The world was not yet sufficiently enlightened to comprehend the beauty of a true toleration, entire freedom of conscience and of worship.  After long and very exciting debates—­after being again and again at the point of grasping their arms anew—­they finally agreed that the Protestants should enjoy the free exercise of their religion wherever Protestantism had been established and recognized by the Confession of Augsburg.  That in all other places Protestant princes might prohibit the Catholic religion in their States, and Catholic princes prohibit the Protestant religion.  But in each case the ejected party was at liberty to sell their property and move without molestation to some State where their religion was dominant.  In the free cities of the empire, where both religions were established, both were to be tolerated.

Thus far, and no further, had the spirit of toleration made progress in the middle of the sixteenth century.

Such was the basis of the pacification.  Neither party was satisfied.  Each felt that it had surrendered far too much to the other; and there was subsequently much disagreement respecting the interpretation of some of the most important articles.  The pope, Paul IV., was indignant that such toleration had been granted to the Protestants, and threatened the emperor and his brother Ferdinand of Austria with excommunication if they did not declare these decrees null and void throughout their dominions.  At the same time he entered into correspondence with Henry II. of France to form a new holy league for the defense of the papal church against the inroads of heresy.

And now occurred one of the most extraordinary events which history has recorded.  Charles V., who had been the most enterprising and ambitious prince in Europe, and the most insatiable in his thirst for power, became the victim of the most extreme despondency.  Harassed by the perplexities which pressed in upon him from his widely-extended realms, annoyed by the undutiful and haughty conduct of his son, who was endeavoring to wrest authority from his father by taking advantage of all his misfortunes, and perhaps inheriting a melancholy temperament from his mother, who died in the glooms of insanity, and, more than all, mortified and wounded by so sudden and so vast a reverse of fortune, in which all his plans seemed to have failed—­thus oppressed, humbled, he retired in disgust to his room, indulged in the most fretful temper, admitted none but his sister and a few confidential servants to his presence, and so entirely neglected all business as to pass nine months without signing a single paper.