The Protestant Reformation
Of all of the history posts I have ever composed, this one is the one I have been looking forward to the most. I have wanted to write about the Protestant Reformation (1517-1648) for so long (and anyone who knows me personally will know that if you get me started on this chapter of history, I will delve into a monologue that lasts at least two hours). However, I have avoided posting about this important era of history for some time because it is simply such a long (very long) period. That being noted, though I am only including what I perceive to be as the bare essentials, this will still likely be the longest post that I have ever written (and ever will write).
My original plan was to break this topic into sections by religion, but so much of the Protestant Reformation is built on top of itself, that it would be cruel for me to leave you to go from post to post to try and piece things together. And one last note before I begin: as religion is a controversial subject, I wish to affirm that I am not criticizing or praising any religions in this text. The post you are about to read is only objective historical fact.
Now, this is as much as a review of old information for me as it is perhaps an acquisition of new information for you (this unit of European History class was so long ago). That being noted, if you perceive that any information is factually false, and can verify it with evidence, please tag me in the comments and politely request that I make the necessary corrections. Because, though I am a historian (well, I see myself as a historian), historians still make mistakes. As usual, I will try to make some jokes and commentary along the way to keep things interesting. Things should be pretty interesting regardless, however, seeing as there are so many battles and wars that I am about to cover. So, without further ado, the Protestant Reformation!
If any of you recall from my last history post - “The Great (Western) Schism: What Happened?” The Great Schism is often regarded as the greatest reason for the Protestant Reformation. It revealed that the Catholic Church, by the mid 1400s, was quite corrupt. In all truth, high levels of the clergy were riddled with scandal, nepotism, and corrupt practices. Of course, these factors do not reflect the Catholic Church itself, but are merely the acts of independent selfish people who abused that Church to achieve their economic goals.
Regardless, by the late 1400s, people in Europe were already beginning to question Catholicism. Desiderius Erasmus (1466 or 1469-1536) had already touched upon the essence of humanism during the Italian Renaissance. In his book, “The Praise of Folly,” Erasmus called for reform of the Church. Similarly, John Hus (also known as Jan Hus) (1369-1415), though a dedicated Christian, had attacked the power of the papacy, and was as a result burned at the stake. Now, these individuals set the stage, so to speak, for the Reformation, as they technically preceded the reformation.
The first major player in our little tale was a man named Martin Luther (1483-1546), who was studying law at the University of Erfurt, in Thuringia, between 1507 and 1510. His father, a well-standing man with money in his pockets, wanted Luther to become a lawyer. However, one night, a horrible storm struck while Martin Luther was somewhere outside (I do not know where). This storm was apparently really bad (as in, tree limbs coming down and flash flooding and whatnot), and Luther sought shelter in a nearby church. While in the church, afraid for his life, he prayed to God (in this post, whenever I refer to God, I am speaking of the Christian God) that he would survive the night. He promised that if he survived, he would dedicate his life to religion
The storm passed by morning, and, to his father’s malcontent, Luther changed his degree from law to theology. Martin Luther gained a doctorate degree in this field, and very soon he was a well-practiced, lower-level cleric. However, Luther began to observe the corrupt actions of the church. A look back, if you will: back during the Italian Renaissance, the Catholic Church simply could not get enough large monuments and cathedrals. To acquire these, they paid a lot of money for artisans and workers to design and construct these impressive monuments. However, as can be expected, these projects were immensely expensive.
To gain the funds required to pay off these projects, the Catholic Church turned to some rather unfortunate means. There was the sale of indulgences, for example, which was when one literally paid the Church so that after they die, they can leave Purgatory and go to Heaven faster. One of the advocates of this corrupt trade, Johann Tetzel (1465-1519), hawked indulgences in the German region with this slogan: “As soon as the coin in the coffer rings, the soul from Purgatory springs!” The Church would also offer people the chance to gaze upon “authentic Biblical artifacts,” if they paid to do so, which would supposedly also shorten their time in Purgatory.
Of course, this was all a total sham. In fact, many if not most of the “artifacts” that the churches displayed in different countries were not even authentic. So, essentially, everyone claimed that the skull in their box was the head of John the Baptist (even today, there is confusion over who really has his head. I once visited the cathedral in Amiens, France, which is one of those that claims to have it. I must say, it is a very impressive building). These scandalist actions committed by those within the Catholic Church are actually the cause for almost all of the people I will mention breaking from Catholicism.
Ok, so, back to Martin Luther. By the early 1500s (I am not exactly sure in what year), Martin Luther created Lutheranism. Essentially, Martin Luther believed that it was wrong that the Catholic Church was taking advantage of the masses (usually, only the town priest was literate, so no one could actually read the Bible to see what the real guidelines of Catholicism were). Luther stated that good works do not save humanity, but religious devotion. He believed that the Bible should be one’s main guide, not an individual.
For forming Lutheranism, this new branch of Christianity, Martin Luther soon took on harsh flack. The Church was not happy with his “Ninety-Five Theses,” or his “Address to the Nobility of the German Nation,” to name a few writings. On January 3, 1521, Pope Leo X (1475-1521) excommunicated Martin Luther from the Catholic Church. That same year, Martin Luther, who had been in Rome at the time, was banished from Rome under the Edict of Worms.
The Diet of the Holy Roman Empire in which Martin Luther was outlawed was called upon by none other than King (Emperor) Charles V (1500-1558). Prepare to hear a lot about this guy, as he was pretty pivotal in almost everything to do with the Protestant Reformation. Austria and the HRE at this time was staunchly Catholic, and King Charles V was therefore a dedicated Christian. Logically speaking, he should have been a very influential ruler. He fought the Habsburg-Valois Wars (land quarrels with King Francis I, of France), he basically owned Spain and much of present-day Germany, and all of the land in the New World (the present-day Americas) that the Spanish had claimed (“ahem, conquered”) were technically his. However, King Charles V would actually die pretty unaccomplished, largely because he spent his whole life, pretty much, trying to fight the Lutherans (and he would fail, but I am not quite there yet).
Anyway, when Martin Luther returned to the Prussian and German region, his preachings of Lutheranism spread rapidly. In fact, this new branch of Christianity was not only popular with the German peasants, but the German princes, as well. Inspired by Lutheran’s preachings, however, the German Peasants’ War (a revolt of German peasants against their princes) began in 1524. It would last for one year, and of course, if you know your history of revolutions, revolutions almost always fail, so the German Peasants’ War failed. Although it would seem that, morally speaking, Martin Luther should have likely joined the peasants, and he probably wanted to, however, he sided with the wealthy German princes. This was because Luther was well aware that the Catholic Church was probably out for his life (a fair suspicion, but I am not sure if it is actually valid or not), and he required the allegiance of the powerful German princes to protect him. So, basically, he stood by while the revolutionaries he indirectly inspired were crushed (honestly, though, I probably would have done the same thing).
What followed next was the Schmalkaldic War (pronunciation is beyond me) (1546-1547). This was a period of conflict between Holy Roman Emperor King Charles V and the Lutheran League(s) across Austria and Germany. Though the Catholic Imperial Spanish technically won the conflict (they were the closest ally of the HRE at the time), in 1555, King Charles was completely worn out by the conflict with the Lutherans, and so he finally yielded to them. In that year, he signed the Peace of Augsburg with the Schmalkaldic League. Now, contrary to popular belif, this did not instate religious freedom in Germany (as Austria at this time owned much of the German region); rather, this treaty provided that the German princes could decide that their cities would be either Catholic or Lutheran, not both, and definitely not anything else. Also, anyone who lived under these princes would have to default to whatever religion that prince had chosen. This would cause major problems later on when Lutheranism began to fall out of favor in Germany.
So, clearly, it would be an understatement to say that the Protestants and the Catholics did not get along well. “Ok,” you may think. “So surely the Protestant religions must have banded together against the Catholics.” Yeah, not really. In fact, most Protestant faiths hated each other quite bitterly as they began to form. Now is a great time to delve into our next Protestant Religion: Zwinglianism.
Ulrich Zwingli (1484-1531) was a Swiss man, a master in the arts, and was very much influenced by Christian humanism. His reasons for preaching a new Protestant faith were much of the same as Martin Luther’s: Zwingli was utterly disgusted by the corrupt papacy of the Catholic Church and sought reformation. Much like Lutheranism, Zwinglianism preached that the bible should be the most important authority in Christianity, and therefore should be placed above human clergy. However, Zwingli also sought to abolish music and mass from the Church as well. He preached primarily in the “Great Minster of Zurich.” Shortly after, Zurich began to reform their churches to fit the principles of Zwinglianism.
However, the Zwinglianists and the Lutherans downright hated each other. In all fairness, Zwingli and Luther did attempt to reach a treaty agreement that would form an alliance between them against the Catholics. However, talks completely fell apart because these two religious leaders disagreed on one key thing: the essence of transubstantiation. This was the idea that the bread and wine distributed to the masses by a priest in church, once ingested, became the blood and body of Jesus.
The Zwinglianists believed that this notion was merely metaphorical. The blood and body of Jesus existed in these food items in notion, but not in reality, according to their beliefs. The Lutherans, on the other hand, interpreted the idea of transubstantiation more literally: they believed that the bread and wine literally became the blood and body of Jesus once ingested. If you can find it with a quick “google,” I highly recommend you read over the recorded peace talks between Ulrich Zwingli and Martin Luther. They are rather interesting because they spent almost the entire debate arguing over this single concept. At first, they evidently tried to remain respectful, but as their conversation wore on and they began to loose patience, they pretty much totally lost it on one another. A peace settlement was never reached; rather, the two Protestant religions were often at odds with each other.
Meanwhile, the Catholic population of Switzerland was not at all pleased with this new Protestant faith known as Zwinglianism. The tensions between the two religions sparked the Swiss Civil War (one of many that have existed in Switzerland’s history), and this conflict really has no definite end dates, as it went on in short and large bursts all the way through the Thirty Years’ War (more information on that coming up).
Simply to affirm, guns had existed around for about a hundred and fifty years before the Protestant Reformation. However, they were highly inaccurate, and not widely spread throughout militaries, so only a few soldiers in each company in any given war would have a musket (if any at all). That meant that battles were still much like Medieval-style battles, involving much close combat and spear and pike charges and defense formations. That made combat particularly dangerous, especially for combat leaders, who had to be close to their soldiers (and thus, the enemy) to properly command the fighting. Ulrich Zwingli was ultimately mortally wounded on the battlefield. His death was rather curious, so I shall go into that briefly.
Basically, the Catholic forces of this particular battle had won the day. During a pause in the fighting, some Swiss Catholic soldiers began to search through the fields of dead and wounded soldiers to look for survivors and/or retrieve weapons and ammunition. As they searched, they stumbled upon the dying Ulrich Zwingli. The poor man was lying flat on his back, praying, concentrating his sight toward the heavens. The Catholics, though they were his enemy, felt some Christian sympathy for him, as they offered to fetch a priest to pray for him in his dying moments.
But Zwingli did now want a Catholic priest to pray for him, as he was a Protestant. He turned down their offer by simply shaking his head without changing his plain facial expression. The Christian soldiers were a little taken back by this, so they again offered him their prayers. Zwingli shook his head again and continued to pray silently. The Catholic soldiers continued to offer to find a priest, and eventually they got so impatient with him, that they acted. Captain Fuckinger of Unterwalden (I kind of feel bad that this guy’s name started with those four letters) grabbed a spear, and plunged it into Ulrich Zwingli’s chest.
The Christians took this all so seriously that they brought Zwingli’s corpse back to their lines, chopped it up into tiny pieces, burned those pieces, and scattered the ashes. Because, apparently the only way to kill religious leaders is like you would a vampire from “Twilight” (I’ve actually never seen the moves…I just know about them). And just to show once again how intolerant Protestant religions were of one another: one account states that when Martin Luther was informed of Zwingli’s gory demise, he said, “he got what he deserved.” Regardless, Zurich would continue to reform their churches, and Zwinglianism remained a fairly prominent branch of the Christian faith in Switzerland.
Ok, so now we’ve discussed a few of the important developments about two new Protestant religions. Are you still with me? Great (I can only assume that you are still reading this). In that case, let us delve into our next religion: Anabaptism. This branch of Christianity even went a little further to the extremes than the Lutherans and Zwinglianists did. The Anabaptists were mostly poor workers, peasants, weavers, miners, and artisans. They did not bear arms, and they opposed the idea of secularism. They also were composed only of baptized adults, as they believed that children should not be baptized, because children were not yet old enough to make their own decisions on religion. The Anabaptists typically believed that no one should be forced to be a Christian, and by not baptizing children, they saw themselves as giving children the right to determine for themselves what they wanted to devote their lives to, rather than have it decided upon for them.
Honestly, with this information, Anabaptism seemed like a fairly reasonable and tolerant religion, and yet, it was one of the most hated of the Protestant religions, even among other Protestants. Most likely, the haters of this religion saw the, um, controversial aspects of it rather than the reasonable ones. Anabaptist followers were more or less split into two groups: Melchiorites and Mennonites. The Melchiorites believed that the end of the world was basically just around the corner (this was known as millennialism), and the Mennonites sought to isolate themselves off from the rest of the world. Though this religion technically began in Friesland, it, like the others mentioned and still yet to be mentioned, swiftly began to spread around Europe.
However, similar to the Mormons in the U.S. three hundred years later, the Anabaptists were ruthlessly persecuted, and persecuted by pretty much every other religion out there. One group of Anabaptists, known as the Swiss Brethren, would even be forced out of Zurich by Zwinglianists Their image would not improve during the Dutch Revolt (I am not exactly sure which one, as there have been many Dutch Revolts, but I do not think that this one has any association with the Eighty Year’s War, which I will also discuss later in this post).
This particular Dutch revolt took place in present-Germany, actually. The Anabaptists were set on establishing a holy city in the city of Munster. They stormed the city, took it over, and chased out all of its inhabitants (I am unsure of how this correlated or went against their rule about not bearing arms or forcing Christanity upon others, but for the sake of being concise, we will not get into that now). They then burned every book they could find within the city (except for the Bible). Their new leader, John of Leiden (1509-1536), wanted to lead the Anabaptists in a global war to prepare for Jesus’s second coming.
Remember how I stated earlier that all of these religions never got along? Well, that was not entirely true. In select instances, they would occasionally work together. This was one of those instances. A joint force of the Lutherans and Catholics stormed Munster and slaughtered the Anabaptists (from a historical perspective, much of the Protestant Reformation was just people of one religion going to war with people of some other religion). For some reason, no matter what their differences were, most of the major Christian religions of Europe had one thing in common: they generally despised the Anabaptists.
Now, this next religion I really, really want to go into great detail. However, this post is already running on long, so I will have to shorten it drastically. Now we shall be discussing Anglicanism. This religion is commonly known as that founded by King Henry Tudor VIII (1491-1547) (I shall really have to make a post about the Tudor Dynasty). The infamous king married six times, divorcing five of his wives, and dying during his sixth marriage. He had three children over the course of his life (Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth, all of home would rule England at some time or another).
I will not go into the specific names and personalities of King Henry VIII’s wives (if I actually do end up writing a post on the Tudor Dynasty, believe me, I will), but I find this neat little poem helpful in recalling how his marriages tended to work out: “six wives to which King Henry was wedded; three died, one outlived him, and two were beheaded.” (I first heard this poem in sixth grade, and I’ve remembered it ever since). Let’s not get into whether this was morally just. And that excludes the fact that King Henry VIII, though apparently quite handsome in his youth, acquired a number of health problems and gained a lot of weight as he grew older (at one point, he was wounded in his right knee during a jousting tournament, and his knee would secrete pus for the rest of his life).
As one can imagine, however, the clergy were not happy about divorcing King Henry VIII so many times. Finally, Pope Clement VII (if you read my post on the Schism, that name would sound familiar) (1478-1534) warned that if King Henry remarried again, he would face excommunication from the Catholic Church. In response to this, King Henry, in 1534, passed the Act of Supremacy, declaring that the new English faith was not Catholicism, but instead that of the Church of England (Anglicanism). This assertion would be threatened, however, with the ascent of Queen Mary I (called “Bloody Mary,” as she burned Protestants alive), who was staunchly Catholic. However, by the time Elizabeth I came to rule England, the nation was once against Protestant (and had actually become quite religiously tolerant. Under Elizabeth I’s rule, even atheism, if practiced respectfully, was technically allowed).
Now, before I get into some major wars of the Protestant Reformation, some other major acts of bloodshed, and the Counterreformation, allow me to describe one last major Protestant faith: Calvinism. John Calvin (1509-1564), similarly to the other Protestant reformers mentioned, was appalled at the acts of selling indulgences and nepotism in the Catholic Church. John Calvin was also a Christian humanist. The beliefs of Calvinism were quickly accepted across much of Europe. This branch of Protestantism is largely defined by the belief in predestination, or, as the Calvinists put it, the notion “that God had predestined some people to be saved (elect), and others to be damned (reprobate).” So, basically, according to Calvinism, one was born fated either to go to Heaven, or to Hell. As I just stated, this religion swept Europe. Calvinists in England were known as Puritans (they believed that all pleasures are sinful), and those in France were know as Huguenots.
In fact, the presence of both Catholics and Huguenots in France would lead to one of the most gory incidents during the Protestant Reformation, and, frankly, one of the goriest events I have ever studied. If you have studied the Reformation in depth, then you already know where this is going. Ok, this can get very confusing, and my job as a historian is to make it simple, so please just bear with me as I explain the events of 1572, in France. However, the causes behind this event are so amazing in their complexity that you would be treating yourself to a high standard if you did some research on it on your own (so many King Henry’s, am I right?).
Catherine de’ Medici (1519-1589) was the Queen of France during the late 1500s. However, she would never rule on her own. This was because she had a husband and several sons. However, her husband, King Henry II (11519-1559), was accidentally killed during a tennis tournament. The tennis ball ricocheted off of a wooden doorframe, splintering the door, and one of those splinters went right into the king’s eye. Though the royal surgeons did all they could to save him, his brain was too severely damaged and he met his demise in 1559. His heir to the throne was Francis II (1554-1560).
Catherine de’ Medici had not approved of how susceptible to external influences Francis II had been. She was also a staunch Catholic. That noted, when her next son, King Charles IX (1550-1574), took the throne, she was highly malcontent with his chief advisor: Admiral Coligny (1519-1572), a Huguenot. Sources have it that this advisor was not only a close friend of Charles IX, but had also successfully urged him to approve plans for the (technically Catholic) nation of France to aid the (Protestant) Huguenots against the Spanish in an epic war. Catherine decided to hatch a plan to have Coligny killed.
The assissination was to take place during the wedding of her daughter, Margot (1553-1651). Margot was in love with King Henry (another one) of Guies (1550-1588), however, she was to be forcibly married to Henry of Navarre (1553-1610). Henry of Navarre was also a Huguenot. The marriage between him and Margot was to be one symbolizing the unity of the Catholics and the Huguenots, as well as the kingdoms of France and Navarre, so it was all the more ironic that Catherine had planned to assassinate Admiral Coligny during this event.
I honestly feel pretty bad for both Margot and Henry of Navarre. Margot did not want to marry him, and Henry of Navarre, knew this, and so he felt bad about marrying her, but their parents gave them no choice. Apparently, when they were being wed, in a cathedral in Paris, when the priest asked Margot if she would take Henry of Navarre as her husband, she remained silent, looking down. The priest could not get her to reply, so Catherine grabbed her daughter’s hair, and forced her to nod. The priest took this as a yes, and the couple were (unhappily) wed.
Because a Catholic and a Huguenot were being married, for the whole week in Paris, members of both religions actually managed to forget their differences and maintain festivities. However, Catherine had hired a sniper to take out Admiral Coligny. On the evening of August 21, 1572, the sniper hired by Catherine tracked down Coligny, who was on his way home. By sheer chance, Coligny bent down to adjust his belt buckle right as the sniper fired, so he was not killed. The bullet did, however, blow off a few of Coligny’s fingers. He rushed home to recover.
Catherine, as soon as she heard that the assassination failed, realized that if her son, King Charles IX, found out about the attempted assassination, he could potentially trace it to her, or worse, even further support the coming war. Catherine drafted a quick plan to exterminate all of the Huguenot leaders in Paris before the plot against Coligny’s life could be tracked back to her. She presented this document to her son, the current king, in a frenzy. Charles IX, more afraid of his mother (she was quite cruel to all of her children) than he was of the Huguenots, agreed to the motion. However, as soon as it was enacted, two days after the failed assignation of Coligny, all havoc broke loose.
The Catholics who had overheard the conversation between Charles and his mother assumed that they had the green light to terminate any Huguenots they could find, and they spread the (misinterpreted) word rapidly. What followed was known as the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre (1572). You can look up paintings and sketches of this event if you wish, and they are very gory. People not only killed each other, but did so in the most horrific and bloody ways possible (I once wrote a post exclusively about torture throughout history, and I still do not feel comfortable describing the details of this massacre). In fact, within a day, the massacre had got so out of hand that it was not just the Catholics and Huguenots killing each other, but people killing whoever they owed money to, had been treated poorly by in the past, and even people they just didn't like. The massacre would claim three thousand lives in Paris alone (some estimates have predicted this number as high as seventy thousand, across all of France).
In case you were wondering, Admiral Coligny had his door broken down by Catholic civilians, was stabbed to death in his bed, and then had a noose tied around his corpse’s neck before he was thrust out his window and left there to dangle. Henry of Navarre was almost killed, as he was a Huguenot, but Catherine gave him the chance to pledge himself a Catholic (I guess that killing a son-in-law produces many complications). He agreed, valuing his life more than his religious standing. However, after he was once again safe and the massacre had ended, he declared that he was still a Huguenot. The massacre also started the French Civil War (also known as the French Wars of Religion).
So, how did it all end? Well, after King Charles IX’s death in 1574, Catherine’s last son inherited the throne: King Henry III (1551- 1588) (why did these people have to name their children with the same names over and over?). What about that Henry that Margot actually loved, Henry of Guies? Well, he would convince her husband, Henry of Navarre, to formulate a plan to assonate Henry III. The plan worked, and Henry of Guies ruled the throne for a very short time. This was because some people caught wind of his involvement in the assassination of the former king, and in turn, he was assassinated. That left Henry of Navarre, Margot’s husband.
He became King Henry IV on the condition that he once again renounce Calvinism in favor of Catholicism, which he did. He was known as “the good king,” or “The Good King Henry,” and (though I know I am trying to keep my opinion out of this as much as possible) in truth, he was actually pretty good. Though he was technically now a Catholic, he still never forgot about the Huguenots, and in 1598, he passed the Edict of Nantes, which allowed French citizens the right to be Catholic or Calvinist and ended the French Civil War (however, this edict would be undone under the rule of Louis XIV by his cardinal, Cardinal Mazarin, with the Edict of Fontainebleau, in 1685).
And lastly, in case you were wondering, how did the marriage between Henry IV and Margot turn out? Well, because the man she had loved was dead, and she inherited the title of the Queen of France after her mother, Catherine, died, she and and Henry remained wedded. Though they never truly loved each other, they did respect each other, and they actually did become quite friendly with each other. In fact, they would have several children. So, in this essence, that’s about as close to a happy ending as you can get (or perhaps not, because Henry would be assissanited in 1610).
Right, now I have covered the bulk of the Protestant Reformation. Before I discuss the end of the Reformation, I want to get into just a little bit of the Counter-Reformation. As implied by the title, it was conducted in opposition to the Protestant Reformation. These were the Catholic Church’s efforts - and the efforts of Catholic rulers - to reinstitute Catholicism across Europe and ensure its spread elsewhere. So how did it go? Let’s start with some of the failures of the Counter-Reformation.
We’ll start with King Philip II of Spain (1526-1598). King Philip II was the son of Charles V, of the HRE (remember him?). Philip II was also known as “the most Catholic king,” and for good reason. While his dedication to the ideals of Catholicism could be debated, one thing is clear: this guy wanted to make sure that Catholicism was the only religion around. He fully endorsed the Spanish Inquisition (established prior to his rule), which allowed papal authority to torture Jews and Muslims until they converted to Christianity and allowed the Spanish authorities to chase those who were not Christian out of Spain.
Arguably Philip II’s greatest failure, and the perhaps the greatest failure of the Counter-Reformation, was the Eighty Years’ War (1568-1648). This was a military conflict largely between the people who inhabited the present-day Netherlands and Spain. Prior to 1568, Spain owned the Netherlands, and as history has shown us, when the ruler of a land lives very far away from that land, it creates some problems. One of the reasons for which the Dutch decided to break away from Spain was because they were so far apart from them, that they couldn’t get permission to do anything. If they sent a message to Madrid to confirm that a course of action in the Netherlands was ok with the king, it would take two to three weeks, or even longer, to hear a response.
The main reason, however, that the Dutch broke away, was arguably that they were largely a Protestant people. Spain enforced strict rules that persecuted non-Catholics, and the Protestant (mostly-Calvinist) Netherlands finally declared that they would not stand for it any longer in 1568. In 1581, roughly thirteen years after the Eighty Years’ War had started, the Dutch Republic was established. King Philip II would spend mass amounts of money to send armies into the Netherlands, only to be pushed back again and again. The fighting died down around 1600, but it was reignited with the start of the Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648) in 1618. All in all, however, the Netherlands would win their independence from Spain in 1848, when both the Thirty Years’ War and the Eighty Years’ War ended.
That was not Philip’s only bumble, though. He had once been married to Mary I (remember when we learned about “Bloody Mary?”), of England. When her sister, Elizabeth I, became Queen of England and reestablished Protestantism in the nation, Philip II sought to invade the country. My favorite lesson of history: never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever try to go to war with England. England has fought hundreds and hundreds of wars, and they’ve only lost about five or six (the American Revolution, the Irish Revolution, the Hundred Years’ War, and, technically, the English Civil War, if you think about it. There are probably one or two more, but these are the ones that I can think of off the top of my head). And, at the very least, don’t try to invade England! Well, King Philip II thought he could.
He commissioned the Spanish Armada to carry out the task. It was a fleet of over one hundred poorly-constructed wooden ships, undersupplied and ill equipped for the voyage, and crewed by largely undertrained sailors and soldiers. The English ships, on the other hand, were crewed by expert naval men and had many cannons. I once read a rather interesting conversation between a high-ranking member of the clergy, his assistant, and one of the leaders of the Armada before they left for England.
If I recall correctly, the assistant inquired the Spanish military leader of their plan to defeat the well-equipped English ships, and you would not believe the military leader’s response. He reasoned that, because the Spanish were fighting in the name of God, surely God would ensure their victory. He predicted that God would send some “freak of nature” to wreck then English ships, but expected that what would most likely happen was that God would make the “English lose their wit.” So the Spanish Armada was ill suited to fight England, and their main plan was to rely on divine intervention.
When the Armada sailed off to the coast of Wessex in 1588, they were immediately met with heavy English opposition. The Armada was crushed, and due to the position of the English navy, they were in no position to sail back to Spain. Instead, they had to sail all the way around England, where they were attacked often by English ships. The Spanish did attempt to land their soldiers at several points as they sailed around the British Isles, but the effort utterly failed, costing the Spanish government lots and lots of money.
In fact, the money that Philip II was spending on his wars was not the only reason for the Spanish economic downfall. Thanks to the conquering Europeans being sent to the New World, gold came back to Spain by the shipload. The abundance of precious metals flooded the metal market, and led to hyper inflation in the Spanish economy. Philip II of Spain is largely remembered for ruining the country economically and pursuing unrealistic military goals. The only other major effort that Philip II pursued in the name of spreading Catholicism was his effort to convert indigenous peoples in the New World to the religion (this also largely failed).
However, the Counter-Reformation did achieve some success. Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556) created what became known as the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) in 1534. He had once been a soldier, but suffered an injury and then a religious torment that led to his deep connection with the Catholic Church. The Jesuits believed in “conflict for God,” and they typically used education to achieve their goals. They taught obedience to papacy, a hierarchal order for society, and were established in a very similar structure to a military command. Their goal was to restore Catholicism on a large scale. They did this by sending missionaries all over the world (even to the New World).
Another success of the Counter-Reformation was the Council of Trent (1545-1563). Summoned by Pope Paul III (1468-1549), it was meant to solve “religious differences created by the Protestant revolt.” Trent was a city between Germany and Italy, and the clergy in attendance were originally supposed to meet there every year. However, due to the outbreak of plague and various wars, they met only three times. Their original goal, to discover ways to attract Protestants back to the Catholic Church, actually resulted in the strengthening and unification of the Catholic Church. They also, I believe, cleaned up a lot of the corruption that had been going on within the Church.
So, we have discussed much of the Protestant and Counter Reformations, but how did it all end? Well, most historians agree that the Protestant Reformation ended with the conclusion of “the Last of the Religious Wars,” more commonly known as the Thirty Years’ War, which ended in 1648. One main reason for why it started has to do with the fact that the Germans had begun to shift from Lutheranism to Calvinism, which they technically were not allowed to do. I will not go into this conflict, though, because I have already written a post on it. The war finally resulted in religious freedom in Germany, for one. I will say, compared to the amount of people alive on Earth at the time, many historians (myself included) consider the Thirty Years’ War to be the single deadliest event in human history. It was just so massive, and if you want to learn about this war and the end of the Protestant Reformation more in-depth, I highly recommend you visit my account, scroll down until you find the post, and read it (it’s titled “The Deadliest Event in History: The Thirty Years’ War”).
And that concludes my little lecture on the Protestant Reformation. One aspect of being a historian is to simply know about history (what happened on what date, who killed who, who did what, and so forth), but another important aspect of it is determining what we today can learn from it. When I look at the Protestant Reformation, I honestly feel bad for everyone who was involved. The entire thing was basically army after religious army attacking one another. And what’s shocking is that not much changed after each wave of fighting.
Sure, some cities were left in ashes, and many people were killed, and rulers came and were overthrown. But in the grand scheme of things, it seems that right after one war ended, another war would begin involving the same place and people. Let’s have this be our main takeaway: just be respectful of other’s religions and philosophies. Much of the wars I just discussed could have been avoided if people had simply respected each other’s religious beliefs (granted, many of these conflicts did also have political reasons for which they were fought). Religion was such a large part of society back then, that it does almost make sense that people should want to go to war over it. But today? The best we can do for ourselves and our fellow humans is to simply remain respectful.
I, for example, am a nihilist. And yet, I have friends who are Catholic, Lutheran, Mormon, Anglican, Baptist, Jewish, Buddhist, atheist, naturalist, utilitarianist, absurdist, and of many more philosophies. We all get along fine (and, quite frankly, we have fun debating each others’ religions and philosophies from time to time). We’re on this Earth a short time, so let’s all simply respect the philosophical views of our neighbors and not spend our entire lives fighting over them.
Whew! This is easily my longest post. Simply to place it into perspective, most of my history posts take one or two hours to write: I spent almost a week writing this one. This is by far the most entertaining - well, fun, to be vulgar - history post that I have ever composed, and likely my favorite post of all so far. If you did make it all the way to the end, you must be pretty interested in this subject. I hope you enjoyed reading this, and you are one amazing reader and historian to want to learn about this on your own incentive. No one made you read this post: you read it because you found it interesting. This may be my last history post for a while, as I begin to work on other projects, so thank you so much for tagging along for the ride! See you next time.