance. Their mission--curtail the power of Charles' brother Francois, and the King's mistress, Diane de Poitiers, and try to keep France from exploding into fighting on the streets.

--England's young Princess Margaret is getting her first real marriage offers. Emperor Ferdinand is suggesting a match with his son Charles, which is not going to happen. The suit of Duke Erik of Kalamar is more likely, but flounders on the fact that he's pressing it without the permission of his father, Sweden's formidable King Gustav I Vasa, and that such a move might alienate Denmark. (More distressingly, Anne and Henry have heard rumors that Erik is unstable, something that his father's rather legendary... oddness makes them credit.) [12] And Prince Frederick of Denmark is throwing his hat into the ring, though it must be stated he does so with a surprising lack of enthusiasm.

As for the Princess herself, she is fairly delighted by all the attention. The young redhead is the family beauty--as well as the family baby--and naturally enjoys all the endless declarations of love by men who have never ever seen her.

--In Portugal, old King Joao III dies suddenly. His ailing son becomes Joao IV, but collapses during his coronation ceremony--within a few weeks, he is dead as well. [13] And so, wrapping up the "Year of Three Kings", young Prince Leander is crowned. He is just over a year old. While his mother Johanna is technically Dowager Queen and Queen Mother, and thus the obvious candidate for Regent, she runs into the wall that is her formidable mother-in-law, Catherine of Castile. Johanna and Catherine--who is not only her mother-in-law, but also her aunt--continue their dispute from months before finally turning to Philip for arbitration.[14] Philip, en route to Spain from his Italian holdings, promises to take care of things when he arrives. Eventually. He has things to do in Spain--and he does want to check on this son of his that he keeps hearing distressing things about...

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[1] Something similar happened IOTL, though at a later date and with a significantly older Claude.

[2] Her death was in April IOTL.

[3] He did the same thing IOTL. Allow me to add that it will likely prove just as bitterly ironic here.

[4] Again, also, IOTL.

[5] OTL's Mary's son, James I & VI would do something similar.

[6] It fell about now IOTL, actually, though after a lengthy siege. Here, the entire about-face has left Sienna woefully undefended and rather off-balance.

[7] The Theantines are a holy order founded, in part, by Carafa. They were well-respected for their austerity.

[8] Carafa actually made this law when he was Pope.

[9] Table Talk is published quite a bit earlier ITTL, largely because of the Ernestine Wettins better fortunes.

[10] IOTL, France Antartique was founded in this year--here things are getting started just a tad later.

[11] IOTL, Henri's plans to found a French Inquisition floundered on similar objections.

[12] Future king (both IOTL, AND ITTL) Erik XIV.

[13] Joao III died in 1557 IOTL--here butterflies have him die a bit earlier, but have kept his son alive a little longer, resulting in him becoming Joao IV for a very, very short time.

[14] They had a similar dispute IOTL. There, they turned to Charles.
 
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Another great update, might the Huguenots be heading to somewhere with a few less Catholics? Like North America.
South America. Brazil. OTL, the colony ultimately failed because the French crown wasn't willing to defend a bunch of Protestants against Portugal. Perhaps it will be the same here. Perhaps not.

Good stuff, as always.
 
Space Oddity

Sounds like a period of relative calm, but with storm clouds gathering on plenty of horizons. Scotland is calm for the moment and Mary and James can give it stability but when they hear about Antoinette comments that could make for some tension in the family. Also, since she is taking a clear Catholic stance, that could backfire on the Scottish Catholics.

The Netherlands are simmering as well but a lot could depend on what happens while Philip's away as it sounds like he will be absent a longish time. Between the struggle in Portugal and the difficult relations with his son, which it sounds like there will be a crisis soon. If the people he left in charge are moderates and restrain the Inquisition then things will improve, although when Philip gets back he may be less than happy. If the bulk of them follow his line then there could be problems, especially with them lacking his direct prestige.

There are plenty of other areas than could explode [tempted to say will explode;)]. Relations between Pope Pius and both the Hapsburg's and some of his cardinals. Between the various German Protestant groups and each other plus their Hapsburg masters. Between Francois and large groups in France - although I think you have hinted the lid will stay on this pot until after his death. I avoid mentioning Ireland as I know that is going to go critical.

With the Huguenots wouldn't the most likely escape route be the one they took in large numbers OTL, i.e. to England? There is a Protestant state that is at odds with Francois so it would probably welcome any refugees. Especially given it might want settlers to support its hold on an unstable region.;)

Steve
 
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