HISTORY OF THE GREAT REFORMATION OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY IN GERMANY, SWITZERLAND, ETC. BY J. H. MERLE D'AUBIGNE, ' PRESIDENT OF THE THEOLOGICAL SCHOOL OF GENEVA, AND MEMBER OF THE SOCIETE EVANGELIQUE." JAMES M. CAMPBELL & CO., 98 CHESTNUT ST. SAXTON & MILES, 205 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON. 1844. PREFACE. THE work I have undertaken is not the history of a party. It is the history of one of the greatest revolutions ever effected in human affairs, the history of a mighty impulse communicated to the world three centuries ago, and of which the opera- tion is still everywhere discernible in our own days. The history of the Reformation is altogether dis- tinct from the history of Protestantism. In the former all bears the character of a regeneration of human nature, a religious and social transfor- mation emanating from God himself. In the latter, we see too often a glaring depravation of first prin- ciples, the conflict of parties, a sectarian spirit, and the operation of private interests. The history of Protestantism might claim the attention only of Protestants. The history of the Refo;ma- tion is a book for all Christians, or rather for all mankind. An historian may choose his portion in the field before him. He may narrate the great events which change the exterior aspect of a nation, or of the world ; or he -may record that tranquil pro- gression of a nation, of the church, or of mankind, which generally follows mighty changes in social relations. Both these departments of history are of high importance. But the public interest has seemed to turn, by preference, to those periods which, under the name of Revolutions, bring forth a nation, or society at large, for a new era, and to a new career. Of the last kind is the transformation which, with very feeble powers, I have attempted to describe, in the hope that the beauty of the sub- ject will compensate for my insufficiency. The name of revolution which I here give to it, is, in our days, brought into discredit with many who almost confound it with revolt. But this is to mistake its meaning. A revolution is a change wrought in human affairs. It is a something new which unrolls itself from the bosom of humanity ; and the word, previously to the close of the last century, was more frequently understood in a good sense than in a bad one: "a happy a wonderful Revolution" was the expression. The Reformation, being the re-establishment of the principles of primitive Christianity, was the reverse of a revolt. It was a movement regenerative of that which was destined to revive ; but conserva- tive of that which is to stand forever. Christianity and the Reformation, while they established the great principle of the equality of souls in the sight of God, and overturned the usurpations of a proud priesthood, which assumed to place itself between the Creator and his creature, at the same time laid down as a first element of social order, that there is no power but what is of God, and called on all men to love the brethren, to fear God, to honour the king. The Reformation is entirely distinguished from the revolutions of antiquity, and from the greater part of those of modern times. In these, the question is one of politics, and the object proposed is the establishment or overthrow of the power of the one or of the many. The love of truth, of holiness, of eternal things, was the simple and powerful spring which gave effect to that which we have to narrate. It is the evidence of a gradual ad- vance in human nature. In truth, if man, instead of seeking only material, temporal, and earthly interests, aims at a higher object, and seeks spi- ritual and immortal blessings, he advances, he progresses. The Reformation is one of the most memorable days of this progress. It is a pledge that the struggle of our own times will terminate in favour of truth, by a triumph yet more spiritual and glorious. Christianity and the Reformation are two of the greatest revolutions in history. They were not limited to one nation, like the various political movements which history records, but extended to many nations, and their effects are destined to be felt to the ends of the earth. Christianity and the Reformation are, indeed, the same revolution, but working at different pe- riods, and in dissimilar circumstances. They differ in secondary features : -'they are alike in their first lines and leading characteristics. The one is the re-appearance of the other. The former closes the old order of things ; the latter begins the new. Between them is the middle age. One is the parent of the other ; and if the daughter is, in some respects, inferior, she has, in others, cha- racters, altogether peculiar to herself. The suddenness of its action is one of these characters of the Reformation. The great revo- lutions which have drawn after them the fall of a monarchy, or an entire change of political system, or launched the human mind in a new career of development, have been slowly and gradually prepared ; the power to be displaced has long been mined, and its principal supports have given way. It was even thus at the introduction of Christianity, But the Reformation, at the first glance, seems to offer a different aspect. The Church of Rome is seen, under Leo X., in all its strength and glory. A monk speaks, and in the half of Europe this power and glory suddenly crumble into dust. This revolution Reminds us of the words by which the Son of God announces his second advent: "As the lightning cometh forth from the west and shineth unto the east, so shall also the coming of the Son of man be." This rapidity is inexplicable to those who see in this great event only a reform ; who make it simply an act of critical judgment, consisting in a choice of doctrines, the abandoning of some, the preserving others, and combining those retained, so as to make of them a new code of doctrine. How could an entire people ? how could many nations have so rapidly performed so difficult a work ? How could such an act of critical judgment kindle the enthusiasm indispensable to great and especially to sudden revolutions ? But the Refor- mation was an event of a very different kind ; and this its history will prove. It was the pouring forth anew of that life which Christianity had brought into the world. It was the triumph of the noblest of dpctrines-yof that which animates those who receive it with the purest and most powerful enthusiasm, the doctrine of Faith the doctrine of Grace. If the Reformation had been what many Catholics and Protestants imagine, if it had been that negative system of a negative reason, which rejects with childish impatience PREFACE. whatever displeases it, and disowns the grand ideas and leading truths of universal Christianity, it would never have overpassed the threshold of an academy, of a cloister or even of a monk's cell. But it had no sympathy with what is com- monly intended by the word Protestantism. Far from having sustained any loss of vital energy, it arose at once like a man full of strength and reso- lution. Two considerations will account for the rapidity and extent of this revolution. One of these must be sought in God, the other among men. The impulse was given by an unseen hand of power, and the change which took place was the work of God, This will be the conclusion arrived at by every one who considers the subject with im- partiality and attention, and does not rest in a superficial view. But the historian has a further office to perform : God acts by second causes. Many circumstances, which have often escaped observation, gradually prepared men for the great transformation of the sixteenth century, so that the human mind was ripe when the hour of its emancipation arrived. The office of the historian is to combine these two principal elements in the picture he presents. This is what is attempted in the present work. We shall be easily understood, so long as we investigate the secondary causes which contributed to bring about the revolution we have undertaken to describe. Many will, perhaps, be slower of comprehension, and will be inclined even to charge us with superstition, when we shall ascribe to God the accomplishment of the work. And yet that thought is what we particularly cherish. The history takes as its guiding star the simple and pregnant truth that GOD is IN HISTORY. But this truth is commonly forgotten, and sometimes dis- puted. It seems fit, therefore, that we should open our views, and by so doing justify the course we have taken. In these days, history can no longer be that dead letter of facts to recording which the majority of the earlier historians confined themselves. It is felt that, as in man's nature, so in his history, there are two elements, matter and spirit. Our great writers, unwilling to restrict themselves to the production of a simple recital, which would have been but a barren chronicle, have sought for some principle of life to animate the materials of the past. Some have borrowed such a principle from the rules of art ; they have aimed at the simplicity, truth, and picturesque of description ; and have endeavoured to make their narratives live by the interest of the events themselves. Others have sought in philosophy the spirit which should fecundate their, labours. With incidents they have intermingled reflections, instructions, political and philosophic truths, and have thus enlivened their recitals with a moral which they have elicited from them, or ideas they have been able to associate with them. Both these methods are, doubtless, useful, and should be employed within certain limits. But there is another source whence we must above all seek for the ability to enter into the understanding, the mind, and the life of past ages; and this is Religion. History must live by that principle of life which is proper to it, and that life is God. He must be acknowledged and proclaimed in history ; and the course of events must be displayed as the annals of the government of a Supreme Disposer. I have descended into the lists to which the recitals of our historians attracted me. I have there seen the actions of men and of nations de- veloping themselves with power, and encountering in hostile collision ; I have heard I know not what clangour of arms ; but nowhere has my attention been directed to the majestic aspect of the Judge who presides over the struggle. And yet there is a principle of movement ema- nating from God himself in all the changes among nations. God looks upon that wide stage on which the generations of men successively meet and struggle. He is there, it is true, an invisible God ; but if the profaner multitude pass before Him with- out noticing Him, because he is "a God that hideth himself," thoughtful spirits, and such as feel their need of the principle of their being, seek him with the more earnestness, and are not satis- fied until they lie prostrate at his feet. And their search is richly rewarded. For, from the heights to which they are obliged to climb to meet their God, the world's history, instead of offering, as to the ignorant crowd, a confused chaos, appears a majestic temple, which the invisible hand ot God erects, and which rises to His glory above the rock of humanity. Shall we not acknowledge the hand of God in those great men, or in those mighty nations which arise, 1 come forth, as it were, from the dust of the earth, and give a new impulse, a new form, or a new destiny to human affairs ? Shall we not acknowledge His hand in those heroes who spring up among men at appointed times ; who display activity and energy beyond the ordinary limits of human strength ; and around whom individuals and nations gather, as if to a superior and myste- rious power ? Who launched them into the ex- panse of ages, like comets of vast extent and flam- ing trains, appearing at long intervals, to scatter among the superstitious tribes of men anticipations of plenty and joy or of calamities and terror? Who, but God himself? Alexander would seek his own origin in the abodes of the Divinity. And in the most irreligious age there is no eminent glory but is seen in some way or other seeking to connect itself with the idea of divine interposition. And those revolutions which, in their progress, precipitate dynasties and nations to the dust, those heaps of ruin which we meet with in the sands of the desert, those majestic remains which the field of human history offers to our reflection, do they not testify aloud to the truth that God is in History ? Gibbon, seated on the ancient Capitol, and con- templating its noble ruins, acknowledged the in- tervention of a superior destiny. He saw, he felt its presence ; wherever his eye turned it met him ; that shadow of a mysterious power re- appeared from behind every ruin ; and he con- ceived the project of depicting its operation in the disorganization, the decline, and the cor- ruption of that power of Rome which had enslaved the nations. Shall not that mighty hand which this man of admirable genius, but who had not bowed the knee to Jesus Christ, discerned among the scattered monuments of Romulus and of Marcus Aurelius, the busts of Cicero, and Virgil, Trajan's trophies, and Pompey's horses, be confessed by us as the hand of our God ? But what superior lustre does the truth that God is in history acquire under the Christian dispensation ? What is Jesus Christ but God's purpose in the world's history ? It was the dis- covery of Jesus Christ which admitted the greatest of modern historians* to the just comprehension of his subject. " The gospel," says he, "is the fulfilment of all hopes, the perfection of all philo- sophy, the interpreter of all revolutions, the key to all the seeming contradictions of the physical and moral world, it is life, it is immortality. Since I have known the Saviour, every thing is clear; with him, there is nothing I cannot solve."t Thus speaks this distinguished historian ; and, in truth, is it not the keystone of the arch, is it not the mysterious bond which holds together the things of the earth and connects them with those of heaven, that God has appeared in our nature ? What ! God has been born into this * John von Muller. t Lettre a C. Bonnet. PREFACE. world, and we are asked to think and write, as if He were not everywhere working out his own will in its history? Jesus Christ is the true God of human history ; the very lowliness of his ap- pearance may be regarded as one proof of it. If man designs a shade or a shelter upon earth, we look to see preparations, materials, scaffolding, and workmen. But God when he will give shade or shelter, takes the small seed which the new- born infant might clasp in its feeble hand, and de posits it in the bosom of the earth, and from that seed, imperceptible in its beginning, he produces the majestic tree, under whose spreading boughs the families of men may find shelter. To achieve great results by imperceptible means, is the law of the divine dealings. It is this law which has received its noblest il- lustration in Jesus Christ. The religion which has now taken possession of the gates of all na- tions, which at this hour reigns, or hovers over all the tribes of the earth, from east to west, and which even a sceptical philosophy is compelled to acknowledge as the spiritual and social law of this world ; that religion, than which there is nothing nobler under the vault of heaven, nay, in the very universe of creation ; what was its commencement ? . . . A child born in the meanest town of the most despised country of the earth ; a child whose mother had not even what falls to the lot of the most indigent and wretched wo- man of our cities, a room to bring forth in ; a child born in a stable and placed in an ox's crib . . . . O God ! I acknowledge thee there, and I adore thee. The Reformation recognised the same law of God's operations : and it had the consciousness that it fulfilled it. The thought that God is in history is often put forth by the Reformers. We find it on one occasion in particular expressed by Luther, under one of those comparisons familiar and grotesque, yet not without a certain sublimi- ty, which he took pleasure in using, that he might be understood by the people. "The world," said he one day, in a conversation with his friend at table, "the world is a vast and grand game of cards, made up of emperors, kings, and princes. The pope for several centuries has beaten emperors, princes, and kings. They have been put down and taken up by him. Then came our Lord God ; he dealt the cards ; he took the most worthless of them all, (Luther,) and with it he has beaten the Pope, the conqueror of the kings of the earth . . . There is the ace of God. ' He has cast down the mighty from their seats, and has exalted them of low degree,' as Mary says." The age of which I am about to retrace the history is most important for our own generation. Man, when he feels his weakness, is generally inclined to seek assistance in the institutions he sees standing around him, or else in groundless inventions of his imagination. The history of the Reformation shows that nothing new can be wrought with "old things," and that if, accord- ing to the Saviour's word, we need new bottles for new wine, we need also new wine for new bottles. The history of the Reformation directs men to God, who orders all events in history ; to that divine word, ever ancient in the eternal na- ture of the truths it contains, ever new in the regenerative influence it exercises, that word which, three centuries ago, purified society, brought back the faith of God to souls enfee- bled by superstition, and which, in every age of man's history, is the source whence cometh sal- vation. It is singular to observe many persons, impel- led by a vague desire to believe in something set- tled, addressing themselves now-a-days to old Catholicism. In one view, the movement is na- tural. Religion is so little known (in France) that men scarce think of finding it elsewhere than where they see it inscribed in large letters on a banner that time has made venerable. We do not say that all Catholicism is incapable of afford- ing to man what he stands in need of. We think Catholicism should be carefully distinguished from Popery. Popery is, in our judgment, an erroneous and destructive system ; but we are far from confounding Catholicism with Popery. How many respectable men, how many sincere Christians, has not the Catholic Church comprised within its pale ! What important services were rendered by Catholicism to the existing European nations, in the age of their first formation, at a period when itself was still richly imbued with the Gospel, and when Popery was as yet only seen behind it as a faint shadow ! But those times are past. In our day, attempts are made to re- connect Catholicism with Popery ; and if Catholic and Christian truths are put forward, they are but as baits made use of to draw men into the net of the hierarchy. There is, therefore, nothing to be hoped from that quarter. Has Popery renounced so much as one of its observances, of its doctrines, or of its claims? The religion which was insup- portable in other ages will be less so in ours ? What regeneration has ever emanated from Rome? Is it irom that priestly hierarchy, full, even to overflow, of earthly passions, that that spirit of faith, of charity, of hope can come forth, which alone can save us ? Can an exhausted sys- tem, which has scarcely strength for its own need, and is everywhere in the struggles of death, living only by external aids, can such a sys- tem communicate life, and breathe throughout Christian society the heavenly breath that it re- quires ? This craving void in the heart and mind which betrays itself in our contemporaries, wil! lead others to apply to that modern Protestantism which has, in many parts, taken the place of the powerful doctrines of Apostles and Reformers ? A notable uncertainty of doctrine prevails in many of those Reformed churches whose first members sealed with their blood the clear and liv- ing faith that animated their hearts. Men distin- guished for their information, and, in all other things, susceptible of generous emotions, are found carried away into singular aberrations. A vague faith in the divine authority of the Gospel is the only standard they will maintain. But what is this Gospel ? The whole question turns on that ; and yet on that they are silent, or else each one speaks after his own mind. What avails it to know that God has placed in the midst of the nations a vessel containing their cure, if we are regardless what it contains, or fail to appropriate its contents to ourselves ? This system cannot fill up the void of the times. Whilst the faith of Apostles and Reformers discovers itself, at this day, everywhere active and effectual for the con- version of the world, this vague system does no- thing, throws lighten nothing, vivifies nothing. But let us not abandon all hopes. Does not Catholicism confess the great doctrines of Chris- tianity? does it not acknowledge the one God, Father, Son, and Spirit, Creator, Saviour, and Sanctifier? And that vague Protestantism, does it not hold in its hand the book of life, for conviction and instruction in righteousness ? And how many upright minds, honoured in the sight of men and beloved of God, are there not found among those subjected to these two systems ! How can we help loving them ? How refrain from ardently desiring their complete emancipa- tion from human elements ? Charity is boundless ; it embraces the most distant opinions to lead them to the feet of Jesus Christ. Already there are indications that these two extreme opinions are in motion, and drawing nearer to Jesus Christ, who is the centre of the A3 PREFACE. truth. Are there not already some Roman Ca- tholic congregations among whom the reading of the Bible is recommended and practised ? and as to Protestant rationalism, how many steps has it not already taken towards Jesus Christ? It never was the offspring of the Reformation; for the history of that great change will show that it was an epoch of faith : but may we not be permitted to hope that it is drawing nearer to it ? Will not the power of the truth come forth to it from the word of God ? and will not its coming have the effect of transforming it? Already we often see in it a feeling of religion, inadequate no doubt, but yet a movement in the direction of sound learning, encouraging us to look for more definite ad- vances. But modern Protestantism, like old Catholicism, is, in itself, a thing from which nothing can be hoped, a thing quite powerless. Something very different is necessary, to restore to men of our day the energy that saves. A something is requisite which is not of man, but of God. " Give me," said Archimedes, "a point out of the world, and I will raise the world from its poles." True Christianity is this standing beyond the world, which lifts the heart of man from its double pivot of selfishness and sensuality, and which will one day move the whole world from its evil way, and cause it to turn on a new axis of righteousness and peace. Whenever religion has been the subject of dis- cussion, there have been three points to which our attention have been directed. God, Man, -and the Priest. There can be but three kinds of reli- gion on this earth, God, Man, or the Priest, is its author or its head. 1 call that the religion of the Priest, which is devised by the priest, for the glory of the priest, and in which a priestly caste is do- minant. I apply the name of the religion of Man to those systems and various opinions framed by man's reason, and which, as they are the offspring of his infirmity, are, by consequence, destitute of all sanative efficacy. I apply the words religion of God, to the Truth, such as God himself has given it, and of which the object and the effect are God's glory and Man's salvation. Hierarchism, or the religion of the priest ; Chris- tianity or the religion of God ; rationalism, or the religion of man; such are the three doctrines which in our day divide Christendom. There is no salvation, either for man or society, in hierar- chism or in rationalism. Christianity alone can give life to the world ; and, unhappily, of the three prevailing systems, it is not that which numbers most followers. Some, however, it has. Christianity is operat- ing its work of regeneration among many Catho- lics of Germany, and doubtless also of other countries. It is now accomplishing it with more purity, and power, as we think, among the evan- gelical Christians of Switzerland, of France, of Great Britain, and of the United States. Blessed be God, such individual or social regenerations, wrought by the Gospel, are no longer in these days prodigies to be sought in ancient annals. We have ourselves witnessed a powerful awakening, begun in the midst of conflicts and trials, in a small republic, whose citizens live happy and tranquil in the bosom of the wonders with which creation surrounds them.* It is but a beginning ; and already from the plenteous horn of the Gospel we see come forth among this people a * Canton of Vaud. noble, elevated, and courageous profession of the great truths of God ; a liberty ample and real, a government full of zeal and intelligence ; an affec- tion, elsewhere too rarely found, of magistrates for people, and of the people for their magistrates; a powerful impulse communicated to education and general instruction, which will make of this coun- try an example for imitation ; a slow, but certain amelioration in morals ; men of talent, all Chris- tians, and who rival the first writers of our lan- guage. All these riches developed between the dark Jura and the summits of the Alps, on the magnificent shores of Lake Leman, must strike the traveller attracted thither by the wonders of those mountains and valleys, and present to his meditation one of the most eloquent pages which the Providence of God has inscribed in favour of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is the history of the Reformation in general that I propose to write. I intend to trace it among' different nations, to point out the same effects of the same truths, as well as the diversities which take their origin in the varieties of the na- tional character. But it is in Germany especially that we shall see and describe the history of the Reformation. It is there we find its primitive type ; it is there that it offers the fullest deve- lopment of its organization. It is there that it bears, above all, the marks of a revolution not confined to one or more nations, but, on the con- trary, affecting the world at large. The German Reformation is the true and fundamental Refor- mation. It is the great planet, and the rest revolve in wider or narrower circles around it, like sa- tellites drawn after it by its movement. And yet the Reformation in SWITZERLAND must, in some respects, be considered as an exception, both be- cause it took place at the very same time as that of Germany, and independently of it ; and because it bore, especially at a later period, some of those grander features which are seen in the Jatter. Notwithstanding that recollections of ancestry and of refuge, and the memory of struggle, suffering, and exile, endured in the cause of the Reforma- tion in France, give, in my view, a peculiar charm to the history of its vicissitudes, I never- theless doubt whether I could place it in the same rank as those which I have here spoken of. From what I have said, it will be seen that I believe the Reformation to be the work of God. Nevertheless, as its historian, I hope to be impar- tial. I think I have spoken of the principal Ro- man Catholic actors in the great drama, Leo X., Albert of Magdeburg, Charles V., and Doctor Eck, &c. more favourably than the majority of historians. And, on the other hand, I have had no wish to conceal the faults and errors of the Reformers. This history has heen drawn from the original sources with which a long residence in Germany, the Low Countries, and Switzerland has made me familiar : as well as from the study, in the original languages, of documents relating to the religious history of Great Britain and other coun- tries. Down to this time we possess no history of that remarkable period. Nothing indicated that the deficiency would be supplied when I com- menced this work. This circumstance could alone have led me to undertake it ; and I here allege it in my justification. The want still exists ; and I pray Him from whom cometh down every good gift, to cause that this work may, by His blessing, be made profitable to some who shall read it. IISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, BOOK I. STATE OP EUROPE PRIOR TO THE REFORMATION. Rise of the Papacy Early Encroachments Co-operation of the Bishops Unity of the Church- Visible Unity Primacy of St. Peter Patriarchates Policy of Rome Charlemagne Disorders of Rome Hildebrand The Crusades Spiritual Despotism Salvation by Grace Pelagianism The Church Penance Indulgences Purgatory Tax of Indulgences The Papacy and Chris- tianity Theology Dialectics Predestination Penance Religion Relics Morals Corruption Disorders of the Priests Bishops and Popes Alexander VI. Caesar Borgia General Corrup- tion Ciceronians Efforts for Reform Prospects of Christianity State of the Papacy Internal Divisions Carnality of the Church Popular Feeling Doctrine Development of Mind Revival of Letters Philosophy Principle of Reformation Witnesses Mystics Wiclif Huss Wit- nesses The Empire Peace State of the People State of Germany Switzerland Italy Spain Portugal France Low Countries England Bohemia and Hungary Frederic the Wise Men of Letters Reuchlin His Labours Reuchlin in Italy Contest with the Dominicans The Hebrew Writings Erasmus Erasmus and Luther Hutten Literae Obscurorum Virorum Hut- ten at Brussels Sickingen -Cronberg Hans Sachs General Ferment. THE world was tottering on its old founda- tions when Christianity appeared. The va- rious religions which had sufficed for an earlier age no longer satisfied the nations. The mind of the existing generation could no longer tabernacle in the ancient forms. The gods of the nations had lost their oracles as the nations had lost their liberty in Rome. Brought face to face in the Capitol, they had mutually destroyed the illusion of their di- vinity. A. vast void had ensued in the reli- gious opinions of mankind. A kind of Deism, destitute of spirit and vitality, hovered for a time over the abyss in which had been engulphed the superstitions of heathenism. But, like all negative opi- nions, it had no power to edify. The narrow prepossessions of the several nations had fallen with the fall of their gods, their va- rious populations melted, the one into the other. In Europe, Asia, Africa, all was but one vast empire, and the human family began to feel its comprehensiveness and its unity. Then the Word was made flesh. God appeared amongst men, and as Man, to save that which was lost. In Jesus of Na- zareth dwelt all the fulness of the Godhead bodily. This is the greatest event in the annals of all time. The former ages had been a prepa- ration for it; the latter unroll from it. It is their centre and connecting link. From this period the popular superstitions had no significancy, and such feeble relics of them as outlived the general wreck of incre- dulity, vanished before the majestic orb of eternal truth. The Son of Man lived thirty-three years on this earth. He suffered, he died, he rose again, he ascended into heaven. His disci- ples, beginning at Jerusalem, travelled over the Roman empire and the world, everywhere proclaiming their Master the author of ever- lasting salvation. From the midst of a peo- ple who rejected intercourse with others pro- ceeded a mercy that invited and embraced all. A great number of Asiatics, of Greeks, of Romans, hitherto led by their priests to the feet of dumb idols, believed at their word. *' The Gospel suddenly beamed on the earth like a ray of the sun," says Eusebius. A breath of life moved over this vast field of death. A new, a holy people was formed upon the earth; and the astonished world be- held in the disciples of the despised Galilean a purity, a self-denial, a charity, a heroism, of which they retained no idea. The new religion had two features amongst many others which especially distinguished it from all the human systems which fell be- fore it. One had reference to the ministers of its worship, the other to its doctrines. The ministers of paganism were almost the gods of those human inventions. The priests led the people, so long at least as their eyes were not opened. A vast and haughty hie- rarchy oppressed the world. Jesus Christ dethroned these living idols, abolished this proud hierarchy, took from man what man had taken from God, and re-established the soul in direct communication with the divine fountain of truth, by proclaiming himself the only Master and the only Mediator. " One is your master, even Christ, (said he,) and all ye are brethren." (Matt, xxiii.) As to doctrine, human religions had taught that salvation was of man. The religions of the earth had invented an earthly salvation. They had taught men that heaven would be given to them as a reward ; they had fixed its HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. price, and what a price . The religion of God taught that salvation was His gift, and ema- nated from an amnesty and sovereign grace. God hath given to us eternal life. (1 John v. 11.) Undoubtedly Christianity cannot be sum- med up in these two points : but they seem to govern the subject, especially when histori- cally viewed. And as it is impossible to trace the opposition between truth and error in all things, we have selected its most pro- minent features. Such were the two principles that com- posed the religion which then took possession of the Empire and of the whole world. The standing of a Christian is in them, and apart from them, Christianity itself disappears. On their preservation or their loss depended its decline or its growth. One of these prin- ciples was to govern the history of the reli- gion ; the other its doctrine. They both presided in the beginning. Let us see how they were lost: and let us first trace the fate of the former. The Church was in the beginning a com- munity of brethren. All its members were taught of God; and each possessed the liberty of drawing for himself from the divine foun- tain of life. John vi. 45. The epistles, which then settled the great questions of doctrine, did not bear the pompous title of any single man, or ruler. We find from the holy Scrip- tures that they began simply with these words: "The apostles, elders, and brethren, to our brethren." Acts xv. 23. But the writings of these very apostles forewarn us that from the midst of these bre- thren, there shall arise a power which shall overthrow this simple and primitive order. 2 Thess. ii. Let us contemplate the formation and trace the development of this power alien to the Church. Paul of Tarsus, one of the chiefest apostles of the new religion, had arrived at Rome, the capital of the empire and of the world, preach- ing the salvation that cometh from God only. A church was formed beside the throne of the Caesars. Founded by this same apostle, it was at first composed of converted Jews, Greeks, and some inhabitants of Rome. For a while it shone brightly as a light set upon a hill, and its faith was everywhere spoken of. But ere long it declined from its first simplicity The spiritual dominion of Rome arose as its political and military power had done before, and was slowly and gradually extended. The first pastors or bishops of Rome em- ployed themselves in the beginning in con- verting to the faith of Christ the towns and villages that surrounded the city. The neces- sity which the bishops and pastors felt of re- ferring in cases of difficulty to an enlightened guide, and the gratitude which they owed to the metropolitan church, led them to maintain an intimate union with her. As is generally the consequence in such circumstances, this reasonable union soon degenerated into de- pendence. The bishops of Rome regarded as a right the superiority which the neighbour- ing churches had voluntarily yielded. The encroachments of power form a large portion of all history : the resistance of those whose rights are invaded forms the other part : and the ecclesiastical power could not escape that intoxication which leads those who are lifted up to seek to raise themselves still higher. It felt all the influence of this general weakness of human nature. Nevertheless the supremacy of the Roman bishop was at first limited 1 to the overlooking of the churches, in the territory lawfully sub- ject to the prefect of Rome. But the rank which this imperial city held in the world offered to the ambition of its first pastors a prospect of wider sway. The consideration which the different Christian bishops enjoyed in the second century was in proportion to the rank of the city over which they presided. Rome was the greatest, the richest, and the most powerful city in the world. It was the seat of empire, the mother of nations. "All the inhabitants of the earth are hers," 2 said Julian, and Claudian declares her to be "the fountain of laws." 3 If Rome be the Queen of cities, why should not her pastor be the King of Bishops ? Why should not the Roman church be the mother of Christendom? Why should not all na- tions be her children, and her authority be the universal law? It was natural to the heart of man to reason thus. Ambitious Rome did so. Hence it was that when heathen Rome fell, she bequeathed to the humble minister of the God of peace, seated in the midst of her own ruins, the proud titles which her invincible sword had won from the nations of the earth. The bishops of the other parts of the Em- pire, yielding to the charm that Rome had exercised for ages over all nations, followed the example of the Campagna, and aided the work of usurpation. They willingly ren- dered to the Bishop of Rome something of that honour which was due to this Queen of cities : nor was there at first any thing of dependence in the honour thus yielded. They acted towards the Roman pastor as equals toward an equal ; 4 but usurped power swells like the avalanche. Exhortations, at first simply fraternal, soon became commands in the mouth of the Roman Pontiff. A chief place amongst equals appeared to him a throne. The Bishops of the West favoured this encroachment of the Roman pastors, either from jealousy of the Eastern bishops, or be- cause they preferred subjection to a pope to the dominion of a temporal power. On the other hand, the theological sects which distracted the east, strove, each for itself, to gain an interest at Rome, hoping to triumph over its opponents by the support of the principal of the Western churches. Rome carefully recorded these requests and intercessions, and smiled to see the nations throw themselves into her arms. She neg- HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. ected no opportunity of increasing and ex- tending her power. The praises, the flattery, and exaggerated compliments paid to her, and her being consulted by other churches, became in her hands as titles and documents of her authority. Such is the heart of man exalted to a tnrone; flattery intoxicates him, and his head grows dizzy. What he possesses im- pels him to aspire after more. The doctrine of " the Church," and of " the necessity for its visible unity," which had gained footing as early as the third century, favoured the pretensions of Rome. The great bond, which originally bound together the members of the church, was a living faith in the heart, by which all were joined to Christ as their one Head. But various causes ere long conspired to originate and develope the idea of a necessity for some exterior fellow- ship. Men, accustomed to the associations and political forms of an earthly country, car- ried their views and habits of mind into the spiritual and everlasting kingdom of Jesus Christ. Persecution powerless to destroy, or even to shake the new community, com- pressed it into the form of a more compacted body. To the errors that arose in the schools of deism, or in the various sects, was opposed * the truth " one and universal" received from the Apostles and preserved in the church. All this was well, so long as the invisible and spiritual church was identical with the visible and outward community. But soon a great distinction appeared : the form and the vital principle parted asunder. The semblance of identical and external organization was gradually substituted in place of the internal and spiritual unity which is the very essence of a religion proceeding from God. Men suf- fered the precious perfume of faith to escape while they bowed themselves before the empty vase that had held it. Faith in the heart no longer knit together in one the members of the church. Then it was that other ties were sought; and Christians were united by means of bishops, archbishops, popes, mitres, cere- monies, and canons. The Living Church re- tiring by degrees to the lonely sanctuary of a few solitary souls, an exterior church was substituted in place of it, and installed in all its forms as of divine institution. Salvation no longer flowing forth from that word which was now hidden it began to be affirmed that it was conveyed by means of certain invented forms, and that none could obtain it without resorting to such means ! No one, it was said, can by his faith attain to everlasting life : Christ communicated to the Apostles, and the Apostles to the Bishops, the unction of the Holy Spirit; and this Spirit is found only in this order of communication. In the begin- ning of the Gospel, whosoever had received the spirit of Jesus Christ was esteemed a member of the church : now the order was inverted ; and no one, unless a member of the church, was counted to have received the spirit of Jesus Christ. As soon as the notion of a supposed necessi- ty for a visible unity of the church had taken root,* another error began to spread : namely, that it was needful that there should be some outward representative of that unity. Though no trace of any primacy of St. Peter above the rest of the Apostles appears in the Gospels ; although the idea of a primacy is at variance with the mutual relations of the disciples as 44 brethren," and even with the spirit of the dispensation which requires all the children of the Father to minister one to another,* (1 Pet. iv. 10,) acknowledging but one Mas- ter and Head; and though the Lord Jesus had rebuked his disciples whenever their carnal hearts conceived desires of pre-emi- nence ; a Primacy of St. Peter was invent- ed, and supported by misinterpreted texts, and men proceeded to acknowledge in that Apostle, and in his pretended successor, the visible representative of visible unity and head of the whole Church ! The constitution of the patriarchate con- tributed further to the exaltation of the Ro- man Papacy. As early as the first three centuries, the churches of the metropolitan cities had been held in peculiar honour. The Council of Nice, in its sixth canon, named especially three cities, whose churches, ac- cording to it, held an anciently established au- thority over those of the surrounding provinces. ^ These were Alexandria, Rome, and Antioch. The political origin of this distinction may be discerned in the name which was at first given to the bishops of these cities ; they were called Exarchs, like the political governors. 5 In later times they bore the more ecclesiastical name of Patriarch. It is in the Council of Constantinople that we find this title first used. This same Council created a new Pa- triarchate, that of Constantinople itself, the new Rome, the second capital of the Empire. Rome at this period shared the rank of Patri- archate with these three churches. But when the invasion of Mahomet had swept away the bishoprics of Alexandria and Antioch, when the see of Constantinople fell away, and in latter times even separated itself from the West, Rome alone remained, and the circum- stances of the times causing everything to rally around her, she remained from that time without a rival. New and more powerful partisans than all the rest soon came to her assistance. Igno- rance and superstition took possession of the *From the previous reflections it is clear that the author does not disparage that Unity which is the manifested result of the partaking of the life of the Head by the members ; but only that life- less form of unity which man has devised in place of it. We learn from John xvii. 2123, that the true and real One-ness of BELIEVERS was to be manifested, so that the world might believe that the Father had sent Jesus. Hence we may con- clude that the things which divide, instead of ga- thering, the " little flock" are contrary to his mind : and among such things must be classed not alone the carnality of names, (1 Cor. iii. 4.) but every commandment or requirement of men that ex- cludes the very weakest whom God has received. (Rom. xiv. 1 3 ; Acts xi. 17. compare Acts ii, 44, &c.) Translator. HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. Church, and delivered it up to Rome, blind- fold and manacled. Yet this bringing into captivity was not effected without a struggle. The voices of particular churches frequently asserted their independence. This courageous remonstrance was especially heard in proconsular Africa and in the East. 6 To silence the cries of the churches, Rome found new allies. Princes, who in those troublesome times often saw their thrones tot- tering, offered their adherence to the Church, in exchange for her support. They yielded to her spiritual authority, on condition of her pay- ing them with secular dominion. They left her to deal at will with the souls of men, provided only she would deliver them from their ene- mies. The power of the hierarchy in the as- cending scale and of the imperial power which was declining, leaned thus one toward the other and so accelerated their twofold des- tiny. Rome could not lose by this. An edict of Theodosius II. and of Valentinian III. pro- claimed the bishop of Rome "ruler of the whole church." Justinian issued a similar decree. These decrees did not contain all that the Popes pretended to see in them. But those times of ignorance it was easy for them to gain reception for that interpretation which was most favourable to themselves. The dominion of the Emperors in Italy be- coming every day more precarious, the Bish- ops of Rome took advantage of it to withdraw themselves from their dependence. But already the forests of the North had poured forth the most effectual promoters of papal power. The barbarians who had in- vaded the West and settled themselves there- in, but recently converted to Christianity, ignorant of the spiritual character of the Church, and feeling the want of an external pomp of religion, prostrated themselves in a half savage and half heathen state of mind at the feet of the Chief Priest of Rome. At the same time the people of the W 7 est also sub- mitted to him. First the Vandals, then the Ostrogoths, a short time after the Burgundians and the Alains, then the Visigoths, and at last the Lombards and the Anglo-Saxons came bowing the knee to the Roman Pontiff. It was the sturdy shoulders of the idolatrous children of the North which elevated to the supreme throne of Christendom, a pastor of the banks of the Tiber. These events occurred in the West at the beginning of the seventh century, at the pre- cise period that the Mahometan power arose in the East, and prepared to overrun another division of the earth. From that time the evil continued increas- ing. In the eighth century we see the Bish- ops of Rome on the one hand resisting the Greek Emperors, their lawful sovereigns, and endeavouring to expel them from Italy; whilst on the other they court the French Mayors of the Palace, and demand from this new power now arising in the West, a share in the wreck of the empire. We see Rome establish her usurped authority between the East, which she repelled, and the West which she courted ; thus erecting her throne upon two revolutions. Alarmed by the progress of the Arabs, who had made themselves masters of Spain, and boasted that they would speedily traverse the Pyrenees and the Alps, and proclaim the name of Mahomet on the seven hills; terrified at the daring of Aistolpho, who, at the head of his Lombards, threatened to put every Roman 7 to death, and brandished his sword before the city gates Rome, in the prospect of ruin, turned on all sides for protection, and threw herself into the arms of the Franks. The usurper Pepin demanded the confirmation of his claim to the throne : the Pope granted it ; and, in return, obtained his declaration in de- fence of the " Republic of God." Pepin re- covered from the Lombards their conquests from the Emperor; but instead of restoring them to that Prince, he deposited the keys of the conquered cities on the altar of St. Peter's; and with uplifted hand, swore that it was net in the cause of man that he had taken arms, but to obtain from God the remission of his sins, and to do homage for his conquests to St. Peter! Thus did France establish the temporal power of the Popes. Charlemagne appeared. At one time we see him climbing the stairs of St. Peter's, de- voutly kissing the steps : again he presents himself, but it is as master of all the nations composing the Western Empire, and of Rome itself. Leo III. decided to confer the rank on one who already possessed the power; and in the year 800, on Christmas day, he placed the crown of the Roman Emperors on the brow of the son of Pepin. 8 From this period the Pope belonged to the empire of the Franks, and his connexion with the East was at an end : thus loosing his hold on a decayed tree, nodding to its fall, in order to graft himseli upon a wild but vigorous sapling. Little could he then have dared to hope for the elevation that awaited his successors among the German nations, to which he thus joined himself. Charlemagne bequeathed to his feeble suc- cessors only the wreck of his own power. In the ninth century disunion everywhere weak- ened the civil authority. Rome perceived that this was the moment to exalt herself. What better opportunity could offer for achiev- ing the Church's independence of the state, than when the crown of Charles was broken, and its fragments scattered over his former empire. It was then that the pretended decretals of Isidorus appeared. In this collection of alleged decrees of the Popes, the most ancient bish- ops, contemporaries of Tacitus and Quintilian, were made to speak the barbarous Latin of the ninth century. The customs and consti- tutions of the Franks were gravely attributed to the Romans in the time of the Emperors. Popes quoted the Bible in the Latin transla- tion of St. Jerome, who lived one, two, or three centuries after them. And Victor, bishop of Rome in the year 192, wrote to Theophilus, who was archbishop of Alexandria in 385. HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. e impostor who had fabricated this collec- tion, endeavoured to prove that all hishops derived their authority from the bishop of Rome, who held his own immediately from Christ. He not only recorded all the succes- sive acquisitions of the Pontiffs, but carried them back to the earliest times. The Popes did not blush to avail themselves of this con- temptible imposture. As early as 865, Nicho- las I. selected weapons from this repository to attack princes and bishops. 9 This bare- faced fabrication was for ages the arsenal of Rome. Nevertheless the vices and atrocities of the Pontiffs were such as suspended for a time the object of the decretals. The Papacy sig- nalized its sitting down at the table of Kings by shameful libations ; and intoxication and madness reigned in its orgies. About this time tradition places upon the Papal throne a girl named Joan, who had taken refuge at Rome with her lover, and whose sex was be- trayed by the pains of child-birth coming upon her in the midst of a solemn procession. But let us not needlessly exaggerate the shame of the Roman Pontiffs. Women of abandoned character reigned at this period in Rome. The throne which affected to exalt itself above the majesty of kings, was sunk in the filth of vice. Theodora and Marozia installed and deposed at their pleasure the pretended teach- ers of the Church of Christ, and placed on the throne of St. Peter their lovers, their sons, and their grandsons. These two well au- thenticated charges may have given rise to the tradition of the female Pope Joan. Rome was one vast scene of debauchery, wherein the most powerful families in Italy con- tended for pre-eminence. The counts of Tus- cany were generally victorious in these contests. In 1033, this family dared to place upon the pontifical throne, under the name of Benedict IXth, a young boy brought up in debauchery. This child of twelve years of age continued when Pope, in the practice of the same scan- dalous vices. 10 Another party elected in his stead Sylvester III., and Benedict, with a conscience loaded with adulteries, and hands stained with homicide, at last sold the Papacy to a Roman ecclesiastic. 11 The Emperors of Germany, roused to in- dignation by these enormities, purged Rome with the sword. In 1047, a German bishop, Leo IX., possessed himself of the pontifical throne. The Empire, using its right as suzerain, raised up the triple crown from the mire, and preserved the degraded Papacy by giving to it suitable chiefs. In 1046, Henry III. de- posed the three rival popes, and pointing with his finger, on which glittered the ring of the Roman patricians, designated the bishop to whom St. Peter's keys' should be confided. Four Popes, all Germans, and chosen by the Emperor, succeeded. Whenever the Pontiff rors were not sorry to see the Popes reforming abuses strengthening the influence of the church holding councils choosing and de- posing prelates in spite of foreign princes for in all this the Papacy, by its pretensions, did but exalt the power of the reigning Em- peror, its suzerain Lord. But such excesses were full of peril to his authority. The power thus gradually acquired might at any moment be directed against the Emperor him- self, and the reptile having gained strength, might turn against the bosom that had warmed it, and this result followed. The Papacy arose from its humiliation and soon trampled under foot the princes of the earth. To exalt the Papacy was to exalt the Church, to ag- grandize religion, to ensure to the spirit the victory over the flesh, and to God the conquest of the world. Such were its maxims ; in these, ambition found its advantage, and fanaticism its excuse. The whole of this new policy is personified in one man, HILDEBRAND. Hildebrand, who has been by turns indis- creetly exalted or unjustly traduced, is the personification of the Roman pontificate in its strength and glory. He is one of those cha- racters in history, which include in them- selves a new order of things, resembling in this respect Charlemagne, Luther, and Na- poleon, in different spheres of action. Leo IX. took notice of this monk as he was going to Cluny, and carried him with him to Rome. From that time Hildebrand was the soul of the Papacy, till he himself became Pope. He had governed the Church under different Pontiffs, before he himself reigned under the name of Gregory VII. One grand idea occupied his comprehensive mind. He desired to establish a visible theocracy, of which the Pope, as the vicar of Christ, should be the head. The recollection of the ancient universal dominion of heathen Rome, haunted his imagination and animated his zeal. He wished to restore to Papal Rome what Rome had lost under the Emperors. " What Marius and Csssar," said his flatterers, "could not effect by torrents of blood, you have accom- plished by a word." Gregory VII. was not actuated by the spirit of Christ. That spirit of truth, humility, and gentleness, was to him unknown. He could sacrifice what he knew to be the truth, whenever he judged it necessary to his policy. We may instance the case of Berengarius. But without doubt he was actuated by a spirit far above that of the generality of Pontiffs, and by a deep conviction of the justice of his cause. Enterprising, ambitious, persevering in his designs, he was at the same time skil- ful and politic in the use of the means of success. His first task was to remodel the militia of the Church. It was needful to gain strength before attacking the Imperial authority. A of Rome died, a deputation from its church j council held at Rome, removed the pastors repaired to the Imperial court, just as the en- from their families, and obliged them to de- voys of other dioceses, to solicit the nomina- vote themselves" undividedly to the hierarchy, ion of a bishop to succeed him. The Empe- The law of celibacy, devised and carried into 6 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. operation by the Popes, (who were them- selves monks,) changed the clergy into a monastic order. Gregory VII. claimed to exercise over the whole body of bishops and priests of Christendom, a power equal to that possessed by an abbot of Cluny over the order subjected to his rule. The legates of Hildebrand passed through the provinces, depriving the pastors of their lawful partners, and the Pope himself, if necessary, excited the populace against the married clergy. 12 But Gregory's great aim was to emancipate Rome from subjection to the Emperor. Never would he have dared to conceive so ambitious a design, if the discord which disturbed the minority of Henry IV., and the revolt of the German princes from that young Emperor had not favoured his project. The Pope was at this time one of the magnates of the empire. Making common cause with some of the greatest of its vassals, he strengthened him- self in the aristocratic interest, and then pro- ceeded to prohibit all ecclesiastics from receiving investiture from the Emperor, under pain of excommunication. He thus snapt asunder the ancient ties which connected tbe several pastors and their churches with the royal authority, but it was that he might bind them to the pontifical throne. He undertook to restrain by a power- ful hand, priests, princes, and people; and to make the Pope a universal monarch. It was Rome alone that every priest was to fear and in her only he was to hope. The kingdoms and principalities of the earth were to be her domain ; and kings were to tremble before the thunders of the Jupiter of New Rome. Wo to those who should resist her. Their subjects were released from their oaths of allegiance their whole country placed under interdict public worship was to cease the churches to be closed the bells mute the sacrament no longer administered and the malediction ex- tended even to the dead, to whom, at the com- mand of the proud Pontiff, the earth refused the peace and shelter of the tomb. The Pope^whose power had been from the very beginning subordinate, first to the Roman Emperors ; then to the Frankish princes ; and lastly, to the Emperors of Germany ; at once freed himself, and assumed the place of an equal, if not of a master. Yet Gregory the Vllth was in his turn humbled ; Rome was taken, and Hildebrand obliged to flee. He died at Salerno ; his last words were, Dilexi justitiam d odivi iniquitatem ; proplerea morior in exilio.* And who will dare to charge with hypocrisy words uttered at the very gates of the tomb. The successors of Gregory acted like soldiers arriving after a great victory. They threw themselves as conquerors on the unresisting Churches. Spain, delivered from the presence of Islamism, and Prussia, reclaimed from idolatry, fell into the embrace of the crowned priest. The crusades, undertaken at his * 1 have loved righteousness and hated ini- quity therefore I die in exile. instance, spread far and wide, and everywheie confirmed his authority: the pious pilgrims, who in imagination had seen saints and angels conducting their armed hosts, and who entering humbly and barefooted within the walls of Jerusalem, had burned alive the Jews in their synagogue, and shed the blood of tens of thousands of Saracens on the spots where they came to trace the footsteps of the Prince of Peace, bore with them to the East the name of the Pope, whose existence had been scarcely known there, since the period when he exchanged the supremacy of the Greeks for that of the Franks. Meanwhile that which the arms of the republic and of the empire had failed to effect, was achieved by the power of the Church. The Germans brought to the feet of a bishop the tribute their ancestors had refused to the mightiest generals; and their princes thought they received from the Popes their crown, while in reality the Popes imposed upon them a yoke. The kingdoms of Christendom, already subject to the spiritual empire of Rome, became her serfs and tributaries. Thus every thing was changed in the Church. At the beginning it was a society of breth- ren, and now an absolute monarchy is reared in the midst of them. All Christians were priests of the living God, (1 Pet. ii. 9,) with humble pastors for their guidance. But a lofty head is uplifted from the midst of these pastors; a mysterious voice utters words full of pride ; an iron hand compels all men, small and great, rich and poor, freemen and slaves, to take the mark of its power. The holy and primitive equality of souls before God is lost sight of. Christians are divided into two strangely unequal camps. On the one side a separate class of priests daring to usurp the name of the Church, and claiming to be pos- sessed of peculiar privileges in the sight of the Lord. On the other, timid flocks reduced to a blind and passive submission; a people gagged and silenced and delivered over to a proud caste. Every tribe, language, and na- tion of Christendom submitted to the dominion of this spiritual king who had received pow r er to overcome. But side by side with that principle that should have pervaded the history of Christi- anity was a principle that was given to pre- side over its doctrine. This was the great principle of Christianity; its leading idea that of grace, of pardon, and amnesty, and of the gift of eternal life. This idea supposed an alienation from God, and an inability in man to enter, by any power of his own, into communion with an infinitely holy Being. The opposition of true and false doctrine can- not assuredly be entirely summed up in the question of salvation by faith or by works. Nevertheless, it is the most striking feature in the contrast. We may go farther: Salva tion considered as derived from any power in man is the germinating principle of all errors arid perversions. The scandals produced by HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. this fundamental error brought on the Refor- mation ; and the profession of the contrary principle was the means by which it was achieved. It is therefore indispensable that this truth should be prominent in an introduc- tion to the history of that Reformation. Salvation by Grace. Such, then, was the second peculiarity which was designed espe- cially to distinguish the religion that came from God from all human systems. And what had become of this great and primordial thought 1 ? Had the Church preserved it as a precious deposit ? Let us follow its history. The inhabitants of Jerusalem, of Asia, of Greece, and of Rome, in the time of the Ro- man Emperors, had heard this gospel. YE ARE SAVED BY GRACE THROUGH FAITH IT is THE GIFT OF GOD, (Eph. ii. 8;) and at this voice of peace, at the sound of these good tidings, at this word of power, multitudes of sinners believed, and were attracted to Him who alone can give peace to the conscience ; and numerous societies of believers were formed in the midst of the degenerate communities of that age. But ere long an important error began to prevail, as to the nature of Saving Faith. Faith (according to St. Panl) is the way through which the whole being of the believer, his understanding, his heart, and his will, enters upon present possession of the salvation purchased by the incarnation and death of the Son of God. Jesus Christ is apprehended by Faith, and from that hour becomes all things to, and all things, in the believer. He com- municates to the human nature a divine life ; and the believer, renewed and set free from the power of self and of sin, feels new affec- tions, and bears new fruits. Faith, says the theologian, labouring to express these thoughts, is the subjective appropriation of the objective Work of Christ. If faith is not the appropri- ation of Salvation it is nothing the whole economy of Christian doctrine is out of place ; the fountains of the new life are sealed, and Christianity is overturned from its foundation. And this consequence did in fact ensue. By degrees this practical view of Faith was for- gotten, and ere long it was regarded, as it still is by many, as a bare act of the understand- ing, a mere submission to a commanding evidence. From this primary error a second neces- sarily resulted. When Faith was robbed of its practical character, it could no longer be maintained that Faith alone saved. Works no longer following in their places as its fruits it seemed necessary to range them on one line with it; and the Church was taught to believe that the sinner is justified by FAITH and by WORKS. In place of that Christian unity in doctrine, which comprises in a single principle Justification and Works Grace and a rule of life belief and responsibility, suc- ceeded that melancholy quality which regards religion and moral duty as things altogether unconnected; a fatal delusion which brings in death, by separating the body from the spirit, whose continued union is the necessary con- dition*of life itself. The word of the Apostle heard across the interval of ages is, "Having begun in the spirit, are ye now made perfect by the flesh." Another error contributed to unsettle the doctrine of Grace. This was Pelagianisrn. Pelagius asserted that man's nature was not fallen, that there is no such thing as here- ditary evil, and that man having received power to do good has only to will in order to perform it. 13 If the doing "good things" con- sists in certain external acts, Pelagius judged truly. But if regard is had to the motives whence these external acts proceed, or to the entire inward life of man, (see Matt. xii. 34,) then we discern in all his works selfishness forgetfulness of God, pollution and weakness. This was the doctrine of St. Augustine. He proved that to entitle any action to approval, it was needful not merely that it should seem right when looked at by itself and from the outside, but above all that its real spring in the soul should be holy. The Pelagian doc- trine rejected by St. Augustine from the church when it presented itself broadly for in- vestigation, re-appeared ere long with a side aspect as semi-Pelagian, and under forms of expression borrowed from St. Augustine's own writings. It was in vain that eminent Father opposed its progress. He died soon after. The error spread with amazing rapidity throughout Christendom passing from the West to the East, and even at this day it con- tinues to disturb and harass the Church. The danger of the doctrine appeared in this: that by placing goodness in the external act rather than in the inward affections, it led men to put a high value upon outward action, legal observances and works of penance. The more of such works the greater the reputed sanctity heaven was to be obtained by means of them and (extravagant as such a thought must appear to us) it was not long before cer- tain persons were believed to have made at- tainments in holiness beyond that which was required of them. Thus did the proud heart of man refuse to give the glory to that God to whom all glory belongs. Thus did man claim to deserve, what God had decreed to give freely ! He essayed to find in himself the salvation which the Gospel brought to him ready wrought out from heaven. He spread a veil over the saving truths of salvation which cometh from God, and not from man a salvation which God gives but barters not; and from that day all the other truths of religion were over- clouded ; darkness spread over the church, and from this deep and deplorable gloom were seen to arise innumerable errors. And in the first place we may observe that both great divisions of error converged to one effect. Pelagianisrn, while it corrupted the church's teaching, strengthened the hierarchy : by the same influence by which it hid the doctrine of grace, it exalted the authority of the Church for grace was God's part in the work as the Church was man's ! As soon as salvation was taken out of tha B 8 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. hands of God, it fell into the hands *of the Priests. The latter put themselves in the place of the Lord ; and the souls of men thirsting for pardon were no longer taught to look to heaven, but to the Church, and espe- cially to its pretended Head. The Roman Pontiff was in the place of God to the blinded minds of men. Hence all the grandeur and authority of the Popes, and hence also unut- terable abuses. Doubtless the doctrine of salvation by Faith was not entirely lost to the Church. We meet with it in some of the most celebrated Fathers, after the time of Constantine; and in the mid- dle ages. The doctrine was not formally de- nied. Councils and Popes did not hurl their bulls and decrees againsfit; but they set up beside it a something which nullified it. Sal- vation by Faith was received by many learned men, by many a humble and simple mind, but the multitude had something very different. Men had invented a complete system of for- giveness. The multitude flocked to it and joined with it, rather than with the Grace of Christ ; and thus the system of man's devising prevailed over that of God. Let us examine some of the phases of this deplorable change. In the time of Vespasian and his sons, he who had been the most intimate companion of the despised Galilean, one of the sons of Ze- bedee, had said : " If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive our sins." About 120 years later, under Cominodus, and Septimius Severus, Tertullian, an illus- trious pastor of Carthage, speaking of pardon, already held a very different language. "It is necessary (said he) to change our dress and food, we must put on sackcloth and ashes, we must renounce all comfort and adorning of the body, and falling down before the Priest, im- plore the intercession of the brethren." 14 Behold man turned aside from God, and turned back upon himself. Works of penance, thus substituted for the salvation of God, multiplied in the Church from the time of Tertullian to the 13th cen- tury. Men were enjoined to fast, to go bare- headed, to wear no linen, &c. or required to leave home and country for distant lands, or else to renounce the world and embrace a monastic life. In the llth century were added voluntary flagellations ; a little after they became an ab- solute mania in Italy, which was then in a very disturbed state. Nobles and peasants, .old and young, even children of five years old, went in pairs, through the villages, the towns, and the cities, by hundreds, thousands, and tens of thousands, without any other covering than a cloth tied round the middle, and visiting the churches in procession in the very depth of winter. Armed with scourges, they lashed themselves without pity, and the streets re- sounded with cries and groans, which drew forth tears of compassion from all who heard them. And yet long before the evil had arrived at this height, men sighed for deliverance from the tyranny of the priests. The priests them' selves were sensible that if they did not devise some remedy, their usurped power would be at an end. Then it was that they invented the system of barter known by the name of indul- gences. It is under John, surnamed the Faster, archbishop of Constantinople, that we see its first commencement. The priests said, "O penitents, you are unable to perform the pen- ances we have imposed upon you. W T ell then, we, the priests of God, and your pastors, will take upon ourselves this heavy burden. Who can better fast than we"? Who better kneel and recite psalms than ourselves?" But the labourer is worthy of his hire. " For a seven weeks fast > (said Regino, abbot of Prum,) such as are rich shall pay twenty pence, those who are less wealthy ten pence, and the poor three pence, in the same proportion for other things." 15 Some courageous voices were raised against this traffic, but in vain. The Pope soon discovered what advantages he might derive from these indulgences. His want of money continued to increase. Here was an easy resource, which, under the appear- ance of a voluntary contribution, would re- plenish his coffers. It seemed desirable to establish so lucrative a discovery on a solid footing. The chief men of Rome exerted them- selves for this purpose. The irrefragable doc- tor, Alexander de Hales, invented, in the 13th century, a doctrine well suited to secure this mighty resource to the Papacy, A bull of Clement VII. declared the new doctrine an article of the faith. The most sacred truths were made to subserve this persevering policy of Rome. Christ, it was affirmed, has done much more than was required for reconciling God and man. One single drop of his blood would have sufficed for that ; but he shed his blood abundantly, that he might form for his church a treasury that eternity itself should never exhaust. The supererogatory merits of the saints, the reward of the works they have done, beyond and additional to the obligations of duty, have still further enriched this treasu- ry. Its guardianship and distribution are con- fided to the Vicar of Christ upon earth. He applies to every sinner, for sins committed after baptism, these merits of Christ and of his saints, in the measure and degree that his sins have made necessary. Who would dare to attack a custom of so high and holy an origin. Rapidly was this almost inconceivable in- vention reduced to a system. The scale im- posed ten, twenty years of penance, for such and such kinds of sin. " It is not merely for each kind of sin, but for each sinful action, that this penance of so many years is demanded," exclaimed the mercenary priests. Behold mankind, bowed down under the weight of a penance that seemed almost eternal. " But for what purpose this long penance, when life is so short when can it take effect 1 ? How can man secure the time requisite for its performance? You are imposing on him cen- turies of severe discipline. When death comes he will but laugh at you for death will dis- charge him from his burden. Ah, welcome HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 9 death!" But this objection was provided against. The philosophers of Alexandria had spoken of a fire in which men were to be pu- rified. Some ancient doctors in the church had received the notion. Rome declared this phi- losophic tenet the doctrine of the church ; and the Pope, by a bull, added purgatory to his domain. He declared that man would have to expiate in purgatory all he could not ex- piate on earth; but that indulgences would deliver men's souls from that intermediate state in which their sins would otherwise hold them. Thomas Aquinas set forth this new doctrine in his celebrated Summa. Nothing was left undone to fill the mind with terror. Man is by nature inclined to fear an unknown futurity and the dark abodes beyond the grave ; but that fear was artfully excited and increased by JiO'vible descriptions of the torments of this purifying fire. We see at this day in many Catholic countries paintings exposed in the temples, or in the crossways, wherein poor souls engulphed in flames invoke alleviation for their miseries. Who could refuse the money that, dropt into the treasury of Rome, redeemed the soul from such horrible torments ? But a further means of increasing this traffic was now discovered. Hitherto it had been the sins of the living that had been turned to profit ; they now began to avail themselves of the sins of the dead. In the 13th century it was declared that the living might, by making certain sacrifices, shorten or even terminate the torments their ancestors and friends were en- during in purgatory. Instantly the compas- sionate hearts of the faithful offered new trea- sures for the priests. To regulate this traffic, they invented short- ly after, probably in the Pontificate of John XXII. the celebrated and scandalous tax of indulgences, of which more than forty editions are extant : a mind of the least delicacy would be shocked at the repetition of the horrors there- in contained. Incest was to cost, if not de- tected, five groschen, if known, or flagrant, six. A certain price was affixed to the crime of mur- der, another to infanticide, adultery, perjury, burglary, &c. Oh, shame to Rome ! exclaims Claudius of Espersa, a Roman divine ; and we may add, Oh, shame to human nature! For no reproach can attach to Rome which does not recoil with equal force on mankind in general. Rome is human nature exalted, and displaying some of its worst propensities. We say this in truth as well as in justice. Boniface VIII., the boldest and most ambi- tious of the Popes, after Gregory VII., effected still more than his predecessors had done. He published a bull in 1300, by which he declared to the church that all who should at that time or thenceforth make the pilgrimage to Rome, which should take place every hun- dred years, should there receive a plenary in- dulgence. Upon this multitudes flocked from Italy, Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, France, Spain, Germany, Hungary, and other quarters. Old men, of sixty and seventy, set out on the pil- grimage; and it was computed that 200,000 visited Rome in one month. All these foreign- ers brought with them rich offerings, and the Pope and the Romans saw their coffers re- plenished. The avarice of the Pontiffs soon fixed this jubilee at intervals of fifty years, afterwards at thirty-three years, and at last at twenty-five. Then, for the greater convenience of the pur- chasers, and to increase the profits of the venders, they transferred both the jubilee and its indulgences from Rome to the market- places of all the nations of Christendom. It was no longer necessary to abandon one's home ; what others had been obliged to seek beyond the Alps, each might now obtain at his own door. The evil was at its height, and then the Reformer arose. We have seen what had become of the principle which was designed to govern the history of Christianity ; we have also seen what became of that which should have per- vaded its doctrine. Both were now lost. To set up a single caste as mediators be- tween God and man, and to barter in exchange for works and penances, and gold, the salva- tion freely given by God ; such was Popery.. To open wide to all, through Jesus Christ, and without any earthly mediator, and with- out that power that called itself the Church, free access to the gift of God, eternal life , - such was Christianity, and such was the Re- formation. Popery may be compared to a high wall erected by the labour of ages, between man and God. Whoever will scale it must pay or suf- fer in the attempt ; and even then he will fail to overleap it. The Reformation is the power which has thrown down this wall, has restored Christ to man, and has thus made plain the way of ac- cess to the Creator. Popery interposes the Church between God and man. Christianity and the Reformation bring God and man faoe to face. Popery separates man from God : -the Gos- pel re-unites them. After having thus traced the history of the decline and loss of the two gran' 1 principles which were to distinguish the religion of God from systems of man's devising, let us see what were the consequences of this immense change. But first let us do honour to the church of that middle period, which intervened between the age of the Apostles and the Reformers. The church was still the church, although fallen and more and more enslaved. In a word, she was at all times the most powerful friend of man. Her hands, though manacled, still dis- pensed blessings. Many eminent servants of Christ diffused during these ages a benefi- cent light ; and in the humble convent the sequestered parish there were found poor monks and poor priests to alleviate bitter suf- ferings. The church Catholic was not the Pa- pacy. This filled the place of the oppressor ; 10 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. that of the oppressed. The Reformation which declared war against the one, came to liberate the other. And it must be acknow- ledged, that the Papacy itself was at times, in the hands of Him who brings good out of evil, a necessary counterpoise to the ambition and tyranny of princes. Let us now contemplate the condition of Christianity at that time. Theology and religion were then widely different. The doctrine of the learned, and the practice of priests, monks, and people, presented two very different aspects. They had, however, great influence upon each other, and the Reformation had to deal with both. Let us examine them, and take a survey first of the Schools, or Theology. Theology was still under the influence of the middle ages. The middle ages had awoke from their long trance, and had produced many learned men. But their learning had been directed neither to the interpretation of the Holy Scriptures, nor to the examination of the history of the Church. Scriptural ex- position, and the study of history, the two great sources of theological knowledge, still slumbered. A new science had usurped their place. It was the science of Dialectics. The art of rea- soning became the fruitful mine of a new theology. The middle ages had discovered the long lost writings of Aristotle. Their knowledge of him was derived either from old Latin versions, or from translations from the Arabic. The resuscitated Aristotle appeared in the West as a giant, subjecting the minds, and even the consciences of men. His philo- sophic method added strength to the disposi- tion for dialectics which marked the age. It was a method well suited to subtle researches and trivial distinctions. The very obscurity of the translations of the Greek philosopher favoured the dialectic subtlety which had capti- vated the West. The Church, alarmed at its progress, fora while opposed this new tenden- cy. She feared that this taste for discussion might engender heresies. But the dialectic philosophy proved to be easily compounded with ; monks employed it against heretics, and thenceforward its victory was secure. It was the characteristic of this method of teaching, to suggest numerous questions on every branch of theology, and then to decide them by a solution. Often these inquiries turned upon most useless matters. It was asked whether all animals had been enclosed in Noah's ark; and whether a dead man could say mass, &c. 18 But we should be wrong to form our judgment of the scholastic divines from such examples only. On the contrary, we must often acknowledge the depth and extent of their inquiries. Some among them made a distinction be- tween theological and philosophical truth, affirming that a proposition might be theologi- cally true, and philosophically false. In this way it was hoped to reconcile incredulity with a cold and dead adherence to the forms of the Church. But there were others, and Thomas Aquinas at their head, who maintained that the doctrine of revelation was in no respect at variance with an enlightened reason ; and that even as Christian charity does not annihilate the natural affections, but chastens, sanctifies, ennobles, and governs them, so Faith does not destroy Philosophy, but may make use of it by sanctifying and illuminating it with its own light. The doctrine of the Trinity, opened a wide field for the dialectic method of the theolo- gians. By dint of distinctions and disputes, they fell into contrary errors. Some distin- guished the three Persons so as to make of them three Gods. This was the error of Ro- celin of Compeigne and his followers. Others confounded the Persons so as to leave only an ideal distinction. This was the case with Gilbert of Poictiers and his adherents. But the orthodox doctrine was ably maintained by others. The dialectic subtlety of the times was not less directed to the article of the Divine Will. How are we to reconcile the will of God with his almighty power and holiness 1 The scho- lastic divines found in this question numerous difficulties, and laboured to remove them by dialectic distinctions. "We cannot say that God wills the existence of mV," said Peter the Lombard, " but neither can we say that He wills that evil should not exist." The majority of these theologians sought to weaken by their dialectic labours the doc- trine of Predestination which they found in the church. Alexander de Hales availed him- self for this purpose of the following distinc- tion of Aristotle; that every action supposes two parties, namely, an agent, and the thing subjected to the action. Divine Predestina- tion, said he, acts doubtless for man's salva- tion ; but it is requisite that it find in the soul of man a capacity for the reception of this grace. Without this second party the first cannot effect any thing; and Predestination consists in this, that God knowing by his pre- science those in whom this second requisite will be found, has appointed to give them his grace. As to the original condition of man, these theologians distinguished natural gifts and free gifts. The first they held to consist in the primitive purity and strength of the human soul. The second were the gifts of God's grace that the soul might accomplish good works. But here again the learned were di- vided ; some contended that man had original- ly possessed only natural gifts, and had by his use of them to merit those of grace. But Thomas Aquinas who was generally on the side of sound doctrine, affirmed that the gifts of grace had from the beginning been closely united with the gifts of nature, because the first man was perfect in his moral health. The Fall, said the former, who leaned to- wards Free-will, has deprived man of the gifts of grace, but it has not entirely stripped him of the primitive strength of his nature ; for the least sanctification would have been impossible if there had been no longer with HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 11 him any moral strength. Whilst, on the other side, the stricter theologians thought that the Fall had not only deprived man of grace, but corrupted his nature. All acknowledged the work of Reconcilia- tion wrought out by Christ's sufferings and death. But some maintained that redemption could have been effected in no other way than by the expiatory satisfaction of the death of Jesus Christ, whilst others laboured to prove that God had simply attached redemption and grace to this price. Others again, and among these last we may particularize Abelard,made the saving efficacy of redemption to consist merely in its fitness to awaken in man's heart a confidence and love toward God. The doctrines of Sanctification or of Grace discovers to us in fresh abundance the dialectic subtlety of these divines. All of them, ac- cepting the distinction of Aristotle already mentioned, laid down the necessity of the ex- istence in man of a materia disposita, a some- thing disposed to the reception of grace. But Thomas Aquinas ascribes this disposition to grace itself. Grace, said they, was formative for man before the Fall ; now, that there is in him something to extirpate, it is grace re- formative. And a farther distinction was laid down between grace given gratuitously, gra- tia gratis data, and grace that makes accept- able, gratia gratum faciens ; with many other similar distinctions. The doctrine of penance and indulgence, which we have already exhibited, crowned the whole of this system, and ruined whatever good it might contain. Peter the Lombard had been the first to distinguish three sorts of penitence; that of the heart or compunction; that of the lips, or confession; that of works, or satisfaction by outward action. He distin- guished, indeed, absolution in the sight of God from absolution before the church. He even affirmed that inward repentance sufficed to obtain the pardon of sins. But he found a way back into the error of the church through another channel. He allowed that for sins committed after baptism, it was necessary either to endure the fires of purgatory, or to submit to the ecclesiastic penance ; excepting only the sinner whose inward repentance and remorse should be so great as to obviate the necessity of further sufferings. He proceeds to propose questions which, with all his skill in dialectics, he is embarrassed to resolve. If two men, equal in their spiritual condition, but one poor and the other rich, die the same day, the one having no other succours than the ordi- nary prayers of the church, while for the other many masses can be said, and many works of charity can be done, what will be the event] The scholastic divine turns on all sides for an answer, and concludes by saying that they will have the like fate, but not by the like causes. The rich man's deliverance from purgatory will not be more perfect, but it will be earlier. We have given a few sketches of the sort of Theology which reigned in the schools at the period of the Reformation. Distinctions, ideas, sometimes just, sometimes false, but 3 still mere notions. The Christian doctrine had lost that odour of heaven, that force and prac- tical vitality which came from God, and which had characterized it as it existed in the apos- tolic age : and these were destined again to come to it from above. Meanwhile the learning of the schools was pure when compared with the actual condition of the Church. The theology of the learned might be said to flourish, if contrasted with the religion, the morals, the instructions of the priests, monks, and people. If Science stood in need of a revival, the Church was in still greater need of a Reformation. The people of Christendom, and under that designation almost all the nations of Europe might be comprised, no longer looked to a living and holy God for the free gift of eternal life. They therefore naturally had recourse to all the devices of a superstitious, fearful, and alarmed imagination. Heaven was peopled with saints and mediators, whose office it was to solicit God's mercy. All lands were filled with the works of piety, of mortification, of penance and observances, by which it was to be procured. Take the description of the state of religion at this period given by one who was for a long while a monk, and in after life a fellow-labourer with Luther, Myconius. " The sufferings and merits of Christ were looked upon (says he) as an empty tale, or as the fictions of Homer. There was no lon- ger any thought of that faith by which we are made partakers of the Saviour's righteousness, and the inheritance of eternal life. Christ was regarded as a stern judge, prepared to condemn all who should not have recourse to the inter- cessions of saints or to the Pope's indulgences. Other intercessors were substituted in his stead ; first the Virgin Mary, like the heathen Diana ; and then the saints, whose numbers were continually augmented by the Popes. These intercessors refused their mediation unless the party was in good repute with the monastic orders which they had founded. To be so, it was necessary not only to do what God had commanded in his word, but also to perform a number of works invented by the monks and priests, and which brought them in large sums of money. Such were Ave Marias, the prayers of St. Ursula, and of St. Bridget. It was necessary to chaunt and cry day and night. There were as many different pilgrimages as there were mountains, forests, and valleys. But with money these penancea might be compounded for. The people there- fore brought to the convents and to the priests money, and every thing they possessed that was of any value, fowls, ducks, eggs, wax, straw, butter, and cheese. Then the chaunt- ings resounded, the bells rang, the odour of incense filled the sanctuary, the sacrifices were offered up, the tables groaned, the glasses cir- culated, and these pious orgies were termina- ted by masses. The bishops no longer ap- peared in the pulpits, but they consecrated priests, monks, churches, chapels, images, books, and burial places, and all these brought B2 12 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. a large revenue. Bones, arms, feet, were pre- served in boxes of silver or gold ; they gave them to the faithful to kiss during mass, and this increased their gains. " All maintained that the Pope being in the place of God (2 Thessal. ii. 4) could not err; and there were none to contradict them." 17 At the church of All Saints, at Wittemberg, was shewn a fragment of Noah's ark ; some soot from the furnace of the three children ; a piece of wood from the crib of the infant Jesus ; some hair of the beard of the great St. Chris- topher; and nineteen thousand other relics, more or less precious. At Schaifhausen was shown the breath of St. Joseph, that Nicode- mus received on his glove. In Wurtemburg, might be seen a seller of indulgences disposing of his merchandise with his head adorned with a feather plucked from the wing of the Archangel Michael. 18 But there was no need to seek so far for these precious treasures. Those who farmed the relics overran the coun- try. They bore them about in the rural dis- tricts, (as has since been done with the Holy Scriptures;) and carried them into the houses of the faithful, to spare them the cost and trouble of the pilgrimage. They were exhibit- ed with pomp in the churches. These wan- dering hawkers paid a certain sum to the pro- prietors of the relics, with a per centage on their profits. The kingdom of heaven had disappeared ; and men had opened in its place on earth, a market of abominations. At the same time, a profane spirit had in- vaded religion, and the most solemn recollec- tions of the church ; the seasons which seemed most to summon the faithful to devout reflec- tion and love, were dishonoured by buffoonery and profanations altogether heathenish. The Humours of Easter held a large place in the annals of the Church. The festival of the Resurrection claiming to be joyfully com- memorated, preachers went out of their way to put into their sermons whatever might excite the laughter of the people. One preacher imi- tated the cuckoo; another hissed like a goose; one dragged to the altar a layman dressed in a monk's cowl ; a second related the grossest \ndeeencies; a third recounted the tricks of the Apostle St. Peter, among others, how, at an inn, he cheated the host, by not paying his reckoning. 19 The lower orders of the clergy followed the example, and turned their supe- riors into ridicule. The very temples were converted into a stage, and the priests into mountebanks. If this was the state of religion, what must have been the morals of the age 1 ? Doubtless the corruption was not universal. Justice requires that this should not be for- gotten. The Reformation elicited many shin- ing instances of piety, righteousness, and strength of mind. The spontaneous power of God was the cause; but how can we doubt that by the same power the germs of this new life had been deposited long before in the bo- som of the church. If, in these our days, any one were to collect the immoralities and de- grading vices that are committed in any single country, such a mass of corruption would doubtless be enough to shock every mind. But the evil, at the period we speak of, bore a character and universality that it has not borne at any subsequent date; and above all, the abomination stood in the holy places, which it has not been permitted to do since the Re- formation. Moral conduct had declined with the life cf faith. The tidings of the gift of eternal life is the power of God to regenerate men. Once take away the salvation which is God's gift, and you take away sanctification and good works : and this was the result. The proclamation and sale of indulgences powerfully stimulated an ignorant people to immorality. It is true that, according to the Church, they could benefit those only who made and kept a promise of amendment. But what could be expected from a doctrine in- vented with a view to the profit to be gained from it? The venders of indulgences were naturally tempted to further the sale of their merchandise by presenting them to the people under the most attractive and seducing aspect ; even the better instructed did not fully com- prehend the doctrine in respect to them. All that the multitude saw in them was a permis- sion to sin ; and the sellers were in no haste to remove an impression so favourable to the sale. What disorders, what crimes, in these ages of darkness, in which impunity was acquired by money ! What might not be feared when a small contribution to the building of a church was supposed to deliver from the pun- ishments of a future world ! What hope of revival when the communication between God and man was at an end; and man, afar off from God, who is spirit and life, moved only in a circle of pitiful ceremonies and gross practices, in an atmosphere of death. The priests were the first who felt the effects of this corrupting influence. Desiring to ex- alt themselves, they had sunk themselves lower. Infatuated men ! They aimed to rob God of a ray of his glory, and to place it on their own brows ; but their attempt had failed, and they had received only a leaven of cor- ruption from the power of evil. The annals of the age swarm with scandals. In many places the people were w T ell pleased that the priest should have a woman in keeping, that their wives might be safe from his seductions. 20 What scenes of humiliation were witnessed in the house of the pastor! The wretched man supported the mother and her children, with the tithe and the offering ; 21 his conscience was troubled; he blushed in presence of his people, of his servants, and before God. The mother, fearing to come to want when the priest should die, provided against it before- hand, and robbed the house. Her character was gone: her children were a living accusa- tion of her. Treated on all sides with con- tempt, they plunged into brawls and debauch- eries. Such was the family of the priests. These horrid scenes were a kind of instruction that the people were ready enough to follow. 22 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 13 The rural districts were the scene of nu- merous excesses. The abodes of the clergy were frequently the resorts of the dissolute. Cornelius Adrian, at Bruges, 23 the Abbot. Trinkler, at Cappel 24 imitated the customs of the East, and had their harems. Priests, con- sorted with abandoned characters, frequented the taverns, played dice, and finished their orgies by quarrels and blasphemy. 25 Tne council of Schaffhausen proriibited the clergy from dancing in public except at wed- dings; from carrying two kinds of weapons; and decreed that a priest who should be found in a house of ill-fame should be stripped of his ecclesiastical habit. 26 In the archbishopric of Mentz they scaled the walls in the night, committed disturbances and disorders of all kinds in the inns and taverns, and broke open doors and locks. 27 In several places the priest paid to the bishop a regular tax for the woman with whom he lived, and for every child he had by her. A German bishop, who was pre- sent at a grand entertainment, publicly de- clared that in one year eleven thousand priests had presented themselves to him for that pur- pose. It is Erasmus who records this. 28 The higher orders of the hierarchy were equally corrupt. Dignitaries of the Church preferred the tumult of camps to the service of the altar. To be able, lance in hand, to com- pel his neighbours to do him homage, was one of the most conspicuous qualifications of a bishop. Baldwin, archbishop of Treves, Was constantly at war with his neighbours and vassals; razing- their castles, building fortresses of his own, and thinking only how to enlarge his territory. A certain bishop of Eichstadt, when dispensing justice, wore under his habit a coat of mail, and held in his hand a long sword. He used to say he did not fear five Bavarians, provided they would but at- tack him in the open field. 29 Everywhere the bishops were engaged in constant war with the towns; the citizens demanding freedom, and the bishops requiring implicit obedience. If the latter triumphed, they punished the re- volters, by sacrificing numerous victims to their vengeance ; but the flame of insurrection broke out again at the very moment when it was thought to be extinguished. And what a spectacle was presented by the Pontifical Throne in the generation imme- diately preceding the Reformation ! Rome, it must be acknowledged, has seldom been witness to so much infamy. Rodrigo Borgia, after living in illicit inter- course with a Roman lady, had continued a similar connection with one of her daughters, by name Rosa Vanozza, by whom he had five children. He was living at Rome with Vanozza and other abandoned women, as cardinal, and archbishop, visiting the churches and hospitals, when the death of Innocent VIII. created a vacancy in the Pontifical chair. He succeeded in obtaining it by brib- ing each of the cardinals at a stipulated price. Four mules, laden with silver, were publicly driven into the palace of Sforza, the most in- fluential of the cardinals. Borgia became Pope under the name of Alexander VI. and rejoiced in the attainment of the pinnacle of pleasures. The very day of his coronation he created his son Caesar, a ferocious and dissolute youth, archbishop of Valencia and bishop of Pampeluna. He next proceeded to celebrate in the Vatican the nuptials of his daughter Lucrezia, by festivities, at which his mistress Julia Bella was present, and which were en- livened by farces and indecent songs. " Most of the ecclesiastics," says an historian, 30 "had their mistresses, and all the convents of the capital were houses of ill fame." Caesar Borgia espoused the cause of the Guelphs, and when by their assistance he had annihi- lated the power of the Ghibelines, he turned upon the Guelphs, arid crushed them in their turn. But he would allow none to share in the spoils of his atrocities. In the year 1497, Alexander conferred upon his eldest son the duchy of Benevento. The Duke suddenly disappeared. That night a faggot-dealer on the banks of the Tiber saw some persons throw a corpse into the river ; but he said no- thing of it, for such things were common. The Duke's body was found. His brother Csesar had been the instigator of the murder. 31 He did not stop there. His brother-in-law stood in the way of his ambition. One day Caesar caused him to be stabbed on the stair- case of the Pope's palace, and he was carried covered with blood to his own apartments. His wife and sister never left him. Dreading lest Caesar should employ poison, they were accustomed to prepare his meals with their own hands. Alexander placed guards before his door, But Caesar ridiculed these precau- tions, and on one occasion when the Pope visited him dropped the remark, "What can- not be done at dinner may be at supper." Accordingly, he one day gained admittance to the chamber of the wounded man, turned out his wife and sister, and calling Michilotto, the executioner of his horrors, and the only man in whom he placed any confidence, commanded him to strangle his victim before his eyes. Alexander had a favourite named Peroto, whose preferment offended the young Duke. Caesar rushed upon him, Peroto sought refuge under the Papal mantle, clasping the Pontiff in his arms; Caesar stabbed him, and the blood of the victim spirted in the Pontiff's face. " The Pope," adds a contemporary and witness of these atrocities, "loves the Duke his son, and lives in great fear of him." Caesar was one of the handsomest and most power- ful men of his age. Six wild bulls fell be- neath his hand in single combat. Nightly assassinations took place in the streets of Rome. Poison often destroyed those whom the dagger could not reach. Every one feared to move or breathe lest he should be the next victim. Caesar Borgia was the hero of crime. The spot on earth where all iniquity met and overflowed was the Pontiff's seat. When man has given himself over to the power of evil, the higher his pretensions before God, the lower he is seen to sink in the depths of 14 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. J*ell. The dissolute entertainments given by the Pope and his son Csesar and his daughter Lucrezia, are such as can neither be described nor thought of. The most impure groves of ancient worship saw not the like. Historians have accused Alexander and Lucrezia of in- cest, but the charge is not sufficiently esta- blished. The Pope, in order to rid himself of a wealthy Cardinal, had prepared poison in a small box of sweetmeats, which was to be placed on the table after a sumptuous feast : the Cardinal receiving a hint of the design, gained over the attendant, and the poisoned box was placed before Alexander. He ate of it and perished. The whole city came to- gether, and could hardly satiate themselves with the sight of this dead viper. 32 Such was the man who filled the pontifical throne at the commencement of the age of the Reformation. Thus the clergy had disgraced religion and themselves. Well might a powerful voice exclaim, " The ecclesiastic order is opposed to God and to his glory. The people well know it; and it is but too evident, from the many songs, proverbs, and jests on the priests, current amongst the common people, as also from the figures of monks and priests scrawled on the walls, and even on the playing cards, that every one has a feeling of disgust at the sight or name of a priest." It is Luther who thus speaks. 33 The evil had spread through all ranks; a spirit of delusion had been sent among men ; the corruption of morals corresponded to the corruption of the faith ; the mystery of iniquity weighed down the enslaved Church of Christ. Another consequence necessarily ensued from the neglect into which the fundamental doctrine of the Gospel had fallen. From the darkness of the understanding resulted the corruption of the heart. The priests having taken into their own hands the dispensing a salvation which belonged only to God, had thereby secured a sufficient hold on the respect of the people. What need had they to study sacred learning ? It was no longer their office to explain the Scriptures, but to grant letters of indulgence ; and for the fulfilling of that ministry, it was unnecessary to have acquired any great learning. In country parts, says Wimpheling, they appointed as preachers poor wretches whom they had taken from beggary, and who had been cooks, musicians, huntsmen, stable boys, and even worse. 34 The superior clergy themselves were sunk in great ignorance. A bishop of Dunfeldt congratulated himself on never having learned Greek or Hebrew. The monks asserted that all heresies arose from these languages, but especially from the Greek. " The New Tes- tament," said one of them, " is a book full of serpents and thorns. Greek," continued he, " is a modern language, but recently invented, and against which we must be upon our guard. As to Hebrew, my dear brethren, it is certain that whoever studies that immediately becomes a Jew." Heresbach, a friend of Erasmus, and a respectable writer, reports these very words. Thomas Linacer, a learned and cele- brated divine, had never read the New Tes- tament. Drawing near his end (in 1524) he called for it, but quickly threw it from him with an oath, because his eye had caught the words, " But I say unto you, Swear not at all." "Either this is not the Gospel," said he, " or we are not Christians." Even the school of theology in Paris did not scruple to declare before the Parliament, " There is an end of religion if the study of Hebrew and Greek is permitted." 35 If here and there among the clergy some learning existed, it was not in sacred litera- ture. The Ciceronians of Italy affected a great contempt for the Bible on account of its style : men who arrogated to themselves the title of Priests of Christ's Church translated the words of the Holy Ghost into the style of Virgil and of Horace, to accommodate them to the ears of men of taste. The Cardinal Bembo wrote always, instead of the Holy Spirit, " the breath of the celestial zephyr ;" for remission of sins he substituted the " pity of the Manes and of the Gods ;" and instead of Christ the Son of God, " Minerva sprung from the brows of Jupiter." Finding one day the respectable Sadoletus employed on a trans- lation of the Epistle to the Romans, "Leave these childish productions," said he, "such puerilities do not become a sensible man." 36 Behold some of the consequences of the system that then weighed down Christendom. This picture no doubt exhibits in strong co- lours both the corruption of the Church and the need of reformation. It is for that reason we have sketched it. The vital doctrines of Christianity had almost disappeared, and with them the life and light which constitute the essence of true religion. The internal strength of the Church was gone, and its lifeless and exhausted frame lay stretched over the Roman world. Who shall give it new life 1 Whence shall we look for a remedy for so many evils'? For ages a reformation in the church had been loudly called for, and all the powers o* this world had attempted it. But God alone could bring it to pass. And he began by humbling the power of man, that he might ex- hibit man's helplessness. We see human assailants, one after another, fail and break to pieces at the feet of the Colossus they under- took to cast down. First temporal princes resisted Rome. The whole power of the Hohenstaufens, heroes who wore the Imperial crown, seemed directed to humble and reform Rome, and deliver the nations, and especially Germany, from her ty- ranny. But the castle of Canossa gave proof of the weakness of the Imperial power against the usurped dominion of the Church. A war- like prince, the Emperor Henry IV., after a long and fruitless struggle against Rome, was reduced to pass three days and nights in the trenches of that Italian fortress, exposed to the winter's cold, stripped of his imperial robes, barefoot, in a scanty woollen garment, implor- HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 15 ing with tears and cries the pity of Hilde- brand, before whom he kneeled, and who, after three nights of lamentation, relaxed his papal inflexibility, and pardoned the suppliant. 37 Behold the power of the high and mighty of the earth, of kings and emperors against Rome ! To them succeeded adversaries perhaps more formidable, men of genius and learn- ing. Learning awoke in Italy, and its awaken- ing was with an energetic protest against the Papacy. Dante, the father of Italian poetry, boldly placed in his Hell the most powerful of the Popes ; he introduced St. Peter in heaven pronouncing stern and crushing censures on his unworthy successors, and drew horrible descriptions of the monks and .clergy. Pe- trarch, that eminent genius, of a mind so su- perior to all the emperors and popes of his time, boldly called for the re-establishment of the primitive order of the Church. For this purpose he invoked the efforts of the age and the power of the emperor Charles VII. Lau- rentius Valla, one of the most learned men of Italy, attacked with spirit the pretensions of the Popes, and their asserted inheritance from Constantine. A legion of poets, learned men, and philosophers, followed in their track ; the torch of learning was everywhere kindled, and threatened to reduce to ashes the Romish scaffolding that intercepted its beams. But every effort failed; Pope Leo X. enlisted among the supporters and satellites of his court, literature, poetry, sciences and arts ; and these came numbly kissing the feet of a power that in their boasted infancy they had attempted to dethrone. Behold the power of Jotters and philosophy against Rome ! At last an agency which promised more ability to reform the church came forward. This was the Church itself. At the call for Reformation, reiterated on all sides, and which had been heard for ages past, that most impos- ing of ecclesiastical conclaves, the Council of Constance, assembled. An immense num- ber of cardinals, archbishops, bishops, eighteen hundred doctors of divinity and priests ; the Emperor himself, with a retinue of a thousand persons ; the Elector of Saxony, the Elector Palatine, the Duke of Bavaria and Austria, and ambassadors from all nations, gave to this assembly an air of authority, unprecedented in the history of Christianity. Above the rest, we must mention the illustrious and immortal doctors of the University of Paris, the Aillys, the Gersons, the Clemangnis, those men of piety, learning, and courage, who by their writings and eloquence communicated to the Council an energetic and salutary direction. Every thing bowed before this assembly ; with one hand it deposed three Popes at once, while with the other it delivered John Huss to the flames. A commission was named, composed of deputies from different nations, to propose a fundamental reform. The Emperor Sigis- mund supported the proposition with the whole weight of his power. The Council were unani- mous. The cardinals all took an oath that he among them who should be elected Pope would not dissolve the assembly, nor leave Constance before the desired reformation should be accomplished. Colonna was chosen under the name of Martin V. The moment was come which was to decide the Reform of the Church; all the prelates, the Emperor, the princes, and the representatives of different na- tions, awaited the result with intense desire. ** The Council is at an cnrf," exclaimed Martin V. as soon as he had placed the tiara on his brow. Sigismund and the clergy uttered a cry of surprise, indignation, and grief; but that cry was lost upon the winds. On the 16th of May, 1418, the Pope, arrayed in the pontifical garments, mounted a mule richly caparisoned; the Emperor was on his right hand, the Elector of Brandenburg on his left, each holding the reins of his palfrey ; four counts supported over the Pope's head a mag- nificent canopy ; several princes surrounded him bearing the trappings; and a mounted train of forty thousand persons, says an histo- rian, composed of nobles, knights, and clergy of all ranks, joined in the solemn procession outside the walls of Constance. Then indeed did ROME, in the person of her pontiff sitting on a mule, inwardly deride the superstition that surrounded her; then did she give proof that to humble her a power must be exerted far different from any thing that could be put in motion by emperors, or kings, or bishops, or doctors of divinity, or all the learning of the age and of the church. How could the Reformation proceed from the very thing to be reformed \ How could the wound find in itself the elements of its curel Nevertheless the means employed to reform the Church, and which the result showed to be inefficacious, contributed to weaken the obstacles and prepared the ground for the Re- formers. The evils which then afflicted Christendom, namely, superstition, incredulity, ignorance, unprofitable speculation, and corruption of morals, evils naturally engendered in the hearts of men, were not new on the earth. They had made a great figure in the history of nations. They had invaded, especially in the East, different religious systems, which had seen their times of glory. Those enervated systems had sunk under these evils, and not one of them had ever arisen from its fall. And was Christianity now to undergo the same destiny ? Was it to be lost like those old religions of the nations'? Was the blow that had doomed them to death to be of power to destroy it 1 Was there nothing to secure its preservation! And these opposing forces which overflowed it, and which had al- ready dethroned so many various systems of worship, were they indeed to have power to seat themselves without resistance on the ruins of the Church of Jesus Christ? No: there is in Christianity that which j there was not in any of these national systems. { It does not, like them, offer certain general ! ideas, mixed with tradition and fables, des- | tined, sooner or later, to fall before the march I of human reason ; but it contains within it pure 16 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. Truth, built upon facts which challenge the scrutiny of any upright and enlightened mind Christianity has for its object not merely t< excite in man certain vague religious feelings of which the impression, once forgotten, can never be revived; its object is to satisfy, am it does in reality satisfy, all the religious wants of human nature, in whatever degree that na ture may be developed. It is not the contri vance of man, whose works pass away and art forgotten, but it is the work of God, who up> holds what he creates ; and it has the promises of its Divine Author for the pledge of its dura tion. It is impossible that human nature can ever be above the need of Christianity. And if ever man has for a time fancied that he coulc do without it, it has soon appeared to him clotned in fresh youth and vigour, as the only cure for the human soul ; and the degenerate nations have returned with new ardour to those ancient, simple, and powerful truths, which in the hour of their infatuation they despised. In fact, Christianity displayed, in the 16th century, the same regenerative power which it had exercised in the first. After the lapse of fifteen hundred years, the same truths pro- duced the same effects. In the days of the Reformation, as in the days of Peter and Paul, the Gospel, with invincible energy, over- came mighty obstacles. The efficacy of its sovereign power was displayed from north to south; amidst nations differing most widely in manners, in character, and in civilization. Then, as in the times of Stephen and of James, it kindled the fire of enthusiasm and devotion in the midst of the general deadness, and raised on all sides the spirit of martyrs. How was this revival in the Church and in the world brought to pass 1 An observant mind might then have dis- cerned two laws by which God governs the course of events. He first prepares slowly and from afar that which he designs to accomplish. He has ages in which to work, Then, when his time is come, he effects the greatest results by the smallest means. He acts thus in nature and in providence. For the production of a gigantic tree, He deposits in the earth a tiny seed ; for the renovation of his church, He makes use of the meanest in- strument to accomplish what emperors, learn- ed men, and even the heads of that church have failed to effect ! We shall shortly have to investigate and bring to light this little seed that a divine hand placed in the earth in the days of the Reformation. We must now distinguish and recognise the different methods by which God prepared the way for the great change. We will first survey the condition of the Papacy ; and from thence we will carry our view over the different influences which God caused to concur to the accomplishment of his purposes. At the period when the Reformation was on the point of breaking forth, Rome appeared in peace and safety. One might have said that nothing could for the future disturb her tri- umph. She had gained great and decisive victories. The general councils, those upper and lower senates of Catholicism, had been subdued. The Vaudois and the Hussites had been put down. No university, (except per- haps that of Paris, which sometimes raised its voice at the instance of its kings,) doubted of the infallibility of the oracles of Rome. Every one seemed to take part with its power. The superior clergy preferred to give to a remote head the tenth of their revenues, and quietly to consume the remain- der to the hazarding of all for the acquisition of an independence which would cost dear, and bring little advantage. The humbler clergy, before whom were spread the prospects and baits of higher dignities, were willing to purchase these cherished hopes by a little slavery. Add to which, they were every- where so overawed by the heads of the hie- rarchy, that they could scarcely move under their powerful hands, and much less raise themselves and make head against them. The people bowed the knee before the Roman altar, and even kings, who began in secret to despise the Bishop of Rome, could not have dared to raise the hand against it, lest they should be reputed guilty of sacrilege. But if at the time when the Reformation broke out, opposition seemed outwardly to have subsided, or even ceased altogether, its internal strength had increased. If we take a nearer view, we discern more than one symp- tom which presaged the decline of Rome. The general councils, had, in their fall, diffused their principles through the Church, and car- ried disunion into the camp of those who im- pugned them. The defenders of the hierarchy had separated into two parties; those who maintained the system of the absolute power of the Pope, according to the maxims of Hilde- brand ; and those who desired a constitutional Papacy, offering securities and liberty to the churches. To this we may add, that in all parties faith n the infallibility of the Roman bishop had seen rudely shaken. If no voice was raised to attack him, it was because every one was anxious to retain the little faith he still pos- sessed. The slightest shock was dreaded, est it should overturn the edifice. The Christianity of the age held in its breath ; but t was to avoid a calamity in which it feared ;o perish. From the moment when man ;rembles to quit a once venerated creed, he no longer holds it, and he will soon abandon ts very semblance. Let us see what had brought about this singular posture of mind. The church itself was the primary cause. The errors and super- thions she had introduced into Christianity, were not, properly speaking, what had so fatal- y wounded her. This might indeed be thought f the nations of Christendom had risen above he Church in intellectual and religious de- elopement. But there was an aspect of the uestion level to the observation of the laity, HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 17 and it was under that view that the Church was judged : it was become altogether earth- ly. That priestly sway which governed the world, and which could not subsist but by the power of illusion, and of that halo which in- vested it, had forgotten its true nature, and Jeft Heaven and its sphere of light and glory, to immerse itself in the low interests of citi- zens and princes. Born to the representation of the spirit, the priesthood had forsaken the spirit for the flesh. They had thrown aside the treasures of learning and the spiritual pow- er of the word, and taken up the brute force and false glory of the age: and this had naturally resulted. It was truly the spiritual order that the Church had at first attempted to defend. But to protect it against the re- sistance and invasion of the nations, she had from false policy had recourse to earthly in- struments and vulgar weapons. When once the Church had begun to handle these wea- pons, her spiritual essence was lost. Her arm could not become carnal without her heart becoming the same ; and the world soon saw her former character inverted. She had attempted to use earth in defence of Heaven : she now employed Heaven itself to defend earthly possessions. Theocratic forms be- came, in her hands, only instruments of world- ly schemes. The offerings which the people laid at the feet of the sovereign pontiff of Christendom, were used to support the luxury of his court, and the charge of his armies. His spiritual power supplied the steps by which he placed his feet above the kings and nations of the earth. The charm was dis- pelled ; and the power of the Church was gone, from, the hour that men could say, " she is become as one of us." The great were the first to scrutinize the title to this supposed power. 38 The very ques- tioning of it might possibly have sufficed to overturn Rome. But it was a favorable cir- cumstance on her side, that the education of the princes was everywhere in the hands of her adepts. These persons inculcated in their noble pupils a veneration for the Roman pon- tiffs. The chiefs of nations grew up in the sanctuary of the C hurch . Princes of ordinary minds scarce ever got beyond it. Many even desired nothing better than to be found with- in it at the close of life. They chose to die wearing a monk's cowl rather than a crown. Italy was mainly instrumental in enlighten- ing the sovereigns of Europe. They had to contract alliances with the Popes, which had reference to the temporal Prince of the States of the Church, and not to the Bishop of bish- ops. Kings were much astonished to find the Popes ready to sacrifice some of the assert- ed rights of the Pontiff, that they might retain the advantages of the Prince. They saw these eelt-styled organs of truth resort to all the petty artifices of policy, deceit, dissimulation, and even perjury. 39 Then it was that the bandage that education had drawn over the eyes of secular princes fell off. It was then that the artful Ferdinand of Arragon had re- course to stratagem against stratagem ; it was then that the impetuous Louis XII. struck a medal with this legend, Perdarn Babylonis nomen.-* and the respectable Maximilian of Austria, grieved at hearing of the treachery of Leo X., exclaimed, " This Pope, like the rest, is in my judgment a scoundrel. Henceforth I can say that in all my life no Pope has kept his faith or word with me. I hope, if God be willino-, that this one will be the last of them." 40 Discoveries of this sort made by kings gradually took effect upon the people. Many other causes had unclosed the long sealed eyes of Christian nations. The most reflecting be- gan to accustom themselves to the idea that the Bishop of Rome was a man, and some- times even a very bad man. The people be- gan to suspect that he was not much holier than their own bishops, whose characters were very doubtful. But the popes them- selves contributed more than any single cause to their own dishonour. Released from con- straint after the Council of Basle, they gave themselves up to the boundless licentiousness of victory. Even the dissolute Romans shud- dered. The rumours of these disorders spread through other countries. The people, incapa- ble of arresting the torrent that swept their treasure into this gulf of profligacy, sought amends in hatred. 41 Whilst many circumstances contributed to sap what then existed, there were others lend- ing to the production of something new. The singular system of theology that had established itself in the Church, was fitted powerfully to assist in opening the eyes of the rising generation. Formed for a dark age, as if the darkness were to endure forever, this system was destined to be superseded and scat- tered to the winds as soon as the age should outgrow it. And this took place. The Popes had added now this, and now that article to the Christian doctrine. They had changed or removed only what could not be made to square with their hierarchy ; what was not opposed to their policy was allowed to remain during pleasure. There were in this system true doctrines, such as redemption, the power of the Spirit of God, &c., which an able theolo- gian, if one had been found, could have used to combat and overturn the rest. The pure gold mixed with the baser metal in the mint of the Vatican, was enough to reveal the fraud. It is true that if any courageous opponent took notice of it, the winnowing fan of Rome was immediately set to work to cast the pure grain forth. But these rejections and condemna- tions did but augment the confusion. That confusion was without bounds, and the asserted unity was but one vast disorder. At Rome there were the doctrines of the Court, and the doctrines of the Church. The faith of the metropolis differed from that of the pro- vinces. Even in the provinces there was an infinite diversity of opinion. There was the creed of princes, of people, and, above all, of the religious orders. There were the opinions * I will extirpate the name of Babylon. 18 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. of this convent, of that district, of this doctor, and of that monk. Truth, that it might pass safe through the period when Rome would have crushed it with her iron sceptre, had acted like the insect that weaves with its threads the chrysalis in which it envelopes itself during the winter. And, strange to say, the means that had served in this way to preserve the truth, were the scho- lastic divines so much decried. These inge- nious artisans of thought had strung together all the current theological notions, and of these threads they had formed a net, under which it would have been difficult for more skilful per- sons than their contemporaries to recognise the truth in its first purity. We may regret, that the insect, full of life^ and so lately shining with the brightest colours, should wrap itself in its dark and seemingly inanimate covering; but that covering preserves it. It was thus with the truth. If the interested and suspi- cious policy of Rome, in the days of her power, had met with the naked truth, she would have destroyed it, or, at least, endeavoured to do so. Disguised as it was by the divines of that pe- riod, under endless subtleties and distinctions, the Popes did not recognise it, or else per- ceived that while in that state it could not trouble them. They took under their protec- tion both the artisans and their handy-work. But the spring might come, when the hidden truth might lift its head, and throw off all the threads which covered it. Having acquired fresh vigour in its seeming tomb, the world might behold it in the days of its resurrection, obtain the victory over Rome and all her er- rors. This spring arrived. At the same time that the absurd coverings of the scholastic di- vines fell, one after another, beneath the skil- ful attacks or derisions of a new generation, the truth escaped from its concealment in full youth and beauty. It was not only from the writings of the scholastic divines that powerful testimony was rendered to the truth. Christianity had every- where mingled something of its own life with the life of the people. The Church of Christ was a dilapidated building: but in digging there were in some parts discovered in its foundations the living rock on which it had been first built. Some institutions which bore date from the best ages of the Church still ex- isted, and could not fail to awaken in many minds evangelical sentiments opposed to the reigning superstition. The inspired writers, the earliest teachers of the Church, whose writings were deposited in different libraries, uttered here and there a solitary voice. It was doubtless heard in silence by many an atten- tive ear. Let us not doubt (and it is a consol- ing thought) that Christians had many breth- ren and sisters in those very monasteries where- in we are too apt to see nothing but hypocri- sy and dissoluteness. It was not only old things that prepared the revival of religion; there was also something' new which tended powerfully to favour it. ; The human mind was advancing. This fact alone would have brought on its enfranchise- i ment. The shrub as it increases in its growth throws down the walls near which it was planted, and substitutes its own shade for theirs. The high priest of Rome had made himself the guardian of the nations. His superiority of understanding had rendered this office easy ; and for a long time he kept them in a state of tutelage and forced subjection. But they were now growing and breaking bounds on all sides. This venerable guardianship, which had its origin in the principles of eternal life and of civilization, communicated by Rome to the barbarous nations, could no longer be exer- cised without resistance. A formidable ad ver- versary had taken up a position opposed to her, and sought to control her. The natural dis- position of the human mind to develope itself, to examine and to acquire knowledge, had given birth to this new power. Men's eyes were opening: they demanded a reason for every step from this long respected conductor, under whose guidance they had marched in silence, so long as their eyes were closed. The infancy of the nations of Modern Europe was passed ; a period of ripe age was arrived. To a credulous simplicity, disposed to believe every thing, had succeeded a spirit of curiosi- ty, an intelligence impatient to discover the foundations of things. They asked of each other what was the design of 'God in speaking to the world 1 and whether men had a right to set themselves up as mediators between God and their brethren] One thing alone could have saved the Church ; a'nd this was to rise still higher than the laity. To keep on a level with them was not enough. But, on the con- trary, the Church was greatly behind them. It began to decline just when they began to arise. While the laity were ascending in the scale of intelligence, the priesthood was ab- sorbed in earthly pursuits and worldly in- terests. A like phenomenon has been often seen in history. The eaglet had become full- fledged, and there was none who could reach it or prevent its taking flight. Whilst in Europe the light was thus issuing from the prisons in which it had been held captive, the East was sending new lights to the West. The standard of the Osmanlis, planted in 1453 on the walls of Constantino- ple, had driven thence the learned of that city. They had carried Grecian literature into Italy. The torch of antiquity rekindled the intellec- tual flame which had for so many ages been ex- tinguished. Printing, then recently discover- ed, multiplied the energetic protests against the corruption of the Church, and the not less powerful calls which summoned the human mind to new paths. There was at that time, as it were, a burst of light. Errors and vain ceremonies were exposed. But this light, well suited to destroy, was most unfit to build up. It was not given to Homer or Virgil to rescue the Church. The revival of letters, of science, and of the arts, was not the moving principle of the Re- formation. We may rather say that the Pa- ganism of the poets, when it re-appeared in Italy, brought with it the Paganism of the HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 19 heart. Vain superstitions were attacked ; but it was incredulity that established itself in their stead, with a smile of disdain and mockery. Ridicule of all things, even the most sacred, was the fashion, and deemed the mark of wit. Religion was regarded only as an instrument of government. " I have one fear," exclaimed Erasmus in 1516, * it is that with the study of ancient literature the ancient Paganism should re-appear." True, the world saw then, as after the mockeries of the Augustan age, and as in our own times after those of the last century, a new Platonic Philosophy, which, in its turn, at- tacked this impudent incredulity; and sought, like the philosophy of our own days, to inspire respect for Christianity, and re-animate the sentiments of religion. At Florence the Medici favoured these efforts of the Platonists. But never can philosophical religion regenerate the Church or the World. Proud despising the preaching of the cross pretending to see in the Christian dogmas only types and symbols unintelligible to the majority of minds it may evaporate in mystical enthusiasm, but must ever be powerless to reform or to save. What then would have ensued if true Christianity had not re-appeared in the world and if true faith had not replenished the heart with its strength and holiness ? The Reformation saved religion, and with it so- ciety. If the Church of Rome had had at heart the glory of God, and the happiness of nations, she would have welcomed the Refor- mation with joy. But what were these to a LeoX? In Germany, the study of ancient learning had effects the very reverse of those which attended it in Italy and France. It was * mixed with faith.' What had, in the latter, produced only a certain trivial and sterile re- finement of taste, penetrated the lives and habits of the Germans, warmed their hearts, and prepared them for a better light. The first restorers of letters in Italy and in France were remarkable for their levity; often for their immorality. The German followers, with a grave spirit, sought zealously for truth. There was formed in that country a union of free, learned, and generous individuals, among whom were some of the princes of the land, and who laboured to render science useful to religion. Some of them brought to their stu- dies the humble teachableness of children : others an enlightened and penetrating judg- ment, inclined perhaps to overstep the limits of sound and deliberate criticism; but both contributed to clear the passages of the tem- ple, hitherto obstructed by so many supersti- tions. The monkish theologians perceived the danger, and they began to clamour against the very same studies that they had tolerated in Italy and France, because they were there mix- efl v/ith levity and dissoluteness. A conspiracy was entered, into against languages and sci- ences, for in their rear they perceived the true faith. One day a monk, cautioning some one against the heresies of Erasmus, was asked " in what they consisted ?" He confessed he had not read the work he spoke of, and could but allege "that it was written in too good Latin." Still all these exterior causes would have been insufficient to prepare the renovation of the Church. Christianity had declined, because the two guiding truths of the new covenant had been lost. The first, in contradistinction to Church assumption, is the immediate relation existing between every individual soul and the Foun- tain of Truth-r-the second, (and this stood directly opposed to the idea of merit in human works,) is the doctrine of salvation by Grace. Of these two principles, immutable and im- mortal in themselves, forever true, however slighted or corrupted, which, it might then have been asked, was to be first set in mo- tion, and give the regenerative impulse to the Church 1 Was it to be the former, the prin- ciple of Church authority? Or was it to be the latter, the energy of the Spirit] In our days men pretend to operate through the social condition upon the soul ; through human na- ture in genera], upon individual character. It will be concluded that the principle of a Church was prominent in the movement: History has shown the very contrary : it has proved that it is by individual influence that an impression is produced on the community, and that the first step toward restoring the social condition is to regenerate the soul. All the efforts for amelioration witnessed in the middle ages arose out of religious feeling ; the question of authority was never mooted till men were compelled to defend against the hierarchy the newly discovered truth. It was the same in later times, in Luther's case. When the Truth that saves appears on the one side, sustained by the authority of God's word, and on the other, the Error that destroys, backed by the power of the Roman hierarchy, Christians cannot long hesitate; and in spite of the most specious sophisms and the fairest credentials, the claim to authority is soon dis- posed of. The Church had fallen because the great doctrine of Justification through faith in Christ had been lost. It was therefore necessary that this doctrine should be restored to her before she could arise. Whenever this fundamental truth should be restored, all the errors and devices which had usurped its place, the train of saints, works, penances, masses, and indul- gences would vanish. The moment the ONE Mediator and his ONE sacrifice were acknow- ledged, all other mediators, and all other sacrifices, would disappear. "This article of justification," says one* whom we may look upon as enlightened on the subject, " is that which forms the Church, nourishes it, builds it up, preserves and defends it. No one can well teach in the Church, or successfully re- sist its adversary, if he continue not in his attachment to this grand truth." "It is," adds the Reformer, referring to the earliest * Luther to Brentius. C 20 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. prophecy, " the heel that crushes the serpent' head." God, who was then preparing his work raised up, during a long course of ages, a sue cession of witnesses to this truth. But th generous men, who bore testimony to thi truth, did not clearly comprehend it, or a least did not know how to bring it distinctl} forward. Incapable of accomplishing the work, they were well suited to prepare it We may add also, that if they were not pre pared for this work, the work itself was no ready for them. The measure was not ye full the need of the true remedy was not ye felt so extensively as was necessary. Thus, instead of felling the tree at the roo by preaching chiefly and earnestly the doc- trine of salvation by grace, they confinec themselves to questions of ceremonies, to th government of the Church, to forms of wor- ships, to the adoration of saints and images or to the transubstantiation, &c. ; and thus limiting their efforts to the branches, they might succeed in pruning the tree here anc there, but they left it still standing. In order to a salutary reformation without, there mus be a real reformation within. And faith alone can effect this. Scarcely had Rome usurped power before a vigorous opposition was formed against her; and this endured throughout the middle ages Archbishop Claudius of Turin, in the ninth century, Peter of Bruys, his pupil Henry Arnold of Brescia, in the twelfth century, in France and Italy, laboured to restore the wor- ship of God in spirit and in truth ; but they sought that worship too much in the riddance from images and outward ceremony. The Mystics, who have existed in almost every age, seeking in silence, holiness, righ- teousness of life, and quiet communion with God, beheld with alarm and sorrow the wretched condition of the Church. They carefully abstained from the quarrels of the schools, and all the unprofitable discussions beneath which true piety had been well nigh buried. They laboured to turn men from the empty form of an outward worship, from noise and pomp of ceremonies, that they might lead them to the inward peace of the soul that seeks all its happiness in God. They could not do this without coming in collision with all the received opinions, and exposing the wounds of the Church; but still even they had no clear views of the doctrine of justifica- tion by faith. Far superior to the Mystics in purity of doc- trine, the Vaudois formed a long-continued chain of witnesses for the truth. Men more free than the rest of the Church appear from early times to have inhabited the summits of the Piedmontese Alps. Their numbers had increased, and their doctrine had been purified by the disciples of Valdo. From the heights of their mountains the Vaudois protested for ages against the superstitions of Rome. 42 "They contended," said they, "for their lively hope in God through Christ; for re- generation and inward renewal by faith, hope, and charity; for the merits of Christ, and the all-sufficiency of his grace and righteousness." 43 And yet this primary truth of the Justifica- tion of the sinner, which ought to rise pre- eminent above other doctrines, like Mount Blanc above the surrounding Alps, was not sufficiently prominent in their system. Pierre Vaud, or Valdo, a rich merchant of Lyons, (A. D. 1170,) sold all his goods and gave to the poor. He and his friends appear to have had for their object to re-establish in the intercourse of life the perfection of primi- tive Christianity. He began then, like others, at the branches, and not at the root. Never- theless his preaching was powerful; for he recalled the minds of his hearers to the Scrip- tures which menaced the Roman hierarchy in its foundation. In 1360, Wicklif made his appearance in England, and appealed from the Pope to the Word of God ; but the real inward wound of the Church appeared to him as only one of many symptoms of its malady. John Huss preached in Bohemia a century before Luther appeared in Saxony. He seemed to enter more deeply than all who had gone before him into the essence of Christian truth. He besought Christ to grant him grace to glory only in his cross, and in the inesti- mable humiliation of his sufferings. But he attacked rather the lives of the clergy than the errors of the Church. And yet he was, if we may be allowed the expression, the John the Baptist of the Reformation. The flames of his martyrdom kindled a fire which shed an extensive light in the midst of the general gloom, and was destined not to be speedily extinguished. John Huss did more: prophetic words re- sounded from the depths of his dungeon. He foresaw that a real reformation of the Church was at hand. When driven from Prague, and compelled to wander in the fields of Bohe- mia, where he was followed by an immense crowd eager to catch his words, he exclaimed : The wicked have begun by laying treache- rous snares for the goose.* But if even the goose, which is only a domestic fowl, a tame creature, and unable to rise high in the air, has yet broken their snares, other birds, whose flight carries them boldly towards heaven, will break them with much more power. Instead of a feeble goose, the truth will send forth eagles and keen-eyed falcons." 44 The Reform- ers fulfilled this prediction. And when the venerable priest was sum- moned, by order of Sigismund. before the Council of Constance, and cast into prison, he chapel of Bethlehem, where he had pro- claimed the Gospel and the future triumph of Christ, employed his thoughts more than his >wn defence. One night, the holy martyr bought he saw from the depths of his dungeon he pictures of Christ, which he had painted n the walls of his oratory, effaced by the -"ope and his bishops. This dream distressed lim. Next night he saw several painters * The word Huss in Bohemian signifying goose. HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. in restoring the figures in greater | many convents may have concealed similar arid more vivid colouring; and this treasures! the painters, surrounded by But these holy men only held this faith themselves, and did not know how to commti- engagect numbers work performed, an immense multitude, exclaimed: Now let the popes and bishops come when they | nicate it to others. Living in retirement, they adds Huss. "Think of your defence, rather than of your dreams," said his faithful friend, the Chevalier de Chlum, to whom he had im- parted his dream. "I am no dreamer," re- plied Huss; "but I holo 1 it certain, that the image of Christ will never be effaced. They desired to destroy it, but it will be imprinted anew on the hearts of men by much better preachers than myself. The nation that loves Christ will rejoice at this. And I, awaking from the dead, and rising as it were from the grave, shall leap for joy." 45 A century elapsed ; and the Gospel torch, rekindled by the Reformers, did in truth en- lighten many nations, who rejoiced in its beams. But it was not only amongst those whom Rome regarded as her adversaries, that a life- giving word was heard at that period. Ca- tholicism itself and we may take comfort from the thought reckons amongst its own members numerous witnesses for the truth. The primitive edifice had been consumed ; but a holy fire smouldered beneath its ashes, and from time to time bright sparks were seen to Anselm of Canterbury, in a work for the use of the dying, exhorted them "to look solely to the merits of Jesus Christ." A monk, named Arnoldi, offered up every day in his peaceful cell this fervent prayer, "Oh, Lord Jesus Christ! I believe that in thee alone I have redemption and righteous- ness." 46 A pious bishop of Bale, Christopher de Utenheim, had his name written upon a pic- ture painted on glass, which is still at B?ile, and round it this motto, which he wished to have always before him, " My hope is in the cross of Christ ; I seek grace, and not works." 47 A poor Carthusian, brother Martin, wrote this affecting confession : " Oh, most merciful God ! I know that I can only be saved, and satisfy thy righteousness, by the merit, the innocent suffering, and death of thy well- beloved Son. Holy Jesus ! my salvation is in thy hands. Thou canst not withdraw the hands of thy love from me ; for they have created, and formed, and redemeed me. Thou hast inscribed my name with a pen of iron, in rich mercy, and so as nothing can efface it, on thy side, thy hands, and thy feet ; &c. &c. After this the good Carthusian placed his confession in a wooden box, and enclosed the Jiteor tamen corde et scripto. If I cannot con- fess these things with my tongue, I at least confess them with my pen and with my heart." The word of truth was laid up in the sanc- tuary of many a pious mind, but to use an expression in the Gospel, it had not free course in the world. If men did not openly confess the doctrine of salvation, they at least did not fear, even within the pale of the Romish Church, boldly to protest against the abuses which disgraced it. Italy itself had at that time her witnesses against the priesthood. The Dominican, Sa- varonola, preached at Florence in 1498 against the insupportable vices of Rome; but the powers that then were, despatched him by the inquisition and the stake. Geil'er of Kaisersberg was for three-and- thirty years the great preacher of Germany. He attacked the clergy with energy. " When the summer leaves turn yellow," said he, " we say that the root is diseased ; and thus it is, a dissolute people proclaim a corrupted priest- hood." " If no wicked ma'frfought to say mass," said he to his bishop', " drive out all the priests from your diocese." The people, hearing this courageous minister, learned even in the sanc- tuary to see the enormities of their spiritual guides. This state of things in the Church itself deserves our notice. When the Wisdom of God shall again utter his teachings, there will everywhere be understandings and* hearts to comprehend. When the sower shall again come forth to sow, he will find ground pre- pared to receive the seed. When the word of truth shall resound, it will find echoes to repeat it. When the trumpet shall utter a war-note in the Church, many of her children will prepare themselves to the battle. We are arrived near the scene on which Luther appeared. Before we begin the his- tory of that great commotion, which caused to shoot up in all its brilliancy that >ight of truth which had been so long concealed, and which, by renovating the Church, renovated so many nations, and called others into ex- istence, creating a new Europe and a new Christianity, let us take a glance at the differ- ent nations in the midst of whom this revolu- tion in religion took place. The Empire was a confederacy of different states, with the Emperor at their head. Each of these states possessed sovereignty over its own territory. The Imperial Diet, composed box in a hole he had made in the wall of his cell. 48 of all the princes, or sovereign states, exercised The piety of brother Martin would never the legislative power for the whole of the have been known, if his box had not been Germanic body. The Emperor ratified the found, on the 21st of December, 1776, in tak- | laws, decrees, or resolutions, of this assembly, ing down an old building which had been part and it was his office to publish and execute of the Carthusian convent at B&le. How them. The seven more powerful princes, un- 22 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. der the title of Electors, had the privilege of awarding the Imperial crown. The princes and states of the Germanic Con- federacy had been anciently subjects of the Emperors, and held their lands of them. But after the accession of Rodolph of Hapsburg, (1273,^3 series of troubles had taken place, in which princes, free cities, and bishops, acquired a considerable degree of independ- ence, at the expense of the Imperial sovereign. The north of Germany, inhabited chiefly by the old Saxon race, had acquired most liberty. The Emperor, incessantly attacked by the Turks in his hereditary possessions, was dis- posed to keep on good terms with courageous chiefs and communities, whose alliance was then necessary to him. Several free cities in the north-west and south of Europe had, by commerce, manufactures, and industry, at- tained a considerable degree of prosperity, and, by that means, of independence. The powerful house of Austria, which wore the crown of the Empire, controlled the majority of the states of central Germany, overlooked their movements, and was preparing to extend its dominion, over and beyond the whole Em- pire, when the Reformation interposed a power- ful barrier to its encroachments, and saved the liberties of Europe. If, in the time of St. Paul, or of Ambrose, of Austin, of Chrysostom, or even in the days of Anselrn and Bernard, the question had been asked, what people or nation God would be likely to use to reform the church, the thought might have turned to the countries honoured by the Apostles' ministry, to Asia, to Greece, or to Rome, perhaps to Britain or to France, where men of great learning had preached ; but none would have thought of the barbarous Germans. All other countries of Christendom had, in their turn, shone in the history of the Church ; Germany alone had continued dark. Yet it was Germany that was chosen. God, who prepared during four thousand years the Advent of his Messiah, and led through different dispensations, for many ages, the people among whom he was to be born, also prepared Germany in secret and unob- served, unknown indeed even to itself, to be the cradle of a Religious Regeneration, which, in a later day, should awaken the various na- tions of Christendom. As Judea, the birthplace of our religion, lay in the centre of the ancient world, so Germa- ny was situated in the midst of Christian na- tions. She looked upon the Netherlands, England, France, Switzerland, Italy, Hunga- ry, Bohemia, Poland, Denmark, and the whole of the north. It was fit that the principle of life should develope itself in the heart of Eu- rope, that its pulses might circulate through all the arteries of the body the generous blood designed to vivify its members. The particular form of constitution that the Empire had received, by the dispensations of Providence, favoured the propagation of new ideas. If Germany had been a monarchy, strictly so called, like France or England, the arbitrary will of the sovereign might have suf- ficed to delay for a long time the progress of the Gospel. But it was a confederacy. The truth, opposed in one state, might be received with favour by another. Important centres of light, which might gradually penetrate through the darkness, and enlighten the surrounding population, might be quickly formed in dif- ferent districts of the Empire. The internal peace which Maximilian had given to the Empire was no less favourable to the Reformation. For a long while, the nu- merous members of the Germanic body had laboured to disturb each other. Nothing had been seen but confusions, quarrels, wars in- cessantly breaking out between neighbours, cities, and chiefs. Maximilian had laid a so- lid basis of public order by instituting the Im- perial chamber appointed to settle all dif- ferences between the states. The Germans, after so many confusions and anxieties, saw a new aera of safety and repose. This condition of affairs powerfully contributed to harmonize the general mind. It was now possible in the cities and peaceful valleys of Germany to seek and adopt ameliorations, which discord might have banished. We may add, that it is in the bosom of peace that the Gospel loves most to gain its blessed victories. Thus it had been the will of God, fifteen centuries before, that Augustus should present a pacified world for the blessed triumphs of Christ's religion. Nevertheless the Reformation performed a double part in the peace then beginning for the Empire. It was as much cause as effect. Germany, when Luther appeared, offered to the contemplation of an observer the sort of movement which agitates the sea after a con- tinued storm. The calm did not promise to be lasting. The first breath might again call up the tempest. We shall see more than one example of this. The Reformation, by com- municating a new impulse to the population, destroyed forever the old motives of agitation. It made an end of the system of barbarous times, and gave to Europe one entirely new. Meanwhile the religion of Jesus Christ had had its accustomed influence on Germany. The common people had rapidly advanced; numerous institutions arose in the Empire, and particularly in the free cities, well adapt- ed to develope the minds of the mass of the people. The arts flourished ; the burghers followed insecurity their peaceable labours and the duties of social life. They gradually open- ed to information, and thus acquired respect and influence. It was not magistrates bend- ing conscience to political expediency, or no- bles emulous of military glory, or a clergy seeking gain or power, and regarding religion as their peculiar property, who were to be the founders of the Reformation in Germany. It was to be the work of the bourgeoisie of the people of the whole nation. The peculiar character of the Germans was such as especially to favour a Reformation in Religion. A false civilization had not en- feebled them. The precious seeds that a fear of God deposits in a nation had not been scattered to the winds. Ancient manners still subsisted. 1 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 23 ibsisted. There was in Germany that up- rightness, fidelity, love, and toil, and perseve- rance, that religious habit of mind which we still find there, and which presages more success to the Gospel than the scornful or brutal levity of other European nations. Another circumstance may have contributed to render Germany a soil more favourable to the revival of Christianity than many other countries. God had fenced it in ; he had pre- served its strength for the day of its giving birth to his purpose. It had not fallen from the faith after a period of spiritual vigour, as had been the case with the churches of Asia, of Greece, of Italy, of France, and of Britain. The Gospel had never been offered to Germa- ny in its primitive purity; the first missiona- ries who visited the country gave to it a reli- gion already vitiated in more than one particu- lar. It was a law of the Church, a spiritual discipline, that Boniface and his successors carried to the Prisons, the Saxons, and other German nations. Faith in the " good tidings," that faith which rejoices the heart and makes it free indeed, had remained unknown to them. Instead of being slowly corrupted, the religion of the Germans had rather been purified. In- stead of declining, it had arisen. It was in- deed to be expected that more life and spiritual strength would be found among this people than among those enervated nations of Chris- tendom where deep darkness had succeeded to the light of truth, and an almost universal cor- ruption had taken place of the sanctity of the earliest times. We may make the like remark on the exte- rior relation between the Germanic body and the Churfch. The Germans had received from Rome that element of modern civilization, the faith. Instruction, legislation, all, save their courage and their weapons, had come to them from the Sacerdotal city. Strong ties had from that time attached Germany to the Papacy. The former was a spiritual conquest of the latter, and we know to what use Rome has ever turned her conquests. Other nations, which had held the faith and civilization before the Roman Pontiff existed, had continued in more inde- pendence of him. But this subjection of Germany was destined only to make the re- action more powerful at the moment of awakening. When Germany should open her eyes, she would indignantly tear away the trammels in which she had been so long kept bound. The very measure of slavery she had had to endure would make her deliver- ance and liberty more indispensable to her, and strong champions of the truth would come forth from the enclosure of control and re- striction in which her population had for ages been shut up. When we take a nearer view of the times of the Reformation, we see, in the government of Germany, still further reasons to admire the wisdom of Him, by whom kings reign and princes execute judgment. There was, at that time, something resembling what has in our own days been termed a system of see- saw. When an energetic sovereign presided over the Empire, the imperial power was strengthened ; on the other hand, when he was of feeble character, the authority of the Elec- tors gained force. Under Maximilian, the predecessor of Charles V., this alternate rise and depression of the various states was especially remark- able. At that time the balance was altogether against the Emperor. The princes had re- peatedly formed close alliances with one ano- ther. The emperors themselves had urged them to do so, in order that they might direct them at one effort against some common ene- my. But the strength that the princes ac- quired from such alliances against a passing danger, might, at an after period, be turned against the encroachments or power of the Emperor. This did indeed ensue. At no period had the electors felt themselves more independent of their head, than at the period of the Reformation. And their head having taken part against it, it is easy to see that this state of things was favourable to the propaga- tion of the Gospel. W T e may add, that Germany was weary of what the Romans contemptuously termed "/Ac patience of the Germans." The latter had, in truth, manifested much patience ever since the time of Louis of Bavaria. From that period the emperors had laid down their arms, and the ascendency of the tiara over the crown of the Caesars was acknowledged. But the battle had only changed its field. It was to be fought on lower ground. The same con- tests, of which emperors and popes had set the example, were quickly renewed in miniature, in all the towns of Germany, between bishops and magistrates. The commonalty had caught up the sword dropped by the chiefs of the empire. As early as 1329, the citizens of Frankfort on the Oder had resisted with in- trepidity their ecclesiastical superiors. Ex- communicated for their fidelity to the Mar- grave Louis, they had remained twenty-eight years without masses, baptisms, marriage, or funeral rites. And afterwards, when the monks and priests reappeared, they had open- ly ridiculed their return as a farce. Deplora- ble irreverence, doubtless ; but of which the clergy themselves were the cause. At the epoch of the Reformation, the animosity be- tween the magistrates and the ecclesiastics had increased. Every hour the privileges and temporal possessions of the clergy gave rise to collision. If the magistrates refused to give way, the bishops and priests imprudently had recourse to the extreme means at their disposal. Sometimes the Pope interfered ; and it was to give an example of the most re- volting partiality, or to endure the humiliating necessity of leaving the triumph in the hand? of the commons, obstinately resolved to main- tain their right. These continual conflicts had filled the cities with hatred and contempt of the Pope, and the bishops, and the priests. But not only among the burgomasters, councillors, and town clerks did Rome and the clergy find adversaries; they had oppo- nents both above and below the middle classes c2 24 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. of society. From the commencement of the 16th century, the Imperial Diet displayed an inflexible firmness against the papal envoys. In May, 1510, the States assembled at Augs- burg, handed to the Emperor a statement of ten leading grievances against the Pope and clergy of Rome. About the same time, there was a violent ferment among the populace. It broke out in 1512 in the Rhenish provinces ; where the peasantry, indignant at the weight of the yoke imposed by their ecclesiastical sovereigns, formed among themselves the League of the Shoes. Thus, on all sides, from above and from beneath, t was heard a low murmur, the fore- runner of the thunderbolt that was about to fall. Germany appeared ripe for the work appointed for the 16th century. Providence, in its slow course, had prepared all things; and even the passions which God condemns were to be turned by His power to the fulfil- ment of His purposes. Let us take a view of other nations. Thirteen small republics, placed with their allies in the centre of Europe, among moun- tains which compose as it were its citadel, formed a simple and brave population. Who would have thought of looking to these ob- scure valleys for the men whom God would choose to be, jointly with the children of the Germans, the liberators of the church 1 Who would have guessed that poor and unknown villages, just raised above barbarism hidden among inaccessible mountains, in the ex- tremity of lakes never named in history, would, in their connexion with Christianity, eclipse Jerusalem, Antioch, Ephesus, Corinth, and Rome? Yet so it was. Such was the will of him who causeth it to rain upon one city, and causeth it not to rain upon another city, and maketh his showers to descend on one piece of land, while another withereth under drought. (Amos iv. 7.) Circumstances of another kind seemed to surround with multiplied rocks the course of the Reformation in the bosom of the Swiss population. If, in a monarchy, it had to fear the hinderances of power; in a democracy it was exposed to the hazards of the precipita- tion of the people. True, this Reformation, which, in the states of the Empire, could but advance slowly and step by step, might have its success decided in one day in the general council of the Swiss republic. But it was necessary to guard against an imprudent haste, which, unwilling to wait a favourable moment, should abruptly introduce innovations, other- wise most useful, and so compromise the public peace, the constitution of the state, and even the future prospects of the Reformation itself. But Switzerland also had had its prepara-. ttons. It was a wild tree, but one of generous nature, which had been guarded in the depth of the valleys, that it might one day be grafted with a fruit of the highest value. Providence had diffused among this recent people, princi- Sles of courage, independence, and liberty, estined to manifest all their strength when the signal of conflict with Rome should be given. The Pope had conferred on the Swiss the title of protectors of the liberties of the Church; but it seems they had understood this honourable name in a totally different sense from the pontiff. I f their sold iers guard- ed the Pope in the neighbourhood of the Capi- tol, their citizens, in the bosom of the Alps, carefully guarded their own religious liberties against the invasion of the Pope and of the clergy. Ecclesiastics were forbidded to have recourse to any foreign jurisdiction. The " lettre des pretres" was a bold protest of Swiss liberty against the corruptions and power of the clergy, Zurich was especially distin- guished by its courageous opposition to the claims of Rome. Geneva, at the other ex- tremity of Switzerland, struggled against its bishops. Doubtless the love of political inde- pendence may have made many of its citizens forget the true liberty; but God had decreed that this love of independence should lead others to the reception of a doctrine which should truly enfranchise the nation. These two leading cities distinguished themselves among all the rest in the great struggle we have undertaken to describe. But if the Helvetic towns, open and ac- cessible to ameliorations, were likely to be drawn early within the current of the Reforma- tion, the case was very different with the mountain districts. It might have been thought that these communities, more simple and energetic than their confederates in the towns, would have embraced with ardour a doctrine of which the characteristics were simplicity and force: but He who said "At that time two men shall be in the field, the one shall be taken and the other left," saw fit to leave these mountaineers, while He took the men of the plain. Perhaps an attentive observer might have discerned some symptoms of the difference which was about to manifest itself between the people of the town and of the hills. Intelligence had not penetrated to those heights. Those Cantons, which had founded Swiss liberty, proud of the part they had played in the grand struggle for inde- pendence, were not disposed to be tamely in- structed by their younger brethren of the plain. Why, they might ask, should they change the faith in which they had expelled the Austrians, and which had consecrated by- altars all the scenes of their triumphs 1 Their priests were the only enlightened guides to whom they could apply; their worship and their festivals were occupation and diversion for their tranquil lives, and enlivened the silence of their peaceful retreats. They con- tinued close against religious innovations. Passing the Alps, we find ourselves in that ttaly, which, in the eyes of many, was the Holy Land of Christianity. Whence would Europe look for good to the Church but from Italy, and from Rome itself! The power which placed successively upon the pontifical chair so many different characters, might it not one day place thereon a pontiff who should become an instrument of blessing to the Lord's heri HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 25 ? Even if no hope was to be placed on the popes, were there not there bishops and councils which would reform the Church 1 Nothing good can come out of Nazareth ; it must proceed from Jerusalem, from Rome. Such might have been the thoughts of man, but God's thoughts were not as theirs. He says, " Let him that is filthy be filthy still ;" Rev. xxii. 11, and He left Italy to its unright- eousness. Many causes conspired to deprive this unhappy country of Gospel light. Its different states, sometimes rivals, sometimes enemies, came into violent collision as often as they were shaken by any commotion. This lana of ancient glory was by turns the prey of intestine wars and foreign invasions ; the stratagems of policy, the violence of factions, the agitation of battles, seemed to be its sole occupation, and to banish for a long time the Gospel of peace. Italy, broken to pieces, and without unity, appeared but little suited to receive one gene- ral impulse. Every frontier line was a new barrier, where truth would be stopped and challenged, if it sought to cross the Alps, or land on those smiling shores. It was true the Papacy was then planning a union of all Italy, desiring, as Pope Julius expressed it, to expel the barbarians, that is, the foreign princes ; and she hovered like a bird of prey over the mutilated and palpitating members of ancient Italy. But if she had gained her ends, we may easily believe that the Reforma- tion would not have been thereby advanced. And if the truth was destined to come to them from the north, how could the Italians so enlightened, of so refined a taste and so- cial habits, so delicate in their own eyes, con- descend to receive any thing at the hands of the barbarous Germans. Their pride, in fact, raised between the Reformation and them- selves a barrier higher than the Alps. But the very nature of their mental culture was a still greater obstacle than the presumption of their hearts. Could men, who admired the elegance of a well cadenced sonnet more than the majestic simplicity of the Scriptures, be a propitious soil for the seed of God's word 1 A false civilization is, of all conditions of a nation, that which is most repugnant to the Gospel. Finally, whatever might be the state of things to Italy Rome was always ROME. Not only did the temporal power of the Popes incline the several parties in Italy to court at any cost their alliance and favour, but, in ad- dition to this, the universal sway of Rome offered more than one inducement to the ava- rice and vanity of the Italian states. When- ever it should become a question of emanci- pation of the rest of the world from the yoke of Rome, Italy would again become Italy! Domestic quarrels would not be suffered to prevail to the advantage of a foreign system ; and attacks directed against the head of the peninsula would immediately call up the af- fections and common interests from their long sleep. * The Reformation, then, had little prospect of success in that country. Nevertheless, there were found within its confines souls pre- pared to receive the Gospel light, and Italy was not then entirely disinherited. Spain possessed what Italy did not, a se- rious and noble people, whose religious mind had resisted even the stern trial 'of the eight- eenth century, and of the Revolution, and maintained itself to our own days. In every age this people has had among its clergy men of piety and learning, and it was sufficiently re- mote from Rome to throw off without difficulty her yoke. There are few nations wherein one might more reasonably have hoped for a re- vival of that primitive Christianity, which Spain had probably received from St. Paul himself. And yet Spain did not then stand up among the nations. She was destined to be an example of that word of the Divine Wi&dom, " The first shall be last." Various circumstances conduced to this deplorable result. Spain, considering its isolated position, and remoteness from Germany, would feel but slightly the shocks of the great earthquake which shook the Empire. But more than this, she was busily occupied in seeking trea- sure very different from that which the Word of God was then offering to the nations. In her eyes the new world outshone the eternal world. A virgin soil, which seemed to be composed of gold and silver, inflamed the imagination of her people. An eager desire after riches left no room in the heart of the Spaniard for nobler thoughts. A powerful clergy, having the scaffolds and the treasures of the land to their disposal, ruled the Pen- insula. Spain willingly rendered to its priests a servile obedience, which, releasing it from spiritual pre-occupations, left it to follow its passions, and go forward in quest of riches, and discoveries of new continents. Victori- ous over the Moors, she had, at the expense of her noblest blood, thrown down the cres- cent from the towers of Granada, and many other cities, and planted in its place the cross of Jesus Christ. This great zeal for Chris- tianity, which promised so much, turned against the truth, for could Catholic Spain, that had triumphed over infidels, refuse to op- pose heretics ] How could a people who had expelled Mahomet from their noble country, allow Luther to make way in it? Their kings went further. They fitted out their fleets against the Reformation. They went forth to meet and conquer it in England and in Hol- land. But these attacks had the effect of elevating the nations assailed ; and, ere long, their power crushed the power of Spain. Thus those Catholic countries lost, owing to the Reformation, that very temporal wealth which had led them, at the first, to reject the spiritual liberty of the Gospel. Yet the Spa- nish nation was generous and brave; and many of its noble people, with equal ardour and better knowledge, than those who had rushed upon the swords of the Arabs, gave up their lives at the stake to the Inquisition. Portugal was nearly in the same condition 26 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. as Spain. Emanuel the Fortunate gave to it an " age of gold," which tended to unfit it for that self-denial which Christianity requires. The nation precipitating itself on the newly discovered routes to India and the Brazils, turned its back upon Europe and the Refor- mation. Few countries seemed likely to be better disposed than France for the reception of the evangelical doctrines. Almost all the intel- lectual and spiritual life of the middle ages was concentrated in her. It might have been said that the paths were everywhere trodden for a grand manifestation of the truth. Men of the most opposite characters, and whose influence over the people had been most powerful, had in some degree countenanced the Reformation. Saint Bernard had set the example of that heartfelt faith, that inward piety which is the most beautiful feature of its character. Abelard had introduced into the study of theology the rational principle, which, though incapable of developing the truth, is yet powerful for the destruction of error. Many heretics, so called, had revived the light of God's word in the provinces. The University of Paris had placed itself in opposition to the Church, and had not feared to combat it. In the beginning of the fifteenth century, the Clemangis and the Gersons had spoken out with undaunted courage. The Pragmatic Sanction had been a grand Act of Independence, and promised to be the palla- dium of Gallic liberty. The French nobility, numerous, jealous of their pre-eminence, and having at this period been gradually deprived of their privileges by the growing power of their kings, must have been favourably dis- posed towards a religious change which might restore to them some portion of the inde- pendence they had lost. The people, of quick feelings, intelligent, and susceptible of gene- rous emotions, were as open, or even more so, than most other nations, to the truth. It seemed as if the Reformation must be, among them, the birth which should crown the tra- vail of several centuries. But the chariot of France, which for so many generations seemed to be advancing to the same goal, suddenly turned at the moment of the Reformation, and took a contrary direction. Such was the will of Him who rules nations and their kings. The prince, then seated in the chariot, and holding the reins, and who, as a pattern of learning, seemed likely to be foremost in pro- moting the Reformation, turned his people in another direction. The augury of ages was deceived, and the impulse given to France was spent and lost in struggles against the ambition and fanaticism of her kings. The race of Valois deprived her of her rights. Perhaps if she had received the Gospel, she might have become too powerful. God had chosen a weaker people, a people that as yet was not, to be the depository of his truth. France, after having been almost reformed, found herself, in the result, Roman Catholic. The sword of her princes, cast into the scale, caused it to incline in favour of Rome. Alas ! another sword, that of the Reformers them- selves, insured the failure of the effort for Reformation. The hands that had become ac- customed to warlike weapons, ceased to be lifted up in prayer. It is by the blood of its confessors, not by that of its adversaries, that the Gospel triumphs. Blood shed by its de- fenders, extinguishes and smothers it. Francis I., in the very beginning of his reign, eagerly sacrificed the Pragmatical Sanction to the Papacy, substituting a concordat detrimental to France, and advantageous to the crown and to the Pope. Maintaining by his sword the rights of the German Protestants at war with his rival, this ** father of the sciences" plunged it up to the hilt in the hearts of his own re- formed subjects. His successors did, from motives of fanaticism, or weakness, or tc silence the clamours of a guilty conscience, what he had done for ambition. They met indeed with a powerful resistance, but it was not always such as the martyrs of the first ages had opposed to their Pagan persecutors. The strength of the Protestants was the source of their weakness ; their success drew after it their ruin. The Low Countries formed, at that period, one of the most flourishing portions of Eu- rope. Its population was industrious, better informed, owing to its numerous connections with different regions of the earth, full of courage, and passionately attached to its inde- pendence, its privileges, and its liberty. On the very borders of Germany, it would be the first to hear the report of the Reformation ; it was capable of receiving it. But all did not receive it. To the poor it was given to re- ceive the truth. The hungry were filled with good things, and the rich sent empty away. The Netherlands, which had always been more or less connected with the Empire, had forty years before fallen to the possession of Austria, and after Charles V., they devolved to the Spanish branch, and so to the ferocious Philip. The princes and governors of this ill-fated country trampled the Gospel under foot, and waded through the blood of its mar- tyrs. The country was composed of two di- visions widely dissimilar the one from the other. The south, rich, and increased in goods succumbed. How could its extensive manufactures, carried to such perfection, how could Bruges, the great mart of northern merchandise, or Antwerp, the queen of com- mercial cities, make their interests consist with a long and bloody struggle for the things of faith ? But the northern provinces, de- fended by their dykes, the sea, their marshes, and, still more, by the simple manners of the population, and their determination to suffer the loss of all, rather than of the Gospel, not only preserved their franchises, their pri- vileges and their faith, but achieved independ- ence and a glorious existence as a nation. England then gave little promise of all she has subsequently acquired. Driven from the Continent, where she had long obstinately contended for the conquest of France, she be- gan to turn her eyes towards the ocean as to HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 27 the empire which was designed to be the true end of her victories, and of which the inherit- ance was reserved for her. Twice converted to Christianity, first under the Britons, then under the Anglo-Saxons, she paid devoutly the annual tribute of St. Peter's pence. Yet was she reserved for a lofty destiny. Mis- tress of the ocean, everywhere present through all parts of the earth, she was ordained to be one day, with the people to whom she should give birth, as the hand of God to scatter the seed of life in remotest islands and on bound- less continents. Already some circumstances gave presage of her destinies. Great intel- lectual light had shone in the British Isles, and some glimmerings of it still remained. A crowd of foreigners, artists, merchants, work- men, from the Low Countries, Germany, and other regions, thronged her harbours and cities. The new religious opinions would therefore be easily and quickly introduced. Finally, England had then an eccentric king, who, endowed with some learning and con- siderable courage, was continually changing his purposes and notions, and turning from one side to another, according to the direction in which his violent passions impelled him. It was possible that one of the inconsistencies of Henry V11I. might prove favourable to the Reformation. Scotland was then torn by factions. A king five years old, a queen regent, ambitious nobles, an influential clergy, harassed this courageous nation on all sides. It was how- ever destined to hold a distinguished place amongst the nations which should receive the Reformation. The three northern kingdoms, Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, were united under one government. These rude and warlike people seemed likely to have little sympathy with the doctrine of love and peace. Yet from the very energy of their character, they were per- haps better disposed to receive the spirit of the evangelical doctrine than the southern na- tions. But these descendants of warriors and pirates brought perhaps too warlike a spirit to the support of the Protestant cause; in sub- sequent times they defended it heroically by the sword. Russia, situate at the extremity of Europe, had but little connection with other states, we may add, that she belonged to the Greek Church. The Reformation effected in the West had little or no influence upon the East. Poland seemed well prepared for a reforma- tion. The vicinity of the Bohemian and Moravian Christians had disposed it to receive thnt religious impulse which the neighbouring states of Germany were destined speedily to impart to it. As early as the year 1500, the nobility of Poland had demanded that the cup should be given to the laity, appealing to the custom of the primitive Church. Theliberty which was enjoyed in the cities, and the inde- pendence of its nobles, made this country a safe asylum for Christians who were perse- cuted in their own. The truth they brought with them was joyfully welcomed by num- 5 bers. It is the country which in our times has the fewest confessors of the Gospel. The flame of Reformation, which had long flickered in Bohemia, had almost been extin- guished in blood. Nevertheless some poor survivors, escaped from the carnage, were still living to see the day that Huss had predicted. Hungary had been distracted by intestine wars, under the rule of princes without ability or experience, who, in the result, made the country a dependency of Austria, by enrolling that powerful house among the heirs of the crown. Such was the condition of Europe at the beginning of that sixteenth century, which was destined to produce so mighty a change in the great Christian family. But we have already observed, it was on the vast platform of Germany, and more par- ticularly in Wittemberg, in the heart of the Empire, that the grand drama of the Reforma- tion was to commence. Let us contemplate the actors in the pro- logue which ushered in, or contributed to the work of which Luther was appointed to be in God's hands the hero. Of all the electors of the Empire the most powerful at that time was Frederick of Saxony, surnamed the Wise. The influence he exer- cised, joined to his wealth and generosity, raised him above his equals. 49 God selected him to serve as a tree, under shadow of which the seed of truth might put forth its first shoot without being rooted up by the tempests around it. Born at Torgua in 1463, he manifested from his early youth much love for science, philoso- phy, and piety. Succeeding, in 1487, in con- junction with his brother John, to the govern- ment of the hereditary states of his family, he received the dignity of Elector from the Em- peror Frederick III. In 1493, the pious prince undertook a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre. Henry of Schaumburg on that sacred spot con- ferred upon him the order of the Holy Sepul- chre. He returned to Saxony in the follow- ing summer. In 1502 he founded the univer- sity of Wittemberg, which was destined to be the nursery of the Reformation. When the light dawned, he did not commit himself on either side, but stood by to secure it. No man was fitter for this office ; he pos- sessed the general esteem, and was in the in- timate confidence of the Emperor. He even acted for him in his absence. His wisdom consisted not in the skilful working of deep laid policy, but in an enlightened and prescient prudence, of which the first law was never for the sake of any self-interest to infringe the rules of honour and religion. At the same time he felt in his heart the power of the word of God. One day, when the Vicar-General, Staupitz, was in his com- pany, the conversation turned on public de- claimers : "All sermons," said the Elector, "made up of mere subtleties and human tra- ditions, are marvellously cold, without nerve or power, since there is no subtlety we can advance that may not by another subtlety be HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. overturned. Holy Scripture alone is clothed with such power and majesty that shaming us out of our rules of reasoning, it compels us to cry out * Never man spake as this.' " Staupitz assenting entirely to his opinion, the Elector cordially extended his hand to him, and said, *' Promise me that you will always think thus." 50 Frederic was precisely the prince that was needed for the cradle of the Reformation. Too much weakness on the part of those friendly to the work might have allowed it to be crush- ed. Too much haste would have caused too early an explosion of the storm that from its origin gathered against it. Frederic was mo- derate but firm; he possessed that Christian grace which God has in all times required from his worshippers; he waited for God. He put in practice the wise counsel of Gamaliel "If this work be of man it will come to naught; if it be of God we cannot overthrow it." "Things are come to such a pass," said the prince to one of the most enlightened men of his time, Spengler of Nuremberg, " that men can do no more : God alone can effect anything; therefore we must leave to his power those great events which are too hard for us." We may well admire the wisdom of Provi- dence in the choice of such a prince to guard the small beginnings of its work. Maximilian I., who wore the Imperial crown from 1493 to 1519, may be reckoned among those who contributed to prepare the way of the Reformation. He afforded to the other princes the example of enthusiasm for litera- ture and science. He was less attached than any other to the Popes, and had even thoughts of seizing on the Papacy. No one can say what it might have become in his hands; but we may be allowed to imagine from this cir- cumstance, that a rival power to the Pope, such as the Reformation, would not have reckoned the Emperor of Germany among its fiercest opponents. Among even the princes of the Romish Church were found venerable men, whom sa- cred study and sincere piety had prepared for the divine work about to be wrought in the world. Christopher of Stadion, bishop of Augsburg, knew and loved the truth ; but he' would have had to sacrifice all by a coura- geous confession of it. Laurentius de Biba, bishop of Wurtzburg, a kind, pious, and wise man, and esteemed by the Emperor and princes, was accustomed to speak openly against the corruption of the Church. But he died in 1519, too early to take part in the Reforma- tion. John VI., bishop of Meissen, was used to say, "As often as I read the Bible, I find there a different religion from that which is taught to us." John Thurzo, bishop of Breslau, was called by Luther the best bishop of the age. 51 But he, too, died in 1520. William Brie, onnet, bishop of Meaux, contributed large- ly to introduce the Reformation in France. Who indeed can say to what extent the en- lightened piety of these bishops and of many others, was of use in preparing, each in his diocese, and beyond it, the great work of the Reformation ? But it was reserved to men of lower station than these princes or bishops to become the chief instruments of God's providence in the work of preparation. It was the scholars and the learned, then termed humanists, who ex ercised the greatest influence on their age. There existed at that time open war be- tween these disciples of letters and the scho- lastic divines. The latter beheld with alarm the great movements going on in the field of intelligence, and took up with the notion that immobility and ignorance would be the best safeguards of the Church. It was to save Rome that divines opposed the revival of letters ; but by so doing they in reality contributed to her ruin, and Rome herself unconsciously co- operated in it. In an unguarded moment, under the pontificate of Leo X., she forsook her old friends, and embraced her youthful ad- versaries. The Papacy formed with literature a union which seemed likely to break the old alliance with the monastic orders. The Popes did not at first perceive that what they had taken up as a toy was in reality a sword that might destroy them. Thus in the last century we beheld princes who received at their courts a tone of politics and a philosophy which, if they had experienced their full effect, would have overturned their thrones. The alliance of which we have spoken did not last long. Literature advanced, entirely regardless of that which might endanger the power of its patrons. The monks and the scholastic di- vines perceived that to forsake the Pope would be to abandon their own interests. And the Pope, notwithstanding the transient patronage which he bestowed upon the fine arts, adopted, when it suited his interest, measures most opposed to the spirit of the time. The revival of letters presented at that time an animating spectacle. Let us sketch some lines of this picture, selecting such as have the closest connexion with the revival of the true faith. In order that the truth might triumph, it was necessary that the arms that were to achieve the victory should be taken from the arsenal in which for ages they had lain hidden. These weapons were the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testament. It was necessary to revive in Christendom the love and study of the sacred Greek and Hebrew texts. The man chosen by God for this work was John Reuchlin. A very sweet toned child's voice had been noticed in the choir of the church of Pforzheim. It attracted the attention of the Margrave of Baden. It proved to be that of John Reuchlin, a young boy, of pleasing manners and of a sprightly disposition, the son of an honest ci- tizen of the place. The Margrave treated him with great favour, and made choice of him in 1473 to accompany his son Frederick to the University of Paris. The son of the bailiff of Pforzheim in trans- ports of joy arrived in company with the prince at this most celebrated school of the West. He there found the Spartan Hermo- nymos, and John Weissel, surnamed the Light HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 29 of the World, and he had now an opportunity of studying, under the most able masters, the Greek and Hebrew, of which there was at that time no professor in Germany, and which he himself was destined one day to restore in the land of the Reformation. The young and indigent German transcribed for rich students the verses of Homer, and the orations of Isocrates, and thus earned the means of prose- < uting his studies, and purchasing books. But he heard other things from Weissel which made a powerful impression on his mind. "The Popes may be deceived," said Weissel. " All satisfaction made by men is blasphemy against Christ, who has com- pletely reconciled and justified mankind. To God alone belongs the power of giving com- plete absolution. It is not necessary to con- fess our sins to the priests. There is no purgatory, unless it be God himself, who is a consuming fire, and purifies from all pollu- tion." When Reuchlin was hardly twenty, he taught philosophy and Greek and Latin at Bale, and it was then accounted almost a miracle that a German should speak Greek. The partisans of Rome began to be uneasy when they saw men of independent character searching into these ancient treasures. " The Romans make a wry face," said Reuchlin, " and clamorously assert that all such literary labours are contrary to Roman piety, since the Greeks are schismatics. Oh ! what pains and patience are needed to restore wisdom and learning to Germany !" Soon after, Eberhard of Wiirtemberg in- vited Reuchlin to Tubingen, to adorn that rising university; and in 1487 he took him into Italy. Chalco-ndylas, Aurispa, John Picus of Mirandola, were his friends and companions at Florence. And at Rome, when Eberhard had a solemn audience of the Pope, surrounded by his cardinals, Reuchlin pro- nounced an address in such pure and elegant Latin, that the assembly, who expected no- thing of that kind from a barbarous German, were in the utmost astonishment, and the Pope exclaimed, " Certainly this man de- serves to be ranked with the best orators of France and Italy." Ten years after, Reuchlin was obliged to take refuge at Heidelberg, at the court of the Elector Philip, to escape the vengeance of the successor of Eberhard. Philip, in conjunc- tion with John of Dalberg, bishop of Worms, his friend and chancellor, endeavoured to dif- fuse the light that was beginning to dawn in all parts of Germany. Dalberg had formed a library, which was open to all the studious. Reuchlin made in this new field, great efforts to enlighten and civilize the people. Being sent to Rome by the Elector in 1498, on an important mission, he employed the time and money he could command, either in improving himself in the Hebrew, under the instruction of the learned Jew, Abdias Sphorna, or in purchasing whatever Hebrew and Greek manuscripts he could meet with, intending to use them as torches, to diffuse in his own country the light which was beginning to ap- pear. An illustrious Greek, Argyropylos, was ex plaining in that metropolis, to a numerous auditory, the wonderful progress his nation had formerly made in literature. The learned ambassador went with his suite to the room where the master was teaching, and on his entrance saluted him, and lamented the misery of Greece, then languishing under Turkish despotism. The astonished Greek asked the German : " Whence come you, and do you understand Greek ]" Reuchlin replied : " I am a German, and am not quite ignorant of your language." At the request of Argyro- pylos, he read and explained a passage of Thueydides, which the professor happened to have before him ; upon which Argyropylos cried out in grief and astonishment, " Alas ! alas ! Greece, cast out and fugitive, is gone to hide herself beyond the Alps." It was thus that the sons of barbarous Ger- many and those of ancient Greece met together in the palaces of Rome ; thus it was that the East and the West gave each other the right hand of fellowship in this rendezvous of the world, and that the former poured into the hands of the latter those intellectual treasures which it had carried off in its escape from the barbarism of the Turks. God, when his plans require it, brings together in an instant, by some unlocked for catastrophe, those who seemed forever removed from each other. On his return to Germany, Reuchlin was again permitted to take up his abode at Wiir- temberg. It was at this time that he entered upon tne labours that were most useful to Luther and to the Reformation. He trans- lated and expounded the Penitential Psalms, revised the Vulgate, and especially distin- guished himself, by the publication of the first Hebrew and German Grammar and Dic- tionary. Reuchlin, by this labour, took off the seals from the ancient Scriptures, and made himself a name more enduring than brass. But it was not alone by his writings, but also by his life, that Reuchlin sought to pro- mote the cause of truth. He had great influ- ence over the minds of youth, and who can estimate how much the reformation owes to him on that account? We will mention but one example. A young man, a cousin of his, the son of an artisan, famous as a manufac- turer of arms, whose name was Schwarzerd, came to lodge with his sister Elizabeth, for the purpose of studying under his direction. Reuchlin, delighted with the talents and dili- gence of his young pupil, adopted him, and spared neither advice, presents of books, ex- ample, nor any thing else that was likely to make his relation useful to the Church and to his country. He rejoiced in seeing his work prosper in his hands; and thinking his Ger- man name Schwarzerd too harsh, he trans- lated it into Greek, according to the custom of the time, and called the young student Mtlandhon. This was the illustrious friend of Luther. 30 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. Soon after, the amiable Reuchlin was in- volved, much against his inclination, in a violent contest, which was one of the preludes of the Reformation. There was at Cologne a baptised Jew, named Pfefferkorn, intimately connected with the inquisitor Hochstraten. This man and the Dominicans solicited and obtained from the Emperor Maximilian, probably with no bad motives, an order, requiring the Jews to bring all their Hebrew books (the Bible ex- cepted) to the town-hall of the city in which they resided, there to be publicly burnt. The reason alleged was, that they were full of blasphemies against Jesus. It must be con- fessed, that they were at least full of absurdi- ties, and that the Jews themselves would not have lost much by the proposed measure. However, they did not think so; and no power could rightly deprive them of works which were, in their estimation, of great value. Add to which, the Dominicans might be influenced by other motives than zeal for the Gospel. It is probable that they expected, by this means, to extort considerable ransoms from the Jews. The Emperor asked Reuchlin to give his opinion of these works. The learned doctor pointed out the books that were written against Christianity, leaving them to the fate they deserved; but he tried to save the rest : '* The best way to convert the Jews," he added, "would be to establish in each uni- versity two masters of the Hebrew language, who should teach divines to read the Bible in Hebrew, and thus refute the Jewish doctors." The Jews, in consequence of this advice, had their writings restored to them. The proselyte and the inquisitor, like ravens "who see their prey escaping, uttered cries of rage and fury. They picked out different passages from the writings of Reuchlin, per- verted the sense, declared the author a he- retic, accused him of being secretly inclined to Judaism, and threatened him with the in- quisition. Reuchlin was at first alarmed, but these men becoming more insolent, and pre- scribing to him disgraceful conditions of peace, he published, in 1513, a " Defence against his Slanderers at Cologne," in which he described the whole party in the liveliest colours. The Dominicans vowed vengeance. Hoch- straten erected, at Mayence, a tribunal against Reuchlin. The writings of this learned man were condemned to the flames. Reuchlin appealed to Pope Leo X. This Pope, who did not much like those narrow-minded and fanatical monks, referred the whole affair to the Bishop of Spires; the latter declared Reuchlin innocent, and condemned the monks to pay the expenses of the investigation. This affair was of great importance, and made much noise in Germany. It exhibited in the most revolting publicity, the very large class of monkish theologians; it drew to- gether in closer alliance all the friends of learning then called Reuchlinists, from the name of their distinguished head. This strug- gle was like an affair of advanced posts, which influenced in a considerable degree the great contest which the heroic courage of Lu- ther afterwards waged with error. This union of letters with the faith is an important feature of the Reformation, and serves to distinguish it both from the esta- blishment of Christianity, and from the revival in religion taking place in our own days. The Christians, in the Apostles' time, had against them the intellectual cultivation of the age; and, with some exceptions, it is the same at this day. But the majority of men of letters were ranged on the side of the Re- formers. Even general opinion was favour- able to them. The work gained in extension : perhaps it lost in depth ! Luther, acknowledging all that Reuchlin had done, wrote to him shortly after his vic- tory over the Dominicans: "The Lord has wrought in you, that the light of his holy word may again shine forth in Germany, where, for so many ages, it has been, alas ! not only stifled, but extinct." 52 Reuchlin was about twelve years old when one of the greatest geniuses of the age was born, A man, full of vivacity and wit, named Gerard, a native of Gouda, in the Low Countries, had formed an attachment to the daughter of a physician, named Margaret. The principles of the Gospel did not govern his life ; or, to say the least, his passion si- lenced them. His parents, and nine brothers, urged him to enter into the Church. He fled, leaving Margaret on the point of becoming a mother, and repaired to Rome. The shame- struck Margaret gave birth to a son. Gerard heard nothing of it ; and, some time after- wards, he received from his parents intelli- gence, that she he loved was no more. Over- whelmed with grief, he took priest's orders, and devoted himself to the service of God. He returned to Holland; and, lo! Margaret was still living, she would never marry an- other ; and Gerard remained faithful to his priest's vows. Their affection was concen- trated on their infant son. His mother had taken the tenderest care of him. The father, after his return, sent him to school, when he was only four years old. He was not yet thirteen, when his master, Sinthemius of De- venter, embracing him one day in great joy, exclaimed : " That child will attain the high- est summits of learning." This was Eras- mus of Rotterdam. About this time his mother died ; and shortly after his father, from grief, followed her. The young Erasmus,* alone in the world, felt the strongest aversion to the monastic life, which his tutors would have constrained him to embrace. At last, a friend persuaded him to enter himself in a convent of regular ca- nons; which might be done without taking orders. Soon after, we find him at the court of the Archbishop of Cambray ; and, a little "ater, at the university of Paris. There he * He was named Gerhard after his father. He ranslated this Dutch name into Latin, (Deside- ius,) and into Greek (Erasmus.) HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION; 31 pursued his studies in the greatest poverty, but with the most indefatigable perseverance. Whenever he could obtain any money, he employed it in the purchase of Greek authors, and then, of clothes. Often the poor Hol- lander solicited in vain the generosity of his protectors : hence, in after life, it was his greatest satisfaction to contribute to the sup- port of young and poor students. Devoted incessantly to the investigation of truth and learning, he yet shrunk from the study of theology, from a fear lest he should discover therein any error, and so be denounced as a heretic. The habits of application which he formed, at this period, continued to distinguish him through life. Even in his journeys, which were generally on horseback, he was not idle. He was accustomed to compose on the high road, or travelling across the country, and, on arriving at an inn, to note down his thoughts. It is in this way that he composed his cele- brated "Praise of Folly] during a journey from Italy to England. Erasmus very early acquired a high reputa- tion among scholars. But the monks, irritated by his " Praise of Folly," in which he had turned them to ridi- cule, vowed vengeance against him. Courted by princes, he constantly excused himself from their invitations ; preferring to gain his lively- hood with Frobenius the printer, by correcting his proofs, to a life of luxury and favour in the splendid courts of Charles V., of Henry VIII., and Francis I. ; or even to encircling his head with the cardinal's hat, which was offered to him. 54 From 1509 he taught at Oxford. In 1516 he came to Bale, and in 1521 fixed his abode there. What was his influence on the Reforma- tion? It has been too much exalted by some, and too much depreciated by others. Erasmus never was, and never could have become, a Reformer ; but he prepared the way for others. Not only did he in his time diffuse a love of learning and a spirit of inquiry and discussion, which led much farther than he himself would follow, but, in addition to this, he was able, sheltered by the protection of great prelates and powerful princes, to unveil and combat the vices of .the Church by the most pungent satires. He did more; not satisfied with attacking abuses, Erasmus laboured to recall divines from the scholastic theology to the study of the Holy Scriptures. "The highest use of the revival of philosophy," said he, " will be to discover in the Bible the pure and simple Christianity." A noble saying! and would to God that the organs of the philosophy of our days understood as well their proper duty, "lam firmly resolved," said he again, "to die in the study of the Scripture. In that is my joy and my peace." 55 " The sum of all Christian philosophy," says he in another place, "is reduced to this: to place all our nope in God, who, without our deserts, by grace, gives us all things by Jesus Christ; to know that we are redeemed by the death of his Son ; to die to the lusts of the world ; and to walk conformably to his doctrine and ex- ample ; not merely without doing wrong to any, but doing good to all; to bear with patience our trial in the hope of a future re- compense ; and finally to ascribe no honour to ourselves on the score of our virtues, but to render praise to God for all our strength and works. And it is with this that man must be imbued until it becomes to him a se cond nature." 56 But Erasmus was not content with making so open a confession of the evangelic doctrine ; his labours did more than his words. Above all, he rendered a most important service to the truth by publishing his New Testament ; the first, and for a long time, the only critical edi tion. It appeared at Bale in 1516, the year previous to the usual date of the Reformation. He accompanied it with a Latin translation, wherein he boldly corrected the Vulgate, and with notes, defending his corrections. Thus Erasmus did that for the New Testament which Reuchlin had done for the Old. Divines and learned men might thus read the word of God in the original language; and at a later period they were enabled to re- cognise the purity of the doctrine of the Re- formers. " Would to God," said Erasmus, in sending forth this work, "would to God it might bear as much fruit for Christianity as it has cost me labour and application." His wish was realized. In vain did the monks clamour against it. " He pretends to correct the Holy Ghost!" said they. The New Testament of Erasmus shed a brilliant light. This great man also diffused a taste for the word of God by his paraphrases of the Epistle to the Romans. The effect of his studies went beyond his own intentions : Reuchlin and Erasmus gave the Scriptures to the learned; Luther, to the people. Erasmus served as a stepping-stone to seve- ral others. Many who would have taken alarm at evangelical truths brought forward in all their energy and purity, suffered themselves to be drawn on by him, and became after- wards the most zealous actors in the Refor- mation. But the very causes that made him a fit in- strument to prepare this great work, disquali- fied him for accomplishing it. " Erasmus knows very well how to expose error," said Luther, " but he does not know how to teach the truth." The Gospel of Christ was not the fire that kindled and sustained his life, the centre around which his activity revolved. In him Christianity was second to learning. He was too much influenced by vanity to acquire a decided influence over his contemporaries. He carefully weighed the effect that each step might have upon his own reputation. There was nothing that he liked better to talk about than himself and his own glory. "The Pope," he wrote to an intimate friend, with a childish vanity, at the period when he declared himself the adversary of Luther, " the Pope D HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. has sent me a diploma fall of good-will and honourable testimonials. His secretary de- clares that it is an unprecedented honour, and that the Pope himself dictated it word for word." Erasmus and Luther are the representatives of two great ideas relative to a Reformation, of two great parties in their age, and in all ages. The one class are men of a timid pru- dence ; the other those of active courage and resolution. These two great bodies of men existed at this period, and they were personified in these two illustrious heads. The former thought that the cultivation of theological science would lead gradually and without violence to the Reformation of the Church. The more energetic class thought that the spread of more correct, ideas amongst the learn- ed would not put an end to the gross supersti- tions of the people, and that to reform such or such an abuse was of little importance, so long as the life of the church was not thoroughly renovated. 57 " A disadvantageous peace," said Erasmus, " is better than the most just war." He thought, -^(and how many Erasmuses have lived since that time, and are still living) he thought that a Reformation which should shake the Church would risk the overturning it ; he foresaw with terror passions excited, evil mingling every- where with the little good that might be done ; existing institutions destroyed without others being substituted in their stead, and the vessel of the Church, letting in water on every side, engulphed at last in the raging billows. "They who let in the ocean to new beds," said he, "are often deceived in the result of their toil : for the mighty element once ad- mitted, stops not where they would have it stayed, but overflows where it will, spreading devastation around." 68 But the more courageous party was not at a loss for an answer. History had sufficiently proved that a candid exhibition of the truth, and a decided war against imposture, could alone ensure the victory. If they had used caution and political artifice, the Papal court would have extinguished the light in its first glimmerings. Had not gentler means been tried for ages] Had they not seen Council after Council convoked with the intention of reforming the Church ? All had been in vain. Why again try an experiment that had so often Undoubtedly a thorough Reformation was not to be effected without violence. But when has anything great or good appeared amongst men without causing some disturbance? Would not the fear of seeing evil mingling with good, if it were allowed, put a stop to the very noblest and holiest undertakings'? We must not fear the evil that may arise from general disturbance, but we must strengthen ourselves to resist and overcome it. Is there not, moreover, a marked difference between the agitation which arises from hu- man passions, and that which is wrought by the Spirit of God 1 ? The former loosens the bonds of society, but the latter strengthens them. How erroneous was it to suppose, with Erasmus, that in the state in which Christianity then was, with that mixture of opposing elements, of truth and error, of life and death, a violent convulsion could possibly be avoided. Close if you can, the crater of Vesuvius when the contending elements are already agitating its bosom ! The middle ages had witnessed more than one violent commo- tion, with an atmosphere less stormy than that existing at the time of the Reformation. We must not at such a moment think of arresting and repressing, but rather of directing and guiding. If the Reformation had not broke forth, who can estimate the ruin that would have en- sued 1 Society a prey to a thousand destruc- tive elements, without any regenerating or preserving principles, would have been fright- fully subverted. Certainly, a Reformation such as Erasmus contemplated, and such as many moderate but timid men of our times still dream of, would have overturned Chris- tian society. The people, deprived of the light and piety which a true Reformation brought down even to the lowest ranks, aban- doned to violent passion and a restless spirit of revolt, would have burst the chain like an enraged animal roused by provocation to un- controllable fury. The Reformation was nothing less than the coming in of the Spirit of God among men, a regulating principle, placed by God upon the earth. It might, it is true, move the elements of ferment which are hidden in the human heart, but God triumphed over all. The evan- gelical doctrine, the truth of God, penetrating among the mass of the people, destroyed what was destined to be destroyed, but every- where strengthened what was to be maintain- ed. The effect of the Reformation was to build up. Only prejudice could say that it lowered. And it has been justly observed that the ploughshare might as well be accused of injuring the earth it breaks up only to pre- pare it for fruitful ness. The great maxim of Erasmus was, " Give light, and the darkness will disperse of itself." The principle is good ; Luther acted upon it. But when the enemies of the light attempted to extinguish it, or to snatch the torch from him who bore it, was it fit that, from a love of peace, they should be suffered to do so ? Was it not a duty to resist the wicked 1 Erasmus was deficient in courage. But courage is as necessary to effect a reformation as to capture a city. There was much timi- dity in his character. From his youth he trembled at the mention of death. He took the most extraordinary care of his health. He would avjDid, at any sacrifice, a place where contagion prevailed. His relish for the com- forts of life surpassed even his vanity, and this was his reason for declining more than one brilliant offer. Thus it was that he did not pretend to the part of a Reformer. " If the corrupted morals of the court of Rome require a great and speedy remedy," said he, " it is not for me, or such as me to eff HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 33 to effect it." 59 He had none of that strength of faith which animated Luther. Whilst the latter was ever ready to lay down his life for the truth, Erasmus, with perfect ingenuousness, could say, " Let others affect martyrdom : for my part, I think myself un- worthy of that honour. 60 I fear, if a tumult arose, I should be like Peter in his fall." Erasmus, by his writings and discourses, had, more than any other person, hastened the Reformation; and yet he trembled when he saw the tempest he had raised approaching. He would have given every thing to restore the former calm, even with its heavy vapours. But it was too late, the darn was broken down. It was no longer possible to stay the violence of the torrent that was at once to cleanse and fertilize the world. Erasmus was powerful, so long as he was an instrument in God's hands. When he ceased to be that he was nothing. In the result Erasmus knew not on which side to range himself. None pleased him, and he dreaded all. " It is dangerous to speak," said he, " and dangerous to be silent." In all great religious movements, there are such undecided characters, respectable in some things, but hindering the truth, and who, from a desire to displease no one, displease all. What, we may ask, would become of truth, if God were not to raise up in its defence more courageous champions ] Listen to the advice given by Erasmus to Vigilius Zuichem, afterwards president of the superior court of Brussels, as to his deport- ment towards the sectaries, (for that was the name he gave to the reformers.) "My friendship for you makes me desire that you should keep yourself quite clear of contagion of sects, and that you give them no ground to claim Zuichem as their own. If you approve their teaching, at leasi dissemble your approval; arid, above all, never dispute with them. A jurisconsult must be on his guard with these people, as a certain dying man eluded the devil. The devil asked him what he believed. The dying man, fearing that, if he confessed, he should be surprised in some heresy, answered, 'What the Church believes.' His interrogator press- ed him with the question, * What does the Church believe 1 ?' The other replied, ' What I believe] Again the devil, 'And what do you believe? and the dyino- man rejoined, 'What the Church believes.'" 61 So, the Duke George of Saxony, the mortal enemy of Luther, having received an equivocal answer to a question he had addressed to Eras- mus, exclaimed aloud, " My dear Erasmus, wash me the robe, if you can, without wetting it." Secundus Curio, in one of his works, depicts two heavens, the Papal and the Christian. He found Erasmus in neither; but perceived him incessantly wheeling in never ending eddies between both. Such was Erasmus. He wanted that 4 liberty of heart' which makes truly free. How different would he have been, if he had Slven up himself to devote his soul to truth, ut after trying to work some reforms, with the approbation of the heads of the Church, after having, for the sake of Rome, abandoned the Reformation, when he saw that the two could not walk together, he lost all his in- fluence with either. On the one side, his re- cantations could not repress the indignation of the fanatic partisans of Popery. They felt the injury he had done them, and never for- gave it. The monks poured forth abuse on him from their pulpits. They called him a second Lucian, a fox that had laid waste the vineyard of the Lord. A doctor of Constance had the portrait of Erasmus hung up in his study, that he might spit in his face as often as he pleased. And on the other hand, Erasmus, forsaking the standard of the Gospel, found himself de- prived of the affections and esteem of the noblest men of his age, and had doubtless to suffer the loss of those heavenly consolations which God sheds into the hearts of those who act as good soldiers of Christ. So at least it would seem from the bitter tears, painful vigils, disturbed rest, failure of appetite and loss of relish for literary pursuits, once his only enjoyments, wrinkled forehead, sallow complexion, and dejected and sorrowful ex- pression, that hatred of what he calls a cruel life, and desire of death which he described to his friends. 62 Poor Erasmus! The enemies of Erasmus went a little beyond the truth, when they said, on the appearance of Luther, " Erasmus laid the egg, and Luther has hatched it." 63 The same signs of new life that were seen among the princes, the bishops and the learn- ed, were visible among men of the world, nobles, knights, and warriors. The nobles of Germany played an important part in the Re- formation. Many of the most illustrious sons of Germany formed a close alliance with lite- rary men, and, inflamed with a zeal some- times indiscreet, made efforts to deliver their dependents from the yoke of Rome. Various causes would contribute to make friends to the Reformation among the nobles. Some, having frequented the Universities, had there received into their bosoms that fire with which the learned were animated. Others, educated in noble sentiments, had hearts open to the elevating doctrines of the Gospel. Many found in the Reformation a vague and chival- rous something to charm and captivate them. Others, it must be owned, were influenced by ill-will to the clergy, who had helped, unde'r the rule of Maximilian, to deprive them of their ancient independence, and reduce them to submission to their princes. Full of enthusi- asm, they deemed the Reformation the prelude of a great political renovation; they hoped to behold the Empire emerge from the crisis with a splendour altogether unprecedented, and a better and more glorious state of things estab- lished in the world, as much by the sword of chivalry as by the word of God. 64 Ulric de Hiitten, surnamed the Demosthenes of Germany from his philippics against the Papacy, forms, as it were, the link which then held united the knights and the men of letters 34 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. He was no less distinguished by his writings ' than by his military exploits. Descended j from an ancient family of Franconia, he was sent when eleven years old, to the convent of Fulda, to become in due time a monk. But TJlric, who felt no inclination for that vocation, fled from the convent in his sixteenth year, and repaired to the University of Cologne, where he devoted himself to the study of lan- guages and poetry. At a later period he led a wandering life, was present in 1513 at the siege of Padua, in the capacity of a common soldier, saw Rome and all her abominations, and there sharpened the darts which he after- wards hurled against her. On his return to Germany, Hiitten com- posed against Rome a writing entitled The Roman Trinity. He there strips bare the disorders of that court, and shows the neces- sity of putting a forcible stop to its oppres- sions. "There are three things," says a traveller named Vadiscus, introduced in this tract, " which we commonly bring away with us from Rome, a bad conscience, a vitiated stomach, and an empty purse. There are three things which Rome does not believe in : the immortality of the soul, the resurrection of the dead, and hell. There are three things which Rome trades in: the grace of Christ, the dignities of the church, and women." The last writing obliged Hiitten to quit the court of the Archbishop of Mentz, where he was residing when he composed it. When Reuchlin's affair with the Domini- cans made a noise, Hiitten took the part of the learned doctor. One of his university ac- quaintances, Crotus Robianus,and others, com- posed at that time the famous satire known by the name of " Letters of Obscure Men," which first appeared in 1516, one year before the theses of Luther. This writing was attributed especially to Hiitten, and it is very probable that he had a large share in its composition. In it the monks who were the enemies of Reuchlin, and are exhibited as the authors of these letters, discourse of the affairs of the time, and of theological subjects, in their man- ner and in barbarous Latin. They address to their correspondent Eratius, professor at Co- logne, the most idiotic and useless questions; they discover with the utmost simplicity their gross ignorance, incredulity, superstition, and low arid vulgar spirit, and at the same time their pride, and fanatical and persecuting zeal. They relate to him many of their low adven- tures and debaucheries, and many scandalous particulars of the conduct of Hochstraten, Ptefferkorn, and other heads of their party. These letters are very amusing, from their mixture of hypocrisy and stupidity : and the whole was so much to the life, that the Domi- nicans and Franciscans of England received the writing with great approbation, and thought it to be really composed in the principles and for the defence of their order. A prior of Bra- bant, in his credulous simplicity, bought a large number of copies, and sent them as pre- sents to the most distinguished of the Domi- nicans. The monks, more and more irritated, importuned Leo X. for a severe bull against all who should dare to read these letters; but that pontiff refused them. They were com- pelled to endure the general ridicule, and to suppress their anger. No work ever struck a more terrible blow at the pillars of Popery. But it was not by ridicule and satire that the Gospel was ordained to triumph. If its friends had continued their progress in these ways; if the Reformation, instead of attack- ing error with the weapons of God, had had recourse to the spirit of mockery, its cause had been lost. Luther loudly condemned these satires. One of his acquaintances hav- ing sent him one, entitled "The Burden of the Petition of Pasquin." "The absurdities you have sent me," said he, "appear to be the production of an ill-regulated mind. I have shown them to some friends, and they all formed the same opinion of them." And in reference to the same work, he wrote to another of his correspondents. "This peti- tion seems to me a freak of the same buffoon who wrote the Letters of Obscure Men. I approve his design, but not his performance; for he deals only in reproachful and insulting language." 65 This judgment may be thought severe, but it shows the spirit of Luther, and how he arose above his contemporaries. Yet it must be added that he did not always follow these wise maxims. Ulric, being obliged to renounce the protec- tion of the Archbishop of Mentz, courted the favour of Charles V., who was then at variance with the Pope. He repaired to Brussels, where Charles held his court. But, far from gaining any advantage, he learned that the Pope had re- quired the Emperor to send him bound hand and foot to Rome. The inquisitor Hochstra- ten, the persecutor of Reuchlin, was one of those charged with the office of bringing him to trial. Indignant that his enemies should have dared to make such a demand of the Emperor, Ulric quitted Brabant. Just outside Brussels he met Hochstraten on the road. The terrified inquisitor fell upon his knees and commended his soul to God and the saints. " No," said the knight ; " I will not soil rny weapon with thy blood !" He gave him some strokes with the flat of his sword, and allowed him to pass unhurt. Hiitten sought refuge in the Castle of Ebernburg, where Francis of Sickingen offered an asylum to all who were persecuted by the Ul tramontanes. It was there that his zeal, panting for the enfranchisement of his nation, dictated those remarkable letters addressed to Charles V., Frederic the elector of Saxony, Albert archbishop of Mentz, and the princes and nobility, which place him in the first rank of orators. There he composed all those writings, destined to be read and compre- hended by the common people, which spread throughout the German population a horror of Rome and a love of liberty. Devoted to the cause of the Reformer, his design was to lead | the nobles to take up arms in favour of the Gospel, and to rush sword in hand on that Rome which Luther aimed to destroy only by the word and invincible power of the truth HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 35 And yet, in the midst of all this warlike exul- tation, it is delightful to find in Hiitten kind and considerate feelings. At the death of his pa- rents, he gave up to his brothers all the property of the family, though he was the eldest son, and even begged them not to write to him nor send him any money, lest, notwith- standing their innocence, they should be ex- posed to the malice of his enemies, and fall with him into the pit. If truth cannot acknowledge him as one of her children, for she ever walks in company with holiness of life and charity of heart, she will at least accord to him all honourable mention as one of the most formidable enemies of error. 63 The same may be said of Francis of Sick- ingen, his illustrious friend and protector. This noble knight, whom many of his con- temporaries judged worthy of the Imperial crown, s'vines in the foremost rank of the war- like antagonists of Rome. Though delight- ing in the noise of battles, he was full of ar- dour for learning, and veneration for its pro- fessors. At the head of an army which threatened Wiirtemberg, he commanded that in case Stutgard should be taken by assault, the house and property of the distinguished scholar, John Reuchlin, should be respected. He afterwards invited him to his camp, em- braced him and tendered him his assistance in the contest between him and the monks of Cologne. Chivalry had for a long time prided itself in despising learning. The period we are retracing presents a new spectacle. Under the ponderous cuirasses of Sickingen and Hiit- ten, we perceive that new movement of the general intelligence then everywhere begin- ning to make itself felt. The Reformation gave to the world as its first fruits, warriors who were friends of the arts and of peace. Hiitten, during his residence at the castle of Sickingen, after his return from Brussels, encouraged the brave knight to study the evangelic doctrine, and explained to him the main truths on which it is based. " And is there any man," exclaimed Sickingen in as- tonishment, "that dares seek to overturn such a doctrine ! Who dares to attempt it 1 ?" Several who were at a later period distin- guished as Reformers found a refuge in his castle. Among others Martin Bucer, Aquila, Schwebel, (Ecolampadius; so that Hiitten, with some reason, designated Ebernburg the " house of the just/' (Ecolampadius preach- ed, according to his custom, every day at the castle. Nevertheless the warriors there col- lected were ere long weary of hearing so much of the mild virtues of Christianity; the ser- mons were too long for them, though (Ecolam- padius did his best to be brief. They, how- ever, came every day to church, but it was merely to hear the benediction, or to make a short prayer, so that (Ecolampadius was used to exclaim, "Alas! the word is here sown upon rocks." Soon after, Sickingen, wishing to help the cause of truth in his own fashion, declared war against the Archbishop of Treves, " to 6 open a door," as he said " for the Gospel." It was in vain that Luther, who had then ap- peared, dissuaded him from it; he attacked Treves with five thousand horse and a thou- sand foot. The courageous Archbishop as- sisted by the Palatine and the Landgrave of Hesse, compelled him to retreat. In the spring following, the allies besieged him in his castle of Landstein. After a 'bloody as- sault, Sickingen was obliged to retire: he was mortally wounded. The three princes pene- trated into the fortress, and passing through its apartments, found the lion-hearted knight in a vault, stretched on his death-bed. He put forth his hand to the Palatine, without seeming to notice the princes who accompa- nied him. But they overwhelmed him with questions and reproaches. " Leave me in quiet," said he, " for I must now prepare to answer to a greater Lord than ye." When Luther heard of his death, he exclaimed, " The Lord is just but wonderful ! It is not by the sword that he will have his gospel propagated." Such was the melancholy end of a warrior who, as Emperor, or as an Elector, might perhaps have raised Germany to a high degree of glory, but who, confined within a narrow circle, expended uselessly the great powers with which he was gifted. It was not in the tumultuous minds of these warriors that divine truth came to fix her abode. It was not by their arms that the truth was to prevail ; and God by bringing to nought the mad projects of Sickingen, confirmed anew the testimony of St. Paul, "The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God." Another knight, Harmut of Cronberg, the friend of Hiitten and Sickingen, appears, how- ever, to have had more wisdom and knowledge of the truth. He wrote with much modesty to Leo X., urging him to restore his temporal power to him to whom it belonged, namely, to the Emperor. Addressing his subjects as a father, he endeavoured to explain to them the doctrines of the Gospel, and exhorted them to faith, obedience, and trust in Jesus Christ, " who," added he, " is the sovereign Lord of all." He resigned to the Emperor a pension of two hundred ducats, " because he would no longer serve one who gave ear to the enemies of the truth." And we find a saying of his re- corded, which places him in our judgment above Hiitten and Sickingen. " Our heaven- ly teacher, the Holy Ghost, can, when he pleases, teach us in one hour much more of the faith of Christ, than could be learned in ten years at the University of Paris." However, those who only look for the friends of the Reformation on the steps of 67 thrones, or in cathedrals and academies, and who suppose it had no friends amongst the people, are greatly mistaken. God, who was preparing the hearts of the wise and powerful, was also preparing amongst the lowest of the people many simple and humble men, who were one day to become the promoters of his truth. The history of those times shows the excitement that prevailed among the lower classes. There were not only many young D2 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. men who rose to fill the highest offices in the j shop, situated at one of the gates of the im- Church, but there were men who continued perial city of Nuremberg, proceeded sounds all their lives employed in the humblest occu- pations, who powerfully contributed to the revival of Christianity. We relate some cir- cumstances in the life of one of them. He was the son of a tailor named Hans that resounded through all Germany, prepar ing the minds of men for a new era, and every- where endearing to the people the great revo- lution which was then in progress. The spiritual songs of Hans Sachs, his Bible in Sachs, and was born at Nuremberg, the 5th | verse, powerfully assisted this work. It November, 1494. He was named Hans (John) after his father, and had made some ', aid great attention to the learned, and often invited to his table the ecclesiastics and school- masters of the place. His house afforded a sample of those social meetings of citizens that did honour to Germany in the beginning of the 16th century. It was a kind of mirror, to which came, and wherein were reflected, the numerous subjects which successively took possession of the agitated stage of the times. The child derived advantage from this. Doubtless the sight of these men, to whom so much respect was shown in his father's house, excited in the haart of young Martin the ambitious desire that he himself might one day be a schoolmaster or a man of learning. As soon as he was old enough to receive instruction, his parents endeavoured to com- municate to him the knowledge of God, to train him in His fear, and form him to the practice of the Christian virtues. They applied the utmost care to this earliest domestic educa- tion. 6 But their solicitude was not confined to this instruction. His father, desiring to see him acquire the elements of that learning for which he had so much esteem, invoked upon him the blessing of God, and sent him to school. Martin was then a little child. His father and Nicholas Emler, a young man of Mansfeld, often car- ried him in their arms to the house of George Ernilius, and came again to fetch him. Years afterwards, Emler married Luther's sister. Fifty years later, the Reformer reminded the aged Nicholas of this touching mark of affec- tion received in his childhood, and commemo- rated it on the blank leaves of a book present- ed to this old friend. 7 The piety of his parents, their active turn of rnind and strict virtue, gave to the boy a happy impulse, and helped to form in him a habit of seriousness and application. In those days it was the practice to use chastisements and fear as the main impulses in education. Margaret, although she sometimes approved the too great severity of her husband, often opened her maternal arms to Martin, and com- forted him in his tears. Yet she herself over- stepped the precept of that wisdom which tells us that he who loves his child will chastise him early. The resolute character of the child gave frequent occasion for correction and re- primand. " My parents," said Luther in after life, "treated me cruelly, so that I became very timid ; one day for a mere trifle my mother whipped me till the blood came. They truly thought they were doing right ; but they had no discernment of character, which is yet absolutely necessary, that we may know when, on whom, and how, punishment should be inflicted." 8 At school, the poor child was treated with equal severity. His master flogged him fifteen times in one day. " It is right," said Luther, relating this fact, " it is right to punish child- ren, but at the same time we must love them." With such an education Luther early learned to despise the attractions of a self-indulgent life. It is a just remark of one of his earliest biographers, that " that which is to become great must begin in small things ; and if child- ren are from their youth brought up with too much daintiness and care, they are injured for the rest of their lives." Martin learned something at school. He HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 39 was taught the heads of the Catechism, the Ten Commandments, the Apostles' Creed, the Lord's Prayer, some hymns, some forms of prayer, a Latin Grammar composed in the fourth century by Donatus, master of St. Jerome, and which, improved by Remigius, a French monk, in the eleventh century, was for a long while in great repute in the schools; he also read the Cisio Janus, a singular calendar, composed in the tenth or eleventh century ; in a word all that was studied in the Latin school of Mansfeld. But it appears that the child was not yet led to God. The only religious feeling that he then manifested was that of fear. Every time that he heard Christ spoken of, he turned pale with terror ; for he had been represented to him only as an angry judge. 9 This servile fear, which is so far removed from true reli- gion, perhaps prepared his mind for the good tidings of the gospel, and for that joy which he afterwards felt when he learned to know Christ as meek and lowly of heart. John Luther, in conformity with his pre- dilections, resolved to make his son a scholar. That new world of light and science which was everywhere producing vague excitement, reached even to the cottage of the miner of Mansfeld, and excited the ambition of Martin's father. The remarkable character, and per- severing application of his son, made John conceive the highest hopes of his success. Therefore, when Martin was fourteen years of age, in 1497, his father came to the resolu- tion of parting from him, and sending him to the school of the Franciscans at Magdeburg. Margaret was obliged to yield to this decision, and Martin made preparations for leaving his paternal roof. Amongst the young people of Mansfeld, there was one named John Reinecke, the son of a respectable burgher. Martin and John, who had been school-fellows, in early child- hood, had contracted a friendship which lasted to the end of their lives. The two boys set out together for Magdeburg. It was at that place, when separated from their families, that they drew closer the bonds of their friend- ship. Magdeburg was like a new world to Martin. In the midst of numerous privations, (for he had hardly enough to subsist on,) he observed and listened. Andreas Proles, a provincial of the Augustine order, was then preaching with great zeal the necessity of reforming Religion and the Church. Perhaps these discourses deposited in the soul of the youth the earliest germ of the thoughts which a later period unfolded. This was a severe apprenticeship for Luther. Cast upon the world at fourteen, without friends or protectors, he trembled in the pre- sence of his masters, and in his play-hours he and some children, as poor as himself, with difficulty begged their bread. "I was accus- tomed," says he, "with my companions to beg a little food to supply our wants. One day about Christmas time, we were going all together through the neighbouring villages, from house to house, singing in concert the usual carols on the infant Jesus born at Bethlehem. We stopped in front of a pea- sant's house which stood detached from the rest, at the extremity of the village. The peasant hearing us sing our Christmas carols, came out with some food which he meant to give us, and asked in a rough loud voice, 'Where are you, boys?' Terrified at these words, we ran away as fast as we could. We had no reason to fear, for the peasant offered us this assistance in kindness; but our hearts were no doubt become fearful from the threats and tyranny which the masters then used towards their scholars, so that we were seized with sudden fright. At last, however, as the peasant still continued to call after us, we stopped, forgot our fears, ran to him, and received the food that he offered us. It is thus," adds Luther, " that we tremble and flee when our conscience is guilty and alarmed. Then we are afraid even of the help that is offered us, and of those who are our friends, and wish to do us good." 10 A year had scarcely elapsed, when John and Margaret, hearing what difficulty their son found in supporting himself at Magdeburg, sent him to Eisenach, where there was a cele- brated school, and at which place they had relations. 11 They had other children, and though their circumstances were much improved, they could not maintain their son in a city where he was a stranger. The unremitting labours of John Luther could do no more than support the family at Mansfeld. He hoped that when Martin got to Eisenach he would find it easier to earn his living. But he was not more fortunate there than he had been at Magdeburg. His relations who lived in the town did not trouble themselves about him, or perhaps they were very poor and could not give him any assistance. When the young scholar was pressed with hunger, he was obliged, as at Magdeburg, to go with his school-fellows and sing in the streets to earn a morsel of bread. This cus- tom of Luther's time is still preserved in many towns in Germany. These young people's voices sometimes form a most harmo- nious concert. Often the poor modest boy, instead of bread, received nothing but harsh words. More than once, overwhelmed with sorrow, he shed many tears in secret; he could not look to the future without trem- bling. One day, in particular, after having been repulsed from three houses, he was about to return fasting to his lodging, when having reached the Place St. George, he stood before the house of an honest burgher, motionless, and lost in painful reflections. Must he, for want of bread, give up his studies, and go to work with his father in the mines of Mans- feld? Suddenly a door opens, a woman appears on the threshold : it is the wife of Conrad Cotta, a daughter of the burgomaster of Eilfeld. 12 Her name was Ursula. The chronicles of Eisenach call her "the pious Shunamite," in remembrance of her who so 40 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. earnestly entreated the prophet Elijah to eat bread with her. This Christian Shunamite had more than once remarked young Martin in the assemblies of the faithful ; she had been affected by the sweetness of his voice and his apparent devotion. 13 She had heard the harsh words with which the poor scholar had been repulsed. She saw him over- whelmed with sorrow before her door; she came to his assistance, beckoned him to enter, and supplied his urgent wants. Conrad approved his wife's benevolence; he even found so much pleasure in the society of young Luther, that, a few days afterwards, he took him to live in his house. From that moment he no longer feared to be obliged to relinquish his studies. He was not to return to Mansfeld, and bury the talent that God had committed to his trust! God had opened the heart and the doors of a Christian family at the very moment when he did not know what would become of him. This event disposed his soul to that confidence in God, which at a later period the severest trials could not shake. In the house of Cotta, Luther lived a very different life from that which he had hitherto done. He enjoyed a tranquil existence, exempt from care and want; his mind became more calm, his disposition more cheerful, his heart more enlarged. His whole nature was awakened by the sweet beams of charity, and began to expand into life, joy, and happiness. His prayers were more fervent; his thirst for learning became more ardent; and he made rapid progress in his studies. To literature and science he united the study of the arts ; for the arts also were then advancing in Germany. The men whom God designs to influence their contemporaries, are themselves at first influenced and led by the tendencies of the age in which they live. Luther learned to play on the flute and on the lute. He often accompanied his fine alto voice with the latter instrument, and thus cheered his heart in his hours of sadness. He also took pleasure in expressing by his melody his gratitude to his adoptive mother, who was very fond of music. He himself loved this art even to his old age, and com- posed the words and music of some of the most beautiful German hymns. Happy time for the young man ! Luther always looked back to them with emotion ! and a son of Conrad having gone many years after to study at Wittemberg, when the poor scholar of Eisenach had become the learned teacher of his age, he joyfully received him at his table and under his roof. He wished to repay in part to the son what he had received from the father and mother. It was when memory reverted to the Chris- tian woman who had supplied him with bread when every one else repulsed him, that he uttered this memorable saying: "There is nothing sweeter than the heart of a pious wo- man." But never did Luther feel ashamed of the time, when, pressed by hunger, he sorrow- fully begged the bread necessary for the sup- port of life and the continuance of his studies. So far from this, he thought with gratitude on the extreme poverty of his youth. He con- sidered it as one of the means that God had made use of to make him what he afterwards became, and he thanked him for it. The condi- tion of poor children, who were obliged to lead the same kind of life, touched him to the heart. " Do not despise," said he, " the boys who try to earn their bread by chanting before your door, * bread for the love of God,' Punem propier Deum. I have done the same. It is true that in later years my father maintained me at the University of Erfurth, with much love and kindness, supporting me by the sweat of his brow ; but at one time I was only a poor mendicant. And now by means of my pen, I have succeeded so well, that I would not change fortunes with the Grand Seignor himself. I may say more: if I were to be offered all the possessions of the earth heaped one upon another, I would not take them in exchange for what I possess. And yet I should never have known what I do, if I had not been to school, and been taught to write.'* Thus did this great man acknowledge that these humble beginnings were the origin of his glory. He was not afraid of reminding his readers that that voice whose accents elec- trified the Empire and the world, had not very long before begged a morsel of bread in the streets of a petty town. The Christian takes pleasure in such recollections, because they remind him that it is in God alone that he is permitted to glory. The strength of his understanding, the live- liness of his imagination, and his excellent memory, enabled him in a short time to get the start of all his fellow-students. 14 He made especially rapid progress in the dead lan- guages, in rhetoric, and in poetry. He wrote sermons, and made verses. Cheerful, oblig- ing, and what is called good-hearted, he was beloved by his masters and his companions. Amongst the professors, he was particularly attached to John Trebonius, a learned man, of an agreeable address, and who had that regard for the young which is so encouraging to them Martin had observed that when Trebonius came into the school-room he took off his hat and bowed to the scholars ; a great condescen- sion in those pedantic times. This had pleased the young man. He began to per- ceive that he himself was something. The respect paid him by his master had raised the scholar in his own estimation. The col- leagues of Trebonius, whose custom was dif- ferent, having one day expressed their asto- nishment at this extreme condescension, he answered them ; and his answer made an rnpression on young Luther. " There are," said he, " amongst these youths, some whom God will one day raise to the ranks of bur- gomasters, chancellors, doctors and magis- rates. Though you do not now see the outward signs of their respective dignities, it s yet proper to treat them with respect." Doubtless the young scholar heard these HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 41 words with pleasure, and perhaps he then saw himself in prospect adorned with a doc- tor's cap. Luther had attained his eighteenth year. He had tasted the sweets of learning. He thirsted after knowledge. He sighed for a university education. He longed to go to one of those fountains of all knowledge, where his thirst for it might be satisfied. 15 His father re- quired him to study the law. Full of confi- .dence in his son's talents, he desired to see him cultivate them and make them known in the world. Already, in anticipation, he beheld him filling honourable offices amongst his fel- low-citizens, gaining the favour of princes, and shining on the great stage of the world. It was determined that the young man should be sent to Erfurth. Luther arrived at that university in the year 1501; Jodocus, surnamed the Doctor of Eisenach, was then teaching scholastic philo- sophy in that place with great success. Me- lancthon regrets that there was at that time nothing taught at Erfurth but a logic beset with difficulties. He expresses the opinion that if Luther had met with professors of a different character, if he had been taught the milder and more tranquillizing doctrines of true philosophy, it might have moderated and softened the natural vehemence of his cha- racter. 16 The new pupil, however, began to study the philosophy of the times in the writ- ings of Occam, Scotus, Bonaventura, and Thomas Aquinas. In later years he looked upon this class of writers with abhorrence; he trembled with rage when even the name of Aristotle was pronounced in his presence ; and he went so far as to say that if Aristotle had not been a man, he should be tempted to take him for the devil. But his mind, eager for instruction, required better food ; and he ap- plied himself to the study of the best ancient authors, Cicero, Virgil, and others. He did not satisfy himself, like the generality of stu- dents, with learning by heart the works of these writers; but he endeavoured especially to fathom their thoughts, to imbibe the spirit by which they were animated, to make their wisdom his own, to comprehend the object they aimed at in their writings, and to enrich his understanding with their weighty sen- tences and brilliant descriptions. He often pressed his tutors with inquiries, and soon outstript his school-fellows. 17 Gifted with a retentive memory and a vivid imagination, all that he had read or heard remained fixed on his memory; it was as if he had seen it him- self. Thus did Luther distinguish himself in his early youth. "The whole University," says Melancthon, "admired his genius." 18 But even at this early period the young man of eighteen did not study merely with a view of cultivating his understanding; there was within him a serious thoughtfulness, a heart looking upwards, which God gives to those whom he designs to make his most zealous servants. Luther felt that he de- pended entirely upon God, a simple and powerful conviction, which is at once a prin- ciple of deep humility and an incentive to great undertakings. He fervently invoked the divine blessing upon his labours. Every morning he began the day with prayer; then he went to church ; afterwards he commenced his studies, and he never lost a moment in the course of the day. "To pray well," he was wont to say, "was the better half of study." 19 The young student spent in the library of the university the moments he could snatch from his academical labours. Books being then scarce, it was in his eyes a great privi- lege to be able to profit by the treasures of this vast collection. One day, (he had been then two years at Erfurth, and was twenty years of age,) he was opening the books in the li- brary one after another, in order to read the names of the authors. One which he opened in its turn drew his attention. He had not seen anything like it till that hour. He reads the title : it is a Bible ! a rare book, unknown at that time. 20 His interest is strongly excited ; he is filled with astonishment at finding more in this volume than those fragments of the gospels and epistles which the Church has se- lected to be read to the people in their places of worship every Sunday in the year. Till then he had thought that they were the whole word of God. And here are so many pages, so many chapters, so many books, of which he had no idea ! His heart beats as he holds in his hand all the Scripture divinely inspired. With eagerness and indescribable feelings he turns over these leaves of God's word. The first page that arrests his attention, relates the history of Hannah and the young Samuel. He reads, and can scarcely restrain his joyful emotion. This child whom his parents lend to the Lord as long as he liveth ; Hannah's song in which she declares that the Lord raiseth up the poor out of the dust and lifteth up the beggar from the dunghill, to set him among princes ; the young Samuel who grows up in the temple before the Lord ; all this his- tory, all this revelation which he has discover- ed, excites feelings till then unknown. He returns home with a full heart. "Oh!" thought he, "if God would but give me such a book for my own ! 21 Luther did not yet under- stand either Greek or Hebrew. It is not pro- bable that he should have studied those lan- guages during the first two or three years of his residence in the university. The Bible that filled him with such transport was in Latin. He soon returned to the library to find his treasure again. He read and re-read, and then in his surprise and joy, he went back to read again. The first gleams of a new truth then arose in his mind. Thus has God caused him to find His word ! He has now discovered that book of which he is one day to give to his countrymen that ad- mirable translation in which the Germans for three centuries have read the oracles of God. For the first time, perhaps, this precious volume has been removed from the place that it occupied in the library at Erfurth. This book, deposited upon the unknown shelves of a dark room, is soon to become the book of life to a HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. whole nation, that Bible. The Reformation lay hid in I grounded hope of immortality. Two events occurred, one after the other, to rouse his soul It was in the same year that Luther took his first academical degree, that of a bachelor. The excessive labour he had undergone in preparing for his examination, occasioned a dangerous illness. Death seemed at hand. Serious reflections filled his mind. He thought his earthly career was at an end. All were interested about the young man. " It was a pity," thought they, " to see so many hopes so early extinguished." Several friends came to -visit him on his sick bed. Amongst them was an old man, a venerable priest, who had observed with interest the labours and academi- cal life of the student of Mansfeld. Luther could not conceal the thoughts that filled his mind. " Soon," said he, " I shall be sum- moned hence." But the prophetic old man kindly answered. " My dear bachelor, take courage! you will not die this time. Our God will yet make you his instrument in com- forting many others. 22 For God lays his cross upon those whom he loves, and those who bear it patiently gain much wisdom." The words impressed the sick youth. It was as he lay in the dust of death that he heard the voice of a priest remind him that God, as Samuel's mother had said, raiseth up the poor. The old man has poured sweet consolation into his heart, and revived his spirits; he will never forget it. " This was the first prophecy the doctor ever heard," says Mathesius, the friend of Luther, who relates this circumstance, "and he often recollected it." We may easily comprehend in what sense Mathesius calls this speech a prophecy. When Luther was restored to health there was in him a something new. The Bible, his sickness, the words of the old priest, seemed to have called him to a new vocation. There was, however, as yet, no settled purpose in his mind. He resumed his studies. In 1505 he was made master of arts, or doctor in phi- losophy. The university of Erfurth was then the most celebrated in all Germany. The others were in comparison but inferior schools. The ceremony was performed according to custom, with much pomp. A procession with torches came to do honour to Luther. 23 The festival was magnificent. There was general rejoicing. Luther, perhaps, encouraged by these honours, prepared to apply himself entirely to the study of the law, agreeably to the wishes of his father. But God willed otherwise. Whilst Luther was engaged in various studies, and beginning to teach natural philosophy and the ethics of Aristotle, with the other branches of philoso- phy, his conscience incessantly reminded him that religion was the one thing needful, and that his first care should be the salvation of his soul. He had learned God's hatred of sin ; he remembered the penalties that his word denounces against the sinner; and he asked himself tremblingly, if he was sure that he possessed the favour of God. His con- science answered : No! His character was prompt and decided ; he resolved to do all that depended upon himself, to ensure a well and confirm his resolution. Amongst his college friends there was one, named Alexis, with whom he was very inti- mate. One morning a report was spread in Erfurth that Alexis had been assassinated. Luther hurried to the spot and ascertained the truth of the report. This sudden loss of his friend affected him, and the question which he asked himself: " What would become of me, if / were thus suddenly called away 1" filled his mind with the liveliest apprehension. 24 It was then the summer of 1505. Luther availed himself of the leisure afforded him by the university vacation, to take a journey to Mansfeld, to revisit the beloved abode of his in- fancy, and to see his affectionate parents. Per- haps, also, he intended to open his heart to his father, to sound him upon the plan that was forming in his mind, and obtain his permission to engage in a different vocation. He foresaw all the difficulties that awaited him. The idle life of the greater part of the priests was par- ticularly offensive to the active miner of Mans- feld. The ecclesiastics were moreover little esteemed in society : most of them possessed but a scanty revenue, and the father who had made many sacrifices to keep his son at the university, and saw him lecturing publicly in his twentieth year, in a celebrated school, was not likely readily to renounce his proud hopes. We are not informed of what passed during Luther's abode at Mansfeld. Perhaps the de- cided wish of his father made him fear to open his mind to him. He again left his father's house for the halls of the academy. He was within a short distance of Erfurth when he was overtaken by a violent storm. The thun- der roared ; a thunderbolt sunk into the ground by his side. Luther threw himself on his knees. His hour is perhaps come. Death, judgment, eternity, are before him in all their terrors, and speak with a voice which he can no longer resist. "Encompassed with the anguish and terror of death," 25 as he himself says, he makes a vow, if God will deliver him from this danger, to forsake the world, and devote himself to His service. Risen from the earth, having still before his eyes that death that must one day overtake him, he ex- amines himself seriously, and inquires what he must do. 26 The thoughts that formerly troubled him return with redoubled power. He has endeavoured, it is true, to fulfil all his duties. But what is the state of his soul? Can he, with a polluted soul, appear before the tribunal of so terrible a God 1 He must become holy. He now thirsts after holiness as he had thirsted after knowledge. But where shall he find it? How is it to be at- tained ? The university has furnished him with the means of satisfying his first wish. Who will assuage this anguish, this vehement desire that consumes him now 1 To what school of holiness can he direct his steps? He will go into a cloister ; the monastic life will ensure his salvation. How often has he been told of its power to change the heart, to cleanse HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 43 the sinner, to make man perfect ! He will enter into a monastic order. He will there become holy. He will thus ensure his eter- nal salvation. 27 Such was the event that changed the voca- tion and the whole destiny of Luther. The hand of God was in it. It was that powerful hand that cast to the ground the young master of arts, the aspirant to the bar, the intended jurisconsult, to give an entirely new direction to his after life. Rubianus, one of Luther's friends at the university of Erfurth, .wrote to him in later times: "Divine Providence fore- saw what you would one day become, when, on your return from your parents, the fire of heaven struck you to the ground, like another Paul, near the city of Erfurth, and separating you from us, led you to enter the Augustine order." Thus, similar circumstances marked the conversion of two of the greatest instru- ments chosen by Divine Providence to effect the two greatest revolutions that have ever taken place upon the earth : Saint Paul and Luther.* Luther re-onters Erfurth. His resolution is unalterable. Still it is with reluctance that he prepares to break ties that are so dear to him. He does not communicate his design. to any of his companions. But one evening he invites his college friends to a cheerful and simple repast. Music once more enlivens their social meeting. It is Luther's farewell to the world. Henceforth the companions of his pleasures and studies are to be exchanged for the society of monks; cheerful and witty discourse for the silence of the cloister : merry voices, for the solemn harmony of the quiet chapel. God calls him; he must sacrifice all things. Now, however, for the last time, let him give way to the joys of his youth ! The repast excites his friends. Luther himself encourages their joy. But at the moment when their gaiety is at its height, the young man can no longer repress the serious thoughts that occupy his mind. He speaks. He de- clares his intention to his astonished friends ; they endeavour to oppose it; but in vain. And that very night Luther, perhaps dreading their importunity, quits his lodgings. He leaves behind his books and furniture, taking with him only Virgil and Plautus. (He had not yet a Bible.) Virgil and Plautus! an epic poem, and comedies ! Singular picture of Luther's mind ! .There was, in fact, in his character, the materials of a complete epic poem; beauty, grandeur, ai^}, sublimity ; but his disposition inclined to gaiety, wit, and mirth ; and more than one ludicrous trait broke forth from the serious and noble ground- work of his life. Furnished with these two books, he goes alone in the darkness of the night, to the con- vent of the hermits of -St. Augustine. He asks admittance. The door opens and closes again. Behold him forever separated from, his parents, from his companions in study, and from the world. It was the 17th of August, 1505. Luther was then twenty-one years and nine months old. At length he is with God. His soul is safe. He is now to obtain that holiness he so ar- dently desired. The monks who gathered round the young doctor were full of admiration, commending his decision and renunciation of the world. 28 But Luther did not forget his friends. He wrote to them, bidding adieu to them and to the world, and the next day he sent them these letters, together with the clothes he had till then worn, and the ring he received, when made master of arts, which he returned to the university, that nothing might remind him of the world he had renounced. His friends at Erfurth were struck with astonishment. Must it be, thought they, that such eminent talents should be lost in that monastic life, which is but a kind of burial alive. 29 Full of grief, they immediately re- paired to the convent, in hopes of inducing Luther to retract so fatal a resolution; but in vain. The doors were closed against them. A whole month was to elapse before any one could be permitted to see the new monk, or to speak to him. Luther had almost immediately communi- cated to his parents the great change that had now taken place. His father was thunder- struck. He trembled for his son, as Luther himself tells in the dedication of his book on monastic vows, addressed to his father. His weakness, his youth, the strength of his pas- sions, made his father fear that, after the first moments of enthusiasm should have passed, the indolent life of a monk might either tempt the. young man to despair, or occasion him to fall into some grievous sin. He knew that a monastic life had already ruined many. Be- sides, the miner of Mansfeld had formed other plans for his son. He had hoped that he would contract a rich and honourable mar- riage. And now all his ambitious projects were overthrown in one night by this impru- dent step. John wrote an angry letter to his son, in which he used a tone of authority that he had laid aside from the period when his son had been made Master of Arts. He withdrew all his favour, and declared him disinherited from a father's love. In vain did John Luther's friends, and doubtless his wife, endeavour to soften his displeasure, by saying: "If you would make a sacrifice to God, let it be the best and dearest of your possessions, your son, your Isaac." The inexorable town-coun- cillor of Mansfeld would listen to nothing. After some time, however, (Luther tells us this in a sermon preached at Wittemberg, the 20th of January, 1544,) the plague visited the neighbourhood, and deprived John Luther of two of his sons. Just then there came one * Some historians relate that Alexis was killed by the thunder-bolt that alarmed Luther; but two contemporaries, Mathesius and Selneccer (in Orat. de Luth.) distinguish between these two events ; we may even add to their testimony that of Me- lancthon, who says, " Sodalem nescio quo casu | who tol(1 the father ' who was in deep afflic- iaterfectum." (Vita Luth.) Ition: "The monk of Erfurth is also dead." 44 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. His friends took that opportunity of recon- ciling the father to the young novice. " If it should be a false report," said they, "at least sanctify your present affliction by consenting that your son should be a monk." " Well, be it so," said John Lutber, with a heart broken and yet struggling; "and God grant he may prosper !" When Luther, at a later period, reconciled to his father, related the event that had induced him to embrace a monastic life : " God grant," replied the worthy miner, "that you may not have mistaken a delusion of the devil for a sign from heaven." 30 There was then in Luther little of that which made him in after life the Reformer of the Church. His entering into a convent is a proof of this. It was an act in that spirit of a past age from which he was to contribute to deliver the Church. He who was about to become the teacher of the world, was as yet only its servile imitator. A new stone was added to the edifice of superstition, by the very person who was shortly to overturn it. Lu- ther was then looking for salvation in himself, in works and observances ; he knew not that salvation cometh of God only. He sought to establish his own righteousness and his own glory, being ignorant of the righteousness and glory of God. But what he was then igno- rant of he soon learned. It was in the cloister of Erfurth that the great change was effected which substituted in his heart God and His wisdom, for the world and its traditions, and prepared the mighty revolution of which he was the most illustrious instrument. Martin Luther, on entering the convent, changed his name, and took that of Augustine. " What can be more mad and impious," said he, in relating this circumstance, "than to re- nounce one's Christian name for the sake of a cowl! It is thus the popes are ashamed of their Christian names, and show thereby that they are deserters from Jesus Christ." 31 The monks had received him joyfully. It was no small gratification to their self-love to see the university forsaken, by one of its most eminent scholars, for a house of their order. Nevertheless, they treated him harshly, and imposed upon him the meanest offices. They perhaps wished to humble the doctor of phi- losophy, and to teach him that his learning did not raise him above his brethren ; and thought, moreover, by this method, to prevent his devoting himself to his studies, from which the convent would derive no advantage. The former master of arts was obliged to perform the functions of door-keeper, to open and shut the gates, to wind up the clock, to sweep the church, to clean the rooms. 32 Then, when the poor monk, who was at once porter, sexton, and servant of the cloister, had finished his work : " Cum sacco per civitatem With your bag through the town!" cried the brothers; and, loaded with his bread-bag, he was obliged to go through the streets of Erfurth, begging from house to house, and perhaps at the doors of those very persons who had been either his friends or his inferiors. But he bore it all. Inclined, from his natural disposition, to de- vote himself heartily to whatever he under- took, it was with his whole soul that he had become a monk. Besides, could he wish to spare the body! to regard the satisfying of the flesh] Not thus could he acquire the humility, the holiness, that he had court? to seek within the walls of a cloister 1 ? The poor monk, overwhelmed with toil, eagerly availed himself of every moment he could snatch from his degrading occupations. He sought to retire apart from his companions, and give himself up to his beloved studies. But the brethren soon perceived this, came about him with murmurs, and forced him to leave his books: " Come, come! it is not by study, but by begging bread, corn, eggs, fish, meat and money, that you can benefit the cloister." 33 And Luther submitted, put away his books, and resumed his bag. Far from repenting of the yoke he had taken upon him- self, he resolved to go through with it. Then it was that the inflexible perseverance with which he ever prosecuted the resolutions he had once formed began to develope itself. His patient endurance of this rough usage gave a powerful energy to his will. God was exer- cising him first with small trials, that he might learn to stand firm in great ones. Besides, to be able to deliver the age in which he lived from the miserable superstitions under which it groaned, it was necessary that he should feel the weight of them. To empty the cup, he must drink it to the very dregs. This severe apprenticeship did not, how- ever, last so long as Luther might have feared. The prior of the convent, upon the intercession of the university of which Luther was a mem- ber, freed him from the mean offices the monks had imposed upon him. The young monk then resumed his studies with fresh zeal. The works of the Fathers of the Church, es- pecially those of St. Augustine, attracted his attention. The exposition which this cele- brated doctor has written upon the Psalms, and his book concerning the Letter and the Spirit, were his favourite reading. Nothing struck him so much as the opinions of this Father upon the corruption of man's will, and upon the grace of God. He felt, in his own experience, the reality of that corruption, and the necessity for that grace. The words of St. Augustine found an echo in his heart: if he could have belonged to any other school than that of Christ, it would have undoubted- ly been that of the doctor of Hippo. He almost knew by^ heart the works of Peter d'Ailly and of Gabriel Biel. He was struck with an observation of the former, that if the Church had not decided otherwise, it would have been preferable to allow that we really receive the bread and wine in the Holy Sacra- ment, and not mere accidents. He also studied with attention Occam and Gerson, who have so freely expressed them- selves concerning the authority of the Popes. To this course of reading he united other ex- ercises. He was heard publicly to unravel the most complicated arguments, and extri- cate himself from labyrinths whence others HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 45 could find no outlet. His hearers were asto- nished. 34 But it was not to gain the credit of being a great genius that he entered a cloister; it was to find the aliments of piety to God. 35 He regarded these pursuits only as recreations. He loved, above all, to draw wisdom from the pure spring of the Word of God. He found in the convent a Bible, fastened by a chain. He had constant recourse to this chained Bible. He understood but little of the Word ; but still it was his most absorbing study. Sometimes he would meditate on a single passage for a whole day ; another time hs learned by heart some parts of the Prophets, but above all he wished to acquire, from the writings of the Apostles and Prophets, the knowledge of God's will, to increase in reverence for His name, and to nourish his faith by the sure testimony of the word. 36 It was apparently at this period, that he began to study the Scriptures in the originals, and, by this means, to lay the foundation of the most perfect and useful of his printed works, the translation of the Bible. He made use of the Hebrew Lexicon, by Reuchlin, which had just appeared. John Lange, a brother in the convent, who was skilled in the Greek and Hebrew, and with whom he always main- tained an intimate acquaintance, probably as- sisted him at the outset. He also made much use of the learned comments of Nicholas Lyra, who died in 1340. It was this circumstance that made Pflug (afterwards Bishop of Naurn- burg) remark : " Si Lyra non lyrasset, Luther- us nun saltassef. If Lyra had not played his lyre Luther had never danced." 37 The young monk applied himself to his studies with so much zeal, that often, for two or three weeks together, he would omit the prescribed prayers. But he was soon alarmed by the thought that he had transgressed the rules of his order. Then he shut himself up to redeem his negligence; he set himself to repeat conscientiously all his omitted prayers without thinking of his necessary food. On one occasion he passed seven weeks almost without sleep. Burning with the desire after that holiness which he had sought in the cloister, Luther gave himself up to all the rigour of an ascetic life. He endeavoured to crucify the flesh by fastings, macerations, and watchings. 38 Shut up in his cell, as in a prison, he was continu- ally struggling against the evil thoughts and inclinations of his heart. A little bread, a single herring, were often his only food. In- deed he was constitutionally abstemious. So it was that his friends have often seen him, even after he had learned that heaven was not to be purchased by abstinence, content him- self with the poorest food, and go four days together without eating or drinking. 39 This is stated on the authority of a credible witness, Melancthori; and we see from this how little attention is due to the fables which igno- rance and prejudice have circulated as to in- temperance in Luther. Nothing was too great a sacrifice, at the period we speak of, for the sake of becoming holy to gain heaven. Never did the Rornish Church contain a monk of more piety ; never did a cloister witness efforts more sincere and unwearied to purchase eternal happiness. 40 When Luther, become a Reformer, declared that heaven could not be thus purchased, he knew \vell what he said; " Verily," wrote he to Duke George of Sax- ony, "I was a devout monk, and followed the rules of my order so strictly, that I cannot tell you all. If ever a monk entered into heaven by his monkish merits, certainly I should have obtained an entrance there. All the monks who knew me will confirm this ; and if it had lasted much longer, I should have become literally a martyr, through watchings, prayer, reading, and other labours." 41 We approach the period which made Luther a new man; and, by discovering to him the unfathomable love of God, created in him the power to declare it to the world. Luther did not find, in the tranquillity of the cloister and monkish perfection, the peace he was in quest of. He wanted an assurance that he was saved. This was the great want of his soul; without it he could not rest. But the fears which had shaken him in the world, pursued him to his cell. Nay, more,, they increased there, and the least cry of his conscience seemed to resound beneath the vaulted roofs of the cloister. God had led him thither, that he might learn to know him- self, and to despair of his own strength or virtues. His conscience, enlightened by the Divine Word, taught him what it was to be holy ; but he was filled with terror at finding, neither in his heart nor in his life, the tran- script of that holiness which he contemplated with wonder in the Word of God. Melancholy discovery ! and one that is made by every sincere man. No righteousness within ; no righteousness in outward action: everywhere omission of duty, sin, pollution. The more ardent Luther's natural character, the more powerful was this secret and constant resis- tance of his nature to that which is good, and the deeper did it plunge him into despair. The monks and theologians encouraged him to do good works, and in that way satisfy the divine justice. "But what works," thought he, " can proceed out of a heart like mine ? How can I, with works, polluted even in their source and motive, stand before a Holy Judge 1 ?" "I was, in the sight of God, a great sinner," says he; "and I could not think it possible for me to appease him with my merits" He was agitated and dejected ; shunning the trivial and dull discourse of the monks. The latter, unable to comprehend the tempes- tuous heavings of his soul, watched him with astonishment, while they complained of his silent and unsocial manners. 42 One day, Cochlaeus tells us, whilst mass was perform- ing in the chapel, Luther's abstraction led him thither, and he found himself in the choir in the midst of the monks, dejected and in anguish of mind. The priest had bowed before the altar the incense was offered, the HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. Gloria chanted, and the gospel was being read, when the unhappy monk, unable to suppress his mental torment, exclaimed, fall- ing upon his knees, " It is not I it is not I." The monks were all amazement, and the solemnity was for an instant interrupted. Luther may perhaps have thought he heard some reproach of which he knew himself guiltless ; or he may have meant, at the mo- ment, to declare himself undeserving of being of the number of those to whom Christ's death had brought eternal life. According to Cochlaeus, the gospel of the day was the account of the dumb man out of whom Jesus cast a devil. Possibly Luther's exclamation if the story be true,) had reference to this ct, and that resembling the dsemoniac in being like him speechless, he by his cry pro- tested that his silence was owing to a different cause from demoniacal possession. Indeed, Cochlaeus tells us that the monks did some- times ascribe the mental distresses of their brother to a secret intercourse with the devil, and that writer appears himself to have shared in the opinion. 44 A tender conscience led him to regard the least sin as a great crime. No sooner had he detected it, than he laboured to expiate it by the strictest self-denial ; and that served only to make him feel the inutility of all human remedies. " I tormented myself to death," says he, " to procure for my troubled heart and agitated conscience peace in the presence of God : but encompassed with thick darkness, I nowhere found peace." All the practices of monkish holiness which quieted so many drowsy consciences around Jiim, and to which in his agony of mind he had recourse, soon evinced themselves to be useless prescriptions of an empirical quackery in religion. " When during the time I was a monk, I felt temptations assail me, I am a lost man, thought I. Immediately I resorted to a thousand methods to appease the reproaches of my heart. I confessed every day. But all that was of no use. Then, overwhelmed with conflict. The young monk moved, like a spectre, through the long corridors of the clois- ters with sighs and groans. His bodily powers failed, his strength forsook him; sometimes he was motionless as if dead. 45 One day, overcome with sadness, he shut himself in his cell, and for several days and nights suffered no one to approach him. One of his friends, Lucas Edemberger, uneasy about the unhappy monk, and having some presentiment of his state, took with him some young boys, choral singers, and went and knocked at the door of his cell. No one open- ed or answered. The good Edemberger, still more alarmed, broke open the door, and dis- covered Luther stretched on the floor in un- consciousness, and without any sign of life. His friend tried in vain to recall his senses, but he continued motionless. Then the young choristers began to sing a sweet hymn. Their clear voices acted like a charm on the poor monk, to whom music had always been a source of delight, and by slow degrees his strength and consciousness returned. 46 But if for a few instants music could restore to him a degree of serenity, another and more power- ful remedy was needed for the cure of his mala- dy; there was needed that sweet and penetrat- ing sound of the Gospel, which is the voice of God. He felt this to be his want. Accord- ingly his sufferings and fears impelled him to study with unwearied zeal the writings of the Apostles and Prophets. 47 Luther was not the first monk who had passed through these conflicts. The cloisters often enveloped in their dark walls abomina- ble vices, which, if they had been revealed, would have made an upright mind shudder; but often also they concealed Christian vir- tues, which grew up beneath the shelter of a salutary retirement ; and which, if they had been brought forth to view, would have been the admiration of the world. They who pos- sessed these virtues, living only with each other and with God, drew no attention from without, and were often unknown even to the dejection, I distressed myself by the multi- small convent in which they were enclosed; tude of my thoughts. See, said I to myself, thou art envious, impatient, passionate; there- fore wretch that thou art ! it is of no use to thee to have entered into this holy order." And yet Luther, imbued with the prejudices of the age, had from his youth deemed the re- medies of which he now experienced the in- efficacy, the certain cure of a sick soul. What was to be thought of this strange discovery which he had just made in the solitude of his cloister? One may then live in the sanctuary, and yet carry within a man of sin. He has obtained another garment, but not their life was known only to God. At times these humble recluses fell into that mystic theo- logy, the melancholy failing of the noblest minds, which in an earlier age had been the delight of the first monks on the banks of the Nile, and which wears out unprofitably the souls in which it reigns. But whenever one of these men was called to fill a distinguished post, he manifested vir- tues of which the salutary effects were long and widely felt. The candle being placed on the candlestick, gave light to all the house; another many were awakened by this light. Thus it heart; his hopes are disappointed; where shall was that these pious souls were propagated he turn 1 ? All these rules and observances, from generation to generation ; and they were can they be mere inventions 1 Such a suppo- j shining like distant torches in the very periods sition appeared to him one moment as a temp- when the cloisters were often only the impure tation of the devil, and the next, an irresisti- j receptacles of darkness, ble truth. Struggling either against the holy I There was a young man who had thus dis- voice which spoke in his heart, or against the : tinguished himself in one of the convents in venerable institutions which had the sanction Germany. His name was John Staupitz; he of ages, Luther's existence was a continued j was descended from a noble family in Misnia. Prom e: HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 47 early youth he had been marked by a taste for letters and a love of virtue. 48 He felt the necessity of retirement that he might de- vote himself to learning. But he soon found that philosophy, and the study of nature, could do nothing for our eternal salvation. He therefore began to study divinity. But he especially endeavoured to join obedience with knowledge. " For," says one of his biographers, " it is in vain to call ourselves divines, if we do not confirm that noble title by our lives." The study of the Bible and of St. Augustine, the knowledge of himself, the war he, like Luther, had to wage with the deceitfulness and lusts of his own heart, led him to the Saviour. He found in faith in Christ, Peace to his soul. The doctrine of the Election by Grace especially engaged his thoughts. The uprightness of his life, the depth of his learning, the eloquence of his speech, no less than a striking exterior and dignified manners, recommended him to his contemporaries. 49 The Elector of Saxony, Frederic the Wise, honoured him with his friendship, employed him in several embas- sies, and founded under his direction the Uni- versity of Wittemberg. Staupitz was the first professor of divinity in that school, from whence the light was one day to issue to en- lighten the schools and churches of so many nations. He was present at the Council of Lateran, in place of the archbishop of Salz- burg, became provincial of his order in Thu- ringia and Saxony, and afterwards Vicar- general of the Augustines for all Germany. Staupitz deeply lamented the corruption of morals and the errors of doctrine which then devastated the Church. His writings on the love of God,' 'on Christian faith,' and 'con- formity with the death of Christ,' as well as the testimony of Luther, give proof of this. But he -considered the first of these two evils as much greater than the latter. Besides, the gentleness and indecision of his character, his desire not to go beyond the sphere of action which he thought assigned to him, made him more fit to be the restorer of a convent than the Reformer of the Church. He would have wished to raise none but men of distinguished characters to offices of importance, but not finding them, he submitted to the necessity of employing others. " We must," said he, " plough with such horses as we can find ; and if we cannot find horses, we must plough with oxen." 60 We have seen the anguish and internal struggles which Luther underwent in the con- vent of Erfurth. At this period the visit of the Vicar-general was announced. Staupitz, in fact, arrived in his usual visitation of in- spection. The friend of Frederic, the founder of the University of Wittemberg, the chief of the Augustines, cast a benevolent look upon those monks who were subject to his authority. Soon one of the brothers attracted his notice. He was a young man of middle stature, re- duced by study, fasting, and watching, so that you might count his bones. 51 His eyes, which were afterwards compared to a falcon's, were sunk; his demeanour was dejected; his coun- tenance expressed a soul agitated with severe conflicts, but yet strong and capable of en- durance. There was in his whole appearance something grave, melancholy, and solemn. Staupitz, who had acquired discernment by long experience, easily discerned what was passing in that mind, and at once distinguished the young monk from all his companions. He felt drawn towards him, had a kind of presentiment of his singular destiny, and soon experienced for his inferior a paternal interest. He, like Luther, had been called to struggle; he could, therefore, understand his feelings. He could, above all, show him the path to that peace which he had himself found. What he was told of the circumstances that had in- duced the young Augustine to enter the con- vent, increased his sympathy. He enjoined the prior to treat him with more mildness. He availed himself of the opportunities his office afforded for gaining the confidence of the young monk. He approached him affec- tionately, and endeavoured in every way to overcome the timidity of the novice a timidity increased by the respect and fear that he felt for a person of rank so exalted as that of Staupitz. The heart of Luther, which had remained closed under harsh treatment, at last opened and expanded to the sweet beams of love. " As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man." (Prov. xxvii. 9.) Staupitz's heart responded to that of Luther. The Vicar-general understood him. The monk felt towards him a confidence till then un- known. He opened to him the cause of his sadness, he described the horrid thoughts that distressed him, and hence ensued, in the clois- ter of Erfurth, conversations full of wisdom and instruction. . "It is in vain," said the dejected Luther to Staupitz, "that I make promises to God; sin is always too strong for me." " Oh, my friend," answered the Vicar- general, looking back on his own experience, "I have vowed to the holy God more than a thousand times that I would live a holy life, and never have I kept my vow ! I now make no more vows, for I know well I shall not keep them. If God will not be merciful to me for Christ's sake, and grant me a happy death when I leave this world, I cannot, with all my vows and good works stand before him. I must perish." 52 The young monk is terrified at the thought of divine justice. He confesses all his fears. The unspeakable holiness of God his sove- reign majesty fill him with awe. W 7 ho can endure the day of his coming? Who can stand when he appeareth ? Staupitz resumed. He knew where he had found peace, and it was in his heart to tell the young man. " Why," said he, " do you dis- tress yourself with these speculations and high thoughts ? Look to the wounds of Jesus Christ, to the blood which he has shed for you ; it is there you will see the mercy of God. Instead of torturing yourself for your E2 48 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. faults, cast yourself into the arms of the Re- deemer. Trust in him, in the righteousness of his life, in the expiatory sacrifice of his death. Do not shrink from him ; God is not against you ; it is you who are estranged and averse from God. Listen to the Son of God. He became man to assure you of the divine favour. He says to you, * You are my sheep ; you hear my voice ; none shall pluck you out of my hand.'" 53 But Luther could not find in himself the repentance he thought necessary to his salva- tion ; he answered, (and it is the usual answer of distressed and timid minds,) " How can I dare believe in the favour of God, so long as there is no real conversion? I must be changed before He can receive me." His venerable guide proves to him that there can be no real conversion, so long as man fears God as a severe judge. "What will you say then," cries Luther, " to so many consciences, to whom are prescribed a thousand insupportable penances in order to gain heaven?" Then he hears this answer from the Vicar- general ; or rather he does not beJieve that it comes from a man ; it seems to him a voice resounding from heaven. 54 "There is," said Staupilz, " no true repentance but that which begins in the love of God and of righteous- ness. 55 That which some fancy to be the end of repentance is only its beginning. In order to be filled with the love of that which is good, you must first be filled with the love of God. If you wish to be really converted, do not follow these mortifications and penances. Love him who has first loved you." Luther listens, and listens again. These consolations fill him with a joy before un- known, and impart to him a new light. "It is Jesus Christ," thinks he in his heart; "yes, it is Jesus Christ himself who comforts me so wonderfully by these sweet and saluta- ry words." 56 These words, indeed, penetrated the heart of the young monk like a sharp arrow from the bow of a strong man. 57 In order to repentance, we must love God! Guided by this new light, he consulted the Scriptures. He looked to all the passages which speak of repentance and conversion. These words, so dreaded hitherto, (to use his own expressions,) become to him an agreeable pastime and the sweetest refresh- ment. All the passages of Scripture which once alarmed him, seemed now to run to him from all sides, to smile, to spring up and play around him. 58 " Before," he exclaims, " though I carefully dissembled with God as to the state of my heart, and though I tried to express a love for him, which was only a constraint and a mere fiction, there was na word in the Scripture more bitter to me than that of repenlance. But now there is not one more sweet and pleasant to me. 59 Oh! how blessed are all God's pre- cepts, when we read them not in books alone, but in the precious wounds of the Saviour." 60 However, Luther, though comforted by the words of Staupitz, sometimes relapsed into depression. Sin was again felt in his timid conscience, and then to the joy of salvation, succeeded all his former despair. " Oh, my sin ! my sin ! my sin !' cried the young monk, one day in the presence of the Vicar-general, and in a tone of the bitterest grief. " Well, would you be only the semblance of a sinner," replied the latter, " and have only the semblance of a SAVIOUR?" And then Staupitz added with authority : " Know that Jesus Christ is the Saviour of those even who are real and great sinners, and deserving of utter con- demnation." It was not only the sin that he found in his heart that troubled Luther: to the doubts of his conscience were added those of his reason. If the holy precepts of the Bible distressed him, some of the doctrines of the divine word increased his distress. The truth, which is the great instrument by means of which God gives peace to man, must necessarily begin by taking from him that false confidence which is his ruin. The doctrine of election especially troubled the young man, and launched him into a field difficult indeed to explore. Must he believe that it was man who first chose God for his portion? or that it was God who first chose man? The Bible, history, daily expe- rience, the writings of Augustine, all had shown him that we must always and in every thing refer in the last case to that sovereign will by which every thing exists, and upon which every thing depends. But his ardent mind desired to go farther. He wished to penetrate into the secret counsels of God, to unveil his mysteries, to see the invisible, and comprehend the incomprehensible. Staupitz checked him. He persuaded him not to at- tempt to fathom God, who hideth himself; but to confine himself to what He has revealed of his character in Christ. " Look at the wounds of Christ," said he, "and you will there ee shining clearly the purpose of God towards men. We cannot understand God out of Christ. ' In Christ you will see what I am and what I require,' hath the Lord said ; ' you will not see it elsewhere, either in heaven or on earth.' " 61 The Vicar-general did yet more. He brought Luther to acknowledge the fatherly design of God's providence in permitting these tempta- tions and varied struggles with which his soul had to contend. He made him see them in a light well suited to revive his spirit. God prepares for himself by such trials the souls which he destines to some important work. We must prove the vessel before we launch it on the mighty deep. If education is neces- sary for every man, there is a particular educa- tion necessary for those who are to influence the generation in which they live. This is what Staupitz represented to the monk of Er- furth. " It is not for nothing," said he, " that God proves you by so many trials; however, you will see there are great things in which he will make use of you as his minister." These words, which Luther heard with wonder and humility, filled him with courage, and discovered to him in himself, powers which HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 49 lie had not even suspected. The wisdom and prudence of an enlightened friend gradually revealed the strong man to himself. Staupitz did not stop there. He gave him valuable di- rections for his studies. He advised him to derive henceforth all his divinity from the Bible, laying aside the systems of the schools. 11 Let the study of the Scriptures," said he, "be your favourite occupation." Never was better advice, or better followed. But what especially delighted Luther, was the present that Staupitz made him of a Bible. At last he himself possessed that treasure which until that hour he had been obliged to seek either in the library of the University, or at the chain in the convent, or in the cell of a friend. From that time he studied the Scriptures, and espe- cially St. Paul's Epistles, with increasing zeal. His only other reading was the works of St. Augustine. All that he read was power- fully impressed upon his mind. His struggles had prepared him to understand the word. The soil had been deeply ploughed ; the incorrupti- ble seed took deep root. When Staupitz left Erfurth, a new light had arisen upon Luther. Still the work was not finished. The Vicar- general had prepared it. God reserved the completion of it for a more humble instrument. The conscience of the young Augustine had not yet found repose. His health at last sunk under the exertions and stretch of his mind. He was attacked with a malady that brought him to the gates of the grave. It was then the second year of his abode at the convent. All his anguish and terrors returned in the prospect of death. His own impurity and God's holiness again disturbed his mind. One day when he was overwhelmed with despair, an old monk entered his cell, and spoke kindly to him. Luther opened his heart to him, and acquainted him with the fears that disquieted him. The respectable old man was incapable of entering into all his doubts, as Staupitz had done; but he knew his Credo, and he had found there something to comfort his own heart. He thought he would apply the same remedy to the young brother. Calling his attention therefore to the Apostle's creed, which Luther had learnt in his early child- hood at the school of Mansfeld, the old monk uttered in simplicity this article: " / believe in the forgiveness of sins." These simple words, ingenuously recited by the pious brother at a critical moment, shed sweet con- solation in the mind of Luther. " I believe," repeated he to himself on his bed of suffering, "1 believe the remission of sins." "Ah," said the monk, " you must not only believe that David's or Peter's sins are forgiven : the devils believe that. 68 The commandment of God is that we believe our own sins are for- given." How sweet did this commandment appear to poor Luther ! " Hear what St. Ber- nard says in his discourse on the Annuncia- tion," added the old brother. "The testimony which the Holy Ghost applies to your heart is this : ' Thy sins are forgiven theeS " From that moment the light shone into the heart of the young monk of Erfurth. The word of Grace was pronounced, and he believed it. He renounced the thought of meriting sal- vation ; and trusted himself with confidence to God's Grace in Christ Jesus. He did not perceive the consequence of the principle he admitted ; he was still sincerely attached to the Church : and yet he was thenceforward independent of it; for he had received salva- tion from God himself; and Romish Catho- licism was virtually extinct to him. From that hour Luther went forward; besought in the writings of the Apostles and Prophets for all that might strengthen the hope which rilled his heart. Every day he implored help from above, and every day new light was im- parted to his soul. This comfort to his spirit restored health to his body. He quickly arose from his sick-bed. He had received new life in more than one sense. The festival of Christmas, which soon after arrived, was to him an occasion of rich enjoyment of all the consolations of faith. He took part in the solemnities of that sacred season with sweet emotion; and when, in the services of the day, he had to sing these words, " beata culpa quac talem meruisti Redemp- torem!" Gs his whole soul joyfully responded Jlmen. Luther had now been two years in the clois- ter. The time drew near when he was to be ordained priest. He had received largely ; and he looked forward with joy to the liberty afforded, by the priest's office, of freely giving what he had so freely received. He resolved to take advantage of the approaching solem- nity, to be perfectly reconciled to his father. He invited him to be present at it, and even asked him to fix the day. John Luther, who had not yet entirely forgiven his son, neverthe- less accepted this invitation, and named Sun- day, May 2, 1507. Amongst the number of Luther's friends was John Braun, vicar of Eisenach, who had been his faithful adviser during his abode in that town. Luther wrote to him on the 22d of April : this is the earliest letter extant of the Reformer. It is addressed : " To John Braun, holy and venerable priest of Christ and of Mary." It is only in the two earliest letters of Luther that the name of the Virgin occurs. " God, who is glorious and holy in all his works," said the candidate for the priesthood, "having condescended to raise me up, who am but a wretched man, and in every way an unworthy sinner, and to call me, by his alone and most free mercy, to his high and holy ministry, I, that I may testify my gratitude for goodness so divine and munificent, ought (as far as dust and ashes can) to fulfil, with all my heart, the office intrusted to me. " For this cause, my beloved father, lord, and brother, 1 ask you, if you have time, and your ecclesiastical and domestic affairs allow it, to deign to assist me by your presence and your prayers, that my sacrifice may be ac- ceptable in the sight of God. " But I give you notice, that you must come straight to our monastery, and spend some 50 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. time with us, without seeking any other lodg- incr; you must become an inhabitant of our cells." At length the day arrived. The miner of Mansfelddid not fail to be present at the con- secration of his son. He even gave him an unequivocal proof of his affection and gene- rosity, by making him a present on this occa sion of twenty florins. The ceremony took place. Jerome, bishop of Brandenburg, officiated. At the moment in which he conferred upon Luther the power of celebrating the mass, he put the cup into his hand, and addressed him in these solemn words: " JLctipe potestatem mcrificandi pro vivis et morluis Receive the power of offering- sacrifice for the living and the dead." Luther, at that moment listened calmly to these words, which granted him power to do the work of the Son of God himself; but, at a later period, they made him shudder. "That the earth did not then swallow us both up," says he, " was an instance of the patience and long suffering of the Lord." 61 His father afterwards dined in the convent with his son, the friends of the young priest, and the monks. The conversation turned on Martin's enterance into the cloister. The brethren commended it as a highly meritori- ous action ; on which the inflexible John, turn- ing to them, remarked : *' Have you not read in the scripture, that it is a duty to obey father and mother 1" These words struck Luther. They exhibited the action which brought him into the convent in a totally different light; and long afterwards they resounded in his heart. Luther, after his consecration, acting by the advice of Staupitz, made several short excur- sions on foot to the parishes and convents of the environs ; either to occupy his mind, or for the sake of necessary exercise ; or else to accustom himself to preaching. It had been appointed that Corpus-Christi should be kept with much ceremony at Eisle- ben. The Vicar-general was to be present : Luther attended. He still felt his need of Staupitz, and took every opportunity of being in the company of that enlightened guide, who helped forward his soul in the way of life. The procession was numerous and gaudy. Staupitz himself carried the host: Luther followed next in his priestly garments. The thought that Jesus Christ himself was borne before him by the Vicar-general, the idea that the Lord in person was present, sudden- ly struck upon Luther's imagination, and so overawed him, that it was with difficulty he went forward: a cold sweatcame over him ; he staggered, and thought he should die in the ago- ny of his fear : at last the procession stopped. The host which had awakened the monk's ter- rors was reverently deposited in the sacristy, and Luther, left alone with Staupitz, threw himself into his arms, and confessed the cause of his fear. Then the Vicar-general, who had long known that gracious Saviour who breaks not the bruised reed, gently whis- 1 pered ! " Dear brother, it was not Jesus j Christ; for Christ does not terrify; he ever comforts." 65 Luther was not destined to remain hidden in an obscure convent. The time had arrived which was to transfer him to a wider theatre. Staupitz, with whom he still maintained a regular correspondence, was well persuaded that there was in the young monk a spirit too stirring to be confined within a narrow range. He spoke of him to Frederic, the Elector of Saxony; and that enlightened prince invited Luther, in 1508, probably near the close of that year, to become professor of the Univer- sity of Wittemberg. Wittemberg was the field on which Luther was ordained to fight many a hard battle. He felt himself called thither. He was pressed to repair quickly to his new post. He answered the call imme- diately; and in the haste of his removal, he had not time even to write to one whom he called his master and well-beloved father, the curate of Eisenach, John Braun. He wrote to him from Wittemberg, a few months after : " My departure was so sudden," said he, " that it was almost unknown to those with whom I was living. It is true, I am at a greater dis- tance, but the better half of me remains still with you ; and the further I am removed in bodily presence, the more closely my spirit is drawn to you." 06 Luther had been three years in the cloister of Erfurth. Arriving at Wittemberg, he repaired to the convent of the Augustines, where a cell was assigned him ; for though a professor, he ceased not to be a monk. He was appointed to teach physics and dialectics. This ap- pointment was probably conferred upon him in consideration of his philosophical studies at Erfurth, and his degree of master of arts. Thus Luther, who was then hungering and thirsting for the word of God, was obliged to apply himself almost exclusively to the scho- lastic philosophy of Aristotle. He felt the need of that bread of life which God gives to the world ; and he was forced to bury himself in mere human subtleties. Hard necessity ! how did he sigh under it ! "I am very well, by God's favour," wrote he to Braun, " but that I am compelled to give my whole atten- tion to philosophy. From the moment of my arrival at Wittemberg I have longed to ex- change that study for theology; but," added he, lest he should be thought to mean the the- ology of that age, "I mean that theology which seeks the kernel of the nut, the pulp of the wheat, the marrow of the bone. 67 How- ever things may go, God is God," continued he with that confidence which was the life of his soul, "man almost always errs in his judg- ment; but this is our God forever and ever; ie will be our guide unto death." The la- jours that were then imposed upon Luther were at a later period of great use in enabling him to combat the errors of the schools. He could not rest there. The desire of his heart was destined to be fulfilled. That same power, which some years before had driven Luther from the bar to a religious life, now impelled him to the Bible. He applied HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 51 3lf zealously to the study of the ancient iguages, especially the Greek and Hebrew, lat he might draw knowledge and doctrine the fountain head. He was, through life, indefatigable in his studies. 68 Some months after his arrival at the university he solicited the degree of bachelor in divinity He obtained it at the end of March, 1509, with a particular direction to Biblical theo- logy. Evi ]very day at one o'clock Luther was ex- pected to discourse upon the Bible ; a precious hour for the professor and the pupils, and which always gave them deeper insight into the divine sense of those discoveries so long lost to the people and to the schools. He began these lectures, by explaining the Psalms, and he soon passed to the Epistle to the Romans. It was especially in meditating upon this book that the light of truth entered his heart. In the retirement of his tranquil cell, he devoted whole hours to the study of the divine word, with St. Paul's Epistle open before him. One day having proceeded as far as the 17th verse of the first chapter, he there read this passage of the prophet Habak- kuk : " The just shall live by faith." The precept strikes him. There is then for the just another life than that possessed by the rest of men; and this life is the fruit of faith. This word, which he receives into his heart as if God himself had planted it there, discloses to him the mystery of the Christian life, and increases that life in his soul. In the midst of his struggles in after life, the words often recurred to him, "The just shall live by faith." 69 The lectures of Luther, with such a prepara- tion, were very different from any that had been heard before. It was not now an eloquent rhetorician, or a pedantic schoolman who spoke ; it was a Christian who had experienced the power of revealed truths; who derived them from the Bible, who drew them from the treasury of his own heart, and presented them in full life to his astonished auditors. It was no longer man's teaching, but God's. This altogether new way of exhibiting the truth made some noise : the rumour of it spread far, and attracted to the newly founded university a crowd of young and foreign students. Several even of the professors attended Luther's lectures, and amongst others, the celebrated Martin Pollich of Mel- lerstadt, doctor of physic, law, and philosophy, who, with Staupitz, had organized the uni- versity of Wittemberg, and had been its first rector. Mellerstadt, who has been often called "the light of the world," modestly mixed with the pupils of the new professor. " This monk," said he, "will put all doctors to the rout; he will introduce anew style of doctrine, and will reform the whole Church: he builds upon the word of Christ; and no one in this world can either resist or overthrow that word, though it should be attacked with all the weapons of Philosophers, Sophists, Sco- tists, Albertists, and Thomists." 70 Staupitz, who was as the hand of Pro- 8 vidence to develope the gifts and treasures that lay hidden in Luther, invited him to preach in the church of the Augustines. The young professor shrunk from this proposal. He wished to confine himself to his academical duties; he trembled at the thought of adding to them those of public preaching. In vain Staupitz entreated him: "No, no," replied he, " it is no light thing to speak to men in God's stead." 71 An affecting instance of humi- lity in this great Reformer of the Church ! Staupitz persisted. " But the ingenious Lu- ther found," says one of his historians, " fif- teen arguments, pretexts or evasions, to excuse himself from this summons." At last the chief of the Augustines, still persevering in his application : "Ah, worthy doctor," said Luther, "it would be the death of me. I could not stand it three months." "And what then," replied the Vicar-general ; " in God's name so be it ; for in heaven also the Lord requires devoted and able servants." Luther was obliged to yield. In the middle of the square of Wittemberg stood an old wooden chapel, thirty feet long and twenty broad, whose walls, propped on all sides, were falling to ruins. A pulpit made of planks, raised three feet above the ground, received the preacher. It was in this chapel that the Reformation was first preach- ed. It was the will of God that this work for the restoration of his glory should have the humblest beginnings. The foundation of the church of the Augustines was only just laid, and till it should be completed they made use of this mean place of worship. "That building," adds the contemporary ot" Luther, who relates these circumstances, "may be aptly compared to the stable in which Christ was born. 72 It was in that enclo- sure that God willed, if we may so speak, that his well-beloved Son should be born a second time. Amongst the thousand cathe- drals and parish churches with which the world is filled, not one was chosen for the glorious announcement of everlasting life." Luther preached : every thing was striking in the new preacher. His expressive counte- nance and dignified demeanour, his clear and sonorous voice, charmed the audience. Before his time, the greater number of preachers had sought to amuse their hearers rather than to convert them. The deep seriousness that marked the preaching of Luther, and the joy with which the knowledge of the Gospel filled his own heart, gave to his eloquence an authority, energy, and unction, which none of his predecessors had possessed. " Gifted with a ready and lively intelligence," says one of his adversaries, 73 " having a retentive memory, and speaking his mother tongue with remarkable fluency, Luther was surpassed in loquence by none of his contemporaries. Addressing his hearers from his place in the pulpit, as if he had been agitated by some aowerful passion, and adapting his action to ;he words, he affected their minds in a surpris- ng manner, and carried them like a torrent whither he would. So much power, action, 52 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. and eloquence are rarely found amongst the people of the north." " He had," says Bossuet, " a lively and impetuous eloquence, which delighted and captivated his auditory". 74 In a short time the little chapel could no longer contain the crowds that flocked thither. The council of Wittemberg then chose Luther for their preacher, and called upon him to preach in the church of that city. The im- pression which he there produced was still greater. His wonderful genius, his eloquent style, and the excellency of the doctrines he proclaimed, equally astonished his auditors. His reputation spread far and wide, and Fre- deric the Wise himself came once to Wittem- berg to hear him. It was as if a new existence was opening for Luther. To the drowsiness of the cloister had succeeded a life of active exertion. Free- dom, employment, earnest and regular action completed the re-establishment of harmony and peace in his spirit. He was now at last in his proper place, and the work of God was about to open out its majestic course. Luther was continuing his teaching both in the hall of the academy and in the church, when he was interrupted in his labours. In 1510, or according to some, not till 1511 or 1512, he was despatched to Rome. A difference had arisen between seven convents of his order and the Vicar-general. 73 Luther's acuteness, eloquence, and talents in discussion led to his being chosen to represent these seven monas- teries. 76 This dispensation of divine Provi- dence was needed. It was fit that Luther should know what Rome was. Full of the prejudices and illusions of the cloister, he had always pictured it to himself as the seat of holiness. He set out; he crossed the Alps. But hard- ly had he descended into the plains of rich and voluptuous Italy than he found at every step matter of surprise and scandal. The poor German monk was entertained at a wealthy convent of the Benedictines, situate on the Po, in Lombardy. This convent enjoyed a revenue of thirty-six thousand ducats ; twelve thousand were spent for the table, twelve thousand on the buildings, and twelve thou- sand to supply the other wants of the monks. 77 The magnificence of the apartments, the rich- ness of the dresses, and the delicacy of the viands, astonished Luther. Marble, silk, and luxury of every kind; what a novel spectacle to the humble brother of the convent of Wit- temberg! He was amazed and silent; but Friday came, and what was his surprise ! The table of the Benedictines was spread with abundance of meats. Then he found courage to speak out. "The Church," said he, "and the Pope forbid such things." The Benedic- tines were offended at this rebuke from the unmannerly German. But Luther, having repeated his remark, and perhaps threatened to report their irregularity, some of them thought it easiest to get rid of their trouble- some guest. The porter of the convent hinted to him that he incurred danger by his stay He accordingly took his departure from this epicurean monastery, and pursued his journey to Bologna, where he fell sick. 78 Some have seen in this sickness the effects of poison. It is more probable that the change in his mode of living disordered the frugal monk of Wit- temberg, who had been used to subsist for the most part on dry bread and herrings. This sickness was not "unto death," but for the glory of God. His constitutional sadness and depression returned. What a fate was before him, to perish thus far away from Germany under a scorching sun, in a foreign land. The distress of mind he had experienced at Er- furth again oppressed him. A sense of his sins disturbed him ; and the prospect of the judgment of God filled him with dismay. But in the moment when his terror was at its height that word of Paul, " The just shall live by Failh" recurred with power to his thought, and beamed upon his soul like a ray from heaven. Raised and comforted, he rapidly regained health, and again set forth for Rome, expecting to find there a very different manner of life from that of the Lombard convents, and eager to efface, by the contemplation of Roman sanctity, the sad impression left upon his memory by his sojourn on the banks of the Po. At last, after a fatiguing journey under the burning sun of Italy, he approached the seven- hilled city. His heart was moved within him. His eyes longed to behold the queen of the earth and of the Church ! As soon as he dis- covered from a distance the Eternal City, the city of St. Peter and St. Paul, the metro- polis of the Catholic World, he threw himself on the earth, exclaiming, " Holy Rome, I salute thee !" Luther was now in Rome; the professor of Wittemberg was in the midst of the eloquent ruins of the Rome of Consuls and of Emperors, the Rome of Confessors of Christ and of Mar- trys. There had lived Plautus and Virgil, whose works he had carried with him into his cloister; and all those great men whose history had so often stirred his heart. He beheld their statues, and the ruined monuments which still attested their glory. But, all this glory and power had passed away. He trod under foot the dust of them. He called to mind, at every step he took, the melancholy presentiments of Scipio, when, shedding tears over the ruins of Carthage, its palaces in flames, and its walls broken down, he exclaimed : " // will one day be thus with Rome /" " And truly," said Lu- ther, "the Rome of Scipios and Caesars is but a corpse. There are such heaps of ruin that the foundations of the houses rest at this hour where once their roofs were. There," said he, turn- ing a melancholy look on its ruins, " there were once the riches and treasures of this world !" 79 All these fragments of wreck which his foot encountered whispered to Luther, with- in Rome herself, that what is strongest in the sight of men may be destroyed by the breath of the Lord. But with these profaner ruins were mixed holy ashes ; the thought of this came to his mind. The burial places of the martyrs are hard by those of Roman generals and con- HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 53 querors. Christian Rome, and her trials, had more power over the heart of the Saxon monk, than Pagan Rome with all her glory. In this very place arrived that epistle wherein Paul wrote, " the just shall live by faith." He is j not far from the forum of Appius and the Three Taverns. In that spot was the house of Nar- cissus ; here stood the palace of Caesar, where the Lord delivered the Apostle from the jaws of the lion. Oh, how did these recollections strengthen the heart of the monk of Wittem- berg! Rome then presented a widely different as- pect. The warlike Julius II. filled the ponti- fical chair, and not Leo X., as some distin- guished historians of Germany have said, doubtless for want of attention. Luther often related an incident of this Pope's life. When the news was brought him that hjs army had been defeated by the French before Ravenna, he was reading his prayers ; he threw the book on the floor, exclaiming, with a dreadful oath, " Well, now thou art become a Frenchman. Is it thus thou guardestthy church ]" Then, turning himself in the direction of the country to whose arms he thought to have recourse, he uttered these' words, "Holy Swiss, pray for us." 80 Ignorance, levity, and dissolute morals, a profane contempt of every thing sacred, and a shameful traffic in divine things ; such was the spectacle presented by this wretched city. Yet the pious monk continued for awhile in his illusions. Having arrived about the period of the fes- tival of St. John, he heard the Romans re- peating around him a proverb current among the people: "Blessed is that mother," said they, " whose son says mass on St. John's eve." Oh, thought Luther, how gladly would I make my mother blessed. The pious son of Margaret made some attempts to say mass on that day, but he could not, the crowd was too great. 81 Warm in his feeling, and confiding in dispo- sition, he visited all the churches and chapels, gave credit to all the marvellous stories there told him, went through with devotion the ob- servances required, and was pleased at being able to perform so many pious acts, from which his friends at home were debarred. " How do I regret," thought the pious monk, " that my father and mother are still living: how happy should I be to deliver them from the fire of purgatory by my masses, rny prayers, and other admirable works." 82 He had found the light; but the darkness was far from being wholly chased from his mind ; he had the faith and love of the Gospel, but not the knowledge of it. It was no easy matter to emerge from that deep gloom that had for so many ages overspread the earth. Luther said mass several times at Rome. He went through it with all the unction and dig- nity that such an act seemed to him to require. But how was the heart of the Saxon monk dis- tressed, when he saw the profane and heartless formality with which the Roman clergy cele brated this Sacrament ! The priests, on their part, laughed at his simplicity. One day, when he was officiating, he found that at the altar they had read seven masses while he was reading one. " Quick ! quick !" said one of the priests, "send Our Lady her Son back speedily;" thus impiously alluding to the transubstantiation of the bread into the body and blood of Christ. Another time Luther dad only got as far as the Gospel, when the priest who was at his side had already finish- ed the mass: "Make haste, make haste!" whispered the latter, "do have done with it." 83 His astonishment was still greater, when be found in the dignitaries of the Church, the same corruption he had observed in the infe- rior clergy. He had hoped better things of them. It was the fashion at the papal court to at- tack Christianity: and a person was not counted a man of sense, if he did not hold some eccentric and heretical opinion in rela- tion to the dogmas of the Church. 84 Some would have convinced Erasmus, by certain passages from Pliny, that there was no dif- ference between the souls of men and of beasts ; and there were young courtiers of the Pope, who affirmed that the orthodox faith was the growth of the cunning invention of the saints. Luther's office of envoy from the Augus- tines of Germany, procured him invitations to several meetings of distinguished ecclesi- astics. One day, in particular, he was at table with several prelates: the latter exhi- bited openly their buffoonery in manners and impious conversation; and did not scruple to give utterance before him to many indecent jokes, doubtless thinking him one like them- selves. They related, amongst other things, laughing, and priding themselves upon it, how when saying mass at the altar, instead of the sacramental words which were to trans- form the elements into the body and blood of the Saviour, they pronounced over the bread and wine these sarcastic words : " Bread thou art, and bread thou shalt remain ; wine thou art, and wine thou shalt remain Panis es et panis manebis ; vinum es et vinum manebis." " Then," continued they," " we elevate the pyx, and all the people worship." Luther could scarcely believe his ears. His mind, gifted with much vivacity, and even gayety, in the society of his friends, was remarkable for gravity when treating of serious things. These Romish mockeries shocked him. " I," says he, " was a serious and pious young monk ; such language deeply grieved me. If at Rome they speak thus openly at table, thought I, what, if their actions should cor- respond with their words, and popes, cardi- nals, and courtiers should thus say mass. And I, who have so often heard them recite it so devoutly, how, in that case, must I have been deceived?" Luther often mixed with the monks ana citizens of Rome. If some among them ex- tolled the Pope and the clergy, the greater number gave free vent to their complaints and sarcasms. What stories had they to tell of the reigning Pope, of Alexander VI., and of so many others ! One day, his Roman friends 54 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. related, how Caesar Borgia, having fled from Rome, had been taken in Spain. On the eve of trial, he prayed for mercy, and asked for a priest to visit him in his prison. They sent him a monk. He murdered him, disguised himself in his cowl, and effected his escape. "I heard that at Rome: it is a thing well known," says Luther. 85 Another day, passing along the principal street that led to St. Peter's church, he stopped in astonishment before a statue, representing a pope, under the figure of a woman holding a sceptre, clothed in the papal mantle, bearing a child in her arms. "It is a girl of Mentz," said the people, " who was chosen Pope by the Cardinals, and was delivered of a child on this spot : therefore no pope ever passes through this street." " I wonder," observed Luther, " that the popes allow the statue to remain." 86 Luther had expected to find the edifice of the church encompassed with splendour and strength; but its doors were broken in, and its walls consumed by fire. He saw the desolation of the sanctuary, and drew back in alarm. He had dreamed of sanctity ; he found nothing but profanation. He was not less struck with the disorders committed in the city. " The police is strict and severe in Rome," said he. " The judge, or captain rides through the city every night, with three hundred attendants. He stops all he finds in the streets ; if he meets an armed man, he hangs him or throws him into the Tiber. And yet the city is full of disorders and murders ; whilst, in places where the word of God is truly and faithfully preached, we see peace and order prevail, without the necessity for law or severity." 87 "It is in- credible what sins and atrocities are com- mitted in Rome," he says again ; " they must be seen and heard to be believed. So that it is usual to say: * If there be a hell, Rome is built above it; it is an abyss from whence all sins proceed.' " 88 This sight made at the time a great impres- sion on Luther's mind ; an impression which was afterwards deepened. " The nearer we approach to Rome, the greater number of bad Christians do we find," said he several years after. "It is commonly observed, that he who goes to Rome for the first time, goes to seek a knave there; the second time, he finds him ; and the third time, he brings him away with him under his cloak. But now, people are become so clever, that they make the three journeys in one." 89 One of the most profound geniuses of Italy, though of deplorable cele- brity, Macchiavelli, who was living at Flo- rence when Luther passed through that city to go to Rome, has made a similar remark : "The greatest symptom," said he, "of the approaching ruin of Christianity, (by which he meant the Roman Catholic religion,) is, that the nearer we approach the capital of Christendom, the less do we find of the Chris- tian spirit in the people. The scandalous example and the crimes of the court of Rome have caused Italy to lose every principle of pietr and every religious sentiment. We Italians," continues the great historian, "are principally indebted to the Church and to the priests, for having become impious and pro- fligate." 90 Luther felt, later in life, all the im- portance of this journey : " If any one would give me a hundred thousand florins," said he, "I would not have missed seeing Rome." 91 This journey was also of advantage to him in regard to learning. Like Reuchlin, Luther profited by his residence in Italy, to obtain a deeper understanding of the Holy Scriptures. He there took lessons in Hebrew from a cele- brated rabbin, named Elias Levita. He ac- quired partly at Rome the knowledge of that divine word under the assault of which Rome was doomed to fall. But this journey was above all of great importance to Luther in another respect. Not only was the veil withdrawn, and the sardonic laugh, the jesting incredulity, which lay con- cealed behind the Romish superstitions, re- vealed to the future Reformer : but also the living faith which God had implanted in him was then powerfully strengthened. We have seen how he had at first submitted to all the vain practices which the church en- joins in order to purchase the remission of sins. One day, in particular, wishing to ob- tain an indulgence promised by the Pope to any one who should ascend on his knees what is called Pilate's staircase, the poor Saxon monk was slowly climbing those steps which they told him had been miraculously trans- ported from Jerusalem to Rome. But whilst he was going through this meritorious work he thought he heard a voice like thunder speak- ing from the depth of his heart: " The just shall live by faith." These words, which already on two occasions had struck upon his ear as the voice of an angel of God, resounded instantaneously and powerfully within him. He started up in terror on the steps up which he had been crawling; he was horrified at himself; and, struck with shame for the de- gradation to which superstition had debased him, he fled from the scene of his folly. 92 This powerful text had a mysterious in- fluence on the life of Luther. It was a crea- tive word for the Reformer and for the Refor- mation. It was by means of that word that God then said : " Let there be light, and there was light." It is frequently necessary that a truth should be repeatedly presented to our minds, in order to produce its due effect. Luther had often studied the Epistle to the Romans, and yet never had justification by faith, as there taught, appeared so clear to him. He now understood that righteousness which alone can stand in the sight of God ; he was now partaker of that perfect obedience of Christ which God im- putes freely to the sinner as soon as he looks in humility to the God-man crucified. This was the decisive epoch in the inward life of Luther. That faith which had saved him from the fear of death became henceforward the 'soul of his theology; a strong hold in every I danger, giving power to his preaching and I strength to his charity, constituting a ground HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 55 of peace, a motive to service, and a consola- tion in life and death. But this great doctrine of a salvation which proceeds from God and not from man, was not merely the power of God unto salvation to Luther, it also became the power of God to reform the Church. It was the same weapon which the Apostle had once wielded, and now, after long disuse, it was drawn forth in its original brightness from the arsenal of Al- mighty God. At the moment when Luther started from his knees, transported with emo- tion at that word which St. Paul had address- ed to the inhabitants of Rome, the truth, hith- erto held captive and fettered in the Church, stood also up to fall no more. We must here quote his own words. " Though as a monk I was holy and irre- proachable," says he, " my conscience was still filled with trouble and torment. I could not endure the expression the righteous jus- tice of God. I did not love that just and holy Being who punishes sinners. I felt a secret anger against him; I hated him because, not satisfied with terrifying by his law, and by the miseries of life, poor creatures already ruined by original sin, he aggravated our suf- ferings by the Gospel. But when by the Spirit of God, I understood these words, when I learnt how the justification of the sinner pro- ceeds from God's mere mercy by the way of faith, 93 -then I felt myself born again as a new man, and I entered by an opened door into the very paradise of God. 94 From that hour I saw the precious and holy Scriptures with new eyes. I went through the whole Bible. I collected a multitude of passages which taught me what the work of God was. And as I had before heartily hated that expression, 'the righteous- ness of God,' I began from that time to value and to love it, as the sweetest and most consolato- ry truth. Truly this text of St. Paul was to me as the very gate of heaven." Hence it was, that, when he was called upon on some solemn occasions to confess this doctrine, it ever roused his enthusiasm and rough eloquence. "I see," said he in a critical moment, 95 "that the devil, by means of his teachers and doctors, is incessantly attack- ing this fundamental article, and that he can- not rest to cease from this object. Well, then, I, Doctor Martin Luther, an unworthy evan- gelist of our Lord Jesus Christ, do confess this article, ' that faith alone, without works, justifies in the sight of God, and I declare, that in spite of the emperor of the Romans, the emperor of the Turks, the emperor of the Tartars, the emperor of the Persians, the Pope, all the cardinals, bishops, priests, monks, nuns, kings, princes, nobles, all the world, and all the devils, it shall stand un- shaken forever! that if they will persist in opposing this truth, they will draw upon their heads the flames of hell. This is the true and holy gospel, and the declaration of me, Doctor Luther, according to the light given to me by the Holy Spirit There is no one," he continues, "who has died for our sins, but Jesus Christ the Son of God. I repeat it once more : let all the evil spirits of earth and hell foam and rage as they will, this is nevertheless true. And if Christ alone takes away sin, we can not do so by all our works. But good works follow redemption, as surely as fruit appears upon a living tree. This is our doc- trine, this the Holy Spirit teacheth, together with all holy Christian people. We hold it in God's name. Amen!" It was thus that Luther discovered what hitherto even the most illustrious teachers and reformers had overlooked. It was in Rome that God gave him this clear view of the fun- damental doctrine of Christianity. He had come to seek in that city of the Pontiffs, the solution of some difficulties concerning a mon- astic order; he brought back in his heart, that which was to emancipate the Church. Luther left Rome, and returned to Wittem- berg, full of grief and indignation. Turning away his eyes in disgust from the pontifical city, he directed them trustfully to the Holy Scriptures, and to that new life which the word of God seemed then to offer to the world. This word gained ground in his heart in pro- portion as the Church lost its hold upon him. He disengaged himself from the one to turn to the other. All the Reformation was com- prised in that change ; for it put God in the place the priest had usurped. Staupitz and the Elector did not lose sight of the monk they had called to the university of Wittemberg. It seems as if the Vicar-gene- ral had a presentiment of the work that was to be accomplished in the world, and that find- ing it too hard for him, he desired to urge Lu- ther to undertake it. Nothing is more re- markable, or perhaps more inexplicable, than the character of the man who was ever ready to impel the monk onward in the path to which God called him, and yet himself went and ended his days sadly in a convent. The preaching of the young professor had made an impression on the prince; lie admired the strength of his understanding, the power of his eloquence, and the excellence of the sub- jects that he handled. 96 The Elector and his friends, wishing to promote a man of such great promise, resolved to raise him to the distinction of doctor of divinity. Staupitz re- paired to the convent. He led Luther into the cloister garden, and there talking with him alone under a tree, which Luther after- wards took pleasure in pointing out to his dis- ciples, the venerable father said to him: 97 "My friend, you must now become Doctor of the Holy Scriptures." Luther drew back. The thought of this distinguished honour overcame him. " Seek one more worthy of it," said he ; "for my part, I cannot consent to it." The Vicar-general pressed the point. " The Lord has much to do in the Church, he requires just now young and vigorous doctors." " This was said perhaps jestingly," adds Melancthon, "yet the event corresponded to it, for usually many presages announce great revolutions." 98 There is no reason to suppos-e that Melancthon here speaks of prophecy, strictly so called 56 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. The last century, though remarkable for in- credulity, saw this exemplified : how many presages, without miracle, preceded the revo- lution at the close of that century ! " But I am weak and ailing ;" said Luther ; " I have not long to live. Look for a strong man." " The Lord has work in heaven as in earth ; dead or alive, God requires you." 99 "The Holy Spirit alone can make a doctor of divinity," loo excl aimed the monk, more and more overcome with fear. " Do as your con- vent desires," said Staupitz, " and what I your Vicar-general require you to do, for you have promised to obey us." "But think of my poverty," resumed the friar, " 1 having nothing wherewith to pay the expenses incident to such a promotion." " Do not make yourself uneasy about that," said his friend, "the prince is so kind as to take the charges upon him- self." Urged on all sides, Luther was obliged to submit. It was toward the summer of 1512, Luther set out for Leipsic to receive from the trea- surers of the Elector, the money requisite on his promotion. But, according to court cus- tom, the money did not arrive. Luther, be- coming impatient, wished to depart; but the obedience becoming the character of a monk restrained him. At last, on the 4th of Octo- ber, he received from Pfeffinger and John Doltzig, fifty florins. He gave them a re- ceipt, in which he assumed no other designa- tion than monk. " I, Martin," said he, " bro- ther of the order of the Eremites." 101 Luther hastened back to Wittemberg. Andrew Bodenstein of Carlstadt was at that time the Dean of the Faculty of Theology. Carlstadt is the name under which this doctor is best known. He was also called the A. B. C. Melancthon first gave him that name, alluding to the three initials of his name. Bodenstein acquired in his native country the first elements of education. He was of grave and sombre character perhaps inclined to jealousy, of unquiet temper, but very eager for learning, and gifted with great capacity. He visited several universities to enlarge his knowledge, and studied theology at Rome it- self. On his return from Italy to Germany, he established himself at Wittemberg, and there became doctor of theology. At this time, as he himself afterwards declared, he had not read the Holy Scriptures. 102 This trait gives a very just idea of what then constituted theology. Carlstadt, besides his functions as professor, was canon and archdeacon. This was the man who was one day to divide the Reformation. He then saw in Luther only an inferior; but the Augustine soon became an object of his jealousy. One day he remarked, " I will not be less distinguished than Luther." 103 Far from anticipating at this time the future greatness of the young professor, Carlstadt conferred on his destined lival the first degree of the university. On the 18th October, 1512, Luther was made licentiate in theology, and took the fol- , owing oath : " I swear to defend the truth of the Gospel with all my strength. " 104 The following day, Bodenstein solemnly delivered to him, in pre- sence of a numerous assembly, the insignia of Doctor in Theology. He was made Biblical Doctor, and not Doc- tor of Sentences, and was therefore specially bound to devote himself to the study of the Bible, instead of human traditions. Then it was, as he himself tells us, that he espoused his well-beloved and Holy Scriptures. 105 He promised to preach them faithfully, to teach, them in purity, to study them all his life, and to defend them so far as God should enable him, by disputation, and by writing against false teachers. 106 This solemn vow was to Luther his voca- tion as a Reformer. Binding upon his con- science the sacred obligation to investigate freely, and declare openly evangelical truth, that oath lifted the new made doctor above the narrow bounds to which his monastic vow might have restricted him. Called by the University, by his Sovereign, in the name of the Imperial Majesty, and of the Roman See itself, and bound before God, by the most sa- cred of oaths, he was from that time the in- trepid herald of the word of life. On that memorable day Luther was installed Cham- pion of the Bible. Therefore it is that this oath pledged to the Holy Scriptures may be regarded as one of the immediate causes of the revival of the Church. The infallible authority of the word of God was the first and fundamental princi- ple of the Reformation. Every reform in de- tail afterwards effected in doctrine, morals, church government, and public worship was but a consequence of this first principle. In these days we can hardly imagine the sensa- tion produced by this elementary truth, so simple, yet for ages neglected. A few men, of more enlarged discernment than the vulgar, alone foresaw its important consequences. Speedily the courageous voices of all the Re- formers proclaimed this powerful principle, at the sound of which the influence of Rome crumbled into the dust: " Christians receive no other doctrines than those which rest on the express words of Christ, the apostles and prophets. No man, nor any assembly of men, has power to prescribe new doctrines." The situation of Luther was changed. The call he had received became to the Reformer as one of those extraordinary commissions which the Lord intrusted to prophets under the old dispensation, and to apostles under the new. The solemn engagement he had con- tracted, made so profound an impression on his soul, that the recollection of this vow suf- ficed at a later period to comfort him in the midst of the greatest dangers and the rudest conflicts. And when he saw all Europe agi- tated and disturbed by the doctrine he had proclaimed, when the accusations of Rome, the reproaches of many pious men, and the doubts and fears of his own heart (so easily moved) might have caused him to falter, to fear, and fall into despondency, he called to i mind the oath he had taken, and remained HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 57 firm, tranquil, and rejoicing 1 . "I came for- ward," said he, "in a critical moment, and I put myself into the Lord's hands. Let his will be done. Who asked of him that he would make of me a teacher ? If he has made me such, let him support me ; or if he change his purpose, let him deprive me. This tribu- lation then does not intimidate me. I seek but one thing to have his favour in all he calls me to do in his work." Another time he said, " He who undertakes any thing without a di- vine call seeks his own glory. But I, Doctor Martin Luther, was constrained to become a doctor. The Papacy endeavoured to stop me in the discharge of my duty, but you see what has happened to it; and much worse shall yet befall it; they cannot defend themselves against me. By God's help I am resolved to press on, to force a passage through, and trample dragons and vipers under foot. This will begin in my lifetime, and finish after 1 am gone." 107 From the hour of this oath Luther no long- er sought the truth for himself alone, but for the Church. Still retaining his recollections of Rome, he perceived indistinctly before him a path in which he purposed to go forward with all the energy of his soul. The spiritual life which hitherto had grown up within him, be- gan to manifest itself in outward action. This was the third period of his progress. His en- trance into the convent had turned his thoughts towards God ; the knowledge of the remission of sins, and of the righteousness of faith, had delivered his soul from bondage. The oath he had now taken had given him that baptism by fire which constituted him the Reformer of the Church. The first adversaries he attacked were those celebrated schoolmen whom he had studied so deeply, and who then reigned supreme in every university. He accused them of Pela- gianism; boldly opposing Aristotle (the father of the school !) and Thomas Aquinas, he un- dertook to hurl them from the throne whence they exercised so commanding an influence, the one over philosophy, and the other over theology. l08 " Aristotle, Porphyry, the theologians of the Sentences," said he, writing to Lange, " these are the unprofitable study of this age. I de- sire nothing more ardently than to lay open before all eyes this false system, which has tricked the Church, by covering itself with a Greek mask; and to expose its worthlessness before the world." 109 In all his public disputa- tions he was accustomed to repeat "The writings of the Apostles and Prophets are more certain and sublime than all the sophisms and theology of the schools." Such language was new, but gradually people became familiar- ized with it; and about one year after this he was able exultingly to write, "God works amongst us ; our theology and St. Augustine make wonderful progress, and are already paramount in our university. Aristotle is on the wane, and already totters to his fall, which is near at hand and irreversible. The lectures on the Sentences are received with utter dis- taste. None can hope for hearers unless he profess the scriptural theology." 110 Happy the university where such testimony could be given ! At the same time that Luther attacked Aris- totle, he took part with Erasmus and Reuchlin against their enemies. He entered into cor- respondence with those great men and others of the learned, such as Pirckheimer, Mutian, Hiitten, who belonged more or less to the same party. He formed also at this period another friendship, which was yet more important in its influence on his after life. There was then at the court of the Elector a person remarkable for wisdom and candour. This was George Spalatin, a native of Spaltus, or Spalt, in the bishopric of Eichstadt. lie had been curate of the village of Hohenkirch, near the forests of Thuringia. He was after- wards chosen by Frederic the Wise as his secretary and chaplain, and private teacher of his nephew, John Frederic, heir of the electo- ral crown. Spalatin was a man of simple manners, in the midst of a court; timid in emergencies, and circumspect and prudent as his master; in contrasting with the energetic Luther, with whom he was in daily commu- nication. Like Staupitz, he was fitted rather for peaceable than for stirring times. Such men are necessary: they are like that soft covering in which we wrap jewels and chrys- tals, to protect them from injury in transport- ing them from place to place. They seem of no use, and yet without them the precious gems would be broken or lost. Spalatin was not capable of great actions, but he faithfully and noiselessly discharged the task assigned to him. m He was at first one of the principal aids of his master, in collecting those relics of the saints of which Frederic was long an amateur. But by slow degrees he, like his master, turned toward the truth. The faith which was then reappearing in the Church, did not so suddenly lay hold on him as on Luther, he was led on by more circuitous paths. He became the friend of Luther at the court, the agent through which matters of business were transacted between the Re- former and the Princes, the go-between of the Church and the state. The Elector honoured Spalatin with the closest intimacy, and in his journeys admitted him to share his carriage. 113 In other respects the air of the court was often oppressive to the worthy Spalatin, and affected him with deep sadness; he would have wished to leave all these honours, and again to become a simple pastor in the woods of Thuringia. But Luther comforted him, and persuaded him to remain at his post. Spalalin acquired general esteem. The princes and scholars of his age evinced the sincerest respect for him. Erasmus was accustomed to say, " The name of Spalatin is inscribed not only as one of my dearest friends, but of my most revered protectors, and that not on paper, but on my heart." 114 The affair of Reuchlin and the monks was then making much noise in Germany. The most pious persons often hesitated which side 58 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. to take, for the monks were bent upon destroy ing the Jewish books which contained blas- phemies against Christ. The Elector com- missioned his chaplain to consult the doctor of Wittemberg, whose reputation was con- siderable. Luther replied by letter, and it is the earliest of his letters to the court preacher. "What shall I say] these monks pretend to expel Beelzebub, but it is not by the finger of God. I never cease to complain and grieve at it. We Christians begin to be wise in things that are without, and senseless at home. 11 ^ There are, in all the public places of our Jerusalem, blasphemies a hundred times worse than those of the Jews, and in every corner of it spiritual idols. We ought in holy zeal to carry forth and destroy these enemies within. But we neglect what is most press- ing, and the devil himself persuades us to abandon our own concerns, while he hinders us from reforming what is amiss in others." Luther never lost himself in this quarrel. A living faith in Christ was that which especially filled his heart and life. " Within my heart," says he, "reigns alone, and must alone reign, faith in my Lord Jesus Christ, who alone is the beginning, the middle, and the end of the thoughts that occupy me day and night." 116 His hearers listened with admiration as he spoke from the professor's chair, or from the pulpit, of that faith in Christ. His instruc- tions diffused light. The people marvelled that they had not earlier acknowledged truths which appeared so evident in his mouth. "The desire to justify ourselves is the spring of all our distress of heart," said he; "but he who receives Christ as a SAVIOUR has peace, and not only peace, but purity of heart. All sanctification of the heart is a fruit of faith. For faith in us is a divine work which changes us, and gives us a new birth, ema- nating from God himself. It kills Mam in us; and, through the Holy Spirit which it communicates, it gives us a new heart and makes us new men. It is not by empty speculations," he again exclaims, "but by this practical method that we obtain a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ." 117 It was at this time that Luther preached on the Ten Commandments a series of discourses, which have been preserved to us under the name of Declamations for the People. Doubt- less they are not free from errors. Luther was only gradually gaining light: "The path of the just is as the shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day." But still what truth in these discourses! what simplicity ! what eloquence! how well can we conceive the effect that the new preacher would produce on his audience and oh his age. We will cite only one passage at the opening of his discourses. Luther ascended the pulpit of Wittemberg, and read these words: "Thou shall have no other gods than Me." Then turning to the people, who thronged the sanctuary, he said : "All the sons of Adam are idolaters, and j guilty transgressors of this first command-! ment." 1 ' 8 Doubtless this strange assertion startled his audience. He must justify it The speaker continued: "There are two kinds of idolatry ; the one in outward action, the other within our hearts. "The outward, by which man worships wood, stone, reptiles, or stars. "The inward, by which man, dreading chastisement, or seeking his own pleasure, renders no outward worship to the creature, but yet in his heart loves it and trusts in it. " But what kind of religion is this 1 you do not bend the knee before riches and honour, but you give them your heart. The noblest part of your nature. Alas ! with your bodies you worship God, and with your spirits the creature. "This idolatry pervades every man until he is freely recovered by faith that is in Jesus Christ. "And how is this recovery brought about? "In this way: Faith in Christ strips you of all confidence in your own wisdom, and righteousness, and strength ; it teaches you that if Christ had not died for you, and saved you by his death, neither you nor any created power could have done so. Then you begin to despise all these things which you see to be unavailing. 119 ! ' Nothing remains, but Jesus Jesus only; Jesus, abundantly sufficient for your soul. Hoping nothing from all created things, you have no dependence save on Christ, from whom you look for all, and whom you love above all. " But Jesus is the one sole and true God. When you have him for your God, you have no other gods." 120 It was thus that Luther pointed out how the soul is brought to God, its sovereign good by the Gospel ; agreeable to that declaration of Christ : " I am the way and no man cometh unto the Father but by me." The man who thus spoke to this generation was surely intent not merely on overturning some abuses; his aim, above all, was to esta- blish true religion. His work was not merely negative ; it was primarily positive. Luther then turned his discourse against the superstitions which filled Christendom; signs and mysterious omens ; observances of particular days and months ; familiar demons, phantoms, influences of the stars, incantations, metamorphoses, incubi and succubi; patro- nage of saints, &c. &c. &c. He attacked them all, one after the other, and with a strong arm cast down these false gods. But it was especially before the academy, before that youth, enlightened and eager for instruction, that Luther spread out the trea- sures of the word of God. " He so explained the Scriptures," says his illustrious friend Melancthon, "that, in the judgment of all pious and enlightened men, it was as if a new light had arisen on the doctrine after a long and dark night. He pointed out the differ- ence between the Law and the Gospel. He refuted that error then predominant in the Church and schools, that men by their own HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. works, obtain remission of sins, and are made righteous before God by an external disci- pline. He thus brought back the hearts of men to the Son of God. 121 Like John the Baptist, he pointed to the Lamb of God who has taken away the sins of the world. He explained that sin is freely pardoned on ac- count of God's Son, and that man receives this blessing through faith. He in no way interfered with the usual ceremonies. The established discipline had not in all his order a more faithful observer and defender. But he laboured more and more to make all under- stand the grand essential doctrines of Con- version; of the Forgiveness of Sins; of Faith; and of the true consolations of the Cross. Pious souls were attracted and penetrated by the sweetness of this doctrine ; the learned re- ceived it joyfully. 122 One might have said that Christ and his Apostles and Prophets had come forth from darkness or from some impure dungeon. 123 The firmness with which Luther appealed to and rested on the Gospel, gave great autho- rity to his teaching. But other circumstances added yet further to his power. With him, action corresponded with his words. It was known that these discourses were not merely the fruit of his lips. 124 They came from the heart, and were practised in his daily walk. And when, at a later period, the Reformation burst forth, many influential men who saw with grief the divisions of the Church, won before-hand by the holy life of the Reformer, and his remarkable genius, not only did not oppose him, but embraced the doctrine to which his life gave testimony. 125 The more men loved the Christian virtues, the more did they incline toward the Reformer; all the most upright divines were in favour of him. 126 This is what those who knew him, said of him, and especially the wisest man of his age, Melancthon, and Luther's celebrated op- ponent Erasmus. Envy and detraction have dared to talk of his dissolute life. Wittem- berg was changed by this preaching of Faith. This city became the focus of a light which was soon to illuminate Germany, and spread over the whole Church. Luther, whose heart was tender and affec- tionate, desired to see those whom he loved in possession of the light which had guided him in the paths of peace. He availed him- self of all the opportunities he possessed, as professor, teacher, and monk, as well as of his extensive correspondence, to communicate his treasure to others. One of his old asso- ciates of the convent of Erfurth, the monk George Spenlein, was then in the convent of Memmingen, having, perhaps, spent a short time at Wittemberg. Spenlein had commis- sioned Luther to sell some effects that he had left in his hands, a cloak of Brussels stuff, a work by the doctor Isenac, and a monk's hood. Luther carefully executed this commission. "He got," says he, "a florin for the cloak, half a florin for the book, and a florin for the hood," and had forwarded the amount to the Father Vicar, to whom Spenlein was indebted 9 the three florins. But Luther passed quickly from this account of a monk's effects to a more important subject. " I should like," says he to brother George, "to know how it is with your soul? Is it weary of its own righteousness 1 In a word does it breathe freely 1 and put its trust in the righteousness of Christ ] In these days, pride has drawn many aside, and especially those who labour with all their strength to be righ- teous. Not understanding the righteousness of God, which is given to us freely in Jesus Christ, they would stand before him on their own merits. But that can never be. When you and I were living together, you were under this delusion, and so was I.. I contend against it unceasingly, and I have not yet en- tirely overcome it." " Oh, my dear brother, learn to know Christ, and him crucified. Learn to sing anew song to despair of your own work, and to cry unto him, Lord Jesus, thou art my righteousness, and I am thy sin. Thou hast taken on thee what was mine, and given to me what is thine; 127 what thou wast not, thou becamest, that I might become what 1 was not. Beware, my dear George, of aspiring after such purity as that thou mayest not have to acknowledge thyself a sinner; for Christ dwells only with sinners. He came down from heaven, where he abode with the just, to dwell also with sinners. Meditate often on this love of Christ, and you will taste its unspeakable comfort. If our labours and afflictions could give peace to the conscience, why did Christ die upon the cross ? You will find peace in him alone; despairing of yourself and of your works, and beholding with what love he spreads his arms to you; taking all your sins on himself, and bestowing on you all his righteousness." Thus, the doctrine of power, which had already been the saving of the world in the days of the Apostles, and which was a second time to save it in the days of the Reformers, was set forth by Luther fearlessly and clearly. Reaching across many centuries of ignorance and superstition, he, in this, gave his hand to St. Paul. Spenlein was not the only one whom he sought to instruct in this fundamental doc- trine. The little of the truth he found on this subject in the writings of Erasmus distressed him. It was desirable to enlighten on this matter a man of such great authority arid such admirable genius. But how to do this. His friend at the court, the chaplain of the Elector, was much respected by Erasmus ; to him Luther addressed himself thus: "What displeases me in Erasmus, that man of rare erudition, is, that where the Apostle speaks of the righteousness of works and of the law, he understands the fulfilment of the ceremonial law. The righteousness of the law consists not alone in ceremonies, but in all the works of the Ten Commandments. When these works are done without faith in Christ, they may, it is true, make a Fabricius, a Regulus, or a man of perfect integrity in man's sight, but they, in that case, are as little entitled to F2 60 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION the name of righteousness, as the fruit of the medlar tree is entitled to be called a fig. For we do not become righteous, as Aristotle as- serts, by doing works of righteousness, but when we are righteous we do righteous works. It is necessary that the agent be changed, 128 and then the works by consequence. Abel was first acceptable to God, and then his sacrifice was accepted." Luther continues : "I entreat you, fulfil the duty of a friend and of a Chris- tian in pressing these things on Erasmus." This letter is dated "in great haste, from the corner of our convent, the 19th of October, 1516." It exhibits in its true light the rela- tion between Luther and Erasmus. It shows the sincere interest he took in what he thought really for the good of that illustrious writer. Doubtless at a later period Erasmus's opposi- tion to the truth obliged him to oppose him openly ; but he did so only after having sought to set his adversary right. The world, then, heard at length ideas at once clear and deep on the nature of that which is good. The principle was at last proclaimed, that what constitutes the real goodness of an action is not its outward cha- racter, but the spirit in which it is performed. This was aiming a death-blow at all the su- perstitious observances which had for centu- ries oppressed the Church, and prevented the Christian virtues from growing and prospering. "I read Erasmus," writes Luther elsewhere, " but he every day loses weight with me. I love to see him rebuke, with so much learning and firmness, the grovelling ignorance of the priests and monks ; but I fear he does no great service to the doctrine of Christ. What is of man, is nearer to his heart than what is of God. 129 We live in critical times. To make a good and judicious Christian, it is not enough to understand Greek and Hebrew. St. Jerome, who knew five languages, is inferior to St. Augustine, who understood but one; though Erasmus thinks the contrary. I carefully conceal my opinion of Erasmus, lest I should give an advantage to his adversaries. It may foe, that the Lord will give him understanding in his good time." 130 The inability of man, the almighty power of God, these were the two truths that Lu- ther sought to re-establish. That is but a melancholy religion, and a poor philosophy, which directs man to his own natural strength. Past acres have made trial of that strength; and whilst, in earthly things, man has attained admirable excellence, he has never been able to dissipate the darkness which hides God from his soul, or to change a single inclination to evil. The highest attainment in wisdom of the most aspiring minds, or of the souls most eager after perfection, has been to despair of themselves. 131 It is, therefore, a generous, consoling, and supremely true doctrine, which discovers to us our impotence, that it may de- clare a power of God by which we can do all things; and that is a noble Reformation which vindicates on earth the glory of heaven, and pleads before man the rights of the mighty God. But no one knew better than Luther the intimate connection that unites the free salva- tion which cometh of God, with the free works of man. No one showed better than he, that it is only in receiving all from Christ, that man gives freely to his brethren. He ever presented, in the same picture, these two procedures, that of God, and that of man. Thus, after having declared to Spenlein the righteousness which saves us, he added, "If thou firmly believest these things, as thou oughtest, (for cursed is he whosoever doth not believe them,) receive thine erring and igno- rant brethren as Jesus Christ hath received thee. Bear with them patiently ; make their sins your own; and if you have any good thing to communicate to them, do it. Receive you one another, said the Apostle, as Christ also hath received us, to the glory of God. It is a wretched righteousness which will not bear with others, because it deems them evil, and seeks the solitude of the desert, instead of doing good to such, by long-suffering, by prayer and example. If thou art the lily and the rose of Christ, know that thy dwelling- place is among thorns. Only take heed, lest, by impatience, rash judgments, and pride, thou thyself become a thorn. Christ reigns in the rnidst of his enemies. If he had desired to live only among the good, and die only for such as loved him, would he have died at all 1 and among whom would he have lived 1" It is affecting to see how Luther himself put in practice these precepts of charity. An Augustine of Erfurth, George Leiffer, was exposed to many trials. Luther heard of it, and a week after he wrote this letter, he went to him with expressions of compassion: "I hear," said he, " that you are driven about by many tempests, and that your soul is impelled hither and thither by the waves. The cross of Christ is divided over the earth, and each one has his share. Do not you refuse your portion; rather receive it as a holy relic ; not, indeed, into a gold or silver vase, but, what is much preferable, into a heart of gold a heart imbued with meekness. If the wood of the cross was so sanctified by the blood and body of Christ, that we deem it the most venerable of relics, how much more should we count as holy relics, the wrongs, persecutions, suffer- ings, and hatred of men, since they were not only touched by Christ's flesh, but embraced, kissed, and made blessed by his boundless love." 132 The teaching of Luther bore fruit. Many of his disciples felt themselves impelled to a public profession of the truths which their master's lessons had revealed to them. Among his hearers was a young scholar, Bernard of Feldkirchen, professor of Aristotelian physics in the university, and, five years later, the first of the ecclesiastics who entered into the marriage state. Luther desired Feldkirchen to maintain, un- der his presidence, theses, in which his princi- ples were set forth. The doctrines professed by Luther acquired by this means additional publicity. The disputation took place in 1516 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 61 This was Luther's first attack on the reign of the sophists and on the Papacy, as he says himself. Feeble as it was, it. cost him many misgiving-s. "I consent to the printing of these propositions," said he, many years after, when publishing them in his works, "chiefly that the greatness of rny cause, and the suc- cess with which God has crowned it, may not lift me up ; for they manifest abundantly my shame; that is to say, the infirmity and igno- rance, the fear and trembling, with which I began this contest. I was alone; I had thrown myself rashly into the affair. Not being able to draw back, I gave up to the Pope many important points ; I even worship- ped his authority." 133 The following were some of these proposi- tions : 134 " The old man is the vanity of vanities; he is the universal vanity, and he makes other creatures vain, whatever goodness may be in them. "The old man is called 'the flesh,' not merely because he is led by the desires of the flesh, but also because, though he should even be chaste, virtuous, and just, he is not born again of God, by the Spirit. "A man who is a stranger to the grace of God cannot keep the commandments of God, nor prepare himself, wholly or in part, to receive grace, but remains necessarily under sin. "The will of man, without divine grace, is not free, but enslaved, and willing to be so. "Jesus Christ, our strength, our righteous- ness, he who searches the heart and reins, is the only discerner and judge of our deserts. "Since all things are possible through Christ to him that believeth, it is superstitious to seek for other help, either in man's will or in the saints." 135 This disputation made a great noise, and it has been considered as the commencement of the Reformation. The moment drew nigh when that Reforma- tion was to burst forth. God hastened the preparation of the instrument he designed to use. The Elector, having built a new church at Wittemberg, and given it the name of All Saints, despatched Staupitz to the Low Coun- tries to collect relics to enrich the new temple. The Vicar-general commissioned Luther to take his place in his absence, and, in particu- lar, to make a visitation to forty monasteries of Misnia and Thuringia. Luther went first to Grimma, and thence to Dresden. Everywhere he endeavoured to establish the truths he had discovered, and to enlighten the members of his order. " Do not join yourself to Aristotle," said he to the monks, " or to the other teachers of a mis- leading philosophy, but apply yourselves to the reading of the word of God. Seek not your salvation in your own strength and good works, but in the merits of Christ, and in the grace of God." 136 An Augustine monk of Dresden had eloppd from his convent, and was residing at Mentz, where the prior of the Augustines had received him. Luther wrote to the prior, 137 desiring him to send back this stray sheep; and he added these words of truth and charity : " I know I know that it cannot be but that offences must come. It is no wonder wnen man falls, but it is a miracle when he rises and continues standing. Peter fell that he might know that he was a man. Even at this day we see cedars of Lebanon falling. The angels, even, (difficult as it is to conceive it,) fell in heaven, and Adam in Paradise. Why, then, should we wonder when a reed is shaken by the whirlwind, or a flickering taper is extin- guished." From Dresden, Luther repaired to Erfurth, and reappeared, to exercise the functions of Vicar-general in that same convent, where, eleven years before, he had wound up the clock, opened the gates, and swept the floor of the church. He placed in the post of prior of the convent, his friend the bachelor, John Lange, a man of learning and piety, but aus- tere in his disposition. Therefore it was he exhorted him to affability and patience. " Put on," said he, writing to him shortly after, " put on a spirit of meekness toward the prior of Nuremberg. It is proper that you should do so, since the prior has assumed a harsh and bitter tone. Bitterness is not expelled by bitterness, that is to say, the devil is not cast out by the devil; but the sweet over- comes and expels the bitter, in other words, the finger of God casts out devils." 138 Perhaps we may regret that Luther himself, on some occasions, forgot to follow these excellent directions. At Neustadt, on the Orla, there was nothing but disunion. Disturbances and dissensions reigned in the convent. The whole body of the monks were in open war with their prior. They beset Luther with their complaints. The prior, Michael Dressel, or Tornator, as Luther calls him, translating his name into Latin, enumerated to the Doctor all his grievances. " Oh, for peace 1" said the prior. "You seek peace," said Luther, "but it is only the peace of the world, and not the peace that is of Christ. Do you not know that our God has set his peace in the midst of opposi- tion"? He whom nobody disturbs has not peace, but he who, harassed by all men, and by the things of this life, bears all tranquilly and joyfully ; he it is that has the true peace. You cry, with Israel, peace, peace, when there is no peace. Say rather with Christ, the cross, the cross, and there will be no cross : for the cross ceases to be a cross when we can say with love : * O blessed cross ! there is no wood like thine!' " 139 On his return to Wit- temberg, Luther, desiring to put a stop to these dissensions, allowed the monks to elect an- other prior. Luther returned to Wittemberg after six weeks absence. What he had witness- ! ed saddened him; but his journey gave him a better knowledgeof the Church and of the world, and more confidence in his intercourse with mankind, beskies offering many opportunities of pressing the fundamental truth that. " Holy Scripture alone shows us the way to heaven," 62 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. and at the same time exhorting the brethren to live holily and at peace one with another. 140 Doubtless a plenteous seed was sown in the different Augustine convents during that jour- ney of the Reformer. The monastic orders, which had long been the support of Rome, did more, perhaps, for the Reformation than against it. This was especially true of the Augustines. Almost all the men of liberal and enlightened piety who were living in the cloisters, turned towards the Gospel. A new and generous blood seemed to circulate through these orders, which were as the arteries of the Catholic body in Germany. In public, little was as yet heard of the new ideas of the Au- gustine of Wittemberg ; while they were already the chief subject of conversation in chapters and monasteries. More than one cloister was, in this way, the nursery of the Reformers. When the great struggle came, pious and brave men came forth from their re- tirement and exchanged the solitude of monk- ish life for the active service of ministers of God's word. Even as early as this visit of inspection in 15 1G, Luther aroused by his words many a drowsy spirit. Hence that year has been named " the Morning Star of the Reformation." Luther now resumed his usual occupation. He was, at this period, overwhelmed with labour. Besides his duties as professor, preacher, and confessor, he was burdened with many temporal concerns of his order and con- vent. " I require almost continually," said he, " two secretaries ; for I do scarce any thing else all day long than write letters. I am preacher to the convent, reader of prayers at table, pastor and parish minister, director of studies, vicar of the priory, (that is to say, prior ten times over,) inspector of the fish- ponds of Litzkau, counsel to the inns of Herz- berg at Torgau, lecturer on St. Paul, and commentator on the Psalms. Seldom have I time to say my prayers, or to sing a hymn; not to mention my struggle with flesh and blood, the devil and the world. See what an idle man I am !" 141 About this time the plague showed itself at Wittemberg. A great number of the students and doctors quitted the town. Luther re- mained. " I do not very well know," wrote he to his friend at Erfurth, "whether the plague will suffer me to finish the Epistle to the Galatians. Quick and sudden in its at- tacks, it makes great havoc, especially among the young. You advise me to flee but whi- ther shall I flee 1 I hope the world will not go to pieces if brother Martin should fall. 142 If the plague spreads, I will send the brethren away in all directions, but for my part I am placed here ; obedience does not allow me to leave the spot until He who called me hither shall call me away. Not that I am above the fear of death, (for I arn not the Apostle Paul, but only his commentator,) but I trust the Lord will deliver me from the fear of it." Such was the firm resolution of the Doctor of Wittemberg. He whom the plague could not force to retire a single step, would he draw back from fear of Rome 1 would he recede in the prospect of the scaffold ? The same courage that Luther evinced in presence of the most formidable evils, he ma- nifested before the great ones of the world. The Elector was well satisfied with the Vicar- general. He had reaped a rich harvest of relics in the Low Countries. Luther gave an account of it to Spalatin. This affair of the relics is singular enough, occurring as it did at the moment when the Reformation was about to open. Assuredly the Reformers did not see clearly whither they were tending. The Elector deemed that nothing less than a bishopric was a reward commensurate with the services of the Vicar-general. Luther, to whom Spalatin wrote on the subject, highly disapproved the suggestion. "There are many things," answered he, " that are pleas- ing to your prince, which yet displease God. I do not deny that he is skilled in the concerns of the world, but in what relates to God and the salvation of souls, I consider him alto- gether blind, as well as his adviser Pfeffinger. I do not say that behind his back, like a ca- lumniator; I do not conceal my opinion from them; for I am at all times ready myself to tell them both so to their faces. Why will you," continued he, " seek to surround that man (Staupitz) with all the heavings and tempests of episcopal cares I" 143 The Elector did not take amiss the frank- ness of Luther. "The prince," wrote Spa- latin, "often speaks of you in honourable terms." Frederic sent the monk some stuff for a gown. It was of very fine cloth. " It would be too fine," said Luther, " if it were not a prince's gift. I am not worthy that any man should think of me, much less a prince, and so noble a prince. Those are most use- ful to me who think worst of me. 144 Present my thanks to our Prince for his favour, but know that I desire neither the praise of thy- self nor of others ; all of the praise of man is vain, the praise that cometh of God being alone true." The worthy chaplain would not confine himself to his functions at the court. He wished to make himself useful to the people, but, like many others in all ages, he wished to do it without offence, without irritating any one, and so as to conciliate general favour. " Point out to me," said he, in a letter to Luther, " some writing to translate, but one that shall give general satisfaction, and at the same time be useful !" " Agreeable and use- ful," replied Luther, " that is beyond my skill. The better things are, the less they please. What is more salutary than Christ] and yet he is to most a savour of death. You will say that what you intend is to be useful to those who love Christ; then cause them to hear his voice; you will thus be agreeable and useful never doubt it but to a small number, for the sheep are but rare in this dreary region of wolves." 145 Luther, however, recommended to his friend the sermons of Tauler the Dominican. " I never saw," said he, " either in Latin or in HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. our language, a theology more sound or more conformable to the Gospel. Taste them and see how gracious the Lord is, but not till you have first tasted and experienced how bitter is every thing in ourselves/' 146 It was in the course of the year 1517 that Luther became connected with Duke George of Saxony. The house of Saxony had at that time two chiefs. Two princes, Ernest and Albert, carried off in their childhood from the castle of Altenburg, by Kunz of Kau- fungen, had by the treaty of Leipsic been ac- knowledged as the founders of the two houses which still bear their names. The Elector Frederic, son of Ernest, was at the period we are recording, the head of the Ernestine branch, as his cousin Duke George was head of the Albertine branch. Dresden and Leipsic were situated in the states of this duke, and he him- self resided in the former of these cities. His mother, Sidonia, was daughter of the King of Bohemia, George Podibrad. The long strug- gle which Bohemia had maintained with Rome, since the time of John Huss, had had some influence on the Prince of Saxony. He had often manifested a desire of a Reformation. " He sucked it with his mother's milk," said they ; " he is, by his nature, an enemy to the clergy." 147 He annoyed, in many ways, the bishops, abbots, canons, and monks ; and his cousin, the Elector Frederic, often had to in- terpose in their behalf. It must have seemed that Duke George would be the warmest pa- tron of a Reformation. The devout Frederic, on the contrary, who had in early life assumed, in the holy sepulchre, the spurs of Godfrey, and armed himself with the long and heavy sword of the conqueror of Jerusalem, making oath to fight for the Church, like that valiant knight, seemed marked out to be. the most ar- dent champion of Rome. But in what pertains to the Gospel, all the calculations of human wisdom arc often deceived. The very reverse ensued. The Duke would have taken plea- sure in bringing down the Church and the clergy, in humbling the bishops, whose prince- ly retinue much exceeded his own; but to receive into his heart the doctrine of the Gos- pel, which was to humble him, to confess himself a guilty sinner, incapable of being saved except by grace, was quite another thing. He would have willingly reformed others, but he had no idea of reforming him- self. He would perhaps have put his hand to the work to oblige the Bishop of Mentz to limit himself to one bishopric, and to have only fourteen horses in his stables, as he said more than once; 148 but when he saw one alto- gether unlike himself appear as the Reformer, when he beheld a plain monk undertake this work, and the Reformation gaining ground among the people, the proud grandson of the Hussite King became the most violent adversary of the reform to which he had shown himself favourable. In the month of July, 1517, Duke George requested Staupitz to send him a learned and eloquent preacher. Staupitz sent Luther, re- commending him as a man of great learning and irreproachable conduct. The prince in- vited him to preach at Dresden in the chapel of the castle on St. James the Elder's day. The day came. The Duke and his court repaired to the chapel to hear the preacher from Wittemberg. Luther seized with joy the opportunity of giving his testimony to the truth before such an assembly. He chose as his text the gospel of the day: "Then the mother of Zebedee's children came to him with her sons," &c. (Mat. xx. 20.) He preached on the desires and unreasonable prayers of men, and then proceeded to speak with energy on the assurance of salvation. He rested it on this foundation; that they who hear the word of God and believe it, are the true disciples of Christ, elect unto eternal life. Then he spoke of free election: he showed that his doctrine, viewed in connection with Christ's work, has power to dispel the terrors of conscience, so that men, instead of fleeing far from the Holy God, in the consci- ousness of their unworthiness, are brought by grace to seek refuge in Him. In conclusion, he related a story of three virgins, from which he deduced edifying instructions. The word of truth made a profound im- pression on the hearers. Two of them, espe- cially, seemed to pay particular attention to the sermon of the monk of Wittemberg. The first was a lady of respectable appearance, seated on the benches of the court, and on whose features might be traced a deep emo- tion. This was Madame de la Sale, lady of the bed-chamber to the Duchess. The other was Jerome Emser, licentiate of canon law, and secretary and counsellor to the duke. Emser was gifted with talents and extensive acquirements. A courtier, a skilful politician, he would have wished at once to satisfy two opposite parties, to pass at Rome as a de- fender of the Papacy, arid at the same time shine among the learned men of Germany. But beneath this dexterous policy lay hid much violence of character. It was the cha- pel of the castle of Dresden that was the scene of the first meeting of Luther and Emser, who were destined afterwards to break more than one lance together. The dinner hour sounded in the castle, and soon the ducal family and the different per- sons of the court were assembled round the table. The conversation naturally turned on the morning preacher. "How did you like the sermon]" said the Duke to Madame de la Sale. " If I could but hear one other such sermon," answered she, "I would die in peace." "And I," replied Duke George angrily, "would give something not to have heard it ; for such sermons are good for no- thing, and serve only to encourage men in sin." The master having thus made known his opinion, the courtiers gave vent to their dis- satisfaction. Each was ready with his re- mark. Some asserted that in Luther's story of the three virgins, he had in his eye three ladies of the court; hereupon much talk and whispering ensued. The three ladies were 64 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. rallied on the circumstance of the monk of Wittemberg, having, as they said, publicly pointed them out. 149 " He is an ignorant fel- low," said some. " A proud monk !" said others. Each one criticised the sermon in his own manner, and made the preacher say what he pleased. The truth had fallen in the midst of a court little prepared to receive it. Every one mangled it at his will. But whilst the word of God was thus to some an occasion of falling, it was to the lady of the bed-cham- ber a corner-stone of edification. One month afterwards, she fell sick, embraced with con- fidence the grace of the Saviour, and died with joy. 150 As to the Duke, it was not perhaps in vain that he heard this testimony to the truth. Whatever had been his opposition to the Re- formation during his life, he is known to have declared on his death-bed that he had no other hope than in the merits of Christ. It w r as a matter of course that Eraser should do the honours to Luther in the name of his master. He invited him to supper. Luther declined. But Eraser pressed him until he assented. Luther expected to meet only a few friends, but he soon saw it was a trap laid for him. 151 A master of arts of Leipsic and several Dominicans were with the Prince's secretary. The master of arts, full of confi- dence in himself, and of hatred against Luther, accosted him with a friendly and gentle air, but soon lost his temper, and talked loudly. 152 The debate was opened. The discussion turn- ed, says Luther, on the solemn trifling of Aristotle and St. Thomas. 153 In conclusion, Luther challenged the master of arts to define, with all the learning of the Thomists, in what obedience to God's commandments consisted. The master of arts, though puzzled, put a good face upon it. " Pay me my fees first," said he, holding out his hand, "Da pastum" as though he were called on to give a formal lec- ture^treating the guests as his scholars. " At this ridiculous reply," adds the Reformer, " we all laughed outright, and hereupon we sepa- rated." During this conversation, a Dominican had listened at the door. He wanted to enter that he might spit in Luther's face. 154 He, however, restrained himself; but publicly boasted of it afterwards. Eraser, delighted to see his guests contending with each other, while he himself appeared to maintain a guarded medium, took pains to excuse himself to Luther on the in- cident of the evening. 155 The latter returned to Wittemberg. He again applied himself laboriously to work. He was preparing six or seven young divines, who were about to undergo examina- tion for license to teach. What most pleased him was, that their promotion would contri- bute to the downfal of Aristotle. '* I would lose no time," said he, " in adding to the num- ber of his opponents." 156 And with this object, he, about that time, published some theses which deserve our attention. The Freedom of the Will was his high sub- ject. He had already slightly touched on it in the theses of Feldkirchen; he now went more fully into the question. Ever since the promulgation of Christianity, a controversy has been carried on, with more or less keen- ness, between the two doctrines of the liberty and the bondage of the human will. Certain scholastic writers, as Pelagius, and others, hnd taught that man possessed, from his own nature, a freedom of will, or the power of loving God and doing righteousness. Luther denied this doctrine; not in order to deprive man of liberty, but that he might lead him to obtain it. The point of dispute, then, is not, as has been commonly said, between liberty and slavery ; it is between a liberty proceed- ing from man's nature, and a liberty that cometh of God. The one party, who call themselves the advocates of liberty, say to man : " Thou hast the power to do right, thou hast no need of more, liberty !" the others, who have been styled the partisans of slavery, say to him the very reverse: "True liberty is what thou needest, and it is what God of- fers to thee in the Gospel." On the one side, they talk of liberty so as to perpetuate servi- tude ; on the other, they proclaim to us our bondage that we may obtain liberty. Such has been the contest in St. Paul's time; in the days of St. Augustine ; and, again, in those of Luther. The one party, congratulat- ing man on his freedom, would, in effect, re- concile him to slavery; the other, showing how his fetters may be struck off, are the true advocates of liberty. But we should be deceiving ourselves, if we are to sum up, in this question, the whole of the Reformation. It is one, and only one, of many doctrines that the professor of Wittem- berg contended for. It would, especially, be a strange error to assert, that the Reformation was a fatalism, an opposition to the notion of human liberty. It was a noble emancipa- tion of the mind of man. Bursting the many cords with which the hierarchy had tied down the thoughts of men, restoring the ideas of liberty, of right of free investigation, it liberated its own age, ourselves, and the re- motest posterity. And let none say : " True, the Reformation did liberate man from all human despotism; but at the same time, re- duced him to slavery in other things, by pro- claiming the sovereignty of grace." Doubt- less, its aim was to bring the human will into harmony with the divine will, to subject the former absolutely to the latter, and to blend them together. But where is the philosopher who does not know, that perfect conformity to the will of God is the sole, sovereign, and complete liberty ; and that man will never be truly free, until perfect righteousness and un- changing truth reign unrivalled in his heart and mind 1 The following are a few of the ninety-nine propositions which Luther put forth in the church, against the Pelagian rationalism of the scholastic theology : " It is true that man, who is become * a bad tree,' can but will and do what is evil. HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 65 "It is false that the will, left to itself, can do good as well as evil ; for it is not free, but led captive. " It is not in the power of man's will to purpose or not purpose all that is suggested to him. " Man, by nature, cannot wish that God should be God. He would prefer that him- self should be God, and that God should not be God. " The excellent, infallible, and sole prepa- ration for grace, is the election and the ever- lasting predestination of God. 157 " It is false to say, that man, if he does all in his power, dissipates the obstacles to divine grace. "In one word, nature possesses neither a pure reason nor a good will. 158 " On man's part, there is nothing that goes before grace, nothing but impotency and re- bellion. " There is no moral virtue without pride or sadness, that is to say, without sin. " From first to last, we are not the masters of our actions, but their slaves. " We do not become righteous by doing that Which is righteous; but having become righ- teous, we do that which is righteous. "He who says a theologian unacquainted with logic is a heretic and empiric, makes an empirical and heretical assertion. " There is no form of reasoning or syllogism suited to the things of God. 159 " If the syllogistic method were applicable to divine things, the doctrine of the Holy Trinity would be known and not believed. " In a word, Aristotle is to theology as dark- ness to light. " Man is more opposed to the grace of God than to the law itself. " He who is destitute of the grace of God sins incessantly, though he should neither kill, nor steal, nor commit adultery. " He sins, because he does not fulfil the law spiritually. " It is the righteousness of hypocrites not to kill, and not to commit adultery in outward acts. " The law of God and the will of man are two opposites, which, without the grace of God, cannot be made to meet. 160 "What the law prescribes the will never seeks, unless, from fear or interest, it effects to seek it. "The law is a task-master of our will, which is not brought into obedience, save only by the young child born unto us. 161 (Isa. ix. 6.) " The law makes sin to abound, for it irritates and repels the will. " But the grace of God makes righteous- ness to abound 'by Jesus Christ;' who leads us to love the law. " All the works cf the law seem fair with- out, but are sin within. "The will, when it turns towards the law, without the grace of God, does so only for its own self-pleasing. "They are still under the curse who do the works of the law. ; ' Blessed are all they who do works of the grace of God. "The law which is good, and in which we have life, is the love of God shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost. " Grace is not given, that works may be done oftener or easier; but because, without grace, no work of love can be done. "To love God is to abhor ourselves, and to have nothing out of God." 162 Thus, Luther attributes to God all good that man can do. It is not enough to repair and patch up, if we may so speak, man's will ; an entirely new will must be given him. God only could have said this; because God only could accomplish it. This is one of the greatest and most important truths that the human mind can receive. But Luther, while proclaiming the impo- tence of man, did not fall into a contrary extreme to that he opposed. He says, in his 8th thesis: "It does not follow, from this- statement, that the will is in its nature bad : that is, that its nature is that of evil itself, as the Manicheans have asserted." 163 The nature of man was at first essentially good : it has turned aside from good, that is, from God, and inclined to evil. Still its holy and glorious origin remains, and it may, by the power of God, be restored and renewed. The office of Christianity is thus to restore it. It is true, the Gospel represents man in a condition of humiliation and impotence, but between two states of glory and of grandeur a past glory, from which he has been hurled, and a future glory, to which he is called. That is the real truth : man knows it, and on the slightest consideration, he perceives that all that is said of his present purity, power, and glory, is nothing but a fiction designed to lull and soothe his pride. Luther, in his theses, protested not only against the pretended goodness of man's will, but also against the asserted illumination of his understanding in regard to divine things. The schoolmen had exalted human reason as well as man's will. This theology, as it had been represented by some of its teachers, was at the bottom a kind of rationalism. The propositions that we have quoted, show this. We might suppose them directed against the rationalism of our day. In the theses which were the signal of the Reformation, Luther censured the Church and the popular supersti- tions which had overloaded the Gospel with indulgences, purgatory, and so many other abuses. In the theses we have now quoted, he attacked the schools and the rationalism which had retrenched from the Gospel the doctrine of God's sovereign grace. The Re- formation turned against rationalism before it attacked superstition. It proclaimed the rights of God before it lopped off the excrescences of man. It was positive before it was negative. This has not been sufficiently ad- verted to, and yet, if we do not keep it in mind, it is impossible to appreciate this reli- gious revolution and its true nature. However this may be, the truths that 66 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. Luther had just expressed with so much energy, were quite new to his hearers. To maintain these theses at Wittemberg woulc have been an easy thing. His influence pre- vailed there. It might have been said that he was choosing- a field in which he knew no antagonist could oppose him. By offering battle in another university, he was giving them a wider publicity; and it was through publicity that the Reformation was to be effected. He chose Erfurth, whose divines had shown themselves so offended with him. He therefore sent these theses to John Lange, prior of Erfurth, and wrote to him thus: "My anxiety to know your mind on these paradoxes is great, perhaps extreme. 1 strongly suspect that your theologians will consider as paradox, and even as cacodox, that which I mustalways consider very orthodox. 164 Tell me, therefore, your opinion, as soon as you can. Pray inform the faculty of theology, and all others, that I am ready to come among you, and publicly maintain these propositions, either in the University or in the monastery." It does not appear that Luther's challenge ws accepted. The monks of Erfurth contented themselves with letting him know that these theses had greatly displeased them. But he determined to send them into another part of Germany. He turned his eyes, for that purpose, on one who played a remarka- ble part in the history of the Reformation, and whose character it is necessary we should un- derstand. John Meyer, a distinguished professor, was then teaching at the University of Ingolstadt, in Bavaria. He was a native of Eck, a vil- lage of Suabia, and was commonly called Doc- tor Eck. He was a friend of Luther, who highly esteemed his talents and information. He was full of intelligence, well read, and gifted with an extraordinary memory. To his learning he united eloquence. His action and voice expressed the liveliness of his genius. Eck was, as to talent, in southern Germany, what Luther was in the north. They were the two most distinguished theologians of that period, though differing widely in their ten- dency, as the sequel showed. Ingolstadt almost rivalled Wittemberg. The reputation of the two Doctors drew from all sides to their respective universities a crowd of students eager to listen to their lectures. Their person- al qualities, not less than their learning, en- deared them to their scholars. The character of Eck has been censured. An incident of his life will show, that, at this period at least, his heart was not closed against generous im- pulses. Among the students, whom his reputation had attracted to Ingolstadt, was a young man named Urban Regius, born on the banks of one of the Swiss lakes. He had studied first at the University of Friburg in Brisgau. Ar- riving at Ingolstadt, whither the reputation of Eck had attracted him, Urban there attended courses of philosophy, and won the doctor's favour. Obliged to provide for his own ne- cessities, he found himself compelled to take charge of the education of some young nobles. He was not only to overlook their conduct and studies, but himself to buy for them the books and clothes they needed. These youths were accustomed to dress well and live ex- pensively. Regius, uneasy at this, requested the parents to remove their sons. "Take courage," answered they. His debts in- creased, his creditors became clamorous, he knew not what would become of him. The Emperor was then collecting an army against the Turks. Some recruiting parties arrived at Ingolstadt. In his desperation Urban en- listed. He appeared in the ranks in military garb, at a review preparatory to marching. Just then, Doctor Eck arrived in the square with some of his colleagues. To his great surprise, he recognised his student in the midst of the recruits. "Urban Regius!" said he, approaching him, and fixing on him a scrutinizing eye. "I am here!" said the conscript. " What, I pray you, is the cause of this change 1" The young man told his story. " I will settle the affair," answered Eck. He then proceeded to take away his halberd, and bought his discharge from the recruiting officers. The parents, threatened by the Doc- tor with the displeasure of their prince, sent the necessary funds for their children's ex- penditure. Urban Regius was preserved, to become at a later period one of the supporters of the Reformation. It was Doctor Eck that Luther pitched on to make known in the southern states his theses on Pelagianism and the Rationalism of the schools. He did not, however, send them, direct to the Professor of Ingolstadt, but ad- dressed them to their common friend, the wor- thy Christopher Scheurl, town-clerk of the ity of Nuremberg, requesting him to forward them to Eck, at Ingolstadt, which was not far from Nuremberg. " I send you," said he, " my propositions, (merely paradoxical, or even kakisiodoxical as they seem to many;) communicate them to our dear Eck, that learn- d and sagacious man, that I may know what tie thinks of them." 165 It was thus Luther then poke of Doctor Eck ; such was the friendship which united them. Luther was not the first to break off this good understanding. But the combat was not to be fought on that field. These theses turned, it may be thought, on doctrines of higher importance than those which, two months after, set the whole Church in a flame. And yet, notwith- standing Luther's challenge, they passed un- noticed. They were read, at the most in the >recincts of the school, and they made no sen- sation beyond its bounds. The reason of this was, that they contained only academic propo- sitions, and theological doctrines ; whilst the heses which followed had immediate refer- ence to an evil which had grown up in the midst of the people, and overflowed Germany on all sides. So long as Luther confined him- self to bringing forth long-forgotten doctrine, no response was heard. When he pointed to he abuses which offended all minds, every >ne gave ear. HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 67 Nevertheless, Luther, in both cases, did but design to raise one of those theological discussions then frequent in the University. His ideas did not range beyond that circle. He had no thought of becoming a Reformer. He had a low opinion of his own powers, and his humility even amounted to mistrust and anxiety, " I deserve, such is my ignorance," said he, " nothing better than to be hidden in a corner unknown to every one." 166 But a powerful hand drew him forth from this cor- ner, where he would have wished to remaia unknown to the world. An occurrence, which did not depend on Luther's will, threw him on the field of battle, and the conflict began. It is this providential circumstance that the pro- gress of events calls on us to narrate. BOOK III. THE INDULGENCES AND THE THESES. 15171518. Tetzel Confessions The Sale Penance Letter of Indulgence Relaxations A Soul in Pur- gatory The Shoemaker of Hagenau Myconius A Stratagem Opinions of the People The Miser of Schneeberg Leo X. Albert Farming Indulgences Franciscans and Dominicans Confession A Calumny Refuted Luther's Sermon The Dream Theses Letter to Albert Efforts for Reform The Bishops Spread of the Theses Reception of the Theses Effects of the Theses Myconius Apprehension Opposers at Wittemberg Luther's Answer Dejec- tion of Luther Motives Tetzel's Attack Luther's Answer Luther's Boldness Luther and Spalatin Study of the Scriptures Scheurl and Luther Albert Durer Tetzel's Reply Dispu- tation at Frankfort Tetzel's Theses Luther's Theses Burned Outcry of the Monks' Luther's Composure Tetzel's Theses Burned The higher Clergy Prierias The Romish System The Disciple of the Bible The Doctrine of the Reformation Luther's Reply to Prierias Hochstraten Doctor Eck The " Obelisks" The '" Asterisks" Scheurl Attempts Reconciliation Luther's Tracts " Who art in Heaven" " Our Daily Bread" " Remission of Sins" Effects of Luther's Teaching Luther's Journey The Palatine Castle The " Para- doxes" The Disputation Its Results Bucer Brentz The Gospel of Heidelburg Effect on Luther The Old Professor Return to Wittemberg. A GREAT agitation reigned, at that time, among the people of Germany. The Church had opened a vast market on the earth. Judg- ing from the crowd of buyers, and the noise and jests of the dealers, we might call it a fair; but a fair held by monks. The mer- chandise they extolled, offering it at a re- duced price, was, said they, the salvation of souls ! The dealers passed through the country in a gay carriage, escorted by three horsemen, in great state, and spending freely. One might have thought it some dignitary on a royal pro- gress, with his attendants and officers, and not a common dealer, or a begging monk. When the procession approached a tow'n, a messenger waited on the magistrate : " The grace of God, and of the Holy Father, is at your gates :" said the envoy. Instantly every thing was in motion in the place. The clergy, the priests, the nuns, the council, the school- masters, the trades, with their flags, men and women, young and old, went forth to meet the merchants, with lighted tapers in their hands, advancing to the sound of mu- sic, and of all the bells of the place ; " so that," says an historian, "they could not have given a grander welcome to God him- self." Salutations being exchanged, the whole procession moved toward the church. The pontiff's bull of grace was borne in front, on a velvet cushion, or on cloth of gold. The chief vendor of indulgences followed, sup- porting a large red wooden cross; and the 10 whole procession moved in this manner, amidst singing, prayers, and the smoke of in- cense. The sound of organs, and a concert of instruments, received the monkish dealer and his attendants into the church. The cross he bore with him was erected in front of the altar: on it was hung the Pope's arms; and, as long as it remained there, the clergy of the place, the penitentiaries, and the sub-commis- sioners, with white wands in their hands, came every day after vespers, or before the salutation, to do homage to it. 1 This great bustle excited a lively sensation in the quiet towns of Germany. One person in particular drew the attention of the spectators in these sales. It was he who bore the great red cross and had the most prominent part assigned to him. He was clothed in the habit of the Dominicans, and his port was lofty. His voice was sonorous, and he seemed yet in the prime of his strength, though he was past his sixty-third year. 2 This man, who was the son of a goldsmith of Leip- sic, named Diez, bore the name of John Diezel or Tetzel. He had studied in his native town, had taken his bachelor's degree in 1487, and entered two years later into the order of the Dominicans. Numerous honours had been accumulated on him. Bachelor of Theology, Prior of the Dominicans, Apostolical Com- missioner, Inquisitor, (hereficas pravitatis in- quisitor,} he had ever since the year 1502, filled the office of an agent for the sale of in- dulgences. The experience he had acquired G HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. as a subordinate functionary had very early raised him to the station of chief commissioner. He had an allowance of 80 florins per month, all his expenses defrayed, and he was allowed a carriage and three horses; hut we may rea- dily imagine that his indirect emoluments far exceeded his allowances. In 1507, he gained in two days at Freyberg 2000 florins. If his occupation resembled that of a mountebank, he had also the morals of one. Convicted at Inspruck of adultery and abominable profli- gacy, he was near paying the forfeit of his life. The Emperor Maximilian had ordered that he should be put into a sack and thrown into the river. The Elector Frederic of Saxony had interceded for him, and obtained his par- don. 3 But the lesson he had received had not taught him more decency. He carried about with him two of his children. Miltitz, the Pope's legate, cites the fact in one of his let- ters. 4 It would have been hard to find in all the cloisters of Germany, a man more adapted to the traffic with which he was charged. To the theology of a monk, and the zeal and spirit of an inquisitor, he united the greatest effron- tery. What most helped him in his office, was the facility he displayed in the invention of the strange stories with which the taste of the common people is generally pleased. No means came amiss to him to fill his coffers. Lifting up his voice and giving loose to a coarse volubility, he offered his indulgences to all comers, and excelled any salesman at a fair in recommending his merchandise. 5 As soon as the cross was elevated with the Pope's arms suspended upon it, Tetzel as- cended the pulpit, and, with a bold tone, began, in the presence of the crowd whom the ceremony had drawn to the sacred spot, to ex- alt the efficacy of indulgences. The people listened and wondered at the admirable vir- tues ascribed to them. A Jesuit historian says himself, in speaking of the Dominican friars whom Tetzel had associated with him : " Some of these preachers did not fail, as usual, to distort their subject, and so to exag- gerate the value of the indulgences as to lead the people to believe that, as soon as they gave their money, they were certain of salva- tion and of the deliverance of souls from pur- gatory." 6 If such were the pupils, we may imagine what lengths the master went. Let us hear one of these harangues, pronounced after the erection of the cross. "Indulgences," said he, "are the most precious and sublime of God's gifts. "This cross" (pointing to the red cross) " has as much efficacy as the cross of Jesus Christ. 7 " Draw near, and I will give you letters, duly sealed, by which even the sins you shall here- after desire to commit shall be all forgiven you. "I would not exchange my privileges for those of Saint Peter in heaven, for I have saved more souls with my indulgences than he with his sermons. " There is no sin so great that the indul- gence cannot remit it, and even if any one should (which is doubtless impossible) ravish the Holy Virgin Mother of God, let him pay, let him only pay largely, and it shall be for given him. 8 " Even repentance is not indispensable. "But more than all this: indulgences save not the living alone, they also save the dead. " Ye priests, ye nobles, ye tradesmen, ye wives, ye maidens, and ye young men hearken to your departed parents and friends, who cry to you from the bottomless abyss: ' We are enduring horrible torment ! a small alms would deliver us; you can give it, and you will not!'" A shudder ran through his hearers at these words, uttered by the formidable voice of the mountebank monk. " The very moment," continued Tetzel, " that the money clinks against the bottom of the chest, the soul escapes from purgatory, and flies free to heaven. 9 " 0, senseless people, and almost like to beasts, who do not comprehend the grace so richly offered ! This day, heaven is on all sides open. Do you now refuse to enter 1 ? When then do you intend to come in 1 This day you may redeem many souls. Dull and heedless man, with ten groschen you can de- liver your father from purgatory, and you are so ungrateful that you will not rescue him. In the day of judgment, my conscience will be clear; but you will be punished the more severely for neglecting so great a salvation. I protest that though you should have only one coat, you ought to strip it off and sell it, to purchase this grace. Our Lord God no longer deals with us as God. He has given all power to the Pope !" Then, having recourse to other inducements, he added, " Do you know why our most Holy Lord distributes so rich a grace 1 ? The dila- pidated Church of St. Peter and St.Paul is to be restored, so as to be unparalleled in the whole earth. That church contains the bodies of the holy apostles, Peter and Paul, and a vast company of martyrs. Those sacred bo- dies, owing to the present condition of the edifice, are now, alas! continually trodden, flooded, polluted, dishonoured, and rotting in rain and hail. Ah ! shall those holy ashes be suffered to remain degraded in the mire]" 1 ' This touch of description never failed to produce an impression on many hearers. There was an eager desire to aid poor Leo X., who had not the means of sheltering from the rain the bodies of St. Peter and St. Paul ! The speaker next proceeded to declaim against the disputers who should question, and the traitors who should oppose his mis- sion: "I declare them all excommunicated!" Then turning to the docile souls among his hearers, and impiously perverting the Scrip- ture, " Blessed," said he, " blessed are the eyes that see what you see ; for I tell you that many prophets and many kings have desired to see the things which ye see, and have not seen them, and to hear the things which ye hear, and have not heard them." And as a finish to his address, pointing to the strong box in which the money was received, he generally HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 69 concitided his moving discourse by thrice call- ing on tne people, " Bring your money ! bring money ! bring money !" " He uttered this cry with such a dreadful bellowing,'' observed Luther, " that one might have thought some wild bull was rushing among the people and goring them with his horns." 11 The moment he had made an end, he came down the steps of the pulpit, ran towards the strong box, and, in sight of all the people, threw in a piece of silver with a loud sound ! 12 Such were the discourses that Germany heard with astonishment, in the days when God was preparing Luther. The sermon ended, the indulgence was con- sidered as having "established its throne in the place with due solemnity." Confession- als, surmounted with the Pope's arms, were prepared. The sub-commissioners and con- fessors chosen were held to represent the apos- tolic penitentiaries, or absolving priests of Rome, at the period of a great jubilee; and on each of their confessionals were inscribed their names and titles. 13 Then the people came in crowds to the con- fessors. They came, not with contrite hearts, but with money in their hands. Men, women, the young, the poor, and those who lived by alms, every one then found money. The absolving priest, after again setting forth the indulgence, thus addressed the penitents: " How much money can you, in your con- science, spare to obtain so perfect a remis- l " "This question," said the Archbishop sionT of Mentz, in his instructions to the commis- sioners, " must be put at the moment, in order that the penitents may be better disposed to contribute." These conditions fulfilled were all that was necessary. In the Pope's bull, something was indeed said of the repentance of the heart and confession of the lips; butTetzel and his companions cautiously abstained from all mention of these; otherwise their coffers might have remained empty. The archiepis- copal instructions forbade even to mention conversion or contrition. Three great benefits were proclaimed. It is sufficient to notice the' first. " The first benefit we announce," said the commissioners, acting on their instructions, " is the complete pardon of all sins ; and it is not possible to speak of any greater benefit than this, since man who lives in sin is de- prived of the divine favour, and by this com- plete pardon he recovers the grace of God. 14 Now, we affirm, that to obtain these great blessings, it is only necessary to purchase an indulgence. 15 And as to those who desire to deliver souls from purgatory, and to procure for them the forgiveness of all their sins, let them put their money in the chest: but it is not needful that they should feel sorrow of heart, or make confession with the lips. 16 Let them only hasten to bring their money, for they will thus do a work most profitable to departed souls, and to the building of the Church of St. Peter." Greater blessings could not be proposed, nor at a lower cost. Confession being gone through, (and it was | soon despatched,) the faithful hastened to the | vendor. Only one was commissioned to sell. He had his counter close to the cross. He turned a scrutinizing glance on those who came. He examined their manner, step, and attire, and demanded a sum in proportion to the apparent circumstances of the party pre- senting himself. Kings, queens, princes, archbishops, bishops, &c., were to pay, accord- ing to the regulation, for an ordinary indul- gence, twenty-five ducats; abbots, counts, barons, &c., ten. The other nobles, superiors, and all who had an annual income of 500 florins, were to pay six. Those who had an income of 200 florins, one; the rest, half a florin. And, further, if this scale could not in every instance be observed, full power was given to the apostolic commissary, and the whole might be arranged according to the dic- tates of sound reason, and the generosity of the giver. 17 For particular sins Tetzel had a private scale. Polygamy cost six ducats; sacrilege and perjury, nine ducats ; murder, eight; witchcraft, two. Samson, who carried on in Switzerland the same traffic as Tetzel in Germany, had rather a different scale. He charged for infanticide, four livres tournois; for a parricide or fratricide, one ducat. 18 The apostolic commissaries sometimes en- countered difficulties in their commerce. It often happened, as well in the towns as in the villages, that husbands were opposed to the traffic, and forbade their wives to carry any thing to the dealers. What were their super- stitious partners to do 1 " Have you not your marriage portion, or some other property, at your disposal ?" asked the vendors. " In that case you can dispose of it for this holy pur- pose, without your husband's consent." 19 The hand that delivered the indulgence could not receive the money : that was forbid- den under the severest penalties ; there was good reason to fear that hand might not always be trustworthy. The penitent was himself to drop the price of his pardon into the chest. An angry look was cast on those who dared to close their purses. 20 If, among those who pressed into the con- fessionals, there came one whose crimes had been public, and yet untouched by the civil laws, such person was obliged, first of all, to do public penance. He was conducted to a chapel, or sacristy; there he was stripped of his clothes, his shoes taken off his feet, and he left in his shirt. They made him fold his arms upon his breast, placed a light in one hand, and a wax taper in the other. Then the penitent walked at the head of the procession, which passed to the red cross. He kneeled till the- singing and the collect were concluded ; then the commissary gave out the psalm, " Miserere mei" The confessors immediately approached the penitent, and led him across the station towards the commissary, who, taking the rod, and striking him thrice gently on the back, 21 said, " God take pity on thee, and pardon thy sin !" After this, he gave out the Kyrie eleison, &c. Then the penitent being led back, and placed before the cross, the con 70 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. fessor pronounced the apostolical absolution, and declared him reinstated in the company of the faithful. Wretched mummeries ! con- cluded by a passage of Scripture, which, at such a time, was a profanation ! We will give one of these letters of absolu- tion. It is worth while to know the contents of these diplomas, which gave occasion to the Reformation. "Our Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on thee, N. N., and absolve thee by the merits of his most holy sufferings ! And I, in virtue of the apostolic power committed to me, absolve thee from all ecclesiastical censures, judgments, and penalties that thou mayst have merited ; and further, from all excesses, sins, and crimes that thou mayst have com- mitted, however great and enormous they may be, and of whatever kind, even though they should be reserved to our holy father the Pope, and to the Apostolic See. I efface all the stains of weakness, and all traces of the shame that thou mayst have drawn upon thy- self by such actions. I remit the pains thou wouldst have had to endure in purgatory. I receive thee again to the sacraments of the Church. I hereby reincorporate thee in the communion of the saints, and restore thee to the innocence and purity of thy baptism ; so that, at the moment of death, the gate of the place of torment shall be shut against thee, and the gate of the paradise of joy shall be opened unto thee. And if thou shouldst live long, this grace continueth unchangeable, till the time of thy end. " In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. "The Brother, John Tetzel, commissary, hath signed this with his own hand." In this document, we see with what art presumptuous and false doctrines were inter- spersed among sacred and Christian expres- sions. All the faithful were to come and confess in the spot where the red cross was set up. None but the sick, old men, and women with child, were exempt. If, however, there was in the neighbourhood any noble in his castle, or wealthy man in his palace, his personal attendance was dispensed with. 22 For he might not care to mingle with this mob of people, and his money was worth fetching from his residence. If there was any convent whose superiors, disapproving TetzePs traffic, forbade their monks to resort to the places where the indulgence was offered, means were still found to remedy this. Confessors were sent to them, commissioned to absolve them con- trary to the rules of their order and the will of their superiors. 23 Not a vein of the mine was left unexplored. Then came what was the object and end of the whole affair, the reckoning of the money. To guard against all risks, the chest had three keys ; one was in the keeping of Tetzel, the other with the delegated treasurer of the house of Fugger of Augsburg, to whom, sometime before, this vast speculation had been farmed ; and the third was lodged with the civil authority. When the appointed day arrived, the chest was opened in presence of a public notary, and the whole contents carefully counted, and entered in the books. Was it not fit that Christ should arise and drive out these buyers and sellers from the temple ? The mission being ended, the dealers relax- ed in amusement, after their labours. The instruction of the commissary-general did, it is true, forbid their frequenting taverns and disreputable places. 24 But they paid little regard to this interdict. Sin must have had few terrors for men who carried on so easy a traffic in it. " The mendicant friars led an irregular life," says a Roman Catholic histo- rian ; " they spent in taverns, gaming houses, and houses of ill-fame, what the people had scraped together from their poverty." 25 It is even affirmed that, when they were in the taverns, they would sometimes stake on dice the salvation of souls. 26 But let us see to what scenes this sale of the pardon of sins gave rise in Germany. There are some incidents, which of them- selves are a picture of the times. We like to let those whose history we write speak for themselves. At Madgeburg, Tetzel refused to absolve a rich lady, unless she paid down one hundred florins. The lady consulted her usual con- fessor, who was a Franciscan. " God gives us remission of sins freely," answered he; " He does not sell it." Yet he entreated her not to mention what he had said. But the report of an opinion so adverse to his gains having reached the ears of Tetzel, " Such an adviser," he exclaimed, " deserves to be ex- pelled or burnt alive." 27 Tetzel found but few sufficiently enlighten- ed, and still fewer bold enough to resist him. In general he could easily manage a supersti- tious crowd. He had erected the red cross of indulgences at Zwickau, and the good people of the place had hastened to pour in the money that was to liberate souls. He was about to leave with a full purse. The even- ing before his departure, the chaplains and their acolytes called upon him to give them a farewell repast. The request was reasonable ; but what was to be done? the money was already counted and sealed up. In the morning he had the large bell tolled. A crowd hurried to the church: every one thought that some- thing extraordinary had happened, since the period of the station had expired. " I had intended," said he, "to take my departure this morning, but last night I was awakened by groans. I listened : they proceeded from the cemetery. Alas ! it was a poor soul that called me, and entreated to be delivered from the torment that consumed it. I therefore have tarried one day longer, that I might move Christian hearts to compassion for this unhappy soul. Myself will be the first to contribute; but he who will not follow rny example will be worthy of all condemnation." What heart would not answer to such an HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 71 appeal. Besides, who can tell what soul thus cries from the tomb 1 The gifts were many ; and Tetzel, with the chaplains and acolytes, sat down to a merry feast paid for by offerings for the poor soul of Zwickau. 28 The dealers in indulgences had established themselves at Hagenau in 1517. The wife of a shoemaker, profiting by the permission given in the instruction of the Commissary- general, had procured, against her husband's will, a letter of indulgence, and had paid for it a gold florin. Shortly after she died ; and the widower omitting to have mass said for the repose of her soul, the curate charged him with contempt of religion, and the judge of Hagenau summoned him to appear before him. The shoemaker put in his pocket his wife's indulgence, and repaired to the place of sum- mons. "Is your wife dead?" asked the judge. " Yes," answered the shoemaker. " What have you done with her "?" " I buried her and commended her soul to God." " But have you had a mass said for the salvation of her soul?" "I have not: it was not necessary : she went to heaven in the mo- ment of her death." " How do you know that ]" " Here is the evidence of it." The widower drew from his pocket the indulgence, and the judge, in presence of the curate, read, in so many words, that in the moment of death, the woman who had received it would go, not into purgatory, but straight into heaven. " If the curate pretends that a mass is neces- sary after that," said the shoemaker, " my wife has been cheated by our Holy Father the Pope; but if she has not been cheated, then the curate is deceiving me." There was no reply to this defence, and the accused was acquitted. 29 It was thus that the good sense of the people disposed of these impostures. One day, when Tetzel was preaching at Leipsic, and had introduced into his preach- ing some of these stories of which we have given a specimen, two students indignantly left the church, exclaiming " It is not possi- ble to listen any longer to the ridiculous and childish tales of that monk." 30 One of these students, it is affirmed, was young Camerarius, who was subsequently the friend of Melanc- thon, and wrote his life. But, of all the young men of that period, Tetzel made the strongest impression on My- conius subsequently celebrated as a Reform- er and an historian of the Reformation. My- conius had received a religious education. " My son," said his father, who was a pious Franconian, " pray frequently ; for all things are freely given to us by God alone. The blood of Christ," he added, "is the only ran- som for the sins of the whole world. Oh, my son! if there were but three men to be saved by the blood of Christ, only BELIEVE; 31 and be sure that you shall be one of those three. It is an insult to the Saviour's blood to doubt its power to save." Then, proceeding to warn his son against the trade that was begin- ning in Germany," The Roman indul- gences," said he, " are nets to fish for money, and delude the simple. Remission of sins and eternal life are not to be purchased by money." At thirteen, Frederic was sent to the school of Annaberg, to finish his studies. Soon after, Tetzel arrived in this town, and remained there for two months. The people flocked in crowds to hear him preach. "There is," ex- claimed Tetzel, with a voice of thunder, "no other means of obtaining eternal life save the satisfaction of good works. But this satisfac- tion is out of man's power. His only re- source is to purchase it from the Roman Pon- tiff." 82 When Tetzel was on the point of leaving Annaberg his appeal became more urgent. " Soon," said he with a threatening accent, "I shall take down that cross, and close the gate of heaven, and put out that sun of grace which shines before your eyes." 33 Then, re- suming a tenderer strain of exhortation, " This," said he, " is the day of salvation, this is the accepted time." And as a last effort, the pontifical Stentor, 3t speaking to the inhabitants of a country rich in mines, exclaimed, "In- habitants of Annaberg! bring hither your money; contribute liberally in aid of indul- gences, and all your mines and mountains shall be filled with pure silver." Finally, at Easter, he proclaimed that he would distribute his letters to the poor gratuitously, and for the love of God. The young Myconius happened to be among the hearers. He felt a wish to take advan- tage of this offer. " I am a poor sinner," said he, addressing in Latin the commissioners to whom he applied, " and I need a free pardon." " Those only," answered the dealers, " can share in the merits of Christ who stretch forth a helping hand to the Church that is, give their money." "What mean, then," said Myconius, "those promises of free distribu- tion posted up on the gates and walls of the churches T" " Give at least a gros," said Tet- zel's people, after having vainly interceded for the young man with their master. " I cannot." " Only six deniers." "I have not even so much." The Dominicans then began to apprehend that he meant to entrap them. "Listen." said they, " we will give you six deniers." On which the young man, raising his voice with indignation, replied: " I will have none of the indulgences that are bought and sold. If I desired to purchase them I should only have to sell one of my books. What I want is a free pardon, and for the love of God. You will have to ac- count to God for having, for the sake of six deniers, missed the salvation of a soul." " Ah ! ah ! " said they, " who sent you to tempt us 1 ?" "No one," replied the young man: "the desire of receiving the grace of God could alone induce me to appear before such great lords." He left them. " I was grieved," says he, " at being thus sent away without pity. But I felt in myself a Comforter, who whispered that there is a God in heaven who forgives repentant souls without money and without price, for the sake of his Son, Jesus Christ. As I left these G-2 73 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. people, the Holy Spirit touched my heart. I burst into tears, arid with sighs and groans prayed to the Lord : O God, since these men have refused remission of sins because I had no money to pay, do thou, Lord, take pity on me, and forgive them in mere mercy. I re- tired to my chamber. I took my crucifix from my desk, placed it on my chair, and kneeled before it. I cannot here put down what I ex- perienced. I asked of God to be my father, and to make me what he would have me. I felt my nature changed, converted, transform- ed. What had before delighted me was now distasteful. To live with God, and to please him, became my most ardent my single de- sire." 35 Thus Tetzel himself was preparing the Re- formation. By scandalous abuses he made way for a purer teaching ; and the generous indignation which he excited in youthful minds was destined one day to break forth with power. We may judge of this by the following incident. A Saxon gentleman had heard Tetzel at Leipsic, and was much shocked by his im- postures. He went to the monk, and inquired if he was authorized to pardon sins in inten- tion, or such as the applicant intended to com- mit? "Assuredly," answered Tetzel; "I have full power from the Pope to do so." " Well," returned the gentleman, " I want to take some slight revenge on one of my enemies, without attempting his life. I will pay you ten crowns, if you will give me a letter of indulgence that shall bear me harm- less." Tetzel made some scruples; they struck their bargain for thirty crowns. Shortly after, the monk set out from Leipsic. The gentleman, attended by his servants, laid wait for him in a wood between Jiiterboch and Treblin, fell upon him, gave him a beating, and carried off the rich chest of indulgence- money the inquisitor had with him. Tetzel clamoured against this act of violence, and brought an action before the judges. But the gentleman showed the letter signed by Tetzel himself, which exempted him beforehand from all responsibility. Duke George who had at first been much irritated at this action, upon seeing this writing, ordered that the accused should be acquitted. 36 This traffic everywhere agitated the minds of the people, and was everywhere discussed. It was the subject of conversation in castles, academies, and private houses, as well as in inns, taverns, and all places of resort. 37 Opin- ions were divided ; some believed, some were indignant. But the sober part of the nation rejected with disgust the whole system of in- dulgences. This doctrine was so opposed to the scriptures and to sound sense, that all men who possessed any knowledge of the Bible, or any natural acuteness, had already con- demned it in their hearts, and only waited for a signal to oppose it. On the other hand, mockers found abundant cause for ridicule. The people, who had been irritated for so many years by the ill conduct of the priests, and whom the fear of punishment had alone re- ! tained in any outward respect, gave loose to jail their animosity; and on all sides were, I heard complaints and sarcasms upon the love ' of money that infected the clergy. The people went still farther. They im- pugned the power of the keys and the authori- ty of the Sovereign Pontiff. "Why, "said they, does not the Pope deliver at once all the souls from purgatory by a holy charity, and on account of the great misery of those souls, since he frees so great a number for the sake of perishable gain and the cathedral of St. Peter?" " Why do we continue to observe the festi- vals and anniversaries for the dead ? Why does not the Pope surrender, or why does he not permit people to resume the benefices and prebends founded in favor of the dead, since now it is useless, and even wrong, to pray for those whom indulgences have forever set free ? What is this new kind of holiness of God and of the Pope, that for the sake of money they grant to a wicked man, and an enemy of God, the power of delivering from purgatory, a pious soul, beloved by the Lord, rather than themselves deliver it freely from love for it, and on account of its great misery ?" 38 Accounts were circulated of the gross and immoral conduct of the traffickers in indul- gences. " To pay," said they, " what they owe to drivers who carr) 7 them and their goods ; to innkeepers at whose houses they lodge, or to any one who does them service, they give a letter of indulgence for four, five, or as many souls as they wish." Thus the brevets of salvation were circulated in the inns and mar- kets, like bank notes or paper money. " Bring hither your money ," said the common people, " is the beginning, the middle, and the end of their sermons." 39 A miner of Schneeberg meeting a seller of indulgences inquired : " Must we then believe what you have often said of the power of in- dulgences and of the authority of the Pope, and think that we can redeem a soul from pur- gatory by casting a penny into the chest?" The dealer in indulgences affirmed that it was so. " Ah !" replied the miner, " what a cruel man the Pope must be, thus to leave a poor soul to suffer so long in the flames for a wretched penny ! If he has no ready money, let him collect a few hundred thousand crowns, and deliver all these souls by one act. Even we poor folks would willingly pay him the principal and interest." The people of Germany were weary of the shameful traffic that was carrying on in the midst of them. They could no longer bear the impostures of these Romish tricksters, as Lu- ther remarks. 40 Yet no bishop or divine dared to lay a finger on their quackery and deceit. The minds of men were in suspense. They asked each other, if God would not raise up some powerful instrument for the work that was required to be done. But such an one was no where visible. The pope who then filled the pontifical throne was not a Borgia, but Leo X. of the il- HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 73 lustrious family of the Medici. He was a man of talent, open-hearted, kind, and indulgent. His manners were affable, his liberality un- bounded, and his morals greatly superior to those of his court. Nevertheless the Cardinal Pallavicini confesses that they were not quite free from reproach. To these amiable quali- ties he added many of the accomplishments that form a great prince. He was, especially, a liberal patron of the arts and sciences. The earliest Italian comedies were represented in his presence, and most of the dramas of his time were honoured by his attendance. He was passionately fond of music, his palace daily resounded with musical instruments, and he was often heard humming the airs that had been sung before him. Fond of magnifi- cence he spared no expense in feastings, public games, theatrical entertainments, and gifts. No court surpassed in splendour or in plea- sures that of the Sovereign pontiff. So that when news was brought that Julian Medici was about to choose Rome as a place of resi- dence for himself, and his young bride, Cardi- nal Bibliena, the most influential of Leo's council, exclaimed, " God be praised! We wanted nothing here but a female circle." A *' female circle'' was felt requisite to complete the attractions of the Pope's court. But a feeling of religion was a thing of which Leo was entirely ignorant. " His manners," says Sarpi, " were so charming, that he would have been a perfect man, if he had some knowledge in religious matters, and a little more inclina- tion for piety, concerning which he never trou- bled himself." 41 Leo was in great want of money. He had to provide for his vast expenses ; to satisfy all demands on his liberality; to fill with gold the purse he every day threw to the people ; to defray the costs of the licentious plays at the Vatican ; to gratify the continued demands of his relations and courtiers who were ad- dicted to voluptuousness ; to portion his sister, who had married Prince Cibo, a natural son of Pope Innocent VIII.; and to bear all the ex- penses attending his taste for literature, arts, and pleasures. His cousin, Cardinal Pucci, who was as skilful in the art of amassing money as Leo was prodigal in spending, advised him to have recourse to indulgences. The Pope, therefore, published abull, proclaiming a gene- ral indulgence, the product of which should be appropriated, he said, to the building of St. Peter's Church, that splendid monument of ecclesiastical magnificence. In a letter given at Rome, under the seal of the fisherman, in November, 1517, Leo required from his com- missioner of indulgences 147 gold ducats, "to pay for a manuscript of the 33d book of Livy." Of all the uses he made of the money extorted from the Germans, this was undoubtedly the best. But it was strange to deliver souls from purgatory that he might, purchase a manuscript of the wars of the Romans ! There was then in Germany a young prince who was in many respects a counterpart of Leo X. : this was Albert, the younger brother of the Elector Joachim of Brandenburg. This young man, at the age of twenty-four, had been made Archbishop and Elector of Mentz and of Madgeburg; two years after he was made Cardinal. Albert had neither the virtues nor the vices which have often character- ized the dignitaries of the Church. Young, volatile, worldly-minded, but not devoid of generous sentiments, he plainly saw many of the abuses of Catholicism, and cared little for the fanatical monks that surrounded him. His equity inclined him to acknowledge, at least in part, the justice of what the friends of the Gospel required. In his heart he was not greatly opposed to Luther. Capito, one of the most distinguished Reformers, was for a long time his chaplain, counsellor, and inti- mate confidant. Albert regularly attended his preaching. " He did not despise the Gospel," says Capito ; " on the contrary, he highly es- teemed it, and for a long time prevented the monks from attacking Luther." But he would have had the latter abstain from compromising him, and beware, while pointing out the errors in doctrine and the vices of the inferior clergy, of bringing to light the faults of the bishops and princes. Above all, he feared to find his own name thrust forward in the contest. " See," said Capito to Luther, at a subsequent period, deluding himself as is usual in such cases, "see the example of Christ and of his Apostles : they reproved the Pharisees and the incestuous person in the church of Corinth, but did not do so by name. You do not know what is passing in the hearts of the bishops. There is, perhaps, more good in them than you think." But the frivolous and profane turn of Albert's character was likely to indispose him. for the Reformation, even more than the sus- ceptibilities and fears of his self-love. Affa- ble in his manners, witty, graceful, of expen- sive and even dissipated habits, delighting in the pleasures of the table, and in rich equi- pages, houses, licentious pursuits, and literary society, this young Archbishop and Elector was in Germany what Leo was at Rome. His court was one of the most splendid of the Em- pire. He was ready to sacrifice to pleasure and grandeur all the foretastes of truth that might visit his soul. Yet there was in him, to the last, a sort of struggle with his better convictions ; and he more than once manifested moderation and equity. Like Leo, Albert was in want of money, Some rich merchants of Augsburg, named Fugger, had made him some advances. He was pressed for the means of liquidating his debts ; nay, more ; although he had obtained two archbishoprics and a bishopric, he had not enough to pay for his pallium at Rome. This ornament made of white wool, interspersed with black crosses, and blessed by the Pope, who was accustomed to send it to the arch* bishops as a sign of their jurisdiction, cost them 26,000, or, as some say, 30,000 florins. It was quite natural that Albert should form the project of resorting to the same means as his superior to obtain money. He solicited from the Pope the contract for the " farmi ng" of all the indulgences, or, as they expressed it at HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. Rome, " the contract for the sins of the Ger mans." At times the Popes kept the speculation in their own hands. Sometimes they farmed i to others; as, in certain states, is still done with framing-houses. Albert proposed to Lee to divide the profits. Leo, in accepting the bargain required immediate payment of the pallium. Albert, who was all the while de pending on the indulgences for the means ol discharging this claim, applied to the Fuggers who, thinking it a safe investment, made, on certain conditions, the required advances ; am were appointed cashiers in this great under taking. They were at this period bankers t many princes, and were afterwards made counts for the services they had rendered. The Pope and Archbishop having thu divided beforehand the spoils of the credulous souls of Germany, it was necessary to earn out the project, and to find some one to under take the trouble of realizing it. The charge was first offered to the Franciscans, and thei guardian was associated in it with Albert But the Franciscans did not desire any part in this undertaking, which was already in il repute among good people. The Augustine monks, who were more enlightened than the other religious orders, would have cared stil less to join in it. Meanwhile, the Francis cans feared to offend the Pope, who had lately sent to their general, Forli, a cardinal's hat which cost that poor mendicant order 30,00( florins. The guardian therefore judged i most prudent not to meet the offer by a direc refusal; but he raised all kinds of difficulties in the way of Albert ; they never could agree so that the Elector was glad to accept' the proposal that he should take the whole charge of the concern. The Dominicans, on their part, coveted a share in the lucrative trade about to be opened. Tetzel, already notorious in such matters, hastened to Mentz, and ten- dered his services to the Elector. His proved usefulness in publishing the indulgences for the knights of the Teutonic Order of Prussia and Livonia was recollected, and he was ac- cepted ; and thus it was that all this traffic passed into the hands of his order. 42 The first time Luther heard speak of Tetzel was, as far as we are informed, in the year 1516, at Grimrna, when he was commencing his visitation of the churches. Some one came and told Staupitz, who was still with Luther, that a seller of indulgences, named Tetzel, was making much noise at Wurtzen. Some of his extravagant expressions being quoted, Luther was indignant, and exclaimed, "God willing, I will make a hole in his drum." 43 Tetzel in his return from Berlin, where he had met with a most friendly reception from the Elector Joachim, a brother of the farmer- general, took up his abode at Jiiterboch. Staupitz, availing himself of the confidence the Elector Frederic reposed in him, had re- peatedly called his attention to the abuse of the indulgences, and the disgraceful proceed- ings of the collectors. 44 The Princes of Saxony, indignant at the shameful traffic, had forbidden Tetzel to enter their provinces. He was therefore compelled to stop on the territory of his patron, the Archbishop of Magdeburg. But he drew as near as he could to Saxony. At Jiiterboch he was only four miles distant from Wittemberg. "This great purse-drainer," said Luther, "went boldly to work, beating up the country all round, so that the money began to leap out of every man's purse, and fall into his chest." The people flocked in crowds from Wittem- berg, to the indulgence market at Jiiterboch. Luther was still at this time full of respect for the Church and for the Pope. He says himself, " I was then a monk, a papist of the maddest, so infatuated and even steeped in the Romish doctrines, that I would willingly have helped to kill any one who had the audacity to refuse the smallest act of obedi- ence to the Pope. I was a true Saul, like many others still living." 45 But, at the same time his heart was ready to take fire for what he thought the truth, and against what, in his judgment, was error. "I was a young doc- tor, fresh from the anvil, glowing and rejoicing in the glory of the Lord." 46 One day Luther was at confessional in Wittemberg. Several residents of that town successively presented themselves: they con- fessed themselves guilty of great irregularities, adultery, licentiousness, usury, unjust gains: such were the things men came to talk of with a minister of God's word, who must one day give an account of their souls. He reproved, rebuked, and instructed. But what was his astonishment, when these persons replied that they did not intend to abandon their sins ! The pious monk, shocked at this, declared, that since they would not promise to change their habits of life, he could not absolve them. Then it was that these poor creatures appealed to their letters of indulgence; they showed them, and contended for their efficacy. But Luther replied, that he had nothing to do with their paper; and he added, "If you do not turn from the evil of your way, you will all perish." They exclaimed against this, and renewed their application; but the doctor was immoveable. "They must cease," he said, "to do evil, and learn to do well, or otherwise no absolution. Have a care," added he, how you give ear to the indulgences: you have something better to do than to buy 'icences which they offer you for paltry pence." 4V Much alarmed, these inhabitants of Wittem- )erg quickly returned to Tetzel, and told him hat an Augustine monk treated his letters with contempt. Tetzel, at this, bellowed with anger. He held forth in the pulpit, ised insulting expressions and curses, and, to strike the people with more terror, he had a ire lighted several times in the grand square, md declared that he was ordered by the Pope o burn the heretics, who should dare to op- iose his most holy indulgences. 48 Such was the incident that first gave occa- ion to the Reformation, though not the cause f it. A pastor sees his sheep going on in a HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 75 way that would lead them to their ruin ; he seeks to guide them out of it. He has as yet no thought of reforming the Church and the world. He has seen Rome and its corruption ; but he does not erect himself against Rome. He discerns some of the abuses under which Christendom groans, but he has no thought of correcting those abuses. He does not de- sire to constitute himself a Reformer. 49 He has no more plan in his mind for the reform of the Church, than he had previously had for that which had been wrought in his own soul. God himself designed a Reformation, and to make Luther the instrument of its accomplish- ment. The same remedy, of which the effi- cacy was proved by the removal of his own distress, it was God's purpose that he should apply to the distresses of Christendom. He remains quietly in the circle assigned to him. He goes simply where his master calls him. He is discharging at Wittemberg his duties as professor, preacher, pastor. He is seated in the temple, where the members of his church come to open their hearts to him. It is there, on that field, that Evil attacks, and Error seeks him out. Those about him would hinder him from discharging his duty. His conscience, bound to the word of God, is aroused. Is it not God who calls him? Resistance is a duty, therefore it is also a right; he must speak. Such was the course of the events occurring in the providence of that God, who had decreed to revive Chris- tianity by the agency of a miner's son; and to refine in his furnace the corrupted teaching of the Church. 50 After what has been stated, it is needless to refute a lying charge invented by some enemies of Luther, and not till after his death. It has been said it was a jealousy on the part of the monks of his order, the mortification of seeing the Dominicans, and not the Augus- tines, who had previously held it, intrusted with this shameful and disreputable com- merce, that led the Doctor of Wittemberg to attack Tetzel, and his teaching. The well ascertained fact that this traffic had been at first offered to the Franciscans, who would not have it, suffices to refute this invention repeated by writers who do but copy one an- other. Cardinal Pallavicini himself declares that the Augustines had never held this office. 51 Besides, we have seen the struggle of Luther's soul. His conduct needs no other explana- tion. He could not refrain from confessing aloud the doctrine to which he owed his hap- piness. In Christianity, when a man finds a treasure for himself, he hastens to impart it to others. In our day men have abandoned such puerile and unworthy attempts to account for the great revolution of the sixteenth century. It is recognised that there must be some more powerful lever to raise the whole world, and that the reformation was not in Luther merely, but that the age in which he lived must necessarily have given birth to it. Luther, called on alike by obedience to the truth of God and by charity to man, ascended the pulpit. He warned his hearers as was ; his duty, as himself tells us. 52 His Prince had I obtained from the Pope some special indul- gences for the church in the castle of Wit- ! temberg. Some of the blows, which he is about to strike at the indulgences of the in- quisitor, may easily fall on those of the Elec- tor. It matters not; he will brave his dis- grace. If he sought to please man, he would not be the servant of Christ. " No one can show from the Scriptures that God's justice requires a penalty or satisfaction from the sinner," said the faithful minister of the word to the people of Wittemberg. "The only duty it imposes on him is a true repent- ance, a sincere change of heart, a resolution to bear the cross of Christ, and to strive to do good works. It is a great error to seek our- selves to satisfy God's justice for our sins, for God ever pardons lliem freely by an inestima- ble grace. " The Christian Church, it is true, requires somewhat from the sinner, and what she re- quires she may remit. But that is all. And furthermore, these indulgences of the Church are only tolerated out of regard for slothful and imperfect Christians, who will not employ themselves zealously in good works; for they excite no one to sanctification, but leave every one in his lowness and imperfection." Then, passing to the pretext on which the indulgences were proclaimed, he continued: " It would be much better to contribute to the building of St. Peter's from love to God, than to buy indulgences for such a purpose. But say you, shall we then not buy them ? I have already said as much, and I repeat it : my advice is that none should buy them. Leave them for drowsy Christians, but do you keep yourselves separate from such. Let the faith- ful be turned from indulgences, and exhorted to the works they neglect." Then, glancing at his adversaries, Luther concluded in these words : ** And if some cry that I am a heretic, for the truth which I preach is prejudicial to their coffers I pay little regard to their clamours ; they are men of gloomy or sickly minds, who have never felt the truths of the Bible, never read the Christian doctrine, never understood their own teachers, and are perishing in the tattered rags of their vain opinions. 53 However, God grant to them and to us a right understanding! Amen." This said, the Doctor came down from the pulpit, leaving his hearers much af- fected by this bold harangue. This sermon was printed and made a deep impression on all who read it. Tetzel an- swered it, and Luther defended himself; hut this was at a later period, in 1518. The feast of All Saints w r as at hand. Some chroniclers relate at this time, a circumstance, which, however little important it may be to the history of this epoch, may still serve to characterize it. It is a dream of the Elector, beyond reasonable doubt true in the essen- tial parts, though some circumstances may have been added by those who related it. It is mentioned by Seckendorf. 64 " The fear of giving occasion to his adversaries to say that 7G HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. Luther's doctrine rested upon dreams, has perhaps prevented other historians from speak- ing of it," observes this respectable writer. The Elector, Frederic of Saxony, these chroniclers tell us, was then at his castle of Schweinitz, six leagues from Wittemberg. The morning of the 3 1st of October, being with his brother, Duke John, (who was then co-regent, and who reigned alone after his death,) and with his Chancellor, the Elector said to the Duke : " Brother, I must tell you a dream that I had last night, and of which I should be very glad to know the meaning. It is so deeply engraved on my mind, that I should not for- get it were I to live a thousand years, for I dreamt it thrice, and each time with some new circumstances." Duke John. " Is it a good dream or bad dream?" The Elector." I know not : God knows." Duke John. " Do not make yourself un- easy about it : tell it me." The Elector. " Having gone to bed last night, tired and dispirited, I fell asleep soon after saying my prayers, and slept quietly about two hours and a half. I then woke ; and continued engaged till midnight with a variety of thoughts. I considered how I should keep the festival of All Saints; I prayed for the poor souls in purgatory, and besought God to guide me, my counsellors and my people, into all truth. I fell asleep again: and then I dreamt that Almighty God sent a monk to me, who was the true son of the Apostle Paul. All the saints accompanied him, according to the command of God, in order to testify to me in his favour, and to de- clare that he was not come with any fraudu- lent design, but that all he did was agreeable to the will of God. They asked me, at the same time, graciously to allow him to write something on the church door of the castle of Wittemberg; which request I granted by the mouth of the Chancellor. Thereupon the monk went his way, and began to write, but in such large characters, that I could read from Schweinitz what he was writing. The pen that he used was so long that its extremity reached even to Rome, wounded the ears of a lion (Leo} that was couched there, and shook the triple crown on the Pope's head. - All the cardinals and princes, running hastily towards him, endeavoured to support it. You and I, brother, among the rest, attempted to support it; I put out my arm: but, at that moment I woke, with my arm extended, in great alarm, and very angry with the monk who handled liis pen so awkwardly. I recovered myself a little; it was only a dream. " But I was still hall asleep, and I closed my eyes again. My dream continued. The lion, still disturbed by the pen, began to roar with all his might, so that the whole city of Rome and all the states of the holy Empire ran to inquire what was the matter. The Pope called upon us to restrain the monk, and addressed himself particularly to me, because he lived in my country. I woke again ; I re- peated a Paler nosfer. I besought God to pre- serve the holy Father, and I then fell asleep again. " After this, I dreamt that all the Princes of the Empire, you and I amongst the rest, were flocking to Rome, trying one after the other to break this pen ; but the more we ex- erted ourselves, the stiffer it became; it resist- ed as if it had been made of iron ; at length we were tired. I then asked the monk, (for I seemed to be sometimes at Rome, and some- times at Wittemberg,) where he had obtained that pen, and why it was so strong] 'The pen,' replied he, ' once belonged to the wing of a goose of Bohemia, a hundred years old.* I received it from one of my old schoolmasters; its strength is that no one can take the pith out of it; and I am myself quite surprised at it.' Suddenly I heard a loud cry : from the monk's long pen had issued a great number of other pens. I woke a third, time : it was daylight." Duke John. " Master Chancellor, what do you think of it 1 ? Oh ! that we had here a Joseph or a Daniel enlightened by God !" The Chancellor. " Your highnesses know the vulgar proverb, that the dreams of maidens^ scholars, and nobles, have generally some hidden meaning : but we shall not know the meaning of this for some time, till the things to which it relates shall have taken place. Therefore, commend the accomplishment of it to God, and leave it in his hands." Duke John. "I agree with you, Master Chancellor : it is not right that we should puzzle our heads about the meaning of this : God will turn all to his glory." The Elector. " God in his mercy grant it! However, I shall never forget the dream. I have thought of one interpretation ; but I keep it to myself. Time will perhaps show if I have guessed right." Such, according to the manuscript of Wei- mar, was the conversation that took place on the morning of the 31st of October at Schwei- nitz. Let us next see what happened in the evening of the same day at Wittemberg. We now return to the firmer ground of history. The admonitions of Luther had produced but little effect: Tetzel, without disturbing himself, continued his traffic and his impious addresses to the people. 55 Shall Luther sub- mit to these grievous abuses ? shall he keep silence? As a pastor, he has powerfully ex- horted those who attended his ministry ; and as a preacher, he has uttered a warning voice from the pulpit. He has yet to speak as a divine; he has yet to address himself, not merely to a few persons in the confessional, not merely to the assembly of the church of Wittemberg, but to all those who are, like himself, teachers of God's word. His reso- lution is formed. It was not the Church that he thought of * John Huss. This is one of the particulars that may have been added at a subsequent period, in allusion to the well known saying of Huss him' self. HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 77 attacking ; it was not the Pope he was about to call to account; on the contrary, his re- spect for the Head of the Church would not allow him to be any longer silent in regard to assumptions, by which the Pope's credit was disparaged. He must take his part against those audacious men who dared to mix up his venerable name with their disgraceful traffic. Far from thinking of a revolution that should overthrow the primacy of Rome, Luther con- ceived that he had the Pope and Catholicism with him, against the effrontery of the monks. 53 The feast of All Saints was a very impor- tant day at Wittemberg, and especially at the church which the Elector had built and filled with relics. On this occasion those relics, encased in gold and silver, and adorned with precious stones, were set out to dazzle the eyes of the people with their magnificence. 57 Whoever, on that day, visited the church, and there confessed himself, obtained a plenary indulgence. On that great day the pilgrims flocked in crowds to Wittemberg. Luther, whose plan was already formed, went boldly on the evening of the 31st of Ootober, 1517, to the church, towards which the superstitious crowds of pilgrims were flocking, and affixed to the door ninety-five theses or propositions, against the doctrine of indulgences. Neither the Elector, nor Stau- pitz, nor Spalatin. nor any of his friends, even those most intimate with him, had any pre- vious intimation of his design. 58 Luther therein declared, in a kind of pre- amble, that he had written these theses in a spirit of sincere charity, and with the express desire of bringing the truth to light. He de- clared himself ready to defend them, next day, at the university itself, against all opposers. The attention excited by them was very great; and they were read and repeated on all sides. The pilgrims, the university, and the (whole city were soon in confusion. The fol- lowing are some of the propositions written by the pen of the monk, and posted on the door of the church of Wittemberg : " 1. When our Master and Lord Jesus Christ says, ' Repent,' he means that the whole life of his faithful servants upon earth should be a constant and continual repentance. " 2. This cannot be understood of the sa- crament of penance, (that is to say of con- fession and satisfaction,) as administered by the priest. " 3. However, our Lord does not here speak only of inward repentance: inward repent- ance is invalid, if it does not produce out- wardly every kind of mortification of the flesh. " 4. Repentance and grief that is to say, true penitence, lasts as long as a man is dis- pleased with himself, that is to say, till he passes from this life to eternal life. "5. The Pope has no power or intention to remit any other penalty than that which he has imposed, according to his good pleasure, or conformably to the canons, that is to say, to the Papal ordinances. " 6, The Pope cannot remit any condemna- tion ; but can only declare and confirm the remission that God himself has given; except only in cases that belong to him. If he does | otherwise, the condemnation continues the same. "8. The laws of ecclesiastical penance can only be imposed on the living, and in nowise respect the dead. "21. The commissioners of indulgences are in error in saying, that, through the in- dulgence of the Pope, man is delivered from, all punishment, and saved. "25. The same power, that the Pope has over purgatory in the Church at large, is pos- sessed by every bishop in his diocese and every curate in his parish. " 27. Those persons preach human inven- tions who pretend that, at the very moment when the money sounds in the strong box, the soul escapes from purgatory. "28. This is certain : that, as soon as the money sounds, avarice and love of gain come in, grow and multiply. But the assistance and prayers of the Church depend only on the will and good pleasure of God. " 32. Those who fancy themselves sure of their salvation by indulgences will go to the devil with those who teach them this doc- trine. " 35. They teach antichristian doctrine who profess that, to deliver a soul from pur- gatory, or to purchase an indulgence, there is no need of sorrow or of repentance. "36. Every Christian who feels true re- pentance for his sins has perfect remission from the punishment and from the sin, with- out the need of indulgences. "37, Every true Christian, dead or living, is a partaker of all the riches of Christ, or of the Church, by the gift of God, and with- out any letter of indulgence. " 38. Yet we must not despise the Pope's distributive and pardoning power, for his pardon is a declaration of God's pardon. " 40. Repentance and real grief seek and love chastening; but the softness of the in- dulgence relaxes the fear of chastisement, and makes us averse from it. "42. We must teach Christians, that the Pope neither expects nor wishes us to com- pare the act of preaching indulgences with any charitable work whatsoever. "43. We must teach Christians, that he who gives to the poor, or lends to the needy, does better than he who buys an indulgence. " 44. For the work of charity makes cha- rity to abound, and renders man more pious; whilst the indulgence makes him not better, but only more confident in himself, and more secure from punishment. 45. W T e must teach Christians, that he who sees his neighbour in want, and, not- withstanding that, buys an indulgence, does not in reality acquire the Pope's indulgence, and draws down on himself the anger of God. 46. We must teach Christians, that if they have no superfluity, they are bound to keep for their families wherewith to procure necessaries, and they ought not to waste their money on indulgences. 78 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. " 47. We must teach Christians, that the purchase of an indulgence is not a matter of commandment, but a thing in which they are left at liberty. "48. We must teach Christians, that the Pope, having more need of the prayer of faith than of money, desires prayer rather than money, when he distributes indulgences. " 49. We must teach Christians, that the Pope's indulgence is good, if we do not put our trust in if; but that nothing can be more hurtful, if it leads us to neglect piety. " 50. We must teach Christians, that if the Pope knew the exactions of the preachers of indulgences, he would rather that the metro- politan church of St. Peter were burnt to ashes, than see it built up with the skin, the flesh, and bones of his flock. "51. We must teach Christians, that the Pope, as in duty bound, would willingly give his own money, though it should be necessary to sell the metropolitan church of St. Peter for the purpose, to the poor people, whom the preachers of indulgences now rob of their last penny. "52. To hope to be saved by indulgences is to hope in lies and vanity; even although the commissioner of indulgences, nay, though even the Pope himself, should pledge his own soul in attestation of their efficacy. " 53. They are the enemies of the Pope and of Christ, who, to favour the preaching of in- dulgences, forbid the preaching of the word of God. " 55. The Pope can think no otherwise than this: "If the indulgence (which is the lesser) is celebrated with the sound of a bell, and pomp and ceremony, much more is it right to celebrate the preaching of the Gospel (which is the greater) with a hundred bells, and a hundred times more pomp and ceremony. " 62. The true and precious treasure of the Church is the holy Gospel of the glory and grace of God. " 65. The treasures of the Gospel are nets, in which it formerly happened that the souls of rich men, living at ease, were taken. "66. But the treasures of the indulgence are nets, wherewith now they fish for rich men's wealth. " 67. It is the duty of bishops and pastors to receive with all respect the commissioners of the apostolical indulgences. " 68. " But it is much more their duty to satisfy themselves, by their presence, that the said commissioners do not preach the dreams of their own fancy instead of the Pope's orders. "71. Cursed be whosoever speaks against the Pope's indulgence. " 72. But blessed be he who opposes the foolish and reckless speeches of the preachers of indulgences. "78. The Pope's indulgence cannot take away the least of our daily sins, so far as the blame or offence of it is concerned. "79. To say that the cross, hung with the Pope's arms, is as powerful as the cross of Christ, is blasphemy. "80. The bishops, pastors, and divines, who allow these things to be taught to the people will have to give account for it. "81. This shameless preaching, these impudent praises of indulgences, make it difficult for the learned to defend the dignity and honour of the Pope against the calumnies of preachers, and the subtle and artful ques- tions of the common people, "86. Why, say they, does not the Pope build the metropolitan church of St. Peter's with his own money, rather than with that of poor Christians, seeing that he is richer than the richest Crassus 1 " 92. May we therefore be rid of those preachers, who say to the Church of Christ ' Peace, peace,' when there is no peace. " 94. We must exhort Christians to en- deavour to follow Christ, their head, under the cross, through death and hell. "95. For it is better, through much tribu- lation, to enter into the kingdom of heaven, than to gain a carnal security by the consola- tions of a false peace." Here then was the beginning of the work. The germs of the Reformation were enclosed in these theses of Luther. They attacked the indulgences, and this drew notice ; but under this attack was found a principle, which, while it drew much less of the people's atten- tion, was one day to overturn the edifice of the Papacy. The evangelic doctrine of a free and gracious remission of sins was for the first time publicly professed. The work must now go forward. In fact it was evident that who- ever should receive that faith in the remission of sins proclaimed by the Doctor of Wittem- berg, whoever should possess that repent- ance, that conversion, and that sanctification, of which he urged the necessity, would no longer regard human ordinances, would throw off the bandages and restraints of Rome, and acquire the liberty of God's children. All errors would fall before this truth. It was by this that the light had just entered the mind of Luther; it was likewise by it that the light was ordained to spread in the Church. A clear perception of this truth was what had been wanting to the earlier Reformers. Hence the unprofitableness of their efforts. Luther clearly saw, at a later period, that in proclaim- ing justification by faith, he had laid the axe to the root of the tree. "It is doctrine that we attack in the followers of the Papacy," said he. " Huss and Wicklif only attacked their life; but in attacking their doctrine, we seize the goose by the throat. Every thing depends on the word of God, which the Pope has taken from us and falsified. I have overcome the Pope, because my doctrine is according to God, and his is the doctrine of the devil." 59 We also, in our day, have lost sight of this cardinal doctrine of justification by faith, though not in the same way as our fathers. "In Luther's time," says one of our contem- poraries, 604 '^ remission of sins cost some mo- ney at least; but in our days, every one takes it gratuitously to himself." There is much analogy between these two false notions. In our error there is perhaps more forgetfulness HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 79 of God than that which prevailed in the 16th century. The principle of justification by God's free grace, which delivered the Church from such deep darkness at the period of the Reformation, can alone renew this generation, terminate its doubts and waverings, destroy the egotism which consumes it, establish mo- rality" and uprightness among the nations, in a word, bring back to God the world which has forsaken him. But if these theses of Luther were strong in the strength of the truth they proclaimed, they were no less powerful in the faith of him who declared himself their champion. He had boldly drawn the sword of the word. He had done this in reliance on the power of truth. He had felt that, in dependence on the pro- mises of God, something might be hazarded, as the world would express it. " Let him who resolves to begin a good work," (said he, speaking of this bold attack,) " undertake it, relying on the goodness of the thing itself, and in no degree on any help or comfort to be de- rived from men : moreover, let him not fear men, nor the whole world. For that text shall never be falsified: 'It is good to trust in the Lord, and he that trusteth in him shall cer- tainly never be confounded.' But as for him who will not, or cannot, venture something, trusting in God, let him carefully abstain from undertaking any thing." 61 We cannot doubt that Luther, after having fixed his theses on the door of the church of All Saints, withdrew to his peaceful cell, filled with that peace and joy which flow from an action done in the name of the Lord, and for the cause of ever- lasting truth. Whatever boldness may appear in these theses, we still discover in them the monk who would refuse to allow a single doubt as to the authority of the Roman See. But in attack- ing the doctrine of indulgences, Luther had unconsciously borne hard upon many errors, the discovery of which could not be agreeable to the Pope, since it must necessarily lead, sooner or later, to the discrediting his su- premacy. Luther's views, at that time, did not extend so far; but he felt the boldness of the step he had just taken, and thought therefore that he ought to qualify it, as far as he could, consistently with the respect he owed to the truth. He consequently put forth these theses only as doubtful propositions, in respect to which he solicited information from the learned ; and he added (in accordance, it is true, with an established custom,) a solemn protestation, by which he declared, that he did not mean to say or affirm anything that was not founded on the Holy Scriptures, the Fathers of the Church, and the rights and decretals of the court of Rome. Often did Luther, in after times, when he contemplated the vast and unexpected conse- quences of this courageous step, feel amazed at himself, and unable to comprehend how he had dared to take it. The truth was, an in- visible and all-powerful hand held the guiding rein, and urged on the herald of truth in a road which he knew not, and from the difficul- ties of which he would perhaps have shrunk, lad he been aware of them, and advanced alone and of his own will. "I entered on this controversy," said he, "without any set- tled purpose or inclination, and entirely un- prepared ... I call God to witness this who sees the heart." 62 Luther had learned what was the source of these abuses. A little book was brought him, adorned with the arms of the Archbishop of Mentz and Magdeburg, containing rules to be followed in the sale of the indulgences. Thus it was this young prelate, this accom- plished prince, who had prescribed, or at least sanctioned, this imposture. Luther saw in him only a superior, whom it was his duty to honour and respect. 63 He resolved no longer to beat the air, but rather to apply to those who had the office of government in the church. He addressed to him a letter full of frankness and humility. Luther wrote to Al- bert the same day that he placarded his theses. 'Forgive me, most reverend Father in Christ, and most illustrious Prince, if I, who am the very meanest of men, have the bold- ness to write to your sublime grandeur. 64 The Lord Jesus is my witness that, feeling how small and contemptible I am, I have long de- layed to do so. Yet let your Highness look upon an atom of dust, and in your episcopal compassion graciously receive my request. " Men are carrying throughout the country the papal indulgence, under your Grace's name. I will not so much accuse the cla- mours of the preachers, (for I have not heard them,) as the false opinions of simple and ignorant people, who, when they purchase these indulgences, think themselves sure of their salvation. " Great God ! the souls confided, my very excellent Father, to your care, are trained not for life, but for death. The strict reckoning that will one day be required of you, increases every day. I could no longer keep silence. No! man is not saved by the work or the office of his bishop. Scarcely even is the righteous saved, and the way that leadeth unto life is narrow. Why then do the preach- ers of indulgences, by empty fictions, lull the people in carnal security. "The indulgence alone, if we can give ear to them, is to be proclaimed and exalted. What, is it not the chief and only duty of the bishops to teach the people the Gospel and the love of Christ 1 ! 65 Christ himself has nowhere told us to preach indulgences, but he has enjoined us to preach the Gospel. How horrid and dangerous then it is for a bishop to allow the Gospel to be withheld, and the indulgences alone to be continually sounded in the ears of the people ! " Most worthy Father in God, in the In- struction of the Commissioners, which was published in your Grace's name, (certainly without your knowledge,) it is said, that the indulgence is the most precious treasure; that by it a man is reconciled to God, and that repentance ' is not needed by those who pur- chase it. H 80 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. "What can I, what ought I to do, most worthy bishop and serene prince 1 Oh! I entreat your Highness, by the Lord Jesus Christ, to look into this matter with paternal vigilance, to suppress this book entirely, and to order the preachers to address to the people different instructions. Jf you neglect to do this, prepare yourself to hear some day a voice lifted, that shall refute these preachers, to the great disgrace of your most serene Highness." Luther, at the same time, sent his theses to the Archbishop, and asked him in a postscript to read them, in order to convince himself of the little dependence that was to be placed on the doctrine of indulgences. Thus, the only wish of Luther was, that the watchmen of the Church should arouse themselves, and endeavour to put a stop to the evils that were laying it waste. Nothing could be more noble or respectful than this letter of a monk to one of the greatest princes of the Church and of the Empire. Never did any one act more in the spirit of Christ's pre- cept : " Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's." This conduct bears no resemblance to that of the reckless revolutionist, who de- spises dominions and speaks evil of dignities. It is the conscientious appeal of a Christian and a priest, who renders honour to all, but, above all, has the fear of God in his heart. But all his entreaties and supplications were useless. Young Albert, wholly engrossed by pleasure and the pursuits of ambition, made no reply to this solemn address. The Bishop of Bran- denburg, Luther's ordinary, a learned and pious man, to whom he also sent the theses, replied that he was attacking the power of the Church; that he would bring upon himself much trouble and grief; that the attempt would be found too much for his strength, and that he would do well to give up the affair altogether. 66 The princes of the Church closed their ears to the voice of God, which was making itself heard in so affecting and ener- getic a manner through the instrumentality of Luther. They would not understand the signs of the times; they were struck with that blindness which has already accelerated the ruin of so many powers and dignities. 44 They both thought at that time," as Luther afterwards observed, "that the Pope would be too powerful for a poor mendicant monk like me." But Luther could judge better than the bishops, of the fatal effect of indulgences on the lives and morals of the people; for he was intimately connected with them. He saw constantly and close at hand, what the bishops only knew from reports that could not be depended on. If he found no help from the bishops, God was not wanting to him. The head of the Church, who sits in the heavens, and to whom alone all power is given upon earth, had himself prepared the soil, and committed the seed to the hand of his servant ; he gave wings to those seeds of truth, and scattered them in a moment over the whole field of the church. No one appeared next day at the university to impugn the propositions of Luther. Tet- zel's traffic was too generally decried and too disreputable for any other person than himself, or one of his followers, to dare to accept the challenge. But these theses were destined to find an echo beyond the vaulted roof of the academy. Hardly had they been nailed to the church door of the castle of Wittemberg, when the feeble sound of the hammer was succeeded by a thunderclap, which shook the very foundations of proud Rome; threatened with instant ruin the walls, gates, and pillars of the Papacy; stunned and terrified its cham- pions; and at the same time awakened from the slumber of error many thousands of men. 67 These theses spread with the rapidity of lightning. Before a month had elapsed, they had found their way to Rome. " In the space of a fortnight," says a contemporary historian, " they had spread over Germany, and within a month they had run through all Christendom, as if angels themselves had been the bearers of them to all men. It is difficult to conceive the stir they occasioned." 68 They were after- wards translated into Dutch, and into Spa- nish ; and a traveller carried them for sale as far as Jerusalem. " Every one," said Luther, "was complaining of the indulgences, and, as all the bishops and doctors had kept silence, and no one was inclined to take the bull by the horns, poor Luther became a fa- mous doctor; because, at last, said they, one doctor was found who dared grapple with him. But I did not like this glory, and I thought the song in too high a key for my voice." 69 Many of the pilgrims who had flocked from all sides to Witternberg at the feast of All Saints, took back with them not the indulgences but the famous theses of the Augustine monk. Thus they helped to diffuse them. Every one read them, meditating and commenting on them. Men conversed about them in convents and in colleges. 70 The devout monks who had entered the convents that they might save their souls, and all upright and well-intentioned men rejoiced at so simple and striking a confession of the truth, and heartily desired that Luther might continue the work he had begun. " I observe," says one very worthy of credit, and a great rival of the Reformer, (Erasmus,) speaking to a cardinal, " that the more irreproachable men's morals, and the more evangelical their piety, the less are they opposed to Luther. His life is commended even by those who cannot endure his opinions. The world was weary of a method of teaching in which so many puerile fictions and human inventions were mixed up, and thirsted for that living, pure, and hiddqji stream which flows from the veins of the apostles and evangelists. The genius of Luther was such as fitted him for these things, and his zeal would naturally take fire at so noble an enterprise." 71 To form an idea of the various but prodi- gious effect that these propositions produced in Germany, we should endeavour to follow HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 81 them wherever they penetrated, into the study of the learned, the cell of the monk, and the palaces of the princes. Reuchlin received a copy of them. He was tired of the rude conflict he had waged with the monks. The strength evinced by the new combatant in these theses cheered the depressed spirits of the old champion of letters, and gave fresh joy to his drooping heart. "Thanks be to God," exclaimed he, after having read them, " they have now found a man who will give them so much to do, that they will be very glad to leave my old age to pass away in peace." The cautious Erasmus was in the Low Countries when the theses reached him. He inwardly rejoiced to see his secret desires for the reform of abuses so courageously express- ed : he commended their author, only exhort- ing him to more moderation and prudence. And yet, when some one in his presence blamed Luther's violence, " God," said Eras- mus, " has sent a physician who cuts into the flesh, because, without such an one, the dis- order would become incurable." And when afterwards Ihe Elector of Saxony asked his opinion of Luther's affair, " I am not at all surprised," answered he, smiling, " that he has occasioned so much disturbance, for he has committed two unpardonable offences, he has attacked the tiara of the Pope, and the bellies of the monks." 72 Doctor Flek, prior of the cloister of Stein- lausitz, had for some time discontinued read- ing mass, but he told no one his true reason. One day he found the theses of Luther in the convent refectory : he took them up and read ; and no sooner had he gone through some of them, than, unable to suppress his joy, he exclaimed, "Oh ! now at last, one is come who has been long waited for, and will tell you all ; look there, monks !" Thence glanc- ing into futurity, as Mathesius remarks, and playing on the word Wittemberg: "All the world," said he, "will come to seek wisdom on that mountain, and will find it." 73 He wrote to the Doctor, urging him by all means to con- tinue the glorious struggle with courage. Luther calls him " a man full of joy and con- solation." The ancient and famous episcopal see of Wiirzburg was then filled by a pious, kind, and prudent man, Laurence of Bibra. When a gentleman came to announce to him that he destined his daughter for the cloister, " Better give her a husband," said he. And he added, " If you want money to do so, I will lend you." The Emperor and all the princes had the highest esteem for him. He deplored the disorders of the Church, and especially of the convents. The theses reached him also in his episcopal palace ; he read them with great joy, and publicly declared that he Approved Luther's view. He afterwards wrote to the Elector Frederic, " Do not let the pious Doc- tor Martin Luther leave you, for the charges against him are unjust." The Elector rejoiced at this testimony, copied it with his own hand, and sent it to the Reformer. The Emperor Maximilian, the predecessor of Charles V., himself read and admired the theses of the monk of Wittemberg. He per- ceived the wide grasp of his thoughts ; he fore- saw that this obscure Augustine might proba- bly become a powerful ally in Germany, in her struggle with Rome. Accordingly, he sen* this message to the Elector of Saxony : "Take care of the monk Luther, for a time may come when we may have need of him:" 74 and shortly after, meeting PfefHnger, the confidential ad- viser of the Elector, at the Diet, " Well," said he, "what is your Augustine about? Truly his propositions are not to be despised. He will show wonders to the monks." 75 Even at Rome, and at the Vatican, the the- ses were not so ill received. Leo X. regarded them rather with the feelings of a friend of learning than a Pope. The amusement they gave him made him overlook the stern truths they contained ; and when Silvester Prierias, the master of the sacred palace, besought him to treat Luther as a heretic, he answered, " That same brother, Martin Luther, is a man of talent, and all that is said against him is mere monkish jealousy." 76 There were few on whom the theses of Luther had more effect than on the student of Annaberg, whom Tetzel had so unmercifully repulsed. Myconius had entered into a con- vent. That very night he had dreamed that he saw a wide field covered with ripe grain. " Reap," said the voice of him who seemed to conduct him ; and when he excused him- self as unskilled, his guide showed him a reaper labouring at his work with inconceiv- able activity. "Follow him, and do as he does," 77 said his guide. Myconius, panting, like Luther, for holiness, gave himself up in the convent to watchings, fastings, macera- tions, and all the works of man's invention. But in the end he abandoned all hope of attain- ing the object of his pursuit. He left off study and applied himself only to manual labours. Sometimes he bound books, sometimes he wrought as a turner, or at some other mecha- nical occupation. This activity of body was unavailing, however, to quiet his troubled con- science. God had spoken to him ; he could not relapse into his former sleep. This dis- tress of mind lasted several years. Men some- times imagine that the paths of the Reformers were altogether pleasant, and that when once they had rejected the burdensome observances of the Church, nothing remained but ease and delight. . Such persons do not know that they only arrived at the truth by internal struggles a thousand times more painful than the observ- ances to which servile spirits readily submitted. At length the year 1517 arrived : the theses of Luther were published; they ran through all lands ; they arrived at the convent in which the student of Annaberg was immured. He retired with another monk, John Voit, into a corner of the cloister, that he might read them undisturbed. 78 There was indeed the truth he had learned from his father; his eyes were opened ; he felt a voice within him responding to that which then resounded throughout Ger- HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. many; and a rich comfort filled his heart. 44 1 see clearly," said he, " that Martin Lu- ther is the reaper whom I beheld in my dream, and who taught me to gather in the ripe corn." Immediately he began to profess the doctrine which Luther had proclaimed. The monks listened to him with dismay, combated his new opinions, and exclaimed against Luther and his convent. " That convent," replied Myconius, " is as the Sepulchre of our Lor*; some men attempt to hinder Christ's resurrec- tion, but they cannot succeed in their attempt." At last his superiors, seeing that they were unable to convince him, forbade him for a year and a half all intercourse beyond the walls of his convent; prohibiting him from writing or receiving letters; and threatened him with perpetual imprisonment. However, the hour of deliverance came also to him. Appointed shortly after pastor at Zwickau, he was the first who openly declared against the Papacy in the churches of Thuringia. " Then it was that I was enabled," says he, "to labour with my venerable father Lu- ther in the harvest of the gospel." Jonas has designated him a man capable of all he dertook. 79 Doubtless there were other souls besides these to whom the theses of Luther were the signal of life. They kindled a new light in many a cell, cabin, and even palace. Whilst those who sought, in monastic seclusion, a well-supplied board, a life of indolence, or the reverence of their fellow-men, observes Mathe sius, heaped reproaches on the Reformer's name, the monks who lived in prayer, fast- ings, and mortifications, thanked God when they heard the first cry of that eagle predicted by John Huss, a century before. 80 Even the common people, who understood but little of the theological question, and only knew that this man protested against mendicant friars and indolent monks, hailed him with shouts of joy. An extraordinary sensation was pro- duced in Germany by his bold propositions. But others of his contemporaries foresaw their serious consequences, and the many obstacles they would have to encounter. They loudly expressed their fears, and never rejoiced with- out trembling. "I fear much," wrote Bernard Adelrnan, the excellent canon of Augsburg, to his friend Pirckheimer, " that the worthy man will be, after all, obliged to yield to the avarice and power of the partisans of indulgences. His remonstrances have had so little effect, that the Bishop of Augsburg, our primate and me- tropolitan, has just ordered, in the Pope's name, fresh indulgences for St. Peter's at Rome. 81 Let him, without losing time, seek the support of the princes; let him beware of tempting God ; for one must be void of com- mon sense, not to see the imminent danger in which he stands." Adelman rejoiced greatly when a report was current that King Henry VIII. had invited Luther to England. " He will there," thought he, "be able to teach the truth without molestation." Many there were who thus imagined that the doctrine of the Gospel needed to be supported by the power of princes. They knew not that it advances without any such power, and that often the al- liance of this power hinders and weakens it. The celebrated historian, Albert Kranz, was lying on his death-bed at Hamburgh, when the theses of Luther were brought to him. " Thou hast truth on thy side, brother Martin !" exclaimed the dying man, "but thou wilt not succeed. Poor monk, get thee to thy cell, and cry, God, have mercy on me!" 82 An old priest of Hexter in Westphalia, hav- ing received and read the theses in his pres- bytery, said, in low German, shaking his head, " Dear brother Martin, if you succeed in cast- ing down that purgatory and those sellers of paper, truly you will be a great man." Erbe- nius, who lived a hundred years later, wrote these lines under the words we have quoted : Quid vero, nunc si viveret, Bonus iste clericus diceret ?* Not only did many of Luther's friends, con- ceive fears from his proceeding; several ex- pressed to him their disapproval. The Bishop of Brandenburg, grieved at see- ing so important a controversy originating in his own diocese, would have wished to stifle it. He resolved to set about it with mildness. " 1 find," said he to Luther, by the Abbot of Lenin, " nothing in the theses concerning the indulgences at variance with the Catholic faith. I even myself condemn those imprudent pro- clamations; but for the love of peace, and out of regard to your bishop, cease to write on this subject." Luther was embarrassed that so distinguished an abbot and so great a bishop should address him with such humility. Moved and carried away by the first impulse of his heart, he answered, " I consent; I prefer obe- dience even to the working of miracles, if that were possible to me." 83 The Elector saw with regret the commence- ment of a contest, legitimate doubtless, but one of which the result could not be foreseen. No prince more sincerely desired to maintain the public peace than Frederic. Yet now what a vast conflagration might not this little fire kindle! what great contentions, what rending asunder of the nations might this quarrel with the monks produce ! The Elector sent Luther repeated intimations of his un- easiness on the subject/ 4 In his own order, and even in his convent of Wittemberg, Luther met with disapproba- tion. The prior and the sub-prior were fright- ened at the outcry made by Tetzel and all his companions. They went to brother Martin's cell, alarmed and trembling: "Pray," said they, "do not bring disgrace upon your order! The other orders, and especially the Domini- cans, are already transported with joy to think that thay are not alone in their obloquy." Lather was affected by these words; but soon recovering himself, he answered, "Dear fa- thers ! if the thing is not of God, it will come What would the worthy clerk now say If he were living in our day ? HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 83 naught; if it is, let it go forward." The prior and the sub-prior were silent. "The thing is going forward still" adds Luther, after having related this circumstance, " and if it please God, it will go on better and better to the end. Amen." 85 Luther had many other attacks of a very different kind to endure. At Erfurth he was accused of violence and pride in the manner in which he condemned the opinions of others ; a reproach to which those persons are gene- rally exposed who have that strength of con- viction which is produced by the word of God. He was reproached with haste, and with levity. "They require modesty in me," replied Luther, "and they themselves trample it un- der foot in the judgment they pass on me ! . . . We behold the mote in another's eye, and con- sider not the beam that is in our own eye. . . . The truth will gain no more by rny modesty than it will lose by my rashness." " I should like to know," continued he, addressing him- self to Lange, " what errors you and your di- vines have found in my theses. Who does not know that we can seldom advance a new idea without an appearance of pride, and with- out being accused of seeking quarrels ? If humility herself attempted any thing new, those of a different opinion would exclaim that she was proud. 86 Why were Christ and all the martyrs put to death ? Because they appeared proud despisers of the wisdom of the times in which they lived, and because they brought forward new truths without having first hum- bly consulted the oracles of the old opinions. " Let not the wise men of the present day, therefore, expect from me so much humility, or rather hypocrisy, as to ask their judgment, before I publish that which my duty calls upon me to proclaim. What I am doing will not be effected by the prudence of man, but by the counsel of God. If the work is of God, who shall stop it] If it is not, who can forward it? Not my will, not theirs, nor ours, bat Thy will, thine, holy Father, who art in hea- ven !" What boldness, what noble enthusiasm, what trust in God ! and especially what truth in these words, and what truth for all times ! However, the reproaches and accusations which were brought against Luther from all sides, did not fail to make some impression upon his mind. He was deceived in his ex- pectations. He had expected to see the heads of the Church, the most distinguished philo- sophers of the nation, publicly join him ; but it was quite otherwise. A word of encourage- ment hastily bestowed at the outset was "all that the more favourably disposed afforded him ; and many of those whom he had regarded with most veneration were loud in their con- demnation of him. He felt himself alone in the Church; alone against Rome; alone at the foot of that ancient and formidable cita- del, whose foundations reached to the bowels of the earth, and whose walls, ascending to the skies, appeared to deride the presump- tuous stroke which his hand had aimed against 12 | them. 87 He was disturbed and dejected at the j thought. Doubts, which he thought he had I overcome, returned to his mind with fresh j force. He trembled to think that he had the whole authority of the Church against him. To withdraw himself from that authority, to resist that voice which nations and ages had humbly obeyed, to set himself in opposition to that Church which he had been accustomed frfm his infancy to revere as the mother of the faithful ; he, a despicable monk, it was an effort beyond human power. 88 No one step cost him so much as this, and it was in fact this that decided the fate of the Reformation. No one can describe better than himself the struggle he then suffered in his mind. "I began this affair," said he, " with great fear and trembling. What was I at that time? a poor, wretched, contemptible friar, more like a corpse than a man.* 9 Who was I, to oppose the Pope's majesty, before which not only the kings of the earth and the whole world trembled ; but also, if I may so speak, heaven and hell were constrained to obey the slightest intimation of his will? No one can know what I suffered those first two years, and in what dejection, I might say in what despair, I was often plunged. Those proud spirits who afterwards attacked the Pope with such boldness, can form no idea of my sufferings ; though, with all their skill, they could have done him no injury, if Christ had not inflicted upon him, through me, His weak and unworthy instrument, a wound from, which he will never recover. But whilst they were satisfied to look on and leave me to face the danger alone, I was not so happy, so calm, or so sure of success ; for I did not then know many things which now, thanks be to God, I do know. There were, it is true, many pious Christians who were much pleased with my propositions and thought highly of them. But I was not able to recognise these, or look upon them as inspired by the Holy Ghost; I only looked to the Pope, the cardinals, the bishops, the theologians, the jurisconsults, the monks, the priests. It was from thence that I expected the Spirit to breathe. However, after having triumphed, by means of the Scrip- tures, over all opposing arguments, I at last overcame, by the grace of Christ, with much anguish, labour, and great difficulty, the only argument that still stopped me, namely, * that I must hear the church;' 90 for, from my heart, I honoured the church of the Pope as the true church, and I did so with more sincerity and veneration than those disgraceful and infa- mous corrupters of the church, who, to oppose me, now so much extol it. If I had despised the Pope, as those persons do in their hearts, who praise him so much with their lips, I should have feared that the earth would open at that instant, and swallow me up alive, like Korah and his company." How honourable are these struggles to Luther's character ! what sincerity, what up- rightness, do th.ey evince ! and how much more worthy of our respect is he rendered by these painful assaults from within and from SH 84 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. without, than he could have been by an intre- pidity untried by conflict. This travail of his soul is good evidence of the truth and divine nature of his work. We see that the cause and principle of all his actions was from heaven. Who will dare to say, after all the characteristics we have pointed out, that the Reformation was a political affair ? No, certainly, it was not the fruit of human policy, but of divine power. If Luther had Uhly been actuated by human passions, he won Id have yielded to his fears ; his disappoint- ments and misgivings would have smothered the fire that had been kindled in his soul, and he would only have shed a transient light upon the Church, as had been done before by so many zealous and pious men, whose names have been handed down to posterity. But now God's time was come ; the work was not to be arrested ; the enfranchisement of the Church must be accomplished. Luther was destined at least to prepare the way for that complete deliverance and that mighty increase which are promised to the kingdom of Christ. Accordingly he experienced the truth of that glorious promise : " The youths shall faint, and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fail : But they that wait on the Lord shall re- new their strength; they shall mount up with wings, as eagles." And the same divine power, which, animating the heart of the Doc- tor of Wittemberg, had led him to the combat, soon restored his former courage. The reproaches, the timidity, or the silence of his friends had discouraged him ; the at- tacks of his enemies reanimated him: this is usually the case. The adversaries of the truth, thinking by their violence to do their own work, did in fact the work of God. 91 Tetzel took up the gauntlet, but with a feeble hand. The sermon of Luther, which had had the same eifect upon the common people as the theses had had upon the learned, was the first thing he undertook to answer. He re- plied to this discourse, sentence by sentence, in his own manner ; he then gave notice that he was preparing to confute his adversary more at length, in some theses which he would maintain at the famous university of Frankfort upon the Oder. "Then," said he, referring to the conclusion of Luther's sermon, "every one will be able to discover who is an heresiarch, a heretic, a schismatic, who is in error, who is rash, who is a slanderer. Then it will be evident to the eyes of all, who has ' a gloomy brain,' who has ' never felt the Bible, read the doctrines of Christianity, and understood his own teachers ;' and in de- fence of the propositions that I bring forward I am ready to suffer any punishment what- soever, imprisonment, bastinado, water, or fire." One thing strikes us in this work of TetzeFs. It is the difference between his German and that of Luther. It seems as if there w.ere a distance of several ages between them. A foreigner especially finds it difficult to under- stand Tetzel, whilst the language of Luther is almost entirely such as is used at the pre- sent day. It is sufficient to compare their writings, to see that Luther is the father of the German language. This is undoubtedly one of the least of his merits, but still it is a merit. Luther replied to this attack without nam- ing Tetzel; Tetzel had not named him. But there was no one in Germany who could not have written in the front of their produc- tions the names which the authors thought fit to conceal. Tetzel endeavoured to confound the repentance that God requires with the pe- nitence that the Church imposes ; in order to give higher value to his indulgences. Luther undertook to clear up this point. " To avoid many words," said he, in his own picturesque language, " I give to the winds, (which have more leisure than I have,) his other remarks, which are but paper flowers and dry leaves, and I content myself with examining the foundations of his edifice of burrs." " The penitence imposed by the holy Father cannot be the repentance required by Christ: for what the holy Father imposes he can dis- pense with : and if these two penitences are one and the same thing, it follows that the holy Father takes away what Christ imposes, and destroys the commandment of God . . . Let him only ill treat me," continues Luther, after having quoted other false interpretations of Tetzel, "let him call me a heretic; schis- matical, slanderous, and whatever he pleases : I shall not be his enemy on that account; nay, so far from it, I will, on that account, pray for him as for a friend. But it cannot be endured that he should treat the Holy Scrip- ture, our consolation, as a sow treats a sack of oats." 92 We must accustom ourselves to find Luther sometimes using expressions too coarsely vi- tuperative for modern taste : it was the cus- tom of the time ; and we generally find in those words which shock our notions of pro- priety in language, a suitableness and strength which redeem their harshness. He con- tinues : " He who purchases indulgences, (say our adversaries again,) does better than he who gives alms to a poor man, unless he be re- duced to the greatest extremity. Now, if they tell us that the Turks are profaning our churches and crosses, we may hear it without shuddering, for we have amongst ourselves Turks a hundred times worse, who profane and annihilate the only true sanctuary, the word of God, which sanctifies all things. . . . Let him who wishes to follow this precept, take good care not to feed the hungry, or to clothe the naked, before they die of want, and consequently have no more need of assistance." It is important to compare Luther's xeal for good works, with what he says about justifi- cation by faith. Indeed, no one who has any experience and knowledge of Christianity, wants this new proof of a truth of which he has felt the fullest evidence; namely, that the more firmly we hold the doctrine of justifica- tion by faith, the better we know the necessi- HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 85 ty of works, and the more diligent we are in the practice of them ; whilst on the other hand, any laxity of the doctrine of faith brings with it, of necessity, a neglect of good works. Lu- ther, St. Paul before him, and Howard after him are proofs of the former assertion. All men without this faith, and the world is full of such, give proof of the latter. Luther proceeds to refer to the insults of Tetzel, and returns them in this fashion : "It seems to me, at the sound of these invectives, that I hear a great ass braying at me. I re- joice at it, and should be very sorry that such people should call me a good Christian." . . . We must represent Luther such as he was, and with all his weaknesses. This inclina- tion to humour, and even low humour, was one of them. He was a great man, a man of God ; but he was a man, and not an angel, nor even a perfect man. Who has the right to require this in him 1 ? " Furthermore," adds he, defying and chal- lenging his adversaries to combat, "although for such things it is not the custom to burn heretics, here am I, at Wittemberg, I, Doctor Martin Luther! and if there is any inquisitor who wishes to chew iron, or blow up rocks, I give him notice that he may have a safe- conduct hither, open gates, a good table, and a lodging prepared for him, all through the gracious care of the worthy prince, Duke Frederic, Elector of Saxony, who will never be the protector of heretics." 93 We see that Luther was not wanting in courage. He trusted in the word of God, and that is a rock that never fails to shelter us in the storm. But God in his faithfulness also afforded him other assistance. To the bursts of joy with which the multitude received the theses of Luther, had succeeded a mournful silence. The learned had timidly withdrawn when they heard the calumnies and insults of Tetzel and of the Dominicans. The bish- ops, who had before loudly blamed the abuse of the indulgences, seeing them at last attack- ed, had not failed, as is always the case, to discover that the attack was unseasonable. The greater part of the Reformer's friends were alarmed. Every one shrunk back. But when the first alarm was over, a change took place in the minds of men. The monk of Wittemberg, who, for some time had been al- most alone in the Church, soon saw himself again surrounded by a multitude of friends and admirers. There was one, who, though timid still re- mained faithful to him at this crisis, and whose friendship was a consolation and support. This was Spalatin. Their correspondence had been kept up. " I return you thanks," he says to him, speaking of a special mark of friendship he had received from him, "but what do I not owe you V' 94 It was on the llth of November, 15 17, eleven days after the pub- lication of the theses, and consequently at the moment when the minds of the people were in the greatest ferment, that Luther thus pour- ed forth his gratitude to his friend. It is in- teresting to see in this very letter to Spalatin, how this strong man who had just performed an action requiring so much courage, acknow- ledges whence his strength is derived. "We can do nothing of ourselves; we can do all things by the grace of God. Ignorance in any measure is altogether beyond our power to overcome. There is no ignorance so dark but the grace of God can dispel it. The more we labour by our own strength to attain wis- dom,' the more infatuated we become. 95 And it is not true that this invincible ignorance excuses the sinner, for otherwise there is no such thing as sin in the world." Luther had sent his propositions neither to the prince nor to any of his courtiers. It ap- pears that the chaplain expressed some sur- prise at this. "I did not wish," answered Luther, "that my theses should reach the hands of our illustrious prince, or any of his circle, before those who think they are there- in referred to had received them, lest they should suppose that I published them by the prince's direction, or to court his favour, and out of ill-will to the Bishop of Mentz. I am told there are several who fancy this ; but now I can safely affirm, that my theses were published without the privity of Duke Fre- deric." 96 If Spalatin comforted his friend, and sup- ported him with all his influence, Luther, on his part endeavoured to answer all the inqui- ries addressed to him by the diffident chap- lain. Among his questions was one which is often proposed in our days. " W T hal," asked he, " is the best method of studying the Scriptures ?" " Hitherto," answered Luther, " worthy Spalatin, you have asked only things I was able to answer. But to guide you in the study of the Holy Scripture is beyond my strength. However, if you insist on knowing my method, I will not conceal it from you. "It is most plain we cannot attain to the understanding of Scripture either by study or by strength of intellect. Therefore your first duty must be to begin with prayer. 97 Entreat the Lord to deign to grant you, in his rich mercy, rightly to understand his word. There is no other interpreter of the word of God but the author of that word himself; even as He has said, ' They shall all be taught of God.' Hope nothing from your study, or the strength of your intellect; but simply put your trust in God, and in the guidance of his Spirit. Be- lieve one who has made trial of this method." 58 Here we see how Luthei attained to the pos- session of the truth which he preached to others. It was not, as some have said, by following the guidance of his own presump- tuous reason ; nor was it, as others assert, by surrendering himself to the contentious pas- sions. He drew from the purest and holiest spring, by humble, trusting, and prayerful in- quiry of God himself. But then, there are few men of this age who follow his example ; and hence it is that there are few who under- stand him. To a. thoughtful mind these words of Luther are of themselves a justifica- tion of the Reformation. 86 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. Luther also found consolation in the friend- ship of respectable laymen. Christopher Scheurl, the worthy town-clerk of the imperial city of Nuremberg, at this time afforded him some affecting marks of his regard." How sweet to the heart of a man encompassed with adversaries is every intimation of interest felt in his success ! The town-clerk of Nurem- berg went further ; he wished to bring over other friends to the man he himself befriended. He proposed to him that he should dedicate one of his writings to Jerome Ebner, a juris- consult of Nuremberg, who was then in great repute. "You have a high notion of my la- bours," answered Luther modestly ; " but I myself have a very poor opinion of them. It was my wish, however, to comply with your desire. I looked, but amongst all my papers, which I never before thought so meanly of, I could find nothing but what seemed totally unworthy of being dedicated to so distin- guished a person by so humble an individual as myself." Touching humility ! The words are those of Luther, and he is speaking of the comparatively unknown name of Doctor Ebner ! Posterity has not ratified his esti- mate. Luther, who made no attempt to circulate his theses, had not only abstained from send- ing them to the Elector and his court, but had not even sent them to Scheurl. The town- clerk of Nuremberg expressed some surprise at this. " My design," answered Luther, " was not to make them so public. I wished to discuss the various points comprised in them with some of our associates and neighbours. 100 If they had condemned them, I would have destroyed them ; if they had approved them, I would have published them. But now they have been printed again and again, and cir- culated so far beyond all my expectations, that I regret the product! on of them ; 101 not that I fear the truth being made known to the peo- ple, for that is my object; but they are not in the best form for general instruction. They contain some points, too, which are still ques- tionable in my own judgment. And if I had thought they would have made such an im- pression, there are propositions that I would have left out, and others that I would have asserted with greater confidence." Luther afterwards thought differently. Far from fearing that he had said too much, he declared he ought to have spoken out much more fully. But the apprehensions that Luther evinced to Scheurl do honour to his sincerity. They show that he had no preconceived plan, or party purpose; that he was free from self- conceit, and was seeking the truth alone. When he had discovered it in its fulness, his language was changed. " You will find in my earlier writings," said he, many years afterwards, " that I very humbly conceded to the Pope many and important things which I now abhor and regard as abominable and blasphemous." 102 Scheurl was not the only layman of consi- deration who then manifested a friendly dis- position towards Luther. The famous painter, Albert Durer, sent him a present, probably one of his productions, and the Doctor ex- pressed his gratitude for the gift. 103 Thus Luther, at that time, experienced in his own person the truth of the divine word : " A friend loveth at all times ; and a brother is born for adversity." But he recalled the passage for comfort to others as well as to himself. He pleaded for the entire nation. The Elector had just levied a tax, and it was af- firmed that he was about to levy another, in accordance, probably, with the advice of Pfef- finger, his counsellor, whose conduct was often the subject of Luther's strictures. The Doctor boldly placed himself in the breach. " Let not your Hihness," said he, " despise the prayer of a poor friar. I beseech you, in God's name, not to impose any further tax. I was heart-broken, and so were many of those who are most devoted to you, at see- ing to what a degree the last had injured your Highness's fair name and popularity. It is true that God has endowed you with a lofty judgment, so that you see further into the consequences of these things than I or your subjects in general. But it may be the will of God that a meaner capacity shall minister instruction to a greater, to the end that no one may trust in himself, but simply in the Lord our God. May he deign, for our good, to preserve your body in health, and your soul for everlasting blessedness. Amen." Thus the Gospel, while it honours kings, pleads the cause of the people. It instructs subjects in their duties, and it calls upon princes to be regardful of their subjects' rights. The voice of such a Christian man as Luther, speaking in the secret chamber of a sovereign, may often do more than can be effected by a whole assembly of legislators. In this same letter, in which Luther incul- cated a stern lesson to his prince, he was not afraid to ask a boon of him, or rather, to re- mind him of a promise, the promise he had made him of a new gown. This freedom on Luther's part, at a moment when he might fear he had offended Frederic, is equally honourable to the Prince and the Reformer. " But if," said he, " Pfeffinger has the charge of these matters, let him give it me in reality, and not in protestations of friendship. For as to weaving fine words together, it is what he excels in ; but no good cloth comes of that." Luther thought that by his faithful counsels he had fairly earned his court garment. 104 How- ever, two years after he had not received it, and his solicitation was renewed. 105 A fact which seems to show that Frederic was not so easily wrought upon by Luther as has been supposed. The minds of men had gradually recovered from the alarm that had at first been commu- nicated to them. Luther himself was inclined to declare that his words did not bear the con- struction that had been put upon them. New events might have diverted public attention ; and the blow aimed against the Romish doc- trine might have spent itself in the air, as had HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 87 often bepn the case before. But the partisans of Rome prevented the affair from ending thus. They fanned the flame instead of extinguish- ing it. Tetzel and the Dominicans haughtily re- plied to the attack made upon them. Eager to crush the audacious monk who had dis- turbed their traffic, and to conciliate the favour of the Roman Pontiif, they raised a shout of indignation, affirmed that to attack the in- dulgences established by the Pope, was to attack the Pope himself; and summoned to their assistance all the monks and divines of their school. 106 It is evident, indeed, that Tet- zel was conscious of his own inability to cope with such an adversary as Luther. Quite disconcerted by the Doctor's attack, and irri- tated in the highest degree, he quitted the neighbourhood of Wittemberg, and went to Frankfort on the Oder, where he arrived in November, 1517. Conrad Wimpina, a man of great eloquence, and one of the most dis- tinguished divines of the time, was one of the professors in the university of that city. Wimpina regarded with a jealous eye both the Doctor of Wittemberg and the university to which he belonged. The reputation en- joyed by both gave him umbrage. Tetzel requested him to answer the theses of Luther, and Wimpina accordingly wrote two series of antitheses, the first in defence of the doc- trine of indulgences, and the second of the Papal authority. On the 20th January, 1518, took place that disputation which had been so long preparing, which had been announced so ostentatiously, and on which Tetzel built his hopes. Loudly had he beat to arms. Monks had been gather- ing together from all the neighbouring clois- ters. More than three hundred were now assembled. Tetzel read to them his theses. In these he repeated all that he had advanced before, even the declaration that " Whoso- ever shall say the soul does not take its flight from purgatory, immediately that the money is dropped into the chest is in error." 107 But, above all, he put forward propositions by which the Pope seemed actually " seated," as the apostle expresses it, " in the temple of God, showing himself to be God." This shameless dealer in counterfeit wares found it convenient to retreat with all his disorders and scandals under the cover of the Pope's mantle. The following are positions which he de- clared himself ready to defend, in presence of the numerous assembly that surrounded him : "3. Christians should be taught, that the Pope, in the plenitude of his power, is higher than the universal church, and superior to councils; and that entire submission is due to his decrees. " 4. Christians should be taught, that the Pope alone has the right to decide in questions of Christian doctrine; that he alone, and no other, has power to explain, according to his judgment, the sense of Holy Scripture, and to approve or condemn the words and works of others. "5. Christians should be taught, that the judgment of the Pope, in things pertaining to Christian doctrine, and necessary to the salva- tion of mankind, can in no case err. "6. Christians should be taught, that they should place more dependence in matters of faith on the Pope's judgment, expressed in his decrees, than of the unanimous opinion of all the learned, resting merely upon their interpretation of Scripture. "8. Christians should be taught, that they who conspire against the honour or dignity of the Pope incur the guilt of treason, and deserve to be accursed. " 17. Christians should be taught, that there are many things which the Church regards as certain articles of the Catholic faith, although they are not found either in the inspired Scrip- tures or in the early Fathers. "44. Christians should be taught to regard as obstinate heretics all who, by speech, action, or writing, declare that they would not retract their heretical propositions, though excommu- nication after excommunication should be showered upon them like hail. "48. Christians should be taught, that they who protect the errors of heretics, and who, by their authority, hinder them from being brought before the judge who has a right to hear them, are excommunicate ; and that if, within the space of one year, they cease not from doing so, they will be declared infamous, and severely visited with punishment, con- formable to the provisions of the law, and for the warning of others. 108 "50. Christians should be taught, that they who scribble so many books and tracts, who preach, or publicly, and with evil intention, dispute about the confession of the lips, the satisfaction of works, the rich and large in- dulgences of the Bishop of Rome and his power; they who side with those who preach or write such things, and take pleasure in their writings, and circulate them among the people and in society; and finally, all they, who, in secret, speak of these things with contempt or irreverence, must expect to fall under the pen- alties before recited, and to plunge themselves and others along with them, into eternal con- demnation at the great day, and the deepest disgrace in this present world. For every beast that toucheth the mountain shall be stoned." We perceive that Luther was not the only object of Tetzel's attack. In his 48th thesis he probably had an eye to the Elector of Saxony. In other respects these propositions savour strongly of the Dominican. To threaten all opposition with rigorous chastisements, was an inquisitor's argument, which there was no way of answering. The three hundred monks, whom Tetzel had assembled, were full of admiration of all that he had said. The divines of the university were too fearful of being classed among the promoters of heresy, and too much attached to the principles of Wimpina, openly to attack the astounding theses which had been read in their presence. This affair, therefore, about which there had been so much noise, seemed likely to end like 88 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. a mock fight ; but among the crowd of students present at the discussion was a young man, ahout twenty years of age, named John Knip- strow. He had read the theses of Luther, and found them agreeable to the Scriptures. In- dignant at seeing the truth publicly trampled under foot, without any one offering himself in its defence, the young man raised his voice, to the great surprise of the whole assembly, and attacked the presumptuous Tetzel. The poor Dominican, who had not reckoned on any such opposition, was thrown into dismay. After some attempts at an answer, he aban- doned the field of battle, and made room for Wimpina. The latter defended his cause with more vigour; but Knipstrow pressed him so hard that, to put an end to the untoward con- test, Wimpina, in his capacity of president, declared the discussion terminated, and pro- ceeded at once to the promoting of Tetzel to the rank of Doctor, as the recompense of this glorious dispute. After this, Wimpina, to get rid of his young antagonist, caused him to be sent to the convent of Pyritz, in Pomerania, with directions that he should be strictly watch- ed. But this newly-risen luminary, removed from the banks of the Oder, was destined, at a later period, to diffuse the light over Pome- rania. God, when he sees fit, employs the disciple to confound the master. Tetzel, desirous to make up for the check he had met with, had recourse to the ultima ratio of Rome and its inquisitors, the fire. He set up a pulpit and a scaffold in one of the suburbs of Frankfort. He went thither in solemn procession, arrayed in the insignia of an inquisitor of the faith. He inveighed, in his most furious manner, from the pulpit. He hurled his thunders with an unsparing hand, and loudly exclaimed, that " the heretic Luther ought to be burned alive." Then, placing the Doctor's propositions and sermon on the scaf- fold, he set fire to them. 109 He showed greater dexterity in this operation than he had dis- played in defending his theses. Here there was none to oppose him, and his victory was complete. The arrogant Dominican re-entered Frankfort in triumph. When parties accus- tomed to power have sustained defeat, they have recourse to certain shows and semblances, which must be allowed them as a consolation for their disgrace. The second theses of Tetzel mark an im- portant epoch in the Reformation. They changed the ground of the dispute, transfer- ring it from the indulgence-market to the halls of the Vatican, and diverted the attack from Tetzel, to direct it against the Pope. For the contemptible trafficker whom Luther had as- sailed and held powerless in his grasp, they substituted the sacred person of the Head of Church. Luther was all astonishment at this. A little later, probably, he would, of his own accord, have taken up this new position; but his enemies spared him the trouble. Thence- forward, the dispute had reference, not merely to a discredited traffic, but to Rome itself; and the blow, that a bold hand had aimed against Tetzel's stall, smote, and shook to 'its foundation, the throne of the pontifical king. The theses of Tetzel served, moreover, only as a signal to the troop of Romish doc- tors. A shout was raised against Luther by the monks, enraged at the appearance of an adversary more formidable even than Erasmus or Reuchlin. The name of Luther resounded from all the Dominican pulpits. They stirred up the passions of the people; they called the intrepid Doctor, a madman, a seducer, a wretch possessed by the devil. His teaching was decried as the most horrible of heresies. *' Only wait," said they, " a fortnight, or, at most, a month, and that notorious heretic will be burned alive." Had it depended on the Dominicans, indeed, the Saxon Doctor would soon have met the fate of Huss and of Jerome ; but God was watching over him. His life was destined to accomplish what the martyr- dom of Huss had begun. For each individual serves the purposes of God; one by his life, another by his death. Already many ex- claimed that the whole university of Wittem- berg was tainted with heresy, and they pro- nounced it infamous. 110 "Let us drive out the wretch and all his partisans," said they. And in many cases these clamours did, in fact, excite the passions of the people. Those who shared in the opinions of the Reformer were pointed out to public observation, and wherever the monks had power in their hands, the friends of the Gospel felt the effects of their hatred. Thus the prophecy of our Sa- viour began to be fulfilled : " They shall revile you, and persecute you, and say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake." This recompense of the world is in no age withheld from the decided disciples of the Gospel. When Luther heard of the theses of Tetzel and of the general attack of which they had given the signal, his courage rose. He saw that it was necessary to face such adversaries boldly; his intrepid spirit felt no difficulty in resolving to do so. But, at the same time, their weakness discovered to him his own strength, and inspired him with the conscious- ness of what in reality he was. He did not, however, give way to those emotions of pride which are so congenial to man's heart. " I have more difficulty," wrote he to Spalatin, at this time, " to refrain from despising my adversaries, and so sinning against Christ, than I should have in van- quishing them. They are so ignorant, both of human and divine things, that it is humbling to have to dispute with them ;. and yet it is this very ignorance which gives them their in- conceivable bold ness and their brazen front." 111 But what, above all, strengthened his heart, in the midst of this general hostility, was the deep conviction that his cause was the cause of truth. " Do not wonder," he wrote to Spa- latin, in the beginning of 1518, " that they re- vile me so unsparingly. I hear their revilings with joy. If they did not curse me, we could not be so firmly assured that the cause I hav