We can not support the burden of these frequent diets, involving the expense of long journeys, and we are weary of expeditions and wars.
If the emperor enters into treaties with France and the pope without consulting us, it is his concern and not ours, and we are not bound to aid him to fulfill his agreement.

And even if we were to vote the succors which are now asked of us, we should only be involved in embarrassment and disgrace, as we have been by the previous enterprises of the emperor." Such, in brief, was the response of the diet.

It drew from the emperor a long defense of his conduct, which he called an "Apology," and which is considered one of the most curious and characteristic documents of those days.

He made no attempt to conceal his vexation, but assailed them in strong language of reproach.
"I have concluded a treaty with my allies," he wrote, "in conformity to the dictates of conscience and duty, and for the honor, glory and happiness of the empire and of Christendom.

The negotiation could not be postponed, and if I had convoked a diet to demand the advice of the States, the treaty would never have been concluded.